keleustes said. 'We're a galley, after all. We could do it.' 'We could, sure enough.' Menedemos wished Diokles hadn't put the idea in his mind. It was tempting. But he had no trouble finding reasons it wouldn't work. 'You said it yourself - we'll be slow as a cart-ox with all this grain aboard. And my bet is, Rhegion would send her navy after us if we made off with the grain and the money. This Onasimos fellow looks to pull a lot of weight here.' 'Well, so he does,' Diokles said. 'All right, then. I'd sooner pray for fair winds than foul, anyway.' 'So would I,' Menedemos said. Sostratos thought of himself as a modern, rational man. He'd been embarrassed to spend the past couple of days praying for contrary winds. And he'd been embarrassed all over again to have his prayer fail so ignominiously, for a fine breeze blew from the north this morning. So much for the gods, he thought, and a solid point for rationalism. Menedemos was up before dawn, too, smiling at the sky. He'd probably been praying for fair winds, so his belief in the gods was bound to be vindicated, too. That thought made Sostratos grumpier than ever. But, instead of gloating, Menedemos just pointed to the thin crescent moon rising a little ahead of the sun. 'Another month almost done,' he said. 'Sure enough.' Sostratos peered into the brightening twilight between that little cheese-paring of a moon and the horizon. 'And there's Aphrodite's wandering star.' 'Why, so it is,' Menedemos said. 'Sure enough, your eyes aren't so bad if you can pick it out against the bright sky. The sun's almost up.' 'I knew where to look,' Sostratos answered with a shrug. 'It's been sliding down the morning sky toward the sun for weeks now. Before too long, we'll see it in the evening instead. People used to think the evening appearance was a different star from the morning one - the same with Hermes' wandering star.' 'What do you mean, used to?' Menedemos said. 'Half our sailors probably still believe that.' 'I meant educated people,' Sostratos said. 'The sailors are fine men but . . ..' Most of them thought of little save women (or, with a few, boys), wine, and tavern brawls. How does one talk with such people? he wondered. 'I like 'em fine,' Menedemos said. 'I know.' Sostratos did his best not to make that sound like a judgment. Still and all, what did it say about his cousin's taste? Menedemos didn't seem to notice Sostratos' tone, which was just as well. He said, 'We'll sail today.' 'I know.' Sostratos knew how unhappy he sounded, too, but he couldn't help it. 'Do you think we'll make Syracuse by nightfall?'
Вы читаете Over the Wine Dark Sea
