Achilles His Armour

by Peter Green

  ‘It’s not only the common folk, either. There are plenty of the nobility who’d be glad enough to see Pericles out of the way and an oligarchy established. A war might be their best chance.’

  Nicias remarked sourly: ‘The nobility on the whole enjoy fighting. A war will probably put politics out of their minds for a while.’ He hiccoughed, and put his hand to his chest. His eyes looked more bilious than ever.

  Hiero said: ‘If I might suggest it, sir, I shouldn’t repeat yesterday’s performance too often. A celebration is all very well in its place, but you’ve got to take care of yourself. We can’t have you getting ill now.’ He set about preparing his master’s medicine.

  The dry voice came, with a faint tinge of uncertainty in it: ‘Hiero . . . what you told me was really true, wasn’t it?’

  Hiero paused with the pestle and mortar still in his hands. ‘I’m an honest man, sir. You wouldn’t keep me otherwise, now would you?’

  ‘You relieve my mind. I would not care to have a double fault on my conscience. Tell the diviner I wish to see him. And send one of the slaves to buy a white ox. I . . . have to make a special sacrifice.’ The pestle and mortar resumed their rhythmic noise; but when Hiero turned with the preparation ready to be drunk, he saw that his master had fallen asleep in his chair.

  • • • • •

  Alcibiades had seen very little of his uncle Axiochus since he had been a boy. Axiochus was his father’s younger brother, and scarcely ten years older than Alcibiades himself. The Alcmaeonid blood in his veins had not produced a touch of genius to match the constant debauchery in which he indulged. He drank persistently and heavily, in a city where deep potations were considered fit only for louts or barbarians; and periodically he would vanish altogether for months at a time. As he had ample private means, he was allowed to go to the devil in his own way; but Pericles had taken good care that neither his sons nor his ward should be exposed to such an influence.

  Now he sat on a couch with a large flagon of wine beside him, regarding his unexpected visitor. He was a lean man of about thirty, with blurred but intelligent grey eyes, and a long, leathery horse-like face. Two deep creases ran from his nose to his jaw. His hair was bleached, and his dress soiled. Yet as Alcibiades looked at him, he recognised an odd touch of strength: something which emanated perhaps from his hands—long and brown, with strong fingers. A. heavy gold ring glowed on one of them.

  ‘This is a pleasant surprise,’ Axiochus observed. He had a lazy, drawling voice. ‘I suppose I oughtn’t to ask embarrassing questions, but when a nephew who has been carefully sequestered from me for—what is it?—eighteen years, presents himself at my house with evident marks of haste and secrecy, and asks to be allowed to stay for three months or so, my inquisitiveness is almost intolerably aroused.’

  ‘I’ve quarrelled with my guardian . . .’ said Alcibiades awkwardly.

  ‘So I gathered in the Market. There seems to be a considerable doubt as to what the exact nature of the quarrel was. Perhaps you would care to enlighten me?’

  Alcibiades hesitated, then said: ‘He didn’t approve of . . . the way I behaved.’

  ‘Admirable reticence. All right, I won’t press you. Have some wine. It’s excellent stuff. I buy it myself in Abydos.’ He poured out a generous measure. Alcibiades sipped it, and nodded his approval. Uncle and nephew sat looking at one another for a while in silence.

  Presently Axiochus said: ‘I’ve no particular reason to love Pericles, and several very pressing ones why I shouldn’t. Further, from what I’ve heard’—he grinned—‘I think we might get on well together, you and I. I feel we have a good deal in common.’

  He seemed about to qualify this, and then checked himself. ‘Tell me your plans.’

  ‘Well, I shall get my estate in three months’ time—that’ll be when I’m eighteen. After that I suppose I shall have to do my two years’ training for the army.’

  ‘Is it a good estate?’

  ‘Three hundred acres at Erchiae. There’s a money bequest too, but I’m not sure how much it is.’

  ‘Has Pericles made any difficulty about passing it on to you?’

  ‘None at all. He promised the transfer would take place within the next few days.’

  ‘I see. Do I gather that it would be inconvenient for you to be seen much in public in the near future?’

  ‘I’d much rather not be.’

