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Civilicus stood at the bow of his flagship, looking out to sea, his face expressionless. Without the light of the Moon he looked into darkness. But he could smell the sea, he could hear it, taste its salt on the air, and from life-long intimacy he could sense it as a physical thing. Beneath his saddles he felt the deck sway. The tide was going out.
He turned to the man who stood to his left and behind him. "Prepare to castoff, Captain. Alert the other ships."
"Aye, sir."
Within minutes the order had gone round the small squadron of ships. All stood in preparedness.
"Cast off," Civilicus ordered.
He didn't look back toward the torch lit wharf, hoping for a glimpse of Ciara. She wouldn't be there. With his newfound cursed foresight he had fore-seen that she would not. Mercifully, he'd been spared the shattering vision of her seeking forgetfulness, writhing beneath the king.
They left the harbor with the tide. The white sails of the ships were struck bronze with the dawn's new light as they tacked and moved off across the wine-dark sea toward the west.
And the two lovers were parted forever after.
-end-
