Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 Ophra:
Pori was a rock, basically a Kove.  A place to stop, shallow enough to
anchor in our fisherboats, on the way from Antekythra to Kythra.  It was
not unknown at the time, a convenient strategic location for Warships, and
Pirates as well.  There was no Greece, the mainland was Morea, Byzanteon
was Konstantinople, Krete an eastern holding of the Venyzi, and so forth.
We survived, by being too small and scattered to hunt to extinction.  There
are many islands on the Arxepilago, {Sea, the word Archipelago was
originally the name of the Aegean, and entymologically evolved to mean a
cluster of Islands.  Because the sea is a cluster of islands.} and we lived
not unlike sea nomads.  Of course, until we were in the cove when a ship

came in, and wanted to use it.

   I remember, it was low tide, and we were grounded to patch the hull, but
we weren't exactly armed.  We had oars, knives, and other tools.  They had
swords, steel armor, and guns.  But my first home was our family boat.  A
fisher with a single deck, single mast, and single hold belowdecks we could
live in.  Together, 3 beds.  Our parents had one, our brothers, then us.  I
remember it started flooding, and we had to pass buckets up from the hold
to throw overboard, but with the low tide, grounded, we stopped taking it
in for a few hours.  I remember the smell of Tar, the men, and boys out
swimming, or in smaller boats to get the outside.  Others inside to beat in
rope, and fabric, soaked in tar, then sealed it over the cracks, as they
had many times before.  The women, and girls, kept bailing the bucket line
to keep it fairly dry.  Most of our small fleet kept on, I assume to Kithra
since the sun was to port in the morning, to starboard in the evening.  We
were headded north, and expected to continue on when we were done.

   Then, the Dromon, a Galley came, and attacked us.  Again, they had
cannon, and swords, and steel armor, so it was a massacre.  I believe it
was my father, or an uncle who decided to tar ropes and nets to throw on
their launches.  We were deep in the cove, and the Dromon could not come at
that tide without grounding, so they anchored within range, and covered us
with her guns.  It's not unlike a Trimarine, or longship.  Single mast
displacement hull with a single rank of oars on each side.  It was my
second home, we were sent down to the hold, to cry, and shiver in the water
until the battle was over.  Then the men came down raped us, and took us on
there boats, raping us, then up on their ship, to rape us some more.  {Rape
is evil.  Yes, it's natural, normal, instinctual,..  and Evil.}

   Let's see, I had 5 sisters, 3 aunts, I don't remember how many cousins,
and my mother.  So, 4 women, probably a dozen to to score of teens, and
girls.  They raped us for days, and rowed south when we weren't under sail.
I don't know if it was constant, or I only remember when they were raping
at least one of us, but there had to be a gross of men.  Right out there on
deck, between the oarsmen, who would stop only to change out with one who
had just finished, unless we were under sail.  There were cabins, in the
bow, and stern, but we were held, tied in the center.  I wasn't whipped, I
didn't make them beat me, but my mother and aunts were.  Between the masts,
the oars, and the cabins.  Then, I believe we made it to the mouth of the
Nile, where most of us were sold.  Hard to say, I did not see any
landmarks, I could identify Aleksandria from, but I know we went around
Antikythra, and Krete, sailed south-east, and stopped to trade with ships
in passing.  Women, that's who they had to pay with.  The slave trade in
Aphryka is probably older than spoken language.  At the time, white slaves
were popular in the north east, down to the Rift, and the headwaters of
Upper Egypt.  Or Xeme, as it was known of at the time.

   I was not sold, the commander took a liking to me, and after the first
few days took me back to his cabin in the stern as Spoils.  Part of his
share, he did not rape me, he held me crying, and molested me, then raped
me.  Which was not as bad as being gangraped for days by Marines.  {For the
purposes of this story, shipborn soldiers, for landing, boarding, and
fighting.} I don't know how long, and we did not keep track of years, so my
age was a mystery as well.  Back then, they were much more like Vikings
than the seafarer pirates of the later Renaissance, or even the Venetians
on Krete.  We avoided them though, sailed around for a good port to sell
the women.  The women of my family, but I was kept for the commander.  I
can't be sure which port it was, only that it had to be somewhere on the
North Aphrykan Coast, and to this day I believe it was Aleksandria. 
Zograph was an artist.  That's what it means, "Painter," and he did do my
likeness, clothed and unclothed, chaste and pornographic.  He told me I was
the most beautiful girl on the 7 seas, and kept me in his cabin, or bunk,
or by him on deck at all times.  We shared with the other commander, there
was only one bed, but they slept in shifts, so we had it while it was their
watch, then they had it when it was his.

   The other one had a black woman, I don't know where, but they picked
them up when they sold my family.  I suppose they were cheaper, black women
less exotic on Aphryka than Greek women, the best I could imagine.  They
all spoke Greek, except the Aphrykans, but only Zograph spoke to me.  We
raided, mostly islands, again mostly for women, to rape, and sell as
slaves, but I did not stay with them long.  Zograph changed ships, I am not
sure of the particulars, but the old slaver captain his Cabin in the bow,
did retire, and I do believe it was Gout.  He was not bedridden, but
complained of the sea air, his feet swoll up a lot, he lost toenails, and
quite often could not stand or walk around.  He mostly led from a chair,
shouting commands, for the oarsmen to relay.  As well as a drum to beat
cadence.  The Dromon was sold, and scrapped.  It had seen too many battles,
could have been a century old, and was becoming obsolete because of the
Venetian style Galleons in and around Crete.

   However, as he was the ships' scribe as much as a watch commander, he
was basically demoted to Navigator, and Cartographer on a larger ship.  The
main difference was no oarsmen, except on the launches, but I don't believe
they were part of a larger navy, either.  Independent merchants, Piracy was
just something they did on the side, when there was opportunity.  As soon
as we were aboard the ship, he told me that my past was gone, not so much a
secret, but "Noone need know that you were a slave, I bought you, and you
are now free of that debt." He kissed me, my head, and told them I was his
wife.  He also gave me a knife, not my first, but steel, and very nice.  On
Crete, it might have been Xania, but he told me, if any men tried to touch
me, "any other man, this is for them."

   That was my wedding, "You are not a slave any more, but you are Mine,
and here's a knife to keep it that way." Then, when we got to the new ship,
he introduced himself, and said "This is my wife, Ophra." That was it, we
were married.

