Free If Wishing Made It So by Lucy Finn

I fought like a madman although I knew escape was futile. I felt humiliated. I should have died on the battlefield, with honor, not because I was dipping my . . .’’ The genie remembered he was speaking with Hildy and stopped himself mid-sentence.
    ‘‘I’m not a child,’’ Hildy said, her voice cross. ‘‘I know what you two were doing. Go on, please, with the story.’’
    Tony G. gave her a wink, some of his good humor returning. ‘‘I was more angry with myself than with Herod, to be honest. I had been drunk on lust and desire. Now I was determined to go down fighting, not be executed like a common criminal. I lashed out with my feet. I struggled with the strength of ten men, conscious of nothing but the need to break free.’’
    Tony G. puffed up his chest as he spoke.
    ‘‘Then in the midst of the melee, I heard the old servant’s voice shouting at the guards to return me to the chamber. She screamed out that Herod had changed his mind. Bloody and battered, I was brought before the king and thrown down on the hard stone floor. A guard put the point of his sword in the middle of my back, its tip piercing my flesh. He put his foot on my neck so I could not lift my head to see, but I smelled the woman’s perfume. I knew she was there.
    ‘‘Herod began to speak. He was just a puppet ruler, appointed by Rome after all, and I was a Roman centurion, as the lady must have told him. ‘You aroused my anger, perhaps too quickly,’ the king said. ‘You are a Roman citizen, I understand, and well-connected in the senate. Explaining your execution would be tiresome; you do have such bothersome laws in the empire. Besides’—his voice became taunting—‘being served another head on a platter has lost its satisfaction.’
    ‘‘He laughed then, a cold, cruel laugh. ‘My lady here has suggested it would be more amusing to give you a different kind of fate, worse than death perhaps.’
    ‘‘My heart froze at his words. I did not fear beheading, which would have been quick. I cursed myself and my stupidity as I wondered what vile torture he had thought up in the few minutes since I was seized. He soon told me.
    ‘‘ ‘I have a visitor from Egypt, a famous magician, or so he says. So far his tricks have been rather ordinary. He claims he casts spells and enchantments. Let’s find out if he can entertain me with your fate.’ ’’
    The genie looked at Hildy then, his eyes sad, his shoulders sagging. ‘‘The magician put on quite a show for Herod the Great. First he drugged me, assuring my cooperation. Then he produced clouds of rainbow-colored smoke and made marvelous music from invisible instruments ring through the ether. He opened a great book and began reading out a spell. Suddenly I was a few inches tall and imprisoned in a bottle.
    ‘‘Herod himself was the first to pull the cork and request three wishes. As he already had great wealth and power, his wishes were grandiose, but frivolous. After his third wish—a golden chariot pulled by golden horses—I found myself back in the bottle, adrift in a vast blue sea, the Mediterranean, I believe. And that, Ms. Caldwell, is my tale.’’
    ‘‘Is it the truth?’’ Hildy challenged him.
    A twinkle lit up the genie’s eyes, which were as blue as the sea he had just mentioned. ‘‘For the most part,’’ he said. ‘‘I was not executed as you can plainly see. And I truly am a genie, created by enchantment and cast upon the waters to wander forever.’’
    Hildy gave him an appraising look. This Tony G. was not a figment of her imagination, of that she was certain. She had always been a sensible person, not given to visions or flights of fancy. But her belief system most definitely had not included genies. ‘‘I always assumed genies were mythical creatures,’’ she offered, feeling uneasy.
    ‘‘People assumed Troy was a myth too,’’ Tony pointed out.
    ‘‘Yes, until Heinrich Schliemann followed the clues in Homer’s Iliad , found