"I smell smoke," Carnifex observes as the party drifts down the river. His words stir the women from their sightseeing, and Aithne gives a shout of alarm. It looks like the bridge dead ahead is on fire. Whisps of smoke are being carried downriver on the breeze. Cicatrix guides the boat close to the shore, looking for a place to land.

"We can't go any further, it seems. I guess your cruise ends here, Atia," Faustina says.

They brace as the boat comes to a halt on a sandbar. Virodox clutches his precious provisions to keep them from capsizing.

"Well, we cannot stay here," says the self-appointed Phonecian of the party. "I guess our only choice is to carry the boat around the obstruction. Everybody out!"

Five pairs of eyes stare at him, and no one moves. "But I'm serious," Cicatrix insists. "I can't push this boat back upstream and I don't think we want to spend the night out on this sandbar. Look, it's simple. Carnifex and I will carry the boat. Virodox, you and the women can carry whatever the hell that smelly stuff is that you bought."

"Smelly stuff? Why you cretin! These are fine cheeses we are talking about here."

"Virodox, calm yourself," Faustina says before he can launch into an epic saga of complaints that could rival the Illiad. "Even Cicatrix has a good idea every now and then, and I say we should adopt his plan. Never let it be said that I'm afraid to do work with my own two hands. Atia, dear, you don't have to carry anything."

The gladiators carry the women over to the bank, so no one gets their feet wet, followed by the cook and his cargo. Lastly they heft the boat onto their shoulders and carry it up the bank of the river. They get quite a few strange looks from the locals. What an odd sight! Atia takes it all in, waving to everyone. She's having the time of her little life!