Demeter's Gold
Page 9
“Me either,” Phil quickly told Leonidas about the last night. “Do you think that the attack could be related to this?”
Leonidas shrugged, “Sure it could be, but it might also be a coincidence. I wouldn’t bet the farm.”
“I am starting to have my doubts about coincidences. If you still want to help, this is what I think you should do. Go around, you know, among your ‘peers’ and try to find out from them if anyone has been displaying any unexplained wealth or acting especially unusual, I know it can be difficult to tell with you aristocrats. We have to figure out why they want the treasury. You could make a list of men you think might be involved so you’ll have something to work from. I suppose they would have to be influential without being fabulously wealthy, etc.”, he gestured impatiently in Leonidas’ direction, “You know better than me.”
Leonidas was shaking his head, “No, Phil, this isn’t just about the money. Remember how much else goes with the treasury. The objects have great mystical significance and some believe they possess special powers.”
Phil smiled, “And I am one who thinks the same. I have felt the power of those coins, at least the power of the one that I had. I have never been as anxious to be rid of an item in my whole life as I was to be rid of that coin while I held it. Anyway, you know best who should be on the list. Check out anyone who seems to be showing extra lifestyle or anything else that catches your eye. Okay?”
Leonidas nodded again, “Sure. I can do that.” He hesitated, “You said held the coin, past tense. Where is it now?”
“Don’t worry. The coin is safe.”
Leonidas nodded, “Meno will be alright, do you think?”
Phil shrugged, “We’ll see.”
Leonidas tried a weak smile, “He better not die, he owes me ten drachma.”
Phil nodded, “I’ll come back tomorrow night and you can fill me in on the results of your research.”
Leonidas raised an eyebrow, “What are you going to do in the meantime?”
Phil shrugged again, “Some research of my own.”
-9-
Phil liked a snappy exit line as much as the next man but his actual plan was still unformed. He had a bath instead of sleep and ate a quick meal. He stopped for a few supplies and then walked back over to the Eleusinium and found the courtyard door open. He let himself into the temple precinct and, taking a quick survey, located a man-size stack of amphorae arranged casually in front of but not up against a wall. He didn’t want to risk being seen so he stopped himself from going any farther into the complex. He had just positioned himself behind the jars, when two priests walked into the courtyard from the street door.
“I can’t help thinking that this has gone too far,” one of the priests was saying as they crossed the court. “I mean how much longer can we…” The words trailed off as the men entered the temple.
Phil knew he was in for a frustrating day but he was going to make sure that, if there was anything to overhear tonight, he would be right here to hear it. So the day passed. He discovered in his boredom that the amphorae contained olive oil and in fact his only close call came when a servant came out to get a fresh jar. The sky was cloudless and blue, the air was warm and the priests were dull. He actually drifted off to sleep for a few hours and he woke feeling surprisingly refreshed. It was, taken altogether, a not unpleasant day but once darkness fell, Phil crawled out from behind his trusty pile and made his way over to the temple.
The temple building had only one door and that gave onto the front courtyard. There were a few high windows but nothing of any use to Phil for listening or seeing the nighttime goings on, so he stuck his head cautiously around the open door and, seeing no one, walked inside. The torches mounted on the walls cast a flickering light. There was an inner room beyond the temple hall and Phil could hear voices coming from within it. He knew that people would be coming and going and he needed to find a hiding place quickly. He glanced around the room and settled on a tall altar that was just outside of the inner sanctum but near the room’s corner. He knew he would be seen if anyone walked behind the altar but he was counting on the dim light and the distraction of the business at hand.
Men started to arrive about an hour later. Before then, there had only been some boys shuffling back and forth, preparing things for the evening and the voices from the inner temple audible but indistinct. The boys were the ones Phil was most afraid would notice him, being naturally curious and less distracted than the adults. But all had gone well and he was still undiscovered as the men began entering the temple. They arrived in small groups of twos and threes, talking quietly and milling around in the outer room. He wedged himself into the corner behind the altar and covered himself with a dark cloak he had brought with him. This way if anyone noticed the dark bundle they might not take it for a man. He was waiting to see if the group would remain in the outer temple area. In that case, he would remain exactly as he was, since even the smallest movement in his meager hiding place could call attention to his presence. But, and he didn’t know whether to hope for this or not, if they went into the inner room, he would have to move closer in order to hear what was going on. Phil began to regret the rashness of his plan, a little late in the day for regrets, he knew. And yet, this was probably the only place in Athens where there were answers to the questions he wanted answered. So he told himself to try to make the best of things and also to try not to get himself killed. The group seemed to be assembling in the outer room that was good from the point of view of hearing things and bad from the point of view of being discovered. At first, he could hardly even hear what they were saying, his own breathing and heartbeat were so loud.