  ‘H’m. Well, you’re welcome to stay here, but it wouldn’t be much fun for you being confined to the house. As it happens, I can propose an alternative. I am about to go for a little holiday abroad. Well—perhaps not altogether a holiday. To Abydos, in fact. Why don’t you come with me?’

  While Alcibiades hesitated he said, suddenly: ‘Do I gather that the Olympian is anticipating a war?’

  ‘Well . . . it’s supposed to be secret.’

  ‘My dear boy, so is everything in Athens. I presume he’s hankering after that old idea of trade with the West and a final trial of arms with Sparta. Correct?’

  ‘You seem to be very well informed.’

  ‘Come, come. You mustn’t believe everything you hear about me. Even a congenital drunkard is capable of keeping his ears open. As an idea I agree it has possibilities, but it seems distinctly premature. It has the further disadvantage of being conceived by a man with his head in the clouds. Now I’m a much more earthy character. I like money every whit as much as he does, but I have much more practical notions about getting it. I’m also, though you mightn’t think it, interested in politics. Tell me, do you think our present system of democracy—discounting the Olympian—is the best way of running the City?’

  ‘No. It’s about the worst I could think of. Under the present system any fool can get himself into office.’

  ‘I agree. And five hundred fools are worse than one, and five thousand ten times worse than five hundred. Who do you think should rule Athens?’

  ‘The men with the brains and ability to do so. Not many. As few as possible, in fact.’

  ‘Admirable. We seem to agree upon all points. And what men are these likely to be?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘What class of men?’

  Alcibiades said hesitantly: ‘I wasn’t thinking of any particular class at all. I’d like to see a government where men like—like Cimon and Themistocles could rule side by side. In the end, the people would always recognise the best, irrespective of their political party.’

  ‘H’m. You’re more innocent than I thought. You credit both the people and their leaders with more sense than they’ve got now or ever will have. Have you noticed this interesting principle of yours operating to any extent in the past?’

  Alcibiades was silent. Axiochus chuckled. ‘Well, I shouldn’t let it disturb you over-much. You’re young. You’ve got plenty of time to learn. Have another drink.’ The wine gurgled from the flagon. Axiochus clapped his hands. A slave who appeared nearly as devoted to the bottle as his master lurched round the corner and stood swaying in front of them. Alcibiades caught a whiff of the Thracian wine he used to buy for Zopyrus.

  ‘You’re to go to the Piraeus,’ said Axiochus, and to arrange with the master of the Zacynthus for an extra passage.’ He tossed the slave a couple of gold pieces. ‘And when you get back, see that a bed is made up for my nephew.’ One of the slave’s eyebrows rose the fraction of an inch. ‘I said my nephew,’ repeated Axiochus amiably. ‘And tell the cook that we shall be two for dinner tonight.’ The slave wavered out.

  ‘You mustn’t expect the same kind of household here as with your beloved guardian. But you may perhaps find compensations.’ He lifted his glass, still chuckling.

  Chapter 7

  The City Ward of the Scambonidae clan was holding its annual ceremony for the admission of young men to full citizen’s rights. As Adeimantus had remarked earlier, the two main results cancelled each other out: one came into one’s family inheritance, but was immediately liable for military training.

  One by one, the
boys came before the Chief Councillor of the Ward, who was supported by a quorum of clan members. These voted on each candidate’s admission. The Councillor then administered the oath of allegiance, and the candidate’s name was entered on the rolls of the Ward by a scribe. Acceptance seemed to be more or less automatic.

  The queue had dissolved. Now Adeimantus stepped forward, was approved, and went out. Alcibiades took his place. There was a stir and a whispering among the members.

  ‘Your name?’ asked the Councillor.

  ‘Alcibiades son of Cleinias.’

  The Councillor looked at him, then glanced at a document in front of him.

  ‘Were you not Pericles’ ward?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  The Councillor announced: ‘Alcibiades son of Cleinias, former ward of Pericles, seeks admission to the Clan of the Scambonidae. Is there any citizen who can bring good and sufficient reason why the candidate should not be admitted on oath to the rolls of citizenship?’

  There was more whispering and hesitation: but no one moved. Alcibiades felt that the situation had been carefully prepared for.

