Achilles His Armour

by Peter Green

  Anytus said: ‘Who’s the leader of this party?’

  ‘The young Alcibiades, sir.’

  ‘I might have known. Well, there’s no problem really, is there? Let the slaves in. They can have what they want.’ He poured himself another drink.

  There was a confused noise in the passage, and half a dozen big raw-boned Thracians came in without saying a word. They looked at the laden table. One of them produced a large sack, and another, making a rough division across the middle of the table, swept half its contents away into the sack plate, food, wine and all. Then they went out as unceremoniously as they had come.

  The guests suddenly found their tongues and began, all at once, to make violent protestations against such an insolent trick. To play it on such a generous host! Prompt action should be taken. The insult should be avenged . . .

  Anytus smiled happily. The party was a success after all. He felt positively grateful to the young scamp. He held up his hand and said: ‘You know, you’re being very hasty. There was nothing to stop him taking it all, was there? Instead of which he’s left us half.’ The guests relieved their feelings with loud laughter.

  ‘Come on, come on,’ said Anytus, his pink face flushed and cheerful: ‘drink up. Those who haven’t got cups will have to share,’ he added archly.

  • • • • •

  Thrasyllus said: ‘I don’t need your loot.’ He was aggressively drunk, and very near hysteria. He stood in front of Alcibiades and the rest in the moonlight. The sack lay between them.

  ‘If you’re worrying about Anytus, don’t. He took it as a joke, and anyway he’d only look a fool trying to get it back. And you do need it. It’s no use your pretending you don’t.’

  ‘To hell with your charity, you damned long-nosed aristocrat.’

  ‘Don’t be a fool,’ said Alcibiades, gently. He had drunk himself practically sober. ‘I wouldn’t go round doing this for everybody. One of these days you’ll thank me for this. When you’re my general, I shouldn’t wonder.’

  Thrasyllus stood irresolute for a moment, his fingers twitching, his dark eyes on the motionless group in front of him. The moon cast odd shadows on his face, dissecting it into inhuman patches of black and white. No one said a word. Then he suddenly swung the sack on to his back and walked quickly away.

  Only when he had gone did the tension relax. Then Adeimantus said lightly: ‘You have a genius for making enemies.’

  ‘What do you mean? I’ve made a friend for life.’

  ‘You’re a bigger fool than I thought. Don’t you know that there’s no worse thing in the world than to be under art obligation to anyone? And in public, too. lay you any odds that you never see him again in your life. At any rate, he won’t seek you out.’

  He strode quickly away down the moonlit street. The rest of the party hesitated, then followed him.

  Chapter 8

  Adeimantus paused in the middle of polishing his shield and said: ‘Have you heard anything of the debate?’

  Alcibiades grinned. ‘No. But I can tell you in advance what the result will be. They’ll have a long and solemn conference, and then announce that, having weighed all considerations, the Athenian people have decided that the course most consistent with public morality and their own consciences is to support Corcyra.’

  ‘What makes you so sure? I wouldn’t trust the Assembly to come to any kind of predictable decision.’

  ‘Nor would I, unless they were well briefed beforehand. Do you really imagine this debate means anything? Everyone’s mind has been made up in advance. They’ll follow the Olympian’s lead, and the Corinthians can go cry for their supper. There’s not much doubt where they’ll look for it, either.’

  ‘Sparta?’

  ‘Where else? You know, despite everything, I can’t help admiring Pericles. He’s so thorough-going. And by heaven, he knows what he wants. If only he wouldn’t delude himself with his idealism.’

  ‘What would you do if you were in his place?’

  Alcibiades flushed, and slapped his sword back hard into its scabbard. ‘I’m not,’ he said, ‘and the situation doesn’t arise. If I were—probably exactly what he’s doing now.’ He thought for a moment, playing with the problem despite himself. ‘He’ll get the Corcyrean navy, and secure the way to the West. So far, so good. But it’s no use supposing that he can get everything he wants without war. As soon as things become clear enough for their blockheaded allies to see which way the wind’s blowing, do you think Corinth will be the only candidate knocking at Sparta’s door? He’s got to secure the Isthmus. If he doesn’t, any Spartan army can drive straight through and link up with Boeotia. We’d be caught between them.’

