Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 For reference, this is about the Island, and some of the Men (Or boys
forced into adult situations) in her life.  Again, a woman molesting, and
raping a boy does not make it all right.  Not that she thinks of it this
way.

   Peztous {bF Mole Rape Slav}

   My name was Aziz, but the men called me Peztous as a joke.  I was at
sea, with my father when there was a battle, which we lost.  2 Cogs, no
cannon, but catapults with nets.  The cabin door was broken in, my father
fought, and was killed.

   Shamefully by a woman.  She asked in Greek if anyone spoke Greek, and I
raised my hand.  "I speak Greek, and Latin," and of course Ozmon, being
Morean.  I also read and write, all three.  Most of the victors were
Venizzi, but Kretes, they said she was "From Pori." {Literally, "touPori,
or "diPori".}

   "How old are you son?" I told her that I was a dozen.  Then, she took me
out, to where the survivors were tied up.  "Tell them, this is My ship," I
translated, "And if they wish to stay, I need riggers." The first words,
she repeated, often on the end of orders, which is how I became known as
Peztous.  "Tell them!" Aziz Peztous.  Ozo di Pori, the mouth of Pori to the
Venizzi, and eventually official Envoy of the Fleet of Kythera.  "Where is
this ship from?"

   I told her, "Kordos," {Korynth}

   She nodded, pointed, "If you wish to desert, Kordos is that way.  Tell
them." Eventually, I began to sign my name, Aziz Peztous, or phoenetically
(As the Phoeneceans) in Ozmon.  {Ottoman Turkish.} I was also known as
Peztous Ozmon, since it was my duty, and pleasure to speak for her, to the
Moreans.

   Then, she took me to Her cabin, to "Get my things," from living there
with my father.  Alone with her, her swords, and her woolen whip, she asked
me if I had grown any hair, "On it." At first, I knew not that she ment,
then she felt in front of me, and asked if it had a skin on it's head.  I
nodded, as she does, for yes.  She said "Let us see this." and made me
disrobe.  Helped me take off my clothes, and put me up on the bed. 
Kneeling, "Spread your knees," she picked it up, and felt my stones in
their purse, "Does it grow any bigger?"

   I nodded, "When I am older." My father told me, then she asked me what
was wrong, why I was crying, if I found her beautiful.  I nodded, I did, I
still do, though it was years before I loved her.

   "So," she looked up, smiling, "It does get bigger." She pushed it down,
with her fingertips, and asked if I was making curds yet?  I did not know I
had not, made a woman of course.  "Of course not," she pulled it out, and
pushed it back.  "You do this?"

   "No, it is forbidden."

   "By your father?" I nodded, "Your father is dead."

   I know, "You killed him."

   "He attacked Me."

   "You attacked his ship." He was defending it.

   "No, my husband did, he just gave it to me.  A late wedding gift."

   I started crying harder, but she did not stop, pushing, and pulling me.

   "Lie down, my boy." She held me, pulling, and pushing over my hip, and
wiped the labneh on my shirt.  Then I passed out, when I awoke, I was
alone, and thought it a nitemare.  Then, I went out to find my father. 
Instead, I found her, ordering the men, pointing with her sword, and
cracking her whip.  Beating the air, so hard it broke like lightning, side
to side as the oarsmen pulled, and the riggers swung the {Tandem} sails
back and forth.  She did not beat the men, then.  Yet many had their shirts
torn, and bore the welts I would see a lot more.  They do not bleed, nor
scar, but they do hurt.  The cost for disobeying, or hesitation.

   "Good," she saw me, wrapped her whip over her shoulder, and hip.  "My
little tongue." Short one, Mikri Glossa, or in Anatoli, Kuzuk.  "They can
listen to you, or they can hear it from Her." She held up the handle of her
woolen lash.  Her long tongue.  "Tell them." Gently, I nodded, and
translated.  "This is my tongue, my mouth, he speaks, and it's coming from
me." She waited, didn't have to tell me to translate.  "Now;" she went back
to ordering the riggers to change the sails, the Helmsman to bring us
about, tacking serpentine south/east, then back S/W, with the oars against
the sails, and rudders.  {One on each side, not unlike the push/pull oars
of a small launch} Making way back toward Antikythera, with a stop by the
rock, Her small island, Pori.

   "You've heard of me?"

   Then, I recognized her, or I heard of her.  "Manawat."

   "I, have not heard that name."

   "She is," I had to look it up.  We had a book, of local myths, "Ah," a
translation of "Hesiod." It took some flipping to find her, engraving. 
"Chaos, Erebis, Nyx, and."

   "Nemesis," she nodded.

   "Yes, the witch of the rock.  Between Kythra, and Antekythra." As I
heard it.

   "Witch?"

   "You have Magic, yes?  Sorcery?"

   She shrugged, "I don't know any."

   "They say, you.  Enchant men, like," I had to look it up, or started to.


   "Sappho." From the Voyage of Odyssius.

   "No, Medea." Sappho was a poet, and said to turn men into animals.

   "Who?" She's Greek, and she does not know?  So, I read the story, or
that part of the Argossey for her.  {As the voyage of Odyssius became the
Odyssey, the voyages of Jason, and the Argo became the Argossey.}

   "So," she nods, "Yes, not unlike Medea." In that she makes men do her
bidding, and exacts Revenge from her husband.  {Nemesis being the Titaness
of Divine Retribution} In that case by murdering their children.  "Only I
do not know Sorcery or Enchantment." She knows how to fight, how to
Command, and how to Torture.  She also knows how to treat a man, to get
what she wants.  Pleasure, or pain, whichever gets the job done, which in
my culture, or the one I grew up in, is considered a form of Enchantment.
Using sex to control men.

   But it was too late for me.  my tongue, or Her's.  The whip, she gives
you a choice.  Whichever you chose, you do what she wants, one hurts, the
other feels good.  It was not a difficult choice.

   At Pori, we were run aground in the bay, our escorts, the ships that
intercepted and flanked us before I was taken back to the cabin threw up
lines, to men dropped off on the low north eastern spit, to climb up, and
catch ropes to moor to the rocks above.  Cliffs, but "High tide," she
pointed, showed me the tide lines in the rocks, below the surface except
between waves.  Then it went out, grounding us in the bottom, so the lines
were pulled tight, and men sent to patch the outer hull on ropes.  She
commanded the repair, stressing speed to get us back to drydock at
Antikythera, on the next tide to lift us off the bottom of the bay.

   The Venizi men called it a "Galleot." or "Demi-Galleon." {Hybrid rowed
Galley, and sailing Galleon} The oarsmen did most of the repairs, while the
carpenters split, and cut wedges, and a fire was started to heat up tar. 
Above, on the cliffs, it was lowered on ropes, and smelt of Turpens. 
{Creosote, rendered down from Juniper bushes native to the islands.  For a
scent mnemonic, sniff a railroad tye.} "Come," with her, back to her cabin.
"You are making giaośrti," she scratched at it, dried on my shirt, "So I
will make you a man."

   "You are married." I shook my head.

   "You will learn a few things," she held up a finger, even as she undid
her clothes, and started pulling them off.  "1: I don't ask.  2: I get what
I want, the longer it takes, the more it hurts, and 3: No man owns me.  My
husband, thinks he owns me.  I take men, and some times boys to make men.
You are Mine, and my husbands have no say in it."

   I swallowed, nodded, and in spite of myself, felt my lust rise.

   "Now, get undressed, and get in bed." She was down to her underclothes,
unwound the wrapping from her chest, but wore her, unclean cloth, to cover
her shame to bed.  "All of it," she undid my undercloth, and pulled it off.
"It will get bigger," she promised, then bent to, take me in her mouth. 
She did not say anything, and I lay back.  I was old enough, as she said, I
was making "Curds," as she called it.  She took my hands, put them to the
knot of her cloth, then when I had it open, she took my head, and held my
face to give me milk.

