passing woman.  He had
noticed her when  they first arrived at Kidogo's village, but since then had
not  chanced to meet her. He knew that  it was Nyora,  the  wife of  one  of
Kidogo's  relatives.  Even in  a  tribe whose women  were  famous for  their
beauty,  Nyora was outstanding. She walked slowly past the friends  with all
the dignity of a woman who was conscious of her own beauty. Pandion gazed at
her  in frank admiration, and  the creative urge came back to him in all its
former strength.
     Nyora  wore a piece of  greenish-blue  cloth tightly  bound  round  her
loins; a string of blue beads, heavy heart-shaped earrings and a narrow gold
band on her  left wrist were her  only ornaments. Her  short black  hair was
gathered on the crown of her head and braided in a fantastic style that made
her  head  seem longer.  Her big eyes showed calm from under long lashes and
the cheek-bones under the eyes formed little  round  hillocks, like those of
healthy and well-fed children amongst the Hellenes.
     Her  smooth black skin was so resilient that her body seemed to be cast
from  iron; it shone in the rays of the setting sun, its coppery hue turning
to gold.  Her long  neck, inclined slightly forward, gave  her head a  proud
poise.
     Pandion  admired Nyora's tall and lithe figure, her easy but restrained
movements. To him she seemed like an incarnation of one of the three Graces,
goddesses  that,  according  to the belief of his country,  had control over
living beauty and made its attraction irresistible.
     Suddenly the  Etruscan gave  Pandion a light tap  on the  head with his
stick.
     "Why don't you run  after her?" asked Cavius, half in joke and  half in
chagrin. "You Hellenes are always ready to fall in love with a woman. . . ."
     Pandion looked at his friend without anger but rather as though he were
seeing him for the first time and then threw his arms impetuously round  his
shoulders.
     "Listen, Cavius,  you don't  like to  talk about yourself. . . . Aren't
you at all interested in women? Don't you feel how beautiful they are? Don't
you  feel  that  they are  part of all this," Pandion made a sweeping circle
with him arm, "the sea, the sun, the beautiful world?"
     "No, whenever  I see  anything beautiful I want to eat it," laughed the
Etruscan. "I'm only  joking," he added in serious tones. "You  must remember
that I'm twice as old as you and behind the bright  face of the  world I can
see  the  other  side that is  dark  and  ugly. You have  already  forgotten
Tha-Quem." Cavius passed his finger over the red brand on Pandion's back. "I
never forget anything. I'm jealous of you, you will create beautiful things,
but  I  can only  wreak destruction in  the  struggle against the forces  of
darkness."  Cavius was silent for  a  few  moments and then  continued in  a
trembling voice: "You don't often think of your own people back at home. . .
. It is many years since I saw my children; I  don't even  know whether they
are alive,  whether my  clan still  exists. Who knows what may have happened
there, in the midst of hostile tribes. . . ."
     The sorrow that tinged the voice of the always reticent Etruscan filled
Pandion  with sympathy. But how  could  he comfort his  friend? And then the
Etruscan's words struck  home painfully: "You don't  often think of your own
people back home. . . ." If Cavius could say such things to him. . . . Could
it be true that Thessa, his grandfather, Agenor, all meant so little to him?
If  such were  not the  case, he would have become as  morose as  Cavius, he
would not have  absorbed  the  great variety of life, and  how would he have
learnt   to   understand  beauty?  Pandion's   thoughts  were   so  full  of
contradiction  that he  could  not  understand  himself.  He  jumped  up and
suggested to the Etruscan that they go to bathe. The latter agreed, and  the
two friends set out  across the hills beyond which,  at  a  distance of five
thousand cubits from the village, lay the ocean.
     A few days before this  Kidogo had gathered together the young  men and
youths  of the  tribe. The  Negro told his  people that  his friends had  no
property  of any kind  except their spears and loin-cloths and that the Sons
of the Wind would not take them aboard their ships without payment.
     "If  every  one of  you helps them  just a little,"  said Kidogo,  "the
strangers will be able to return home. They helped me escape  from captivity
and return to you."
     Encouraged by the general approval that followed, Kidogo suggested that
they  all go with him to the plateau  where the gold deposits were and  that
those  who  could not  go should  contribute ivory,  nuts, hides or a log of
valuable wood.
     Next  day Kidogo informed his friends that he was going away on a hunt,
but  refused  to take  them  with  him,  recommending that  they  save their
strength for the forthcoming journey.
