“It means little to us, in our day,” he mused, staring down at the contrast. “But a day will come—would have, at least—when that will not be so. A day when milk-white north Europeans, barbarians no longer but in some ways even more barbarous, will enslave Africans and claim that the difference in race is justification enough. A claim which they will be able to make because, for over a millennium, Africa remained isolated from world civilization.”
He shook his head, smiling slightly. “Isolation is a bad thing, for a people as much as a person. So Eon and I, as best we can, will see to it that it never happens. Ethiopia’s new destiny is to mother a different Africa. And I—”
His smile spread into a grin. “I am destined, I fear, to marry some half-savage creature who is even now squatting by the edge of one of the great lakes. But whose father can claim to be the ‘great chief’ of the land.” He sighed. “Hopefully, I will be able to convince the creature to learn how to read. Or, at least, not to use my books for kindling.”
“Get ready!” shrilled Eusebius. One of the sailors began frenziedly working the lever which filled the fire cannon’s chamber. From beyond the shield, Antonina could hear the indistinct shrieks of Mahaveda priests shouting their own orders. She thought—she hoped—to detect confusion in those sounds.
But, for the moment, she blocked all of that from her mind. She would give that moment to the man named Ousanas, for whom, over the years, she had come to feel a great loving friendship.
“You will do well,” she whispered. “And I have no doubt the girl will find you just as magnificent as I do.”
He grinned, gave her hand a last little squeeze, and rose to his feet. Then, reaching over and grasping the great spear which he had left propped securely against the wall of the shield, he turned toward the entrance facing aft.
“First, we must survive this battle. And I suspect the Malwa priests will be pouring over the side onto our decks.” His lip curled. “Screaming refugees, pretending to be fierce boarders.”
Antonina said nothing. She just basked, for a few seconds, in her enjoyment at watching Ousanas move. Antonina had always had a purely sensuous side, which reveled in the sight of handsome and athletic men. And, in the case of her husband, who was one himself, the feel of such a male body.
But no man, in her life, had ever displayed such pure masculine grace and power as Ousanas. Watching him move reminded her of nothing so much as the Greek legends of Achilles and Ajax. So, for those few seconds, Antonina was able to forget all her tension in the simple pleasure of admiration.
“Now!” shrilled Eusebius. The sailor pumping the lever ceased; another turned a valve; Eusebius himself—this was the most dangerous task—ignited the deathspew gouting from the barrel.
“Just as I said,” Antonina murmured to herself, “they’re so handy to have around when the crude stuff starts happening.”
Chapter 17
The interior of the bow shield, despite its small apertures, was suddenly filled with the reflected light of the fire cannon’s effects. Antonina realized, even before she heard Eusebius’ shout of triumph, that the very first blast must have struck the target perfectly.
“Like painting with fire!” shrieked Eusebius gleefully. “Look at it burn!”
Before his last words were even spoken, the sound of screams came through the shield, piercing Antonina’s ears.
Mahaveda priests who had been positioned at the bow, she realized. Suddenly turned into so many human torches.
For all the horror in the thought, Antonina felt not even a twinge of remorse. Truth be told, with a few exceptions such as Bishop Anthony Cassian—Patriarch Anthony, he was now—Antonina had never been fond of any kind of priest, even Christian ones. She had been denounced by such too many times, in her reprobate youth.
Mahaveda priests had all the vices of any clerics, and none of their virtues. Their cult was a bastard and barbaric offshoot of Hinduism, more savage than that of any pagan tribe, and with the added evil which the sophistication of civilized India provided.