His father pointed to the leather sack that held the rest of the emeralds, “Where do you think you can get the best price for those?”
“Well, Sostratos is wild to go to Athens on account of his gryphon's skull.”
“That thing.” Philodemos snorted once more, on a different note. “He ought to pay for it from his personal funds instead of sticking the business with the cost.”
“He thinks he can get these two different schools of philosophy bidding against each other,” Menedemos said.
His father snorted again, “Moonshine, nothing else but.” “I don't know,” Menedemos said. “You never can tell with philosophers. Who can guess what they might want, and how much they'd pay for it?” He quoted from Aristophanes' Clouds:
He couldn't held smiling. He loved Aristophanes' absurdities.
“Cresses?” his father said. “What's he talking about, philosophy or salad?”
“Some of each, I think,” Menedemos answered. “But Athens has some of the best jewelers in the world. I don't know what philosophers will pay for a stone skull, but I think jewelers will pay plenty for emeralds.”
Philodemos pursed his lips. “You may be right,” he said at last. “If you can get to Athens, that is.”
Menedemos thumped his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Oi-moi! That reminds me, Father.” He passed on the news he'd got from Moiragenes at the harbor.
“Ptolemaios has Xanthos, you say?” Philodemos whistled. “There's all of Lykia, near enough, stolen away from Antigonos just like that.” He snapped his fingers.
“And Kaunos is next on the list,” Menedemos said. “The fight between the marshals is so close now, we can see it from here.”
“This is not good for Rhodes, not good at all,” his father said. “The last thing we want is for the war to come to our door. The longer it stays close to us, the likelier someone will try to kick the door down.”
That thought had occurred to Menedemos, too. He didn't like agreeing with his father. It didn't happen very often, so he seldom needed to worry about it. Here, though, he found himself saying, “I know. It's not easy staying a free and autonomous—a really free and really autonomous—polls these days. It puts me in mind of being a sprat in the middle of a school of hungry tunny, if you want to know the truth.”
“I won't quarrel with you,” Philodemos said: again, no small concession, coming from him. When it comes to Rhodes, we can see eye to eye, Menedemos thought. When it comes to the two of us. . .
He wished he hadn't suggested that his father mount the emerald and give it to Baukis. His father was liable to tell her he'd done so, as proof he wasn't worried about sharing an inheritance with any sons she might bear. And she might even take it that way, and be relieved.
Or she might think, Menedemos gave me this lovely stone. And if she thought that, what would she do then? And what would he?
3
Sostratos had already checked everything aboard the Aphrodite three different times. That didn't keep him from checking things once more. There was the gryphon's skull, securely wrapped in canvas and stowed near the poop. All they were waiting for was a few more sailors and some fresh water. “Then,” Sostratos said, as if the old, old bone could understand, “people will try to figure out what to make of you.”
From his station on the raised poop deck, Menedemos called, “Are you talking to that polluted thing? You need a hetaira to take your mind off what you're doing.”
“Screwing isn't the answer to everything,” Sostratos said with dignity.
“If it isn't, you tell me what is,” his cousin retorted.
Before Sostratos could reply—and, very likely, before the argument could heat up-—a man standing on the pier said, “Hail.”
“Hail,” Sostratos and Menedemos said together. Even as Menedemos asked, “What can we do for you?” Sostratos found himself disliking the newcomer on sight. The fellow was close to forty, medium-sized, handsome, well built, and carried himself like an athlete. Jealous? Me? Sostratos thought, and then, Well, maybe a little.
“I hear you're sailing north and west,” the stranger said. “Will you be putting in at Miletos?” He had an odd accent, basically Doric but with a hissing, sneezy overlay. He's spent a lot of time in Lykia, Sostratos thought.
“Hadn't planned to,” Sostratos said blandly, “but I might.”
The man on the quay dipped his head. “It's like that, is it? What's your fare, then?”
Menedemos flicked Sostratos a glance. As toikharkhos, Sostratos had the job of charging as much as the passenger could bear to pay. Instead of answering directly, he asked a question of his own: “What's your name, O best one?”
“Me? I'm Euxenides of Phaselis,” the stranger replied.
That made Menedemos blink. Sostratos smiled to himself. The fellow's accent and his bearing had made Sostratos think that was who he was. And Antigonos held Miletos. One of his officers might well want to go there. Sostratos enjoyed being right no less than any other man. He said, “Perhaps you should know: it's almost certain we will put in at Kos.”
Kos was Ptolemaios' chief base in the Aegean. Euxenides asked, “Are you saying you'd betray me there? That's not how neutrals should behave.”
“No, nothing of the sort,” Sostratos replied. “But you'd best remember, we'll have a big crew on board—all our rowers. They will go into the taverns, and they will gossip. I don't think anyone could stop them,”
“And Ptolemaios' men will have ears around to hear such things,” Euxenides finished for him. Sostratos dipped his head. Euxenides shrugged. “Chance I take. I'm not of a rank to make it likely that anyone much would have heard of me. How much for my passage? You still haven't said.”
“To Miletos?” Sostratos plucked at his beard, considering. “Twenty drakhmai should do it.”
“That's outrageous!” Euxenides exclaimed.
Most of the time, Sostratos would have asked half as much, and might have let himself be haggled down from there. Now he just shrugged and answered, “I have two questions for you, O marvelous one. First, when do you think another ship will sail from Rhodes to Miletos? And second, don't you think a trip to Miletos puts us in danger of ending up in the middle of a sea fight between Antigonos' ships and Ptolemaios'?”
Euxenides looked around the great harbor, as if hoping to find another ship on the point of sailing. There weren't more than a handful of akatoi in port, though, and he would have a long, slow journey on a round ship that had to tack its way up to Miletos against the prevailing northerly winds.
With a scowl, he said, “You're enjoying this, aren't you?”
“No one goes into business intending to lose money,” Sostratos replied.
“Twenty drakhmai? Pheu!”Euxenides sounded thoroughly disgusted. But he said, “All right, twenty it is. When do you sail?”