The Golden Wind

BOOK I — Hippalos the Corinthian

On the tenth of Mounychion, in the third year of the 165th Olympiad, [*Approx. April 1, 119 B.C. ] when Hipparchos was archon of Athens and Ptolemaios Physkon had reigned as sole king in Egypt for forty-five years, I, Eudoxos son of Theon, left Kyzikos in command of the delegation sent by my city to Alexandria for King Ptolemaios' Persephoneia.

As we coasted the south shore of the Propontis in the state galley Persephonê, we had not gone three hundred furlongs [**1 furlong (stadion)= 1/8 mile.] before we passed the boundary of the Kyzikene lands and came abreast of those ruled by Rome. We made our overnight stops at those Ionian cities—Troy, Mytilenê, and Phokaia, for example—that the Romans had not yet raped of their independence.

Whilst our relations with Rome had been good, a small power like Kyzikos is well advised not to remind the Romans wantonly of its existence. The Romans are great ones for putting their noses into other people's business. It does not take much of a pretext—a tavern brawl between your sailors and theirs will do—to convince them that they owe it to the peace, of the world to take you under their fatherly wing. Then you awaken to find a Roman garrison in your city and a Roman proconsul stealing everything not firmly nailed down and selling you and your family into slavery in Italy.

So we avoided the Roman-ruled cities of Asia Minor. As it was, a Roman fiver came boiling out of the harbor of Ephesos as we passed, signaling us to stop. When the Roman galley drew close, an officer shouted across the water through a speaking trumpet, demanding to know who we were and what our business was. We told him and sailed on. Alas for the great days of Hellas, when the ships of a free Hellenic city went where they listed without anybody's leave!

Eighteen days after we set out, we raised the Egyptian coast near the Sebennytic Mouth of the Nile. I had been to Egypt twenty years before, as supercargo on one of the family's ships. The Egyptian shore showed the same dreary monotony: a land as flat as a marble flagstone in the temple of Persephone, rimmed by a never-ending beach, and beyond it a mass of reeds and a hedge of palms against the sky.

We sailed westward, past Kanopos and Boukiris and little fishing villages, until the coast rose in the slight ridge that passes for a hill in the Delta. And so we came at last to the walls of Alexandria.

At the Bull Channel, a pilot boat, with the red-lion pennant of the Ptolemies whipping from its masthead, led us into the Great Harbor. To our right, on the isle of Pharos, rose Sostratos' colossal, gleaming lighthouse, towering up at least four plethra, [* 1 plethron = 100 feet.] with a plume of smoke streaming from its top. On our left stood the fortifications and barracks at the end of Point Lochias, and then the temple of Isis.

Once we were through the channel, the Great Harbor opened out on all sides. On the right was the mole called the Seven Furlonger, joining the Pharos to the city, with scores of merchantmen tied up along it on both sides. Beyond lay the Old Harbor, or Haven of Happy Return, devoted to commercial and fishing craft. On the left, as we entered the Great Harbor, were the naval docks, with squadrons of Ptolemaic fivers and larger ships. Their hulls were black, and each bore a gilded statue of Alexander on its stern. Beyond and above the warships, the gilded roof tiles of the royal palaces glittered and their marble columns gleamed.

Near the palaces, a section of the harbor was marked off from the rest by a mole. In this inner harbor lay the king's private ships, which included three of the largest vessels in the world. These ships had all been acquired about a hundred years before, in the time of the fourth Ptolemy—Ptolemaios Philopator, the degenerate with whom the dynasty began to go to seed.

One of the ships was Philopator's pleasure barge. Another was a huge vessel built by Hieron of Syracuse. The tyrannos had meant to combine the virtues of a war galley, a merchantman, and a royal yacht in one hull; but the ship proved too slow for war, too costly for commerce, and too crowded for pleasure. So, in disgust, Hieron gave her to Philopator, who liked such nautical freaks.