   My first love was actually a rigger named Tharaaz.  A knife fighter, or
at least fancied himself one, he saw me stabbing the bottom of the mast,
"Nh, nh!" Overhand, edge out, Psycho style.

   "Little girl," he laughed, "Who are you stabbing at?"

   "Men?" Just whatever imaginary men, Zograph was talking about.  I could
handle a knife, gut and clean fish in my sleep, but had little to no
practice actually Fighting with one.  He told me that I was doing it wrong,
and showed me a better way to hold it.  To stand, to slash and stab with
it. Then, we practiced, or played swordfighting with Belaying Pins, and
Fids.  This was a full, 2 mast sailing ship, not a hybrid oar/sailor like a
Trymarine, or Dromon, though I was wife of the Navigator, I knew what a fid
is, how to use it, and he put me to work doing minor jobs like splicing,
and repairing.  I also tied a net when I got enough lines together, and he
helped me pull in enough fresh fish to help feed the crew.  We had fish
barrels, but they were greasy, packed in oil, and still rancid.  I wouldn't
touch the stuff, so as soon as I could, I made a net, caught fresh fish,
and even fried it right on the deck for the men.  And Favors.  I had no
money, Zograph was doing fairly well, but didn't give me any, nowhere to
spend it if I did, but if I wanted something, or someone to do something, I
could certainly make them more willing to listen with some nice, fresh,
perfectly fried fish as a bribe.  I bought my first Marlinspike this way,
and my first whip.

   My husband was, Busy.  He signed on as Navigator, but the Captain,
first, and Second also used him as a Spotter, Sighter (He could use an
Astrolabe, and crude precursor to the Sextant, and had very good eyes for
spotting things far off.  There were such things as telescopes, but they
were very crude, only 2 lenses, and unbelievably expensive.  The first one
I saw was really just the lenses, a concave, and convex one, and a cone of
leather to roll them up in.) He barely got to sleep, rarely had time to
show me much affection, couldn't really keep an eye on me, the Captain
often took him in his quarters to paint him, in portraiture out of Vanity.
He was Venetian, the crew was from everywhere, it turns out that Tharaaz
was from Sardinia, but he spoke Greek.  And Latin, because everyone spoke
Latin.  Europe spoke Latin, pretty much from the fall of Rome through the
Dark Ages with some scattered tribes like the Goths here, and there. 
Barbarian is basically Latin for not Rome.

   So.  Tharaaz taught me how to fight, then how to love.  I told him, why
I was practicing how to stab men.  He said my husband was "Jealous, but he
does not own you.  Are you a slave?"

   "No?" I lied.

   "I do not believe in these, marriages of convenience." Oh, and also
apparently I was from a wealthy family.  Nobles, care about such things. 
"So, you were basically sold, like a slave by your father to your husband."


   I nodded.  "What do you believe in?"

   "Love," Agapi.  Plural of Agape', "Between 2 people.  Not a man loves a
woman, so he takes her, but a man, and woman in love, as Venus intended."

   "Who?"

   "Sorry, Aphrodite." I shook my head.  "The goddess of love?"

   "Oh," I nodded, "Psypris."

   {Geo-political note.  Psypris, the city, was basically Cyprus west, then
renamed Heraklion by the Venetians during their occupation.  The original
Cyprus of the Aphrodite Uranus creation myth is far east, damned near to
Byzanteon.  She uses a lot of the local/outdated words, and names, being a
seccond generation refugee of the diaspora from Greece being torn up, and
occupied by basically the Christian churches of the Crusades.  The myth as
she understands it is that she walked on the sea to "Cypris" and has never
even heard of Paphos, the original city of Aphrodite of the
Athenean-Hellenistic eras on the island of Cyprus.}

   And, romantic as it sounds, that's how he got between my legs.  He made
me feel like a slave, property, and promised me Love instead.  Then, we
went and fucked within the hour of finding me trying to break the tip off
in the rearmast.  {No "Mainmast," there's 2, basically equal, and
interchangeable sails in tandem.} Down in the foremost hold, which is
basically storage for rigging, packed with coils of rope, and other
cordage. That was romance, for me that was my first love, he asked me.  For
once, someone asked me, and he even let me be on top.  It was basically the
first time I fucked, anyone, instead of being fondled by my uncles, and
older brothers, and cousins in my sleep, gangraped by marines, or kissed
and molested, then held down so I didn't cry, or scream when my husband
raped me.  It was the first time I wasn't raped.

   Oh yeah, and "Job opening!" He got to run the riggers for one of the
night watches.  There was some shuffling around of officers I didn't commit
to memory.  My husband found out, challenged him to a duel, and found out
why he had so many scars on his arms.  From winning so many knife, and
sword fights, he also happened to be the best fighter, with a gutting
knife, or one of the 2 dueling swords onboard.  My first sword, he gave it
to me, and I wore it over my shoulder through a strap split like a quiver
until I was tall enough to wear it on my belt.  I also used it Bastard
style, and often flipped it over back grip defensively.  I made it up,
playing with my Tharaaz, and experimenting with different things, because
that's what we did.  That has always been my personal style, held high to
cover me like a roof, or the beam of a mast, because I was short, a little
girl which men took for weakness.  They learned, or they died.  We mostly
played, occasionally kissed, or held eachother on deck, fished off the
side, and made love every night.  He had a bunk, down in the hold, and
nobody was downright suicidal enough to even look at me, knowing he would
kill them.  Quickly.  He was also jealous, which never stopped him from
cheating on me, with every married woman he could get.  He was killed, in a
duel, when he found out that being the best swordsman on a minor little
merchant/pirate ship does not equal being the best swordsman on the island
of Crete, in the port of Xavia, or in the bar where he hit on the wrong
daughter of the wrong noble.

   The other riggers brought me his sword, which matched mine, being the
other half of the dueling set.  For a little while I fucked around with the
idea of Florentine, even wore them crossed over my back, but then just kept
one as a backup over my bunk, in case I lost or broke my main one.  Now, it
was at least 2 years before I started to bleed, and before that I remember
Zograph pulling back my lips, when he picked me from the spoils.  "She has
all her teeth," as far as I know, that is why I was chosen instead of one
of my sisters, or cousins, so I might have been 7, or 8, then 9, or 10 when
my second husband died.  My first love, Tharaaz, I loved mostly because he
was a lot of fun, and told great stories.  He showed me the ropes, how to
fight, very well I might add, how to make love, and actually feel pleasure,
the first one who brought me to Cypris.  On his fingers, he fucked me too,
but with foreplay, then lay down for me to mount him.  He preferred that,
and told me our first time it was so I could control, the depth, and speed,
so he would not hurt me.  He was, older.  A full beard, and head of hair,
with no grey, and only a little wrinkling around his eyes from squinting in
the reflection of Helios from the waves.  But he loved me, and I loved him.

