While I was a slave in Ephesus, someone brought in the
interaction between chorus and poet, so that men spoke and
answered each other as if in a simple conversation in the agora.
This may seem a smal thing to you, children, but imagine a poor
peasant from Attica, alowed to watch Heracles debate with the
gods over his fate. Agamemnon begging his son to avenge him.
Strong stuff. Sophists decry it as the end of men’s piety, but I’ve
always loved it.
Phrynichus had long led the way, winning prize after prize.
But when he wrote The Fall of Miletus, he set drama on
another course, because instead of writing about the gods and
heroes, he wrote about an event that had just happened in the
world of men. His play had many actors – not just a chorus, but
a dozen more men each taking a separate role. There was Istes,
fighting to the last on the wal – and Histiaeus, and Miltiades –
and me.
I was not a citizen of Athens then, so I was not permitted to
appear in the play. Besides, that might have seemed to some like
hubris. But Phrynichus asked me to come to the judging of the
play, to stand with him as his guest, and to stand by Miltiades.
The crops were in, and my slaves were, for the most part,
decent men who could work for a month without me. Besides,
Hermogenes would be there, and Tiraeus. I didn’t stop to think.
I took a horse, borrowed Idomeneus’s young man, Styges, as
my servant and rode over the mountain to Attica.
This time, I was much more careful in my approach to mighty
Athens, and I rode clear around the city and arrived at Aristides’
gate as the autumn sun set and men puled their chlamyses closer
against the wind and dark cold.
His wife came to the gate, summoned by servants. She
surprised me by granting me the flash of her smile and a quick
kiss on the cheek.
‘Arimnestos of Plataea, you are ever a friend of this house,’
she said. ‘My husband is late coming in from the Agora. Please
come in!’
I have always valued that woman. ‘Despoina, this is Styges,
acting as my hypaspist. He is no slave.’
She nodded to him. ‘I’l see to his bed, then,’ she said.
‘You’l want to bathe.’
Not a question.
I was just clear of my bath, toweling down and wishing I had
not put quite so much warm water on her floor, when Aristides
came in through the curtain and embraced me, his wool cloak
stil carrying the cold of the outside. ‘Arimnestos!’ he said.
I had last seen him as his ship swept past mine, out of the
pocket of death, at Lade. ‘You lived,’ I said with satisfaction.
‘And you as wel, my Plataean hero. By the gods, you fought
like Heracles himself.’ He embraced me again.
Other men had said as much, but other men were not the
soft-spoken prig of justice, Aristides, and I valued those words –
wel, up to this very hour.
I folowed him to a table set beside his wife’s loom, and the
I folowed him to a table set beside his wife’s loom, and the
three of us ate together. Later, it became the fashion to exclude
women from many things, but not then. There was meat from a
sacrifice, fresh tuna – a magnificent fish – good barley porridge,
and rich wheat bread. In Plataea, it would have been a feast. In
Athens, it was merely dinner with a rich man.
‘How stands the case with Miltiades?’ I asked after I had
eaten my fil. Among Greeks, it is bad manners to ask hard
questions during a meal. Truth to tel, it is bad manners in Persia,
in Aegypt, in Sicily and in Rome, too.
Aristides wiped his fingers on a cloth – my sister would have
kicked him, but customs differ from town to town – and pursed
his lips. ‘On the evidence, the jury can do nothing but convict
him,’ he said.
I could hear something in his voice. I raised an eyebrow.
‘But?’ I asked.
He shrugged. ‘Men are seldom convicted on evidence,’ he
said. ‘Miltiades’ case has become a test of the reach of the
Great King into our city. The case was brought with malice, by
the Alcmaeonids, and I have reason to believe that the Great
I laughed. ‘And the sad truth is that every one of us knows
that Miltiades had every intention of seizing the city.’
Aristides frowned. ‘I wish you would phrase things more
accurately, Plataean. We know nothing of the kind. We know
what he might have done had he defeated the Persians and
Medes at Lade.’ He shrugged.
Medes at Lade.’ He shrugged.
I confess that I laughed. ‘Aristides!’ I said, as I understood.
‘You are his advocate? You, his enemy?’
His wife laughed, and I slapped the table, and the Athenians’
byword for justice and honour glared at us as if he was our
pedagogue and we were errant children.
‘It’s not funny!’ he snapped.
Try stopping a man from laughing with those words.
‘Besides,’ he said. ‘I am hardly his enemy.’
‘Of course not,’ I said. I laughed again. I couldn’t help
myself, and his wife joined me.
‘Why is it,’ he asked, when we began to breathe again, ‘that
visitors here always mock me, and you, despoina, always abet
them?’
I put a hand on his shoulder. ‘If you wil be better than other
men, you must be patient with their mockery,’ I said. ‘Besides,
we only tease you because we love you.’
‘Why?’ Aristides asked. Like most righteous men, he was
impatient of teasing and had neither defence against it nor any
idea why it was directed at him.
