Phobia ☤ Alexios

six: memories awoken

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THE ADRESTIA IS not a grand ship. Rails are splintering, hull paint is peeling, and the sail is faded, but Irene can tell it is a sturdy ship and has many stories to tell. Alexios escorts her to the helm. A map of the Aegean is pained on the ship planks. With three paces, she can travel from Samos to Athens –across the entire Greek world.

"Who is this?" Irene jumps at the sonorous voice posing the question. The man asking is grey of hair and beard with a clouded left eye and a kindly smile. He has the look of a veteran sailor.

Alexios clasps the sailor's shoulder and extends his hand toward the woman. "Barnabas, this is Irene," he announces and turns to Herodotus, intent on finishing introductions, but the princess is grinning and moving toward the historian with open arms.

"Herodotus!" Irene exclaims, embracing him as an old friend. "I did not think to see you so far from Attika," she comments –wondering how he, of all people, had come to be acquainted with the Eagle Bearer.

Herodotus looks over the princess' appearance –he is accustomed to seeing her in robes of silk, not armor. "Nor I you," he says in turn. Irene pleads with the historian to speak of his newest findings, and he is happy to oblige. Barnabas speaks too much of the gods and Alexios has little care for many historical accounts, but Irene would hear them all. She wears many titles and among them is antiquarian.

Shortly after she and Alexios board the Adrestia, the deckhands are unmooring the ship, preparing for departure. If Poseidon and the Anemoi favored their voyage, it would take no more than three days to reach Piraeus. The sea is calm and the winds are swift. Samos soon disappears on the horizon.

Irene finds the captain to be good company. He is always in high spirits with stories to spare. Something about him is familiar, though. It takes time for her to place his voice and face to memory, but Irene is certain her and the captain's paths have crossed before. "Barnabas?" The captain looks over the brazier, offers the woman a kindly but tired smile. "Have you heard of the Paralus?"

The Paralus was the massive two-sailed trireme that carried her and Zephyr to safety from Persia, the pride of the Athenian naval fleet. He laughs, holding onto his side. Both Irene and Herodotus exchange baffled looks at the sudden outburst. "My old ship!" Barnabas exclaims. "She was a beauty. Pity Poseidon felt she'd look better at the bottom of the sea." Poseidon had claimed the sacred Athenian ship and most of the crew during a storm. The same storm claimed his eye, too.

"Do you remember docking in Miletus and ferrying a boy and girl to Athens?" She asks, hopeful he will remember the deed responsible for saving her life.

Barnabas is silent, he looks at Irene and sees a young girl with pitch hair, wide blue eyes, and a round face looking back at him. "Aye, never did forget a face," the captain replies. "You were a little girl –scared to death you'd fall into the sea." She had been afraid, had wept and clung to her brother. It was her first time at sea and Poseidon granted the Paralus a rough passage across the Aegean.

The captain asks what happened after she and her brother departed the Paralus. Irene's expression falters to one of wistful melancholy. "We endured," she tells him. The simple response catches Alexios by surprise.

Herodotus retires below deck with many of the crew. Irene falls asleep beneath the stars on one of the benches at the stern. She is tired and the rolling waves rock the Adrestia as a mother rocks a babe. Barnabas and Alexios stand at the helm of the ship, keeping a watchful eye on the horizon. Above them, Ikaros circles on an updraft. The night is quiet, save for the soft breaking of waves and the cool spring sea breeze.