   The day after he died, a man touched me, pushed me back in the rigging,
and forced his mouth on mine.  He felt my thighs, and in front of them, and
said "You are mine now." Since I was single, on a ship full of men.  Turns
out later, they drew lots for me, and he won.

   Lucky guy, I took down my swords, threw him one and challenged him.  "Oh
yeah?  Prove it."

   He died a few days later.  I wasn't trying to kill him, but I cut his
hand pretty bad, and got a good stab through his thigh.  He went down, so I
could hold the point to his chest, up-side down, and cradle the pommel in
my palm.  To stab, with all my weight if I had to, but he put his hands up.
We did not have a doctor, he packed the wound with a twist of cloth, like
the Tampons I used myself, and it got infected.  But that told the crew, if
you want my hand, you have to take it.  In a duel, with My swords.  My
wedding ring was the simple guard between the quillions, and the Riccasso,
oh, they were simple Spada da Lato swords.  Like Rapiers, with a broader
heavier blade, and much simpler guards, that's actually useful for cutting.
Basically just a ring, front and back, to protect your finger if you grip
it that way.

   I carried them, my swords, until I remarried.

   Which basically happened my next battle at sea.  I had never fought, in
a melee.  I was the ship's fishergirl, and marlinspike/fid.  I could climb
with a leader line, but wasn't big enough to pull rope, or turn the
windlass to become a full rigger.  Then, we were attacked by the Venezian
Navy, which I had no love for taking over Crete and renaming everything in
Latin.  They had soldiers, with Cannon, we basically had railguns.  {For
some idea, do an image search for handgonne, culverin, or Hand Cannon.}
Basically a staff, with a hook on the bottom, and a hole in the front to
stuff some powder in with a ball.  Match light, not match lock, the trigger
mechanism was a length of fuse on a stick so you didn't burn your fingers.
Also handy for beating on people after you got off your 1 shot.  We were
literally outgunned, there was 2 larger ships, and they flanked us to boot.

   I had the same battlestation as always, retreat into the main cabin,
with the Captain, all the valuables (Like gold, paintings, fine cloth) and
barricade the door until the battle was over.  They hacked through with
boarding axes, and I stepped in.  They said "Step aside, little girl," and
laughed.  I pulled my other sword, threw it at his feet, and told him.

   "Pick it up, and make me."

   My sword, he set his aside, and fought with his scabbard flapping beside
him.  I know right where to hit it, where my sword, and my sword rattles
his hand numb, and swepped in horizontally with a back grip swing flat to
flat.  He held on, but I twisted it to a diagonal downward slash across the
back of his hand and wrist, then hit the top with my quillion to knock it
out.  He stepped back, with a cry, clutching his hand, and wailing that I
nearly cut it off, So I slapped his thighs apart, then brought the blade up
between his legs.

   "What was that?" I didn't cut him.

   They took the ship.  They took me as well, but as crew, and not spoils.
I didn't even have to kill him, just cut his arm pretty bad, and disarmed
him, but it was my sword.  I know it better than anyone, and later the
Master at Arms (In command of the men at arms) said he'd never fought
anyone quite like that.  We practiced, when his wounds got better.  He was
of the Venetian school, of course.  Well traveled, he had been up the
Danube, and said the closest thing to my style was the "Lyxtenaur School,"
with what he called an "Estoq."

   Except my swords had edges, when I finally got my hands on an Estoq, it
was basically a 2 handed stilletto with a very good point, and no edges
whatsoever.  And about a yard-to-meter of steel you can stab straight
through the front and back of tilting armor with enough momentum behind it,
like a horse.  He was very good, but basically all I knew was the Venezian
school, and fought like no one else.  Also left handed, which he told me
was also an advantage.  Or added to the same kind of advantage, most
swordsmen are right handed, and train to fight right handed men.  Not
little girls that fight alternately back grip left handed, or hand and half
with the pommel in my fist for leverage.  He also showed me how to fight
"Half swords," with my right hand up, on the blade, but nearer the ricasso
where it wasn't very sharp.  If you grip it right, you don't cut yourself
anyway, so he showed me how to grip it right, but I don't like that,
because it leaves my hand exposed.  However, it also illustrates a primary
part of my style: Defense, I don't fight to kill someone, I defend myself.
I had to, because I'm a little girl, that lives with and around Pirates.

   At that time, I lived with the Venezi fleet, because the ship I was on
was captured, and sank by them.  I wasn't officially part of the crew, I
was the Master at Arms' personal "Bodyguard." In practice, I was his
Second, in duels.  He was a duelist, and a good, for lack of a better word,
Musketeer.  {Though there was no such rank at the time, in Venice occupied
Crete.} Would have liked to see him duel Therazz, my money might be on him,
but he might lose too.  Also suitor, he asked for my hand, every day, and I
challenged him every day, but as soon as we were ashore at Xavia, I ran
away and hid with Shepherds in the hills until they left.  I watched them,
sail away, he was lousy in bed.  It wasn't quite rape.  It was close, he
demanded sex, and after the first time, I picked up on the pattern.  Short
fuse, I was lucky to get a full stroke in and out.  He pulled out, and
finished with his hand too.  Told me we couldn't get me pregnant before we
were married.  Yeah, well he also told the crew he let me win, rather than
slaughter such a brave, but stupid little girl.  So, he was basically a
ride back to Crete, or a long swim.  "Huh!  Fine?" I don't even remember
his name.

   He let me win, or he gave up when I disarmed him, but he could kill me
if it came down to a fight.  Easily.