The third ship was the largest war galley of all time, a for-tier over four plethra long. Four thousand rowers, pulling ten-man oars arranged in four banks, propelled her. She had proved too slow for any practical use, and the hire of so many rowers would have strained the finances even of Egypt; so she had been tied up and neglected. Of the three, the barge was the only one that had been kept up. The two galleys lay forlorn, with most of the paint gone from their woodwork and no oars in their ports. I suppose the kings now and then had their bilges pumped out, or they would have sunk from simple leakage.

The pilot boat led us to a wharf to the right of the naval docks, near the temple of Poseidon on the teeming waterfront. Here several other sacred municipal triremes were drawn up. I recognized the Athenian Salaminia, having seen her several times on voyages to Athens.

We had not finished tying up when a naval inspector in gleaming cuirass and a couple of Greek civilians came aboard. While the inspector went down the line asking every man on board his name and business, and the two customs men poked amongst our baggage, I saw a dozen people hurrying from the mass of palaces to our left, with cloaks flapping and helmet plumes nodding. The nearer they came, the faster they went. At last they broke into a run, the soldiers clattering and the civilians clutching their garments.

As they straggled to the base of the companionway, a furious argument broke out. Fists shook; insults were shouted. Presently two—an army officer whose harness flashed with golden trim, and a tall, red-haired civilian—attempted to ascend the plank at the same time. Since the plank was too narrow for this purpose, they tried to shoulder each other off. Then they fell to pushing and wrestling, shouting: "Out of my way, you collared knave!"

"You're mad, you temple-robbing sodomite!"

"Go to the crows, you thickskin, or I'll cut your lying throat!"

While they strove in this unseemly fashion, another man quietly climbed up on the plank and proceeded to the deck. He was about my age, lean and swarthy, with a shaven head, wearing a long white Egyptian robe and carrying an ornate walking stick. As he approached, panting from his recent run, the other two ceased their battle and followed him up the plank, still muttering threats and insults under their breath. The rest of the party followed.

Stepping down to the deck and speaking good Greek with a trace of Egyptian accent, the white-robed man began:

"Are you Eudoxos of Kyzikos, sir? The peace herald and sacred ambassador of Kyzikos? Rejoice! I, Noptes, high priest of Sarapis, welcome you in the name of His Majesty—"

At that instant the other two, also reaching the deck, burst out: "Rejoice, worthy Eudoxos! I welcome you in the name of Her Majesty—"

Then each of the three tried to shout down the others, so that I could hear nought but an unintelligible babble. At last I banged the deck with my stick and roared:

"By Bakchos' balls, shut up, you three!" Their voices fell off, since I was larger than any of them and far from handsome. "Now," said I quietly, "you got here first, sir priest, so finish your speech. You two shall have your chance later. Go on."

With a flicker of a smile, Noptes continued: "I welcome you in the name of His Majesty, King Ptolemaios the Benefactor. During the Persephoneia, you and your party shall be lodged in apartments in the royal palace. If you will follow me, sir—"

"Wait!" cried the other two together.

"All right," I said and indicated the officer. "You next."

"Sir!" The gleaming soldier brought his heels smartly together. He was a good-looking man in his thirties, with a close-cut black beard, and on his head a black-crested, bowl-shaped Macedonian helmet, with a narrow brim all the way round and cheek pieces of boiled leather tied together under his chin. In a guttural Judaean accent, he began: "I am Ananias of Askalon, deputy commander of the regiment of Her Majesty, Queen Kleopatra the Wife. In the name of Her Majesty, I welcome you and your party to Alexandria for the Persephoneia. You shall stay in the guest house of Her Majesty—"

"My turn!" cried the red-haired civilian. He was almost as tall as I and about the age of the Judaean, with a sharp-pointed nose and slanting eyebrows that gave him the look of a Pan. With a charming smile and an Attic accent that was a little too preciously refined to be convincing, he said:

"My dear Eudoxos, allow me. I am Hippalos of Corinth, choragus to Her Majesty, Queen Kleopatra the Sister, and your servant. Her Majesty begs that you and yours stay in her portion of the palace, which has been redecorated especially for your pleasure—"

"So? The Wife's guest house is far more comfortable!" the Judaean officer broke in.