I shook my head and gave up. ‘Forgive me, lord,’ I said.
‘Imagine I’m but a poor witless foreigner, and tel me how
Miltiades might survive this charge.’
Aristides ignored my tone and nodded. ‘Very wel,’ he said,
taking me at my word. ‘The question before the jury ought to be
whether Miltiades sought to make himself tyrant or not. But the
question that is actualy facing the jury is simpler, and more
complex – whether Athens ought to resist Persia or not. Had we
complex – whether Athens ought to resist Persia or not. Had we
won Lade, this trial would never have come about.’
I decided that I should not make the point that if we had won
Lade, Miltiades would have landed here with fifty triremes and
five thousand hoplites and made himself master in short order.
Better not to say every thought that comes to one’s mind.
‘Men know that the Great King took Miletus. Thanks to
Phrynichus, starting tomorrow, men wil hear how close we came
to defeating Datis – and how we were betrayed by the
aristocrats of Samos. Do you know that the trierarchs there were
stoned by a mob? Or that the eleven captains who stood with us
are to have statues?’
‘Someday I wil find Dionysius of Samos in a dark aley,’ I
said.
‘Too late,’ Aristides said. ‘His oarsmen kiled him to erase
the shame of their defection.’
‘Good for them,’ I said. It was, truly, the best news I’d heard
al day. ‘His shade wil never go to Elysium!’
We poured libations to Zeus who watches over oaths, and to
the furies who avenge men who are wronged.
‘So,’ Aristides continued, when the wine was pooling on the
floor, ‘to summarize, we seek to remind every juror – and
indeed, every man – that we fought with the men of Miletus, and
that, but for betrayal, we would have been victorious. And we
seek to remind them that if the Great King rules here, our sons
and daughters wil service his soldiers like the virgins of Lesbos
and Chios.’
That was close to a blatant lie – it was at least stretching the
That was close to a blatant lie – it was at least stretching the
facts. The rape of the islands had been a horror – but it didn’t
represent the daily policy of the Great King. On the other hand,
it had been terrible. I nodded.
‘And if the men of this city see Persia as a threat, and see that
we can stand against the Great King, then they wil silence the
Alcmaeonids and stand their ground, and Miltiades wil be found
innocent.’ Aristides had risen to his feet. He was giving a speech.
I clapped. So did his wife.
He sat down and hung his head. ‘But here in my own home,
I’l say that I have very little hope,’ he said. ‘They tried to kil
Sophanes today.’
I grinned. I didn’t know that Sophanes was yet alive. ‘I’ve
seen that boy in action,’ I said. ‘Hired thugs wil never get him.’
‘Yesterday Themistocles was beaten,’ he went on. ‘He’s
rising to be the head of the Demos. I have no time for him – but
he’s with us against the Alcmaeonids and their supporters.’ He
shrugged. ‘Men are afraid to speak openly.’
I rubbed my chin. ‘Where is my suit against the Alcmaeonids
for my slave girl and my horse?’ I asked.
Aristides stopped as if he’d been struck. ‘By Zeus Soter,’ he
said, ‘I had forgotten. I must apologize – Miltiades is your
proxenos, and he should have reminded me.’ A proxenos is the
man – usualy a prominent man – who represents the affairs of
your city in his own. Miltiades was the proxenos of Plataea in
Athens.
I took a sip of wine. ‘I mean to have that woman back,’ I
I took a sip of wine. ‘I mean to have that woman back,’ I
said. ‘I’l turn to violence if I must. I swore an oath, which was
recently brought to my attention. It lowers me to admit this – but
I forgot her, too.’
‘More than a year since we swore the suit,’ Aristides said.
‘You must not turn to violence, Arimnestos. This city is the
symbol of the rule of law.’
‘Hmm,’ I said. Thugs were beating my friends. Miltiades was
in fear of his life from his own people. And I felt alive for the first
time in months.
By Aristides’ shoulder, Jocasta raised an eyebrow – and
moved one long finger across her throat.
I got her message as clearly as if she’d shouted it, and I
smiled at her.
‘What is there to grin at?’ Aristides asked.
I shrugged. ‘It’s good to be here with you,’ I said, with
perfect honesty.
The next morning I went and visited Miltiades, who was being
kept in one of the caves above the Agora. The men guarding him
were mostly his friends.
‘I’m safe here,’ he said with a smile, after he hugged me.
‘Unless Aristides gets himself a bodyguard, they’l kil him in the
Agora. The rule of law is over. The Great King has bought the
rich men, and they have bought the thugs. There’l be little justice
after this.’
I could have said that there would have been little enough
justice if he had made himself tyrant, but to Hades with that.
justice if he had made himself tyrant, but to Hades with that.
Miltiades was my childhood hero, and my friend.
‘I mean to take some action,’ I said, glancing around.