     Kidogo's  travelling companions,  therefore, knew nothing of  the  real
object  of his  expedition. Although the problem of payment  for the journey
home worried  them, they hoped that the  mysterious Sons of the  Wind  would
hire them as rowers.  If  the worst came to the worst, Pandion knew he would
be  able to offer the stones that came from the south,  the old chief's gift
to him. Cavius, also without a word to Kidogo, gathered the Libyans together
two days after  his Negro friend had left and set out up the river in search
of  blackwood  trees;  he  wanted  to fell  a  few of  them  and float  them
downstream on rafts of light wood as the ebony and other blackwoods were too
heavy to float in water.
     Pandion was still lame, and Cavius left him in the  village despite his
protests. This was the second time that his comrades had left Pandion alone,
the first time had been  when they  went  on  the giraffe hunt.  Pandion was
infuriated, but Cavius, superciliously thrusting out his beard, said that on
the first occasion he  had not wasted time and could do the same again.  The
young Hellene was in such a rage that he could not speak, and he rushed away
from his friend, feeling deeply insulted.  Cavius ran after him, slapped him
on  the  back  and  asked  his forgiveness, but,  nevertheless,  insisted on
Pandion remaining behind, to complete his recovery.
     After a long argument Pandion agreed; he regarded  himself as a pitiful
cripple and hurriedly hid himself in the house so as not  to be present when
his healthy comrades were leaving.
     Left  alone Pandion felt a still stronger  urge to  test his ability-he
thought of his success with the statue of  the elephant trainer. He had seen
so much death and destruction during the past few years that he did not want
to have anything to  do with such an unenduring medium as clay; he wanted to
work with more durable material. No such material was at hand and even if he
found it, he still had no tools with which to carve.
     Pandion often admired Yakhmos' stone which, Kidogo insisted, had in the
end  brought them  to  the  sea, for Kidogo  naively  believed in the  magic
properties of things.
     The  clear  transparency of the hard  stone gave  Pandion the  idea  of
carving a cameo.  The  stone was harder  than those  normally used  for such
purposes in Hellas where they were polished with emery stone from the Island
of  Naxos, in the Aegean Sea. Suddenly he remembered that he had stones that
were  harder than  anything else  in  the world,  if  the old chief  of  the
Elephant People was to be believed.
     Pandion  took  out  the smallest  of  the stones  from  the  south  and
carefully  drew its sharp edge along the  edge of the bluish-green crystal-a
white line appeared on the hard surface of the  stone. He pressed harder and
cut a deep furrow such as a chisel of black bronze would cut in soft marble.
The  unusual  hardness  of the transparent  stones from the south was in all
truth greater than anything then known to Pandion. He had magic tools in his
hands that made his work easy.
     Pandion smashed  the little stone and carefully collected all the sharp
fragments;  with  the aid of  hard pitch he fixed them into wooden  handles.
This gave him a dozen chisels of various thicknesses suitable both for rough
carving and for the cutting of fine lines.
     What  should he carve  on  that bluish-green crystal  that  Yakhmos had
obtained from the ruins of a  temple thousands of years old and which he had
carried  safely to the sea, the  sea for  which it had served  as  a  symbol
during the long  years of stifling captivity  on  land? Pandion's  head  was
filled with vague ideas.
     He left the village  and wandered about alone until he reached the sea.
For a  long time he sat on a rock, staring into the distance or watching the
shallow water that ran across the sand  at his  feet. Evening came  and  the
shortlived twilight robbed the sea  of its  sheen; the movement of the waves
could no longer  be seen. The black velvet of the night became more and more
impenetrable,  but at the same time big, bright  stars lit up in the sky and
the celestial beacons, rocked in the  waves, brought  life to  the dead sea.
Pandion  threw  back  his  head and  traced  the outlines  of constellations
unknown to him. The arc of the Milky Way spread across the sky like a silver
bridge, just as it did over  his own country, but here it  was narrower. One
end  of it  was split up by wide dark stripes  and separate dark patches. To
one side and below  the Milky Way  two nebulous star clouds  gleamed  with a
bluish-white  light. (* The  Large and  Small  Magellanic Clouds,  big  star
clusters and nebulae in the Southern Hemisphere.) Close beside them he could
see  a  huge  impenetrable  black patch, shaped like  a pear,  as  though  a
gigantic piece of coal hid all the  stars in that part  of  the sky. (** The
Coalsack-a concentration of black, opaque matter in the sky of  the Southern
Hemisphere.)
