He’d almost finished breakfast when his father came downstairs. “Hail,” Lysistratos called. “How are you?”

“Better now than when I first got up,” Sostratos answered. “The wine helped.”

“Pity it’s not springtime,” Lysistratos said. “Raw cabbage is good for a thick head, but this is the wrong season.” He walked over and sat down beside his son. “I understand why you and Menedemos did what you did. Losing a man is hard. Sometimes telling his family he’s gone is even harder.”

“Yes.” Sostratos dipped his head. “His father was such a gentleman- and then, as we were leaving, his mother began to wail…” He grabbed the winecup and gulped the last couple of swallows.

“A bad business. A very bad business.” Lysistratos hesitated, then went on, “I hear you made something of a hero of yourself in the same fight.”

With a shrug, Sostratos said, “My archery isn’t hopeless. I should have shot more of the bandits, though. If I had, we wouldn’t have had to pay a call on Aristaion yesterday.” He wished he had more wine. What he’d already drunk had taken the edge off his headache, but another cup might take the edge off his thoughts. He looked around for Threissa, then decided it was just as well he didn’t see her. A man who started pouring it down early in the morning wouldn’t be worth much as the day wore along.

Lysistratos said, “What do you plan on doing today?”

“I’ll go over to see Damonax and settle accounts with him,” Sostratos answered. “The olive oil worked out better than I expected, but I’m not going to fill the Aphrodite up with it if we go to Athens next spring. That would be like taking crimson dye to Phoenicia. If he can’t see as much for himself, I’ll make it as plain as I have to.”

“I understand.” His father smiled. “I don’t think you’ll have to beat him about the head and shoulders, or anything of the sort. Uncle Philodemos and I made it plain to him that he pushed his luck this past spring. We let him get away with it once because of his own family’s debts, but we’re not going to let him be a permanent anchor weighing down our family’s profits.”

“Euge!” Sostratos said. “How did he take that?”

“Pretty well,” Lysistratos replied. “He is a charming fellow, no two ways about it.”

“Yes, but especially when he’s getting his way,” Sostratos said, which made his father laugh. He went on, “I hope I see Erinna when I’m there. Is she happy with Damonax?”

“She seems to be,” Lysistratos said. “And did you hear last night? She’s going to have a baby in a few months.”

Sostratos tossed his head. “No, I didn’t. That’s wonderful news! I know how much she wants a family.” He hesitated, then asked, “If it happens to be a girl, will they keep it or expose it?”

“I don’t know,” his father said. “I hope they’d keep it, but that’s Damonax’s choice, not mine.” He looked troubled. “It would be hard, very hard, for your sister finally to give birth and then to lose the baby.”

“I know. That’s just what I was thinking,” Sostratos said. But his father was right. That wasn’t anything where the two of them had a say. He ate the last bit of barley roll, then got to his feet. “I’ll head over there now. I’ve got the figures written down on a scrap of papyrus. With a little luck, I’ll catch Damonax before he’s gone to the agora or the gymnasion. Farewell, Father.”

“Farewell.” Lysistratos got up, too, and clapped him on the back. “You did very well in Phoenicia-on the whole voyage, from all I’ve heard. Don’t be too hard on yourself because you weren’t perfect. Perfection is for the gods.”

Everyone told Sostratos the same thing. He’d told it to himself a good many times, too. That he had to keep telling it to himself showed he still didn’t believe it. He wondered if he ever would. Shrugging, he headed for the door.

Damonax’s house lay in the western part of Rhodes, not far from the gymnasion. It was far larger and finer than Aristaion’s, and presented only a whitewashed wall and doorway to the outside world. Damonax, who made his money from lands outside the polis, didn’t need a shop at the front.

Munching on some raisins he’d bought from a street peddler, Sostratos knocked on the door. He remembered coming here during Erinna’s wedding celebration and, before that, when he’d shown Damonax the gryphon’s skull. He sighed. If he’d taken six minai of silver from the man who would become his brother-in-law, the pirates in the strait between Euboia and Andros wouldn’t have had the chance to steal the skull.

He knocked again. “I’m coming!” a slave shouted in good Greek. A moment later, the fellow opened a little barred shutter set into the door at eye level and peered out. “Oh, hail, Master Sostratos,” he said, and opened the door itself. “Come in, sir. The master will be glad to see you.”

“Thank you,” Sostratos said. “I hope Damonax is well? And my sister, too? I hear from my father she’s expecting a baby?”

“Yes, that’s right,” the slave answered. “They’re both as well as anyone could hope. Here, sir, it’s a nice day. Why don’t you sit down on this bench in the courtyard? I’ll let Damonax know you’re here.” He raised his voice to a shout: “Master! Erinna’s brother is back from overseas!”

Erinna’s brother, Sostratos thought with wry amusement. That was probably how he’d be known here for the rest of his life. Well, fair enough. He perched on the bench the slave had suggested and looked around. The first things his eye lit upon were the flowerbed and herb garden in the courtyard. He smiled. They looked much more like those back at his family’s house than they had the last time he was here. Erinna was an enthusiastic gardener and was making her mark felt.

The slave came back to him. “He’ll be here in just a bit. Would you like some wine, sir, and some almonds or olives?”

“Almonds, please,” Sostratos answered. “Thanks very much.”

Damonax and the slave returning with the snack came into the courtyard at the same time. Sostratos rose and clasped his brother-in-law’s hand. “Hail,” Damonax said with a smile that showed off his white teeth. He was as handsome and well groomed as ever; he’d rubbed a scented oil into his skin so that he smelled sweet. Had it been a little stronger, it would have been annoying. As things were, it just marked him as a man who enjoyed fine things.

“Hail,” Sostratos echoed. “And congratulations.”

“I thank you very much.” Damonax’s smile got broader. He sounded pleased and reasonably contented with life and with his marriage. Sostratos hoped he was. That would be likely to mean Erinna was contented, too. “Do sit down again, best one. Make yourself at home.”

“Kind of you,” Sostratos said. The slave served the two of them and withdrew. Sostratos ate an almond. He inclined his head to Damonax. “Roasted with garlic. Tasty.”

“I’m fond of them that way. Glad you like them, too,” his brother-in-law replied. He made polite small talk; his manners had always been almost too perfect. Only after a quarter hour of chitchat and gossip about what had gone on in Rhodes while Sostratos was away did Damonax begin to come to the point: “I hope your voyage was successful and profitable?”

“We’ll end up doing quite well for ourselves, I think,” Sostratos said, “though much of what we bought-balsam and crimson dye and the Byblian, especially-we’ll have to resell before we can realize the profit I’m sure we’ll make.”

“I understand,” Damonax said. “I trust my oil was well received?” He was tense but trying hard not to show it. Here was the meat of the business, sure enough.

“The quality was good,” Sostratos answered. “We sold most of it in Sidon. Here is what we made for it.” He took out the scrap of papyrus on which he’d worked out just how much silver the olive oil had earned.

When Damonax saw the number at the bottom, his face lit up. “But this is wonderful!” he exclaimed. “It’s quite a bit more than I expected. I’ll be able to pay off a good many debts.”