Solomon's Stone

Chapter X.

One scimitar hit Nash on the flank, but was stopped by his money belt, and then a new front was opened up.

Figures popped out of the deckhouse of the second barge: women in baggy Turkish trousers and short bangled vests. They ran forward and leaped to the first barge. The leader, a splendid-looking blonde, snatched up a barge pole. While the others were doing likewise, she swung the pole with both hands against the ribs of one of the guards.

The guard went oof, teetered on the gunwhale, and grabbed his nearest fellow. Both tumbled overboard. The girl swung again, the muscles of her white arms standing out. Clank! The remaining guard's spiked helmet leaped from his head and spun into New York Bay, and the warrior followed it.

A shaven head appeared alongside the barge, and a swarthy arm reached for the gunwhale. Another girl chopped down on the arm with her pole.

The thump and splash were followed by a curdling shriek. The swimmer brought his legs up under him and pushed off from the boat with his feet. He swam out of reach, though a couple of the women took swipes at him. His partners joined him, wriggling out of their jelabs and coats and getting ducked with every wave.

The guard who had had his arm thumped shook a fist."Allah curse your—blub—house, you lousy—pfft—Frank! For this you shall be—gulp—most cruelly—gurgle—bumped off!"

All three turned away and struck out for Bayonne, swimming breast stroke like three large brown frogs.

"Well!" said Nash.

"Jean-Prospère!" exclaimed the tall blonde."Don't you know me?"

Even as Nash realized that this was unmistakably the astral body of Alice Woodson, she threw her arms around his neck and pressed on him a long kiss that turned his knee joints to water. She whispered in his ear: "Don't you remember?"

"Ahem... uh... sure," said Nash, yirning pink."How did you—"

"I thought I recognized you last night, and I hoped you'd manage something like this. How did you—"

"Went around to explain why I hadn't been to your party," replied Nash."I got a detective when I saw the mess, and he put me on Arslan Bey's track. But just a minute—we'll have to decide about these birds." He confronted the nearest of the slaves, who stood doubtfully at his oar.

The soulless one doubled himself up and touched his forehead. He mumbled: "There was talk of treachery, effendi. Who is the traitor, you or the guards? We must serve our lord the sultan—"

"The guards were the traitors, of course!" barked Nash."You don't suppose Allah would have let the fight come out that way otherwise?"

That explanation seemed to satisfy the slaves, who set their oars docilely in motion. The rest of the three hundred and sixty-five wives had meantime emerged from the holds in varying degrees of bundled-upness. They gave the animals a wide berth and crowded forward.

"Alicia," said Nash, "I want to talk to you about those—"

"Jean-Prospère, what's become of that cute French accent of yours?"

"Been going to a speech-improvement class. In fact I'd as lief be called plain Prosper."

"All right, Prospère—"

"Prosper."

"I'm cold," complained another of Arslan's wives.

"I don't wonder," said Nash, eying her bare feet and midriff."Hadn't you better get your—"

Alicia leaned overside and stuck a finger in the bay."It's much warmer in the water than out of it! I know what we need! Come on, girls!"

Before Nash could make up his mind to protest, the tall girl had thrown off her skimpy vest, stepped out of her trousers, and dived overboard. She came up spouting and laughing."It's wonderful! Won't somebody else come in? Aw, girls— Hey, Prosper!" With two strokes she reached the barge and made a pass at Nash's ankle. Nash skipped back out of reach."Come on, peel off and jump!"

"Not a nudist," grinned Nash, "and anyway I can't swim now."

"Why not? Don't tell me it's the wrong day of the—"

"Takes all the starch out of my whiskers."

She splashed water at him, dove again, and swam about."I know," she said."You cavaliers and Restoration bucks and such never do bathe. Think it's indecent to get wet all over. I met the young Marquis de la Forge last week, and he positively stank!"

"When you're ready, Alicia—"

"Oh, all right." She put her hands over the gunwhale, hoisted herself out, turned, and sat on the edge splashing with her feet.

Nash sighed."I hope nobody in St. George has a telescope. Who lives there, do you know?"

"It's called the condottieri town," explained Alicia."All Renaissance Italians. The other big Italian settlement, in upper Manhattan, is all Romans: baths, togas, and oratory. They're allied with the Aryans, I suppose you know, but these aren't. Now tell me what this is all about."

Nash told briefly the story of his visit to the sultan's palace, and added that when they landed, the harem could do as it individually or collectively pleased.