     Pandion had never seen anything like it in the sky at home in the north
and  was astonished  at  the contrast between the black  patch and the white
star clouds. Suddenly the young Hellene sensed the very essence of Africa in
that black and white contrast. In its  direct and clear-cut crudity this was
the combination which made up Africa, its whole aspect, as Pandion conceived
it.  The  black and  white stripes of the extraordinary horses..?  the black
skin  of the  natives, painted with  white  colour and  accentuated by their
white teeth and  the whites  of their  eyes; articles  made  from  black and
pearl-white  wood;  the  black and white  columns of  the tree-trunks in the
forest; the brightness of the grasslands  and the  darkness  of the forests;
black  cliffs with white  streaks of quartz-all  these and many other things
passed before Pandion's eyes.
     His  homeland on  the  poor rocky shores of  the  Green  Sea was  quite
different. There the stream of life was  not a tempestuous flood; its  black
and white sides were not in such open conflict.
     Pandion stood  up. The boundless ocean, on the other  side of which was
Oeniadae, cut  him  off from Africa,  the  country that lay  hidden morosely
behind the  night  shadows of  the mountains and that  in  his heart he  had
already left.  In front of  him  the reflections of the stars ran across the
waves, and away there in the north the sea joined  his native Oeniadae where
Thessa was standing on the shore. For the sake of  returning  home,  for the
sake of  Thessa, he had fought and struggled through blood and sand, through
heat and darkness, against countless dangers from man and beast.
     Thessa, distant, loved and  unapproachable, stood like those hazy stars
above the sea, where the edge of the Great Bear just touched the horizon.
     It was then that the solution came to him: on  the stone, the  enduring
symbol of the  sea, he  would  create  the  image of Thessa standing on  the
shore.


     In a frenzy Pandion squeezed  the  chisel in his hand until the  strong
stick broke. For several  days he had been  working  on  Yakhmos' stone with
beating  heart,  stemming his impatience with difficulty, at times drawing a
long line with confidence, at others  cutting tiny marks with infinite care.
The image was becoming clearer. Thessa's head was a success-that proud  turn
of  the  head stood before  him as clearly  as  it had done  in  the hour of
farewell on the  seashore at Cape  Achelous. He  had  carved the head in the
transparent depths of the stone, and now the frosted blue  face stood out in
sharp relief on the mirror-like surface of the stone.  Locks of hair lay  in
easy free lines where a  clear-cut arc marked the curve of the shoulder, but
further-further Pandion suddenly found that he had lost his inspiration. The
young artist, more confident in himself than he had ever been before, cut in
bold sweeping lines the fine outlines of  the girl's body, and the beauty of
the  lines told  of the success of his  undertaking. Pandion  cut  away  the
surrounding surface of  the stone to  bring  his carving into  even  sharper
relief. It was then that he suddenly realized that it was not Thessa that he
had drawn. In the lines of the hips, knees and breast the body of Iruma came
to life, and  there  were  certain  features  that  undoubtedly  owed  their
existence  to his last impression of Nyora. Thessa's figure was not the body
of  the  Hellene girl-Pandion had created an  abstract image. He had  wanted
something else, he had wanted to depict the living Thessa" that he loved. He
tried hard to get rid of the impressions of recent years by a supreme effort
of memory, but it proved impossible, the new was still too fresh.
     Pandion felt much  worse when he realized that once again he had proved
unable to breathe life into an image. While the figure was still in outline,
there had been life in its lines. As  soon as the artist tried to bring  the
flat  figure into  relief,  however, it turned to stone,  it became cold and
inert.  And  so, after all, he  had  not fathomed the  secrets of art.  This
image, too, would remain lifeless!  He  would not be  able to put his  ideas
into effect!
     After he had broken the chisel in his agitation, Pandion took the stone
and  examined  it at arm's  length. No,  he  could not  create the  image of
Thessa, and the wonderful cameo would remain unfinished.
     The sun's rays shone through the transparent stone, filling it with the
golden tinge of  his native seas.  Pandion had carved the figure of the girl
on the extreme right-hand edge  of the biggest surface of the stone, leaving
most of it still untouched. The  girl with the face  of  Thessa, but who was
not Thessa, stood at  the edge of the stone  as though she were standing  at
the edge of  the sea. The enthusiasm that had inspired Pandion to  work from
dawn to dusk, waiting impatiently for  the coming of each new  day, had left
him. Pandion put the stone away,  gathered" his chisels and straightened his
aching back. The grief of defeat was made lighter by the realization that he
could still create  a  thing of beauty...  but,  alas,  how  poor it  was in
comparison with the living being!  He had  been so immersed in his work that
he ceased awaiting the return of his comrades. A little boy who came running
up to him took Pandion's mind away from his dark thoughts.
     "The man with the thick beard has come  and  has sent  for you to go to
the river," announced Cavius' messenger, proud of the task entrusted to him.
