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mercilessly, and the sharp points of those light weapons pierced the backs of our men, who fell upon their own stacked spears.
    “O my goddess,” I cried. “Let me save Callisto, who cannot save herself.”
    I would circle the palace walls and go in by the cypress garden, where a strong vine climbed up a pillar. I could pull myself up onto the second-floor balcony. I had done it before, escaping the princess prison into which my hostage life had put me.
    The pirates would be after treasure, which they would expect to find deep in the palace, in a thick-walled room with no windows and a massive lock. Only my father had kept his treasure beneath the sea. The pirates would have axes to chop through the doors, but they would rather findthe queen and put a knife to her throat. She would soon enough hand over the key. Petra might even run to meet them, hoping to delay their finding Callisto; hoping to give Nicander time to destroy the foe in spite of such terrible odds.
    I leaped down a terrace wall, ran between apple trees, vaulted down the next terrace and flattened the high stalks of onions.
    I would yank Callisto out of bed and push her onto the balcony. We'd jump. I'd carry her into the hills or drag her.
    Three pirates were headed my way, but I did not think they saw me. Their eyes were on a big flock of sheep enclosed in the stone fold. Nicander had been planning to sacrifice a hundred sheep to Apollo upon the safe return of these very ships.
    O my king.
    I swerved from the path, slipping behind cypresses, whose green tips stabbed the sky, and followed a narrow twisty track to the rear of the palace. To the left were laurel thickets and the pillar I planned to climb. To the right, the cliff.
    Far below was very deep water. It was the thing with boys to prove their bravery and jump off the cliff. They would get a running start, leap into the air, ball themselves up and hit the water with an impressive splash. Mostly they were fine, just bruised, but a few years before, a boy had died, and the king had frowned upon cliff-jumping since then.
    Through the greenery, I saw that the side gate of the palace also lay open.
    Piled by this gate were immense two-handled jars, higher than my waist. All were filled with olive oil, stampedwith the king's octopus seal, ready to be shipped. Pirates came from both directions through the side gate, saluting one another as they took Siphnos. For the fun of it they smashed every jar spout. Cracked sharp pottery cluttered the stone walk and golden olive oil puddled everywhere.
    The next pirate carried a torch to light his way down whatever dark passage led to the treasury.
    In the heat of excitement, men forget themselves.
    And so with this rejoicing pirate. He set fire to the shattered containers of oil. Flames exploded. In a flash, the side gate was blocked. No man could pass through such fire.
    The palace rooms adjoined. Indoor and outdoor halls and balconies were connected by open wooden stairs. The support timbers of the palace were not plastered over, because beams were handy for driving in pegs from which to hang things.
    In moments every wall and ceiling was ablaze; every curtain and tapestry. Fire shriveled the vine I had planned to climb; fire took the trellis and charred the pillar.
    O my princess. I cannot reach you, Callisto.
    The enemy, of course, had planned to burn the town
after
they got the treasure. They raged, but they too were driven out by the burning heat and they drove the villagers ahead of them.
    Our own men were still on the rocks, fighting or dying. Mostly dying.
    More pirates were coming toward the Curved Gate, having finished off most of the unarmed miners. The peasants, caught between, were cut to pieces. The six-year-old shepherd, who could have stayed in the hills and saved himself, fell to the sword. The sheep were herded over the bodies ofthe fallen and down to the ships, so the pirates could feast after their victory. Some sheep panicked and fell off, baaing