“More people want perfume than balsam,” Sostratos said. “More people can afford it,” Abibaalos replied. “In what size jars is the perfume?” “Each one holds two kyathoi,” Menedemos answered. The jars weren't very big. “The standard size,” Abibaalos said, nodding as barbarians often did. “One of those jars for each drakhma's weight of balsam, then.” “Outrageous!” Menedemos cried, though he wasn't particularly outraged. “We ought to get three drakhmai by weight, at least.” After half an hour of insults and howls, he and his adversary settled on two drakhmai and one obolos' weight of balsam per jar of perfume. “For a Hellene, you are not a bad bargainer,” Abibaalos remarked as they clasped hands. “From a Phoenician, that is high praise,” Menedemos said. He and Abibaalos both smiled the same sort of smile, which meant they both thought they'd won the dicker. 4 Sostratos enjoyed watching Kos rise up out of the sea as the Aphrodite drew near; it was one of the most beautiful islands of all. It was famous for fruit of all kinds, and especially for its wines. A good many mulberry orchards, now springtime-bright with new leaves, grew within easy walking distance of the city of Kos. A little farther inland, on higher ground, stood the marble majesty of the Asklepeion. As the akatos sailed past the healing god's shrine—easily visible from the south—Menedemos remarked, “All sorts of offerings in there from people the god cured.” “And I know just which one in particular you're thinking of, too,” Sostratos said. “Do you?” Menedemos sounded particularly innocent, which convinced Sostratos he was right. “I certainly do,” he said: “the Aphrodite rising from the sea that Apelles painted.” His cousin grinned, unabashed. “A painting of a beautiful girl—a beautiful goddess—with no clothes on is a lot more interesting than all those terracottas of knees or feet that people cured of sore joints or bunions give the god.” “It does make you wonder what Apelles was cured of, though,” Sostratos said. “The clap, maybe?” “Scoffer,” Menedemos said. “His portrait of Antigonos is in the Asklepeion, too.”
Вы читаете The Gryphon's Skull
