'This is our best chance against a trireme, isn't it?' Sostratos said. 'It's our best chance against any galley bigger than we are - best besides running away, I mean,' Menedemos answered. 'It's our only chance against a trireme: if we can use our hull to break most of the oars on one side of his ship, that lets us get away. Otherwise, we haven't got a chance.' 'I suppose not.' Sostratos sighed. 'I wish someone would keep pirates down all over the Inner Sea, the way Rhodes tries to do in the Aegean.' 'While you're at it, wish navies didn't hunt merchantmen when they saw the chance, too,' Menedemos said. 'Here close to home, we're fairly safe, because Ptolemaios and Antigonos both care about keeping Rhodes happy. Farther west . . .' He tossed his head. Sostratos sighed again. One more thing to worry about, he thought. As if I didn't have enough already. 4 Menedemos woke in darkness, the Aphrodite tossing not too gently under him. A couple of cubits away, Sostratos lay on his back on the poop deck, snoring like a saw grinding through stone. Menedemos tried to slide straight back into sleep, but his cousin's racket and his own full bladder wouldn't let him. Short of kicking Sostratos and waking him up, Menedemos couldn't do anything about his snoring. And Sostratos wasn't the only offender, only the nearest one; a good many rowers buzzed away, making the night anything but serene. I can ease myself, though, Menedemos thought, and got to his feet to do just that. As he stood at the rail, the Aphrodite might have been alone on the sea, alone in all the world. Zeus' wandering star was about to set in the west, which put the hour somewhere close to midnight. The moon, a waxing crescent, had already vanished. All he could see was the star-flecked dome of the sky, and the blacker black of the night-time sea. Khios to the north, the Asian mainland to the east . . . He knew they were there, but he couldn't prove it, not by what his eyes told him. One after another in endless succession, waves lifted the merchant galley's hull. The swell was bigger than it had been during the day. Menedemos hoped that didn't mean a storm would be blowing down out of the north. This early in the sailing season, it might. 'Bring me safe to Khios, Father Poseidon, and I'll give you something,' he murmured; the sea god had a temple on the island, not far from the city. Praying for good weather was as much as he could do. Having done it, he lay down again, wrapped himself in his himation, and tried to go back to sleep. He wondered if he would succeed with Sostratos making horrible noises almost in his ear. He yawned and pulled the thick wool of the himation up over his head and aimed several unkind thoughts at his cousin. The next thing he knew, the sun was rising over the distant mainland to the east. He rolled over to wake Sostratos, only to discover that Sostratos was already among those present - was, in fact, fixing him with a reproachful stare. 'I hardly slept a wink last night, you were snoring so loud,' Sostratos said. 'I was?' The injustice of that all but paralyzed Menedemos. 'You're the one who kept making the horrible racket.' 'Nonsense,' Sostratos said. 'I never snore.' 'Oh, no, of course not.' Menedemos savored sarcasm. 'And a dog never howls at the moon, either.'
Вы читаете Over the Wine Dark Sea