   She made milk, though I had seen no children, they must be with their
father, or fathers.  I felt her beard, and she held my head, moaning
"Deeper, touch deeper." So, I felt inside, her folds, her unclean place,
but I obeyed.  I am old enough, as she said I am starting to grow hairs,
make yogurt, ready to become a man.  That is not the problem, she is
married, her husband still alive, an infidel, accused witch, and shamefully
molested me before.  I was not so sure I wished to give her this, but it
was not my wish, it was her need.  She did not ask, "Now, put it in me."
She just called it it.  Now i knew what it ment, and she pulled me up
between her legs to move my hand.  Punched it between her fingers to slip
it up and down between her hairs.  Down, to her dirty well, then inside
her. Feeling my hips, and grasping my bottom.  To pull me out, and push me
back in, "Slowly, don't get exited, I also spend first." I nodded, "Be
patient, as I was patient with you." it had not even been a day, half a
day? Certainly not a day or night since she killed my father, and "Oh," she
closed my eyes, with her thumbs.  Wiped my tears.  "I know, this is your
first time, but you will get used to it." She kissed my head, made a
hissing sound, "Shshshsh," I cried, but she kept pushing me, in and out of
her, barely more than a thumb, but slowly.  Then, she felt between us, her
thick wool, and my thinned hairs, I felt her fingers, on the top of me,
slipping in and out, then shaking.  Between us, faster, and faster, until
she tightened.  "Huh!" I do not know that word, "Astarte." I know that one,
she relaxed, her shaking finger, but twitched under me until I spent. 
"Huh!" she pushed me back, "Thank you," pulled me up by my hips, "My little
man," and suckled the last from me, soft, and slippery on her wet tongue.
"Hh!"

   She held me, still mourning for my father, and fell asleep before me.

   "Aziz, light?"

   "Mh?" It was dark in the room, so I got up, and opened the door first.
It was dark, but there was torches, and I took one to light a lantern with
a match.

   "Much better, thank you, Aziz." {The 5th Element.  Yes, she quotes
anachronistically too.} I found my clothes, "I want you to go, talk to the
men." she stood up, pulled out a cloth, and a knife to cut it down. 
"Purple," she held it up to the lantern, "Nautilo?" Latin for Snail, I
nodded.

   "Phoenecian ink." She nodded, smiling, and pulled it between her legs to
cover herself.  Pulled out more, "What we were trading, from Kythera.  I
thought, "Your orders?"

   "For you.  I want you to talk to the men.  For me, but say it is from
you."

   "Lie to them?"

   "Yes, can you do that?" I did not know, I would try.  "Tell them, I
abused you." What would be the lie?  {She molested and raped him, crying
for his father, within hours of making him an Orphan.  She does not see it
this way,} "To find out what they think, they say about me, how they feel
about my leadership, and how I command them."

   "Yes, Kaputa." {Head, female head, Mistress.} Dressed, I went out, but
some had come to look in.  See her dressing, as I had come out naked for
the light.  I told them, did not have to force tears from my eyes, how "She
killed my father, took me, made me spill my seed," they saw the stain,
dried on the front, "Then raped me, and tried to enchant me.  She is a
witch of Manawat, and the Enchantress of the rock." We had just left, with
the tide.  I looked up, at the moon, "Where are we headded?" If she gave an
order to leave, I was not there to hear, and relay it.  Up, at the qahafa,
the small ladle in the north sky.

   They had heard, that she enchants men, and makes them, as a Harem.  Only
a reverse harem, a woman with many men.  Which is as infidelous as,
commanding men, beating them, raping them, or making them please her. 
Making men women, as a man makes women, one of the worst evils, in our
culture.  Just standing, all but naked with the door open, for men to see,
she would go to Duzakh, and take us with her.  Drujh, she would have us row
her, to hell.

   Pretty much what I figured.  "Aziz," she called to me.  From the door,
"Help me wrap my chest." I nodded, and went to her, "Close the door." She
held it under her arm, "Hold it up," turned, and wrapped it under her
breasts.  "What did they say?"

   "You are a demon, or with demons.  Druj, liar, temptress, and if not
possessed by a Djin, then ordering us to sail down the well to the
underworld."

   "Inferno."

   "No, Hell is cold, wet, and dark.  Duzakh, the well leads down there to
drown, freeze, and die, if not lifted up to heaven with Righteousness." As
I will be, now that she has despoiled me with her lust.  Raped me like a
virgin, made useless for her husband, or as one, though i have no virginal
blood to shed.  Still, she took it from me, called it Her's.  Mine.  She
made me a man, but not a righteous one.  I sniffed, and she held my face to
her chest to dry my tears.

   "It's all right," she sighed, "Huh!  I have no intention on sailing to
hell.  Your hell or mine, to drown nor freeze, I'm just trying to make a
living, and save my people."

   "What from?"

   "You and your holy war."

   "Jihad."

   "And the Venixi crusaders.  These were our islands." she pointed to the
bookshelf, "You took our stories,, our learning," where the book of Hesiod
was replaced.  "Your god fighting their god brought your Duzahk here, to
our lands, our waters, and islands, my home, and killed my family in front
of me.  You understand?  Genocide, you're picking over the bones of Greece,
you take her knowledge, Her culture, and sacrificed Her to your Gods.  Our
gods are dead, raped by your gods."

   "There is only one God, Alimaz;" {Roughly All and One.}

   "Ha,hah?  Then why does he fight their God?  Over the dead of My
people?"

   "It, is a long story, it would take a long time to explain."

   "Write it down, and read it to me later.' she pulled on her shirt, hung
her long sword by the strap over her shoulder, and a giant dagger on her
thigh by another around her waist.  Crossing at the hip, back, and forth to
tie at her knee.  Stretch, twisting.  "Do you believe they might Mutiny?"

   "I believe it is imminent, they already sail north to Kythra, and
Morea."

   "Where is my fleet?"

   "The other 2 ships?  I did not look, I'm sorry."

   She released her woolen tongue, creaking twisted in her grip and felt my
face.  "This is not for you," she shook her head, "You did good, my little
man." Held my face up, to kiss me.  "Are you rested?" I looked at the bed,
shook my head as she does.  "Then go back to sleep, get some rest."

   "But the men."

   She twisted her whip, "They had their chance to talk to you." Shook her
head, and went out.  Hair braided up, like her whip, then twisted into a
crown, I went to the door, to watch her lower the woolen taper over the
side, then pulled the door to bar it from the inside.  I went to bed, but
not to sleep.  I was too afraid, they would not kill her.  Only anger her.

   When the fighting was over, I heard it get quiet, then her steps outside
the door.  I knew it was her.  She pulled it, against the Bar.  "AZIZ!" She
beat it, once.  "Wake up," THUD.  "It's over, unbar it."

   I did, knowing she would break it down if I didn't.  "Hh,"

   "What happened?" She dropped her sword on the bed, rubbed her shoulder,
and twisted her neck until it creaked.

   "We turned around.  Go talk to the men."

   I did, they said she was "like a Dervish." She went into a
battle-trance, whirling with 2 swords, and her whip.

   "How many were killed?"

   "None."

   "Wounded?"

   "None, she just beat us."

   "All of you?"

   "With the flats, the pommels, and the handle on her whip, she did not
spill a drop of blood.  It is true, she is with the Djinn.  Possessed, a
consort of;"

   "Yes, I know, but how does she fight with 2 swords, and a whip in 2
hands?"

   "Magic," they shrugged.  Some of the oarsman showed me, we were full
sail with the wind anyway.  With ropes, and oars, under their arm, wrapped
around it, or a leg for the whip.  Said "She swung it from the lash end
too, like a flying mace," the large lead bead on the end, with the handle
beaten into it like an axe's.  I got as many accounts as I could of the
battle.  The Venizzi onboard, just held the rudders, and guarded the mast,
while she beat the men, all of them, single handedly, then went back to
bed. I went to speak to them, up on the roof of the cabin.  They told me
Her orders, which I told to the men.

   "Kapsali, if I do not wake up in harbor, there will be Hell to pay." She
ment it, "The men are free to leave when we land.  Pay them what we can, I
need some wreck." They told me, she needs to sleep, "Hard, not gently, I
would not disturb her." I heard her bar the door anyway.

   I went back to the men, the oarsmen gathered on the fore-deck.  {Pretty
much just a triangular platform, with spare rigging coiled under it, but no
wall, or door to make a cabin.}

   "You have lost any thought of defying her."

   "We do not follow witches."

   "Huh," I shook my head, "She is not with Djinn, she carries the
vengeance of her God, and Goddess in her hands."

   "All bow before Allah."

   I laughed, "Is that what just happened?  Trial by Combat!"

   "Is not our custom, Boy."

   "Sir, with all due respect, where the fuck was Allah?  Was he watching?
Because he did not aid your hands.  Twenty, and Twelve men, the Gods aided
her's." {16 oars, 2 per oar.  32 oarsmen.} "Look," I pointed back at the
sails, "She said Kapsali, and the Winds carry us to it, so you can heal. 
This is Her ship, these are Her waters, and Her Gods aid her."

   "What Gods?" I brought only paper, a well of ink, and a quill to cut, I
need to write.  "First of all, Manawat, Nemesis." I pointed to the sky,
"Daughter of Night, and Shadow."

