Pytheas’ tone sharpened. “What are you doing in Massalia? Why are you prepared to aid something that is … not in the interests of Carthage?”
Hanno turned serious. “I am no traitor, for I am not a Carthaginian. True, I’ve lived in the city, among many different places. But I’m not overly fond of it. They’re too puritanical there, too little touched by any grace of Greece or Persia; and their human sacrifices—“ He grimaced, then shrugged. “To sit in judgment on what people do is a fool’s game. They’ll continue doing it regardless. As for me, I’m from Old Phoenicia, the East. Alexandras destroyed Tyre, and the civil wars after his death have left that part of the world in sorry shape. I seek my fortune where I can. I’m a wanderer by nature anyway.”
“I shall have to get better acquainted with you,” Pytheas said, blunter than he was wont. Did he already feel at ease with this stranger?
“Certainly.” Again Hanno’s manner grew cheerful. “I’ve thought how to prove my skills to you. In a short time. You realize the need to embark soon, don’t you? Preferably at the start of sailing season.”
“Because of Carthage?”
Hanno nodded. “This new war in Sicily will engage her whole attention for a while. Agathokles of Syracuse is a harder enemy than the Carthaginian suffetes have taken the trouble to discover. I wouldn’t be surprised if he carries the fight to their shores.”
Pytheas stared. “How can you be so sure?”
“I was lately there, and I’ve learned to pay attention. In Carthage too. You’re aware she discourages all foreign traffic beyond the Pillars of Herakles—often by methods that would be called piracy were it the work of a private party. Well, the suffetes now speak of an out-and-out blockade. If they win this war, or at least fight it to a draw, I suspect they’ll lack the resources for some time afterward; but eventually they’ll do it. Your expedition will take a pair of years at least, likelier three, very possibly more. The earlier you set forth, the earlier you’ll come home—if you do—and not run into a Carthaginian patrol. What a shame, after an odyssey like that, to end at the bottom of the sea or on an auction block.”
“We’ll have an escort of warships.” Hanno shook his head. “Oh, no. Anything less than a penteconter would be useless, and that long hull would never survive the North Atlantic. My friend, you haven’t seen waves or storms till you’ve been yonder. Also, how do you carry food and water for all those rowers? They burn it like wildfire, you know, and resupplying will be chancy at best. My namesake could explore the African coasts in galleys, but he was southbound. You’ll need sail. Let me counsel you on what ships to buy.”
“You claim a great many proficiencies,” Pytheas murmured.
“I have been through a great many schools,” Hanno replied.
They talked onward for an hour, and agreed to meet again on the following day. Pytheas escorted his visitor out. They stopped for a moment at the front door.
The house stood high on a ridge above the bay. Eastward, beyond city walls, hills glowed with sunset. The streets of the old Greek colony had become rivers of shadow. Voices, footfalls, wheels were muted; the air rested in chilly peace. Westward the sun cast a bridge across the waters. Masts in the harbor stood stark against it. Gulls cruising overhead caught the light on then- wings, gold beneath blue.
“A lovely sight,” Pytheas said low. “This coast must be the most beautiful in the world.”
Hanno parted his tips as if to tell about others he had seen, closed them, said finally: “Let us try to bring you back here, then. It won’t be easy.”
THREE VESSELS fared by moonlight. Their masters dared not put in at Gadeira or any part of Tartessos—Carthaginian territory—and kept the sea after dark. The crews muttered; but night sailing was not unheard of on familiar lanes, and to be out in the very Ocean was a strangeness overwhelming all else.
The craft were alike, so they could more readily travel in convoy. Each was a merchantman, though her principal cargo was well-armed men and their supplies. Narrower in the beam man most of its kind, the black hull swept some hundred feet from the high stern, where the twin steering oars were and a swan’s head ornament reared, to the cutwater at the prow. A mast amidships carried a large square sail and a triangular topsail. Forward of it stood a small deckhouse, aft of it lay two rowboats, for towing her at need or saving lives in the worst need. She could get perhaps eighty degrees off the wind, slowly and awkwardly; nimbler rigs existed, but drew less well. Tonight, with a favoring breeze, she made about five knots.