  ‘But that means coercing Megara. She’s got the Isthmus ports. And I can’t see her joining us as an ally. She’s as Dorian as Sparta. Why else did she revolt from us?’

  ‘He’ll find a way. He’ll have to work fast, though.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because he’ll have trouble to contend with at home. Have you forgotten that Thucydides’ exile ends this month? If I were in Thucydides’ position, I’d develop a sudden affection for the Peace Party. Or try a few more prosecutions.’

  The voice of the instructor came, calling them to fall in.

  Alcibiades picked up his shield. ‘Come on,’ he said; ‘let’s go and learn how to be soldiers.’

  • • • • •

  Pericles paced nervously round the room. ‘I don’t like it at all. We argued for two hours, and they still wanted an alliance with Corinth.’ Aspasia watched him impersonally for a moment. Then she said:

  ‘It’s irritating to have one’s plans tripped up, isn’t it? Especially when one’s so sure that they’re right.’ There was the ghost of a mocking tone in her voice. ‘Everyone seems to want peace at any price. Except you. Don’t forget: once you’ve committed yourself there’s no way out.’

  ‘I’m surer of this than I have been of anything else in my life.’

  ‘Very well. Then there’s no point in arguing. But let me give you some advice. You can still make your affiance with Corcyra. But not an offensive one: stick to defence for the moment. Don’t let them put a clause in that’ll force you to attack Corinth with them. To assist one another against invasion, yes: no one can accuse us of being the aggressor then. That’ll soften the Assembly. And play as hard as you can on the points that were raised today. The advantage of the Corcyrean fleet. The strategical position of Corcyra for operations in the West. That should bring them round.’

  Pericles stopped his restless pacing and said: ‘You’re right, of course. The debate’s being finished tomorrow morning. This ought to decide it.’ He smiled rather wrily. ‘Where should I be without you?’

  The question was clearly rhetorical. At any rate, Aspasia made no answer to it.

  • • • • •

  ‘What did I tell you?’ said Alcibiades the next day.

  Adeimantus shook his head. ‘The odds were even,’ he remarked. ‘I admit it was probably Pericles who pulled them round. But I can’t see how he could have arranged the whole thing in advance.’

  ‘That,’ said Alcibiades, ‘is why I doubt if you’ll ever make a statesman. Come and have a drink.’

  • • • • •

  ‘Well,’ said Aspasia, ‘you’ve got what you want. What are you going to do now?’

  ‘Send a supporting squadron to Corcyra.’

  ‘A little blatant, don’t you think? If there’s a clash the whole of Greece will mobilise in a week.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Pericles; ‘it’ll only be a token force. Ten ships, in fact. I’ve no intention of rushing things. And they’ll have strict instructions to avoid an engagement at all costs. Unless, that is, the Corinthians actually attack the island.’

  ‘I see. A holding policy. Who’s going to be in command of this—diplomatic navy?’

  ‘Cimon’s son, Lacedaemonius. A suggestive name, don’t you think? He’s inherited all his father’s pro-Spartan se
ntiments.’

  ‘Then why . . .?’

  ‘Obvious. He won’t do anything rash. He’ll keep the peace at all costs. Besides, I wouldn’t send anyone I had any regard for on a sortie like this. Ten ships is almost an insult to any admiral.’

  ‘Has Lacedaemonius been informed?’

  ‘Yes. He didn’t seem particularly pleased. I can’t say I altogether blame him.’

  ‘Are you sure that ten ships will be enough?’

  ‘They’ll do to begin with. If there’s any trouble we can always send another squadron to reinforce them.’ Pericles frowned. ‘There’s another problem that might be troublesome later. I’ve had a report in that Perdiccas has been sending missions to Sparta and Corinth.’

  ‘The King of Macedonia?’

  ‘Yes. I might have known there’d have been trouble there. Ever since we threw him over for his brother Philip. Now he’s trying to stir up a revolt in the East, at Potidaea.’ He passed a hand over his forehead. ‘There’s nothing we can do yet. According to this report his envoys haven’t got back from Corinth, and I don’t know what sort of a reception they had. But I can guess.’

