The Gryphon's Skull

That thought had hardly crossed his mind before Menedemos, who as captain of the akatos had the final word, gave it: “Sir, we say yes.

“Good. I thought you would, once I made sure you weren't really on Antigonos' side,” Ptolemaios said. He snapped his fingers and called for a house slave. The man hurried away, returning with bread and oil and wine for Sostratos and Menedemos. Aside from trying to put us in fear, as long as he was feeling us out about Euxenides, he didn't want to eat with us, Sostratos realized.

“Sir, can we get a steering oar made before we sail?” Menedemos asked. “We're carrying one that's a makeshift, of green timber. It got us here, but...”

“I'll send a carpenter to your ship right away,” Ptolemaios said. He ordered another slave off with the message. “Anything else I can do for you? I want Polemaios back here as soon as may be.”

“The money,” Sostratos said.

Ptolemaios smiled. “Ah, yes—the money. Don't you worry about that. It will reach your ship before the day is out,”

Sostratos believed him. A lot of men, even those who had a great deal, would have lied about such a sum. Others would have haggled endlessly. Ptolemaios himself had haggled endlessly over the tiger skin. The skin, though, had been something he wanted, but not something he felt he had to have. Getting Antigonos' nephew here to Kos was different.

Something else occurred to Sostratos: “How will Polemaios know we're working for you, sir? How do we convince him we're not in his uncle's pay, or Kassandros'?”

“I said you were a clever fellow, didn't I?” Ptolemaios beamed at him. “I'll give you a letter and seal it with my eagle.” He held out his right fist. On one thick finger he wore a gold signet ring whose design was an eagle like the ones on the reverse of his coins. “It'll come to your ship with the first installment of the money. Anything else?”

After glancing at Menedemos, Sostratos tossed his head. “No, sir. I think that's everything.”

“Good enough, then.” Ptolemaios was all business. “Would you care for anything else to eat or drink? No? Do you need Alypetos to take you back down to the harbor? No? Very good, very good. A pleasure talking to you.”

The two Rhodians found themselves on the street in front of Ptolemaios' residence in a matter of moments. “A talent of silver!” Menedemos said softly.

“We'll earn it,” Sostratos answered. “We're running the gauntlet for him.”

“We can do it.” Menedemos sounded confident—but then, he usually did. He went on, “What we need to do, though, is stop at Pixodaros' home on the way to the ship. We want to make sure we get the silk aboard before Ptolemaios' men finish their deliveries.”

“Right,” Sostratos said. “And we'd better hurry, too, because I don't think they'll waste much time.”

“I don't, either,” Menedemos said. As they headed toward the harbor, he went on, “Now, was it two streets up and three over from the seaside, or the other way round?”

“Three up and two over,” Sostratos answered. “Why can't you remember something like that?”

“I don't know, my dear,” Menedemos answered. “But I don't need to bother, not when I've got you around.” It was praise, of a sort— about as much as Sostratos ever got from his cousin. They went down toward the sea together.

5

As the Aphrodite made her way north and west, the rowers taking turns at the oars when the wind faltered, Menedemos waited for the trouble he was sure he would have. He'd guessed it would come before the end of their first day out of Kos, and his guess proved a good one. Not long after noon, Sostratos ascended to the poop deck. He peered off to starboard at the island of Kalymnos, then ahead toward the smaller, more distant island of Lebinthos, where they'd probably pass the night. He coughed a couple of times.

“I know what you're going to say,” Menedemos told him. “The answer is no.”

His cousin jerked in surprise. “How do you know what I'm going to ask you?”

“Because, O best one, you're transparent as air,” Menedemos answered. “You're going to say something like, 'We could stop in Athens on the way up to Khalkis. It wouldn't take long, and we could get rid of the gryphon's skull.' Aren't you?”

Sostratos turned red as a roof tile. “Well, what if I am?” he muttered. His voice gained strength: “It's true.”

“So it is,” Menedemos said. “But we've got forty minai waiting for us in Kos. How much do you suppose that precious skull will bring?”

“If we're lucky, something on the order of six minai,” Sostratos answered.

“Lucky? That'd take a miracle from the gods,” Menedemos said. “Who'd be mad enough to pay such money for an old bone?”

What he meant was, No one would pay such money for an old bone. Sostratos understood him perfectly well, too. But he said, “You're not always as smart as you think you are. Damonax son of Polydoros offered me that much back on Rhodes.”