"I spoke first," said the priest, "and anyway my master is the king!"

All three began to jabber again, whilst their attendants in the background scowled at one another and muttered. It looked as if the deck of the Persephonê would become the scene of a brawl, when I shouted them down again.

"You put us in an embarrassing position," I said. "Why in the name of the Dog can't you settle these arguments before coming here? We would not offend any of your royal masters, but we cannot follow three mutually contradictory sets of orders at once."

The dispute went round and round until the Judaean said: "A story I'll tell you. Once my people were ruled by a wise and mighty king named Solomon, who had a case like this to decide. Two women each claimed a child. After listening to their clack all day, the king offered to cut the child in twain and give half to each—"

"If that be the Judaean notion of wisdom!" said the priest, Noptes. "It only proves—"

"You haven't heard the rest," persisted Ananias. "One woman agreed to this proposal; but the other said no, she would rather the other woman had the child than that it were harmed. So the king knew that the second woman was the true mother—"

"That is all very well," said Noptes, "but we cannot carve up our rulers' guests."

"I don't know why not," said Hippalos the choragus with a sly grin, whereat some of my delegation looked apprehensive. "I'll take the heads, and you two can divide—"

"Enough of your foolery!" said Ananias. "A joke of your mother's funeral you'd make. This is supposed to be a formal, dignified occasion."

"You've solved the problem, nonetheless," I told the Judaean. Turning to my delegation, I told off six men and said: "You six shall go with High Priest Noptes." To another six, I said: "You shall go with Colonel Ananias."

Then I realized that there were only five left, including myself. It would have been more foresighted to have included myself in the group to be lodged by the king, since he wielded the most power; but I did not want to change the arrangements at that stage. I assigned myself and the remaining delegates to Hippalos and told Gnouros to pick up my gear.

Walking along the waterfront towards the palaces, Hippalos chatted familiarly with me. "I say," he asked, "are you Eudoxos the geographer? The author of Description of the Euxine Seal"

"Why, yes. Do you know it here?"

"I've read one of the copies in the Library. It is, I must say, a jolly good coverage of the subject."

"Most of my firm's trade is with the Euxine ports," I explained, "so I know Pantikapaion and the rest from firsthand acquaintance."

"Have you explored the great Scythian rivers?"

"I've been a fair distance up the Hypanis and the Tani's and the Borysthenes. There's not much to see—just a great, grassy plain to the horizon, whereon the Scythians roam with their flocks. I got this little scar—" (I touched my right cheek) "—from a Scythian arrow. I don't care what Homer and the other ancients say; the Scythians are not a notably just and upright race, nor is their climate mild and balmy. In fact, a less balmy one were hard to find."

"Have you ever thought of exploring in the other direction —south of Egypt? All sorts of fascinating mysteries await solution thither."

"I've read the arguments about the sources of the Nile," I said, "but I hadn't thought of trying to solve the problem myself. It's a fascinating riddle; but my exploring has been in the line of commerce, and now I'm getting a little old for roughing it"

"Why, how old are you?" asked Hippalos. When I told him, he exclaimed: "Oh, I say! You don't look a day over forty; just in the prime of life. By Herakles, I should like to make such an exploration! When I was a sailor, I visited all the main ports of the Inner Sea; but I should like to try something more daring and distant. Only, I lack the money and influence to mount such an expedition; the stars have been against me. Perhaps you and I could get together on such a project, eh?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Have you had any experience at that sort of thing?"

"I daresay I've traveled as much as you have, no offense meant. When I was a strolling singer, I jolly well had to learn to live by my wits in strange places."

"Well, it's worth thinking about," I said. In dealing with such people—especially in the East—one never gives them a fiat "no"; they would be offended and try to do one ill. Instead, one says "perhaps" or "another time." Eventually they get the idea without hard feelings. At the time, however, I had no intention of haring off on some crack-brained jaunt with a professional entertainer, however charming and versatile.

