That got her to weeping, so Joe started to drip tears-which was just what I wanted, so I had 'em kneel and prayed over them.

Minerva, I make no apology for hypocrisy. I didn't care whether some hypothetical God heard me or not; I wanted Llita and Joe to hear it-first in that jargon of Blessed, then in English and Galacta, then topped it off by intoning as many lines of the Aeneid as I could remember. When I got stuck I closed with a schoolboy song:

Omme bene

Sine poena,

Tempus est ludendi;

Venit hora

Absque mora,

Libros deponendi!*

(* All is well

Without punishment,

The time is for playing;

Comes the hour

Without delay

For laying (school) books down.

Purists will see that the Senior gave this jingle a poor translation. But one wonders why he did not continue in the same vein with the cheerfully bawdy triple pun available in the last line by substituting "liberos" for "libros"? That he could have missed it seems out of character. Our Ancestor's capric disposition is everywhere evident; his occasional professions of asceticism have at best a hollow ring. J.F. 45th)

-and ended with 'a resounding "So mote it be!" Had 'em stand, take each other's hands, and declared that, by the supreme authority vested in me as master of a vessel in space, they were now and forever husband and wife-kiss her, Joe.

All to a muted 'background of Beethoven's Ninth- That doggerel got in by accident when I had run out of

"punishment lines" of Virgil and needed a few more impressive sounds. But when I thought about it later, I saw that it translated as appropriately for their honeymoon as for a school holiday. All was indeed well, now that I knew that this joining of siblings could take place sine poena-without fear of genetic punishment. And ludendi translates as "amorous play" or "Eros" as readily as "gambling" or "children's play" or any other frolic. And I had declared a four-day ship's holiday, no work for them, no study hours-libros deponendi-starting at once. Sheer accident, Minerva. It was simply a bit of Latin verse that came into my head and Latin is majestic, especially when you don't understand it.

We had a fancy supper, cooked by me, that lasted about ten minutes-for them. Llita could not eat, and Joe reminded me of Johnny's wedding night and why his mother-in-law fainted. So I piled a tray with tasty rations and handed it to Joe, and told 'em to get lost; I didn't want to see hide nor hair of 'em for four days-

(Omitted)

-on to Landfall as fast as I could pick a cargo. I could not leave them on Valhalla; José was not yet able to support a family, and Llita was going to be limited in what she could do, either pregnant or with a new baby. Nor would I be on hand to pick 'em up if they fell down; they had to go to Landfall.

Oh, Llita could have survived on Valhalla, because there they have the healthy attitude that a pregnant woman is prettier than the other sort and that the farther along she is, the more beautiful she is-true in my opinion and especially true in Llita's case. She had been passable when I bought her; when we grounded at Valhalla, she was almost five months gone and radiantly beautiful. If she went dirtside unescorted,, the first six men she encountered would want to marry her. If she had had one on her back as well as one in her belly, she could have married well the day we arrived; fertility was respected there and the planet wasn't half filled up.

I didn't think she would jilt Joe that quickly, but I did not want her head turned by too much male attention. I did not want to risk even an outside chance that Llita might leave him for some wealthy bourgeois or freeholder; I had gone to much trouble to build up Joe's ego, but it was still fragile and such a blow could kill it. He was standing tall and proud now-but his pride was based on being a married man, with a wife, and a child on the way. Did I mention that I had given them one of my names on their marriage certificate? They were now Friherr og Frei Lang, Josef og Stjerne, for the duration of our stay on Valhalla, and I wanted them to remain. Mr. and Mrs. Long for some years at least.

Minerva, I had them take lifetime vows never believing that they would keep them. Oh, ephemerals often stay married for life, but as for the rest-you don't find feathers on frogs very often, and Llita was a naïve, friendly, sexy little tart whose short heels would cause her to trip and land with her legs open without planning it-I could see it coming. I did not want it to happen before I had a chance to indoctrinate Joe. Horns need not give a man a headache. But he does need time to grow up and mellow and acquire self-confidence before he can wear them with tolerance and dignity-and Llita was just the girl who could outfit him with a fine rack of antlers. I got him a job, pearl diver and handyman in a small gourmet restaurant, with a side arrangement for pay-me's to the chef for every Valhalla dish Joe learned to cook correctly. In the meantime I kept her aboard on the excuse that a pregnant woman could not risk the nasty weather until I could get her proper clothing-and don't bother me now, dear; I've got cargo to worry about.

She took it well enough, pouting just a little. She didn't like Valhalla anyhow; it has one-and-a-seventh gee and I had got them used to the luxury of free-fall--easy on her swelling belly, no strain on her arches or her swelling tits. Now she suddenly found herself much heavier than she had ever been, awkward, and with unhappy feet. What she could see of Valhalla from the entrance lock looked like a frozen slice of hell; she was pleased by my offer to take them on to Landfall.

Still, Valhalla was the only new place she had ever been; she wanted to see it. I stalled while I got cargo unloaded, then took her measurements and got her one warm outfit in local style but I played her a dirty trick; I fetched back three pairs of' boots and let her take her choice. Two pairs were plain work boots; the third pair was gaudy-and half a size too small.

So when I did take her groundside, she was wearing too-tight boots, and the weather was unusually cold and blustery-I had watched the predictions. Torheim is pretty in spots, as sky-port cities go-but I avoided those parts and took her "sightseeing" in dull neighborhoods-on foot. By the time I flagged a sleigh and took her back to the ship, she was miserable, and glad to get out of uncomfortable clothes, especially the boots, and into a hot bath.

I offered to take her into town next day but left her free to refuse. She declined politely.

(Omitted)

-not quite that bad, Minerva; I simply wanted to keep her in purdah without arousing her suspicions. Actually I had bought two pairs of those gaudy boots, one pair her correct size-and switched them on her at the end of that first day, while she was soaking her poor, tired feet. Later I suggested that her trouble had been that she had never worn shoes or boots in her life-so why not wear them around the ship until she got the hang of it?

So she did and was surprised at how easy it was. I explained with a straight face that her feet bad swelled the first time, so take it easy, an hour today, a little more each day, until she felt comfortable in them all day long. In a week she was wearing them even if she wore nothing else; she was more comfortable in them than barefooted-not surprising as they were arch-support footwear I had picked most carefully- between pregnancy and the difference in surface gravity of the two planets-point ninety-five gee for her home planet; one point fourteen for Valhalla-she weighed about twenty kilos more than she ever had in her life; she needed contoured foot supports.