Achilles His Armour

by Peter Green

  ‘You’d better stay with me for the night.’ Adeimantus, more immediately practical, delved into a cupboard and brought out bread and fruit. ‘We’ll all have to lie low till this affair blows over.’

  ‘And then?’ said Axiochus, with the ghost of a smile. But the question remained unanswered. And when, early the next morning, Adeimantus woke from his sleep on the floor, and went over to the bed to rouse his guest, he saw that Axiochus would never need to ask any questions again.

  Chapter 34

  There were still honest men at Samos after all. When Peisander left for Athens, Charminus, in a flurry of anticipation, attempted an immediate oligarchic coup by himself. Never was a move worse timed. The fleet rose against him and, the common people of Samos with them. Some thirty of the conspirators were put to death at once, and the remainder exiled. Within two days—so swift had been the turn of events—a democratic government was restored on the island. For all this two men had been responsible: a captain and an ordinary soldier. With their former commanders exiled, the troops called an Assembly to elect fresh ones; and Thrasybulus and Thrasyllus were invested with the insignia of generals, and appointed to the command of the fleet.

  So it came about that Thrasyllus kept his promise to Alcibiades, and after many years of poverty was raised to the rank of the man he had envied for so long.

  • • • • •

  All this happened before the news of the revolution at Athens was known on the island; and the new generals, anxious to find out how matters stood in the capital, sent off a single galley to find out. A fortnight later its commander was back on Samos, having arrived alone, in an open boat. To Thrasybulus and Thrasyllus he told a lurid story of rape, torture and murder that made them nearly speechless with fury.

  Thrasyllus said: ‘We’ve got the ships, and we’ve got the men. If they won’t restore the democracy, we could starve them out in a month. They’ve got hardly a galley in the shipyards, and the Treasury must be nearly empty—’

  ‘There’s talk of negotiations with Sparta,’ said the messenger.

  This last piece of information was just enough to make Thrasyllus lose control of himself completely. Thrasybulus watched while he raged and swore, his tall thin body shaking, flecks of foam at the corners of his mouth. At last he broke in, in a matter-of-fact voice: ‘Will you listen to me for a moment? Either these oligarchs sign a peace with Sparta or they don’t. If they do, we shall have to go home and take the consequences. We can’t fight Sparta and Athens. If they don’t, we can hardly leave Ionia open to the Spartan fleet by sailing into the Piraeus to start a counterrevolution.’

  Thrasyllus made a movement of protest, but Thrasybulus went on: ‘If we’re going to fight, we’ll have to fight here first. And that means . . . several things. First and foremost, we can’t afford to let the Spartans get support from Tissaphernes. I know he still isn’t paying the Spartan troops. I know there are rumours of mutiny in Astyochus’ fleet. But there are also rumours that Tissaphernes is bringing up his Phoenician navy.’

  The three men looked at each other.

  ‘Now there’s one thing that’s fairly clear: if Tissaphernes is still withholding pay from the Spartans, it means he wants to remain neutral. Does that suggest anything to you?’

  Thrasyllus said: ‘You can’t mean that we should re-open negotiations with Persia?’ He was nearly choking with fury.

  ‘What else? Can you suggest an alternative?’

  ‘But . . . but—that means treating with Alcibiades . . .’

  Thrasybulus sighed. ‘Moral scruples are a luxury we are hardly in a position to indulge in at the moment,’ he observed mildly. ‘Even if we don’t get Persia’s help, at least we can ensure her neutrality. And as far as Alcibiades himself is concerned,’—he smiled as he watched Thrasyllus’ face—‘I fancy he will he only too eager to oblige us. His own situation is not particularly secure today. All he wants is to get back to Athens. In the process of doing so he could be extremely useful to us.’

  He pushed back the grey hair off his forehead, and looked at the fuming Thrasyllus almost with amazement, his thick underlip jutting. ‘I’m not interested in what Alcibiades has been,’ he went on. ‘All I know is that his talents have been, and are being, entirely wasted because of men like you who drive him into the enemy’s arms by your ridiculous moral prejudices. The fools who recalled him from Sicily have paid a pretty price for their stupidity. Do you want to join them?’