We were let in the main gate of the palace area by a pair of Celtic mercenaries: big men with long, brown mustaches, wearing checkered coats and trousers and armed with huge, oval shields and long swords. The palace compound was a vast complex of buildings in ornate modern style, with gilded capitals on the columns and brightly painted entablatures. The area bustled with people coming and going, since these edifices contained the offices of the Egyptian government as well as the living quarters of the rulers.

The party broke up, the guests of each of the three monarchs being taken to a different destination. Hippalos led us into one of the buildings and to a two-room apartment. In the living room, a marble-topped table bore a small water clock which, as we entered, gave forth a sharp ping to signal noon. Hippalos showed us our beds and said:

"The bath is down the hall this way. You will be cleaned up, fed, and given a chance to rest. When the clock strikes the ninth hour, I shall lead you to the audience chamber for presentation to Their Majesties."

Our apartment in the royal palace had one delightful amenity. This was a tub or sink affixed to one wall. From the wall above it protruded a bronze pipe with a valve. This valve had a handle, so that, when one turned it one way, water flowed into the sink; when one turned it the other, the flow stopped. Thus one could wash one's hands and face without shouting for a servant to fetch a bowl and a ewer. Moreover, the sink had a hole in the bottom, closed by a conical pottery plug. From this hole, a pipe went down through the floor to carry off the dirty water. With all these marvelous modern inventions, I foresee the day when we shall all be waited upon by mechanical servants, such as some of the myths tell of.

Three hours after our arrival, freshly bathed, shaved, oiled, and scented, and wearing our best tunics, we were led into the vestibule of the audience hall. It was a day for receiving foreign visitors, since a group of lean, swarthy men from Numidia, with golden hoops in their ears and animal skins wound about their heads, were ahead of us. Ananias and Noptes brought in the rest of my delegation. A fat Egyptian led a group of trousered, bearded Armenians, wearing the distinctive caps of their country, out of the hall. The Egyptian took charge of the Numidians and led them in, while an assistant patted us for hidden weapons.

At last came our turn. Noptes presented us to the fat Egyptian, saying: "Sirs, this is Tetephras, chief usher to Their Majesties."

We murmured the usual courtesies, and Tetephras said: "You shall follow me into the audience hall, gentlemen, halting when I halt. As I state your names and titles, you shall bow individually to the king. Then, when I state the names and titles of the rulers, you shall bow collectively to each ruler as I name him."

"Must we prostrate ourselves?" asked Xenokles, the high priest of Persephone.

"Nay; we ask that not of free Hellenes, but reserve it for Persians, Ethiopians, and the like, who are used to it. Now let me run over your names again. ..."

At last Tetephras, fussing over us like a mother hen, got us lined up in a square and signed to the Macedonian mercenaries at the entrance to open the big doors. Tetephras stepped through the entrance, pounded the floor with his staff, and bellowed:

"The delegation from Kyzikos to the Persephoneia!"

We marched down the length of the hall behind the usher. It was a fine, big room, with many people lining the walls. There were soldiers in gilded accouterments. There were clerks at desks, with pens poised to take down any divine words Their Majesties might utter. There were servants standing ready with napkins, flasks of wine, and other things for the comfort of the rulers, ready to dash forward at a signal. There were several eminent foreigners, invited to the audience as a cheap way of entertaining them.

The torcheres were not lit, since the brilliant sun gave enough light through the clerestory windows above. A dozen incense burners emitted a fog of blue smoke and an overpowering odor. A small orchestra twanged and tootled as we marched forward.

Down the hall we went to the far end, where Their Majesties sat enthroned. The thrones were, I am sure, of wood covered with gold leaf, notwithstanding that some Alexandrines claim they are solid gold.

Although I knew what to expect, I still goggled at the contrast between the pomp and glitter on one hand and Their Majesties' unprepossessing appearance on the other. On the central and largest throne sat King Sausage himself.

