liked descending at an angle even less than they liked being carried on level ground. By the way the slaves let the cages thud to the pine timbers of the foredeck, they'd got very sick of the birds. Menedemos came up behind them. 'Put those cages in two rows, with a lane in the middle,' he said. When the slaves were done, he surveyed the result and reluctantly dipped his head. 'I suppose it will do,' he called to Sostratos. 'But we'll have to warn the lookouts to steer the middle path. If they come too close to the birds on either side, they'll get their legs pecked.' He laughed. 'We've got Skylle and Kharybdis right here aboard the Aphrodite.' 'Homer never saw a peacock - I'm sure of that.' Sostratos pointed. 'Here comes the last of the papyrus . . . and here comes something else, too. What's in those jars, Menedemos? They aren't on my list here.' 'Oh, I know about those,' Menedemos answered. 'They're crimson dye from Byblos. Father just got them yesterday, from a ship that just came in from Phoenicia.' 'Crimson dye . . . from Byblos.' Menedemos' cousin spoke with exaggerated patience: 'How many jars did Uncle Philodemos get? Why didn't anyone bother to tell me about them till now?' He looked daggers at Menedemos. 'Sorry,' Menedemos said, more contritely than he'd thought he would. 'It's two hundred jars, by the way.' 'Two hundred jars.' Sostratos still sounded furious. 'This had better not happen again. How am I supposed to do my job if nobody tells me what I'm supposed to be doing?' He pointed to the men who were loading oiled-leather sacks of papyrus beneath the rowers' benches. 'Shift those farther astern. We've got to make room for the crimson dye.' Menedemos gave his attention back to Diokles. 'Go get us those rowers. I want to be at sea before noon. We probably won't make Knidos even so. No help for it; we'll just have to beach ourselves on Syme.' 'Right, skipper.' The keleustes dipped his head. 'I'll take care of it.' He went up the gangplank to the quay at which the Aphrodite was tied up, and shouted for rowers in a great voice. 'Have we got all our cargo aboard?' Menedemos asked Sostratos. 'Unless there's more you haven't told me about, yes,' his cousin answered tartly. Menedemos tossed his head, denying even the possibility. Sostratos didn't look appeased, but said, 'In that case, everything's loaded.' He peered down the quay, though he, unlike Menedemos, wasn't following Diokles with his eyes. 'I was wondering if we'd get any passengers.' 'I was hoping we would - they're pure profit,' Menedemos said. 'But it's still early in the sailing season, so some lubbers won't care to put to sea so soon. We'll probably get some in Hellas. There are always people who want to go across to Italy.' He clapped his hands together. 'Here comes Diokles. That was fast.' 'I wonder what'll be wrong with the rowers,' Sostratos said. 'We'll find out. At least they aren't falling-down drunk in the morning: a little something, anyhow,' Menedemos said. 'Get their names, tell 'em it's a drakhma a day, and it'll go up to a drakhma and a half when they show they're worth it. And then . . .' He clapped again, hard this time. 'Then we're off.'
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