Harry Turtledove - The Gryphon's Skull

So did Pixodaros, who dipped his head, playing the Hellene again. “As you wish, of course.” He called for a couple of slaves. A year before, they would have been his fellows; now he owned them. Menedemos wondered what they thought of that. Did one of them hope to inherit the business, as Pixodaros had?

Whatever they thought, they obeyed. One headed down to the harbor. The other took Menedemos and Sostratos to the house of Kleiteles son of Ekdikos, the wineseller who looked out for Rhodian interests on Kos. Menedemos gave the slave an obolos and sent him back to his master. Kleiteles was a plump, happy man of about forty, who looked to enjoy having guests. “Pleased to see you, my friends,” he said. “I heard you were in port, and told the cook to make sure we had plenty.”

“Thank you very much,” Menedemos and Sostratos said together.

“My pleasure, believe me,” Kleiteles answered. “Don't just stand there in the front hall—come along to the andron with me. Come, come.” He shooed them along as if they were children. He had practice at such things; in the courtyard, a boy of about eight and another perhaps five were playing in the fading light. “Run upstairs,” Kleiteles told them. “You'll eat in the women's quarters tonight. I have company.”

“Your sons?” Menedemos asked—they had the look of the Koan, Kleiteles dipped his head. “Promising lads,” Menedemos remarked.

“You're too kind, best one.” Kleiteles waved toward the andron. “Go on in, both of you. Use my home as your own.”

A slave was lighting lamps and torches in the andron. In one corner of the room stood a wickerwork cage with a jackdaw inside. The gray and black bird hopped up and down a little ladder with a tiny bronze shield in its beak. Kleiteles laughed and tossed it some seeds. It dropped the shield with a clink and started pecking them up.

Such things always fascinated Sostratos. Sure enough, he asked, “How long did it take you to train the bird?”

“Less time than you'd think: only a couple of months,” Kleiteles answered. “They're surprisingly clever—and, of course, the toy shield is shiny, and jackdaws like such things.”

“How interesting,” Sostratos said. Menedemos wondered if he would try to buy a jackdaw for himself when he got back to Rhodes.

They ate reclining on couches. With only three men in the andron, each had one to himself. The sitos was barley porridge flavored with onions and mushrooms and fennel. For opson, the cook brought in a casserole of shrimp and cheese and olives. If nothing was spectacular, everything was tasty.

And the wine, which came out after the supper dishes were cleared away, was very good indeed. Menedemos and Sostratos traded news with Kleiteles, who said, “Ah, so you saw Ptolemaios' fleet go by, did you? I don't know how long he'll stay here, but business will surely be fine for as long as that is. I've heard his wife is with him, and that she's with child.”

“Hadn't heard that myself,” Menedemos said. Sostratos tossed his head to show he hadn't heard it, either.

“I don't know it's true, mind you,” Kleiteles said. “If Berenike is here, she doesn't do her own shopping in the agora.” He chuckled.

So did Menedemos. But Sostratos said, “Oh, Berenike. That's not Ptolemaios' wife; that's his concubine. He's married to Eurydike, old Antipatros' daughter.” He kept track of such things as carefully as he kept track of the relative values of silk and perfume.

“Is he?” Kleiteles said in a slightly crestfallen voice. He'd had his news . . oh, not quite turned false, but at least weakened. With a little thought, Menedemos might also have remembered to whom Ptolemaios was married. He didn't think he would have come out and said so, though. Relentless precision could make a man harder to get along with.

But the proxenos, fortunately, didn't seem much offended. After a few sips of wine, his smile came back like the sun returning from behind a small cloud. He called for a slave, spoke briefly to the man, and sent him away. The fellow returned a bit later, saying, “Everything is ready, master.”

“Good, good. Go on off to bed, then—we won't need you any more tonight,” Kleiteles said. The slave nodded and disappeared. Kleiteles turned to the Rhodians. “I know you've had a busy day. Your rooms are waiting for you.”

“Thank you for your kindness,” Menedemos said, and drained his cup. He wouldn't have minded drinking a bit longer, but he knew a hint when he heard one. Sostratos might not have, but did own wit enough to get to his feet when Menedemos did. He cast a last glance at the jackdaw as Kleiteles led them out of the andron and into the courtyard.

A couple of torches flickering there gave the wineseller enough light to lead the two cousins back to their rooms. “Have a pleasant evening,” he said, “and I'll see you in the morning.” Off he went, whistling a bawdy tune.

“Good night,” Sostratos said, and went into one of the chambers.

“Good night,” Menedemos replied, and went into the other.

The room held a stool, a small clay lamp perched on it, and a bed. The bed held a woman not far from Menedemos' age—one of Kleiteles' slaves, without a doubt. She smiled at him. “Hail,” she said.

“Hail,” Menedemos answered with a smile of his own. He wondered if Sostratos had company in his bedroom, too. Probably. Kleiteles was indeed a considerate host. “What's your name, sweetheart?”

“I'm called Eunoa,” the woman answered.

“Well, Eunoa, get out of your chiton, and we'll go on from there.” Menedemos pulled his own tunic off over his head. As soon as the woman was naked, too, he lay down on the bed beside her. He took her hand and set it on his manhood, while he kissed and caressed her breasts and rubbed Her between the legs. As most women did, she'd singed off the hair there; her flesh was soft and very smooth.

Presently, Menedemos stood her up and had her lean forward against the bed. He poised himself behind her. He was about to thrust home when she looked back over her shoulder and said, “I wish I didn't have to worry about making a baby.”

He could have ignored her. She was there to do as he wanted, not the other way around. But he shrugged and said, “Bend a little more, then,” and, after spitting on himself to ease the way a little, went in at the other door. “There. Is that better?”

“I... suppose so,” Eunoa answered. “It does hurt some, though.”

“It was your choice,” Menedemos said, not pausing to wonder whether she'd had a choice about coming to his bed. He went on. It didn't hurt him at all: on the contrary. After he finished, he patted her round bottom. “Here, dear, this is for you,” he said, and gave her a couple of oboloi. “You don't need to tell Kleiteles you got them from me.”

“Thank you,” Eunoa said. “It wasn't so bad.” The little silver coins evidently made it a good deal better.

Menedemos had thought they would. He lay down on the bed. “Sleep with me. We'll do it again in the morning, whichever way you like.” He didn't say he would give her more money then, but he didn't say he wouldn't, either. She lay down willingly enough. The bed was narrow for two, but not if they snuggled together. His arms around the slave girl, Menedemos fell asleep.

Sostratos woke up when the woman Kleiteles had lent him for the night almost kicked him out of bed. He had to clutch at the frame to keep from landing on the floor. His sudden motion woke the slave up, too. They both needed a moment to remember what they were doing there lying side by side. Sostratos needed another moment to remember her name. “Good day, Thestylis,” he said when he did.

“Good day, sir,” she answered, sitting up and yawning. Her breasts sagged a little; her nipples were wide and dark. He guessed she'd borne a child before. Maybe it hadn't lived. When he reached out and idly stroked her, she said, “Just a minute, sir. Let me use the pot first, if you don't mind.”