Socrates waited politely for me to translate. Then he said, ‘The little ones have given a good reply. What else do we desire?’
Dinu raised his hand. ‘Fame and riches,’ he said. ‘That’s what I desire in life.’ He glanced at Alcibiades, who gave a small nod of approval.
Kid Plato said nothing. He merely watched us with his inscrutable dark eyes.
Socrates tipped his head to one side and looked at Dinu. ‘By “fame”, do you mean kleos, the glory that comes with beating an enemy, or notoriety, a reputation for doing something not glorious at all?’
‘Either,’ said Dinu happily. ‘I just want to be famous!’
‘So you don’t mind if everyone knows you as the boy who tripped at the starting block of the race and broke both hips?’
Everyone burst out laughing and I had to translate for Crina.
Even in the green light of the courtyard I could see Dinu’s cheeks flush beneath his garland. ‘Obviously not that.’
‘Or say you accidentally burned down the Parthenon? In that case your name would be famous for all of time.’
‘Kleos, then,’ said Dinu. ‘I want kleos fame.’
Socrates stroked his grey beard. ‘Are you aware that to gain kleos you must fight well in a battle or speak persuasively at the Assembly? Both those things require much training. Often months. Years, even. Unless your act of glory is some great sacrifice, like Pheidippides who ran all the way from the plain of Marathon and then dropped dead from the effort.’
‘Forget about fame then,’ said Dinu, taking a gulp of watered wine. ‘I’ll just have riches.’
‘Why do you want to be rich?’
‘So I can be happy.’
Socrates frowned. ‘How can riches make you happy?’
This question seemed to take Dinu by surprise. He glanced at Alcibiades, who raised his eyebrows. ‘Well, being rich would give me lots of time to play games and eat whatever I like and have people wait on me.’
‘By “games”, do you mean training for the Olympic or Panathenaic Games? Running, jumping, throwing the discus?’
Dinu frowned. ‘No. By games I mean battling Spartans …’
I knew he wanted to say, ‘in a computer game’.
Instead he finished by saying, ‘in my imagination’.
‘So your idea of happiness, of eudaimonia, is to sit around playing imaginary battles while people wait on you, bringing you your favourite food and drink?’
Dinu grinned. ‘Day-lon hotee!’ Of course.
‘And after a few months of playing imaginary games and gorging yourself, what would you look like?’
‘Probably fat and pale, but it doesn’t matter. People will like me because I’m rich.’
‘But won’t your friends only like you for your money?’
Dinu’s smile faltered. ‘Maybe a few, but not all.’
‘Don’t you want people to like you for the beauty of your soul, not for your wealth or fame?’
Dinu shrugged. ‘How can someone’s soul be beautiful? It’s inside.’ Then he muttered, ‘As long as I’m rich and famous, I don’t care.’
But he hung his head and his garland fell off.
I could tell Socrates’ questions had got to him.
‘Don’t you see?’ said Socrates gently. ‘The soul is the only important part of us. That’s why I spend every day trying to persuade both young and old to make their soul as good as it can be. The only thing you should think about is whether you are acting rightly or wrongly, to keep your soul pure.’
I raised my hand. ‘Do you say that because you believe that our souls are eternal?’
‘Some, like the Pythagoreans, say that the soul of man never perishes but can be born again into another body, depending on how we lived. But even if they’re mistaken, I believe we should live our lives in the utmost holiness.’
Alcibiades leaned across the low table and grasped Dinu’s shoulder. ‘Have you ever seen a soul? No. But I’ll wager you’ve seen statues to heroes. Stay with me here in Athens. I’ll train you in all the ways of battle. Then you can fight beside me. You’ll be my right-hand man. Together we’ll gain kleos, the good kind of fame, and your name will be known forever.’
Dinu gazed at him with shining eyes.
‘What?’ said Crina. ‘What’s happening?’
‘Your brother is thinking of staying here instead of going back home.’
‘Dinu!’ she cried. ‘You can’t! Apart from everything else, what about the months that will be cut off your life expectancy?’
