There was fighting in the city that night, I could hear the rumble of distant shouting and see the dull glow of fires through the bars of the door. That was bad. Fire in any crowded city can turn into a conflagration that leaps from house to house. Not that the rioters cared about me personally, I’m sure, it was the principle of the thing. I reflected bitterly that Pericles had hired me to help prevent a civil war, and instead I had become the cause of one.
My mother, in tears, brought me a last meal of all the foods I had ever loved as a child, ending with honeycomb. Only the Gods know how she managed to find some at such short notice. I apologized for bringing such shame upon the family. Father gripped my hand and refused to hear my apology, saying I was an innocent man being persecuted by the powerful. When the emotion became too high Sophroniscus led Phaenarete away. His last words to me were that he would create a statue of me in the finest marble, and that it would stand in a prominent place in Athens.
Sophroniscus was a good man. He might have reminded me, but didn’t, of the words he’d spoken about Themistocles, before I had begun this disastrous mission. I remembered his speech clearly.
“Exiled, criminalized, condemned, and bankrupted. You don’t want this to be you, do you?”
I would like to report the condemned man ate a hearty dinner, but it isn’t true. I threw it all up after they left, my stomach was in such turmoil. I wiped my mouth and sat down upon the cot and wondered what it would be like to cross the Styx and come to my final home in Hades. I knew I would wait among the recent dead for Charon to bring his ferry to the side of Life. We would crowd aboard, and he would steer us to the side of Death, where we would walk to the banks of the river Lethe. We would drink the waters and lose our memories of what we had been in life. Did that mean I wouldn’t remember what had brought me to my death? It seemed important to know, though I couldn’t have explained why.
I stared ruefully at the mess on the floor. The guards would see it in the morning and know I had lost my nerve. Even the rats were avoiding it. I greeted them now like old friends. A condemned man can’t afford to be picky about his friends. How many other men now dead had shared their last hours with these rodents? What tales they could tell of the behavior of dead men still walking, what insights into human nature!
“Nicolaos, wake up!”
“Huh? What!” I had fallen asleep. Diotima stood at the door.
“Nicolaos, something terrible is going to happen.” She sounded panicky.
“For both our sakes, don’t remind me. I’m having enough trouble dealing with it as it is.”
“Not only you, Nico. It’s Pericles. Pericles is missing, and the fighting is getting worse.”
“What’s happening out there?”
“Men are rioting. People are scared. Some are throwing stones. Nobody’s organized a rebellion yet. They say the people demanded Pericles lead them, but he refused before he disappeared.”
“Diotima, you know you shouldn’t be walking about in the city tonight.”
“I have this, and this.” She showed me the bow which Brasidas the bowyer had custom-built for her, and held up the sacrificial knife.
“I went to see Pericles, Nicolaos, to insist he get you out.”
“But he did his part of the bargain, Diotima. He got me off the charge.”
“And here you are, waiting to be executed in a few hours.”
“It’s not his fault, Diotima. He was as astonished as the rest of us. He even threatened his own father.”
“I don’t care if it’s his fault or not. He’s the only one I can force to do something.”
“What did he say?”
“Nothing. He wasn’t at home.”
“He’s out calming the rioters, I shouldn’t wonder.”
Diotima shook her head. “The slaves said he’d had a summons from Xanthippus, but they don’t know where he’s gone.”
“It’s hardly a problem for me, I’ll be dead in a few hours.”
Diotima hid her face in her hands and began to weep. I waited patiently. The thought that someone other than my mother might cry at my death was oddly comforting. She eventually got herself under control and looked at me with red-rimmed eyes. “I promised myself I wouldn’t do this. Nicolaos, can you think of any way I could get you out of here? Pericles was my last hope.”
“Not unless you can get the key to this door from those guards out there.”
“They don’t have it. I tried bribing them before I went to Pericles.”
Steps echoed on the cold stone and Pythax walked around the bend, carrying a torch and a bundle. He dropped the bundle, which clanged loudly, and said, “Hello, little boy.”