Physkon was in his middle sixties, bald as an ostrich egg and shaped like one, too. Although a short man, he must have weighed at least five talents and could hardly waddle without the help of servants. He wore Egyptian costume. A long-sleeved tunic of thin white linen reached to his ankles. A broad collar of gold and jewels, in the old Egyptian style, hung around his neck. On his bald head sat the towering double crown, of red and white felt, of Upper and Lower Egypt. Under this crown, his pale, blotched face was one vast roll of fat, through which a pair of sharp little black eyes peered out His painted lips were as full and thick as those of an Ethiop.

Looking at Physkon's unlovely form, I found it easy to believe the tales about him. The fifth Ptolemy had begotten three legitimate children: two boys and a girl. In accordance with the local custom, the older son married his sister and succeeded his father as Ptolemaios Philometor. Then Philometor died. His younger brother, the present Physkon, had taken the throne as a youth of eighteen. He married the same sister, and—on his wedding night—killed the son of his bride by his brother. Not surprisingly, the two soon fell out, and the sister-wife's followers drove Physkon out of Egypt. Then, for nearly twenty years, he reigned in Cyprus. When he got his hands on the son that the queen had borne him, he had the lad killed and his head and hands embalmed and sent to her in a fancy casket, just to vex her.

Eventually, Physkon fought his way back to Egypt and was reconciled—on the surface, at least—with his wife. In the meantime her other child by Philometor, a girl, had grown up, and Physkon decided that he preferred the younger woman. He declared the mother divorced and married the daughter, but the mother refused to accept this proceeding. After another civil war, the three settled down to a wary but more or less peaceful coexistence, vigilantly watching one another for attempts at murder.

Since both queens were named Kleopatra, to tell them apart the mother was called "the Sister" and the daughter, "the Wife." I do not think we should have received so royal a welcome had it not been for the competition amongst these three monarchs, each striving to put one over on the other two. TO Theon: You had better cut out most of the above remarks about the Ptolemies before submitting this manuscript to Lathyros or any other member of the family. Father.]

Behind Physkon's throne stood another pair of Celtic mercenaries. To one side was an officer in Greek parade armor, who—judging from his swartness—must have been another Egyptian. Under the early Ptolemies, the Hellenes and Macedonians had formed the ruling class in Egypt, and no nonsense about it. Not getting on well with his Greek subjects, Physkon favored the native Egyptians. This enraged the Hellenes, who saw their privileges slipping away.

On the old monster's right—our left—sat Queen Kleopatra the Sister, about the same age as Physkon and almost as fat. The incestuous marriages of the Ptolemies had passed on, in full purity, the obesity they inherited from the original Ptolemaios, a general of Alexander of Macedon and the founder of the dynasty. The elder Kleopatra was another mountain of sagging fat, clad in a white gown of Hellenic cut, with a golden crown on her red-dyed hair and a veil of purple byssus over it. The paint on her face was so thick that I will swear it was peeling. Another officer stood beside her throne. Being deaf, she shouted at this man:

"What did you say? Who is that big, ugly fellow with the long, hairy arms, in front?" She meant me.

On our right sat Queen Kleopatra the Wife, a woman in her forties, plump but not so mountainous as her mother or her husband-uncle-stepfather. She wore a dress of gaudy red and white stripes in the Judaean fashion, and so much jewelry that she clattered every time she moved. Her officer was a muscular man with a graying beard. I learned that this was General Chelkias, Colonel Ananias' elder brother and commander of Her Majesty's Regiment.

Alexandria was inhabited by three races: the Hellenes, the Judaeans, and the Egyptians. Each tribe lived in its own part of the city. Since they differed widely in morals and customs, murder and rioting between one group and another were frequent. The only time the Alexandrines all acted together was when they rioted against some unpopular ruler, as they had done against Physkon in the early days of his reign. Physkon soon put a stop to that; he turned his mercenaries loose on the rioters. Soon blood ran in streams in the gutters, and heads were piled in man-high heaps in the public squares. This is not my idea of how to run a civilized country; but, with a populace as fickle and turbulent as that of Alexandria, it may be the only way that works.