     The fact that  Cavius  had  stayed by the river  and sent for him to go
there worried Pandion.  He hurried to the river-bank along a path that wound
its  way through thorn-scrub.  From  a distance he could see a group  of his
companions  on  the  sandy river-bank,  standing around a bunch  of reeds on
which lay  a man's body. He hopped clumsily along, trying not to step on his
injured foot, and entered the  circle of silent friends.  He  recognized the
man lying on the  reeds as Takel,  a young Libyan who had taken part in  the
flight across the desert. The Hellene  knelt down-and  bent over the body of
his comrade.  Before Pandion's eyes flashed a picture of  the stiflingly hot
gorge in  the  sandstone  mountains  where  he plodded along  half-dead from
thirst. Takel was one of those followers of Akhini who had brought him water
from  the well. Only  now  that  he  knelt before  Takel's body did  Pandion
realize how near  and dear to him  was  everyone  who had taken part in  the
insurrection and the flight. He had grown used to them and could not imagine
life without them. For weeks Pandion might  not have anything to do with his
companions when he knew  that they  were  safe, each  going  about  his  own
affairs; but  this sudden  loss crushed  him.  Still on his  knees he turned
inquiringly to Cavius.
     "Takel was  bitten  by a snake  in the undergrowth," said Cavius sadly,
"while we were wandering in search of  blackwood. We didn't know  any cure-"
he sighed  deeply  -"so  we abandoned everything  and sailed  back  down the
river. When we carried him ashore, Takel was already  dying. I  sent for you
to say good-bye to him ... it was  too late. . . ."  Cavius, his head bowed,
clenched his fists, and did not finish what he was saying.
     Pandion  stood  up.  Takel's  death seemed so  senseless and  unjust to
him-not in a glorious battle, not in the struggle against  wild beasts,  but
here, in  a peaceful  village where  he had promise  of a  return home after
great  deeds  of valour and courageous  fortitude on the long journey.  This
death caused the young Hellene  great pain; he felt the  tears welling up in
his eyes and to conceal  them stared hard at the river. On  either side of a
sand-bank rose the green walls of dense thickets of reeds  so that the mound
of light-coloured sand seemed to stand in open green gates. At the fringe of
the forest grew gnarled  and  twisted white trees with tiny leaves. From all
the branches of these trees hung luxuriant garlands of bright red flowers (*
Combretum purpureum) whose fluffy flat clusters looked  like transverse bars
of  red  threaded on thin stems, some of  which hung down in garlands, while
others  pointed upwards  to the sky. The flowers gave off a  red reflection,
and the white trees burned in the green  gates like  funeral  torches at the
gates of the nether world to which the spirit of the  dead  Takel was on its
way. The  dull  leaden waters of  the river, broken by banks of yellow sand,
rolled slowly along.  Hundreds  of crocodiles  lay on the  sand-banks.  On a
sandy spit near where Pandion was standing, several of the huge reptiles had
opened  their  jaws in their  sleep, and  in  the sun they looked like black
patches surrounded by  the white spikes of  their terrible teeth. The bodies
of the crocodiles sprawled out on the sand as though  they were flattened by
their  own weight. The long folds of the scaly skin of their bellies  lapped
over flat backs covered with rows of protuberances  of a lighter colour than
the  black-green  spaces  between them.  Paws,  with their joints  awkwardly
turned outwards, stretched on either side in an ugly pose. Now and again one
of the  reptiles  would flick its  long ridged tail against another who, his
sleep  disturbed, would close  his mouth  with a snap  that resounded loudly
down the river.
     The wayfarers raised the body of the dead man and carried it in silence
to the village under the alarmed  glances of villagers  who came running up.
Pandion walked  behind,  away from Cavius. The Etruscan  considered  himself
guilty  of the death of  the Libyan since the idea of  hunting for ebony had
been  his.  Cavius  walked beside  the  sad  procession, biting  his lip and
running his fingers through his thick beard.
     Pandion also felt  qualms of conscience.  He also felt himself  guilty.
What  right  had he to  grow  enthusiastic over  the carving of the  girl he
loved, at a time when he should have busied himself with something in memory
of  the  fighting friendship of people  of  different races who  had  passed
through all trials together, had  remained true in face of death, hunger and
thirst, in the sorrowful days  of their  wearisome march. "Why did this idea
not  occur to me  before?"  the  young Hellene asked  himself.  Why  had  he
forgotten the friendship that had grown up in the fight for freedom? Not for
nothing had  his work been a  failure -the  gods  had  punished him  for his
ingratitude. . . . Let today's sorrow teach him to see better. . . .