  ‘Very well,’ said the Councillor. ‘Alcibiades, son of Cleinias, the citizen body has approved your candidature, and you may proceed to the oath. In your case—’ he hesitated, and glanced at the Ward members behind him—‘there is a special condition attaching to acceptance.’ So Pericles had been as good as his word. ‘Your property entitles you to enrolment in the ranks of the Knights, with the privilege of serving in the cavalry arm in time of war. It is the decree of this Assembly that you be placed instead in the class of Yeomen, and debarred from rank as a Knight, with all the privileges appertaining thereto, until such time as this Assembly shall decree to the contrary.’

  His face flushed, Alcibiades repeated, the words of the Oath. They echoed oddly in his ears: ‘. . . to honour the Gods of Athens, her laws, ordinances and decrees; to obey all calls to office that may be placed upon me . . . to defend the City against all manner of enemies . . . to be a faithful member of this the Clan to which I was born . . .’ Then the clerk was inscribing his name on the inheritance list. At least I’ve got that, he thought bitterly. He was conscious of the cold, unfriendly gaze of a hundred faces as he walked out. Very carefully he neither faltered nor looked back.

  • • • • •

  ‘There’s still no news from Corinth,’ said Aspasia. She was pale, and the absence of any cosmetics made her look ten years older.

  Pericles glanced up from his dispatches. ‘We’ll just have to wait. It’s bound to come. soon. My guess is next spring.’ He tapped a report. ‘Things have been happening, you know. Corinth’s trouble is raising a fleet. She’s been remarkably busy hiring rowers.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Wherever she can get them—a good many from the Islands, some from Crete—’

  ‘Are we wise to allow that?’

  ‘It would be hardly politic to show our hand so early in the day. And the cost of enforcing such an embargo would almost outweigh any value it might have. Besides, supposing we did: what would be the result? Stalemate. Nothing would ever happen.’

  ‘Are you so sure you want something to happen?’

  Pericles made no reply. Instead he said, casually: ‘I was down at the Piraeus this morning.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I was watching the young men training. It was good to know that when the time comes, Athens will have such fine and faithful citizens to serve her. We should be proud of our youth.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Aspasia tonelessly, ‘we should be proud of our youth.’ She walked silently out towards the women’s quarters. Pericles looked after her for a moment, his eyes troubled.

  • • • • •

  The armour was heavy, and in the full sun roasting hot. The line of spears wavered and sagged as the boys moved slowly forward. The instructor, a scarred and grizzled old veteran of over sixty, kept up a scathing commentary.

  ‘Keep your spears up! Level. You’re meant to stab the enemy, not the ground. And move in line, don’t straggle about like dancing girls! . . .’ The two files halted facing each other at spear’s length. Now stay where you are. Stand quite still.’ He walked between them to the end of the ranks. ‘Do you see what’s happened? You’re both outflanking on the left. Do you know why? I’ll tell you. It’s instinctive. The right-hand man of the file has his right side exposed, doesn’t he? So he edges in a bit. No one wants to break the line, so they all follow him. The same thing’s going on on the other side. Happens in every battle, so there’s nothing to blame you for really. You’ve got to try and avoid it as much as possible, that’s all. All right: that’ll do for today. Break ranks and return weapons to the armoury. And then go straight home. I’m responsible for you young fellows’ morals as well as your training.’ A half-hearted laugh arose. ‘And that doesn’t mean you can go swilling wine in any knocking-shop down on the docks. If I catch any of you at it, he’s up before the Councillor of the Ward. That’s all.’

  Alcibiades said, as he took off his helmet: ‘That’ll be the first thing the old sot does himself.’ He ran his fingers through his cropped hair. He checked in helmet, greaves and cuirass to the armourer’s assistant, and put on the short cloak and broad-brimmed hat that were the mark of his status. He said: ‘Come and dine with me tomorrow.’

  Adeimantus smiled. ‘And will there be twenty Persian dancing-girls this time?’ he asked.

  ‘Who told you about that?’

  ‘My dear Alcibiades, your worthy uncle has been spreading the tale of your prowess all over the City. Anyway, what were you really doing in Abydos?’

