Menedemos gave him two Rhodian coins. He accepted them without a murmur; Khios and Rhodes coined to the same standard, somewhat lighter than that of Athens and a good deal lighter than that of Aigina. Briskly, the priest tied a length of rope around the lamb's neck and led it to the altar.
An attendant brought up a bowl of water. Menedemos and the priest both washed their hands. Once the priest was ritually clean, he also sprinkled water on the lamb. Then the priest, Menedemos, and the attendant all lowered their heads and spent a moment in silent prayer. The lamb let out a bleat, not liking the fire that crackled on the altar or the odor of blood that clung to it.
The attendant sprinkled unground barley over the lamb, the altar, and the priest and Menedemos. The priest took a knife from his belt, cut a tight curl of soft wool from the lamb's head, and threw it into the flames on the altar.
A man with a flute and another with a lyre began to play, to help drown out the victim's death cry. The attendant handed the priest an axe. He killed the lamb with one swift blow, then used the knife to cut its throat. The attendant caught its blood in a silver bowl and splashed it on the altar.
Together, the priest and Menedemos chanted the Homeric hymn to Poseidon:
"He's done that for me," Menedemos added. "I thank him for it."
While they were reciting the Homeric hymn, the attendant began butchering the lamb's little carcass. He gave the god his portion: the thighbones wrapped in fat. As he set them on the fire, the scent of the burning fat sent spit rushing into Menedemos' mouth. Like most Hellenes, he seldom ate meat except after a sacrifice.
With ease born of long practice, the attendant cut up the carcass into chunks of meat of roughly the same size. Butchery after a sacrifice got no fancier than that. The attendant skewered one piece of meat for Menedemos, one for the priest, and one for himself. The two musicians came forward to get their share.
They all roasted the tender bits of lamb over the fire on the altar. After he'd wolfed down his share, Menedemos asked, "Is it permitted to take the rest of the carcass out of the sacred precinct?" Some temples allowed that, some didn't.
The priest tossed his head. "I am sorry, but no - it is not permitted."
"All right, then," Menedemos said. "The god has his fair share of my thanks-offering; the people here are welcome to the rest."
"Many men would argue more," the priest said. When he smiled, he looked years younger. "Many men 'ave argued more. Good fortune go with you, Rhodian, and may the Earthshaker always smile on you."
"My thanks," Menedemos said, and started back toward the city of Khios.
Aristagoras the wine seller dipped his head to his slave. As the Lydian scraped away the pitch around the stopper so he could open a new jar of wine, Aristagoras told Sostratos, "Truly, O best one, you must sample the vintages so you know what you are getting."
"I thank you for your generosity," replied Sostratos, "but if you keep feeding me even little cups of neat wine, pretty soon I'll be too drunk to tell one from another. My head's already starting to spin."
Aristagoras laughed heartily, just as if Sostratos were joking. "Oh, you are the funniest fellow," he said. The broken veins in his nose said he'd had a lot of practice pouring down wine, and it certainly didn't seem to affect him. He turned to the slave. " 'Aven't you got that yet, Alyattes?"
"Just now, master," the Lydian replied in his singsong accent. He pried the stopper out with the knifeblade, then lifted the jar and poured some of its golden contents into what were indeed small cups.
" 'Ere you are," Aristagoras said to Sostratos, and handed him one of the cups. "Now, this jar was laid down in the year Alexander died, which makes it" - he counted on his fingers - "thirteen years old now." He smiled the easy, friendly smile of a man who bought and sold things for a living. "It's getting close to a man's years on it. Go ahead and taste - don't be shy."
Sostratos sipped the sweet, fragrant wine. He smacked his lips and made polite appreciative noises. Had he not been trying to buy the stuff at something close to a reasonable price, he would have burst into cheers. "Very nice indeed," he murmured.
