Chapter 27

"Okay, campers, Admiral O'Neill is now in charge!" Jack shouted, striding happily across the deck giving orders. "Up that anchor. Unfurl that sail. And no sea chanteys!" he added as the team moved to take their positions. "I hate those. Everyone named Jack has a peg leg, an eye patch and swigs rum like a sponge."

Methos laughed. The day was bright and beautiful and not even Jack's taciturn command style could put a damper on his good spirits. After six days in port the hold was clean and they were fully stocked with enough food and water to carry them all the way to Crete. And more to the point, without the pretense of having to stop for fresh water, since they could now purify what they had at will. Or the need to anchor every night for fear of sea monsters and rocks, they could set sail for deep water and make the great island in less than two weeks.

"You look happy," O'Neill said as he joined the Immortal beside the rudder.

"I am," Methos smiled. "I like Crete. Of all the islands, it's my favorite."

"It's nice," O'Neill said blandly. "Good beaches, okay fishing. A little touristy, but nice."

"You're thinking of modern Crete," Methos grinned. "Wait till you see it now. It used to be better when the Minoans had it all, but where we're going... Let's just say it's the last bastion of civilization left on the island."

"You're the tour guide," O'Neill shrugged. "But none of that two for one Club Med shit, Pierson. I'm paying top dollar for this."

"Top dollar it is," Methos grinned. "And I know just the right hotel," he murmured to himself softly as O'Neill went to check the riggings. "The Kronos Isn't Inn..."


The breeze was good and the sea calm as they approached the eastern tip of the island. They were too far out to be spotted, but through their binoculars they could see at least a dozen ships in the distance.

"Looks busy," Carter said as she put away her field glasses and went back to cleaning fish.

"It is," Methos agreed, giving her a hand. They were anchored here until nightfall when they'd land in a quiet cove he knew of and go ashore. "That's Zakoros. One of the best harbors on the island. Nicely sheltered from the winds off the cape. It used to be one of the four great administrative centers on Crete. Had it's own palace, too. Not quite as big as Knossos or Phaistos, but it controlled all the eastern trade with Egypt and the Levant. To a certain extent it still does, even without the central organization of the palace."

The major tossed another fish onto a nearby platter. "It'll be nice to be on land again," she commented, glancing toward the high forested peaks of the island.

Methos only smiled in agreement. The rest of the trip had been relatively easy with only one brief squall to mar their passage. And thankfully, no need for O'Neill to get out the Dramamine.

"When my father was stationed in Athens I visited here," she went on offhandedly. "One of the tour books said that Minoan women were pretty much treated as equals."

"They were," Methos nodded, calming her unspoken fears. No one wanted a repeat of what had happened in Megara. "And in Zakoros that's still pretty much the case. Not a lot of Dorian influence in this area yet. It's always been pretty inaccessible from the rest of Crete. Like Egypt, women have property rights, own businesses, bring lawsuits - and since god is a woman here they control the religious hierarchy as well. In the old days, when the palaces still stood," he smiled wistfully. "They could bull jump and box with the best of 'em. It'll change later," Methos added with a sigh. "But right now, this part of the island is still very much a Minoan society."

"That's good to hear," Samantha nodded distractedly. "And the, uh...native costume?" she inquired delicately.

Methos chuckled. "Those wall paintings are deceiving, Major. Except, of course, for the men," he amended with a wicked grin. "We really did run around in mini skirts and not much else. The only women who went around truly bare breasted were the priestesses. Unless it was a festival day, of course, then all the unmarried women went bare."

"And now?"

Methos shrugged. "That's up to you. We won't be staying in the city. So, you can do what you like. The local girls still keep the old ways of course. But with more strangers coming into town they've learned not to go into the foreign quarter without an escort. A shame too, because Minoan women were always quite open and forthright when they spoke to men. I rather liked that about them. As I recall," he added thoughtfully, gutting one last fish and tossing it onto the pile. "Four of my wives were Minoan."

"You were married?" Samantha asked, very much surprised as Methos grabbed the tray and stood. "When you were a Horseman?"

"Yes, I was married," Methos shrugged as Carter got to her feet and followed. "You know, we weren't always out wreaking havoc on the countryside. A couple of generations on the road and we'd settle down for a bit, wait until the stories passed into legend then go back out in a couple more. Pretty scary when your granddad tells you the tale of the Four Horsemen when you're a kid and you wake up one morning to see them galloping over the ridge. Helps too," he added sardonically. "If you spread the joy across a couple of continents - just so the villagers don't get the idea to band together and finish you off."

"And in between all this, you just...went on vacation? Found a pretty girl and got married?

"That about sums it up," Methos said as they joined the others, who were sorting through what stores they would be taking with them.

"Sums what up?" O'Neill asked as he neatly tied a bed roll.

"The story of how I thrived and wived," Methos said, setting the fish aside as he knelt to pull out a baking dish.

"Wived?" O'Neill asked curiously.

"You never said you were married," Daniel added.

Methos rolled his eyes in disgust and stood. "Is everyone here? Where's Teal'c?!"

He looked around as the big Jaffa poked his head in the cabin door, hearing his name called.

"Good. Get in here. Because what I'm about to say is of the utmost importance. Absolutely necessary information without which you might all come to a bad end and have no one but yourselves to blame. Everyone listening?"

They nodded, trying not to laugh as Methos frowned, hands on hips and sternly told them the truth.

"Since this is obviously information none of you can live without, and for your sublime edification, let it be known that I have been married a grand total of sixty-eight times - not counting slaves and concubines. Are we happy now? Can you at last live with yourselves knowing this ultimate revelation?!"

Teal'c merely raised a disinterested brow and left as Daniel nodded confusedly, no doubt averaging out the number of wives needed per century. Carter merely ducked her head, refusing to laugh aloud.

"That wasn't like, you know, all at once?" O'Neill asked dubiously.

Methos closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. "No, Jack. The most I've ever had to handle at once was in China. Eight wives, eleven concubines. All of them gifts I might add. Nearly drove me insane."

O'Neill frowned, looking from Methos to Daniel and back. "Am I doing something wrong? What is it? The geek always gets the girl?"

Daniel nodded, trying not to laugh. "Sorry, Jack. He who has the sharpest pencil rules."

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