'You're right,' he said. 'I hate to admit it - you have no idea how much I hate to admit it - but you're right. Let's get out of here while the getting's good.' 'Thank you,' Sostratos said softly. 'I'm not doing it for you,' Menedemos said. 'Believe me, I'm not doing it for myself, either. I'm doing it for the ship.' 'This far from home, that's the best reason,' Sostratos said. Menedemos only shrugged, despite watching Diokles dip his head. He'd made his decision. That didn't mean he had to like it. The Romans on their trireme's deck gawked at the Aphrodite as she passed safely out of arrow range. Menedemos thought some rowers were gaping out through the oar ports, too. 'Got a little lesson today, didn't you?' he shouted at them; though they were a long way off and probably didn't speak Greek anyhow. His rowers were much less restrained. They blistered the Romans with curses they'd picked up all over the Inner Sea. 'I don't suppose we're heading up to Neapolis any more,' Sostratos remarked. 'What? Why not?' Menedemos said in surprise. As if to an idiot child, his cousin answered, 'Because how do we know that that's the only Roman fleet around? Suppose four triremes come after us the next time. What do we do then?' 'Oh.' Menedemos blinked. He rubbed his chin as he thought. At last, he said, 'Well, best one, you're right again. Twice in one day - I didn't think you had it in you.' He grinned at Sostratos' splutters, then went on, 'I hadn't thought it through. I was too busy dealing with that one bastard.' 'And you did it splendidly,' Sostrastos said. 'I thought we were doomed.' So did I, Menedemos thought. Aloud, he answered, 'If you've got only two chances - one bad, the other worse - you do the best you can with the bad one.' He raised his voice to call out to the sailors: 'Lower the sail from the yard. We're heading back down south, and the wind should be with us most of the way.' Men leaped to obey. They'd leaped ever since Aristeidas first spotted the Roman triremes. Then it had been out of fear. Now . . . Now it's because they admire me, Menedemos thought. And after what I did, they should. One of the sailors said, 'Pity we can't land and set up a trophy to remember this by.' That only made Menedemos prouder. He showed it in an offhand way: 'The barbarians wouldn't know what it meant, anyhow, and they'd just plunder it. We have our trophy, perfect in memory forever.' 'That's right, by the gods,' Diokles said. 'And we've got a story we can drink on in every wineshop from Karia to Carthage, too.'
Вы читаете Over the Wine Dark Sea