“How are you, Pythax?”
“I’m angry, angry and disgusted. I don’t mind a man getting himself killed fair and square, but that ain’t what’s happened to you. I’m here to let you out. You’re leaving Athens, little boy. I’ve been to see Xanthippus, to demand he release you, but he was out, on a bad night like this too! So I’m taking it on myself to let you out. You’ve been crushed by men too powerful to fight, and they didn’t fight fair, and you were only trying to do your best for your home. Reminds me of a man I once knew: he tried to defend his village from a whole army, and it didn’t work out real well for him either.”
Free. Free to leave Athens and run to safety. Free to take Diotima with me.
Diotima said, “Pythax, when they told you Xanthippus was out, did they say where he was going?”
“Yeah. The Areopagus, for some meeting or other. The slave said he had a message from Pericles.”
Diotima and I shared a look. “He swore he’d avoid dubious summonses to dark alleys,” I said.
“Who did?” Pythax demanded.
“Pericles. But he’s gone to meet his father at the Rock of the Areopagus. It’s the only place they could go tonight where they wouldn’t be observed. And they both received a summons from the other.”
“That’s impossible.”
“Pythax, let me out.”
He pulled back the bars and opened the door. “You going to run now? I brought your things.” On the floor were clean clothing, my sword and dagger. Pythax’s idea of essential personal items.
I tore off my dirty, smelly clothes and, chattering with the cold, pulled on the clean. I placed the dagger in my belt, buckled on the sword and said, “No, I’m not running, at least not yet. First we have to stop a murder, and I hope we’re not too late.”
As we set off, Diotima said, “What I don’t understand is why he would act now, when he already had you to take the blame.”
I said, “No, he didn’t, that’s the point. The jury said I wasn’t guilty. The Council condemned me for treason, not murder.”
We ran the through the dark, overcast night. There was barely moon-glow through the clouds to show our way, we stumbled frequently, and I silently cursed every rock that slowed us down.
“Halt! Stop right where you are!” It was Antigonos and Euphrestes, the Scythians I had trained with. They were on patrol.
Pythax merely had to growl, and they recognized him at once. “Have you seen Xanthippus or Pericles?” he demanded.
Euphrestes said, “Both of them, sir! First Xanthippus, then Pericles, back along the Panathenaic Way. They were both walking south.” He pointed behind him. “Is there a problem, sir?”
Pythax ordered them to close on us and they kept pace to our left and right flanks. Diotima fell to the rear but managed to stay with the group. I could hear her panting but didn’t dare stop or even slow.
We came around the Rock at the base of its north face to where it joined the Panathenaic Way. To my left in the distance I could see the Agora, where many men had congregated though it was dark. They had lit bonfires. I didn’t have time to worry about them.
Ahead I could see torches and hear shouts of anger, but the smoke from the torches, the distance, and the bright pin lights of flame obscured my vision. The background was sheer darkness. All we had to work with was the moving hot pinpricks of the torches, the contrast of the light they cast and the shadows they created. It was enough to tell me two men stood in the center of the Panathenaic Way where it squeezes between the Acropolis and the Rock, and some number of men surrounded them.
We came close enough to recognize Pericles and Xanthippus in the center. They were standing back to back, and they hadn’t been expecting trouble. They both carried their daggers and nothing else: no shield, no sword, no spear. Both their blades seemed to be bloodied, but perhaps it was reflection of the firelight. Their attackers were far better prepared. I tried to count them but couldn’t be sure I had the numbers right: there was no telling how many might be lurking in the shadows. As far as I could see there were seven. All had swords or spears. At least one had a bow, because I could see him aiming.
At that distance he couldn’t miss. The man was aiming at Pericles, who immediately dodged out of the way. The bowman shifted his aim to the now uncovered back of Xanthippus. Pericles shouted, “No!” and jumped into the path.