  Thrasyllus said, in a cold, restrained voice: ‘What will you do with him?’

  ‘Bring him to Samos—if he’ll come. And get an alliance from the Persian King with his help.’

  Thrasyllus looked at this cheerfully calculating man with something approaching real loathing.

  ‘He’ll come,’ he said at length, bitterly. ‘He’ll come . . . And when he does, he’ll charm you all out of your senses . . .’

  He got up and went out. ‘But as for the Persian alliance,’ he added at the door, without turning round, ‘that’s another matter altogether.’

  • • • • •

  The whole Athenian force came down to the harbour to welcome him. News of his coming had spread through the island, and the Samians themselves were crowding round the docks and the mole for a first glimpse of this legendary figure. So thick was the crowd that the sailors went aboard their galleys, lining the bulwarks, even swarming up to the mastheads; and ashore the white roof-tops were black with women and children. Such was the sight that greeted Alcibiades when he sailed slowly through the harbour mouth in Thrasybulus’ flagship, high in the stern, tears standing in his eyes as he knew himself once again among his own people, and heard the familiar voices of those from whom he had been cut off for five long years. There was nothing about him now to remind them of his past associations: with his beard fully-grown once more, and his hair cropped, dressed in the simple garb of an Athenian soldier, it was as if he had never left them.

  And then, suddenly, an old sailor who had served with him on the Sicilian expedition cried out ‘Welcome back, General!’; and in an instant the whole fleet took it up, the cheering running and spreading like flame through dry grass, the men at the mastheads yelling and waving their helmets, till the harbour walls echoed. Perhaps none of them could have explained why; but this legendary aristocrat, standing alone with bowed head as he passed through the crowded squadrons, formed for them a last link with the past, the old glorious days of triumph and victory, the Athens they had known and loved, and which now was in danger of passing away for ever. And because of this, it seemed to them as if he was the only man who could bring those days back again: their cheers, whether they knew it or not, were for a saviour.

  He stood there, his heart in his throat, the ships and cheering men swimming before his eyes, unable to speak. He was forty years old and his exile was ended.

  Thrasybulus gave the order to his crew, and the anchor-stone splashed over the bows. The flagship rested in the centre of a horseshoe, whose open end was the sea. On each side were the ships of the fleet, and before them the harbour. Slowly the cheering died away: the men were silent, waiting.

  Thrasybulus nodded to Alcibiades; but for a moment the exile still did not speak. He felt the hot August sun streaming down on him, dancing over the cobalt water, sparkling from the helmets and shields of the men he knew so well; and he could only raise his hand in greeting, the words he had so carefully prepared all forgotten. By some subtle bond of sympathy his audience seemed to divine what he was feeling; they still waited patiently, and the only sound audible was the soft lapping of water round the prows of the vessels.

  But when at last Alcibiades spoke, his voice rang out resonantly, without nervousness or hesitation. He thanked them for their generosity in simple and sincere words that moved them as much as the first sight of him had done; then, without any further delay, he began to talk of their present emergency, only glancing for an instant on his own banishment, and wasting no time on diatribes against his personal enemie
s.

  ‘I have Tissaphernes’ solemn word,’ he said, slowly and deliberately, ‘that if he can assure himself that the Athenians are to be trusted, they shall never want for supplies from him while he has anything left to give; no, not even if he has to melt down his own silver couch into coin. More: he will bring his great Phoenician fleet to you rather than to the Spartans . . .’ At this another great cheer went up. ‘But, he declares, he will only give you his confidence if I myself am allowed free passage and safe conduct, to pass as I will between him and you, to serve as his security for your alliance. I am both in his hands and yours; and if I can be of service to you, I will willingly take the risk.’

  A vast shouting and tumult broke out at his final words. At first it lacked all coherence; but after a while many voices could be heard, calling all together for Alcibiades to be made general. Now the chant was taken up from ship to ship, in a steady rhythm, becoming louder and louder, while Alcibiades stood motionless.