   Then, I was kind of screwed.  I ran away, a warrant was put out for
"Euphra di Pori," for Desertion, because my suitor to be was apparently
smitten by me, or something.  Ask me why?  I know I'm not that beautiful,
no matter what Zograph said, so it was basically a choice between hiding,
and probably street-hooking in the back alleys of Xavia, or run to the
hills.  Eventually I was taken in by a shepherd, his wife, and sons. 
Unmarried sons, it was thought I would take a liking to one of them, they
courted me, and took me out to the pasture for the oh so exciting pastime
of shepherding.  Which makes for a lot of downtime, to play, share stories
of Piracy, and teach them a little fencing.  They also like playing
Gladiattori with trident (Or pitchfork) and net.  A non-viable option would
have been to sell my swords, which were rather cheap, being the dueling
swords (Trial by Combat to settle disputes.  The gods decide it by aiding
the hand of the man in the right, to settle disputes between men of equal
rank.  Like a painter, and a rigger fighting over a girl.) of a minor
independent ship, and hopefully have enough to buy fare on a ship out of
there.

   Which probably would have landed me in another city like Heraklion, just
as broke, only unarmed.  My swords were on the Warrant, they didn't have a
picture of me, so it went by description, they expected me to be near the
water, possibly fishing, to answer to Euphra, and carrying 2 swords crossed
over my back, like nobody ever did, least of which a little girl of about
10-12?  Since I couldn't read, I was lucky to be spotted by other kids, who
called me Ophra, and pointed.  So, I asked them where they heard my name,
also they took me to see my warrant, and read it to me.  Cute kids, thought
I was something akin to a Robber Princess to have a warrant out on me like
that.  Lucky, because it was a half ducat bounty for information which led
to my arrest.  Which was, an incredible amount of money, considering I was
a rigger's mate (Or possibly Pikeman's squire, with a ring I didn't want)
on a navy ship, and hadn't even reached the age to enlist.  So, I can only
guess he put up the money himself, which again is a hell of a lot of money
for an itch in your pants in a city where that would buy you 4 whores for
the night.

   However, it was fun.  The boys were either older, or at least taller and
stronger, which kept me in practice.  They also taught me how to make a
Sheep Whip.  For those not up on their old fashioned Greek country tools
and implements, it's spun from wool, twisted, and braided with a medium
length stock, about the length of a Boarding Axe's handle, and a long tail.
For cracking, but the general idea is that "Fleece does not break fleece."
So, if you accidentally hit a sheep, it won't hurt them too badly.  It's
was mostly to scare them with the sound, but the long reach means you don't
have to run as much to snap it in front of them, and turn them around. 
{Not dissimilar to the modern Australian Stockwhip, except for being
twisted from wool spun to a taper with a spinning top, and incidentally
used for herding sheep.  Instead of a spinning wheel, because it's spun
vertically, it's actually easier to spin a taper this way, and it takes a
master-spinner to make a yarn of more consistent thickness.  Not to be
confused for the Shaolin whip, which is sometimes called a "Shepherd's
whip."}

   So, I also practiced Sword-and-Whip, another fencing style nobody had
ever seen, except 2 boys, I have no idea whether or not they ever made more
than shepherds of themselves.  I didn't stay, instead I tried to formulate
a plan to get back to sea, thanking the family for their hospitality, they
thanked me for the work I'd done, (Making their family more secure with
real defense training for their sons, the next generation) and hiking
downhill, back to the sea.  From uphill, I saw the coast well enough, and
managed to follow the water's course.  An old adage, water knows the best
way to the sea, so if you're trying to get to the coast, find a trickle, it
will get you there eventually.  But, I saw 2 small bays, with a finger spit
in between, which is the best place to look for what I needed: Ships, or
Boats.  Fishers would be fine, I'll fit in better with them than shepherds,
but from the Shepherd's Hill

   {Makris Tyxos, Chania, Crete.  Or will be some day.}

   I had to wait until almost dark, found a good shady spot, nice beach,
pull right in.  The carts showed up before the boats even appeared on the
horizon, 8 oars, 4 on each side, front and back mast, with outriggers. 
Tide rolled in, pulled right up, grounded, and probably stayed there until
the morning-tide pulled them out with a good push/row to get your blood
going.  Barrels, bags, and nets full of fish, walked right up before they
finished unloading.

   "Who're you supposed to be?" Latin.

   "Ophra di Pori."

   "Pori, where the fuck is Pori?"

   I checked the sun.  Pointed out the island.  "Antekithra?" n-N\W,
"Pori," Waay N\W, "Kithra."

   "Nautilus?"

   Nod, "Pori," N/E.

   "That rock?" I nodded, "Nobody lives on that rock."

   So, I told him the story.  How i came to be from there.  Kinda skipped
past the raped for days by Marines part, and straight ahead to the
"Genocide." Kill the men, rape and impregnate the women.  Dilute the next
generation.  "Not headded to Xavia?"

   "With the money, you have to pay the docks in port, and the merchants
have to pay the market.  Or, we just come out here, and sell to the
farmers."

   "Nice," merchant fisherman.

   "What's with the swords?"

   "What's with the short-swords?"

   He turned, stuck his thigh out, turned, and stuck the other out to show
me.  "Sword|Daggers?" he dropped his tunic and nodded.  Nice hairy ripply
midriff.  And don't he know it?  "Mostly for in town." Walking distance,
incidentally.  "Aren't you wanted, for robbery, or something?"

   "Last I heard it was desertion from the Navy di Benezia?  What was I
supposed to have done, wanna try to take me in?"

   "Here, now?" He grinned, already barefoot in surf-breeches.

   "Tradja swords."

   "Pardon?"

   "Dueling set," point at one with the pommel of the other.

   He half turned his head, and puckered his lips, frowning, and pouting?
I'm not sure what that face he made ment, but flipped one back to the
quillions, I already had one back grill with my pinky ringed into the
riccasso, reached over my shoulder, and grabbed the top of the handle to
pull the tale pinned just at the top of the plaited body out from under the
quill, and lift it over my head to tug, and let the lash fall, then pull
the last coil to let it slip down my back next to the braid of my hair. 
Let it fall back, to almost float in the water like a watersnake's tail. 
Grin, and hold the pommel up.  I got here hours ago, played in, and around
the beach essentially all day with a break when I got really hot.  Left a
surf-net hanging from a low limb.

