The Gryphon's Skull

“From creditors, I'm afraid,” his father answered. “Damonax's family sank a lot of silver into part of a cargo on a round ship—and the ship either met pirates or it sank, because it never got to Alexandria. The year's olive crop is collateral.”

“How did you find that out?” Damonax demanded. “Our creditors swore they wouldn't blab.”

“They didn't,” Lysistratos said. “That's why I needed so long to figure this out. But I'm not wrong, am I, even if I pieced things together from hither and yon?”

“No, you're not wrong,” Damonax said bitterly. “It's a pity, though—the match would have been a good one.”

Sostratos got to his feet. “Father, walk out into the courtyard with me for a moment, would you?” he said.

Looking a little surprised, Lysistratos followed him out of the andron. In a low voice, he asked, “Well? What would you say to me that you don't care to have Damonax hear?”

“Only that he would be a good match for Erinna, if he'll settle for the dowry we want,” Sostratos answered. “I do think he wants her for herself as well as for the money; he told me how her first husband praised her as a housekeeper to him. And Erinna does want to marry again, and we saw matches for her aren't so easy to come by when that other family chose a younger girl in her place.”

His father looked thoughtful. “Something to that,” he admitted. “And Damonax would be beholden to us for going forward, and his family's fortunes may recover.” He sighed. “You're right about your sister—she does want children of her own. A father's not supposed to put much weight on such things, but how can I help it?” He dipped his head in sudden decision. “If he agrees to the dowry, I'll make the match.”

When Sostratos and Lysistratos came back into the andron, Damonax rose. “I'll be going,” he said. “Not much point to any more talk, is there?” Pained resignation had replaced bitterness.

“That depends,” Lysistratos said. “You're not going to squeeze more than two talents' worth of dowry out of me, but we'll go on from there if you can live with that.”

Damonax sank back onto his stool as if his legs didn't want to support him. “You would do that?” he whispered.

“Hard to blame a man too much for wanting to keep his family's money problems to himself,” Sostratos said. Not all Hellenes would have agreed with him, but he was an intensely private man himself, and understood the urge to put such embarrassments in chests, as it were, and hope no one else found out about them.

His father said, “Tell me one thing very plainly, Damonax: you've lost your crop for the year, is it not so, but not the land itself?”

“Yes.” Jerkily, Damonax dipped his head. “Yes, that is so. I swear it by Zeus and all the other gods.”

“All right, then,” Lysistratos said. “You people can recover from that, and even if two talents is less than you would have wanted, it will go a long way toward keeping you and your family afloat.”

“Thank you, sir,” Damonax said. “I am in your debt—we're all in your debt.” Sostratos smiled to himself. That was what he'd had in mind. Gratitude and a sense of obligation didn't always last, of course, but sometimes they did. Damonax went on, “The marriage will give you legitimate grandchildren, sir.”

“That's the point of marriage, after all,” Sostratos' father said. “Now go on home. Make sure your kin are satisfied, and we'll take it from there.”

After Damonax had left, Erinna came down from the women's quarters. When Sostratos told her of the agreement, she whooped with delight and threw herself into his arms. “This is wonderful!” she said. “It's like a second chance. It is a second chance.”

“May everything go as well as it possibly can, my dear,” Sostratos said. “Gods grant it be so.”

“Gods grant it indeed,” Lysistratos said. He eyed Sostratos. “One day before too long, son, we'll find you a match, too. Thirty's a good age for a man to wed, and you're getting there.”

“Me?” Sostratos hadn't thought about it much. Marriage seemed neither real nor important to him. He patted his sister on the shoulder. She wanted a home to manage, but every port on the Inner Sea was his. The gods made me a man, not a woman; a Hellene, not a barbarian, he thought. Truly, I'm the lucky one.

HISTORICAL NOTE