The arrow took him in the shoulder and spun him backward into Xanthippus, who stumbled forward, saw that his son had been shot, and shouted in rage. He stood over Pericles to protect him. Xanthippus had been a General in his day, and I saw immediately the difference in quality between a regular fighting man and a street thug. Xanthippus centered his action around his fallen son, ready to step forward if an attacker presented an opening, but returning always to his post. He was not trying to kill his attackers, but hurt them enough to keep them at bay. He didn’t allow himself to become committed to any one opponent.
Despite the artful defense, he was severely outnumbered. The attackers realized their advantage and came at him from opposite directions, two on each side. Xanthippus could have jumped out of their path, but to do so would have abandoned Pericles to his death. Xanthippus stood his ground to the last moment, then feinted at one pair and whirled to the other. They managed to engage him, so that his back was now exposed. Pericles had broken off the arrow in his shoulder and now rose, blocking the blades of the pair about to plunge their daggers into the back of his father. Xanthippus risked a glance behind him and smiled. But Pericles was too weak to defend himself and he couldn’t last much longer.
They saw us at last. A man shouted and I looked up to see a figure in shadow standing atop the Areopagus. He pointed straight at us.
The men who had formed a ring around the action, cordoning off any hope of escape for Xanthippus and Pericles, moved toward us. Antigonos and Euphrestes went forward to engage them, wielding their unstrung bows like short staves in their left hands and holding their daggers in their right. Pythax circled around to the left, obviously intending to flank them. I didn’t see where Diotima went, but fervently hoped she’d had the good sense to back away. I decided to try and break through to the embattled pair at the center of the fighting. It seemed to me if I edged along the face of the Areopagus I would be able to squeeze past the Scythians and their opponents. It was dark enough that I might pass for a shadow.
I failed. Their leftmost man saw me, disengaged from Antigonos, who had two others to deal with as well, and came at me. I held my sword forward and that gave the man pause. I didn’t recognize him. In fact, I hadn’t recognized any of the men in the attack, they all had the look to me of hired thugs or unemployed mercenaries.
One of his two friends landed a nasty, cracking kick to the knee of Antigonos, and the other plunged his blade into the Scythian’s throat. Antigonos went down in a spray of blood. The three turned against me.
One of them shouted, “You! This is going to be a pleasure. Kill him!” It was Rizon, and it was his blade that dripped blood. I didn’t hesitate. I hefted my dagger in my left hand and threw it straight at Rizon. I didn’t care if the other two got me as long as I sent Rizon to Hades before me.
My throw was terrible. The dagger turned in the air and the pommel struck Rizon on the chin. But he thought it was the blade about to strike him and flinched. It was all I needed to lunge forward on a huge extension and take him in the belly. The distance was such that only the tip and a hand’s width of length entered, but I twisted and ripped as I pulled back and it was enough to cause his intestines to poke out. The pressure ripped the wound further, and a blue-red mess spilled into the dust. Rizon screamed and fell to the ground.
My lunge had gone so far it was impossible to pull back in time. I was easy meat for the two thugs. I looked at them and wondered which of them would end me, and hoped it would be quick.
My twisted position meant that I was looking upward, and I saw now that it was the elder Archestratus standing on the outcrop directly above me. He screamed, “I am the rightful leader of Athens!” He took a spear and aimed it down where Pericles and Xanthippus stood, I don’t know which one he was aiming at, but it didn’t matter because there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. One of them would die, and Athens would collapse in civil war.
In the darkness I heard a voice shout, “Mine!” and another shout “Mine!” Two arrows were loosed. Both took Archestratus in the gut.
He dropped the spear and clutched his stomach, leaning far over. He toppled forward.
The body fell from the sky, landing at my feet with a thud. His eyes looked up at me in surprise.
My attackers had just seen their employer eliminated, and they backed away. But it didn’t matter because Pythax was upon them, come unseen.
Pythax with his bare hands grabbed the heads of the men and whacked them together with such force that it sounded like stone being hammered. The heads disappeared in a mist of blood and brain.
I stood up, wincing. It felt like I’d ripped a groin muscle when I’d made that suicidal lunge against Rizon.