   "What the," I threw the handle, underhand, letting the wet wool slip out
ever tightening until I caught it, and the ./7 loop went taut, straightened
out, and uppercut him under the chin.  Or, he stepped back, way off
ballance, and I got a good look at this sword|Dagger thing.  It's short,
but take a fighting dagger.  Now scale it up to a sword hilt, put a beefy
crossguard on it, and a nice, light, acorn quillion on a slightly
pearshaped grip.  Flip it up, and then slip my finger under the guard
rotating it back in the OK {Sorry, that's Omakron/Kappa} of my thumb, and
flip it backgrip to slip it back down to the pommel.

   The handle just swung overhead, I held my hand up too, but at right
about ap-helion, I brought it back around to catch it, dropping the tail
back in the water, by my leg.  "So, still want to duel?"

   "No," he slipped his sword|Dagger back on his hip, "Wanna trade?"

   "What,"

   "Sword for swords.  These are too long."

   "All right,' he looked at his, "I can probably grind these down."

   "You cut them down from swords?"

   He nods, "I don't like the length either.  The weight is nice, for
cutting, but in close."

   "What about reach?" I don't have a place for the chunk of steel, it
won't go in one of my scabbards, and I'm not used to tucking it back there
anyway, but I really need to wring out my whip.  Which will shrink,
stiffen, and tighten it, "You want to hand me one of those sword-belts?"
Crossed like mine, I get the blade under mine, and grip the strap to it
with the heel of my wrist.  Which already has a sword in it, because it's
over the one I drew first, also anchored by the wool coil.

   "Is that a sheep whip?"

   I looked at it, "Got it from some shepherds." You wanna go back, to
shore, and find some rock to wrestle behind, naked?  Oh good, didn't say
that out loud.  "Here," I handed the shortsword grip back, "Tuck that away
a moment."

   Stacked my fists on the pommel, turned and swung overhand to draw the
tail from the water, then slid my hand up the stock bringing it forward so
the bend back and down threw forward, and carried it out lighter, and
faster until it broke the sound barrier with a thunderclap, spraying out
sea water in all directions.  And throwing up a pretty nice rainbow for a
moment, almost all the way around with the sun that low.

   THWKHh!..  hH!  It eccoed a little back from the shore.

   It splashed back down, so I drew it out, wringing, and twisting it, "I
don't want to get it much shorter," I told him over my shoulder, and hung
it from the same shade tree I had my net from.

   I have to do this, pretty much every time I meet a new crew.  Send a
message, don't fuck with me.  Loud and clear.

   "So," Not really a very good boat net.  "You guys fishers too?"

   "Coastal, mostly.  Whatever we can carry, and sell, but there's always
more fish." Yeah, not running out any time soon.

   "Rigger?" Gotta love riggers, they do all that climbing, pulling,
swimming and ropework to keep their hands strong, and rough.  "Fighter?"
Nice arms in that sleeveless jerkin.  {Take a rectangle of material, cut a
neckline in the middle, fold it over the shoulders, and sew up the sides.
If you're fancy, bevel it in to fit the sides better, but it doesn't look
like a potato sack on him, because he's a rigger.  He doesn't have to work
out.}

   "Yeah?"

   "And you grind down swords to, short sword length." He nodded when I
turned around, "So, you think you could put a slashing tip on these, right
about here?" I pulled mine out to guesstemate, a little long, because you
can always take more off, you can't grind it any longer.

   "Yeah," he held it up to look at it.  "There's a grinding wheel on the
ship." Happened I saw a spinning wheel first, the difference other than
having a stone instead of a wooden wheel was pedals on both sides.  "I'm
fresh out of money, don't bet you wanna buy any fish, but maybe we could
work something out." Stood up straight to crane my neck, and look
conspikously at a reasonably private spot behind a rather large chunk of
rock, I'd been using for shade when the sun was going down.  "Or, did you
have plans tonight?"

   "Not really," pretty hot back there, but it'd be getting dark soon,
they're already starting to make fires back in the bays, I picked one with
a good view of both of them, and even past them, depending which way they
inevitably pulled in.  He smelled great, tasted salty, and gave me a good
thick creamy drink to whet my appetite.  Then fixed up his shorts.  I
smelled lamb, so we went back to the fires to see what else they had to
eat, and drink.

   I learned his name, eventually.  I had to call him, for something, so I
hit another boatman's shoulder, pointed, and he said "Karlo." I suppose,
there is a difference between boatmen, and sailors.  Let me just say that,
for instance my family lived in boats, we sailed, and that was our lives.
This crew had a boat, and sailed, but Karlo and the crew were mostly, young
adventurers.  Their boat was a means to an end, a way around, stayed within
sight of land for the most part, or when they went out to sea, it was a
short island hop through a high traffic route with multiple islands,
because they couldn't navigate, and could get lost.  Which ment the fairly
easy route from Krete to Antekithra, Kitrha, and eventually to mainland
Moria.  As my family, and their fisherfriends also did, but again, they had
done it.  I grew up on that route, and could have done the rest of my life
had we not fallen behind the school.

   From the deck, we could look down and when the water was clear, see the
fishes, and their lives.  Many of our stories were about fishes and their
lives, along with fanciful things like the Atargati {Merfolk, as she heard
of them.  Named after their Assyrian goddess Atargatis who legends
eventually told of her siring the mythical race of.} So, I know what
happened, we fell away from the school.  Sometimes, the Shark comes,
scatters the school, and eats the ones that get away from the rest. 
Others, they follow the school, and eat the ones that get tired, and stray
behind.  We got tired, and stopped in a place, thinking it was safe.  What
happened, what was done to us, I wanted to cry, but I understood, was told
from an early age.  Ships are like fish, and boats like ours are like
smaller fish, why we sailed, and rowed in a large school.  Less likely to
be attacked, by 1 ship with boats.

   "Hh," Karlo held me.  I didn't cry, but I still had memories, being
around this crewload of men, and their longboat.  "Hh," not on the
longboat, with the outriggers, but I spent a long time on that longboat.

   "You have no money." I shook my head against his chest.  "Would you like
to make some?"

   "How?"

   "You asked, earlier if I had plans, in the city." I nodded, "I had
thought to, visit a friend.  I know there, she is not as interesting, and
fun as you, but she has money, and she likes me.  Her husband likes me, to
watch her with me, and pays me well."

   "For," what's the word, in latin?  "Phylo?"

