"Well . . . no." Again, Sostratos admitted what he could hardly deny. He tried to rally: "Come with me to the courtyard, and you'll see why we do sell them."
He led the Italian through the entry hall and into the rather cramped courtyard at the center of the house. There stood Menedemos, hands on hips, glowering at the peacock. Maybe he'd dozed off and it had wakened him. And there stood the peacock himself, his ocellated tail fully spread as he displayed himself to a peahen that took no notice whatever of him. Maybe that's why he's screaming, Sostratos thought - in some ways, the peacock wasn't so different from a man.
"Oh," Herennius Egnatius said softly, and then something in his own language - Oscan, Sostratos supposed it was. The sounds weren't so very different from those of Greek, though of course Sostratos couldn't understand the words. After a moment, the Samnite recovered and returned to Greek: "Now I do understand. What is your price?"
"Before we speak of such things, let me introduce you to my cousin, Menedemos son of Philodemos," Sostratos said. "Menedemos, here I have Herennius Egnatius, who is interested in peafowl."
Menedemos instantly went from grouchy to charming, clasping the Italian's hand and saying, "Very pleased to make your acquaintance, sir. May I get you a cup of wine? It's just a local vintage, I'm afraid, though if you should want our Ariousian I could get you a sample."
Herennius Egnatius shook his head; as it did to Himilkon the Phoenician and to many other barbarians, that meant no to him. "The local wine will do well enough for me. I am looking for a way to make myself stand out. Many traders bring fine wine to Italy; some even bring it up to Samnium. But I have never seen such a bird as that." His eyes kept going back to the gleaming polychrome splendor of the peacock's plumage.
"We have only the one peacock." Menedemos stuck his thumb in the air to emphasize the point. "We have four peahens, and we have - how many eggs now, Sostratos?"
"Twenty-nine," Sostratos answered: he was the fellow who kept track of things. "The first of them should start hatching in less than half a month."
"Thanks." Menedemos dipped his head and went on, "Twenty-nine eggs, then. Unless you make us an extraordinary offer for the peacock, we would rather sell you a peahen or some eggs, to let you start your own flock in . . .?"
"I live in Caudium." The Samnite shook his head again, and pointed at the peacock. "This is the bird I want. I will also buy a peahen, so that I may breed peafowl for myself."
He didn't lack for arrogance. Gently, Sostratos said, "As my cousin told you, you would have to make an extraordinary offer, because we probably would not be able to get so much for the other peahens and the eggs without the peacock to show what the buyer is really getting."
"I understand," Herennius Egnatius said. "I also understood your cousin. For the pair of birds, I will pay five minai of silver in the money of Taras."
"Five minai." Sostratos did his best to sound thoughtful rather than delighted. That was a good deal more than Menedemos and he had paid for all six peafowl. Of course, the Samnite didn't know what they'd paid.
No sooner had that thought crossed his mind than Menedemos said, "I'm sorry, sir, but we do have to make a profit. Ten minai for the pair would, but five?" He tossed his head. If he had any trouble concealing his delight, he didn't show it.
"I am sure you would make a profit on ten minai," Herennius Egnatius said. The haggling began. It followed familiar lines - except that the Samnite didn't realize how high his opening offer was. Sostratos and Menedemos made sure he didn't figure it out, either: they bargained with him as hard as if that first offer were outrageously low. By fighting over every drakhma, they made him think it was.
"Is the Tarentine drakhma lighter or heavier than ours?" Menedemos asked as the dicker drew toward a close.
"A little heavier," answered Sostratos, who'd had to change money - and to pay the fee for doing it.
"Well, shall we take eight minai, fifty drakhmai, then?" Menedemos said.
But now Sostratos was the one to toss his head. "No. I think eight minai, seventy-five drakhmai is the least we can take. I hate going below nine minai at all." He folded his arms across his chest and gave Herennius Egnatius as stony a stare as he could. He didn't think the Samnite would walk away from the deal - the fellow had already talked himself into buying the birds, which meant he had to talk the men who owned them into selling.
