The Gryphon's Skull

But Thrasyllos' big, ugly ship had certain advantages of its own. He had a much smaller crew than Menedemos needed on the Aphrodite, for he required no rowers, only men to handle the enormous square sail now brailed up against the yard. That kept his expenses down, and meant he could haul cargo that wouldn't have been profitable aboard the merchant galley. Thrasyllos also enjoyed more comfort than Menedemos did. He had a real deckhouse on the poop, and could sleep in a bed even if the Aura had to spend a night at sea. Menedemos didn't mind occasionally wrapping himself in his himation and sleeping on the timbers, but he could see how other men might. “Show my cousin these emeralds,” he said as he came up to the round ship's captain. “Let's go inside the deckhouse,” Thrasyllos said nervously. “You never can tell who might be watching.” Menedemos was willing, but Sostratos tossed his head. “No. The light won't be any good in there. If I'm going to look at these stones, I want to be able to do a proper job of it.” “My cousin has a point,” Menedemos said. “Oh, all right.” Thrasyllos didn't sound happy about it. He kept peering around the harbor, as if he expected Ptolemaios himself to emerge from behind a careened fishing boat. “Here.” He reached into a leather sack with a drawstring mouth, took out a couple of stones, and set them in Menedemos' palm as if not trusting Sostratos to touch them. “Let me see,” Sostratos said. Menedemos handed him the emeralds; whether Thrasyllos did or not, he knew his cousin was almost painfully reliable. He also knew, just at a glance, that Thrasyllos was showing his biggest and finest gems. One of them was wide as his fingernail, the other only a tiny bit smaller. Both had the astonishing deep rich green color that had drawn his eye when the captain from Egypt first showed him the stones. “Interesting,” Sostratos said, keeping his voice as neutral as he could make it. He was a merchant; he knew better than to show any sort of enthusiasm. But he couldn't help adding, “They are gemstones of a sort, no doubt about it.” “I said so,” Menedemos told him. “So you did.” Sostratos gave him a measuring stare. “But you've been known to ... How should I put it? To let your enthusiasm run away with you.” “At least I have enthusiasms. You're as cold-blooded as a frog.” Were they alone, Menedemos might have had a good deal more than that to say. Sostratos wasn't the real opponent here, though. Thrasyllos was. And so Menedemos contented himself with adding, “You see why I'm interested in them.” “I can see why you might be, anyhow.” Sostratos looked at Thrasyllos. “My cousin didn't tell me what you're asking for them.” Thrasyllos licked his lips. “A mina apiece,” he said. “A pound of silver?” Sostratos made a production of returning the emeralds. “I'm sorry, O marvelous one, but I have to tell you I think you're quite mad.”