He shrugged. ‘Geoff and Jeff told us that only kicks in when you come back. I could live a long life here.’
I couldn’t believe it.
My best mate was seriously tempted to stay in the past so he could live out the real-life version of Ancient Greek Assassins.
I opened my mouth to list all the reasons why this would be a terrible decision, but before I could speak someone ran in through the open doors. It was Xanthus, the brown-haired slave, out of breath.
‘Master,’ he panted, kneeling before Alcibiades. ‘I can’t find the girl Crina anywhere. But while I was searching for her, I overheard a priest talking. They say you mocked the Mysteries of Kore last night. They have called an emergency assembly and guards are on their way to arrest you now.’
Then he turned and pointed at me and Dinu.
‘They’re wanted too. The priest says they robbed the temple, tricked some guards into letting them go and then also took part in mocking the Mysteries.’
36
Red Tape
Xanthus the slave boy was obviously terrified.
But it wasn’t us he was worried about. It was Alcibiades.
‘Master!’ Xanthus grabbed his master’s hand and tried to pull him up from the bench. ‘Come! Now!’
Alcibiades laughed. ‘How can I run away? I’m about to lead a fleet of two hundred ships to Syracuse.’
From the street outside a voice boomed, ‘All citizens of Athens! Emergency Assembly is called. The Mysteries have been mocked. To the Pnyx. I repeat: the Mysteries have been mocked! To the Pnyx!’
Alcibiades leaped to his feet. ‘I shall speak to them now!’
Before any of the rest of us could react, he was off his bench and out the door.
‘Master, wait!’ Xanthus went to chase after him, with Dinu close behind.
But somehow Socrates had reached the door first and was blocking their exit with his walking stick and a stern voice.
‘Is this true?’ He looked from Xanthus to Dinu and finally to me. ‘Did you mock the ceremony last night?’
‘It didn’t feel mocking,’ I said. ‘It was very dignified.’
‘But did you hear the gong, drink the kykeon and look in the basket?’
‘We only pretended to drink the kykeon,’ I said. ‘And we never saw a basket.’
‘Did Alcibiades not explain the import of what you were doing?’
‘Not exactly.’ Dinu and I exchanged an uneasy look.
Socrates shook his head with a sigh, but lowered the stick. Through the doorway beyond him we could see a mass of people hurrying past.
‘Friend, we must go,’ said Simon the Shoemaker, ‘or we will be marked with red.’
‘Very well,’ said Socrates.
‘Glaucon, may we go too?’ pleaded Kid Plato.
‘No,’ said Glaucon, but Socrates held up a hand.
‘I think it would be good for your brother to take our young guests to watch. They can see Athenian democracy in action.’ Socrates turned back to Kid Plato. ‘But wait until the red ropes have passed.’
Simon chose one of several staffs leaning against the wall by the front door, then turned to Simona with a grave expression. ‘Once we’ve left, close the doors and bar them. The shop is closed for the rest of the day.’
‘Yes, Father,’ she said.
The three men hurried out into the street and we kids crowded into the doorway to watch. The street was full of people – mostly men, all h
urrying away from the Agora.
‘What are the “red ropes”?’ I asked Kid Plato.
‘Public slaves follow the crowds,’ he explained, ‘the way beaters drive animals into a net on the hunt. They carry ropes dipped in wet red dye. If you’re a citizen and get dye on your clothes, it marks you out as lazy or reluctant, and you can be fined.’
‘What’s happening?’ Crina asked me.
I told her, and added, ‘If they go too slowly, they get red on their clothes.’
‘Look!’ Little Paulos pointed. ‘I see them!’
The crowd was moving faster now and some of the men at the back looked panicked. Then I spotted two stripy archers holding what looked like a dripping red tape between them.
‘Oh, I see them,’ said Crina.
‘Simona!’ cried Helena. ‘Close the doors like Father told you! Quickly!’
But it seemed her warning came too late. A skinny, frizzy-haired man was turning into the shop, and a surge of others looked ready to follow.
