Harry Turtledove - The Gryphon's Skull

“This,” he said, and did it. Metrikhe sighed when he went into her. Having lain with the Rhodian proxenos' slave woman back in Kos a couple of nights before, he didn't feel the need to spend him­self as fast as he could. He spun it out, enjoying the journey as well as the eventual destination. Metrikhe bucked against him like an un­broken colt. Her breathing came quick and short, till she threw back her head and a gasping moan broke from her.

Sostratos spent himself a few heartbeats later. In a throaty voice, Metrikhe said, “If we'd done that while we were bargaining, I'd 'ave paid you more for your silk, not less.”

“Thank you,” he told her, and gave her a kiss. “I don't suppose I'll get too many finer compliments.”

She dipped her head; she was a merchant, too, in her own way, and knew what her words had meant. “You're welcome,” she said, “And you're welcome 'ere any time, with silk or without.”

That might have been a bigger compliment than the other. “Thank you,” Sostratos said again, “For now, though, I'd better get back to the agora. Do I remember the turns rightly? First left, second right, fourth left, second right?”

She frowned. “That's not 'ow I keep track of the way. Let me think.” After a moment, she dipped her head once more. “Yes, that will get you there.”

“Good.” Sostratos got off the bed and put his tunic back on. “Thank you for your business,” he said, “and for everything else.”

Metrikhe lay there smiling up at him, naked still. “Thank you for everything else,” she said, “and for your business.”

“We were—we are—bound for Athens,” Sostratos said. “Now I hope we stay here for a while.” Did he really mean that? Part of him did, at any rate, and he knew just which part. Which was more im­portant in the general scheme of things, a woman or the gryphon's skull? I can find women anywhere, he thought. There's only one gryphon's skull. But the physical pleasure the hetaira had given him was less easy to surmount for the pleasures of the mind than Platon had made it out to be.

Realizing that made Sostratos leave Metrikhe's house faster than he would have otherwise. He made his way back to the agora, where he found Menedemos dickering over silk with a plump man who had the look of someone knowing himself to be important. After his cousin made the bargain—a better one than he'd got from Metrikhe himself—and sent the fellow on his way; he turned to Sostratos and said, “Well, my dear, I stopped back here for what I thought would be only a moment. It was just long enough to hear where you'd gone and to talk with that chap. You had a rugged bit of duty there, didn't you? Is she pretty?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Sostratos answered.

“And did she give you half the price in trade?” Menedemos went on.

“Of course not. We need the silver.” Sostratos held up the sack of coins. He told Menedemos what he'd sold and how much he'd got.

“Not the best bargain in the world, but passable, passable,” his cousin said. “So you didn't get anything more from her than a smile and the money, eh?”

“I didn't say that,” Sostratos replied, and had the satisfaction of seeing Menedemos look very jealous indeed.

“We're about ready to sail for Athens,” Menedemos told Sostratos as they stood on the Aphrodites poop deck after several profitable days in Miletos,

“All right,” his cousin said.

Menedemos laughed. “ 'All right? Is that the best you can manage? Before we got here, you would have been happy to skip this town and head straight for Cape Sounion, and you know it as well as I do.”

“I still want to go,” Sostratos said, sounding like a man doing his best not to sound annoyed. “You're making it seem as though I can't tear myself away from Metrikhe, and that isn't true.”

“Well, maybe not.” Menedemos laughed again. “You do come up for air every now and then—the way a dolphin does before it dives deep into the sea. Except you're diving deep into her—”

“Leave it alone, would you please?” Now Sostratos did sound annoyed.

Since irking his cousin was what Menedemos had had in mind, he did change the subject... in a way: “You've got to admit, we did the right thing coming here. Besides making you sleep like a dead man every night, we've unloaded most of the silk for a better price than we ever thought we'd get, and all but two of the emeralds. We'll show a profit when we get home. Our fathers won't have anything to complain about.” Keeping his father from having anything to com­plain about was one of his main goals in life. Trouble was, Philodemos complained whether he had anything to complain about or not.

“You could have sold those last two stones,” Sostratos said. “One of them's the best of the lot, isn't it?”

“Yes, it is—and I know I could have,” Menedemos said. “But I kept thinking: if I'm getting these prices in Miletos, what would I get in Athens? This polis hasn't been anything special for a long time—”

“Since before the Persian Wars,” Sostratos said.

“That's a long time,” Menedemos said. Somewhere close to two hundred years, he thought. Before his cousin could tell him exactly how long—to the hour, as likely as not—he went on, “Let's save a couple, anyhow, for a really big polis, a really rich polis. Maybe we'll do better with them there.”

“Maybe we will,” Sostratos agreed. “We couldn't very well try selling them in Alexandria. It's the richest city in the world, but...”

“Yes. But,” Menedemos said. “If we showed up with Egyptian emeralds in Ptolemaios' capital, people would wonder how we got them, and they'd take us apart trying to find out. I don't think I'd care to answer those kinds of questions.”

“Neither do I,” Sostratos said.

Menedemos pointed a finger at him. “Would your hetaira want to buy one of the emeralds? I'd bet she's got the cash for it.”

“I'm sure Metrikhe has the cash for it,” his cousin answered. “I mentioned them to her the other day, as a matter of fact. She said, 'They sound very pretty. I'll have to see if one of my friends will buy some for me.'

“Did she?” Menedemos laughed once more. “Sounds like she'd make a splendid merchant if she were a man—never use your own money when you can use someone else's instead.”

“She would. I'm sure of it,” Sostratos said. “And I don't think she'll be poor after her looks go, either. She'll use what she's got wisely.”

“Oh, I don't know. How can you be so sure?” Menedemos said. “Look what she's doing with you—giving it away for nothing. If that's not bad business, I don't know what is.”

Sostratos turned red. Menedemos grinned; he'd hoped that would embarrass his cousin. “If she wants to be foolish that particular way, I won't complain,” Sostratos said.

“No, eh?” Menedemos said. Sostratos tossed his head. Menedemos' grin got wider, not least to hide his annoyance that Sostratos had had such luck here and he hadn't. He'd even hinted a couple of times that he would like to meet Metrikhe—in a purely social way, of course. But Sostratos had made a point of not inviting him along when he went calling. Do you think I'd try to take your woman away? Would I do such a thing to my own cousin? Menedemos knew himself well enough to answer that honestly: if she were pretty enough. I

“Exactly when were you planning to sail?” Sostratos asked.

“Day after tomorrow,” Menedemos answered. “I was thinking we'd spend tomorrow in the agora, try to move as much as we can— silk, dye, perfume—”

“Balsam,” Sostratos broke in. “We only have a little bit of balsam left. It's done well for us.”