  Aspasia was silent for a moment; then she said: ‘Did you anticipate this—as well as the Corinthian business?’

  Pericles said flatly: ‘It was always possible. But I confess I didn’t expect it so soon.’

  Aspasia shivered. She had a momentary vision of gigantic and far-reaching coils of intrigue spreading slowly outwards from the room in which she stood. Action bred reaction: the deed once done was irrevocable, and the train of consequences prolonged itself without any further stimulus. She stared at the man in front of her as if she had never seen him before. For the first time it came home to her that Pericles was getting old.

  • • • • •

  Two months later Lacedaemonius led his tiny squadron out through the merchant shipping that packed the wharves of the Piraeus. Alcibiades and his fellow-recruits watched them go. It was a fine morning, clear and licit, and the water sparkled as it flew from the oar-blades. Only a small knot of loafers saw them off. As the last galley slipped through the harbour mouth, Alcibiades sighed and said: ‘That’s his first mistake.’

  ‘You mean he ought to have sent a larger fleet?’

  ‘Of course he ought. Is this a time to play about with treaties and public opinion? Every minute counts. If he had sent a hundred, we might win the whole game at one throw. But not he. Diplomacy! What’s the point of it? Everybody knows what his plans are. It’s common talk in every port from here to . . . to Epidamnus. If that detachment gets engaged and is defeated—and it well may be—we’ve lost prestige and gained precisely nothing. Not even time.’

  Adeimantus was only half-listening, His eyes were fixed on a single small vessel which had been held up by the exodus of Lacedaemonius’ squadron, and was now being warped alongside the dock in an empty berth. He put his hand to his forehead to ward off the glare of the sun.

  ‘Look there. Do you see that man coming off that vessel that’s just moored? That’s right. Down to your right, beside the big grain-ship. Do you recognise him?’

  Alcibiades looked. ‘Gods,’ he said: ‘Thucydides.’

  ‘Mistake number two?’

  ‘Yes. And a much bigger one. If my beloved guardian had had any sense, he’d have seen to it that Thucydides never came back from exile.’ He watched the big man with the hook-nose and dark hair disappear into the crowd. There seemed to be a disturbing number of people who were expecting him. ‘The Olympian must have got more scrupulous in his old age. I gather he wasn’t above . . . disposing of people when he was trying to get into power.’ He stretched his arms in the familiar gesture. ‘Idealism,’ he said, with a wealth of contempt in the word. ‘The real trouble with the Olympian is that he’s got a divided mind. Half of it is on politics. The rest is up in the air with his intellectual friends. The best thing that ever happened to him was Anaxagoras’ exile. And talking of exiles, I fancy we shall see another crop of—er—moral indictments in the near future. That was always Thucydides’ strong line, wasn’t it? Unless, which I doubt, he meets with an unfortunate accident.’ He laughed gently. ‘I don’t know why I bother with it all,’ he said: ‘I’m destined to be an ordinary footsoldier. And the way things are going at the moment, I shall probably be dead in a year. So will you.’ He stared out to sea, his eye following the rapidly vanishing squadron.

  ‘You think it’s as certain as that?’

  ‘I’ll take a wager with you. Within a month that detachment will be lured into an unfortunate battle with Corinth. I won’t venture to prophesy what the result will be. But I know one thing. As soon as it happens, Corinth will turn to Sparta, if she hasn’t done so already. And then the Olympian will suddenly develop a long-hidden interest in the Isthmus. After which we shall be mobilised, and probably be killed in some damned silly skirmish round the Megarid.’

  ‘That’s on the knees of the Gods.’

  ‘I wish I had your enviable capacity for not thinking.’ He took Adeimantus affectionately by the arm. ‘At any rate,’ he said, ‘you’ll be a comfortable sort of person to die with.’

  • • • • •

  A week later the year’s initial training at the Piraeus was completed, and the young men were drafted for a further twelve months’ service in the frontier forts of Attica. The various postings were read out on parade. Alcibiades and Adeimantus found themselves assigned to Oropus, a northern outpost on the Euboean Gulf, close to the Boeotian frontier.