The place looked like the aftermath of a major battle. Euphrestes had taken a dagger in the chest and crawled away from the fight, leaving a trail of blood for Pythax and me to follow. We found him under a bush, and Pythax held him in his last moments while I went to find the others. The remainder of the hired thugs had run when Archestratus fell. I inspected the two who would have killed me. They were both thoroughly dead. One had a beard and dark hair; I recognized him as one of the men who had ambushed me in the street and beaten me.
Xanthippus was panting and exhausted. Experienced strategos he may be, but he was also an old man. I held Pericles while Xanthippus probed the wound with his dagger. Xanthippus declared, “An honorable wound but not a dangerous one. The arrowhead penetrated but there are no arteries cut. You have the luck of the Gods, son. And thank you for saving my life.”
Pericles said, “It was more than my filial duty, father. Athens needs you. I need you.” He paused. “I would have missed you.”
I said, “Somebody else saved both your lives; in fact, two some-bodies.”
Pericles asked, “Who are they?”
“Me.” Diotima walked in out of the darkness, carrying her bow. “Pythax and I shot at the same time. Where is he, Nicolaos? Is he all right?”
“I’m still alive,” Pythax said, returning to the firelight. He was covered in blood.
Archestratus was still alive, to my amazement. He was bleeding out and would die within hours, faster if we pulled the arrows. In the meantime he was groaning and screaming in self-pity.
Diotima took out the sacrificial knife she used as a priestess, the short, curved blade that looked razor sharp, with a small handle.
I said in alarm, “Diotima, what are you doing!”
She looked at me, and at Pythax and Pericles and Xanthippus, with hard eyes.
“He killed my father, and I remind you all I am a priestess of the Huntress. This one is my rightful sacrifice.”
She walked into the darkness where Archestratus lay. He saw her coming, holding the knife. He shouted, “No! No! No!” over and over again until his voice was cut off by bubbling sounds.
Pythax said, “Well, all I can say is I’m glad I’m just a dumb guard. How are you statesmen going to explain this?”
Pericles and Xanthippus looked at each other.
I added, “Of course, it would never occur to either of you to tell the people the truth.”
Pericles said, “Nicolaos, you had a taste of what happens when someone tries to tell the people a complex story. Did you notice the dicasts were perfectly happy to watch Euterpe tear her clothes off and make accusations? Did you notice when Diotima tried to explain what really happened they ignored her?”
I hate it when Pericles says something I know to be morally wrong but logically right. “For the good of the state, is it? Or for the good of Pericles and Xanthippus?”
“The first because that is necessity, the second by accident,” Pericles replied. At least he had the grace to be embarrassed.
Pythax reminded us, “It’ll be light soon. There better be an explanation for the corpses before then.”
I replied, “Let me see if I too can be a cynical politician and tell lies for the greater good. Here’s my suggestion: a quiet meeting of Xanthippus, Pericles, and Archestratus was held tonight to resolve the many problems Athens faces. A mob of drunken thugs happened along and attempted to rob them. The trio put up a strong resistance and called for help. Pythax, your two Scythians responded to the cries and saved our leaders before succumbing to their wounds. I’m sorry to report Archestratus fell while putting up a brave fight.”
“Sounds reasonable. And Rizon over there?”
I shrugged. “Will anyone care? Maybe he happened upon the scene by accident.”
Xanthippus said, “That sounds very believable, especially considering the fires I can still see burning. No doubt there’ll be a few corpses in the streets of Athens come morning, so a small collection out here won’t be too remarkable.”
“I’m glad you like my story. Now, what did your meeting agree upon?”
“Did it have to agree anything? We were interrupted by the robbery.”
“It most certainly did. Let me help your memory. To start with, the son of Brasidas will receive an order for new bows and equipment. I think about three hundred ought to be enough to set him up in business. An order that size will encourage the father’s customers to return to the son.”
Xanthippus winced but nodded. “The state coffers won’t run to that sort of money. I’ll donate them to the city out of my own pocket.”
“How very thoughtful of you, sir. Next, the bill for citizenship for Pythax goes through.”
