“Nothing like it for making a lovely woman lovelier,” Menedemos said, again—he hoped—as much to Asine as to her husband. “This is a particularly fine bolt here. Look.” He unrolled it and held it up in the sunlight. “You can practically see through it.” “That's indecent,” Nikodromos exclaimed. “Only if the woman who's wearing it isn't worth looking at,” Menedemos said with a wink, as one man of the world to another. “My dear fellow, you simply wouldn't believe how much silk my cousin sold to the fanciest hetaira in Miletos.” “I don't want my woman looking like a hetaira,” Nikodromos said, but his voice lost force with each succeeding word. Why wouldn't a man want his wife to look as desirable as she could? “You need another sniff of the perfume.” Menedemos pulled the stopper from the little jar again. “Here. Sweeter than honey, isn't it?” By the way the priest screwed up his face, he wanted to deny it, but he couldn't. “What. . . what will you want for all this?” he asked at last, sounding almost fearful. “For the emeralds, nine minai apiece,” Menedemos answered. “Two minai for the silk, and twenty drakhmai for the perfume.” All the prices were outrageously high. He knew that. With a little luck, Nikodromos wouldn't. He'd certainly overpaid for the lion skin. He bawled like a branded calf now. “Outrageous,” he spluttered. “Absurd. Downright criminal, if you want to know the truth.” Menedemos shrugged. “If you're not interested, I'm sure someone else will want to deck his wife out in style. Goods like these don't come to Aigina every day, you know, or every year, either.” That was true enough. Back in the old days that fascinated Sostratos so much, Aigina had been an important polis. Not anymore. It was a backwater now, completely overshadowed by Athens. The Aphrodite never would have put in here if not for the pirates. The real question was, just how much silver did Nikodromos have? Menedemos tossed his head. No, the real question was, how much would he spend? If he wouldn't lay out any on a slave, would he spend any for his wife? If he didn't intend to spend any, had he invited Menedemos back for no better reason than to waste his time? That might make Asine unhappy, and Menedemos had already heard she wasn't shy about letting her husband know how she felt. Licking his lips, Nikodromos said, “I will give you five minai for one of the emeralds, one mina for the silk, and ten drakhmai for the perfume.” “Only one emerald?” Menedemos said, using three words to imply the priest was surely the meanest man in the world. “I can't afford them both,” Nikodromos said. Something in his voice told Menedemos he was lying about that. It will tell his wife the same thing, the Rhodian thought cheerfully. Nikodromos, meanwhile, gathered himself for a peevish outburst: “And I get to choose which stone, do you hear me?” “Of course.” Menedemos spoke as if humoring a madman. Then his own voice hardened: “But you won't choose either unless you come closer to meeting my price.” He almost said, unless you meet my price, but that would have given Nikodromos no haggling room at all.
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