     Like  a  herd of buffaloes,  the  low purple and  grey  clouds  crawled
heavily across the sky,  bunching together in a solid  mass. Dull rumbles of
thunder  filled  the  air.  A tropical downpour  was on its way,  and people
hurriedly  took  everything that  had been  lying about  into  their houses.
Cavius and Pandion had only just time to take  cover in their house when the
huge bowl  of the heavens  tipped  over,  and the roar of  the falling water
drowned  even  the  peals of thunder. As  usual the rain soon  stopped,  the
vegetation gave  off  an acrid smell in the fresh,  humid air, and countless
streams gurgled faintly as they made their way to the river and the sea. The
wet trees rustled dully in the wind.  The  noise  was grim and sad,  nothing
like the  rapid rustle of  leaves on a fine dry day. Cavius sat listening to
the noises of the forest and said suddenly:
     "I can't forgive myself Takel's death. It was my fault; we went without
an  experienced guide, and we are strangers in this land  where carelessness
means death. The  result is that  we  have  no ebony  and  one  of  our best
comrades lies dead under a  heap of stones on  the river-bank. . . . A  high
price to pay for my foolishness. . . . I can't make up my mind to try again,
and we have nothing to pay to the Sons of the Wind."
     In  silence Pandion took a handful of  the sparkling stones out of  his
bag and laid  them before the Etruscan. Cavius nodded  his head in approval,
but suddenly doubt showed on his face.
     "If they don't know the value of these stones, the Sons of the Wind may
refuse to take them. Who has heard of such stones in our countries? Who will
buy them as valuables? Although. . . ." Cavius paused to think.
     Pandion took fright.  Cavius' simple explanation  of their position had
not entered his head before. He had lost  sight  of the fact that the stones
might have no value in the eyes of the  merchants. The hand he stretched out
towards the stones trembled in consternation and fear for the future. Seeing
the  alarm  in Pandion's  face,  Cavius spoke to him again. "I  seem to have
heard that transparent stones  of great hardness were  sometimes brought  to
Cyprus and Caria from the distant  east and  had a very high value.  Perhaps
the Sons of the Wind know that?..."
     The morning  after his talk with Cavius, Pandion  set out along a  path
that led to the  foothills where the bananas grew. It was time for Kidogo to
return, and his  friends were  awaiting him in  impatience; they  wanted his
advice on how to obtain something valuable for the Sons of the Wind. Cavius'
doubts had  shattered Pandion's faith  in  the stones from the south and the
young  Hellene now knew  no peace.  Without  realizing  it  Pandion  set out
towards the mountains in the hope of  meeting the  expedition  of his  Negro
friend. Apart from everything else, he wanted to be alone to think out a new
work of  art that was  beginning to  take  form in his mind.  Pandion walked
soundlessly along the hard trampled earth  of the footpath. He was no longer
lame and his former easy gait had returned to him. Local people, loaded with
clusters of yellow fruits,  whom  he met on the way, grinned at him or waved
bunches  of leaves to him as  a sign of friendship.  The path turned to  the
left. Pandion walked on between solid  green walls of succulent  vegetation,
filled with the golden glow of sunlight. In the hot glare of the sun a woman
whom Pandion recognized as Nyora was moving gracefully along the path.  From
the  hanging clusters of bananas  she was selecting the  greenest fruits and
packing them in a high basket. Pandion  stood back in the shadow of the huge
banana  leaves and the feelings of the artist put all other  thoughts out of
his mind. The young woman went  from one bush to another,  her  figure  bent
gracefully over the basket, and again she stretched up on tiptoes, straining
her entire body to  reach the higher fruits. The golden sunlight sparkled on
her smooth black skin, accentuated by the bright green background of leaves.
Nyora gave a little jump,  her body arched into a curve as  she plunged  her
hands into the  velvety foliage. Pandion  was so  engrossed  that  he caught
against a dry twig, and a loud crackle broke  the silence. In an instant the
young woman turned  round and stood stock-still. Nyora  recognized  Pandion,
and the body that had been tensed  like the string of a  musical  instrument
immediately  became  calm  as  she  smiled  at the  young  Hellene. Pandion,
however,  noticed  nothing. A  cry of  ecstasy  broke from his lips and  his
wide-open golden eyes stared at  Nyora  without seeing her, his mouth opened
in a faint smile. The astounded  woman stepped back from  him. The  stranger
suddenly turned and ran away shouting something in a language she  could not
understand.
     Pandion had  suddenly made a great  discovery, something  he  had  been
groping for unconsciously  but  persistently, something  he had always  been
very near to in his unceasing mental search. He would never have found it if
he had not made  comparisons  and had not sought  new paths for his own art.