And, sure enough, Herennius Egnatius nodded to show he agreed. "I shall pay you eight minai, seventy-five drakhmai of Taras for the peacock and a peahen," he said, and held out his hand. Sostratos and Menedemos clasped it in turn. The Samnite went on, "Let me go back to the house of my guest-friend. My slaves and I will bring you the money this afternoon."
"That will do," Sostratos said, and Menedemos dipped his head. Sostratos went on, "If you don't mind my asking, why did you bring so much money here to Taras in the first place? It can't have been for peacocks."
"No," Herennius Egnatius said. "I came here to buy a fancy woman and bring her back with me. But your birds will set me apart from my neighbors even better. Anyone can buy a fancy woman, but not just anyone can have a peacock."
"I see," Sostratos said, and he did, too. A social climber, that's what he is. Sostratos had to fight to hold his face straight. Who would have thought a backwoods Italian town spawned social climbers?
Anticipation in his voice, Herennius Egnatius added, "I should like to see Gellius Pontius match me now." He bowed to Sostratos, and then to Menedemos. "Thank you, gentlemen. I shall see you this afternoon."
As soon as he'd left, Menedemos said, "Aristeidas!"
"What is it?" asked the sailor serving as doorman.
"Hurry over to the Aphrodite," Menedemos answered. "Round up six or eight sailors and get 'em back here as fast as you can. Have 'em bring swords - not knives, swords - and wear helmets if they've got 'em. Don't waste time - get moving."
Aristeidas dipped his head and was gone. Sostratos said, "You don't think - ?"
"That he'd try to steal the birds instead of paying for them?" Menedemos shrugged. "The Samnites are warriors, which means they're robbers if they see the chance. If he doesn't see the chance, I think he'll be mild as overwatered wine and sweet as honey."
Sostratos didn't have to ponder that for very long before he said, "You're probably right. Better safe than sorry."
"Just what I thought myself," Menedemos said. "I'm going to wear my sword, too. And you ought to dig yours out and belt it on."
"Me?" That hadn't occurred to Sostratos. "But I'm a hopeless dub when it comes to fighting."
"You know that, and I know that, but Herennius Egnatius doesn't know it," Menedemos said. "All he knows is that you're taller than anybody has any business being and that you'll have a sword on your belt. Nobody who hasn't seen you working in the gymnasion wants any trouble with you."
The obvious implication was that anyone who had seen Sostratos at his exercises wouldn't worry about him very much. Since the obvious implication was true, he said no more than, "Let me rummage through my gear. I hope I didn't leave the blade back on the Aphrodite."
"You'd better not have!" Menedemos exclaimed.
"Taras is a civilized city," Sostratos said with dignity. "Am I a barbarian, to go armed inside a polis?" But then, automatically looking at the other side of things, he went on, "Of course, Taras isn't an ordinary polis, like the ones back in Hellas, not with the Italian barbarians just over the border. And there are some towns farther north that used to be Hellenic, but that the Italians have overrun."
"Thanks for the history lesson, but save it for another time," Menedemos said dryly. "What you need to do now is find that sword."
Sostratos went through the two duffel bags he'd brought from the ship. Somewhat to his own surprise, he discovered the sword at the bottom of the second one. The bronze scabbard slapped against his left thigh after he put on the sword belt. He felt as if he should lean a little to the right to compensate for the weight of blade and sheath.
Me
nedemos, by contrast, looked quite impressively martial with a sword on his hip. "What I wish I had is a hoplite's spear," he said. "But there's not much point to bringing one aboard ship, is there?"
Someone knocked on the door to the rented house. "If that's the Samnite here so soon, I wish you had a spear, too," Sostratos said. But it wasn't - it was Aristeidas, back from the Aphrodite with half a dozen men, Diokles among them.
"So you've sold a couple of birds, have you?" the oarmaster said. "That'll make a nice pile of silver, I expect. Don't blame you a bit for wanting to make sure you get it." He carried a stout, iron-headed club in place of a sword. Sostratos wouldn't have wanted to stand against him.
A couple of the sailors looked a little the worse for wear from wine, but they all seemed ready to fight if it came to that. Sostratos hoped it wouldn't. But his cousin was right: being ready for trouble made it less likely.
