"I think the Salentinoi live in these parts," Menedemos answered. "They're a lot like the Illyrians, over on the other side of the Adriatic."
"Nasty bastards, then," the sailor said. "I hope they do come for Alexidamos. What makes it even worse is, he's from Rhodes just like us."
"I don't care where he comes from," Menedemos said. "I only hope I never see him again."
When they came alongside the Aphrodite, Sostratos gave Menedemos his hand and helped him up into the akatos. "Thank you," Menedemos' cousin said again. "I thought you were going to - I don't know what I thought you'd do when the bird went overboard."
Menedemos hadn't know what he would do when the peahen sprang into the Ionian Sea, either. His first impulse had been to do something a great deal more drastic than what he did. He explained why he hadn't: "You're flogging yourself harder right now than I could if I tried for a year."
"That's true." Sostratos hesitated, then added, "I know that's true. I didn't know if you'd know it."
"Well, I do." Menedemos looked back toward the shore. "I don't see Alexidamos. He must have got loose. Too bad." Then he looked toward the westering sun. "And we won't make Taras by nightfall, either. That's too bad, too."
"I don't suppose you intend to beach us for the night?" Sostratos said.
"Not likely!" Menedemos exclaimed. "Do you think I'm mad, or just stupid? These Italian barbarians would land on us like a fox on a rabbit." Only when one corner of his cousin's mouth curled up ever so slightly did Menedemos realize he'd been had. He stabbed out an accusing finger. "You set me up for that."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Sostratos might have convinced a jury, but he didn't convince Menedemos.
Here close to the mainland, the wind didn't blow steadily out of the northwest any more. Menedemos ordered the sail lowered from the yard. The sailors sprang to obey. They'd spent a lot of time taking turn and turn again at the oars, and were glad to let the breeze push the akatos along for a while. The Aphrodite probably would have gone faster had Menedemos kept the men rowing, but he didn't worry about it. They wouldn't have made Taras before sundown if he'd tried a sprint with a man at every oar. That being so, he was content to loaf along with the fickle breeze.
"Sail ho!" Aristeidas called, and pointed out to sea.
"Maybe we'll see what all that rowing practice got us," Diokles said.
"Maybe," Menedemos said. The lookout's call had been plenty to bring the crew back to full alertness. He liked that.
But the sail, when they got closer, proved to belong to a little fishing boat. Menedemos relaxed. So did his crew. The fishermen tried to flee, as fishermen usually did on spotting the Aphrodite. The wind, though, chose that moment to fail. Menedemos put some men on the oars and easily overhauled the boat.
When the frightened fishermen found out he aimed to trade and not to rob, they were so relieved, they gave him enough squid to feed the whole crew to the point of gluttony in exchange for a couple of jars of wine - not golden Ariousian, but the rough red the men drank at sea. Fried in olive oil on little charcoal-burning braziers, the squid smelled wonderful. Menedemos' mouth watered. His belly rumbled.
"Sitos is all very well," he said, "but we can be opsophagoi to our hearts' content tonight."
"I'll eat bread with my squid," Sostratos protested.
But Menedemos pounced. "Ha! From your own mouth you stand convicted. If you weren't going to be an opsophagos, you'd eat squid with your bread."
Sostratos considered that, then dipped his head. "Guilty, sure enough." He grinned. "Why not? We've got plenty." He popped a little one into his mouth.
The sun was still low in the east the next morning when the Aphrodite came to Taras. Plenty of ships were on the water there: fishing boats like the one whose crew they'd frightened, beamy merchantmen, and a couple of patrolling fives. One of the war galleys came up to give the akatos a closer inspection.
"We're the Aphrodite, out of Rhodes," Menedemos said in some annoyance as an officer shouted questions. "We're not fornicating pirates, and I'm getting tired of being taken for one." He cupped a hand behind his hear. "What's that? Cargo? We've got fine Khian wine - the best - and papyrus and ink, and Rhodian perfume and Koan silk for your ladies. And we've got peafowl and peafowl eggs, the likes of which you've never seen here in Great Hellas."
"We hope they've never seen them," Sostratos said softly.
By the way the Tarentine officer exclaimed in astonishment, that hope looked like coming true. "Go ahead, Aphrodite," the fellow called when he'd regained his composure. "Pass on into the Little Sea and tie up where it suits you. Good trading."
"Thanks." Menedemos let himself be mollified. And he had a question of his own: "What's the news in the war between Syracuse and Carthage?"
"Not good for the Hellenes," the Tarentine answered. "From what we hear, Carthage may be able to lay siege to Syracuse, maybe even by land and sea at once. I don't know what Agathokles can do to save his polis this time."
"That's not good," Menedemos said, to which the officer aboard the five dipped his head. Menedemos turned to the mercenaries he'd brought west from Cape Tainaron. "If you want to go on to Syracuse, you'll have to get there on your own. Doesn't look like we'll be sailing to Sicily this season."
"Not if you're smart, you won't," the Tarentine officer agreed. "If Syracuse falls, that will give Carthage rule over the whole island, and then she's liable to come after us next. I wish Alexander hadn't died before he could head west and smash up the Carthaginians the way he did the Persians."
Like any Rhodian, Menedemos worried more about Macedonian marshals left over from Alexander's day. But he politely said, "That is too bad," and added, "What are things like in the Hellenic cities along the west coast of Italy? The war between Syracuse and Carthage isn't troubling them, is it?"
"Not very much - they're too far away," the Tarentine answered. "The Samnites and the Romans are still brawling up in those parts, though. But that's a land war, and shouldn't trouble you - neither set of barbarians has much in the way of a fleet."
"Thanks," Menedemos said. The Tarentine didn't even think of pirates. In a five, he didn't need to unless he was hunting them. But any trader who sailed into Italian waters - any trader who ventured far from Rhodes, for that matter - had to keep them in mind.
Her three banks of oars working in smooth unison, the five glided away from the Aphrodite. Menedemos waved to Diokles. The oarmaster struck his bronze square with his mallet. The merchant galley's rowers, who'd rested while their captain talked with the Tarentine officer, began to stroke once more. Menedemos guided the ship through the narrow entranceway into the Little Sea, the enclosed lagoon that gave Taras perhaps the finest natural harbor in all of Great Hellas.
Taras itself lay on the eastern spit of land forming the mouth of the lagoon. Small boats, some of them close enough to let Menedemos see the nets they trailed in the water, dotted the calm surface of the Little Sea. "Do you suppose they actually catch anything?" Sostratos asked as he came up onto the poop deck. "Is there anything left to catch, after they've been fishing here so long and so hard?"
"There must be something, or they wouldn't try," Menedemos said.
His cousin pondered that, then slowly dipped his head. "I suppose you're right, but none of them will get rich."
"When did any fisherman anywhere ever get rich?" Menedemos returned. "Hang of a way to make a living." Sostratos agreed with that much more quickly than he had with Menedemos' earlier opinion.
Diokles pointed. "Look, skipper - there's a pier where we can tie up. See it? The one not far from the shipsheds where they keep their galleys dry, I mean."
"Yes, I see." Menedemos' eyes swept the harbor. "Looks good, and nobody else seems to be making for it, either." He pulled one steering-oar tiller forward, the other back, and guided the akatos toward the pier.