That which  has life in it can never be immobile. In a beautiful living body
there is  never dead  immobility,  there is  only repose, the  moment when a
movement  has  been  completed  and  is  changing  to another movement,  its
opposite. If he could seize that moment and  reproduce it in the  motionless
material, the dead stone would live.
     This is what  Pandion had seen in the motionless Nyora, when  she stood
still like a statue cast from black metal. The young Hellene went away alone
to  a tree in a  small  glade. If anybody had  seen him there, he would have
been sure that Pandion was mad: he was  making  jerky movements, bending and
straightening his arm or his leg, and trying hard to  follow  the movements,
twisting his neck and straining his eyes till they hurt. He did  not  return
home  until evening. He was excited and had  a feverish gleam in his eye. To
Cavius' great astonishment, Pandion made him stand up in front of him, march
about  and halt at his  command. At first the  Etruscan was patient with his
friend and his antics, but at last  he could stand it no longer and sat down
on the ground  with an  air of determination. Even then Pandion gave him  no
rest. He stared  at him as he sat there, first  from the right and then from
the left, until Cavius, letting out a stream of profanity, said that Pandion
had a  touch of fever and  threatened to tie him up and  lay him down on the
bed.
     "You can go to the crows!" shouted Pandion in a joyful  voice. "I'm not
afraid of you; I'll twist you up like the horn of the white antelope."
     Cavius  had never seen his  friend  in such  a  childishly  jolly  mood
before.  He  was glad of it, for he  had long  been  aware that  Pandion was
spiritually depressed. He muttered something about a boy who  was making fun
of his father and gave Pandion a light blow; Pandion immediately calmed down
and  announced  that he was as hungry as a wolf. The two friends sat down to
supper, and Pandion  tried  to explain his great discovery  to  his  friend.
Contrary to Pandion's expectations, Cavius showed interest in the matter and
asked  Pandion  many  questions,  trying  to  understand the nature  of  the
difficulties that faced the sculptor in his efforts to depict real life.
     The two friends sat talking for a long time, until it was quite dark.
     Suddenly something stood in the way of the stars that shone through the
open doorway, and Kidogo's voice gave them a pleasant  thrill. The Negro had
returned unexpectedly and decided to pay  an immediate visit to his friends.
When  they asked him  about  the  results  of  the  hunt, he  gave  them  an
indefinite answer, said he was tired and promised  to  show his trophies the
next morning. Cavius and Pandion told him about the  expedition in search of
ebony  and  about Takel's  death. Kidogo was  infuriated  and  in his frenzy
showered curses upon his  friends, said that their actions were an insult to
his  hospitality and even  went to  the extent of  calling  Cavius  an  "old
hyena." In the  end the  Negro  grew calmer-his  sorrow  at  the death  of a
comrade was greater than  his wrath. Then the Etruscan and the  Hellene told
him that they were worried about finding  something to pay  the Sons  of the
Wind with and asked his  advice. Kidogo  showed the greatest indifference to
their worries and went away without having answered their questions.
     The despondent  friends  blamed Kidogo's  strange behaviour  on  to his
sorrow at the death of the Libyan,  and both of them for  a long time tossed
sleeplessly on their beds, pondering over the situation.
     Late next morning Kidogo came to them  with  an  expression  of  shrewd
cunning  on  his  kindly face. He  was accompanied by all  the Libyans and a
crowd  of  young  men of his tribe. Kidogo's people  winked  at the  puzzled
strangers, whispered amongst themselves, laughed loudly and shouted snatches
of incomprehensible phrases. They hinted at the sorcery that was supposed to
be a  feature  of  their people and said that  Kidogo was  possessed  of the
ability  to turn ordinary sticks into  ebony and  ivory, and river-sand into
gold. The strangers had  to listen  to  all  this nonsense on their  way  to
Kidogo's  house. Kidogo led  them to  a small  storeroom,  a  building  that
differed from the other simple houses in that it had a door which was closed
from the outside by a huge stone. With the aid of several of his  men Kidogo
rolled the stone  away,  and the  young people  stood on either  side of the
wide-open  door. Kidogo,  bending down, entered the storeroom, beckoning  to
his friends to follow. Cavius, Pandion and the Libyans did  not know what it
was  all about and stood for some time  in the  gloom until  their eyes  got
accustomed to the half  light coming through a narrow gap that encircled the
wall under the eaves. Then  they saw a number of thick black logs, a pile of
elephant tusks and five big  baskets filled to the top with medicinal  nuts.