37
Emergency Assembly
‘Stop!’ cried Simona, trying to hold back the frizzy-haired young man.
She was strong, but Dinu was stronger.
He shoved Frizzy Hair back onto the street.
The rest of us kids got the doors closed and lowered the crossbeam, a solid plank of oak.
Then we all stood panting with our backs against the door.
Xanthus turned to Simona. ‘Please let me go.’
‘No!’ said Helena. ‘Don’t open the door. We don’t want the shop full of shirkers.’
Dinu said in Greek: ‘As soon as the crowds have passed, I’ll go with Xanthus.’
‘Me too,’ said Kid Plato. ‘Democracy in action!’
I looked at Crina. ‘We’re going to the Pnyx to watch democracy in action.’ Then I added in slow, simple Greek, ‘Do you want to come with us?’
‘Panu gay!’ she cried. Certainly!
Simona said, ‘I wish I could go too.’
‘Why can’t you?’ I asked. ‘Because of your eyes?’
‘No! Because I’m a girl.’
‘What did she just say?’ Crina asked me. ‘I missed a word.’
‘She wants to go too, but she can’t because she’s a girl.’
Crina stared at me in disbelief.
I held up both hands. ‘Don’t blame me! It’s ancient Athens.’
Crina turned to Simona and pointed at herself. ‘Me girl!’ she said in bad Greek. ‘And me going!’
Simona and the other mini-cobblers all stared at her.
‘You’re a girl?’
‘Panu gay!’ Certainly! Then she mimed scissors and cutting her hair.
Simona squinted at her, going right up close. Then she turned and ran out of the courtyard and up a dark stairwell.
‘Now look what you’ve done,’ said Dinu.
Crina gave a snort of disgust. ‘Some democracy! The only people allowed to vote are freeborn men.’ She counted on her fingers. ‘No women, no kids and don’t even get me started on the fact that they have slaves.’
Kid Plato was watching her with his wise black eyes. Then he turned to me. ‘What is she saying?’
I shrugged. ‘She says you can’t call it a democracy if only adult male citizens are allowed to vote.’
Kid Plato looked thoughtful. Then he said to Crina, ‘You speak the truth, O maiden.’
Xanthus was twisting his hands together, ‘Please can we go now? My master needs me.’
‘How old are you, Xanthus?’ I asked the boy.
‘Thirteen summers.’ he said.
I shuddered. He was the same age as me.
‘Do you like your master?’ I asked him.
‘I love him,’ declared Xanthus.
‘I think it should be safe to go out now,’ said Kid Plato. He took off his garland and gave it to one of the twins.
Dinu handed his garland to the other twin and Crina gave hers to Helena.
The twins lifted the crossbeam and let it slide onto the ground before propping it against the wall again. Then Helena pushed open one of the doors just far enough for us all to see that the road was empty again, apart from a stray dog sniffing the wall on the other side.
‘It’s safe,’ said little Paulos confidently. ‘Can I go too?’
Simona’s voice from behind us said, ‘Absolutely not! You stay here with Helena and the twins!’
‘Simona!’ cried Helena. ‘What have you done?’
We all turned to see Simona with freshly chopped hair and wearing a boy’s chiton.
‘I’ve done the same thing she did!’ Simona pointed at Crina then turned to her sister. ‘Helena, once we’ve gone you must close the doors and bar them again. Remember what Father said: the shop is closed for the rest of the day.’
Helena merely nodded, a shocked expression still on her face.
The six of us went out onto the now deserted, furnace-hot road: Kid Plato, Dinu and Xanthus leading the way with me, Crina and Simona following behind.
Simona was squinting around happily, as if she had never been outside before.
The thought occurred to me that by inspiring Simona to take such drastic action, Crina had violated the third rule of time travel: As little interaction as possible.
‘Watch out!’ I grabbed Simona’s arm just in time to save her from stepping in a steaming pile of mule dung.
‘Thank you,’ she said. I kept her arm linked in mine as Kid Plato had done with me earlier.
