This was a side of Hippalos' character that I had not known of. Later that day, I went to Sisonaga's hut. Sure enough, there was my mate in one of the postures of yoga. He lay on his back, with his body raised in an arch so that only his head, shoulders, and feet touched the ground. Sisonaga, sitting in the sun, was droning philosophy.
When I arrived, Hippalos scrambled to his feet, crying: "Rejoice, dear Eudoxos! By Mother Earth, I didn't know you with that thing on your head. We had begun to fear that you had passed to your next incarnation. Did you get what you went for?"
"No. The man in Mahismati handed out the same kind of rubbish as our friend here." (Since we spoke Greek, Sisonaga could not understand us.) "He sent me to another man in Ozenê, who seemed to talk better sense; but he turned out to be a rascal who tried to rob and murder me."
"Then you've given up your quest?"
"That particular quest. But look here, I want that ship ready to sail in two days. You'll have to get to work right now."
"My dear fellow! The wisdom of the East is far more important Linos can handle the details as well as I."
I glowered at him. "My good Hippalos, that ship will sail hi two or three days, with or without you. If you would be aboard it, you shall obey orders. If you'd rather spend your life listening to this old faker's twaddle, I shall manage without you. I will count ten, while you make up your mind. One —two—three—"
"Oh, I'll come, I'll come, I'll come," cried Hippalos. He turned to Sisonaga, placed his palms together, and bowed over them, saying in Indian: "The world calls me back, reverend guru. I hope to pay you a last visit ere I depart."
As we walked back to the ship, I said: "Do you take all the old man's mystical nonsense seriously?"
"Why Eudoxos, what a way to talk about matters too profound for your limited, materialistic understanding! Of course I take it seriously. Don't you?"
"I think they're either fools or fakers, and often a bit of both."
"You're prejudiced because they couldn't help you to indulge your beastly sensual appetites. I suppose you think you know how the universe works better than men who have devoted a lifetime to thinking about it?"
"I have no idea how the universe works. As for your Indians, I suppose that one of them might hit upon some arcane truth now and then. But which one? Their doctrines differ widely among themselves, and they differ likewise from those of Hellenes who have thought just as long and hard on these matters. Obviously they can't all be right, and if even one of them is, all the others must be wrong. How can one tell?"
Hippalos: "By persevering study, I have thus gained my first glimpse of the true nature of things, and I know it is true because my inner consciousness tells me so. Perhaps it is my karma to bring the truths of yoga to the benighted West."
"If you ever get thrown out of the Ptolemaic court, it'll be useful to have some confidence game to fall back on."
"Incurably blind to the higher truths, that's all you are," said Hippalos. Although he had borne a solemn face, now the corners of his mouth twitched in the old satyrlike grin, and I could swear he gave a half-wink. One never knew whether Hippalos was being serious. Probably he took nothing much to heart, save as it bore upon his own self-interest.
"But tell me of your journey," he continued. "What's Farther India like?"
I told him some of my experiences. When I described conditions in Ozenê, I added: "We in the West may be blind to higher truths, but we have better sense than to fight over religious doctrines or to try to rule people's private lives and morals by law. Now, what's this about your mistreating that Indian girl?"
"Don't believe everything you hear. All I did was to scold the wench for not sweeping the scorpions out of the hut, and she went galloping off to her old man with all sorts of wild tales. I say, what's that thing around your neck?"
"This?" I held up the statue of Ganesha. "A gift from King Girixis of Mahismati." I repeated what the king had told me about the nature of this god and the properties of the amulet.
"Do you believe in these powers?"
"No. That is, I have no reason to believe them, but I would not flatly deny them, either."
"Sisonaga has theories about the action of minds at a distance, by means of some sort of cosmic radiation. He thinks the belief of people in amulets and idols endows these objects with such powers. Would you take a drachma for that little thing?"
"I don't want to sell it."
"Give you two drachmai."
"No," I said.
"Five!"
"I said, I don't want to sell. Don't pester me."
"It's nothing in you; you're a wicked Pyrronian skeptic who believes in nought. But I really want it. I'll pay any reasonable price."
"If you must have an amulet, why don't you buy one in a local shop? They have plenty of them on display."
"Because I feel a mystic affinity for that one. It must be that the stars were in the same positions when it was cast as when I was born, or something. Why won't you let me have it?"
"I mean to keep it until the end of this voyage, since you've convinced me that it might just possibly work. But I'll tell you. After the journey is over, if you come to see me in Kyzikos, I'll give you this gimcrack free. Now let's think of getting the ship ready. Have you had the bottom scraped?"
We discussed the inspection of ropes and sails, the loading of the cargo, and such professional matters. I spent my first evening with the crew, telling them my adventures. I did not minimize them; but then, sailors expect a yarn to grow in the telling. The following evening, I paid a farewell visit to Otaspes and his wife.
"This man," said Otaspes to Nakia, "is as stout a traveling companion as one could ask: strong, brave, resourceful, and good-humored. But Oramazdes save me from another journey with him!"
"Why, my dear lord?"
"Wherever he goes, troubles and violence spring up; he draws them as a lodestone draws nails. I have had enough narrow escapes to last me the rest of my days. And then I end the journey with a loss—not his fault, but there you are."
"Speaking of which," I said, "let me repay you for the loss of your trade goods in Ozenê."
"I would not think of it!" he cried. "It was your servant's risk; the loss might as well have been yours ..."
We had an hour-long, amiable wrangle, I pressing payment upon him and he refusing on his honor as a Persian gentleman. At last he let me give him the horses on which Gnouros and I had ridden home.
I also told him about the curious doings of Hippalos in my absence. Nakia said:
"Believe not that man's tale, Master Eudoxos. I saw the burns on the girl's body. The father brought her here, hoping that Otaspes could do something to get justice, for my lord has a good name in Barygaza."
On the fifth day after my return, we loaded our last supplies. Otaspes and Nakia came down to see me off; we embraced and parted. I never saw those dear people again; for, when I returned to India, they had left for their Karmanian home.
The return voyage was uneventful. As the six-month wind wafted us across the Arabian Sea towards the Southern Horn, Hippalos brought out a game set he had bought in Barygaza —at least, I suppose he bought it. This is a kind of war game called chaturanga. It is played on a square board divided into sixty-four small squares. Four players play as pairs of partners. Each player has an "army" of eight pieces: four foot soldiers, a horse, a ship, an elephant, and a king. Each piece has its own rules for moving, which makes the game far more complex than "robbers" or "sacred way." The pieces are beautifully carved from ivory—at least, those of Hippalos' set were. Each player sets up his army in one corner of the board, and throws of dice determine who shall move first.