   "Demons!"

   "Yes, but also the hand of Retribution for her Gods!" Holymen, phah! 
"Kuhl Wahad, how many must she kill next time?  She did not even harm you,
should she need you on the oars," the wind still steady, "And Oranos
Poseidon.  If Allah himself comes down, that is who He will have to fight.
And his Leviathan, Cetus." They know that word, they are sailors, all have
heard of the Leviathan of Arxepelagos.  They tell of Yunis, and his life,
within the beast.  Swallowing ships, whole.  "He holds the key to the
Cetus' cage, and the chain at It's tail."

   Finally, the Sufis eyes, wide with fear, he spat, and warded with both
hands.  "Blasphemy!"

   "There are Gods, far older than Allah, and these are their waters.  One
aids her hand, and the other she can call.  That is why Allah watches.  He
does not want this fight, not for 1 vessel.  You are proud," Kabria, "Allah
does not give a fuck about us.  If we are damned, we are damned, but not
because of us.  She told me, the Christos God," he spat again, "And the
righteous god have taken the people of the Old Gods.  The Greeks, we took
Morea, Pelopos, and the the Venizzi Krete.  We are the invaders, the
rapers, and killers of their people.  Genocide."

   "I do not know that word."

   "Kill the men, rape the women, burn the fields, and build over the
ashes. As we have done, for Allah.  We are not the righteous here.  We are
their demons, their Djinn.  Allah and Xristos their Devil, and demon
prince." Respectively.  "Do not forget that, as long as you are here.  One
man's heaven is another man's hell.  And these are not our seas."

   I turned, and went down, pulled my knife to trim a tip on the Hystriks
(Porcupine) pen.  Unstopped the purple snail ink, and found a place to sit,
under 2 torches to write what I have learned...

   ;

   Accounts {No sex, this is basically assembled from witnesses of Her
fight with the crew of Aziz's ship, after he barricaded himself inside.}

   The Latani had the best view, guarding the rear castle, rudders, and aft
mast.  They had also seen her in battle, but admitted she outdid herself
this time.  Stood between oarsmen, to wet her lash over the side, hanging
from the pommel of the long stock.  She said {From the account of an
Oarsman} "I hear there is talk of mutiny." He pulled a knife, so she
wrapped her leg around his arm, and threw him overboard, then the wet lash
slopped over the side, but she swung it 2 handed, "Like a boarding axe," or
short hammer to sweep the other three back.

   To the lane between the oars, the men got up, leaving them to stop,
floating out of sight of land.  Some took up oars, and had them taken away.
Then she threw the handle, catching the wet lash to swing it "Like a flying
mace," and sweeping the legs to topple the ones in front.  Before they
could muster a pike line, as "The flying mace" returned to her, she drew
the longsword {Estoc} in the other hand, and lashed out to drive the men
back like lightning strikes, parrying their oar swipes, and pokes with the
sword, and picking them from their hands like a snake picking weeds.

   They retreated to the foredeck, or as many could crowd up there, the
others backed to the ladders.  They crossed oars, defensively in front of
them, so all the front rank could grasp them defensively.  She threw the
flying mace back, and brought it over to splinter one of the handles in a
downward smash that dented the top of the keel-beam.  (Pointed out by one
of the oarsmen.) Then through the lash to wrap around the other handle, the
broken one taken up on both ends, closing with her thigh sword {Sidearm,
cut down from a Spada de Lato} to parry with both hands as the men drew
sidearms, and picked up Boarding Axes from the rack under the foredeck.

   The melee, predictably was difficult to follow, from all the
descriptions, one man was tip-slapped deeply enough to leave the imprint on
his cheek, and crack his grinding teeth, then fell to the deck unconscious.
Many others were struck down by pommel blows, knees, elbows, kicked or
thrown overboard.  The whole oar was useless, wrapped up to the weight
until they could unwind it, and then she wrapped her leg in to spin, and
swing it, striking down another who later died with a broken skull.  Many
where whipped with the narrow edgeless blade, and the ones in back pulled
up the ladder to hold across the landing of the foredeck.

   The Latani moved forward, just to the mainmast with their shields to
defend it, as men climbed back aboard from being cast off.  At last she
threw her sidesword, over the men above, blind, she could not possibly see
the prow through them, and yet it stabbed in to stick fast.  Then, took up
her whip to rain down mace-blows, screaming for them to submit, and
surrender.  Most of them, that were yet conscious dove overboard.  She
dropped to her knee, beating the deck with the stock until the heavy leaden
bead slipped down, and pulled the lash through.  To throw overboard, where
it floated, and pull men back.  Then ordered the remaining whole oars
brought back in from the sea...

   ;

   Kapsali

   She took me ashore, with the Phoenexean purple linen, and other
tradegoods, we had bought on Kythera in the first place.  "Talk to the
merchants."

   "These will sell at a loss, here." Buy where it's cheap, sell where it
is valuable, "We were to sell them at Xania."

   "I guessed, but your father was the merchant?" She would always whip me
with that shame.  My fathers, being killed by a woman.  "You know them? 
The Morean ones, ask them what is news.  I don't care about money, but we
will need supplies."

   "Yes, Kappa." I came back, but the cloth, let me appear as a merchant,
they asked after my father.  I cried, "Killed at sea," told them no more
for fear it would reach their ears.  "Have you heard anything from the
Mainland?"

   "Great news, a fleet passed the strait of Kythera, led by Oroos
{Barbarosa Reis the First, of Lesbos.  Which would make this the summer of
1499, turn of the 15th century.} Himself." Basically Kaliph of the
Corsairs, Khan of the Barbary Armada.

   "How large a fleet?"

   "They passed north, but from what I heard, 175 , a score of Galleon with
Cannon." {Also, hystorically, the start of modern Renaissance naval
warfare. The first major battle with full Gunships versus Gunships.  In
case you don't want to look that all up, the final blow to push the
Venizians from Morea, to fall back to Dalmatia.}

   "Thank you," she kissed my brow, and pushed something in my hands. 
Something heavy, a velvet bag, deeply inked purple with a linen lining, and
gold drawstring.

   "Gold," I needn't open it.

   "All the gold." She snapped her fingers, and I was surrounded by
Venetian bodyguards.  She switched to Latin, "Guard him with your life, My
financier." She patted both of my buttocks, "Now, put in supplies, we sail
for Pori with the morningtide."

   She turned to the Oarsman, clapped loud, made winding motions over the
linens, and directed them to load them back on the ship.  I looked back,
she nodded, turned away.  Swords sheathed, whip wrapped opposite the figure
8 belt across her hip, holding the purple velvet of her doublet down
between the bound swells of her chest.

   She clapped, "sıērama Eğer maymunlar üzerinde!" She barked.

   No idea where she heard that phrase, I never had.  {~R.  A.  Heinlein.}

   "Ubi est Pilos?"

   "Uh?" I rubbed my eyes, remembered.  The map of Morea, last I saw one,
the Latin held ports, "Navarrino?"

   "Sapienza," he nodded.

   "You are Venixi, you will not warn your people of the attack."

   She laughed, "We are Pori, now."

   "Petra de Pori?"

   "Classis dePori." He nodded, "We follow Her to the gates of hell."

   "I thought the Navy was of Kythera."

   "It was," he shook his head.  "Your, Reix de Barbarrosa, he will be
back. We Grecco, already flee to Antekythera.  Moria di Pelapoenezzia is
lost." Their Latin is already sounding Greek, like her strange mixed Greek.
"And I am DiKretani.  They Romanesqi, and Fiorenzi.  Those Saardini, and
Sysceeli." He pointed around my escort.  "We were never Venizzi."

   "You are Greek?" He speaks Latin.

   "Yes," changing language, he lowered his voice, and held up his hand
around the Latini.  "Cretan, Parastates di Philetor." He sighed, "mi
Philetor was Venizzi.  De Medixi."

   I nodded, thinking.  "The map is changing with the century, again, as it
always does.  The madmen always claim the world is coming to an end, but it
always is, for someone."

   He laughed, "I like you, Peztous." Clapped my shoulder so I winced and
turned away.  He laughed some more, "Not like that, you are too young, I am
no Paedorasto.  But you will be a great man some day."

   "And what is your name?"

   "Giancarlo," he offered his hand, "Maestro de Arma di Pori, at your
command."

   "At her command."

   "She trusts you," he shrugged, pouted his lips, "So we trust you," and
nodded.

   Pori

   Karlo, as Giancarlo preferred to be called.  Giancarlo di Pori, by
marriage, to the Matriarch di Pori, part of her harem, so co-husband in a
way.