"Swell!" cried Alicia.

"I... uh... don't suppose you'll want to return to Arslan?"

"Good heavens, no! Me be satisfied with one three hundred and sixty-fifth of a husband? What'll we do with his money?"

"I've been wondering. I ought to get some sort of salvage fee out of it; thought I could let him know where he could pick up the rest, that it—"

"Salvage fee! Prosper, don't you know Arslan'll be out for your blood now whether you let him recover his loot or not? Why not be sensible and keep it all?"

"That would be stealing."

"He stole it in the first place, didn't he?"

"I suppose so, but I won't steal it in the second. Maybe I'm dumb, but that's how it is."

"Well, if you don't want it, I guess we girls can use it. I doubt if there's over half a million there anyway, counting the jewels. That won't look so big when it's split three hundred-odd ways."

Nash whistled."Gosh! I can just imagine parading through a town full of tough Renaissance Italians with half a million bucks and three hundred and sixty-five harem beauties. How far do you think we'll get?"

"Mm-m-m. Tell you what. Arslan undoubtedly loaded his full dress arms and armor aboard. Some of us girls used to be pretty athletic before Arslan caught us, and there ought to be enough gold-hiked swords and diamond-studded helmets to outfit a squad."

"Wouldn't it be better to arm the slaves?"

She lowered her voice."I wouldn't. They'll catch on to what we're up to eventually, and then there's no telling."

"Anyway," said Nash, "we'd better keep together for a while, don't you think? Those girls probably have homes all over, and between the condottieri here and the war in Manhattan they might have trouble reaching them alone."

"Right. It wouldn't do to pay them off at the dock and say 'run along, girls. '"

"O. K. Now suppose you put your clothes on?"

She complied; Nash politely turned his back, and got a playful kick in the pants for his pains.

"You," he said reproachfully, "are no lady!" But she was already gone, laughing.

Whew! So this child of nature was the astral body of his prim friend Alice! It looked as though he would have her as regular girl friend for the rest of his stay on this plane. His spine tingled at the thought; a stouter comrade and a more spectacular ornament he could hardly ask for. But she would not be the easiest person to handle; like trying to use Smiley as a lap dog.

"Here's your Amazon army, Prosper," said Alicia, as he turned at the sound of giggles.

The sultan had packed enough military equipment to outfit fourteen of them, and they had eked out his helmets and mail shirts with some of his gaudier pieces of civilian attire. The glittering result might have stepped off the stage of a Rimski-Korsakov opera.

She explained: "Only six of the girls wanted to go back to Arslan. Some of the others thought they did, but changed their minds when I told them we were going to divide up his money. Most of the others have real husbands and lovers to return to."

"Will those six make any trouble?"

"I persuaded them not to," She looked thoughtfully at a barked knuckle.

"How much stuff will we have to carry?"

"There are about twenty chests. We emptied a couple getting up these outfits, and I think if we throw out the junk—silks and feminine doodads—we can cut the number down to seven or eight."

Nash went below to investigate. The load of coin and plate made the chests too heavy for any one man to carry. Two of them were emptied of coin by distributing their contents among some of the women to carry on their persons. Nash insisted on entering the names of the two hundred-odd girls in his notebook, with the amount given each to tote. There remained six chests of jewelry, art objects, and gold and silver tableware.

"We need some wheelbarrows," he said."Also we want to know where to go when we land. Do any of you girls know of a place that would hold you all?"

"Louise would know," volunteered one of the girls."She used to live on Staten Island."

Louise was sought out. Yes, there were several places, if they were not at present occupied: a Renaissance palazzo in the middle of St. George, a somewhat ruinous castle in New Brighton, a Georgian mansion in Richmond—

"I think the castle is our best bet," said Nash.

"But how on earth will you find out whether we can occupy it?" queried Alicia.

"They probably have real estate agents on the island, Renaissance or no Renaissance. Hey, what's that?"

That was a small be jeweled hunting horn. Nash said: "That'll be useful. I'm figuring out a procession that'll set the Staten Islanders back on their heels so far they won't think of bothering us. When we dock, everybody goes below except the girls with the swords and guns, while I go ashore and make arrangements."

Nash tossed the painter to a loafer on the dock, a man wearing a little round cap and hose tights with one red leg and one blue.

"Morning, m'sieur," said Nash as he scrambled up."Could you tell me where I can buy some wheelbarrows?"