Half an hour later, another knock sounded. Sostratos opened the door again. There stood Herennius Egnatius. He had a sword on his hip, too. The four stocky, broad shouldered men at his back didn't look like slaves - they looked like soldiers. They all wore helmets, three of bronze, one of iron. One of them did carry a spear; the others wore swords. Seeing the blade on Sostratos' belt, the Samnite said, "I don't care to be robbed carrying money through the streets."
"Of course not," Sostratos answered smoothly. He stood aside. "Come in."
The Samnite's retainers and the sailors from the Aphrodite eyed one another. Herennius Egnatius took the armed Hellenes in stride. "I see you are men who let no one use you unjustly," he said. "That is very good."
"Not that you would have done such a thing," Sostratos said, not raising an eyebrow - much.
"Of course not," Herennius Egnatius said blandly. "Perhaps it is just as well that we have no misunderstandings."
"Indeed." Sostratos' eyebrow climbed a little higher. "I hope you did bring the money as well as your retainers, on the off chance you might need it."
"I did." If Herennius Egnatius noticed Sostratos' sarcasm, he didn't acknowledge it. He spoke to one of his own men in Oscan. Again, Sostratos was struck by how similar the sounds of the language were to those of Greek, though he could make out none of the words. The Samnite had to repeat himself, raising his voice the second time; his retainers were as captivated by their first sight of the peacock as he had been. The bird's display even kept them from sending quite so many mute challenges to the sailors from the Aphrodite.
The leather sack the Samnite retainer handed to Sostratos was nicely heavy with silver. "I thank you," Sostratos said. By the shrug the Samnite gave him, the fellow knew no Greek. Sostratos turned back to Herennius Egnatius. "As soon as I have counted the coins, the birds are yours."
Counting out 875 drakhmai took some little while. There were fewer than 875 coins in the sack, for it held didrakhms and tetradrakhms as well as the pieces of silver worth a single drakhma. Not all of them were Tarentine coins; a fair number came from Syracuse. Sostratos went into a back room and weighed a Syracusan drakhma against a Tarentine counterpart. When the coin from Syracuse proved heavier, he came back and went on counting without another word.
At last, he dipped his head. "This is payment in full for the peacock and for one peahen," he said formally, and held out his hand to Herennius Egnatius. As formally, the Samnite clasped it.
"How shall I take the birds back to my guest-friend's house?" Herennius Egnatius asked.
"If you'd like, I can sell you the cages in which we brought the birds from Hellas," Sostratos replied. "Or, if you would rather, you can put ropes round their necks so they don't run away. I wouldn't try just herding them through the streets of Taras - they can run about as fast as a man can."
Herennius Egnatius drew himself up straight again. Speaking as proudly as a Hellene might have, he said, "I think five men can control two birds." He switched languages. After a couple of sentences of Oscan, his followers nodded. They thought they could handle the peafowl, too.
Sostratos shrugged. "The birds are yours, O best one. Do with them as you please. You asked me a question, and I answered it as best I could."
Maybe a couple of the Samnites had experience herding geese, for they managed to chivvy the peacock and peahen out the door and onto the street without too much trouble. Sostratos closed the door after them. When he came back into the courtyard, Menedemos said, "There's two of the miserable birds gone, anyhow."
"Many good-byes to them, too," Sostratos said. "May we get rid of the rest soon." The two cousins both dipped their heads.
Gylippos was a fat fellow who'd made a fortune in dried fish. His andron was large and, by Tarentine standards, splendidly decorated, though to Menedemos the wall paintings, the couches, and even the wine cups in the men's chamber were gaudy and busy. Gylippos himself was gaudy, too, with heavy gold rings on several fingers.
He wagged one of those fingers at Menedemos, who reclined on the couch next to his. "You were a naughty fellow, selling that barbarian the one peacock you had," he said.
Menedemos answered, "He paid me well. His silver's as good as anyone else's." Better than yours would have been, he thought, because you'd have been careful to give me the exact weight of metal we agreed on, and not an obolos more. Had all cities coined to the same standard, life would have been simpler. As things were, the fellow who took pains in his dealings with money had the edge on the man who didn't.
