Kroton boasted the only real harbor between Taras and Rhegion - and to reach Rhegion, the Aphrodite would have to round the south-westernmost tip of Italy and start up into the strait. If the Syracusans or Carthaginians had ships in the neighborhood, that wouldn't be a healthy thing to do. Menedemos worked the steering oars to change course to the southwest. At his command, the sailors swung the yard to take best advantage of the breeze on the new course. Had he not given the command, they might have done it on their own. They knew what wanted doing, and went about it without any fuss. The harbor mouth faced northeast, so the men didn't even have to go to the oars to bring the Aphrodite into port. But the water inside the harbor remained choppy, for Kroton wasn't a town with all the latest improvements, and had built no moles to break the force of the sea. A lot of boats and even ships had simply been dragged up onto the beach, too, but Menedemos managed to find space at one of the piers. 'What do you hear from Sicily?' he called to a skinny fellow standing on the quay. 'Who're you, and what news have you got?' the Krotonite returned, his Doric accent much like that of Taras. 'We're out of Rhodes,' Menedemos said. He gave his own name, and told of the deaths of Roxane and Alexandros, and of Polemaios' defection from Antigonos, his uncle. The local soaked up the news from the east like a sponge soaking up water. When Menedemos finished giving it, he repeated his own question: 'What's the word from Sicily?' 'Well, the Carthaginians still have Syracuse harbor shut up pretty tight,' the Krotonite answered. Menedemos dipped his head. He'd expected that; were it not true, he'd have seen more Syracusan ships in Taras. The dock lounger went on, 'The barbarians have an army moving to lay siege to the place, too.' 'Does it look like falling?' Menedemos asked anxiously; that would be a disaster. With a shrug, the Krotonite said, 'Who knows? They do say Agathokles pulled a fast one on his enemies in town, though.' 'Ah?' Menedemos pricked up his ears. 'Tell me.' 'Rich folks in Syracuse never have fancied Agathokles,' the local said. Menedemos dipped his head; he knew that. The Krotonite continued, 'He said everybody who wasn't ready to stand siege and suffer should get out of town while the getting was good. Well, a lot of the folk who couldn't stand him upped and left - and as soon as they were gone, he sent a bunch of mercenaries after 'em and killed 'em all. Once they were dead, he confiscated their property and freed all their slaves who he reckoned could fight in his army.' Down in the waist of the Aphrodite, Sostratos let out a soft whistle. 'That's one way to get your polis behind you.' 'So it is,' Menedemos said. 'Not the way I'd choose, maybe, but one way. I'll tell you this: nobody who thinks Agathokles is wrong will dare open his mouth to say so, not for quite a while he won't.' 'No,' Sostratos agreed. 'But then, no one would be much inclined to argue with him as long as the Carthaginians are outside the walls. No polis can afford factional strife with an enemy at the gates.' His expression went bleak.
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