Xanthippus and Pericles both nodded to that one. Pericles said, “The Ecclesia would have to vote on it.”
“With both you and Xanthippus recommending the bill I wouldn’t expect any trouble.”
“True enough. Go on.”
“I would prefer not to be executed in the morning.”
Xanthippus said, “It’s an imposition, but I suppose I’ll have to forgo the pleasure this time around. No doubt, given your propensities, I’ll have other opportunities. But, young man, if you expect to live to see the next noon, you must give the Council something in return for rescinding the execution order.”
I sighed. I’d expected this. “I must never breathe a word to anyone that the Council made a deal with Themistocles.”
“I see you can manage a firm grip on political necessity when it’s your own life in jeopardy. Swear it.”
“I swear. May I be visited by the Friendly Ones should I ever utter a word on the subject.”
“That will do. Are we done with the demands?”
“Not quite. Diotima’s intended is lying over there with his guts decorating the sand. Therefore she is now a ward of the state, not required to marry anyone.”
Pericles sneered. “And the estate of Ephialtes becomes her dowry. So now we see some cynical dealing from the man who prides himself on his honesty. I suppose you’re going to swear you have no plans for the lovely heiress yourself? You’re no better than Rizon.”
I felt my face become warm. “As long as she’s a ward of the state her guardian is Conon. I don’t imagine him giving her to me any time soon. My father probably wouldn’t be too happy either, come to think of it.”
“Conon’s year will finish soon. The new Archon will most likely be happy to get her off his hands.”
“That’s as may be. The requirement is she not be forced to marry against her will.”
Xanthippus said, “You know we can’t guarantee that. The whole question lies with the Archon.” He paused. “I think I can undertake to ‘persuade’ Conon to take no action during his term. That leaves you a clear run with his successor, and the Gods know who that will be with this ridiculous lottery system. Your father is your own problem to solve. In fact, I’ve noticed recently that fathers are often a problem for their sons. And, son”-Xanthippus turned to Pericles-“consider, the estate has to go to someone. This young man is probably as good as anyone. At least he has some talent to serve the State.”
Pythax said, “Watch yourself, little boy. It’s a bad sign when Xanthippus thinks the city might need you.”
“I’m satisfied.”
Diotima returned silently to the torchlight circle and nodded silently. “What happens now?” she asked.
“We go home,” I said.
Pythax and I saw Diotima to her door as dawn exposed the disaster area that was the Agora. We skirted around smoldering bonfires made up of the building material that had been stacked waiting for use. Thick, half-burned beams poked out of the heaps, and the whole scene reminded me of the ruins on top of the Acropolis, except that this time we did it to ourselves. Building bricks and roof tiles lay scattered about the Agora and the surrounding streets; men had been using them as missiles. There were bodies, though not as many as I feared; perhaps a dozen sprawled in the Agora, and we passed three others. Many other men sat in the streets nursing wounds or sore heads; one man sat with his head in his hands, apparently unhurt but weeping.
Diotima insisted we collect Achilles and the other slaves from Ephialtes’ home, and we saw them all through Euterpe’s doorway. I gave Achilles firm instructions to lock all the doors, and I heard the bolt thud home the moment the door shut. Then we went our separate ways, Pythax to see what had become of his Scythians and I to return home.
I banged on our door until the sleepy house slave opened it to great astonishment. Neither Phaenarete nor Sophroniscus had slept, with the rioting in the streets and the expectation of seeing their elder son have his neck snapped in the morning.
My parents rejoiced but were intensely curious. I told them the Council had had a change of heart, which after all was true. But I had some difficulty explaining away the large amount of other men’s blood splattered across the front of my clothing. I put it down to being accosted by rioters on the way home and having to defend myself. Sophroniscus knew better, but chose to say nothing, except to ask if I was quite sure I shouldn’t be running for the border.
Sophroniscus brought out his best amphora of wine, but the celebration didn’t last long. I’m told that I lay back upon the dining couch and fell asleep immediately. I don’t even remember that.