   He disembarked at the low spit, we came in with the tide, and they rowed
around.  A weaponsmith, among other things, he had a workshop.  "Mi
Maestro, DaVinxi, he." Blushed.  Deeply tanned, but he looked away, so his
Philetor?  "Taught me, the Neomechani Engines." Which explained, the large
wheel.  Like a waterwheel, with oarsmen climbing inside and out to turn the
bellows, and trip-hammer.

   "What are these?" stacked, looked like bent sheets of steel, with braces
on the back.

   "Hand to me," he snapped and waved it over, so I carried it to him. 
"Skuta de Kulverino," he picked up a staff with a lead pommel beaten in
like the stock of Nana de Pori's whip, only heavier.  And a massive
octagonal end with a hook on one side.  He dropped it in a slot in the
front of the Tower Shield.  That now I recognize from paintings of the
Roman Legion, the Skuta.  "The powder, and the shot go in here," the hole
in the end roughly the size of my fist, "Then, the match goes in the
charge-hole here." The curve of the bottom scraped, to turn in the gritty
sand of the shop floor.  "For island defense, or advancing on the beach, if
we were a conquering army."

   "What kind of army are you?"

   "Defensive fleet, and Pirates.  To protect the Kitherras from the
Morianos, and the Venizi, as well as plunders ships, and crews to and from
the Ionian Maria."

   "So you need these, if the island is attacked?" At high tide, when you
can actually land on it.

   "Yes," he dismounted the pyrostaff, like a greatmace, you don't want to
be hit with one either, even in armor.  "On ship, the rowers, and the
riggers can just hook to the Rail, and fire before closing to the melee."

   "The what?"

   "The," he pushed his fingers together, "Boarding, where everyone is
fighting everyone.  First di Arbelesti for the grapples to the rigging, the
Riggers winch in, then the Culverinos fire a volley to break up their
lines."

   "I'm afraid I'm not much of a strategist," I've read some of them.  "I
know, tactician."

   "No cannon?"

   "The Cogs are bringing them, for the island, but the ships use
catapults, nets and bola for the rigging, and to capture crew.  Cannon
destroy ships, and sink them, we want the ships with little damage, and as
much crew as we can capture."

   "Like they did with my Galletino."

   "Yes," they are all Her ships, but the recently renamed Logoklopos is
mine, by birthright.  And marriage, I suppose.  She's the Admiral, I'm just
a merchant Kaptain.  "What?"

   "Huh!" I shook my head, "My father." Deep breath, "Promised her to me,
the Logoklopos.  He had no way of knowing he would meet his end, and I gain
her before I turn 13."

   "Is young, for Otemos?"

   Nod, "For anyone, not many 12 year old Kaputan."

   "Mi Kaputina," I shook my head, "Nana di Pori, she, do not know, how old
she is.  Her family, did no celibrate anniversari, but when I meet her, I
believe she was even yonger, when she take the Prima Theotokos."

   "Mother of god?"

   "Madre de Dios." He nodded, "Santa Maria da Nazzarini."

   "So, tell me about your master."

   "Da Vinxi?" I nodded, "A genius, you know Arxymedes?"

   "Read about him."

   "In Florence, they call him the modern Arxymedes.  He was, accused of a
crime there."

   "Pedorasto." The one he could only whisper about, around the Latini.

   "Homophilae, yes.  So, he fled to the island, where he heard is a
Tradition, no a crime."

   "And he was your lover."

   "Yes, my first love, and my mentor.  He has gone, back to di Medixi."

   "And you, do not carry on the tradition?"

   "Pedorasto touKretes?" He laughed, "No, I am not noble, I was born
poor."

   "Master of arms, for the soveriegn island of Pori," I reminded him,
"Most of the low nobles, the Dukati, Contini, and Marquesti come from the
Crusades."

   "Mi Maestro also taught me histori." he nodded.

   "This," I waved around the rock, "Is a Crusade.  The Allahdin of Moria
against the Catholicos of Venizzi?  Krete isn't Rome, and Moria isn't
Antolia, it's Greece.  The Allahdin vs the Xristanos, all over again.  You
are a crusader, married to the Queen of Pori, and Master of Arms.  On this
island, you are the closest to a Knight there is."

   "Jess," he rubbed his beard, "I had not, thought of this.  But if you
put it that way.  Besides, I could not ask your father."

   "Why" I turned away.  Choked up.  Of course, because he is dead.

   "Sorry, I misunderstand." He held my shoulders, in his hands.  "With the
language.  It is, hard to understand you, with your accent."

   "It's all right."

   The forge was hot, so he pulled something out, a wedge with a rope
through it to trip the hammers, and it got loud in there.  I felt like a
walk anyway, so I went up the hill to see the riggers work.  At the high
side of the wasp waist, between the rock, and the lower side, the cliffs
had more DaVinxi wheels to haul lines, and they were setting up Cranes.  On
A frames like Trebuchets, but with loops on the ends to hang pulleys, swing
back and forth with riggers hauling lines through the frames.

   The Maestro's work, no doubt.  I took out My notes, a quill, and my nib
knife.  A small copper phial of snail ink, an folded my legs to hold it
inside my knee.

   Below, the Tide brought in a Cog, the other turning, and anchoring
broadside.  The riggers called, sand, heaved, and hoed.  Swinging out the
cranes, and catching lines launched up by Catapults.  Then, the Oarsmen
climbed in the wheels, on the outside, to start winching up cables.

   With Cannon...

   ;

   Phylatori {Mm Pedorasto}

   I heard, before I looked down, saw the Porters (Former rank Oarsmen)
dismount the wheel, and open the side to let the others out.  No doubt on
command of the Master, engineer wrapping up in his workshop.  So I folded
up my notebook, stoppered, and fastened my inkphial, and walked down to see
what new wonders he cranked out today.  The Theotokus was out, with the
fleet, only the Galley Barge anchored and moored in the Marina.

   "Whatcha workin on?" I came in excited to see him bent over the
tempering tank, still steaming, he pulled the bib from his apron off from
the neck strings, and reached for a shirt.

   He showed me, like the tongs, a glow fading from the rivet pinning the
blades together.  Only knives.

   "Your hair," he felt it, grown out over my ears, and jaw.  He made that
pouting face, I could never decipher, but have started to really
appreciate. {He totally makes the "Smolder" face from Tangled.} I think
it's just confused thoughtfulness, it usually precedes an idea.

   "What's wrong with it?" I felt the other side.

   "It is getting long.  The wind beats it, where you sit drawing, and
writing on the cliffs." He turned, "Here, let us take the damage off,
before it runs too high." He pinched it, with his fingers, drew it out to
the splits, and snarls.  "Hold still." I closed my eyes.

   KRHK!  He dropped it, and some fell on my shoulder.  My arms were
tanned, it was hot on the island, and I thought of the Pennants.  With the
moon, and an added Star, seen around Kythera, and growing closer to our
fleet, patrols.  Barbarosa was not back yet, in force, but they would at
least go back by Kythera, for Karamursel, most likely.  Reports come, of
the fighting, with the Venizzi over the Ionian coast and islands, but with
the force they sent, most agree they would go to the Ottomans.

   He took a moment, to run the bladed over the spinning stone, flipping it
to grind sparks from the other edge.  I looked, brushed the itching hair
from my shoulder, and picking the rest from the drying sweat.

   "Here," he came back, around behind me, and pinched out another lock, on
the other side.

   KRHK

   "Hh," was I holding my breath?  "Hhhhuh!"

   "Is ohay?" I felt it.

   "Is that done?"

   "No, but you seem concerned."

   "I'm just," shrug, "Thinking about our position." And worrying.  Most of
our "Fleet' were fishing boats, and Galleys, with some Galleniti, but the
same reports also attest to the effectiveness of the new Gunships. 
Described as "A fortress, bristling with guns." I had not even seen
drawings, but in my minds eye, all the descriptions I can get were like a
Trimarine, only instead of with tiers of oars, there are tiers of Gunners,
with cannons, and gun-ports.  I shivered.

   I am a coward, I know this.  Our wife can do the fighting for me, I hear
from the maestro himself He can't beat her in a duel, and then there's the
battle I heard through the barred cabin of her spanking 32 men, Oarsmen,
good strong Turkish men with the flats of her swords, And her whip, in 2
hands.  So, I feel safe, when she's not away, at sea, patrolling, and
getting more ships we desperately need.

   KRHK!  "You are not cold," He pushes back my hair, and flattens his hand
over my sweating brow.

