"Oh, one will do," said Eodan. His jaws felt rusty. "At least, if the other two are here, asleep but ready to be called."
"Bind him," said Hwicca timidly.
Flavius raised his brows. "If a sailor should chance to look in upon us and saw me bound—" he murmured.
"It is true." Eodan's head drooped. He jerked it back again. "Be as wise in our behalf as you have been, Roman, and you will see Rome again."
Flavius poured himself a cup. "Do you think so?" he asked lightly. "I doubt that."
"I have promised."
"How much will your word be worth to you, once we reach a wild land where you have no further need of me for shield?" Flavius' eyes rested candidly on Hwicca, above the rim of his cup. A slow, deep flush went up her throat and cheeks. She drew herself into a corner, away from them all, but her gaze remained locked with his.
"Not that I expect us ever to get that far," went on Flavius. "Your luck has been good until now—"
"A Power has been with me," said Eodan, and touched his forehead where the holy triskele lay under a grimy cloth.
"So you may think. But what educated man can take seriously those overgrown children on Olympus?" The Roman nodded at Hwicca. "We spoke of this now and then, you and I. Do you remember? There was a time you gathered jasmine blossoms—"