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earth’s vapors at the touch of the flame.
    â€œFire an’ Water,” Empedocles said clearly. “Burn! Make bad men go ’way!”
    Steam roared from every vent on the floor of the caldera as if Medea’s dragons were imprisoned below. The earth groaned, and rocks came clattering down the cliff. The sprites danced in the glowing clouds, tugging at the men’s clothing, nipping at faces and hands. The Etruscans cast away their torches and fled, but the clouds continued to grow. Screams of terror turned to cries of agony as the Elementals drove them into the sucking mud and boiling pools. It seemed a very long time before the last pleading voice fell still.
    The vapors subsided, but the salamanders returned, flickering around Empedocles in a garland of living flame. He tugged at his mother’s hand, and she let him lead her out from behind the rocks.
    â€œCome!” Kyria’s voice wavered only a little as she called. “It’s safe now.”
    One by one the others emerged from their hiding places and joined her. Guided by Empedocles, they made their careful way back toward the grove. When Eudocia stumbled, Kyria took her arm.
    â€œMy son can talk . . .” she said after a while.
    â€œYes,” said her mother, “but what is he going to say? Oh, my dear, you
are
going to have an interesting time with that child . . .”
    Â â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢Â 
    Author’s Note: The story of the two women who helped bring down the tyrant Aristodemus can be found in Plutarch’s essay “The Bravery of Women.” Cumae is one of the few places in the region built on solid ground. The use of fire to cause condensation in the vapors from the fumaroles of Il Volcano Solfatara has been a tourist attraction since ancient times. The Campi Phlegrei (“Fields of Fire”) is actually an eight-mile-wide super-volcano between Cumae and Naples whose topography changes constantly. It is showing signs of activity today.

Sails of the Armada
    Kristin Schwengel
    July 29, 1588
    â€œ
Exsurge, Domine, et Vindica Causam Tuam.”
His eyes on the open seas, Rodrigo snorted under his breath, then repeated in his native Galician the phrase the
capelán
had used in the morning’s prayer service. “
Arise, O Lord, and vindicate thy cause.
A grand and glorious motto for this misbegotten ‘Enterprise,’ is it not? To make a grasp for power into a holy crusade?”
    Tareixa’s only answer to his frustrated thoughts was to flick the water with her silver-black tail, splashing the salt spray against the side of the
galleas
. Rodrigo grinned for a moment, watching her sinuous form through the deck rails as she rolled and turned in the waves, enjoying the beauty of a clear sky after the recent days of storms. Her mood seemed playful, as though she was urging him to join her in the water.
    It was how they had met, when he was a young boy swimming in the
ría
, the deep ocean inlet near his home. She had come upon him and had swum with him, her giant body dwarfing his. As the years passed, she spent more and more time with him in the
rías
, away from the rest of her kind in the deeper ocean waters. When she was near, he was always aware of her presence in the back of his mind, and he had learned to interpret her moods, to communicate with her after a fashion. True language was beyond her, but she could understand the feeling or intent of his words or thoughts, and sometimes he could create pictures in his own mind that she could share.
    Sensing eyes upon him, Rodrigo pulled his attention from the sea, sorting through the pile of rigging draped over his knees and setting aside coils in need of minor repairs. A separate heap awaited those that were so worn, they could only be shredded back to hempen fibers, to be used for cleaning the ship and her
canone
, or mixed with pitch to fill the inevitable cracks in her hull. Glancing up under his lashes