   "No," the forge had barely started to cool.  "Uhm, could we go out,
where there is more light?"

   "Of course," he smiles, "Very good idea."

   I blink in the late sunlight, "Over here," walk around to the east side
for the shade.  "Do you think you could cut," o7 I hold up my hand over my
eyebrows "Up here?  To get the hair out of my eyes," yet leave enough to
shade them from the sun.  I close them, and he puts his finger under my
chin, holds it up.  KRHK!

   "Huh, Phwh!" Blow it off my nose, and he wipes the rest off.  "Here," he
goes back, comes out with a bucket, and a rag from the tempering tank.  He
sets it down, and washes my face a moment until I take it, then, Hold his
hands, looking up.  "Hm."

   "Hm?"

   My voice cracked, "Ian?" {Incidentally, in middle Latin, especially
Venitian/Cretan Latin, JianKarlo is spelled with an Iota.} He nods, looks
confused, and I wait for him, to pout, thinking.  I know the stereotypes
about Cretans, he is not stupid.  And yet, he is not against, well any
kind, of love.  "Hh, thank you." I look down, my face hot, and let his
hands go.  Pick up the bib from his apron to dry it.

   He untied his apron, but did not put on the shirt.  Maybe he just
intended to take it back, from this morning, for a clean on on his ship. 
But the water in the bucket had stilled.  On dry land, so flat I could make
out my head, against the blue of the clear evening sky, and the shape of my
hair.  I hugged him, his sweaty sides, and back, my now bare cheek against
the hairs on his chest, and my hair in his neck.  "Your welcome." he patted
my shoulder, and rested his chin on my head.

   I looked up, thinking not for the first time he should just kiss me. 
"You are, a beautiful man, 'Karlo." He turned, but his face heated.  "It's
true, even our wife calls you "The most beautiful man of all the Kretes."

   He laughed, walked back toward his shop.  "She does not know, all the
men on Krete." Well, at the time.  There are many beautiful men on Krete,
but when she dictated that part of Herstory.

   "Well, you are, the most beautiful on Pori." and I love you.

   He has to laugh this time, "It is, a very small island." He nodded. 
"And you too are beautiful."

   I grabbed his waist, from behind.  His behind in my panting midriff.  "I
love you, Karlo."

   He sighed, against my arms.  "I know," he pulled them from his waist,
and held one.  "You know, typically it is the man, who seduces the boy in
these relationships."

   "I don't care!" I hugged him again, but I felt his love for me.  Rising
against my chest.  He grunted, felt between us to move it upward.

   "Neither do I," he laughed, pulled my chin up.  "You know, nothing is
traditional here." At last, he bent to kiss me.  In his shop, the forge
barely cooled, you could bake bread in there, but my hands felt around his
hips.  To the simple thong tied around the top, and struggled with the
knot.

   "Hh," he moved my hands.  "I think, we should go somewhere cooler."

   "Where?"

   "Your place," he looked up, through the wall, and pointed with his lips.
"At the cliffs, where all can see."

   "The Theotokus?"

   "No," he held my fresh cut hair to his chest.  "Our love."

   "I'm sure our wife will understand." I turned to kiss the hair on his
chest.

   "She is, sailing with her ship of whores." How she's so successful,
converting recruits.  Most navies do not sail with women aboard.  "She
knows, that men become lonely, when left alone." He took my hand, so I just
nodded.

   Then, he led me by it up to the cliffs.  The sun was low, and looking
out over the water, we could watch it set.  His pants loosened, but he sat
down, pulled my hips to sit between his legs.  I felt them, his strength
through the thick leather.  Stippled with burns, like freckles from the
sparks thrown from his hammer.  His arms, good the roped pulling in them,
across my shoulders.  Holding me, he kissed the swirl of my hair, and took
a deep breath through his nose.  "Mi master, I was very young.  He was,
overcome with lust."

   "He did not rape you?"

   "No," his whiskers moved back and forth through my hair, "I gave myself,
willingly.  But I was, too young.  This is why I hesitate.  I love you,
Aziz." My heart grew enough to swell my chest!  "I do not wish to hurt
you."

   "Karlo," Yes?  "I wish, sometimes.  I was a girl, instead of a boy."

   "Why?"

   "So that, you could make me your wife."

   "We are husbands.  Both men of Pori." She makes all men Hers.

   "Yes, but." how should I say this?  "I wish, I could bear your child."

   "Hm," he kissed the swirl again, and I felt his tongue.  It didn't
tickle, but still made me giggle.  "That was not ment to be." He shrugged
behind me, "But if you say you are ready, you are ready."

   The sun faded, melting into the Ionian, as if to sizzle, and temper it.
I imagined it boiling around it, a great cloud of steam rising, and carried
it to us on the wind.  "Hhin!" I closed my eyes, and felt it.  We are in
love, we have proclaimed it.  We do not need a child to prove it, it was
silly, childish of me to wish it.  But we said it.  Finally I told him how
I feel, and he returned it.  It was the best feeling of my life.

   "It was, not easy.  After, our wife took me." I nodded, "But yes, I
believe I am ready." He let me do, to turn.  In the fading twilight, the
riggers fetching a torch to run it up, and light the fires.  The lights to
keep working on the wheels.  And also as a Pharos, to warn ships of the
Rock.  The fleet that protects us.  I felt safe, safer then with him than
ever with my captor.  We are captive of her, but we don't have to suffer it
alone.

   "Here," he undid the knot for me.  Finally, I could taste his sweat. 
Feel his love for me, thick in my hand.  Fully tempered, the loose skin in
my lips.  Slipping back.  His hands in my hair.  "Aziz."

   I nodded, "Mhm?"

   "Oh, Aziz." He gave me what I always wanted, and I drank it, greedily.

   "Ghlk!" I wiped my mouth.  "When there is light," his eyes sparkled in
the lights of the fires, "I would love to draw you." He nodded, his eyes
closed, and he winced, but he nodded.  "Your Maestro?"

   "Yes, I was his model."

   "Okay, you don't have to pose for me." I have a good memory, "But I must
see you.  All of you."

   "And you?" He felt down, between us.  My love for him in return.

   "Yes," I felt his hand, "Oh yes, Karlo!" I kissed him, and held his hand
between my legs.  "Uh!?" I had to stop, to gasp for breath.  I imagined
this so many times, but imagined it, lasting longer.

   ;

   "Nana" {b-t Trans Fant}

   He walked up from the workshop, in the fading light.  The breeze
carrying away the heat of the day, and our children off with their mother.
His son learning to fight, my daughter with the whores that could wetnurse.
This is how she converts so many crews, from so many faiths, who do not
carry women with them to sea.  Their traditions, but by their traditions
men do not follow a woman, and women do not keep a Harem.  The only times
she was faithful was to us.  First him, then me, to make sure her children
was ours, but when she returned, she gave out love Her blessing.  She
knows, that when the women are away, the men become lonely.

   My writings, and drawings for the day put away, he comes to me, holds
me, kisses down to me, and feels my belly.  My chest, fat with his child.
At last, I had grown, old enough to be his, for him to give me his love,
for me to carry his child.  At last, he made me his wife.

   ;

   Peztous {t/M Anal...}

   "Hh?"

   In bed, it's dark, but I feel his breath in my hair.  His arms holding
me, his love has risen behind me.  I feel his arms first, the slack lines
in them, his hand cupping my shoulder, and move.  Twist so that his love
splits me.  Then back to press him in between.  "Hh!"

   "Hm?" His hand tightens, the ropes pulling in his arm, and he feels it.
Once again, his love fades.

   "Huh!" I get up, feeling for the knife, and stone.  CHK!  See the wick,
and strike more on it.  CHK CHK!

   "I am sorry."

   "Whhhhh!" Blow the spark that stuck to an ember, then a flame.  I look
back, step aside, and let my shadow move away from him.

   "You are still too young." It's been 2 years!

   The same old fight, "No," finally, I call him on his lie, "You were too
young, so your master hurt you." Why he wont even pose for me, as a model.
I have to draw him from memory.  Because his master still haunts us.

   He closed his eyes, but his hair, like the timbers of a wreck made his
face all the more beautiful.  He reached up to pull out the point of his
beard.

   "I do not want to hurt you, I love you."

   I sat down, "If you love me, then why don't you give me what I need?"

   "I cannot," He rubs my back, but not low enough.  "My flesh."

   It is tradition, for Kretes.  The man does not take the boy, the way I
need him.  Inside me, he takes me from behind, but his love is wasted to
run down my thighs.  I have to scoop it up, with my fingers to put it
inside me, and that's close.  It has been enough, but I have waited long
enough.  For him, to make me his wife.

