Over the Wine Dark Sea

  'Alexion died five or six years ago,' Damophon said. 'I used to buy fish from him. Instead of taking his father's boat out, Alexidamos sold it and used the silver he got to buy his weapons. He said soldiering had to be an easier way to make a living than fishing. Where did you meet him?'   'Cape Tainaron,' Sostratos answered. 'We took him across to Italy. With all the wars in those parts, a soldier wouldn't have any trouble finding work.'   From the couch Philodemos shared with Sostratos' father, he said, 'With all the wars everywhere these days, a soldier has no trouble finding work.'   'Wherever Alexidamos draws his drakhma a day and his rations, he'll likely lay his hands on more somehow or other,' Damophon said. 'His father was reliable, but I stopped buying from Alexidamos even before he sold the boat. He was the sort who'd drench yesterday's fish in seawater to make them look fresh. Any man can have that trick played on him once, but only a fool lets it happen twice.' He glanced over to Sostratos. 'Did he give you trouble?'   'Nothing we couldn't handle,' Sostratos said, and Menedemos dipped his head.   When Sostratos reclined once more, Menedemos rose from the couch and said, 'I'll give you the most famous return of all -  Odysseus' return to Ithake, and to his own home town. Here's how Homer tells it:   'Then Odysseus of many wiles, answering him, said, 'I know. I understand. You order someone with discernment.  But let us go, and you lead all the way.  But give me, if you have one anywhere, a stick  On which to lean, since you said the road was rough.'  He spoke, and flung his shabby pouch, full of holes,  Around his shoulder with a strap.  Then Eumaios gave him a staff that suited him.  The pair went off, but dogs and herdsmen stayed behind  To protect the farmhouse. He led the king to the city  In the guise of a wretched old beggarman  Leaning on his staff, and pitiful were the clothes on his back . . ..' '   Menedemos recited from the Odyssey for some time. As always, the ancient tale drew in all who listened to it, no matter how well everyone knew it. Even Sostratos, sophisticate though he was, found himself falling under Homer's spell. How does he do it? Sostratos wondered. The same question occurred to him whenever he read Herodotos or Thoukydides. They were all writers he, like most Hellenes, despaired of matching.   When Menedemos took his place on the couch once more, his father rose from the adjoining one. Sostratos hoped Philodemos might say something graceful about the return of the Aphrodite, but he didn't. Instead, he spoke of how the Rhodians had ousted the Macedonian garrison in the city after news of Alexander's death arrived, and 'how we had our freedom restored to us, and nothing for a polis is more important than