“They’re both very well, thank you,” Damonax replied. “Polydoros seems a very healthy little boy, for which the gods be praised.” He was a man of no great piety-which didn’t bother Sostratos, who wasn’t, either-but spoke with the air of someone taking no chances. Since so many children didn’t live to grow up, Sostratos couldn’t blame him.

A wail from another room declared something had happened that the very healthy little boy didn’t care for. “How do you get used to living with all the noise a baby makes?” Sostratos asked with genuine curiosity.

“It was hard at first, when he cried so often,” Damonax said. “Now, though, his mother or a slave takes care of it, and it doesn’t bother me too much.”

That hardly seemed fair to Erinna. On the other hand, if caring for a baby wasn’t woman’s work, what was? Sostratos muttered to himself, caught between loyalty to his sister and expectations about the way things were supposed to work.

Damonax asked, “And how did you find Athens?”

“Oh, you sail north and west from Cape Sounion, and there it is,” Sostratos answered blandly. His brother-in-law stared, then let out an undignified snort. Sostratos went on, “Seriously, it could be better. You’ll have heard that Demetrios son of Antigonos drove out Demctrios of Phaleron?”

“Oh, yes, and restored the Athenians’ old democratic constitution, and knocked the fortress of Mounykhia flat. That all sounds promising.”

“I suppose it would. But have you heard how the Athenians paid him back for liberating them?” Sostratos asked. Damonax tossed his head. As Menedemos had with his father, Sostratos told him, finishing, “You see.”

“Oh,” Damonax said, and then, as if conscious that wasn’t enough, “Oh, dear. I’d… hoped for better from them.” If that wasn’t an expression of philosophical restraint, Sostratos had never heard one. Damonax asked, “Did you get out to the Lykeion?”

“Yes.” Sostratos hoped the one-word answer would keep Damonax from asking any more questions about that.

No such luck. His brother-in-law inquired, “And how’s old Theophrastos?”

“He doesn’t seem to have changed much from when I studied there,” Sostratos replied truthfully. “He remembered me.” He could say that with more than a little pride.

“Good. Good.” Damonax set a possibly friendly hand on his shoulder. “And what did he think of your… going into commerce?”

To the crows with you, my dear, Sostratos thought, shaking off the hand. If I weren’t in commerce, if my family didn’t make a good living from it, you wouldn’t have been able to use Erinna’s dowry and the money we made from your oil last year to pay off the debts on this land. The way you talk, though, I might have been keeping a brothel full of pretty boys.

He caught himself before any of that passed the gate of his teeth. He didn’t want to quarrel with Damonax (though he had to remind himself he didn’t): not only would it ruin this visit to the farm, but it also might make life harder and less pleasant for Erinna. That being so, he smiled back and answered, “He said he understood it was necessary for me to help support my family.” Now, with a certain malice, he set his hand on Damonax’s shoulder, as if to say his brother-in-law was part of the family he supported.

“Er-yes.” Damonax’s smile went fixed. He took the point-took it and didn’t care for it. Sostratos had hoped he wouldn’t. Damonax changed the subject in a hurry: “Let me show you to your room.”

That was unexceptionable. Sostratos dipped his head and followed his brother-in-law. The chamber was small and cramped, with barely enough room for a bed. It did boast a south-facing window, though, which made it lighter than most of the house. Through the window, Sostratos could look out at some of the olive trees on the farm. Indeed, narrow, silver-green leaves from one of the closest trees would probably blow into the room when the wind came from the south.

“Very nice, best one. Thank you.” Again, Sostratos remembered he didn’t want to quarrel with Damonax. He might have, if he didn’t fear locking horns with him would cause trouble for his sister. Since he did, he tried to walk soft.

His brother-in-law also took a moment and visibly composed himself before saying, “If you like, you can rest here before supper, and I’ll have a slave wake you if you’re not up by then.”

Now Sostratos’ smile was broad and genuine. “By the dog, I’ll take you up on that. One of the nuisances of life aboard ship is that you can never grab a nap in the afternoon. After a while, you get used to going without it, but I like one when I have the chance.”

“I’ll leave you to it, then.” Damonax slipped out of the room, closing the door behind him. Sostratos used the chamber pot under the bed, then lay down. The mattress was thinner and lumpier than the one back home, but far softer than the Aphrodites planking. And travel had taught him to sleep nearly anywhere. He dozed off almost as soon as he closed his eyes.

Next thing he knew, someone was knocking on the door and saying, “Supper is ready, most noble one,” in accented Greek.

The noise went on till Sostratos said, “I’m up. I’ll be there in a moment.” He rubbed sleep out of his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair and beard. He knew he wouldn’t be so elegant as Damonax come what may. That being so, he didn’t try too hard.

Because he was Erinna’s brother, she and the baby dined with him and Damonax. “Good to see you, my dear,” he told her. “And my goodness, but Polydoros is getting big.” His nephew rewarded him with a smile wide enough to show top and bottom teeth.

“He’s a good boy.” Erinna smiled, too. She looked tired. Even though Damonax’s slaves did a lot of the work of raising Polydoros, a mother had to do quite a bit, too, and it told on her.

“Here’s the sitos,” Damonax said as a slave carried in snowy-white barley rolls and olive oil in which to dip them. Proudly, he added, “All of it grown right here on the farm.”

“That’s good,” Sostratos said. Then he tried one of the rolls, still warm from the oven. “Mm! That’s very good.”

“I’m so glad you like the oil.” Damonax’s voice had an edge to it.

“My dear, I never said I didn’t like it. I merely said the Aphrodite wasn’t the right ship to carry it, and Athens wasn’t the right place to take it.”

Erinna said, “Let’s enjoy the supper, shall we, and not squabble over it?” Both her brother and her husband dipped their heads.

Cheese and olives appeared for opson. They too were products of the farm. Sostratos wondered if they would be all the opson there was. That would make a rustic supper, all right-more rustic than he really cared for. But then a slave brought in a ham on an earthenware platter; the platter, ironically, was decorated with pictures of fish, a far more common fancy opson.

Damonax did the honors with a carving knife not much smaller than a hoplite’s shortsword. He hacked off a generous chunk close to the shinbone that stuck out from the meat and gave it to Sostratos. “We raised the pig here, too,” he declared, “and smoke the meat with our own wood.”

“It’s delicious,” Sostratos said after he took a bite. “Do you eat meat here as often as you’d eat fish in town?”

“Not quite,” Damonax answered, at the same time as Erinna said, “No.” He sent her a hard look. She flushed and stared down at the ground. He’d wanted to give Sostratos the impression of greater abundance than he really had, and she’d spoiled it for him. It’s your fault, not hers, Sostratos thought. She just told the truth.

The wine that went with dinner was severely ordinary. Sostratos praised it anyway, asking, “Is this also from the farm?”

“It certainly is,” Damonax answered; as Sostratos had hoped, the question put him in a better humor. “As a matter of fact, I crushed some of the grapes myself.”