Now we come down to it, Sostratos thought unhappily. “No one has ever said you didn’t, O marvelous one,” he said.

His brother-in-law gave him a sour look, as any educated man would have done. Sokrates had been fond of using that salutation when he felt sarcastic, so that marvelous meant something like marvelously foolish. Damonax went on, “Your family has been most unreasonable about taking some of my olive oil aboard the Aphrodite this sailing season.”

Sostratos didn’t like quarrels. He especially didn’t like quarrels with people with whom he had marriage ties. But he also didn’t like problems with trade, and trade came first. Sighing, he said, “We’ve been over this ground before, you know-more than once, in fact-and you can pour lots of strong wine down my throat, but you still won’t seduce me.”

“If you’d only be reasonable-” Damonax said.

“No.” Sostratos tossed his head. “I’m afraid you’re the one who’s being unreasonable, not me or my father or uncle or cousin. You do know where the akatos is going this spring?”

“Athens, of course,” Damonax replied.

“That’s right.” Now Sostratos dipped his head in agreement. “And since you studied there, the same as I did, you’ll have heard the phrase ‘owls to Athens,’ too, won’t you?” He waited. When Damonax didn’t answer right away, his voice got sharper: “Won’t you?”

“Well… yes,” Damonax said.

“And you’ll also know what it means, isn’t that so?”

His brother-in-law flushed angrily. “Don’t play the game of elenkhos with me. You’re not Sokrates, by the dog of Egypt!”

“All right, my dear. Fine. If you want me to spell it out for you, I will, alpha-beta-gamma.” Sostratos let out an angry exhalation of his own.