Harry Turtledove - Over the Wine-Dark Sea

Two flutegirls came in, one with a single flute, one with a double. They both wore short tunics of thin, gauzy linen. Before they began to play, Menedemos called out to them: "Hail, girls! Who's your master? He might want to know I've got fine Koan silk for sale, so transparent the men'd be wondering if you were wearing anything at all. You'd probably get some extra tips for yourselves that way, too."

"We belong to a man named Lamakhos, sir," replied the girl with the double flute. "You can find him not far from Poseidon's temple." She sighed. "I'd like to wear silk."

"Thanks, sweetheart." Menedemos blew her a kiss. "You'd look good in it." She smiled at him in a marked manner. He smiled, too, even if he didn't think she was especially pretty. Pretty or not, a willing slave made a much better partner than one who was only doing what she had to do.

Sostratos said, "I don't know how you do it, but you always do. You've got her eating out of the palm of your hand."

"It's not that hard," Menedemos answered. "You could do it yourself, if you set your mind to it."

"I don't think that much of her looks," Sostratos said. Menedemos had expected him to say something like that. His cousin most often seemed to find reasons not to have a good time.

"Send the wine around again," Krates told Gylippos' slaves - sure enough, this symposion would center on drinking. The symposiarch waved to the flutegirls. "Let's hear some music, too." The girls raised the flutes to their lips and began to play a love song in the wailing Lydian mode. It wasn't a tune Menedemos knew, but a couple of guests started singing along to it.

He leaned over toward his host. "Is that a Tarentine song?"

Gylippos tossed his head. "I think it comes from Rhegion, the town right opposite Sicily on the Italian coast. It's been all the rage in Great Hellas for the past year or so, though."

"I wonder how I missed it when I was in these parts last summer." Menedemos shrugged. "These things happen."

As the two flutegirls played, a handsome young juggler came into the andron. He was naked; his oiled body gleamed in the torchlight. Gylippos' eyes and those of several other guests hungrily followed him as he kept a stream of balls and knives and cups in the air.

Menedemos turned to Sostratos. "He's not bad at all. How'd you like him to play with your balls?" His cousin had been taking a sip of wine. He snorted and spluttered and did a good impression of a man choking to death. Menedemos laughed. He held up his own cup to show the slaves it was empty. One of them hurried to refill it.

As the juggler went from table to table, Krates got up from his couch and came over to Gylippos. "What's next?" he asked. "Have you got dancers out there in the courtyard?"

"I certainly do," Gylippos answered, "a pair of Kelts from the Keltic country this side of the Alps. Are you ready for them to come on?"

"I think so," Krates said. "People are getting jolly, and there's nothing like a couple of naked girls to liven things up." He spoke to one of Gylippos' slaves, who went over to the doorway and called out into the darkness beyond.

The symposiasts clapped and whooped as the dancers, graceful as leopards, bounded into the andron and began turning cartwheels. Menedemos joined the applause, but more for politeness' sake than anything else. The girls were nicely shaped, but almost fishbelly pale, with hair the color of untarnished copper - not to his taste at all. Both of them also were several digits taller than he.

He took a pull at his cup of wine, then leaned toward Sostratos. "I don't know about you, but I wouldn't want to bed a woman who looks like she can beat me up."

Sostratos didn't answer. After taking a look at his cousin, Menedemos doubted whether he'd even heard him. Sostratos was staring at the two redheaded dancers as if they were the first naked women he'd ever seen in his life, the expression on his face somewhere between awe and raw lust. "Aren't they beautiful?" he murmured, more to himself than to anyone else.

"Funny-looking, if you ask me," Menedemos answered. That made Sostratos notice him, and look at him as if he'd never heard anything so idiotic in all his born days. Menedemos patted him on the shoulder. "Never mind. Some men would sooner chase boys. Some like their women thin, others like them round. If you want to try to tame a wild Kelt or two, go ahead. You're bigger than they are, anyhow."

"They're - unusual," Sostratos said. Menedemos just shrugged. What was unusual, as far as he was concerned, was Sostratos' showing interest in women at a symposion. He was much more likely to want nothing to do with them.

"Enjoy yourself," Menedemos told him. "That's what they're for." He finished the wine in his cup, then set the kylix down and got to his feet. The andron seemed to sway a little as he rose. The Ariousian was potent to begin with, and cutting it with only its own measure of water left it still very strong. He dipped his head to Gylippos and walked out into the courtyard to ease himself.

However bright the torchlight was inside the men's room, it didn't reach far past the door. Menedemos paused for a moment to let his eyes adapt to the darkness outside, then walked over to the far wall and hiked up his tunic. Behind him, the snatches of song accompanying the flutegirls' music grew more raucous. Then a chorus of men's voices let out a loud, bawdy cheer. He knew what that meant: at least one of the girls had started doing something for one of the men. He hoped she'd chosen his cousin. Sostratos deserved more fun than he usually got.

As Menedemos turned to go back to the andron, a woman only a few cubits away gasped in surprise. "Who are you?" she said. "What are you doing here?"

She must not have noticed him in the gloom till he moved. He hadn't seen her, either. "I'm Menedemos son of Philodemos, one of Gylippos' guests," he answered. "And who are you, dear?"

"My name is Phyllis," she told him. "I came down from the women's room for some fresh air because it's so hot and stuffy up there, and I couldn't sleep with all the noise from the symposion. I didn't expect anyone inside there to notice me."

"I had to get rid of some of the wine I'd drunk." Menedemos tried to make out what she looked like, but didn't have much luck in the dim light. She wasn't taller than he was, though - on the contrary - and she sounded young. "How about a quick one, sweetheart? Do you want to lean forward against the wall?"

She laughed quietly. "You work fast, don't you?" she said, and then, giggling again, "Why not? Come over here where it's darker - and hurry."

"I'd follow you anywhere," Menedemos said. She led him into a corner that was dark indeed, then bent forward and down. Menedemos stood behind her and tugged at her chiton, then yanked up his own. He went into her from behind, his hands clutching her backside. She gave a little mewling cry of pleasure that would have worried him more had the andron not been so noisy - and had he not spent himself a moment later.

Phyllis quickly set her clothes to rights. "I've got to go back upstairs," she said. "You were sweet."

"Let me give you half a drakhma," Menedemos said.

She looked back at him over her shoulder as she hurried toward the stairway. "Did you think I was one of the house slaves?" Her laugh was all breath and no voice, but full of mirth just the same. With a toss of her head, she told him, "I'm Gylippos' wife." She hurried up the steps and was gone.

Menedemos gaped after her as if she'd hit him in the head with a rock. "Oh, by the gods," he muttered, "how do I get myself into these things?" But the answer to that was only too obvious - and getting into her had been most enjoyable. He laughed, too, though it wouldn't be so funny if his host found out.

When he strolled back into the andron, Gylippos said, "What were you doing out there so long? Diddling one of the slave girls?"