Over the Wine-Dark Sea

"Yes, sir," Menedemos agreed. "But this wasn't a fight with pirates. The Romans sent a fleet of triremes to raid a Samnite town called Pompaia just as we were sailing away from it, and one of the triremes took after us."

Philodemos raised an eyebrow. "And you got away from it? That must have taken some fine sailing. I wasn't sure you had it in you."

Menedemos grappled with that, trying to decide whether it came out a compliment. Sostratos spoke up before his cousin could: "We didn't get away from it, Uncle. We wrecked it -  used our hull to break its starboard oars. After we crippled it, then we got away."

"Really?" Philodemos said. Not only Sostratos and Menedemos but also a good many sailors amplified the story. Menedemos' father stroked his chin. "That does sound like a smart piece of work," he allowed.

"There," Sostratos hissed. "You see?" But Menedemos ignored him.

He was miffed, but only for a moment, for he saw his own father coming down the wharf toward the Aphrodite. He waved again. Lysistratos waved back. "Hail, son," he said. "Good to see you again. How did everything go?"

Uncle Philodemos didn't say it was good to see Menedemos, went through Sostratos' mind. He may have thought it, but he didn't say it. "Hail," he answered. "We're here. We made money. And we got rid of all the peafowl and all of their chicks." Relentless honesty made him add, "Well, almost all the peafowl. One peahen jumped into the sea. That was my fault."

"Many good-byes to them," Menedemos said. "They're gods-detested birds, no matter how pretty the peacock was. The Italiotes and barbarians who bought them are welcome to them, believe you me they are."

"They did make nuisances of themselves in our courtyards, didn't they?" Lysistratos said. "But I'm sure the two of you will be glad to come home and sleep in your own beds again. That was always one of the things I liked best about getting back from a trading run, anyhow."

"I don't know, Father," Sostratos said. "I've spent so much time on the planks of the poop deck, the mattress will probably feel strange the first few days. And then there was the night on the sacks of wheat when we were going down to Syracuse."

"Syracuse?" Lysistratos and Philodemos said together. Menedemos' father went on, "What's the news from Syracuse?" and Sostratos realized the Aphrodite was the first ship coming into Rhodes with word of everything that had happened in the west.

He and his cousin told the story together. Menedemos told more of it. Of the two of them, he'd always had the quicker tongue as well as the quicker feet. Sostratos got his chances to talk after Philodemos' frequent questions, for each one would throw Menedemos off his stride for a little while. Questions from Lysistratos didn't faze Menedemos at all, Sostratos noted.

When the two young men finished, Philodemos clicked his tongue between his teeth. "You took some long chances there, son," he said, his tone suggesting he might have other remarks when not so many people could hear them.

"I know, sir, but we got by with them, and they ended up paying off well," Menedemos replied, with something less than the cheeky brashness he'd shown through most of the journey.

"Just how much money did you make?" Philodemos asked. Menedemos looked toward Sostratos. Sostratos had told his cousin the answer, but Menedemos had no confidence in it. Here in his home port, Sostratos saw no point in keeping it a secret. He told his uncle, and had the satisfaction of watching the older man's jaw drop. "You're joking," Philodemos said.

"And five oboloi," Sostratos added. "No, I'm not joking at all."

"Euge!" his father said, and clapped his hands together to show just how well he thought it was done. "That's . . . splendid is the only word I can find." Lysistratos clapped again. "I'm proud of both of you."

"We also still have a little silk and a little Ariousian and some perfume on board," Sostratos said. "They won't bring so much here as they would have in Great Hellas, but they'll bring something."

Lysistratos beamed. Even Philodemos didn't look too unhappy. Sostratos waved to Himilkon the Phoenician, who was heading over to find out the news. We did it, he thought. We really did it, and now, at last, we're back. It feels even better than I thought it would.

Menedemos sat in the andron in his house, sipping from a cup of wine and wishing he were somewhere, anywhere, else. Even the men's chamber itself left him disappointed. Here in Rhodes, it was pretty fine. Set it next to Gylippos' in Taras, though, and it wasn't so much of a much.

But he wouldn't have minded the andron so much if his father hadn't been sitting a couple of cubits away glaring at him. "You idiot," Philodemos said. "What on earth or under it were you thinking of?"

"Profit," Menedemos answered in a low voice. His father always managed to put him in the wrong. With a flash of defiance, he added, "We got it, too. We got a lot of it."