Rubbing his ear, Menedemos looked up at Himilkon. 'Whatever it is, I've never seen one before.' Hyssaldomos supplied the Greek word: 'It's a peacock.' 'That's right, a peacock,' Himilkon said with pride that would have been greater if he hadn't had to talk around a screech. 'A peacock!' Menedemos and Sostratos exclaimed, in excitement and disbelief. Menedemos wagged a finger at the creature and quoted Aristophanes, his favorite playwright: ' 'Which are you, bird or peacock?' ' 'My slave and I told you it was a peacock,' said the Phoenician merchant, who'd probably never heard of the Birds. 'And be careful with your hands around it. It bites.' 'Where does it come from?' Sostratos asked. 'India,' Himilkon replied. 'Since the divine Alexander went there with an army of you Hellenes, more of these birds have come back to the Inner Sea than ever before. I have the peacock here, and five peahens still caged in the warehouse. They're quieter than he is, Baal be praised.' 'From India?' Sostratos scratched his head in bewilderment. 'But Herodotos doesn't talk about peafowl in India in his history. He talks about the clothes made from tree-wool, and the enormous ants that mine gold, and the Indians themselves, with their black hides and their black semen. But not a word about peacocks. If they came from India, you'd think he'd say so.' Himilkon shrugged. 'I don't know anything about this Hellene, whoever he is. But I know where peacocks come from. And if he didn't talk about them, my bet is he didn't know about them.' With a chuckle, Menedemos said, 'You can't argue with that, Sostratos.' He enjoyed teasing his cousin, who, he sometimes thought, would sooner read about life than live it. He took another look at the peacock, then asked Himilkon, 'What are those feathers piled up on top of it? They don't look like they're growing out of its back.' 'No, no, no.' The Phoenician made little pushing motions, as if to deny the very idea. 'Those are tail feathers. The cage is too small, too crowded.' 'All that mess? Its tail?' Menedemos raised that eyebrow again. 'You're having me on.' 'No such thing.' Himilkon drew himself up, the picture of affronted dignity. 'I'll show you.' He turned to Hyssaldomos. 'Open the door and let it out, to show the gentlemen. They may be customers, eh?' His slave plainly didn't care whether Menedemos and Sostratos were customers or not. 'Oh, boss, have a heart!' the Karian wailed. 'I'm the one who'll have to herd it back in there afterwards.' 'And what else have you got to do?' Himilkon retorted. 'It's not going to fly away; its wing is clipped. Go on, you lazy good-for-nothing.'
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