'Fortune is a fickle goddess, too,' Sostratos said. 'Remember what happened to the Athenians who came here a hundred years ago. Most of them would have been lucky with anything so light as lugging sacks of grain.' 'I think I've heard you tell that story before,' Menedemos said. 'Me, I'm more worried about what will happen tomorrow than what happened a hundred years ago.' He'd hoped that would annoy his cousin. It did, but not quite enough to suit him. Instead of going off in a huff, Sostratos answered seriously: 'What happens tomorrow will happen in part because of what happened a hundred years ago. How can you understand the present if you don't understand the past?' 'I don't know, and I don't much care,' Menedemos said. That did affront Sostratos. He stalked toward the bow, dodging men with sacks of grain on their shoulders. Menedemos smiled behind his back. The slaves weren't the only people on the pier. A tavern tout called, 'First two cups of wine free for all the sailors who brought us grain when we needed it so bad. Come to Leosthenes' place, right off the harbor.' A cheer went up on the Aphrodite. The cheers that rose from the round ships were smaller - they carried fewer sailors. Menedemos said, 'Diokles, I'm going to want half a dozen men on board through the night. Two days' bonus pay for anybody who's willing not to drink and screw himself blind tonight.' He hadn't tried to keep his voice down, on the contrary, he wanted the sailors to hear and to volunteer to pick up an extra three drakhmai. Along with the sailors, Sostratos also heard. He whirled in alarm: he hated spending extra silver. Menedemos thought he would protest out loud, which wouldn't have been good. But Sostratos proved to have sense enough not to do that. Menedemos beckoned him back to the stern as Diokles found volunteers. 'Don't worry,' Menedemos told his cousin. 'Once Antandros pays us, a few drakhmai won't matter one way or the other.' 'They always matter,' Sostratos said primly, 'and I always worry. One of the things I'm worrying about now is, suppose Antandros doesn't pay us?' 'His man said he would,' Menedemos said, that being the strongest reply he could make. He was worried, too, and doing his best not to show it. 'And even if he doesn't, we still got half again the going rate up in Rhegion - and we're in Syracuse, by the dog of Egypt! We've got a fresh chance for top prices on peafowl chicks and silk and Ariousian - and a fresh chance to unload what's left of our papyrus and ink. If we can't sell 'em here, we can't sell 'em anywhere this side of Athens. And everybody takes them there, so nobody gets a good price for them.' He waited to see if his cousin would stay mulish. Most men would have.But Sostratos was uncommonly reasonable - sometimes, as far as Menedemos was concerned, too reasonable for his own good. Instead of growling, he stopped and thought. At last, grudgingly, he dipped his head. 'Fair enough, I suppose. You were right about coming here, as things worked out. Maybe you'll be right again. I hope so.' 'Me, too,' Menedemos said. And then, because Sostratos had gone halfway toward healing the quarrel, he tried to do the same himself: 'I'd have had more faith myself coming down here if I'd known ahead of time that Agathokles would pick that moment to sally forth. Good luck, like we said before.' Sostratos snapped his fingers in annoyance. 'By the gods, I'm an idiot! Why didn't I see that before?'
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