“All right, then. That's what I'd be up against, talking about the gryphon's skull without being able to show it.” Sostratos let out another sigh, a lover pining for a lost love. “It's over now. Nothing to be done about it. Let's find this Theagenes and get the ship purified.” The priest was pruning a fig tree in a little orchard by the temple when the Rhodians came up to him. “Hail,” Menedemos called. “Hail,” Theagenes answered over his shoulder. “Just a moment, and I'll be right with you.” A smooth-barked branch thudded to the ground. Theagenes grunted in satisfaction and lowered his saw. He turned toward Menedemos and Sostratos. He was a short man, shorter than Menedemos, but with wiry muscles shifting under his skin as he moved. “There. That's better. Now, what can I do for the two of you? You'll be from the ship that got in last night?” “That's right.” Menedemos gave his name and Sostratos'. “If you heard that, you probably heard we fought off pirates, too. We had a man killed, and another who looks sure to die of his wounds.” Theagenes dipped his head. “I did hear that, yes. You'll want me to purify the vessel?” “If you please,” Menedemos said. “And we'd like to sacrifice here as a thanks offering for driving those whoresons away.” Sostratos stirred at that. Menedemos had been sure he would; he hated expense. But it needed doing. “Good enough.” The priest hesitated, then went on, “This wounded man, if he dies after I finish the job ...” “You'd have to do it over again,” Sostratos said. “That's what I meant, yes,” Theagenes agreed. “A death is a death. As far as the ritual goes, how it happens doesn't matter.” “We'll move him to the boat,” Menedemos said. He'd done that with the dying sailor after the clash with the Roman trireme the year before. “Purifying that will be less work for you—and if you can't come for some reason, well, we can buy another boat.” “I understand,” Theagenes said. “Let me get my lustration bowl, and then I'll come to the harbor with you.” He went into the temple. When he came out again, Sostratos stirred. “How long has this temple had that bowl?” he whispered to Menedemos. “What do you—? Oh.” Menedemos saw what his cousin meant. The bowl had an image of Poseidon in it. The god was done in black against a red background. That style had been replaced by red figures on a black background about the time of the Persian Wars. How many black-figure bowls still survived? Menedemos said, “They're very careful of it.” “I should think so,” his cousin answered. The two Rhodians and the priest walked back toward the seashore. When Theagenes got a good look at the Aphrodite , he said, “Your ship is too beamy to make a proper pirate, but I can see how people might think at first glance she was one.” “We've had it happen, yes,” Menedemos said. “As far as I'm concerned, Poseidon or someone ought to sweep
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