  It was here, some six months later, that Aspasia’s letter reached him. His heart beating, he opened it; and a faint, almost imperceptible whiff of dried sweet grass came to his nostrils above that of the thyme which surrounded him. His eyes devoured the familiar graceful writing; and for an hour or more he sat there, reading and re-reading, till every word of the letter was imprinted on his brain.

  ‘I swore not to meet or speak to you again,’ it began without preamble; ‘but nothing was said about writing. I suppose this is merely a sophistry, such as the people would have had me condemned for. In any case, whether that be so or not, as Euripides has said, “It was only my tongue that swore, and not my mind.” I have to write to you: not only because to abjure all communication with you is impossible for me, but because there is much has happened with which I feel you should be acquainted. You see I still cherish hopes for your future.

  ‘You will have heard, no doubt, of the trial which has been held within the last few days, and of which I formed the central figure. You will have, as I did, few doubts as to the cause of it. Thucydides returned from exile a day or two before you left, and immediately took steps for my prosecution. I don’t admire his inventive qualities particularly; all he could think of were the charges brought against poor Pheidias years ago: impiety and illicit procuring. He didn’t prosecute himself; he stayed in the background and got Hermippus the comic poet to do his work for him. You can imagine what sort of a speech it was. I had behaved in a fashion unbecoming to a decent Athenian wife. It was emphasised, of course, that I was neither decent nor Athenian; nor, for that matter, Pericles’ wife. The old story about my activities in Miletus was dragged up, and it was implied that I was running a similar organisation for Pericles’ benefit. If it hadn’t been so wretched and sordid a business, I could have laughed at it. But they got what they wanted: Pericles defended me himself I begged him not to: but he insisted.

  ‘And this was where Thucydides made his great mistake. He thought Pericles would assert his position, would argue with dignity and authority, and that his frigidness would condemn me out of hand. He did nothing of the sort; and when I listened to him, for almost the first time in my life I felt shame. He wept. I have never seen him weep before in all the time we have been together. He pleaded for me as a young lover might plead for his bride. Thucydides and Hermippus were flabbergasted, and it was clear from the start which way the Assembly would go. After he had spoken it was all over except for the formality of the voti
ng. I was exonerated by an overwhelming majority, and one would suppose that Pericles’ reputation was higher than ever before.

  ‘But I’m not so certain. A great deal has been happening in the past month or so to shake public confidence in his infallibility. Particularly in the North-West, where thirty Athenian ships have made the whole Corinthian fleet look foolish. Lacedaemonius was forced to intervene in a brush between two Corinthian and Corcyrean squadrons off the Sybota Islands. It was a stupid affair, hardly improved by the Corinthians butchering all their prisoners, and then having the effrontery to try and turn the incident into political capital. But Lacedaemonius handled their herald very tactfully—he made it quite clear that he wasn’t hindering their movements in any way, merely doing his duty by Corcyra. Both sides set up trophies of victory and withdrew.

  ‘But Corinth won’t forget in a hurry. The squadron came back a week ago, and the skirmish is the joke of the Piraeus. The sailors say neither the Corinthians nor the Corcyreans have any idea of modern naval tactics. They cram their galleys with soldiers and have a land-battle at sea. On the other hand, it seems to me that we’ve done either too little or too much. If Lacedaemonius had openly accepted battle, he might have lost, it’s true, and that would have been a blow to our prestige. But not, I should have thought, an irretrievable one. On the other hand, if he had won, we should have crippled Corinth at the outset.

  ‘Secondly, Perdiccas of Macedon cannot expand his interests eastward with Amphipolis blocking the way, and it is fairly certain that he has been spending a good deal of time and money sending agents to Potidaea to stir up rebellion there. It is also clear that these efforts have been supplemented by Corinth. Our Council have sent a somewhat strongly-worded note to the Potidaeans, telling them to pull down their seaward walls, dismiss their Corinthian magistrates, and to refuse to receive any successors that may be appointed. This can do nothing but precipitate a crisis. Potidaea pays tribute to Athens, but remains a Corinthian colony; and I regard this action as high-handed and impetuous.’