The Gryphon's Skull

“It. . . could be,” Aristarkhos said after another pause. Sostratos decided not to push any further; that was too likely to make an enemy. Aristarkhos turned back to Euxenides: “So you saw Ptolemaios' fleet go by, too, did you?”

“I certainly did,” Euxenides replied. “We were on the north coast of Telos. They couldn't have been more than fifteen or twenty stadia offshore as they went past. I counted fifty-five ships.”

How professional of you, Sostratos thought. No matter how useful Euxenides had been, he couldn't warm to the man, who struck him as almost too competent to tolerate. Aristarkhos dipped his head. “That sounds about right.” He frowned. “It must have been close to midday. Why were you still aground? Did you have trouble getting this ship back in the water?”

“It wasn't that,” Euxenides said. “We needed some repairs.”

“The steering oar and its housing,” Menedemos said. “Hurt 'em on a rock backing the akatos onto the beach, I'll tell you this, best one”—he was more polite to Aristarkhos than Sostratos had been— “if Antigonos doesn't need Euxenides, he can come to Rhodes and make a good living for himself as a ship's carpenter.”

“Euxenides the catapult man!” Aristarkhos exclaimed. Now his memory was fully jogged. “Not likely, Rhodian. Antigonos rewards men who are good at what they do, and Euxenides is one of the best.” Euxenides gave back half a bow, acknowledging the compliment.

“I believe it,” Menedemos said. Sostratos believed it, too. Whether he liked him or not, Euxenides was a consummate craftsman, an artist with adze and drill. If he was ignorant of anything having to do with woodworking, Sostratos couldn't imagine what it would be. He wondered if that made Euxenides also think he knew a great deal about matters in which he had less experience. He wouldn't have been surprised; that was the craftsman's besetting flaw, as Sokrates had pointed out in his Apology.

“I was worried about these Rhodians, too, but they treated me as well as if I were one of Ptolemaios' men,” Euxenides said, and Sostratos couldn't fault him for that. He went on, “They really did act as neutrals should, and I expect you'll show them every kindness here.” That expect

held the snap of command, and told Sostratos which of Antigonos' officers owned the higher rank.

“Just as you say,” Aristarkhos answered, still sounding unhappy about it. “For now, though, come with me, why don't you? We'll send a messenger to Antigonos first thing in the morning. He’ll be pleased to know you got away.”

Euxenides picked up the leather sack that held his worldly goods. “Thank you for my passage,” he said, waving first to Sostratos and then to Menedemos as he went up the gangplank to stand on the quay beside Aristarkhos.

“Thank you for your help on Telos,” Menedemos replied. Thank you for your help here, Sostratos thought. Maybe jealousy had

made him misjudge Euxenides. They could have made their own steering oar on the island, even if it wouldn't have been so perfect as the one the officer had turned out. But for Euxenides' acquaintance with Aristarkhos here in Knidos, though, things might have gone hard for them.

Aristarkhos asked, “What cargo are you carrying, Rhodians?”

“Perfume and purple dye,” Menedemos answered.

“Papyrus and ink,” Sostratos added. His cousin shot him a warning look. He realized he might have done better to keep quiet about the papyrus. It came from Egypt, Ptolemaios' stronghold. Reminding Antigonos' captain about it might cause trouble.

Aristarkhos only grunted. “Where are you bound?” he asked.

“Athens,” Sostratos and Menedemos said together. Sostratos wondered if that admission were wise. For the past eight years, Demetrios of Phaleron had ruled Athens as Kassandros' puppet, and Kassandros was no friend to Antigonos, either.

But Aristarkhos merely grunted again, remarking, “With that cargo, you would be.” He leaned forward, trying to see better as twilight thickened. “Will you stop at Kos on the way?”

Anther dangerous question. Lying might be safer, but also might be more dangerous. Sostratos decided to tell the truth, as calmly and reasonably as he could: “Of course we will, O best one. We are traders, and we are neutral. They make silk on Kos, and you can't get it anywhere else in the world. We'll buy some to take with us, and we'll sell crimson dye there,”

“When I left Rhodes bound for Miletos, they warned me ahead of time they planned to put in at Kos,” Euxenides said. “This was before we knew Ptolemaios' whole war fleet was heading that way.”

“All right, fair enough,” Aristarkhos said. His suspicions finally seemed to have dissolved. “Will you want to spend a day in the market square here before you go on?”