Sostratos would have brushed off a ragged Kallipolitan, but this fellow looked as if he could afford the best. 'If you'd be kind enough to stay here, sir, I'll bring a jar from the ship. I won't be long.' 'You should have one ready to hand,' the local said. Since that was true, Sostratos could only dip his head and hurry away. Nobody aboard the Aphrodite looked enthusiastic about putting an amphora on a carrying pole and lugging it to the agora, but Aristeidas and Teleutas did. On the way to the market square, Teleutas stuck his foot in a hole in a muddy street. He stumbled. The pole slipped from his shoulder. Only a desperate grab by Sostratos kept the amphora from smashing. 'That was fast,' Aristeidas said as Sostratos helped Teleutas reassume the burden. 'That was me thinking about what Menedemos would say if we got back to the agora with a few potsherds and told our customer there he was welcome to lick them,' Sostratos replied. Aristeidas and Teleutas both laughed, but he hadn't been joking. They stabbed the pointed end of the amphora down in the mud when they got to the square. Sostratos scraped the pitch away from the stopper and got it out. They had to borrow a cup from a potter in the agora. The same thing had happened in Pompaia. Sostratos made a mental note to do something about that, at the same time wondering if he would remember it when the Aphrodite sailed away from Kallipolis. The Kallipolitan sipped the wine. Try as he would, he couldn't keep his face straight. 'This was worth waiting for, I must admit,' he said. 'How much for the jar?' 'Sixty drakhmai,' Menedemos answered, as he had up in Pompaia. This Hellene howled louder at that than any of the Pompaians had. He and Menedemos were throwing arguments back and forth when somebody yelled, 'You whoresons! You wide-arsed, turdeating bastards!' a good deal louder than Menedemos had called out the virtues of his silk and wine and perfume - loud enough to drown out every other sound in the agora, in other words. 'Uh-oh,' Sostratos said - quietly, but with great sincerity. He and Menedemos had idly wondered what had happened to Alexidamos the larcenous mercenary. Now they'd found out. Sostratos, for once, could have done without the enlightenment. 'Throw me off your stinking ship, will you?' Alexidamos shouted, even louder than before. 'Leave me to be barbarians' meat, will you?' He carried no spear, but drew his sword and trotted toward the men from the Aphrodite. Sostratos wore no sword. Neither did Menedemos. Neither did the other two sailors from the akatos. Few men did wear swords in a polis. If a man wasn't safe among his fellow Hellenes, where would he be? Nowhere, went through Sostratos' mind. 'Stop him!' someone exclaimed. But nobody seemed eager to stop Alexidamos. Who would want to try, unarmed, to stop a man with a sword in his hand and murder in his eyes? And, for all these people know, he really does have some good reason to want revenge against us. There were times when Sostratos wished he weren't so good at seeing the other fellow's point of view. 'Good day,' said the Kallipolitan who'd been haggling with Menedemos. His departure showed a turn of speed that wouldn't have disgraced a sprinter at Olympos or any of the other Panhellenic festivals. When Sostratos looked around to ask for help from Aristeidas and Teleutas, he didn't see the latter, either. He cursed under
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