'Truth,' Menedemos said. But Sostratos tossed his head. 'I don't think so.' 'What? Why not?' Menedemos demanded. 'Wrecking a trireme with an akatos?' Sostratos said. 'Be serious, O cousin of mine. Would you believe a story like that if you heard it?' Again, Menedemos thought for a moment. Then he too solemnly tossed his head. Sostratos was glad to sail south past the island of Kapreai. He doubted whether any Roman fleet, no matter how aggressive, would ever dare to come deep into Great Hellas. And, after beating a trireme, he didn't worry nearly so much about piratical pentekonters as he had before. Two of the sailors Roman arrows had hurt quickly began to heal. The third had taken a wound in the belly. Even though the injury didn't look too bad, he began to run a high fever. It soon became clear he wouldn't live. The men began to mutter among themselves. Few ritual pollutions were worse than having a corpse on board. 'What are we going to do?' Menedemos murmured to Sostratos, not wanting anyone else to hear. 'It's as if they're forgetting we beat that trireme.' 'Let's put him in the boat,' Sostratos answered. 'He's too far gone to care what happens to him, and that way the Aphrodite won't be polluted when he dies. We can either have a priest cleanse the boat when we put in at a polis or else, if we have to, just buy a new one.' Menedemos stared at him, then stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. 'Those brains of yours are good for something after all - every once in a while, anyhow.' 'Why did you add that last little bit?' Sostratos asked. 'To keep you from walking around with a swelled head,' his cousin answered with a wicked grin. 'Thank you so much,' Sostratos said, which only made Menedemos' grin wider. A couple of sailors eased the man with the belly wound down into the merchant galley's boat. Sure enough, he was so lost in his battles with demons only he could see, he hardly noticed being moved. They rigged an awning with sailcloth to keep the sun off him. Every so often, someone went down into the boat to give him watered wine from a dipper. He drank a little, but spilled more. 'Sail ho!' Aristeidas sang out. 'Sail ho off the starboard bow!' Everyone jumped. Sostratos' heart began to thud in his chest. The last time the lookout spied a sail, they'd been lucky to escape with their lives, let alone their freedom. Along with the whole crew - since they were moving under sail, they didn't have anyone facing backwards at the oars - he anxiously peered southward. After only a few minutes, relief flowered in him. 'That's a round ship's sail,' he said. 'It's bigger than anything a galley would carry.'
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