Gylippos wagged that finger again. His slaves had already cleared away the supper plates - he'd served squid and octopus and oysters and eels with the sitos: no dried fish for his guests - but the symposion that would follow hadn't started yet. He said, "And the scene he made in the streets getting the peacock to the house where he's staying! My dear fellow, you couldn't have done more to build demand for the birds if you'd tried for a year. Everybody saw the peacock, and everybody wants it."
Sostratos shared the couch with Menedemos. As usual, Menedemos had taken the head, though his cousin was older. Sostratos hadn't complained; he never did. He did speak up now, though: "That parade was the Samnite's idea, not ours. I offered to sell him two peafowl cages. I even suggested that he use ropes to keep the birds from running every which way. He wouldn't listen."
"And so," Menedemos added with a grin, "he had half the people in Taras chasing his precious peacock - and the peahen, too. You're right, best one" - he inclined his head to Gylippos - "we couldn't have made more folk notice the birds with anything we did on purpose."
"You certain couldn't." The purveyor of dried fish looked past Menedemos to Sostratos. "As for trying to tell an Italian anything, well . . ." He tossed his head. "I don't think it can be done. Samnites are stubborn as mules, and the Romans to the north of them are just as bad. It's no wonder they're bumping heads again."
"Again?" Sostratos looked interested. Menedemos recognized the eagerness in his cousin's voice - he hoped he'd find out about some obscure bit of history he hadn't known before. Sure enough, Sostratos went on, "They've fought before?" It was, Menedemos supposed, a harmless vice.
"Yes, a generation ago," Gylippos answered. "The Romans won that fight, and the Samnites went to war with them again ten or twelve years ago. They won a big battle early on, but the Romans were too stubborn to quit, so they've just been hammering away at each other ever since."
Another guest of Gylippos', a Tarentine with a face like one of the host's dried fish, said, "The Samnites who overran some of our poleis in Campania are almost civilized these days."
"Well, so they are, Makrobios - some of them." But Gylippos didn't seem much impressed. "And some of the Hellenes who have to live under their rule are almost civilized, too, if you know what I mean. Greek with an Oscan accent is ugly whether it comes out of a Samnite's mouth or out of a Hellene's."
"It sounds better than Greek with a Latin accent," Makrobios said.
"What's Latin?" Menedemos and Sostratos asked the question at the same time.
"The language the Romans speak," the fish-fac
ed Makrobios answered. He held up his hand with the fingers spread. "We say pente. When the Samnites mean five, they say pumpe - not much different, eh? So you can understand a Samnite when he talks Greek."
"That Herennius Egnatius didn't speak badly," Menedemos agreed.
"But when the Romans mean five, they say quinque" Makrobios pronounced the barbarians' word with obvious distaste. "I ask you, how can anyone who makes noises like that learn good Greek?"
"Some of those Campanian cities are doing pretty well for themselves, though, even if they've got Samnites ruling them," Menedemos said. "I was thinking of taking the Aphrodite up that way after I've done all the business here I can."
Makrobios shrugged. "Whatever you like, of course. Perhaps I'll see you again afterwards. On the other hand, perhaps I won't, too." His clear implication was that perhaps nobody would see Menedemos again afterwards.
With some irritation, Menedemos asked, "Do you think I'd be wiser to go to Syracuse? I don't, by the gods."
"Well, neither do I," the Tarentine admitted. "Unless Agathokles does something extraordinary, I don't see how he can keep Carthage from taking his city. And he's been ruling Syracuse for seven years now, so I don't know what he can do that he hasn't already done."
"You see my problem, then," Menedemos said. "I'm not going to turn around and go straight back to Hellas when I leave Taras, so what else can I do?"
"Believe me, I'm glad it's not my worry." Makrobios leaned forward. "Tell me, what price are you asking for peafowl eggs?"
"Thirty drakhmai," Menedemos answered at once; he and Sostratos had been over that ground, and had sold a couple of eggs at that price. "From their size, I'd also say you'd do better to have a duck or a goose brood them than a hen."
"And suppose I spend thirty drakhmai and the egg doesn't hatch? What then?" Makrobios demanded.
It was Menedemos' turn to shrug. "I'm afraid that's the chance you take. I'm not a god, to look inside an egg and tell whether it's good or bad."
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