The loafer directed him to a shop a couple of blocks from the dock. Several other men stopped to stare at the barge flotilla, but none ventured close. Kulu was shuffling about the deck as far as his chain would let him, and Smiley was grumbling a bit with hunger.

Nash bought his wheelbarrows, ordered them delivered to the dock at once, and was referred further to the office of a realty agent named Benvenuto Lorenzo Franchetti.

The address turned out to be that of a medium-sized baroque palace, full of mice and corkscrew-shaped pillars, and occupied by several firms. After Nash had wandered about its dust corridors, his ear caught a familiar ring of steel.

In the center of a big hall two men were fighting with rapiers and oversized daggers, one in each hand. One already had a cut on his cheek.

Nash did not feel called upon to interfere, but as he cautiously skirted the hall the combatants jumped apart and lowered their weapons. The unwounded one called out to Nash in Italian.

"Excuse me," said Nash, "but I'm looking for Franchetti's office—"

"That'sa me," replied the duelist."You want to see me on beez?"

"Yeah, if you're not too busy."

The fighter addressed his opponent: "Excusa me, Giacomo, I gotta da beez. I come back and keel you aft', si?"

"Si" said the other darkly."I keel you any tima you say."

Benvenuto Franchetti Jed Nash through a small forest of statues to a desk in the corner. Nash explained his errand.

"Ah," cried Franchetti."You are justa da man! I could kees you!"

"Please don't. I'll rent this castle for a couple of weeks, if I like it."

"A month," said Franchetti, getting out a map."See, here, it is on da highesta point in New Bright', nexta da monastery. Beautiful view of da harb'—"

"Two weeks," insisted Nash."And what's this about a monastery?"

"Justa da monastery. Da owner says a month, mus' be a month." Franchetti wagged his head."He is offering it at a greata sacrifice—"

"How much?"

"Three hundred dol'."

"Give you fifty a week, for two weeks."

"Looka, my friend, is no use trying to beata me down. I am one-pricea Benvenuto. I offer you da lowesta pricea da firsta tima. I never make excepsh. For you, yes, I make one leetle excepsh. I splitta my commish. I impoverish myself. I giva you this beautiful castle for one month for two hundred seventy-fiva dol'."

Nash finally got the castle for one month, two hundred and fifty dollars. He paid, and Franchetti dug out a pair of bronze keys big enough to choke a horse.

"Fina," said Franchetti, wringing Nash's hand."And now excusa me, please. This gentleman is await' for me to keel him." He bowed Nash out, and behind him Prosper could hear the clang of blades resume where it had left off.

Back at the dock Nash found quite a crowd, still keeping a respectful distance from the barges. He called the harem up on deck and marshaled them."We'll march three abreast. Line 'em up, Alicia. You and I and Hamid will lead; he'll tow the cat and toot the horn when the crowd gets in the way. Put your veils back on, girls. Yes, you'll need 'em all right, all right. Ready? Let's go!"

Hamid, the slave who was Smiley's keeper, blew a blat on the horn. Nash drew his sword and started."Out of the way, please! One side there, everybody!"

The crowd of loafers hastily made room for the padding saber-tooth, behind whom came the triple file of Arslan's wives. The column was broken in six places; in each break a slave trundled a wheelbarrow flanked by a pair of Alicia's Amazons. The ape and its keeper brought up the rear.

The singular procession crawled up the narrow streets of St. George toward the New Brighton hills, about a mile off. The natives dropped whatever they were doing to watch. There were no hostile moves; a blast from Hamid's horn or a sniff from Smiley's nostrils was enough to open a lane.

But there were plenty of comments."Sucha beautiful soldiers! Are they men or wom'?"

"I wonder whatta they got in dosa box? Bricksa?"

"Haha, looka da monk' at da end! Hey, monk', you wanta some mon'? OH!"

The last was from a sword-girt gentleman in trunk hose and a round, flat-crowned hat. Kulu shot out a long rust-colored arm and snatched the hat, which he calmly took apart with his teeth.

"Signor," said an insinuating voice at Nash's elbow, "Coulda you spare me one littla dima? I am so poor and you are so richa—"

The vagrant, a handsome, humorous-eyed fellow, looked far from starving. But Nash, who was a sucker for such appeals, handed over the requested alms. In one minute flat, there were twenty beggars trotting alongside, all shouting at once.

Nash stood it as long as he could, then in his best attempt at a burr cried: "Get oot, all o' ye, before I whup ye wi' ma claymore!"

The mendicants looked at one another, shrugged, and went their ways.