They gave Aristaion their sympathies one last time and left the potter’s shop. They hadn’t gone far before a woman started to shriek behind them. Wincing, Menedemos said, “Aristaion must have told his wife.”
“Yes,” Sostratos agreed. They walked on for a few more paces before he went on, “Let’s go back to your house or mine and get drunk, shall we? There’s nothing more we really have to do today, is there?”
“Nothing that won’t keep.” Menedemos put an arm around Sostratos’ shoulder. “That’s a good idea-the best one you’ve had all day, I’m sure.”
“Will we think so in the morning?” Sostratos asked.
Menedemos shrugged. “That will be in the morning. We’ll worry about it then.”
Sostratos opened his eyes and wished he hadn’t. The early-morning sunlight leaking in through the shutters pained him. His head hurt. His bladder seemed about to burst. He reached under the bed and found the chamber pot. After easing himself, he went to the window, opened the shutters, called, “Coming out!” to warn anyone walking by below, and flung the contents of the pot into the street.
Then, still moving slowly, he went downstairs and sat down in the cool, shadowed courtyard. A few minutes later, Threissa, the family’s redheaded Thracian slave girl, poked her snub nose into the courtyard. Sostratos waved to her. He saw her wondering if she could get away with pretending not to see and deciding she couldn’t. She came over to him. “What do you want, young master?” she asked in accented Greek.
Every so often, he took her to bed. She put up with that rather than enjoying it, one reason he didn’t do it more. It wasn’t what he had in mind now. He said, “Fetch me a cup of well-watered wine and a chunk of bread to go with it.”
Relief flowered on her face. “I do that,” she said, and hurried away. Some requests she minded much less than others. Sostratos didn’t even eye her backside as she went off to the kitchen, proof he’d drunk too much the day before. She soon returned with the wine and a barley roll. “Here you is. Roll just baked.”
Sure enough, it was still warm from the oven. “Thanks,” Sostratos said. He made as if to push her away. “Go on. I’m sure you’ve got plenty to do.” She nodded and left him by himself. He took a bite from the roll. It was nice and bland, just what his stomach needed. He sipped the wine, a little at a time. Bit by bit, his headache eased.
He’d almost finished breakfast when his father came downstairs. “Hail,” Lysistratos called. “How are you?”
“Better now than when I first got up,” Sostratos answered. “The wine helped.”
“Pity it’s not springtime,” Lysistratos said. “Raw cabbage is good for a thick head, but this is the wrong season.” He walked over and sat down beside his son. “I understand why you and Menedemos did what you did. Losing a man is hard. Sometimes telling his family he’s gone is even harder.”
“Yes.” Sostratos dipped his head. “His father was such a gentleman- and then, as we were leaving, his mother began to wail…” He grabbed the winecup and gulped the last couple of swallows.
“A bad business. A very bad business.” Lysistratos hesitated, then went on, “I hear you made something of a hero of yourself in the same fight.”
With a shrug, Sostratos said, “My archery isn’t hopeless. I should have shot more of the bandits, though. If I had, we wouldn’t have had to pay a call on Aristaion yesterday.” He wished he had more wine. What he’d already drunk had taken the edge off his headache, but another cup might take the edge off his thoughts. He looked around for Threissa, then decided it was just as well he didn’t see her. A man who started pouring it down early in the morning wouldn’t be worth much as the day wore along.
Lysistratos said, “What do you plan on doing today?”
“I’ll go over to see Damonax and settle accounts with him,” Sostratos answered. “The olive oil worked out better than I expected, but I’m not going to fill the Aphrodite up with it if we go to Athens next spring. That would be like taking crimson dye to Phoenicia. If he can’t see as much for himself, I’ll make it as plain as I have to.”
“I understand.” His father smiled. “I don’t think you’ll have to beat him about the head and shoulders, or anything of the sort. Uncle Philodemos and I made it plain to him that he pushed his luck this past spring. We let him get away with it once because of his own family’s debts, but we’re not going to let him be a permanent anchor weighing down our family’s profits.”
“Euge!” Sostratos said. “How did he take that?”
“Pretty well,” Lysistratos replied. “He is a charming fellow, no two ways about it.”
“Yes, but especially when he’s getting his way,” Sostratos said, which made his father laugh. He went on, “I hope I see Erinna when I’m there. Is she happy with Damonax?”
“She seems to be,” Lysistratos said. “And did you hear last night? She’s going to have a baby in a few months.”
Sostratos tossed his head. “No, I didn’t. That’s wonderful news! I know how much she wants a family.” He hesitated, then asked, “If it happens to be a girl, will they keep it or expose it?”
“I don’t know,” his father said. “I hope they’d keep it, but that’s Damonax’s choice, not mine.” He looked troubled. “It would be hard, very hard, for your sister finally to give birth and then to lose the baby.”
“I know. That’s just what I was thinking,” Sostratos said. But his father was right. That wasn’t anything where the two of them had a say. He ate the last bit of barley roll, then got to his feet. “I’ll head over there now. I’ve got the figures written down on a scrap of papyrus. With a little luck, I’ll catch Damonax before he’s gone to the agora or the gymnasion. Farewell, Father.”
“Farewell.” Lysistratos got up, too, and clapped him on the back. “You did very well in Phoenicia-on the whole voyage, from all I’ve heard. Don’t be too hard on yourself because you weren’t perfect. Perfection is for the gods.”
Everyone told Sostratos the same thing. He’d told it to himself a good many times, too. That he had to keep telling it to himself showed he still didn’t believe it. He wondered if he ever would. Shrugging, he headed for the door.
Damonax’s house lay in the western part of Rhodes, not far from the gymnasion. It was far larger and finer than Aristaion’s, and presented only a whitewashed wall and doorway to the outside world. Damonax, who made his money from lands outside the polis, didn’t need a shop at the front.
Munching on some raisins he’d bought from a street peddler, Sostratos knocked on the door. He remembered coming here during Erinna’s wedding celebration and, before that, when he’d shown Damonax the gryphon’s skull. He sighed. If he’d taken six minai of silver from the man who would become his brother-in-law, the pirates in the strait between Euboia and Andros wouldn’t have had the chance to steal the skull.
He knocked again. “I’m coming!” a slave shouted in good Greek. A moment later, the fellow opened a little barred shutter set into the door at eye level and peered out. “Oh, hail, Master Sostratos,” he said, and opened the door itself. “Come in, sir. The master will be glad to see you.”
“Thank you,” Sostratos said. “I hope Damonax is well? And my sister, too? I hear from my father she’s expecting a baby?”
“Yes, that’s right,” the slave answered. “They’re both as well as anyone could hope. Here, sir, it’s a nice day. Why don’t you sit down on this bench in the courtyard? I’ll let Damonax know you’re here.” He raised his voice to a shout: “Master! Erinna’s brother is back from overseas!”
Erinna’s brother, Sostratos thought with wry amusement. That was probably how he’d be known here for the rest of his life. Well, fair enough. He perched on the bench the slave had suggested and looked around. The first things his eye lit upon were the flowerbed and herb garden in the courtyard. He smiled. They looked much more like those back at his family’s house than they had the last time he was here. Erinna was an enthusiastic gardener and was making her mark felt.