   "Yes, Adolterro." Which I found to be basically a word for Mistress,
only male.  The other part of a Cuckhold relationship, and sometimes used
for Giggilo, or male prostitute.  Which was not 'Karlo, he was basically a
young Mercenary.  Which is to say, if the money is good, sailing, fighting,
killing, stealing, or fucking a wealthy gentrywoman to get her husband in a
mood...  "And I believe they would love you, as well." Of course, he likes
sex for free, but he likes to fight for free too, and he loves to do either
for money.

   He hugged my shoulders.  And, I thought about it.  I had, not talked
about sex, especially in latin.  I was not raised prudish, in my family,
and the extended family, walking around on deck naked wasn't even, really a
significant thing.  We swam nude, in the Pori bay, and.  I choked up. 
"Huh!"

   "I am sorry," he held my, but I didn't want him to see me cry.  For some
reason, I did not harbor any, romantic feelings for him, but he is a man,
who respected me.  And thought I was beautiful, I like that too, but most
men, especially Latino, that I had dealt with so far, tend to see girls,
and that's it.  We are beautiful, but that's about all we are good for,
looking at, fucking, having children and taking care of them if they have
marriage in mind.  He likes that I can fight, and pull my weight, and fish,
and I love that.  He is fun, and I guess the sunset sparring, twilight
blowjob, then firelight, Grecco Roman beach Barbyque.  {An American word,
for something that's older than spoken language} was quite honestly the
most romantic thing that had ever happened to me, but I had no thought of
love, for Carlo.  I would have, willingly warmed his bed, it turns out they
slept in hammocks, with the sail tented over the beams, turned in between
the tandem masts.  "I had just thought, you could make some money."

   "Yes," I turned, could not see him over my shoulder, but the firelight
shining from his face, like the not yet risen moon, and he kissed the bone
beneath my eye.  "I would, like to make some money.  With you."

   And the woman.  I do not like, Gentri people.  They have not treated me
well, between the slavers, my first husband, the Officer who put a price on
my head for refusing his proposals, and most of the ones I have met since.
For one thing, they dress so, impractically?  Especially the Venuzi,
compared to the Greek families, but these were Greek famili, and old Greek.
Still had some nobility, in the City and district of Xavia, so I'll call
them the Chani.  At least they did not dress, quite so rediculously, but
still, rather rediculously.

   And servants, women, men, and older children.  My age, and older, I
understand, the couple was, sexually experimental.  Prolyphic, many
children as well, who were also sexually prolyphic, they had books for
entertainment, as well as learning, but also a lot of free time, for sexual
entertainment, and had for a long time.  Prostitutes, especially muskular
tanned young men willing to do, not anything, but quite a lot for money, if
the money was good enough.  So, at the gate, he was greeted as "Yonn." I
asked if an Alias would be desirable for this, being led by lanternlight
across the courtyard, and he said it was short for his name.  "Yonkarlo."

   It was late, the moon was low again, and the stars hard to see with it's
light, and the light of the city.  I had seen it, when I was here before.
There was enough light, you could see it before we came over the horizon,
and saw the Pharhos itself.  {And Alexandria, but it wasn't THE Pharos of
Alexandria, just A Pharos of Alexandria.} But it was dark with the moon
shadowed by the house itself, which was large.  Larger than any ship I had
seen, with many floor, and a couple square towers, and a railing in
between. She looked down, calling to her servant an to us.  "Yonne," waved,
in what i took to be a sleepshift.  Or a nightgown, but so light you could
see her body in the light from the doorway behind her, "Who is that with
you?"

   He cupped his hands, "A girl I met on the beach."

   "Show them up," she nodded, and her servant held the door for us. 
Armed, a long light sword I did not see the blade of, but expected to be
edgeless with a good point for piercing armor.  Which was popular on Crete
at the time, especially with the Gentry.

   "Carlo," he relieved him of his swords, so I offered mine, with the
bladed held up to cradle on my forarms.  Ground down to slashing tips, as I
wanted, I had not much practice with them yet, but I really like the
ballance better, as well as the original reason for cutting them down. 
Reach is great, but I'm not winning any reach fight even with a Boarding
pike.  That is how swordmen win, and I am not a swordsman.  However, the
primary reason was I have to carry them, and not get picked up, on
description, for wearing them crossed over my back.  So, he also helped me
punch out, and re stitch my swordbelts to carry at my hips, along my
thighs. Which is a lot better, for having them at hand, and fighting in
close quarters like a cabin, or back alley cuthroats.  Something I may have
learned a little about, if i happened to rob a drunken gentryman, when i
was here before, weeks ago, which upped my Warrent.  To a whole Ducat. 
Last I heard, at that time.

   And, add Prostitution to the list.  In my family, it was "A waste of
money." ~Papa.  On the slavers hip.  "Hh," well never mind, then on most of
the Galleons I had been on, it was something for the men to work off the
blood they built up at sea.  For a Gentrywoman, well.  I had never tried
Harlotry before, nor had i ever been with a woman.

   "Come here," in her bedroom, in her nightgown, but not backlit she got
up from s Backless Curule chair, draped along the arm, her legs crossed in
front of her, and touched my hair first.  At my shoulders, her chest right
in front of me, and again, I did not look at a woman that way before.  But
Karlo explained it on the walk, we were going to have sex.  For money, I
had no idea how a woman has sex with a girl, but it's different from seeing
your aunt swimming in the water topless, or climing back on deck to sun dry
and get dressed.  Or even having sex with my uncle, but she reminded me, of
one of my aunts.  "What a lovely girl," she held my hair back, from my
face, to look up at her.  She frowned, back, I realized, and relaxed my
brow, my mouth.  "Ooh, but a tough one, aren't you?" I nodded.  She took my
hand, "Come, have a seat." she offered the Curule by the bed.  I didn't
know the word, not really up on my Greco-Romanesque furniture any more than
my gentri fashion, but i learned it later, not one of the folding ones? 
Like a chair with two backs, or a thrown with 2 arms, and no back.  And a X
shaped padded frame.  Comfortable enough.

   "Are you tired?" I shook my head.  "Hungry?  again, "Thirsty?"

   I shrugged, "Yeah." She snapped, at Carlo, who fetched a gobblet, and
wine.  A glass goblet, I had just seen windows.  Well, pane windows, the
first time a year or 2 before, but a blown glass goblet, and rich dark
strong sweet wine.  Very good wine, about the best I have ever tasted. 
"Mh!" I drank it down.  Carlo refilled it, brought it back, and she draped
herself on the side of the bed.  He bent over, 'Tell her she's beautiful,'
I nodded, 'She likes that.'