Since Alexandria was so divided in population, each of the three rulers relied for support upon one of the groups. Physkon sought the sympathy of the Egyptians; the Sister, of the Hellenes; the Wife, of the Judaeans. They even had three separate armies. Physkon's soldiers wore red crests on their helms; the Sister's, white crests; the Wife's, black crests. Each color was represented in the audience hall, standing in squads where they could quickly come to the aid of their respective sovrans if the latter were attacked.

The music stopped. Tetephras halted and roared: "I present to Your Divine Majesties the illustrious Eudoxos son of Theon, peace herald and sacred ambassador of the city of Kyzikos and holder of many distinguished offices in that city; the Reverend Xenokles, high priest of Persephonê in Kyzikos; and the eminent members of his Board of Sacrificers: Master Hipponax, Master Kerdon, and Master Timaios; the athletes: Master Anaxis the wrestler ..." and so on. Then he turned to us:

"Gentlemen: I present you to His Divine Majesty, Ptolemaios Evergetes, the king of Egypt, Cyrene, Cyprus, and other outlying possessions; Her Divine Majesty, the Queen Kleopatra the Sister; Her Divine Majesty, the Queen Kleopatra the Wife; and the divine children: the Prince Ptolemaios Philometor, the Prince Ptolemaios Alexandras, and the Prince Ptolemaios Apion."

These last were three youths, who sat on small thrones flanking the three large ones. Ranging in age from twelve to eighteen, all had the short, tubby Ptolemaic build. The first two were the sons of Physkon and the Wife; the third, of Physkon and a concubine. The first, Ptolemaios Philometor, was the one we now call "Lathyros." Physkon also had two daughters by the Wife, who later married Seleucid princes, but neither was present. On our right, a lean, stooped, gray-bearded, tutorial-looking man stood behind the two youngest Ptolemies.

We bowed this way and that until we were dizzy. I presented the gifts we had brought: a golden-hilted sword for Physkon (albeit he could have wielded nothing more warlike than a toothpick), a bronze statuette for the Sister, and a jeweled tiara for the Wife. I made my speech, telling the rulers how wonderful they were and how honored we were by their gracious hospitality. Knowing that, for all their pomp and finery, all three were probably bored half to death, I kept the oration short.

Physkon nodded and said, in a voice that reminded me of gas bubbling out of a swamp: "Thrice welcome, gentlemen! Our Divine Majesties rejoice in the safe arrival of the distinguished delegation from the illustrious city of Kyzikos. We welcome you with Our most gracious cordiality and trust that you will enjoy your sojourn in Our glorious capital. It will be Our pleasure to have further intercourse with you as circumstances permit. Our servants will make the arrangements. You have Our gracious leave to withdraw. Be in good health!" .

We all bowed again and backed down the hall, as Tetephras had instructed us. As we reentered the vestibule another group awaited admittance. These were Parthians: proud, fierce-looking men in short jackets and long, baggy trousers, with bulbous felt hats on their long, curled hair and great, sweeping mustaches, waxed so that they stood out like the horns of bulls.

Tetephras told us: "Tonight you shall dine in the visitors' dining hall. Entertainment will be furnished. Father Noptes will take you in charge at the eleventh hour." He dropped his voice. "You, Master Eudoxos, are requested to keep tomorrow evening open."

"Oh?"

"Aye. No slight to your delegation is meant, but His Majesty wishes your advice on a question of geography, for which the presence of the others would not be useful. There will be an intimate supper, so be ready."

That evening, Noptes collected us and brought us to our places in the visitors' dining hall. Then he excused himself, saying he had duties in the temple of Sarapis.

