Over the Wine-Dark Sea

"I'd had in mind heading up to Neapolis," Menedemos said. "You know about that -  I told you when we were in port together. But who knows how many Roman ships are prowling that stretch of the Tyrrhenian Sea right now? Better to head back south, I figured, so that's what I'm doing."

"You figured?" Sostratos said under his breath. This time, Menedemos didn't hear him, which might have been just as well. By the way his cousin spoke, Menedemos was convinced coming south had been his own idea and no one else's. Sostratos knew better.

Or do I just remember differently? he wondered. After a moment, he tossed his head. He knew what had happened there after he talked Menedemos out of ramming the Roman trireme. But his cousin sang another song altogether.

If -  no, when -  I write my history, how will I be able to judge which of two conflicting stories is the true one? he thought. Both men will be certain they have it right, and each will call the other a liar. How did Herodotos and Thoukydides and Xenophon decide who was right? The next time he looked at their works, he would have to think about that.

Meanwhile, Leptines was saying, "That's smart, getting out of there. Polluted barbarians are everywhere these days. They might as well be cockroaches. We Hellenes should have squashed them before they got so strong." A few days before, he'd extolled the Pompaians. Would he remember that if Sostratos reminded him of it? Not likely, and Sostratos knew it full well.

"Pity you had to work so hard just to turn back," Menedemos said.

"Maybe so, but I thank you for your news," Leptines replied. "Going forward would have been a bigger pity."

"Have a safe trip south," Sostratos said. Leptines waved to him. So did a couple of the round ship's sailors. He waved back. Menedemos swung the Aphrodite to catch the wind once more. She began to glide over the waves. Leptines' ship wasn't nearly so handy. Sostratos looked back past the sternpost for some time before he saw the other ship also heading away from trouble instead of toward it.

Even though the round ship's sail was far bigger than the akatos',and even though the breeze filled it well, the Aphrodite easily pulled away. When Sostratos remarked on that, Menedemos said, "I should hope so, by the gods. If that pig outsailed us, I think I'd go home and drink hemlock."

"It still seems strange," Sostratos said.

"Nothing strange about it," Menedemos insisted. "War galleys are faster than we are, because we're beamier than they are. They cut the water like a sharp knife. We cut it like a dull one. And as for that polluted round ship -  won't even a dull knife cut water better than a drinking cup?"

"Sokrates couldn't do better, O best one," Sostratos said. "I find no flaws in your logic."

"Thank you very much." Menedemos looked smug.

Sostratos wasn't about to let him get away with that. "Why do you only think so straight when you've got ships on your mind? Why do you start acting like a madman as soon as you smell perfume?"

"I don't know," Menedemos answered.

"Well, at least you don't deny it," Sostratos said.

"Ships aren't women, though," his cousin said. "Even if we give them feminine names, they aren't. Most of the time, a ship will do what you want. Oh, you can make a mistake, but you usually know what's what. But with women . . . My dear fellow! You can't know what a woman will do next, for she usually doesn't know herself. So what's the point to logic?"

Sostratos stared at him. "That's the most logical argument for illogic I've ever heard," he said at last.

"And I thank you again." Menedemos grinned. He'd won that round, and he knew it.

When they got down to the little town of Laos once more the following evening, a ship so like Leptines' was tied up at a quay, Sostratos wondered if the plump merchant skipper had somehow stolen a march on the Aphrodite. But the skipper of this round ship proved to be a scrawny fellow named Xenodokos. He said, "If you've got more greed than brains, you might want to think about getting down to Rhegion quick as you can."

Sostratos hoped he had more brains than greed. Because of that, a certain amount of horror went through him when he heard Menedemos ask, "Oh? Why?"

"Because Agathokles of Syracuse has men getting up a fleet of grain ships there," Xenodokos answered. "He's going to try and sneak 'em past the Carthaginian fleet so his polis doesn't starve. He'll pay gods only know how many times the going rate, even for a load from a skinny little ship like yours."

"And what will he pay if the Carthaginians catch us?" Sostratos asked.

"Syracuse," Xenodokos said.

Sostratos looked at his cousin. He didn't care for the gleam in Menedemos' eye. "The ship," he said pointedly.

"I know, the ship." Menedemos sounded impatient. "Remember, we have to go by Rhegion anyway." Sostratos remembered. His heart sank.

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