Over the Wine Dark Sea

  'I'd have to be careful in Taras, no doubt,' Menedemos said . . . carefully. 'No way to tell yet if things will be as bad there as they are in Halikarnassos. I hope they won't.'   'They'd better not be,' Sostratos said. 'I'm not sure you could bring a ship into the harbor at Halikarnassos without getting it burned to the waterline -  which is a shame, because the family's done a lot of business there over the years.'   Menedemos walked over to the rail, hiked up his tunic, and pissed into the Tyrrhenian Sea. Looking back over his shoulder, he answered, 'Believe me, I've had this conversation with my father a good many times.'   Then why didn't you listen to him? Sostratos wondered. Why didn't you try to look at things from the point of view of the man whose wife you were enjoying? He knew the answer well enough. Because when your lance stood, that was all you cared about. Some men were naturally bestial, and needed no Kirke to turn them into swine. But Menedemos wasn't really like that. He could think, and think quite well. Sometimes, though, he didn't bother.   He did handle the Aphrodite with his usual competence, sending her north up the coast. 'No good anchorage tonight,' he told the crew. 'No proper harbor, I mean. Plenty of beaches, but do you really want to risk putting her ashore?'   Almost as one man, the sailors tossed their heads. Italy was a populous land, swarming with Samnites and other barbarians. Nobody was eager to give robbers a chance to swoop down on the ship.   'Sensible fellows,' Menedemos said. Sostratos wondered what he would have said had the sailors wanted to beach the Aphrodite. Something interesting and memorable: of that Sostratos had no doubt. As things were, his cousin continued, 'Since we don't have to hurry to make a port tonight, we're going to spend some more time pretending we're a war galley.'   That didn't produce unanimous agreement from the crew. Sostratos hadn't thought it would. Practicing naval maneuvers was hard work, much harder than just sailing the akatos north would have been. And, of course, there was no guarantee the sailors would need what they were practicing. If they didn't, they would have put in all that effort for nothing.   Of course, if they didn't practice and ended up needing to fight, that would carry its own penalty, too: a penalty worse than blistered hands and weary backs. Sostratos could see that as plainly as he could look down and see his feet on the deck. He wondered why it wasn't obvious to everyone.   But the grumbling wasn't too bad. Before long, the Aphrodite zigged first one way, then the other. She spun in her own length, moving much faster than she had when turning back toward Hipponion after the pentekonter sheered off. 'Starboard oars -  in!' Diokles shouted, and the rowers on that side of the ship pulled their oars inboard at the same time.   The oarmaster glanced at Menedemos, who grinned back at him. 'I've seen triremes where they didn't do it so smoothly,' Menedemos said. Sostratos dipped his head.   'Same here.' Diokles turned back to the rowers. 'Resume!' The starboard oars went back into the water in the same unison with which they'd left it. The keleustes let the men row for a few strokes, then shouted, 'Portside oars -  in!' This time, the maneuver proved less successful; a couple of oars came in slower than they might have.   'That's not so