The couches were arranged in groups, one for each set of visitors. These included delegations from other Hellenic cities and, in addition, the Armenians, the Numidians, and the Parthians whom I had seen earlier in the day. As head of my delegation, I felt it my duty to make the rounds of the other groups, introducing myself and passing a few words with each. The head of the Numidians, a tall, hawk-nosed man named Varsako, asked me in stumbling Greek:

"Master Eudoxos, pray—ah, please tell me: how can I get —get copy of play by great Greek playwrights? You know, Aischylos and—ah—Sopho—Sophokles? Our King Mikipsa, le say there should be more culture in Numidia, so he ask me get manuscripts. How to do?"

"Do you know where the Library is?"

"Nay. I have never been in city big like Alexandria."

"Well, I have never seen the Library, either; but I don't think it's far from here. Any Alexandrine can direct you. When you get there, apply to the Chief Librarian for the services of a copyist. Since it's a request from a king, he ought to assign you one without cost."

"Who is Chief Librarian?"

"One Kydas, I believe."

The next set of couches I stopped at were those of the Parthians. To my surprise, the chief Parthian greeted me in excellent Greek. After we had passed the amenities, he said:

"I heard your advice to the Numidian, Master Eudoxos. Do not tell him to apply to Kydas."

"Why not?"

"Because Kydas is a mere retired soldier, to whom Phys— ah—to whom His Divine Majesty gave the job as a sinecure. He knows nought and cares less about literature, and a request left with him will be simply forgotten."

"What, then?"

"Bid him apply to the Assistant Librarian, Ammonios. Then he'll get some action. Our king, who is also a tiger in the pursuit of culture, commanded me to get him some manuscripts on my last mission hither. So I know."

On my way back to my couch, I passed the word to Varsako, who was effusive in his gratitude. After the repast, our red-haired friend Hippalos brought in an orchestra and signed them to strike up a tune. He clapped his hands, and in came a squad of girls, who hung garlands of rare red and blue lotus flowers around our necks and went into their dance. As the wine was passed, Hippalos came in and sat on the end of my couch.

"You certainly have those girls well drilled," I said.

"I learnt the trick when I was a drillmaster in the army of Antiochos Grypos of Syria," he said with his satyrlike grin. "If you want one of those girls for the night, old boy, I can arrange it." When I hesitated, he dropped his voice and added: "Or, if you prefer boys, I can arrange that, too."

"Thanks, but I'm under a vow of chastity for the nonce." Naturally I was not going to admit my real reason for refusing.

"By the two goddesses, how utterly beastly!" said Hippalos. "But look, dear Eudoxos, I'm serious about this African venture. I know something about you and your shipping firm. By

Hera, with your money and my wit, we could garner immortal fame—"

"My good Hippalos, you have a fine job right here. Why are you so eager to go galloping off on a hunt for gryphon's eggs? You'd probably only get yourself speared and eaten by the natives, or swallowed by one of those league-long serpents they tell about. What's the matter with your present situation?"

He smiled a sly, crooked smile. "You had a good look at my divine employer today, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"How long would you guess that she'll continue to shed her radiance on this earthly plane?"

I shrugged. "It's dangerous to guess about such things where you might be overheard. But I get your point."

"And, when the kingdom changes hands, many that were "at the top of the ladder before find themselves at the bottom. A wise man foresees these things and makes preparations. But I'll talk some more to you about it. Now I must tend to my girls."

Hippalos turned back to his dancers, beating time with his hand and exclaiming:

"Come on, Lyka, you're slow on your turns! Get in step! Ryp-pa-pa-pai! Ryp-pa-pa-pai! That's better!"

The girls finished their dance, and a male singer took their place. Then more girls, then a snake charmer, more girls, a team of tumblers, and more girls. As the evening passed, the dancing became wilder and the girls, nakeder. I sighed for my youth, when to witness such a show would have made it embarrassing for me to stand up afterwards. Now my lance lay as limp as a dead eel. I saw Hippalos whisper in the ear of the Numidian, Varsako, who showed white teeth against his brown skin in a grin of eager interest. Not all the girls would be lonesome that night.