Before Sostratos could tell him it hadn't been a thousand years, or even quite nine hundred, since the Trojan War, the Kaunian merchant said, “So what will you give me for this gryphon's skull?” And, before Sostratos could even ask him how much he wanted, Menedemos laughed and said, “Oh, my dear fellow, that old bone is interesting to look at, but I don't think we want to buy it. What in the name of the gods is it good for, except maybe as the strangest decoration for an andron anyone ever saw? Now the lion skins you've got, and the one from the—tiger, did you call it?—those I might be interested in talking about with you.” “Menedemos,” Sostratos said. His cousin ignored him. Menedemos was turning into a haggler right in front of him. Examining the skins with a critical eye, he clicked his tongue between his teeth in dismay. “I'd pay more if it weren't for this poorly repaired hole here. Where a spear went in, I suppose?” “Menedemos,” Sostratos said again, rather louder. The next time, he would scream his cousin's name. He was sure of it. But, for a wonder, Menedemos deigned to notice him. “Yes? What is it, best one? You wanted something?” He was the picture of slightly distracted good will. Sostratos took him by the arm. “Walk with me for a moment, if you'd be so kind.” He led his cousin out of earshot of the local before speaking in a low voice: “I want that skull.” “What?” As he'd thought it would, that got rid of Menedemos' distraction. “Why? What would you do with it?” “Take it to Athens,” Sostratos replied at once. “I'd want Theo-phrastos and the other philosophers at the Lykeion—and the ones at the Academy, too—to see it and study it and learn from it. Most philosophers have always thought the gryphon a mythical beast, like a centaur or a Cyclops. But that” —he didn't point back toward the skull, for fear of showing the merchant how much he wanted it— “proves it's as real as a horse. Don't you see how important that is?” “Maybe,” Menedemos said. “What I don't see is how we'll make any money from it,” To the crows with money, Sostratos started to say. But he didn't let the words out. His cousin understood silver much better than he understood the relentless drive of curiosity. And so Sostratos chose a different tack: “We might get the Lykeion and the Academy bidding against each other to see who would own it.” “Do you think so?” Menedemos quirked an interested eyebrow upward. “Why not?” Sostratos said. “Do you suppose philosophers have any less desire for fame and any less desire to get a leg up on their rivals than ordinary men?” “You would know better than I,” Menedemos answered. “My dear, you have no idea,” Sostratos said. “Some of the things the men of the Academy did to us when I was in Athens—” “And what did your side do to them?” his cousin asked shrewdly.
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