  It was Thrasybulus who broke the tension, with one simple gesture of acquiescence. He took off his own general’s cloak, and in the sight of the whole fleet put it about Alcibiades’ shoulders.

  A great roar of approval went up. Only Thrasyllus remained silent, staring bitterly at the scene, watching the accomplishment of all he had feared. In this instant he hated Alcibiades more than he had ever done before: more even than when twenty years before, the young aristocrat had with a careless gesture of generosity set him on the path that had finally led him to his present high command.

  • • • • •

  Alcibiades’ speech had repercussions far beyond the harbour of Samos, as he had fully intended. News of it came to the Spartan fleet at Miletus. Already on the point of revolt through lack of pay, they now assumed that Tissaphernes, with the connivance of their own commanders, was once more playing them false; and the result was an ugly insurrection that nearly cost Astyochus his life. Not content with this, they expelled the Satrap’s garrison from Miletus, declaring that they no longer recognised his authority, and refused to abide by the terms of a treaty which Tissaphernes himself was the first to violate. It was at this moment that Alcibiades once more presented himself at Sardis.

  The Satrap, who had had news of these fresh developments the previous day, was not disposed to receive the Athenian kindly; nor was his temper improved when he learnt of the rise in Alcibiades’ fortunes. This self-confident man, a general now with a fleet behind him, was very different from the fugitive who had fled to the court at Sardis a few months before. Alcibiades stood before him in the great hall where he had once bowed before Darius, and calmly told him of the promises he had made in Persia’s name to Thrasybulus and his men. But even so Tissaphernes showed no signs of what was passing in his mind.

  ‘You are an extremely rash man, Alcibiades,’ he said mildly. ‘You have no means of compelling me to keep these promises you have made, and I hardly imagine that if you fail to do so your new command will survive for long. Besides—’ and his eyes wandered down the hall to where the tall Iranian guards stood at the door with drawn scimitars—‘what is to prevent me detaining you here? You offered yourself to me as a hostage for the good behaviour of the Athenian fleet. I am much minded to take you at your word.’

  Alcibiades smiled. ‘I think not,’ he said. ‘There are more than three thousand fighting men on Samos. If anything happens to me; it will be you who pays the price for it. I would advise you not to put your satrapy in danger if you value your position.’

  The Satrap’s eyes narrowed. It was a shot in the dark; but it had gone home. And Alcibiades immediately realised the fact. With slow deliberation he turned his back on Tissaphernes and walked with insolent leisureliness down the whole length of the hall, and out at the great double doors; and the Satrap made no sign to the guards to stop him. But nevertheless when he had gone, Tissaphernes, now thoroughly disconcerted, summoned his bodyguard and set out for Miletus. At all costs the Spartans must be convinced that the Phoenician fleet was a reality, and that it was for them it was now waiting in the distant shipyards of Pamphylia.

  • • • • •

  If Alcibiades was disappointed by this somewhat abortive interview, he showed nothing of it when he, returned to Samos and found six extremely nervous emissaries from the revolutionary government in Athens waiting for him. He greeted them with amused cordiality, and brought them before a special assembly of the troops, under protection of a strong armed guard.

  But even Alcibiades had not reckoned on the reception they would get. The meeting was held in a large open field outside the town; and women bolted their doors as the angry howls of the mob reached their ears. The envoys at first could not make themselves heard at all; the sailors pelted them with cabbages and rotten eggs, yelling out to have such traitors put to death on the spot. It was only when Alcibiades himself went up on to the improvised platform and called them to order that they gave the poor wretches a hearing.