   I shake my head, "Then give me your thumb." I feel his hand, pinch it to
pull with my fingers, "Smrq," holding my love, and purse tight between my
legs.  "It is strong enough, it does not go weak." I'm tired, of twisting
back, to push his love inside me.

   "It is unclean."

   "You have done it!" With my wife, "You have kissed her unclean well, and
you tell me it is unclean."

   "Aneal,"

   "No!" Gods damn it, "I'm tired of tempering myself for you.  We are
husbands, and I have needs."

   "Don't cry;"

   "You see tears?  I am Not crying!  Why do you not listen to me?" She
came back, long enough to give orders, load and unload supplies, but she
gave her blessing.  I told her, the trouble we're having.  "Oh!" I smack my
head, "She told me," and shook it.  "Hh, she said, I 'ask too much'." I sat
down.

   "You do," he rubbed my shoulders.

   I laughed, "Yes, but she does not mean I am too demanding.  You know
her, longer than me.  She does not ask, is that what she means?  No, she
means I am not demanding enough!"

   "Aziz?"

   "No," the first thing she said to me.  "Peztous." I finally, know what
it means.  "My name is Peztous, Tell them!  You, I am not asking you, now.
Make me your wife, tonight." Or lose me forever, "You think there are not
men, who will give me their love?  Here, may be, but there are men on
Theotokus, with the Whores because some men enjoy Androphili, and
Paederasti.  If I am man enough for you, I Will find one who I am."

   His eyes, look beautiful, so wide.  "You would do this?"

   "I will, if I do not get what I want, tonight, I will leave you when
Theotokus returns." Maybe see my daughter and his son, be with my wife
again.  "I love you, it would break my heart too, but I need this." I
kissed him, "My husband.  I need you, your love, inside me."

   His eyes relaxed, and he looked down.  He pouted, smoldering {Yes,
straight out of Tangled} "Yes," he nodded, "I will do this for you."

   "Move back," I lay down, "Kiss me first."

   "Yes," on my back, "My," the bones, "Wife." Down them, one by one,
lower, and lower, until;

   'hihH!" I felt his beard.  His hands, thumbs rubbing up my thighs, Then,
splitting me open from above, and below, the point of his beard as a wedge,
his thumbs gripping me into his hands and fingers.  I held my head up, to
breathe.  The resin from the juniper straw sucked through the wool still
clinging in my nose, I moaned, feeling his cheeks, his whiskers, his lips,
his tongue.  "HohoH Oh!"

   "Smp!" My unclean well kissed back, then he split me, his whiskers
pulled back.  "SPWH!"

   "Uhn!" I clenched, but he held fast.  It ran down, like his love between
my thighs.  When he took me before, in the traditional way.  For the
Kretes, but this is not Krete.  His master was of Phiorenzzi, Vinxi.  He
did not know, so when his lust overcame him, he hurt him.  My husband, My
Karlo, My love.

   "You are ready?" I bit, into the wool, but nodded.  His thumb slipped
out, but his other.  Pushed in, rubbing around.

   "MH!" I clenched, and puckered, but then forced myself to relax. 
"Snhhh!" The juniper rezin filled my nose, but the breath caught. 
"NHRMMMMM!"

   "It hurts you," he mover to withdraw.

   "MRh!" I shook it in my teeth, "NO!  don't stop.  Ngh!" Licked drool
from my lip, "Deeper UGH!" My head fell.  "MHR!" I bit the wool again,
ground the needles between my teeth.  "YRGHZ!" Rocked my hips, and I felt,
a pearl.  Still soft, my love pulled back like a scared tortoise, but I
still felt it.  A pearl, rolling down, wetting inside my skin.  "Hhmn!" I
kept rocking, to feel it swing in me, "Hmhmhmhm!" As fast as I could, until
my love rose, and I was pushing it into the wool.  Uahn!" I had to hold my
head up.  "AUGHHHH!" I couldn't help clenching, grasping at his thumb, my
love wasted into the wool, and the exposed pommel, rubbing raw into it
until it was wet.  Slimy.  "INGH!" I slammed shut, and collapsed satisfied.
"Huh, ih ih ih ihn!" Panting, turning my head for air.  But he was feeling
me.  My legs, my bottom, my back.  Kissing my neck until at last it was
over.

   "Hhhh!" His breath in my ear, "SMQ!" So loud, "Are you satisfied?"
Finally I could move, roll over to grab his face, and kiss him
passionately. There were no words to thank him, I could only show him.

   "Thank you!" finally, breathlessly.

   "My wife," he bent to kiss my belly.  Well fed, if I cannot carry his
child, at least I could appear, as his wife.  My navel, my nipples, all
over the front of me, until his love rose.  So I could kiss him, suckle
him, and taste his love again.

   It was the best night of my life.

   .

   ,

   Marino {m\F Bers NS Trigger Warnings: Mother-son Incest, and violence.
Lots and lots of violence, to start:}

   Inevitably the Morean Ottomans came.  They must have heard, returning
from the battle of Navarrino.  Victoreus, we heard later that they stopped
by Kythera, or a part of their fleet.  Even with casualties, it was too
massive for any one port, but there they heard of the Greek Pyretes
{"Pi`rheetees"} and dispatched a Gunship to investigate.  I spotted them
first, having the best steadiest eyes, and sent for Minana in her pile of
whores to confirm it.  She came up to the foredeck, where my scope was
mounted to the rails, and watched only long enough to nod.  Turning it to
rest her chin sideways, she gulped, and watched the horizon until her
viscera calmed.  She never could stand the glass for long, her legs are
steady, but the glass is not.

   "Yes," she stood up, "I believe that must be a Galleon." With the red
pennant, Star and Crescent in gold of the Ottoman navy.  "Command the
riggers, I'll take the wheel." She kissed my forehead, "ALL MEN!  Batten in
the women, and prepare to ram them, and board!"

   "We will be destroyed!" New men.

   "YES," she turned to point, "BUT THAT IS THE THEOTOKOS, NOW.  PREPARE TO
TAKE ME TO MY SHIP!"

   "Riggers?" I called them up while She made her way back to the rudder
wheel, "Full sail, put the wind behind us.  You, you, you, and you.  I want
you to belay the fore sheet, and the beam.  Stand at the pins, and await my
signal to release them."

   "BEND TO THE OARS!" Even clear across the ship, the wind carried Her
voice.  The rest of the fleet retreated, we cannot afford to lose any more
of them, even to gain a Galleon.  I went to the rigging locker, pulled a
Delta net, a Bolo, and a leader line to prepare, belayed the grips of my
swords, and slipped the ropes over my arms.  The top corner weight heavy on
my back, I threw the center of the bola over it, crossed it over my chest,
and behind me overhand, to belt it down like a vest.  Then, the
double-leader, like the Bola only longer, a shot spliced in both ends.  I
threw it over the beam, and let it swing down, playing it out to cancel the
swing until I could catch it.  Clutching the pommel between my legs, I
pulled, and winched myself up to the beam.

   Looking back, Minana tied down the wheel, then looked up.  Raising her
hands to shade her eyes, and look at me up on my perch.  Not ever day I
have a chance to impress her, but every moment, waking, or dreaming, I have
been thinking about strategies, and especially boarding tactics.  She loves
surprises, from me.  "Looking back, I gripped the beam to call down,
"Engineers, ready!?" At the crane/catapult, the leader of the team looked
back, waved that he had converted the engine.  "Range!" I looked up, down,
gauged the waves, and the pitch of the deck.  "Riggers ready!" They took up
their lines, pulled between the legs of the frame, and we pitched back.  I
raised my arms, cresting the top of their wake, I waited for us to pitch
down, and dropped them.

   'pull' Down on deck, the riggers ran back, yanking the short arm, and
swinging the long one.  Loaded with a chain Bola, the first swung over, for
the second to release, and it tumbled out, higher and higher before
cresting, and tumbling smaller, end over end down, directly into their
rigging.  'reloaded!' I looked down, then back up at the galley.  It
straitened, rear mainsail buckling and splitting.  The sails before it
rippling and fluttering from the spoiled wind, it yawed back.  Coming
about, without the wind to heel it on it's keel mid tack, it stood up, and
the sails capsized back, to fall slack.  Then caught the wind again,
pitching the other way, but we gained, and caught another wave of their
wake.

   "Ready!" I raised my arm just in time to pith forward, and dropped it
immediately.

   'pull!' WhHhwW!  Another balls and chain tumbled out for their rigging.
I held fast, "Belayers ready!?" It came around, and they held to their pins
in the pitching rail.  "BRACE YOURSELVES, AND"...  "RELEASE!"