Kidogo watched the faces of his comrades attentively as he spoke to them.
     "All that is yours. My people have gathered it all for you to make your
journey pleasant and easy!  The Sons  of the  Wind ought to take a couple of
dozen passengers and not one for such a price. . . ."
     "Your  people are making us such  a  present," exclaimed  Cavius, "what
for?"
     "Because  you  are good people, because you are brave men, because  you
have performed so many deeds of  valour and because you  are  my friends and
helped me return home," chanted Kidogo, trying to appear imperturbable. "But
wait a minute, that isn't  all!"  The  Negro stepped to one side, thrust his
hand down between the baskets and picked  up  a bag of strong leather as big
as a man's head.
     "Take this," said Kidogo, handing the bag to Cavius.
     The Etruscan held out his hands palm upwards and almost dropped the bag
as his  arms bent under the weight of it. The Negro roared with laughter and
danced a few steps as a sign of  pleasure. The loud laughter of  the  youths
outside was like an echo.
     "What is it?" asked Cavius, clutching the heavy bag to his breast.
     "How can you, a wise old soldier, ask such a question?" said Kidogo  in
the merriest of tones. "As though you don't know that there's only one thing
in the world that is as heavy as that."
     "Gold!"  exclaimed the  Etruscan in  his own language,  but  the  Negro
understood him.
     "Yes, gold," he said.
     "Where  did you get so  much?"  put in  Pandion, pinching  the  tightly
packed bag.
     "Instead  of hunting we went to the plateau  where gold  is found.  For
eight days we dug the sand  there and washed it in water. .  . ." The  Negro
paused for a moment and then added: "The Sons of the Wind won't take  you to
your homes. When you reach your own seas,, your roads will be different, and
everybody  will have to make his  own way home. Divide the gold  and hide it
carefully so that the Sons of the Wind won't see it."
     '"Who else went on that 'hunt' with you?" asked Cavius.
     "All  these people," said Kidogo,  pointing to  the young men  crowding
round the door.
     Deeply  touched and filled with joy,  the  friends hurried to thank the
Negroes. The latter, confused by this display of gratitude, shifted from one
foot to the other and one by one drifted away to their houses.
     The friends left the storeroom and pushed  the stone  back in front  of
the door.  Kidogo had suddenly become silent, his gaiety  had  gone. Pandion
drew his black friend towards him, but Kidogo immediately slipped out of his
embrace, placed his hand on  the Hellene's shoulder and stared deep into his
golden eyes.
     "How can I leave you!" exclaimed Pandion.
     The Negro's fingers dug into his shoulder.
     "The God of Lightning be my  witness," said Kidogo in a  dull voice, "I
would give all the gold on the plateau, I would give everything I have, down
to the last spear, if you would  remain here with me  for ever. . . ." There
was an expression of pain on the Negro's  face  and he covered his eyes with
his hands. "But I  do not even ask that of you." Kidogo's voice trembled and
broke  off. "I learned the meaning of home when I was  in captivity. . . . I
realize that you cannot stay ...  and I, as you see, am doing  everything to
help you  go. . . ." The Negro suddenly released his hold of Pandion and ran
away to his own house.
     The young Hellene stared after his friend and tears made a haze  before
his eyes. The Etruscan heaved a heavy sigh behind Pandion's back.
     "The  time  will come  when  you and  I must part," he  said softly and
sorrowfully.
     "Our homes  are  not  very  far  apart and ships sail between them very
often," said Pandion, turning round to him.  "But Kidogo ... he  will remain
here on the outer edge of Oicumene."
     The Etruscan did not say another word.


     Now  that  Pandion  was  sure   of  the  future  he  gave  himself   up
wholeheartedly  to  his  art.  He  was  in  a  hurry;  the  magnificence  of
friendship,   cemented  in  the  struggle  for  freedom,  was  a  tremendous
inspiration that compelled him to hurry. He could already see the details of
his cameo.
     The three men must stand embracing each other against the background of
the sea towards which they had struggled, the  sea that promised them return
to their homes.
     On the larger flat side of the stone  Pandion had decided to depict the
three friends,  Kidogo,  Cavius  and  himself, in the sparkling, transparent
light of the expanses of the sea which the bluish-green stone represented as
nothing else could.
     The young sculptor made a few  sketches on thin pieces of ivory such as
the women of the  tribe  used to grind  and mix some sort of  ointment.  The
discovery  that  he  had  made  necessitated  his  having  a  living  figure
constantly before his eyes. This, however, presented no difficulty since the
Etruscan was  with  him the whole time, and  Kidogo, feeling that  the ships
would soon  be coming, left his own work  to spend as much time  as possible
with his friends.