‘Legal action?’ Miltiades asked. ‘You are a foreigner.’
‘You are my proxenos,’ I said. ‘And I have a lawsuit sworn
against Cleitus of the Alcmaeonids.’
‘So you do,’ he said. He shrugged and raised both
eyebrows. ‘I fail to see why this is germane.’
I looked around. ‘You trust al these men?’ I asked.
‘Of course,’ Miltiades said, but his eyes said otherwise.
‘Suffice it to say that if I move my case, you wil have to act
for me.’ I bowed. Miltiades was no Aristides, and he did not
know the law the way the Just Man did. ‘And if there is no
advantage to you, lord, I, at least, would reclaim the woman and
the horse.’
Miltiades looked disgruntled – but he was too good a man to
be despondent. ‘I’l do my best,’ he promised.
‘I need to contact some witnesses,’ I said. ‘Paramanos? And
Agios?’
‘What have they to do with your damned horse?’ he asked,
and then realization began to dawn. He choked a moment,
coughed and caled to a boy who stood by, wearing the green
and gold of Miltiades’ father. ‘Take Lord Arimnestos to
Piraeus,’ he said, ‘and find the men he needs to see.’
‘Aye, lord,’ the boy said with a deep bow.
Aristides was a good man, the Just Man, but it was civil war
in the streets, and by putting Miltiades, the fighter, in irons, the
Alcmaeonids had muzzled their opposition.
Alcmaeonids had muzzled their opposition.
I meant to have my slave girl back. And it seemed to me,
after looking around for a few hours, that the fastest way through
the tangle of Athenian politics would be to break some heads.
I have great respect for democracy, friends. But democracy
needs a little help sometimes.
The first man I met with was Phrynichus. He was easy to find, in
a good house high on the hil, hard by the Acropolis. I asked my
way there, with one hand on my purse and a wary eye out for
Alcmaeonid-paid brutes.
He was happy to see me. His fighting days were probably
over – his two wounds had both been almost mortal, and he
made it clear to me that he felt that the gods had sent him back
to life to redress the balance of the loss at Lade. As he was the
man who had sent the letter, I stayed a night with him, ate his
food and tried to help out as much as possible, as I could tel that
he was living smal.
His wife Irene was kind, careful with money and smitten with
a sadness that often comes to those who cannot have children –
or perhaps poverty was wearing her down. I had a cure for
poverty, and I took her aside while her husband napped. She
puled a shawl over her head – she was not used to talking to
men without a chaperone present.
I put a purse on the table. ‘Your husband never received his
share from our last voyage,’ I said carefuly. ‘I don’t like to
speak of it – I know he was there for the principle of the thing,
and not fo
r filthy loot.’
and not for filthy loot.’
Her eyes were carefuly lowered, but now they came up and
locked on mine. ‘I understand,’ she said steadily. ‘You are
clearly more of a gentleman than some of our other friends.’
I laughed. ‘Don’t believe it, lady. But that money is his, and
perhaps I could buy some wine for dinner?’
She shook her head behind the shawl. ‘I, for one, would
appreciate some decent wine,’ she alowed.
When Phrynichus was awake, he sat with me at the farm
table that dominated the main room. ‘Irene is happier today,’ he
said. ‘What did you say to her?’
‘I took the liberty of buying you some decent wine,’ I said. I
put a hand on his shoulder as his face darkened. ‘Don’t give me
any shit, brother. You’re poor as a frog without a swamp and
you need a decent amphora to get you through the play.’
‘If it ever goes on,’ he said. ‘Fuck me, Arimnestos. Cleitus
and the Alcmaeonids paid to suppress it, and now they’ve
threatened that if it goes on, I’l be beaten. Or Irene wil be. They
say they’l pay men to disrupt the performance, the way they
broke up Miltiades’ festival of return.’
I shook my head. ‘Don’t give an inch,’ I said. ‘I’m working
on the problem of the Alcmaeonids.’
‘What can you do?’ he asked. ‘I mean no offence,
Arimnestos, but you’re just a foreigner!’
‘And you need a bodyguard,’ I said. I knew where to find
one.
That night, we ate good fish and drank good wine, and Irene
lied like a good wife and said she’d found a big silver piece in the
lied like a good wife and said she’d found a big silver piece in the
floorboards. And in the morning, I made excuses and slipped
away, feeling bad for having done so. Phrynichus needed me.
But what he realy needed was a success for his play.
My next stop was Cleon’s. He was more sober than when last
I’d found him.
‘You’re a thetes now?’ I asked.
He shrugged. ‘I drank the money I made with Aristides,’ he
said. ‘After they died, I mean. And spent some on whores.’ He
looked around the main room of his house. It was clean, because
it was empty.
‘What trade do you work?’ I asked.
He looked out of the door into the street. ‘I was a pot-
engraver,’ he said. ‘Hard to explain, realy. I cut the scenes into