   Right before we rammed, the front sail dropped, and I held on, the beam
bounced up, then the line holding it against the wind fell, right before
the prow struck, the center of their broadside, they heeled up, and a storm
of smoke burst out.  High, mostly over the deck, but they held it too long,
then I was swinging out.  Forward, over the splintered prow, and the side
rail of their mid ships.  Already hanging underneath, I let my legs go
first, to drop merely a handful of feet, to roll, get my leg under me, then
a knee, then up in a kneel.  Arms behind me, holding the knotted shot in
the ends of the bola.  I threw one up, turning to bring it around, down,
back up, and over.  Twisting my head back to see shields coming together to
protect the wheel.

   "No, mother.  I'll take the wheel."

   WhHw!  It came down, over their shield coming up, wrapped over a
shoulder, and I felt it jerk.  Tight.  With enough force to knock a blocker
forward, stumbling, falling over his shield with a broken back.  The pommel
in my hands fell to the deck with a thud, and I continued my spin, slipping
the net off one arm, down the other as it came around, catching it, then
releasing it to spin out, and over the remaining defenders.

   "AQUEBUSSIERS!" Fuck,

   I dove aside,

   "Aim," almost back to the deck, my pommel straps swung free,

   "And..."

   Hitting hands first, I caught the blades on my forearms, and rolled,

   "Fire!"

   To a knee, my foot, pivoting to my heel, toe and turning to the slowly
spreading cloud of gunsmoke.  The flames picking out the black balls, and
wads bursting out like nets,

   SPANG!  Twist over another, and slap my other blade overhand, SPAK! 
jump, and kick over of the rest of the volley,

   WHZHZHZ!  they pucked into the wall of the rear cabin behind me like
hail, and I came back down in a crouch.

   "Reload!" The shields advanced to block for them, so I dove back to my
bolo, sheathing my blades, rolled over to grab it, and came up swinging to
sweep for their legs,

   "UH!" I got one, jerked him out of line, and want down, skidding low
across the deck, and hauling myself in before they could completely close
ranks.

   'hrRAAGH!"

   Then mother got a ride from the fore catapult crew, and flew over the
rail to steal the show.  Great timing, I just got a leg lock, and planted
my tips in the deck to throw him into the one next to him.

   "HRAUG!"

   "AIGH!"

   "KUGH!" An aquebussier flew backwards over me, tumbling, his gun flying
off another way, and my daggers wrenched out of the deck before I got to my
feet.

   CHK!  Right under the lobstertail of a helmet, and another fell dead
over his shield.  CSH!  I gashed a sword arm while the gunners turned, and
fell back from the ship side to aim for the BERZERKER.

   Nemesis Berserker, unleashing the wrath of God for invading and
occupying Pelaponesia.  "HARH!" I caught a glimpse of her as a swinging
body swept another shield away.  Then the world erupted in thunder and
smoke, blinding and deafening everyone a moment.

   I went down, face up to cover anything that appeared from the maisma
with kicks, and tip slashes.  Just on reaktions, I heel kicked and crab
scrabbled back along the deck to disengage, but they were broken, the
boarders had plenty of time to climb up, and assemble while the enemy tried
to regroup.  I crawled, through the growing field of dead, unconscious and
screaming men to my boarders, then realized what was missing.

   Her Voice.  I did not hear Her.  In the midst of battle, there's 2 ways
to silence her:

   Everyone dead, while the battle was still raging.

   Or, she's knocked out.

   "Hh," I thought.  She missed most of my performance, after the opening
trick to get aboard first.  Then, the smoke and bedlam cleared enough to
see I was wrong.

   I found her, laying in a growing pond of blood, bodies all around her,
perforated with shot.

   We gained a ship, but we lost our Matronarch.

   "Minana!" I held her head, and wept for the first time in my life.

   ;

   {CHAOS} Titan/Demigod NS

   Huh!  She had a good run.  The problem with relying on cybernetic
reflexes it that when they're gone, you don't realize that you can no
longer dodge, and parry a volley of shot.  Amazing how long she survived,
15 years since I left Her at birth.  Even as my host cried himself to
sleep, I mourned for Her too.

   Goodnight, my Champion, my Berserker, my Nemesis.  Say hi to Nyx for me.


   {Marino.} Yes?  {You wear the pants in the family, now.  I don't have to
tell you, those are some pretty big britches to fill.}

   Mother?

   {In a manner of speaking, I am the spirit that gave her her power.}

   Nemesis?

   {Chaos.}

   Great-grandfather, I am honored.

   {Yeah yeah, skip the formalities.  I'm just stopping by to take her back
to the stars.  Unfortunately, the light from Casseopia won't reach us until
1572.}

   What?

   {It takes a while for someone to return to the stars.  You will live
long enough to see Her, but not until the Turks take Cyprus.} The 4th
Venetian/Ottoman war.

   That isn't for decades.

   {Sorry, you have any idea how immense the Galaxy is?  Oh, sorry about
the vertigo.}

   It is, Archepelagos.

   {Yes, the sea and your islands are only the dimmest reflection of the
Cosmos.  You'll probably never comprehend this, but here's the memories
from your mother.  Too bad you won't be able to pass them onto your
daughter, but I also bring a Prophecy.}

   Another?

   {Yes, from your mother.  Morianana?

   "One day, you will meet a woman, and She better be the meanest Bitch on
the seven seas!  She will bear you a daughter, you will name her Morion,
and after your sister, your daughter will inherit the fleet."}

   Yes mother, I promise.  {Sleep.}

   Huh, well that takes care of that.

   ;

   Marino {M+ Mele Berz.  Fs, Ms, Mass Bukk.}

   "Signor, your orders." Take up Her estoc, and wrap the lash of Her mace
around the other arm.

   "Skorpi." Bring it over as I turn, pick out 2 backs, and swing it down,
to smash backward through the shield line.  "POLIS!!" They reform, angling
back to the rail in a Delta.  "Nets up to the Aquebussiers!" On the rails
facing down from the fore, and aft decks.

   "HRRAAH!" Charge between their backs, Sword up cruciform to parry with
the handle, and block with the blade.  Then, thrust them vertical between
shields as my Skutes' step out to let me through.  2 Handed, Halberd style,
twist to hook 2 basket shields out, and turn, planting my foot to hook
behind one, lever it back, and rip it out.  Let go, and jerk the mace back
under their legs.  Tip smack a cheek plate forehand, and grip the lash end
for a spinning back hand downward to smash an exposed shoulder down to the
deck, breaking through almost to the rail.  Backing to it, my Skuti come
in, shields up sideways, two handed for a widening lane from rail to rail.
The riggers hauling back, diagonally to pull gunners down.  Kind of hard to
reload and aim in a tug of war with teams that haul rope for a living.

   Spotting the stairs, "Hruh!" Throw the mace overboard, and swing it back
over the rail to wrap around one, and hit the next from behind.  Jump to
the rail, "HRAUGH!" then back inboard over the shoulder of the Skuti. 
Catching my pommel overhand to stab downward, through a shield, then
release the ricasso to step over, pull it out of the armor, and drop a
knee. Swinging over hand to release, the blade flying up, tipping town as
it falls, and stabs straight through a raised shield, nailing through it to
strike down the defender like a javelin, and jerk the mace back up to my
hands to sweep the rest off, or retreating up the stairs.  "KUGH!" One
flies back, uppercut into another, step in and bring it around, down over
the other shoulder to bash the next overboard.  Grab the ricasso, and jerk
out the blade to pommel bash a shield up, and take another step.  Switch
over to the grip, and get the point around the edge of the shield as the
mace flies over, and bashes him onto it, turn and throw him off the blade,
sidestepping while the mace tumbles down after him, and one of my Skuti
dances back from it.

   Look over my shoulder, and swing the sword over 2 handed to punch a
quillion through the spiral basket of a shield, and rip it right off to
frizbee overboard, spinning to backhand with the unsharpened edge where the
shoulder meets the neck, and swat another down.  Release my secondary grip
on the blade, to hold the sword up, blade down my forearm, and catch my
mace.  "Who's Your Best Fighter!?" In my best Ozmond.  "Send me a champion
before I have to kill all of you!" Bat a javelin out of the air, and glance
back as it sticks in the deck below.  "Or surrender now."