     Pandion often asked the Etruscan and the Negro to stand in front of him
with  their  arms round each other's shoulders, which they, laughing at him,
always did.
     The friends often sat talking together  for  a long time,  confiding to
each  other their most secret  thoughts, their  worries and their plans, and
deep down in each of them  the  realization that they must part dug into his
heart like a thorn.
     While Pandion talked he did  not waste time but worked persistently  on
his hard stone. At times the sculptor would sit in silence; his glance would
become sharp  and  penetrating-he was trying to  catch  some detail  in  the
features of his friends that was important to him.
     The three embracing figures began to  stand out in ever greater relief,
all the time becoming more lifelike. The central figure was that of the huge
Negro, Kidogo; to the  right, turned slightly towards the blank space on the
stone  stood  Pandion, and on the  left Cavius,  both  with  spears in their
hands. Cavius and Kidogo thought  that their images were very lifelike,  but
insisted that  Pandion had  drawn  his  own  portrait  poorly.  The sculptor
laughed and said that that was not important.
     The  figures  of  the  friends,  despite  their  diminutive  size, were
extremely lifelike and  there was  real virtuosity  in every  line of  them.
There  was strong, impetuous movement in their bodies, but at the same  time
there  was elegant restraint  in them.  In Kidogo's  arms, thrown around the
shoulders of the Etruscan and the  Hellene, Pandion had managed to express a
movement of  protection  and fraternal tenderness. Cavius and Pandion  stood
with  heads inclined warily, almost  menacingly, with the tense vigilance of
mighty  warriors ready  at any moment to repel the attack  of any  foe.  The
group as a whole gave this  impression of might and confidence,  and Pandion
made every effort to express in his carving all the best that  was in  those
who  had become his dearest friends  on  the  long  road from slavery to his
native land. The sculptor realized that at last he had succeeded in creating
a  work of art. Kidogo and Cavius stopped making fun  of Pandion.  For hours
they sat with bated breath watching the movements of the magic chisel, their
new attitude  towards  Pandion being  the  expression  of  a  vague sort  of
adoration.  Their  young  friend, bold, merry and  even  childish, -at times
amusing in his admiration of women, had proved himself a  great artist! This
was a fact that both pleased and astonished Kidogo and Cavius.
     Pandion put all his love  for  his friends  into that burst of creative
enthusiasm.  His original idea-that  of carving Thessa on the stone-did  not
have  any  further  appeal.  Thessa,  Iruma and Nyora,  women from different
peoples, were sisters in their beauty; in all of them he felt the same power
of attraction. . . . Whether they were sisters in all other respects Pandion
did not know. Could Thessa form as firm a friendship for Nyora as he had for
Kidogo? In Pandion's friendship with Cavius and Kidogo, in their comradeship
with the other fugitive slaves-but few of whom were left together  now-there
was a  fraternity of identical  thoughts and  efforts, cemented more  firmly
than stone by  loyalty and courage. They were real brothers although one  of
them  had  been born  here under the strange trees of  Africa of a mother as
black as himself; the second had lain in  his cradle in  a hut that trembled
in the bitter storms  of  the northern lands at a time when  the  third  was
already  a  warrior fighting  against the  fierce  horsemen  of  the distant
steppes  on the shores of a dark sea. . . . Their hearts, tested hundreds of
times  in adversity,  were joined  by strong  sinews and  ...  of how little
importance now were differences of country, faces, bodies and religion!
     The days passed  quickly. Pandion  suddenly realized  that three months
and  a  half had passed, and that the time  appointed for the arrival of the
Sons  of  the  Wind had also  passed.  Pandion experienced mixed feelings of
anxiety and relief-anxiety because the Sons of the Wind  might never come at
all,  and  relief  because  the  inevitable  parting  with  Kidogo was being
postponed.  In  his  wearying anxiety  Pandion often left his  work-it  was,
incidentally,  almost  completed.  The Hellene again  began  making frequent
trips to the sea, always hurrying back  so as not to be  long  away from his
friends.
     One day Pandion was making ready to go  for his usual bathe in the sea.
He  got up and called his friends, but they refused; they were engaged  in a
heated argument on  the  best way  to  prepare  leaves  for 'chewing. In the
distance they  suddenly heard  the  sounds  of  numerous voices, shouts  and
screams of ecstasy,  such as Kidogo's excitable people gave vent to on every
occasion of  importance.  Kidogo  jumped up,  his face  turned ash-grey, the
pallor even spreading to his mighty chest. Staggering slightly,  Kidogo  ran
to his own hous