From behind them,Himilkon said, "Because I've dealt with your families before, I might -  justmight, mind you -  let you have six birds for five minai, though I'd not do itfor any other men born of woman." With the best appearanceof reluctance they could manage, Menedemos and Sostratos turned back. Thelittle crowd of hangers-on sighed and shifted their feet and made themselvescomfortable, ready to enjoy a long, vituperative dicker. They got one, too. Aftermuch shouting and many invocations of gods both Greek and Phoenician, the twocousins settled with Himilkon on fifty drakhmai for each of the peahens andseventy-five for the peacock. Just when everything seemed agreed, Menedemossuddenly tossed his head and said, "No, it won't do." Himilkon eyed himapprehensively. "What now?" Holding up the fancytail feather he'd bought, Menedemos said, "Seventy-four drakhmai, threeoboloi for the peacock." The Phoenician dug histongue into his cheek, feeling for the silver coins he'd already got fromMenedemos. "All right," he said. "Seventy-four drakhmai, threeoboloi it is." "We'll haveourselves an interesting cargo when the Aphrodite sails," Sostratos said,as he and Menedemos walked back from the harbor to their homes, which sat sideby side near Demeter's temple in the northern part of the city. "Father's got thosejars of ink in the warehouse," Menedemos agreed, "and the rolls ofpapyrus with them, and the vials of Egyptian poppy-juice, too. And we'll put inat Khios and pick up some wine." He ran his tongue over his lips."Nothing finer than Khian. It's thick as honey, and even sweeter." "Khian's a lotstronger than honey, too," Sostratos observed. "Those are vintagesyou need to drink well-watered." With a snort, Menedemossaid, "Those are vintages you can drink well-watered, my dear cousin. Me,I like to have some fun every so often."