Himilkon came down another ten drakhmai. He grumbled and scowled and fumed, as if to show he was being put upon beyond the bounds of reason by doing so.
At length, they settled on two minai, forty-five drakhmai. Sostratos couldn’t get the Phoenician to lower his price even another obolos. Part of him felt he’d made a pretty good deaclass="underline" the part that had noted that even three minai wasn’t a bad price. The other part mourned because he hadn’t been able to get Himilkon down as far as he’d hoped. He shrugged. If he couldn’t decide whether to be pleased, the Phoenician probably had just as many doubts, which meant they were within shouting distance of the right price.
“Do you have a scale?” Sostratos asked. “I want to weigh the amber.”
“Why?” Himilkon was suspicion personified. “We already made the bargain.”
“Yes, of course,” Sostratos said impatiently. “I want to know just how much I have, though, so I can tell my father.”
“Oh. All right.” Himilkon grunted. “Come this way. I use it mostly to weigh spices.” Sostratos followed him through the warren of the warehouse, reflecting that Theseus probably hadn’t had a harder time finding his way through the Labyrinth. The Rhodian also had another reason for wanting the amber weighed: if he knew just how much he was getting, Himilkon couldn’t make a chunk or two disappear before exchanging it for silver.
The amber turned out to weigh less than Sostratos had expected. That set him to worrying again. Was Himilkon laughing at him behind his curly beard? Sostratos said, “Let me take one piece to show my father.”
“I would not do this for just anyone, mind you,” Himilkon said. “For you, and especially for Lysistratos… very well. Take one piece, whichever you choose.” Sostratos picked the one he’d eyed before, the one with the bug in it.
With it in his hand, he hurried up to his house. When he got there, Threissa was pouring water from an amphora onto the herb garden in the courtyard. His father sat on a bench in the courtyard, quietly but most attentively watching the snub-nosed, redheaded slave girl. As far as Sostratos knew, his father had never done anything more than watch Threissa; a husband who bedded a slave in his household was asking for trouble from his wife. Sostratos himself had lain with her several times. Sometimes his lust got the better of him, enough to overcome his disappointment at her lack of enthusiasm.
“Hail, Father,” Sostratos said. “Come see what I’ve got.”
“Oh, hail, Sostratos,” Lysistratos said. Sostratos was convinced that, until he spoke, his father had had no idea he was there. Lysistratos reluctantly dragged his eyes away from the Thracian slave girl and got to his feet. “What is it?”
“ Amber.” Sostratos opened his hand to show the honey-colored jewel. “I’ve just bought quite a bit of it from Himilkon.”
“You have? And this is a sample?” Lysistratos asked. Sostratos dipped his head. “Well, let me have a look,” his father said. When Sostratos gave him the amber, he started to bring it up close to his face, then broke off the gesture with a frustrated grimace. “It gets all blurry when I try to look at it the way I used to,” he grumbled. “Reading’s a trial these days, too.” He held the piece of amber out at arm’s length. “That’s better… It does seem to be of good quality.”
“I’m glad you think so. I did, too.” Sostratos’ grin held real relief. He and his father got on a lot better than Menedemos and Uncle Philodemos, for which he thanked the gods, but he still felt nervous when he made a large purchase in Rhodes on his own.
“This won’t be the only chunk you bought, will it?” Lysistratos asked.
“Oh, no.” Sostratos told exactly how much he’d bought, to the hemiobolos.
His father blinked, then smiled. “I might have known you’d be precise. And precisely how much did you pay? I’m assuming the rest was of the quality of this piece?”
Sostratos dipped his head again. “I thought it was,” he answered. “I paid two minai, forty-five drakhmai for all of it. Himilkon started out wanting three minai, and he wouldn’t come down much.”
“Two minai, forty-five drakhmai.” Lysistratos spoke in musing tones, almost tasting the words. He looked up into the sky, his lips moving silently, as he decided what he thought of that. He wasn’t such a finicky calculator as Sostratos, but he had more experience and, perhaps, better instincts. After half a minute or so, he smiled again. “Euge! That’s very well done, especially if you go to Alexandria next spring. You should get a fine price there.”
“That’s just what I had in mind when I made the deal.” Sostratos beamed. “I’m glad you think I was right.”
“Egypt is rich in gold. It has all manner of precious stones-I remember those fine emeralds your cousin got hold of a couple of years ago. But I’ve never heard of any amber there. The jewelers should slobber all over you, the way dogs will if you come out with a piece of meat.”
“There’s a pretty picture,” Sostratos said, and Lysistratos laughed. Sostratos went on, “We’ll get the rest when I bring Himilkon the silver. He talked about going to Alexandria with amber, too. I trust it more hearing it from you, I will say.”
“I’m a little surprised he let you bring home any amber at all,” his father said.
“He told me he wouldn’t have for most people, but he was making an exception for me-and especially for you,” Sostratos answered. “I took that for a typical piece of Phoenician flattery, but maybe I was wrong.”
“Well, I am flattered that Himilkon would trust the two of us so far,” Lysistratos said. “We’ve done business with him for a while now, and he knows we’re reliable. He’s pretty reliable, too, come to that, as long as you keep an eye on him.”
“You’d better!” Sostratos exclaimed. “That little game he played just before we sailed, buying up all the papyrus in town and then gouging me when I bought it from him… It was cursed clever, and I wish I’d thought of it myself.”
“He’s sly, no doubt of that,” Lysistratos said. “But if a Hellene can’t stay up with a Phoenician when it comes to trade-well, he doesn’t deserve to, that’s all.” He paused, then changed the subject: “Is your cousin well?”
“Menedemos? I think so, though I haven’t seen much of him the past few days,” Sostratos said. “Why?”
“Because I was talking with him this afternoon while you were down by the harbor, and he just didn’t seem himself,” Lysistratos said. “Half the time, when I asked him something, I’d have to ask him twice. It was as though he wasn’t really paying attention to me, as though his mind were somewhere else. He looked worried, too, and that made me worry-about him.”
“I wonder if he’s had a love affair go wrong, or if some husband discovered he was sniffing around where he shouldn’t,” Sostratos said thoughtfully. “That’s what your description sounds like, and I’ve seen him go through spells like that before. Sailing season before last, he seemed awfully glad to get out of Rhodes, and he needed weeks away to get back to his old self. I remember asking him about it, but he wouldn’t say anything. That’s strange all by itself, for he usually likes to brag. Whatever happened, it hit him hard. Maybe this is more of the same.”
“Yes, it could be.” His father also sounded thoughtful. “It certainly could. I’m glad you have better sense than to leap headlong into foolish love affairs, by the dog.”
“Thank you,” Sostratos said. Lysistratos set a hand on his shoulder. Sostratos laid his own hand on his father’s. “And thank you for not jumping down my throat all the time, the way Uncle Philodemos does with Menedemos.”
“Philodemos wants things just so. He always has.” Lysistratos’ face tightened for a moment. “Before he had a son, he used to jump on me instead. That’s one reason I don’t keep you on such a short leash as he does with Menedemos: he taught me not to. And I’m more naturally easygoing than he is. I know things won’t always be just so, and I try not to fret about it the way Philodemos does. And you’re steadier than your cousin, generally speaking, for which I praise the gods.”