Jerry explained.
A dangerous-looking Odysseus glowered viciously at the sergeant. Their chances of making it through the night diminished. “I have no more to bet.”
Jerry shrugged. “Take us where we want to go . . . and we’ll call it quits.”
Odysseus’ eyes narrowed. “Very well. Or you are all mine to ransom.”
Jerry was overly confident of Cruz’s almost magical ability with the dice. “Sure.”
Odysseus threw. A pair.
He threw again. Flush . . .
Jerry swallowed. Cruz shrugged. He reached out a hand to take the dice. Odysseus caught his wrist. “No. The dice fall as you wish them to. We don’t trust you. Someone else must throw. Not the sorceress, or you, speaker of execrable Greek.”
“That isn’t what we agreed to!” said Jerry hotly, fear drying his mouth.
“Why should it be a problem?” said Odysseus smoothly. “Unlesss,” he hissed . . . “he cheats!”
“Cheat. Cheat. Cheat.” It went around the watching circle, in a murmur. Each man who repeated it seemed to add a new degree of nastiness. And spoke the term more loudly.
Jerry swallowed. And he’d thought they were in trouble when it had just looked like they might lose! Swords were being drawn. Bronze gleamed evilly in the firelight. Jerry desperately tried to moisten his mouth.
“What’s the problem?” asked Liz.
“They say we’re cheating,” he croaked.
“Oh, shit. We’re in it deep,” she said, as calmly as if they were discussing the weather. He noticed she was taking a firm grasp on that bag of hers.
“They want someone else to throw,” Jerry said, looking at the others.
“Not me,” said Lamont hastily, shaking his head violently. “I’m useless at games of chance. Got no luck. And I don’t approve of gambling anyway.”
“We want the Ethiopian,” said Odysseus, who couldn’t speak English, but wasn’t blind either. He pointed at Lamont.
Jerry remembered that there’d been Ethiopians at the siege of Troy. Fighting on the Trojan side.
“I can’t do this, Jerry. Talk us out of it!” pleaded Lamont.
Jerry looked at the Achaeans’ faces in the firelight. “I don’t think it’s going to work, Lamont. Throw. At least losing’s better than what we’ll get for cheating.”
In the firelight Jerry could see that Lamont’s dark skin was beaded with sweat. He had a wine bowl in one hand and the dice in the other. “Oh, Jesus . . . ”
Jerry shook his head. “Try Tyche. The Greek goddess of luck.”
“Hell . . . O Tyche. Tyche. I can’t do this, Jerry. If I need luck, I’ve never got it. I never win.”
“Throw and then run. Head for the water, while they watch the dice,” said Cruz.
The Achaeans began to chant. “Throw, Ethiope! Throw! Throw!”
Lamont took a deep breath. Tossed the wine on to the fire. “TYCHE!” he cried . . . the dice fell . . .
Jerry turned to join the sprint.
And stopped dead.
Divine manifestations tend to do that to you.
* * *
Jerry didn’t need the deadly silence behind him to know that the ancient Greek Lady Luck had intervened. That Lamont, the extremely reluctant gambler, had thrown a royal flush.
Tyche had compelling green eyes. She also had the kind of teasing smile that leads men into dire trouble. And she could speak English. Well, she was a goddess. Ordinary people don’t come in neon glow.
“Well done,” she cooed seductively. “I love this game. It will bring me many, many devotees. I can see it will bring me great power. I don’t care what Zeus wants us to do to you. It pleases me to smile on you.”
Lamont stammered. “But . . . but . . . I’m just not lucky. Never!”
She winked at him. “You are now. To Hades with stuffy old Zeus.”
Jerry swallowed. “How come you can speak to us in our language?”
“I’m a goddess, dah-ling. I can speak to anyone I want.”
“What are we doing here?” demanded Liz. “And how do we get home?”
Tyche shrugged broadly and lazily. The motion sent light rippling down her arms. “Even Zeus claims not to know. Magic, he says.”
And with that, the goddess of luck departed. As was her way.