   I just had to run my eyes, up her leg, crossed over the other, under the
nightslip like a sheet, the witest fabric I had seen, and so shear I could
make out the shadow of her beard through it.  "You look wonderful," I
didn't have to lie, and her chest, swelled.  Large, round, and heavy as she
let her arm down so lay her hair across the pillows.  Quilted, velvet, with
tassels on the corners.  This is how they live, everything must look so
boring to them, for them to want to add something, to everything, and make
it more interesting.  They experience the world with the eyes, it all must
be beautiful, if it works, it is ugly.  "Come to bed," She waved me up, out
of the Curule, and lay back, leaving a little more room on the edge.  Like
a rail, not of a ship, or boat, but more like the railing of her balcony,
but she stopped me.  Ath the hips, her eyes down to work at my swordbelts.
"How old are you, dear?"

   I shrugged.

   She looked up.  "You don't know?" I shook my head.

   "I did not count," don't really care.

   Karlo, behind me, pulled up my shirt, and she kissed my Navel first. 
"Mh," she licked her lips.  My swordbelts hung, from the lases to tie them
down above my knees, and she pulled at my laces.  "Such a strong, rough,
dirty little girl." I did not understand, it was insulting, but I was not
insulted.  I just lifted my arms, for Karlo to pull my jerkin over.  Easier
without my swordbelts crossed over my shoulders, I did not have sheathes,
or sabbards.  Just simple loops to hold them, and now a triangle at the end
of the strap to hold the tips, so they did not slap against my thighs
walking, but the pommels rocked on my hips when I walked.  But she had my
laces open, and her fingertips inside to pinch the hairs between them, and
pull them out.

   "Hh,"

   Karlo whispered, 'Is all right?' in my ear, so I nodded my answer.

   "Hhh!"

   She blew the sweat off my hairs, and slipped my breeches down over my
hips.  Karlo held me, my back to the rough home spun over his chest, runnbe
my shoulders, down my arms, and around to my chest.  I was old enough,
however diet, and exercise.  {On a more modern note, Paleo people just
stop. If you eat every day, much less meat, every meal, several times a
day, you do not understand even advanced ancient cultures that ate what
they could, when they could.  I always fished, could always get and eat,
fresh fish, but rarely had grain to boil with it, usually reboiled several
times, seasoned with salt water into a sort of porrage, rarely had any kind
of root vegitables, almost never fresh greens, nor herbs, other than
olives, which we usually have because they grow every where, and keep well
at sea.} And I was totally thinking about food, not hungry, while she
kissed, and sucked the salt from my pubic hairs.  Likem y sowrds/belts,
instead of the beautiful woman, in her beautiful white dress, until i felt
it.  Her shoulders under it, but she picked at the knots inside my knees,
so my sword belts could fall, and she could push my breeches down to my
sandals, and ankles.

   "HHH!" My head back, on Karlos shoulders, he held me while I tried to
pull my sandals through, and got them stuck.

   "Lay down," she scooched her hips aside, then her shoulders, her lacy
round chest rolling under the light soft smooth cloth i could not be sure
had any fibers in it, they were so fine.  Karlo pulled the starps over my
heels, and helped me out of the breeches.  I was naked, but my eyes
entranced by her dark nipples, staring at me through the fine sheer fabric,
and my hands went to her chest.  "Hm!" She lay back, her hair across the
thick soft deep mattress of her bed, which i thought explained the round
railing, still under my ankles.  Karlo held my bottom, gently squeezing,
and turning his cupped hands, so i felt her chest that way.  he kissed,
first one side then the other, and her hands came up in my hair, to my
head. I really fell in love with her nightgown, the material as light as a
cloud, or I could imagine it floating up, in the hot muggy night air, like
sailcoth in water.  "Hm!" She held my face in it, and Karlo kissed deeper.
Not in my, well asshole.  He gave me his tongue, but farther up, and I
licked through the fabric, cupping, and squeezing through it.  "Yonne," He
stopped, and pulled his nose clear.  "Clean her well."

   "Yes, mistress."

   "Hh!" she sighed, "Such strong, rough hands for a girl." I did not know,
but Karlo told me later.  She says these things, for her husband.  Who I
had not seen, hiding, watching, building up his blood.  "I will make you a
man, tonight." My heart beat, so excitedly.  "Girl." She never asked my
name, called me "Koryn," girl.  Or Corrin, pretty girl, in latin, as I
understand it.  Same word, I can't be sure which.  But she kept talking
about, the boyish, practical aspects.  It's not boyish, or manly to me.  I
work, I get dirty, calloused, I'm lean, muscular on my bones which were
then starting to broadened into a feminine hourglass, but she's a
gentrywoman, with a thing for rough, tough, hard, dirty smelly men, and
girls, like me.  Not because I want to be a man, or I'm jealous, but I
never had the privilege of being pampered as a maiden to marry to a wealthy
man.  I had that explained to me, by my first love, about my first husband,
because he had told the crew that's what I was.  A maiden, his wife,
instead of a sex slave.  When my people basically marry when the gods smile
on our union, and bless us with a child.  That's it, you're pregnant? 
Congratulations, you're his wife.  Swim over to one of the other boats, so
you don't get knocked up by your cousin, or uncle.

   While, for a gentry couple, we were a kink.  The fantasy of how the
other half has sex.  She felt down my back, around my hips, and between us
to slip the cloth up her legs, her soft midriff.  "Hh!" I stopped kissing
her.  "Snhhh!" Smelled her.  And Karlo, kept.  Cleaning me out, as she
said. Karlo is dirty, I like it too, because it's human.  Sex, human sex,
not shaved, brushed draped, made up purfumed apes in denial, but real
animal sex.  We're animals, look it up.  We fuck like animals.  The gentry
is about covering it all up, with fashion more beautifl than the woman,
though i must admit, 1 thing.  As simple as this magnificent slip, really
added a lot.  She was soft, and smooth, and weak, and so full of lust it
filled the room like incense smoke.  "Huh!" And Kalro kept lappong back and
forth between my holes.  I sucked him off earlier, but my first husband did
this.  Not to pleasure me, to get me ready for his fingers, then his. 
"NH,"

   She held my face, kissed me, then pushed me down.  "Hh, hh, hh!" Past
her heaving chest, still held together in my hands.  The ruffled folds of
her pushed up sheer, to her thick dark curly fragrant beard, and the steam
rising from her pot.  "Hmmm!" Her soft belly fell, and tightened, without
any sign that there was a single muscle in there.  But she had done this,
kissed my navel, and I slipped my tone in, "Oh!" she rubbed cirlces in my
hair with my hands, and her tummy snapped out like a sail catching a gust.
"HhHuh Huh!"

