Over the Wine Dark Sea

to make you angry, and you let him,' Menedemos said. 'You still haven't told me why.'   'Are you deaf? Are you blind?' Sostratos blazed. 'Why? Because I was afraid he was right, that's why.'   'Oh,' Menedemos said. 'Listen to me, O cousin of mine: if you let somebody like that get your goat, you're the fool.' But Sostratos still stood there looking out to sea, his back as stiff as if he'd been cast from bronze. Menedemos knew he'd spoken the truth, but it wasn't the kind of truth his cousin needed to hear. He tried again: 'It's like I told you after we finished the dicker: yes, I was the one who jollied Aristagoras into a deal, but you got Xenophanes moving when he turned stubborn on me. Sometimes one man's way works, sometimes another's.'   That was better. Menedemos saw as much at once. Sostratos eased into a more nearly human posture. He actually looked back toward Menedemos as he said, 'I suppose so.'   'Of course!' Menedemos said heartily -  but not too heartily, lest Sostratos see that he was jollying him and get angry again. Someone like Aristagoras was easy to manipulate, because he took flattery as no less than his due. Sostratos didn't. He examined everything to see how it worked, to see where the truth lay. And so, still choosing his words one by one, Menedemos went on, 'You'd better believe it -  and you'd better come out of your shell -  because I'm going to need you every stop we make between here and Italy.'   'Out of my shell, eh?' Sostratos hunched up his shoulders and forced his mouth into a tight, narrow line and otherwise did such an excellent imitation of a pond turtle that Menedemos' laughter came altogether unforced. His cousin said, 'Now you have to keep your side of the bargain, too.'   'Who, me?' Menedemos said. 'What bargain?' He saw he'd almost been a better actor than he'd intended; his cousin looked ready to fling him over the rail. He pointed to Sostratos. 'Before I answer, tell me what you would do if you were me.'   'If I were commanding the Aphrodite, we'd go by way of Corinth,' Sostratos said slowly. He scratched his chin. 'But that's not what you asked, is it? If I were you, I expect we'd go by way of Cape Tainaron.'   Doing his best not to show whether Sostratos was right or not, Menedemos asked, 'And why is that?'   'Because you think we'll pick up mercenaries bound for Italy: either to Syracuse to fight against Carthage or to the mainland poleis to hold back the local barbarians,' Sostratos answered. 'Passengers are pure profit, after all.'   'So they are.' Menedemos dipped his head in agreement. 'And that is just what I intend to do, and for your reasons. Take note -  you're not useless after all, no matter what anybody says.'   'You needn't sound so disappointed,' Sostratos said. In a different tone of voice, that would have meant he still felt gloomy. As things were, he sounded more like his usual self. Because he sounded like his usual self, Menedemos could forget about him for a while, as he could forget about a parted line after it was spliced. He could -  and he did.   As he passed the southern tip of Khios, he swung the Aphrodite west for the passage across the Aegean. The akatos sailed well enough with the wind on the quarter; at his orders, the sailors swung the yard to take best advantage of it, and also brailed up some of the canvas on the leeward side. 'A little more,' he called, and they hauled again on the lines that raised the fabric section by