  Their leader was both puzzled and indignant; but he did not lack courage. Wiping the filth from his face, he cried out that the recent change of government had been made to save the city, not to destroy it. Howls and leers; ‘If we had wanted to betray Athens to the Spartans,’ he cried desperately, ‘we would have done it when Agis was at our gates. What you have been told is completely untrue. No free-born woman has been outraged under our command. Your relatives are in no danger. Their property is as safe as it ever was. All the Five Thousand will have their fair share in the government—’

  But at this complete pandemonium broke out. ‘And what about the rest of us?’ yelled one burly oarsman. ‘We’re all free men. Are you asking us to surrender our rights?’ The crowd seethed and raged. And then another, and more dangerous cry made itself heard. ‘Are we going to let our wives and children suffer while we sit here idle?’ ‘We’re the people who can restore the democracy. What’s the use of rotting away in Samos?’ ‘To the Piraeus! Down with the oligarchs! To the Piraeus!’

  Perhaps no other man could have held them; and even so Alcibiades knew well that he was risking the command he had at last won so dearly. He sprang up once more; and slowly the yelling mob sank back into silence.

  ‘I want to see Athens again as much as you do,’ he said, grinning; and the sailors broke out into great guffaws of laughter. ‘We’ll all get there when the time comes. But for the love of the Gods, use your brains. Is this a time to go out to attack your own countrymen? This fleet is the only thing that’s holding back Sparta. If, you sail now, all Ionia’ll fall, and the Hellespont with it. Fine fools you’ll all look in the City when you’re starved into surrender because the grain-ships can’t get through.’ His words had a sharply sobering effect. Turning to the envoys he said, in a voice that carried to the farthest man present: ‘Tell your masters that we will recognise no government that does not restore a free Council and Assembly. Tell them that we demand the deposition of the Four Hundred. And above all, tell them to set a bold face against the enemy. Let there be no more talk of surrender or negotiation. If the City is saved, our parties may some day be reconciled. But if either the government in Athens or the fleet here in Samos be destroyed there will be nothing left for reconciliation. That is my message to them, and the will of all the free citizens here assembled.’

  Hardly audible amid the wild cheering that greeted these words, Thrasyllus, said sourly to Thrasybulus: ‘He was elected as a supernumerary general. Now he talks as if he were commander-in-chief. I told you how it would be.’

  Thrasybulus smiled. ‘For myself, I ask no better. Could you have controlled the men just now? All that he said was true.’

  Thrasyllus frowned. ‘What does his popularity rest on? Tissaphernes. What proof have we that we shall see any more of the Persian fleet and Persian gold than Sparta has done? His word. And what’s that worth?’

  ‘We shall see.’

  ‘We shall indeed. Astyochus has been recalled to Sparta. I heard the news in the port this morning. His successor is a man called
Mindarus. I imagine that Mindarus will be less fatally susceptible to bribery. He certainly couldn’t be a worse commander.’

  ‘Meaning?’

  ‘Meaning that I think we shall soon see some action. And when that happens, we shall be in a better position to judge just how much our new general is worth to us. Tissaphernes will be forced to show his hand.’

  ‘We shall see,’ repeated Thrasybulus stubbornly; ‘we shall see . . .’

  • • • • •

  Within a week it seemed as if Thrasyllus’ words would be proved only too true. A report reached Samos that the Persian Satrap had sailed east to Pamphylia, where the Phoenician fleet was waiting, and had taken the Spartan commissioners with him. Thrasyllus took some pleasure in breaking the news to Alcibiades in person. But Alcibiades received it calmly enough.

  ‘You seem to have very little faith in my good word,’ he said.

  ‘Are you surprised?’

  ‘Please calm yourself. Remember that you are a senior officer now, and not a barrack-room orator. I promise you one of two things: either I shall bring back this fleet for the service of Athens, or at the least I shall take good care that Sparta never sees it.’

  For a moment he thought Thrasyllus would strike him. His face turned from red to a dirty white under his lank black hair, and he took a step forward, fists clenched. Then he controlled himself and sneered: ‘Your Persian puppet doesn’t seem to be as amenable as you’d have us believe, does he?’ He turned abruptly on his heel and strode away.

  The news was indeed disquieting; so disquieting that early the next morning Alcibiades took a small detachment of thirteen ships and himself sailed eastward by Rhodes to the Pamphylian Gulf to follow Tissaphernes’ movements.