with us again next spring.' 'I hope so, too, young sir,' the oarmaster answered. 'Never a dull moment, was there?' 'Too few of them, anyway,' Sostratos said, which made Diokles laugh. 'Oh, by the gods,' Menedemos said softly. 'Here comes Father.' He'd attacked a Roman trireme with no visible trace of fear, but quivered to see a middle-aged man approach the Aphrodite. Sostratos waved. 'Hail, Uncle Philodemos,' he called. 'We've come back with every man we started out with but one, and with a tidy profit.' 'What happened to the one man?' Philodemos rapped out. He aimed the question not at Sostratos but at his own son. 'Hail, Father,' Menedemos said. 'He died of an arrow wound he took in a sea fight.' 'Pirates?' Philodemos asked. 'The Italian waters are lousy with 'em. Polluted bastards all ought to go up on crosses.' His right hand folded into an angry fist. 'Yes, sir,' Menedemos agreed. 'But this wasn't a fight with pirates. The Romans sent a fleet of triremes to raid a Samnite town called Pompaia just as we were sailing away from it, and one of the triremes took after us.' Philodemos raised an eyebrow. 'And you got away from it? That must have taken some fine sailing. I wasn't sure you had it in you.' Menedemos grappled with that, trying to decide whether it came out a compliment. Sostratos spoke up before his cousin could: 'We didn't get away from it, Uncle. We wrecked it - used our hull to break its starboard oars. After we crippled it, then we got away.' 'Really?' Philodemos said. Not only Sostratos and Menedemos but also a good many sailors amplified the story. Menedemos' father stroked his chin. 'That does sound like a smart piece of work,' he allowed. 'There,' Sostratos hissed. 'You see?' But Menedemos ignored him. He was miffed, but only for a moment, for he saw his own father coming down the wharf toward the Aphrodite. He waved again. Lysistratos waved back. 'Hail, son,' he said. 'Good to see you again. How did everything go?' Uncle Philodemos didn't say it was good to see Menedemos, went through Sostratos' mind. He may have thought it, but he didn't say it. 'Hail,' he answered. 'We're here. We made money. And we got rid of all the peafowl and all of their chicks.' Relentless honesty made him add, 'Well, almost all the peafowl. One peahen jumped into the sea. That was my fault.' 'Many good-byes to them,' Menedemos said. 'They're gods-detested birds, no matter how pretty the peacock was. The Italiotes and barbarians who bought them are welcome to them, believe you me they are.'
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