   She pushed me down, pulled my hair a little, but by the shoulders.  She
didn't have to, make me.  Just smelling her sweet beard, and the musky
womanly, "HhHh!" I was exited.

   "Yonne," he nodded, in my ass, "Now Yonne, fuck her now."

   "Nh?" He held my hips, my ass open, and it did not hurt like before.  I
had only been raped this way, but I knew.  This is how one has sex, when
you don't want to get pregnant, and he knew how, "Hmmm!" To make it feel
good.

   "Yes!" Beck up to my hair, "Kiss me, deeper.  Uh, yes!  Lick my out,
taste my lust on your tongue."

   "Nlh, Luh?" I had no idea what I was doing, I had just been kissed, for
my pleasure, it was up side down, and I had no idea what the Fuck I was
doing, but it didn't matter.

   "Uh!" loud, acting it up, bucking her crotch in my face, as Karlo pushed
me into her.  But, got it felt great.  I was so hot, and sweating, his
hands slipped on my hips, but he just slipped them back up to grip me
again, and pull himself into me again, and my face was full Venus, and she
was so flavorful with lust it got stuck in my nose so I could smell her for
hours after, and I had to stop, pant, shaking and moaning.

   "OahhhHH!"

   And Karlo stopped, "Hh,huh, huhHh!" Deep inside me, he relaxed, and i
felt his hips around me, his chest on my back, his sweat, and deep heavy
breathing.  His arms around me, holding me.  'hhhh!" His breath in my hair.

   Then, we saw her husband.  Karlo rolled me asside, out of his way, and
held me.  behind me, softening to slip out.  I shuddered, and hunched, but
he was old.  Fat, balding, and his beard was white.  But full beam, diving
between her legs until she was almost screaming with lust, and he spent
deep inside her.

   By then we're up, I was dressed, and still buckling on my belts.  Karlo
hadn't even taken his shirt off, and merely pulled his shorts down to his
knees.

   The held up Ducats, a few, I didn't count.  Her husband pulling on a
robe, and walking out without a word.  Didn't even look at me.  "A few
extra for the girl." He servant added 2 more.

   I shurgged, "I don't care about money."

   Karlo looked at me like I was insane, then back at the tray with the
gold coins on them.  Obviously a Lot of money.

   "What do you care about?"

   She took off her nightshirt, and dressed by a mirror (Polished silver,
obscenely expensive) but i picked up the nightshirt, smelled her sweat and
lust through it, and rubbed it on my cheek.

   "Hm," shrugged, "Money is only good for what it can get you."

   She turned, brushing out her long loose curls.

   "If you would like that," she waved, "But it is not worth much.  What do
you want?  If you could have anything, anything in the world."

   "A ship."

   She frowned, "Well, that's a bit much for one night."

   "Well, not the ship of my own," wouldn't know what to do with a whole
ship, "But a ship to live, and work on.  I was born at sea, lived my whole
life, up to when this moon" pointed "was new on ships, they are my homes.
So, what i want, for your money, is to go home."

   "My husband has ships,' she nodded.  A merchant fleet, in fact.  She
went out, to talk to him.  he came back, dressed, or mostly so.  Not, the
whole going out to be seen by other full parade dress, but he wasn't naked
as I had seen before.

   "My wife tells me you are a sailor?" I nodded.  He looked me up and
down, doubtful.  "What can you do?"

   "Riggers' mate, swordsman, fencing instructor, fishing;"

   "Swordsman," he laughed, "Hah!  Can you handle a full sized sword?" He
looked doubtfully at the empty loops and straps on my legs.

   I looked around.  he had them, not like full suits of tilting armor
lined up with the swords held up at cruciform guard {The way she holds it,
blade down, like a cross,} Buit among other things, I saw a dueling set
pointed, crossed on the wall downstairs.  "You a swordfighter?"

   "One of the best in Itali."

   "All right," I went down and around, as i thought they were edgeless
stabbing weapons.  "Flats?"

   "How do you mean?"

   "The flat," I held up my hands, smacked one against the back of the
other, "Slash with the flats so they do not cut, but no stabbing."

   "So," he reached up, out of my reach, and pulled them out of the wire
loops holding them behind a buckle shield.  "Sparring." And holding it up,
his servant set it aside.  He handed it to me, 2 handed, by the blade.

   I tested the balance, slipped it up to the pommel, and held it straight
up.  "Ready?" he saluted {Straight up, right about the hip, between the
eyes,' and before he brought it back down to arm, i let the pommel slip,
over, and caught the handle back grip, to hold up, and sweep his blade
asside.

   WHP!  He juped back, from the sharp slap inside his knee, and fell back,
swinging over, and slashing for a drawing cut to my shoulder, but i got the
quilion over, and parried it asside with the ricasso, so he repostes, and
slashed for my fist.  Cupping the pommel like a penis, I switched to
halfsword, with a side-step to fall back, and circle out of reach.

   WH!  Missed the swat to his bottom, he was spry and agile for someone so
old and fat, and "AH!" he got my arm, SCRH!  My cheek, then SHK!  Ripped
down my shirt, diagonally, with a tip-slash, but didn't even touch my skin.

   "Yes," he tucked it back, under his arm, and held out his hand.  I held
up the hilt, hafswords by the ricasso, and handed it back.  "My son could
use a second."

   "I am not a whore." I nodded.  "You understand?"

   "Yes." he nodded back, "He will not treat you like a whore.  i promise,
by my inspicit instruction, he will treat you as a second."

   "Good."

   "Besides," he clapped my back, "He'd like Gyancarlo better that way."

   I took 2, Ducats, my bonus and let him have the rest.  Giankarlo, he
values money, too much.  Fantastic in bed, but I predict probably capable
of getting downright stupid with too much gold in his eyes.  It is a
weakness, I had seen before.  I believe he fetishized the gentry, as they
fetishized us as well.  But, that's how I got back off land, a deck under
my feet, and another crew to live with.  That's how I got back home.
   ;