We worked through the day, and though I listened intently all the while, I never heard the sound again; nor did I hear it the next day when we returned to the shaft. Three days later, however, the pit overseer made us go to another shaft, near where some others were working. The veins here were so interwoven that there were many connecting rooms and corridors, and sound travelled easily, if confusingly, from one to another. We had just found a good place and had begun working, when I heard the singing again. Gunnar allowed that he had indeed heard something, but that it did not sound like singing at all. "More like crying or weeping," he said.
I became so agitated, that I upset the lamps and spilled out most of the oil. "Now we have to fill them again," I sighed, for it meant a long crawl back to the primary shaft.
"Then we must hurry," Gunnar reminded me, "or we will be scratching our way in the dark."
We left our tools and made our way back to the main gallery and the oil tub. Two other slaves were standing at the vat when we got there, so we waited our turn. As it happened, the pit overseer appeared just then, and began shouting angrily at us. I suppose the sight of four slaves standing idle offended him; perhaps he thought we were trying to avoid work, for he ran at us, uncoiling his whip.
The lash caught me around the throat before I could dodge away; I was yanked to the ground. The guard, under whose less suspicious eye we had been filling our lamps, ran forward and began striking the others with his wooden stave. His first blow struck Gunnar, who fell down beside me clutching his head. The other two slaves, in a clumsy attempt at protecting themselves, pushed the guard aside. Seeing they had overcome him so easily, they kicked him a few times for good measure.
This action made the overseer livid; he began cursing and shouting like a madman, and striking wildly with his whip. The other two slaves, seeing the furor they had caused, ran away, quickly melting into the shadows while Gunnar and I rolled on the ground, writhing under the lash. I heard people shouting, and saw that a number of nearby slaves had come to investigate. I pushed myself up on hands and knees, and, with Gunnar beside me, tried to scramble out of the way of the whip and its crazed wielder.
Unfortunately, this action was seen as trying to avoid further punishment. The overseer, in a spitting rage, renewed his frenzied attack. I felt the lash rip across my shoulders-once, twice, and again. Pain lit my vision with crimson fireballs. I rolled on the ground, tangling with Gunnar, to whom I was chained at the ankle. We could not move fast enough to avoid the whip.
Each stinging lash tore at my flesh. My eyes filled with tears and I could not see. I began shouting for the whipping to stop. I shouted in Greek, I know, and in Danespeak. I cried out in every tongue I knew and begged for mercy.
And miracle of miracles, my cries were answered!
For all at once I heard a shout that sounded like, "Cele De!" The whipping instantly ceased: abruptly and in mid-stroke, the whip went taut and the slave master's arm froze. There came an odd cracking sound and, in my somewhat confused vision, the furious Arab seemed to rise from the floor to hang in the air.
He hovered above me for a moment, his bewildered face growing round and red; he gasped for breath, but could not breathe. Suddenly, the slave master flew sideways through the air and I did not see him any more. The instant he disappeared, another face swung into view above me-a face which for all the world looked like someone I knew.
Still squirming in pain, I gaped, gulping air to keep from passing out. A name came to my lips. I spoke it out.
"Dugal?"
Dugal!" I rolled to my knees, straining up at him. "Dugal, it is myself-Aidan! It is Aidan here." I lurched towards him. "Do you not know me, man?"
Dugal stared at me as if at a monster risen from the bowels of the earth. "Aidan!" he cried, leaning closer. "Sure, I knew it was you! I heard you cry out and I knew it must be Aidan. But…but, you-" Words failed him.
"The same and no other," I replied, and made to stand, but my legs would not hold me and I fell again. Tears came to my eyes and I wept like a child to see my dearest friend once more.
Dugal gave a shout of triumph so tremendous that the whole mine reverberated with the sound. In one swoop, he raised me up and enfolded me in a fierce hug. The touch of his hands on my raw shoulders made me cry out in pain, whereupon he dropped me to my feet again.
"Dana!" he cried. "Christ have mercy, brother, what are you doing here?"
"Dugal, I can hardly believe it is you," I said, dashing tears away. "I was certain you were killed…the battle-I saw you fall."
"That I did, but the blow was never fatal." He beamed at me with such joy, it warmed my heart to see it.
