"And that should do it then Laertes?" Damon asked as he sat on the dock, his body dripping from the sea's water. The wood of the dock was warm from a day's worth of sun and Damon enjoyed the warmth.

"That's that sir," came the old man's voice in reponse from the stern. He hopped over and wedged between obstacles on the deck to join Damon on the dock. "I'll go find some of the lads at Xinka's and have them finish the unloading. You best get up there, they'll know you're home."

"I'll see you with the sun, my old friend," smiled Damon, and with that he heaved his tattered brown sack over his shoulder and walked along the docks towards Gavdos.

Damon and his crew had returned that day from a month's voyage, pillaging ships of the East and skirting an encounter with navy ships. The greatest of their plunder had returned to Gavdos with them, and Damon was assured that his crew had succeeded in creating a ruckus about the town with their tales and treasures. He had commanded a ship for nearly four years yet the island had already come to await his return more than others. Damon was a risk-taker, risks paid greater dividends. The risks are necessary... Damon frequently told himself, because with me the crew can make the most, and once they know this, they are loyal. Loyalty is everything.

Damon passed into and out of the village, politely declining offers of drinks and meals from his crew and neighbors. The road gradually disintegrated into a thoroughly worn path up the hill of sand and shrubs. Here Damon entered one of the plain dwellings which overlooked the village below.

"If it isn't my rugged mariner, back from his brutish adventures to mount me each night until he must return to his real wife, the Sea."

"It's wonderful to see you too, my loving wife."

Atalanta was revered to be the most beautiful woman of the island. There was great expectation at the time when she reached the age for marriage, rumor tells it that unmarried men made haste to end their voyages so that they might be present. A wave of violence and murder, the latter being less usual for Gavdos, arose at this time, with several of her suitors killed or vanished. No one married Atalanta, however, as she admittedly refused any man and sought refuge with an older, widowed woman, Kirke. She and Kirke became, and remained, the closest of confidants, even with the arrival of Damon and Atalanta's marriage to him.

Damon set down his sack, steathly withdrawing an item from within and hiding it within his grasp. He crossed the room to his beautiful wife, sought her lips with his, and lifted his hands to her neck. Around it he secured a necklace of glimmering beads. Atalanta felt the object with her fingers, and with a look of displeasure, removed the necklace and returned it to his possession.

"It is beautiful, but I won't wear it," she said. "Give it to Kirke."

"I bought this for you."

"And within a day you plundered the entire marketplace, yes I don't doubt it is for me."

Damon tossed the necklace against a wall and heaved an annoyed sigh.

"Where is my boy, at least he should enjoy seeing me."