  ‘Learning Persian,’ said Alcibiades solemnly. Adeimantus laughed. ‘Till tomorrow, then,’ he said; and added: ‘I hear Socrates has been looking for you.’

  ‘Possibly. Anytus has asked me to dinner tonight.’

  ‘Are you going?’

  ‘I said I wasn’t. But I may change my mind.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Can you come today instead of tomorrow?’

  ‘If you like. Why?’

  ‘I think we might have some sport with Anytus.’

  ‘Excellent. I shall be there.’

  • • • • •

  Adeimantus leaned back on his couch and said: ‘A table to dine a dozen, and a bedroom suitable for two. What more could anyone want?’ He drank his wine appreciatively.

  The dozen places were all filled; mostly with friends of Alcibiades in training with him. But the right-hand place was taken by Axiochus, his leathery face more lined than ever; and next to him was a dark, thin, sullen-looking young man whom nobody else knew. He had thick eyebrows that nearly met in the middle, and seemed disinclined for conversation. Everyone was mildly drunk.

  Alcibiades rose to his feet and said: ‘Gentlemen, I have a plan to propose to you.’ There were a few cheers, and someone hammered on the table with his goblet. ‘But first,’ he went on, ‘I want to introduce you to a friend of mine, who seems to be too modest to introduce himself.’ He pointed to the dark young man, who looked visibly embarrassed to be thus singled out. Adeimantus, watching closely, saw that his dress was cheap and worn. Alcibiades went on: ‘This, my friends, is Thrasyllus. Thrasyllus is . . . is a worthy citizen: A very good friend of mine. I only met him today, but that doesn’t matter. A very good friend.’ He blinked owlishly, and took a long pull of wine. ‘Now there’s one unfortunate thing about my friend Thrasyllus—he hasn’t got any property.’

  Thrasyllus seemed about to say something, but thought better of it. His face was a dark red. Alcibiades went on heedless:

  ‘Now in this City of ours we pride ourselves on e-equality. Now what’s equality? tell you. It means that all the good fellows have what they need. And where do they get it? From the unworthy citizens who have mistakenly . . . acquired what was not their due. Correct?’ A dozen voices informed him it was so. ‘Now,’ he said, ‘you all know Anytus.’ Someone made a rude noise. ‘I see you do. Well, the one thing I know about Anytus is
that he has an unp-paralleled collection of gold plate that he doesn’t know what to do with. And where did he get it, I ask you? From his grandfather. And where did his grandfather get it?’ His voice sank to a hoarse whisper. ‘Anytus’ grandfather,’ he announced, ‘was a p-pirate. Now I ask you, is it not a stain on our constitution that Anytus should continue to enjoy, his ill-gotten gains, and f-flaunt them in the faces of worthier citizens? I see you agree with me. Very well. Tonight I propose that we take justice into our hands. We shall redistribute Anytus’ gold plate.’ The cheers redoubled. Alcibiades raised a hand for silence. ‘But to show that we are the administrators of justice, and not mere common pilferers, we shall only re-redistribute half of it. No one can make random and unworthy accusations against us then.’ He sat down rather abruptly.

  ‘And what do we do with it when we’ve got it?’ asked Adeimantus. Alcibiades put a finger over his lips. ‘That’s . . . a

  secret,’ he said. ‘You’ll see when the time comes.’

  Axiochus stretched in his chair. ‘I’m too old for such goings-on,’ he said. ‘I’m going home. You young people enjoy yourselves. Give my love to Anytus.’ He rose and walked out unsteadily.

  • • • • •

  Anytus’ party had not been a great success. The guests had refused to sparkle, the wine was dubious, and even the famous gold plate had provoked few comments. The conversation had ground stickily to a standstill. Anytus dispiritedly pushed back the lank strands of fair hair from his forehead, and prayed for a miracle.

  At this moment one of his slaves came in apologetically and said: ‘Excuse me, sir, but there’s a crowd of young gentlemen outside. They’re all rather . . . the worse for drink. They seem to want your gold plate, sir.’

  The guests showed signs of recovering interest. This was something like entertainment.

  ‘They say they won’t come in—but they’ve got about ten big Thracian slaves with them, who’re as drunk as they are. What ought we to do, sir? There’s only three of us in the house?’