   Over my shoulder, "Send up the women, with shields and whips!" They know
the Skorpi drill, 2 blockers out front, long reach up the middle, 6 legs
and a tail.  Already dressed out, they throw up their whips to be hauled
aboard, and take down their demiaspes.  So far, the most popular seems to
be Asteri Nyx.  A long stock, and lead with 3 iron double spikes through a
Monkey's fist, and more studding the splice back from that.  Raising them 2
handed, balanced by lead pommels, they advanced to rain blows over the
shields, between Skute's shoulders, and shields.  Backed by Culverinos to
hook over their shoulders as they are loaded for point-blank shots.  It's
an uphill battle, against superior numbers, but they can't organize with
nets being thrown over, and pulled by rigger teams trained by fishing in
their downtime.  That, and the height of the Galleon from the oardeck is no
higher than the cliffs at low tide, so we could practice
boarding/repelling.

   And we've fought lots and lots of Turks, this is just our first galleon.
Shield, and Pike, with intermittent volleys from Arquebus, when they can
actually to organize to fight like that.  They saw how I fared just with
the Flying Mace and Estoc, and all the women pouring aboard with Stars of
Nyx.  Someone ordered surrender.  Then, came the task of securing
belowdecks, assembling teams, and converting them.  It would be a long
night.

   Before I can mourn.

   "All right, you can either be beaten by My harem, or let them take care
of you.  Who still wants to fight for Ozmondes?" Look up, what hour is it?
Turn and point, "Byzanteon is that way, and it's a swim clear across
Arxhepelagos.  Either way, you might want to drop your shields, and take
off all that armor.  Ladies?  help the men.  That's right, get to know
eachother." Turn back, "All right, who's in command?"

   "I am," turban instead of helmet.

   "No, I am.  Order all the men to stand down."

   "Order your women to;"

   "They are not My women, they are Ours.  The nicer your men are, the
nicer the women will be.  It's their choice whether they feel the lash."

   "What is;"

   "This is My ship, are you staying, or are you taking a boat?  Since
you're Officers, you don't have to swim, but I need to replace my
casualties."

   "I do not surreh;"

   Flip back to the pommel, "Then, DIE!" SHNK!  "Who's next in Rank?"
Boring conversation any way.  "Call down to the Engineers to strip
Theotokos for timbers to patch Vestistes."

   "Signore?"

   "This ship, the Baptists, and bring me a flag of sailcloth.  NOW!" Still
soaked in Her blood, the lash made enough of a brush to paint on a crude
estoc vertical, with the mace crossed horizontal, and the lash curled
around.  "Raise it to the mainmast," switch to Ozmondes, "Men, you are now
deputized for the Navy of Pori."

   The women, already knowing the drill focus on the Riggers.  Helping them
out of the armor, "Ooh, this one looks strong!" Whips, Flails, and Scourges
passed back to their men, stripping down to the waist, and pulling rope
with kisses to wet them.  Backing to a circle jerk in the center to welcome
them to the team.  We need riggers to fix, and run the rigging, sails, and
mastlines.  Everyone else can swim, but those should get us back to Pori,
and the women love riggers.

   Weary, I went to open my cabin, and prepare it.

   For mourning.  "I want to be left alone." Tonight, I don't need any
company tonight.

   ;

   Pre-Morion {g-b Trans.  Nepi Solo/Mast.  Db Poss Cosm NS.  D is for
Demon.}

   "Hh?" I didn't remember, being an infant.  Euphra, our mother didn't,
much before the Rape of Pori, the Genocide when she was taken by the Gods.
For revenge, against the Crusades, and Jihadin.  The Venizi, and Antoledes.
The despots of Morea, and Krete.

   Then, I felt it.  For the first time, dressed only in an undercloth.  It
woke me, but my mother, and her nursemaid rolled over.  I was not hungry,
but I had to pee.  I could not, something held it back, but then I felt the
unfamiliar stiffness.  My tiny fat clumbsy fingers, I never struggled so
much with a knot in my previous life, but finally I got it open, to feel
what was wrong.

   I'm a boy?

   I'm a boy!

   I don't know why, but that filled me with such relief, it washed over me
like the rush of beating a new crew into submission.  "Hnh!" I had to
learn, to pull rope again, but every waking hour, whenever I had the
chance. The nursemaids, they commented on it.  "He loves his Pios!" Just
being called He was wonderful, and new!  They stopped me, but this was
Theotokos.  The whore-ship, how we were breeding a new generation of sea
Greeks.  Half the crew were women, all of them whores, and there were many
more children.  Like me, I was not even treated special, though everyone
knew who was my mother, of course.

   It was different, my hands were the other way, so the thumb pinched up
at the top, and the skin pulled tight without slipping over.  For years, I
remember finally forcing it down, then crying because it strangled, made
the head bulge, and even bruise before the doctor came, to split it.  Not
off, just a tiny slit in the bottom, so it came open.  Like the split in
the bottom, which I could now feel.  Now I could pull it back and forth,
like my mother had with men.  Riggers, she loves the riggers, but I
remember.  Even her brothers, and their cousins, on the a little boat rowed
away, or at night when she snuck over to their bed.  And her mother, with
their father, pregnant with her, but still loving, at night, while their
sons, and daughters, and nieces, and nephews slept.

   My hands were strong, rough from spinning, and twisting, and weaving and
splicing.  Tiny lines, knots, nets, leaders around pea sized shots, and
eyelet splices.  2 lines, one 3, and one double twist, the toughest to
splice end to end rather than bend in a temporary knot.  This was my first
training, as soon as my hands could grip it.  On the foredeck, she even set
up a small toy mast, and sail.  To practice Rigging.

   {Muscle memory.  You have the reflexes, but you need to wake them.  Make
them your own, adapt them to your new body.}

   That's Chaos, my Grandfather.  The Immortal Strangler, father of the
Titans, who fathered the old Gods.  Like my mother, Nemesis.  He was always
there, {But I prefer to lurk.} I also learned to pull my rope.  My
telltail, like the short hairs on the tops of sails, to see which way the
wind went.  Except mine told me when I was ready, to go off alone, and pull
it.  Until I felt it, it is not like a woman's lust rising, at all.  It is
too brief, and twitches outside, where I could feel it.  Eventually, I felt
a pearl.  Milked it out, and pulled it furiously, until more came.  The
first was clear, and greasy.  {Viscus} Then, a couple more, then 3, than 4.
White, like pearls, but not as hard.  They felt wet, and soaked into the
deck when I touched them.  And my fingertips, which I brought to my lips,
and tasted.  I was ready to become a man.

   Then, my mother died.  I should have, I shouldn't have shown off.  Gone
ahead, to break their lines, I should have followed her.  Stayed with her,
if I had I'm sure there would be some way to save her.

   {Not really.  You're young, and impetuous.  She was not immortal, in
body.  In mind, in spirit, she lives on in you, and your half-sister.  As
you, all 3 of you will in your children.  She lived, long past her time,
what happens when you peak at 15.  The brightest candle doesn't burn as
long, for it's brightness.  Like the stars, the oldest, and longest lived
are the smallest, and coolest.  They die as tiny bones, to cool slowly, and
eventually attract a crust, like the heart of Gaia.  The largest, they are
bright, and strong.  Like Zeus.}

   I can see them!

   {Yes, I can show you.  This was Zeus, see how He was so massive He
gathered smaller stars around him, ate most of them, as a planet collects
moons.  As Heleos holds the planets in her arms.} Helios is a woman?  {Of
course, she is the Mother.  You of all people should understand, but Zeus
was so mighty, he gathered a whole fleet.}

   "HUH!"

   {The Galaxy, of which you can only see one arm of in the night.  This is
Andromeda, His wife.  Or, she will be called that, centuries from now, but
he died, and for a moment was the brightest light in trillions of skies. 
Andromeda is 2, such remnants, I will call them Nyx, and Erebus.  The waves
of their dance collect their children in their arms, but this is Chronos.
The hole, left by the death of Zeus.} Zeus is dead?  He is Chronos' father?
{It depends, on how you see time.  When I shewed this, it was the light of
the Quazars, in my approach, and in reverse.  So, Plato wrote that Chronos
gave birth to Zeus.  Time is, too much for your mortal understanding.}

   Oh.

   {Yes, now sleep.  You have a big day tomorrow.}

   Why?

   {Your mother's funeral.}

   She was given back to Poseidon.  Weighed with chains, the fleet around
the galleon as the Gods, and Demigods, the stars and planets around
Chronos. Even the boats, like moons, and the whole fleet, the remnants of
Greece stood to wail to the heavens.

   Then, she spoke to me: "One day, you will meet a woman, and She better
be the meanest Bitch on the seven seas!  She will bear you a daughter.  You
will name her Morion, and after your sister, she will inherit the fleet."