Sostratos didn't have to ponder that for very long before he said, 'You're probably right. Better safe than sorry.' 'Just what I thought myself,' Menedemos said. 'I'm going to wear my sword, too. And you ought to dig yours out and belt it on.' 'Me?' That hadn't occurred to Sostratos. 'But I'm a hopeless dub when it comes to fighting.' 'You know that, and I know that, but Herennius Egnatius doesn't know it,' Menedemos said. 'All he knows is that you're taller than anybody has any business being and that you'll have a sword on your belt. Nobody who hasn't seen you working in the gymnasion wants any trouble with you.' The obvious implication was that anyone who had seen Sostratos at his exercises wouldn't worry about him very much. Since the obvious implication was true, he said no more than, 'Let me rummage through my gear. I hope I didn't leave the blade back on the Aphrodite.' 'You'd better not have!' Menedemos exclaimed. 'Taras is a civilized city,' Sostratos said with dignity. 'Am I a barbarian, to go armed inside a polis?' But then, automatically looking at the other side of things, he went on, 'Of course, Taras isn't an ordinary polis, like the ones back in Hellas, not with the Italian barbarians just over the border. And there are some towns farther north that used to be Hellenic, but that the Italians have overrun.' 'Thanks for the history lesson, but save it for another time,' Menedemos said dryly. 'What you need to do now is find that sword.' Sostratos went through the two duffel bags he'd brought from the ship. Somewhat to his own surprise, he discovered the sword at the bottom of the second one. The bronze scabbard slapped against his left thigh after he put on the sword belt. He felt as if he should lean a little to the right to compensate for the weight of blade and sheath. Menedemos, by contrast, looked quite impressively martial with a sword on his hip. 'What I wish I had is a hoplite's spear,' he said. 'But there's not much point to bringing one aboard ship, is there?' Someone knocked on the door to the rented house. 'If that's the Samnite here so soon, I wish you had a spear, too,' Sostratos said. But it wasn't - it was Aristeidas, back from the Aphrodite with half a dozen men, Diokles among them. 'So you've sold a couple of birds, have you?' the oarmaster said. 'That'll make a nice pile of silver, I expect. Don't blame you a bit for wanting to make sure you get it.' He carried a stout, iron-headed club in place of a sword. Sostratos wouldn't have wanted to stand against him. A couple of the sailors looked a little the worse for wear from wine, but they all seemed ready to fight if it came to that. Sostratos hoped it wouldn't. But his cousin was right: being ready for trouble made it less likely. Half an hour later, another knock sounded. Sostratos opened the door again. There stood Herennius Egnatius. He had a sword on his hip, too. The four stocky, broad shouldered men at his back didn't look like slaves - they looked like soldiers. They all wore helmets, three of bronze, one of iron. One of them did carry a spear; the
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