[Yes, O Patient Reader, there is indeed a reflection in this chapter . . . because the evil fate that overtook our noble Aelius & Co., landing them in the sandpits near Petra, has also overcome our good ship Polaris, blowing it, not to Lesbos and Pergamon, but to the great port of Tyre, smack dab in Arabia Felix again! [If we didn't know better, we'd think the gods were behind it all]. If we have the mysterious Ideefixe with Party I, we have the ship's cook, Radagast with Party II - and neither may be up to any good! Our only hope is that the triangulated Rostrafarians MAY eventually meet up in the great sand seas still to be crossed. Are you a betting reader? Also, if you're an investor, consider camel shares - their number is increasing] [Grimly, the disappointed Polarians played follow-the-camel, Senex in the lead, closely followed by a nervous Cornellia, chainsaw firmly strapped to the saddle but running very very short on gas. The winds of Mercury had done their worst, and instead of the delights of Lesbos and a short trip, they now had the prospect of months on camel-back trailing right up the coast of Arabia - not to mention Cilicia and other parts west! - before they could arrive at Pergamum. This time of year, the winds were all quite in the wrong direction. So with typical Rostrafarian NEVERSAYDIE, the communal funds went towards hiring XVI camels, all the trappings, a series of maps, and a guide. In spite of all Eirene's shrieks, it was agreed to discard the dancing boys, the marble bathtub from Alexandria, and all but one of her silken evening numbers in case of an invite to kingly palaces. Peculiarly, the ship's cook, Radagast, had been extremely helpful in organizing the CamelTrain. He had found their guide after a short detour in the slave market - a scrawny Syrian named CaiusEmir who claimed to have worked in every salt mine between Petra and Ephesus and to know his way there blindfold. He'd bustled about, purchasing supplies, laying in sunburn ointments, checking the camels' teeth (a job from which Cornellia ran like a corncrake), ensuring they had plenty of camel picks, and arranging the maps. The bulk of the party was in a deep depression, and let him and the Guide take charge without demur. Eirene was outraged. Her best mirror and her hair curlers had been lost overboard the last storm but one before reaching Tyre; she had two grease stains on her best silk stola and hadn't had a pedicure in weeks. jojo, who had signed onto the voyage as the Great King's ambassador in Rome, was considering slipping the traces and going home, where at least he could rejoin his harem and have a decent bath. Thiu was in the dumps, missing his beloved Germania and loathing the heat. He used his wolfspelt headgear as a form of ambulatory tent while riding his camel, Caesar. Cornellia's worries were simpler. At this pace, they'd take months to reach Pergamum . . . her divine contacts had been put into play, but nothing like a divine wind to waft them a thousand leagues northwest had, as yet, appeared (in spite of urgent appeals to Jot). The last message they'd had from Aelius and Heraklia was months in the past, from Massilia! And she didn't quite like something about Radagast, although all the rest seemed content with his managerial style. More importantly, the padding on her saddle was meagre, and she was concerned about whether they had saddlesore ointment . . . the trip was looking longer by the hour! Senex, of course, was the first to see the distant dust cloud as they approached a bare, rocky eminence overlooking the miles of endless sand. At first, it looked like a small sandstorm . . . then, to his horror, galloping figures appeared, racing towards their plodding party with scimitars raised and whoops of rage. Oh no . . . just what they needed in this, the winter of sandy discontent! - SAND BANDITS!!!!! To be continued.....
[Grimly, the disappointed Polarians played follow-the-camel, Senex in the lead, closely followed by a nervous Cornellia, chainsaw firmly strapped to the saddle but running very very short on gas. The winds of Mercury had done their worst, and instead of the delights of Lesbos and a short trip, they now had the prospect of months on camel-back trailing right up the coast of Arabia - not to mention Cilicia and other parts west! - before they could arrive at Pergamum. This time of year, the winds were all quite in the wrong direction. So with typical Rostrafarian NEVERSAYDIE, the communal funds went towards hiring XVI camels, all the trappings, a series of maps, and a guide. In spite of all Eirene's shrieks, it was agreed to discard the dancing boys, the marble bathtub from Alexandria, and all but one of her silken evening numbers in case of an invite to kingly palaces.
Peculiarly, the ship's cook, Radagast, had been extremely helpful in organizing the CamelTrain. He had found their guide after a short detour in the slave market - a scrawny Syrian named CaiusEmir who claimed to have worked in every salt mine between Petra and Ephesus and to know his way there blindfold. He'd bustled about, purchasing supplies, laying in sunburn ointments, checking the camels' teeth (a job from which Cornellia ran like a corncrake), ensuring they had plenty of camel picks, and arranging the maps. The bulk of the party was in a deep depression, and let him and the Guide take charge without demur.
Eirene was outraged. Her best mirror and her hair curlers had been lost overboard the last storm but one before reaching Tyre; she had two grease stains on her best silk stola and hadn't had a pedicure in weeks. jojo, who had signed onto the voyage as the Great King's ambassador in Rome, was considering slipping the traces and going home, where at least he could rejoin his harem and have a decent bath. Thiu was in the dumps, missing his beloved Germania and loathing the heat. He used his wolfspelt headgear as a form of ambulatory tent while riding his camel, Caesar.
Cornellia's worries were simpler. At this pace, they'd take months to reach Pergamum . . . her divine contacts had been put into play, but nothing like a divine wind to waft them a thousand leagues northwest had, as yet, appeared (in spite of urgent appeals to Jot). The last message they'd had from Aelius and Heraklia was months in the past, from Massilia! And she didn't quite like something about Radagast, although all the rest seemed content with his managerial style. More importantly, the padding on her saddle was meagre, and she was concerned about whether they had saddlesore ointment . . . the trip was looking longer by the hour!
Senex, of course, was the first to see the distant dust cloud as they approached a bare, rocky eminence overlooking the miles of endless sand. At first, it looked like a small sandstorm . . . then, to his horror, galloping figures appeared, racing towards their plodding party with scimitars raised and whoops of rage. Oh no . . . just what they needed in this, the winter of sandy discontent! -
SAND BANDITS!!!!!
To be continued.....
XXVI: SandSick in Syria
The Pearls of Pergamon
(1 threads, 41 posts)
The Mystery
(41 posts)
XXVII: Lost in the Sands of Thyme - Part I
