Sonketa

The afternoon had stretched, while the three of them rode on in silence, first west after they had left the vicinity of the residence, then following the road until they came to the coast, passing by several smaller villages belonging to King Ozrykes’ domain. Nobody volunteered to tell Bryzos about their exact heading.

Probably Sonketa, he thought darkly, wherever the bloody place may be. Some hole in the ground smelling of horse-shit, I reckon, where the pigs look better than the horses, and the horses better than the girls. Nothing worth drinking either, I imagine. What a complete nightmare.

They rode along a dusty country road between two fields, in which the corn stood tall and golden, ready to be harvested soon, passing into the remnants of a small pine forest, which had been devastated by fire some time ago. This, by Bendis, must be the end of the bloody world, Bryzos thought, darkly. What, by the Horseman’s brass balls, am I doing here?

The road rose and, leaving the blackened stumps and burnt timbers of the pines behind them, they came to the top of a rise, where Rudas stopped his horse and dismounted. He turned around to the other two and, with the first word he had uttered since they had left he simply said “Sonketa.” Just as Ziles had said, they had not been on the road more than a couple of hours.

“You are there, master Bryzos,” Ziles remarked from atop his horse in his friendly voice, “would you be as kind as to please dismount?”

They stood at the top of the rise, leading gently down into a wide valley with the Gulf of Melas visible in a haze on the horizon. The sun was gradually making its way there, as the long afternoon was slowly but surely coming to an end. Sonketa was not as large as Bryzos’ native Keirpara, but also by no means the ‘hole in the ground’ he had feared it would turn out to be. It was a pleasantly set-out place, encompassed in cornfields, with sheep grazing on the surrounding hills and a brook flowing nearby.

Maybe not quite so bad after all, Bryzos thought, dismounting absent-mindedly and handing Ziles the reins. “And hadn’t the king mentioned Rudas having three good-looking daughters? He would not be the first father the prince had successfully dodged. He grinned and turned around to Ziles, who had taken hold of the reins, but was making no indication of getting of his own horse.

“So, what of our baggage, Ziles? You said that all would be taken care of?”

“Oh, it has, master, do not worry. Rudas will see to everything. And now, I bid you farewell!” and, without another word, he turned the horses, spurred them on and cantered off, back down the hill and into the pine wood.

All of a sudden, Bryzos had a very bad feeling about all of this, the momentary elation he had felt gone in a heartbeat. He opened his mouth to shout something to Ziles, but found he did not know what exactly to say, and by the time he had gathered his wits, the Greek servant had simply vanished along a curve in the road.

“Bloody Greeks,” he mumbled, as that was all he found he was able to come up.

Rudas had observed all of this without comment and, upon Bryzos turning round finally, he caught his eye, nodded and led his horse down the road towards the village. Several naked young children ran past them over the dusty road towards the brook to their left, completely absorbed in whate