In front of us, some girls with jars on their heads emerged from between columns of a small building. I could hear splashing inside and realised that the building was a fountain house like on Greek vases my gran had shown me. The girls shot us shy glances but didn’t seem to notice that two of our number were girls disguised as boys.
As we moved past the fountain house, the Acropolis came into view on our left.
‘Look, Alexis,’ said Simona. ‘The Acropolis.’
‘Can you see it?’ I asked. I noticed her eyes seemed less crossed than they had in the courtyard. Maybe looking at distant objects was good for her.
‘Yes. I can see things far off or close up. It is middle distance that is difficult. I lived up on the Acropolis for nine months when I was seven,’ she added.
‘You lived there?’
‘Yes. I was one of the girls chosen to weave a peplos for the goddess. They do it every four years.’
‘Ah!’ I said. ‘For the Panathenaic festival.’
Up ahead Dinu had his head cocked to one side, just as Alcibiades did. The thought occurred to me that he could easily pass for Alcibiades’ son. Simona was watching him and she must have had the same idea, because she turned to me and whispered. ‘Alexis, you must tell your friend Dinu to beware of Alcibiades.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know what Alcibiades said about Socrates? That he is like an ugly Silenus with the beautiful god inside?’
‘Yes?’
She brought her mouth very close to my ear. ‘Alcibiades is the opposite. He is beautiful outside, but inside he is ugly.’
38
The Storyteller
I’ll never forget my eighth birthday, because it was the last birthday when my parents were still alive.
At the time I was into dinosaurs and also Greek myths, so Mum made a cake that showed Hercules bashing a Tyrannosaurus rex with his club. Everyone got a badge with the name of a Greek god or goddess on it and also a plastic dinosaur to take home.
Anyway, the point of this story is Daniel the Storyteller. He was a friend of my dad’s. He was trying to make it as an actor but in the meantime was doing kids’ birthday parties.
I remember being upset because I had asked for a magician and when my dad said we were getting his friend Daniel I thought he would be rubbish. But he was amazing. He didn’t have props or anything. Just his voice and his face and his body. When he started to tell the story everybody went absolutely quiet, even Callum Carter, who hardly ever sat sti
ll. Daniel told us the story of how Odysseus, the wiliest of the Greeks, killed all Penelope’s suitors with his bow and arrows.
That was the day I put aside my dinosaurs to devote myself to ancient Greeks and Romans.
When Alcibiades got up to speak at the Assembly, he captivated the crowds just like Daniel the Storyteller.
First of all, he looked amazing. He was still wearing his long charioteer’s tunic and the breeze blew it against his body so you could see how muscular he was. Second, he was one of the few people there with blond hair. The sun made it glint like gold. Third, even from a distance his gaze was piercing. When he turned your way, it felt as if he was speaking just to you. Then there was the way he moved his body and arms. It made you not want to look away. But the most impressive thing about him was the way he made his voice carry.
We kids had climbed a pine tree to see over the crowds. I reckoned there were five thousand men there at least.
Although the cicadas were chirping loudly around us, we could hear Alcibiades perfectly.
He made his listeners laugh, nod their heads in agreement and finally burst out in rapturous applause.
All except for Crina, Simona and Kid Plato.
‘Wasn’t he brilliant?’ said Dinu in Greek.
‘Amazing,’ I replied in the same language.
But Crina whispered in English, ‘He reminds me of all those politicians who wave their arms a lot but are full of hot air.’
And Simona asked: ‘What did he actually say?’
‘He hardly even addressed the charge,’ came the voice of Kid Plato from the lowest branch. ‘He mainly talked about how he wins every contest he enters so they have to keep him on as general! And like a typical sophist, he won over the crowd.’
I told Crina what Kid Plato had said.
‘Look!’ cried Xanthus, as an official stepped forward. ‘They’re going to vote.’
Five thousand Athenians fell silent.
When the official asked how many people cast their vote to condemn Alcibiades, only a few hands went up.
When he asked how many of them wanted to pardon the general so that he could lead the fleet to Sicily, almost everyone raised an arm or a walking stick high in the air.
Adventure in Athens Page 11