“Listen,” some one was trying to get the crowds attention. “Listen, we can’t waste our time again tonight. Last night’s debate brought us nothing. We must recognize that we are already committed to our course. To change it now will invite disaster. This cowardice will bring us nothing. Bold action, not more debate, is what we need.” The man had spoken loudly and hoarsely, in the tone of a man who has said the same things before.
“But we do not all agree on our ‘course’,” the second voice was softer and more reasoned. “We should all be in agreement if this is to be done in our names.”
There were some noises of agreement from the assembly.
“No! It is too late. If you couldn’t agree with us you should have walked away before. Now is too late, I tell you.”
“Cleitus is right. The time for talking is through. It is too late to change our plan and too late for anyone to start changing their mind, including you, Teiresias.”
The quiet man spoke again, “No one agreed to what happened to Meno. We didn’t agree to that sort of thing.” The group of men shifted, uncomfortable and uncertain.
“Listen, what we are doing is important and casualties are inevitable. The Athenian democracy is outmoded. We need an efficient system in order to deal with the political reality of today, we need an oligarchy and we must be the ones to restore true rule to Athens. For years we suffered under Spartan domination- that was bad enough. Now that they lie in defeat, scrambling to keep what they have, Athens needs to be strong; to be able to act quickly, to make new alliances or break them as the need arises. The democracy is too slow and full of competing interests to fill that function.”
The quiet man spoke again, “Cleitus, you know that argument is garbage. Athens was a democracy in the days of her greatest power. Democracy never made Athens weak, it keeps her strong and alive.”
“You are a naive driveller, Teiresias. We are all tried of your platitudes. They bring nothing to the state, nothing to the power of Athens.” The fanatic voice rose with conviction.
Teiresias interrupted again, “There are many people here who feel as I do, that it is wrong to take the life of a good man for your convenience. In the end it will bring you nothing good.”
“You fool. This is not for me but for Athens. What makes my city stronger is good for every citizen.”
The man called Cleitus whom Phil was calling the fanatic said, “You’re trying to turn this into a debate again. That isn’t why we called this meeting. It is a meeting of strategy. Everyone here is already a conspirator in the plan to bring oligarchy back to power in Athens. To accomplish our goals will no doubt require some unpleasantness but it is what we have set out to do and we shall do it. It is past time for objecting to methods and crying philosophy. Our plan is already in action and we need every man behind us.” There was cheering in the room. The battle seemed won. The crowd was with Cleitus, as they must have been from the start for the conspiracy to reach this point.
Phil understood some things better now but he was still puzzled about some of the details. He could see why the conspirators would have to attack Meno since he could never be convinced to go along with their plan and he was a nosy old busy body and nothing got past him. He also understood why the coins had been appropriated. It was a handy source of wealth, much easier than selling land or property. The conspirators would need the coins for bribes and later they would need them to hire mercenaries to fight in the city once their plan was sprung and the democratic resistance mounted.
What he was still missing were the specifics, why Critias had been killed and how Glaucon was involved but he figured he had the main outline, he could fill in the details later. He was going on through his mental rundown when he noticed that it had very gotten quiet in the hall. Not the kind of quiet that comes from an empty room but the kind of quiet when a full room falls suddenly silent. It was about then that his cloak was pulled away and, as his eyes adjusted to the half-light, he saw the staring faces of the men who had been plotting to overthrow the Athenian government. They were gathered around him in a cluster, menacing in a way and yet they were not moving toward him. Apparently, before they had made their move toward him the group had called in some of the sturdier slaves to lend a hand. These were told to grab him and two of them dragged him to his feet and, each man taking an arm they led him away.
The conspirators remained eerily silent while Phil was taken inside the inner temple room. The guards tied his hands behind his back, searched him and found the small knife he had hidden, and then left him alone. He had not been knocked unconscious at least and lately that counted as a bright side. In fact, besides the basics of search and carry, he hadn’t been touched, which surprised him a little given the track record of the men involved. He wondered if the cult leaders were squeamish about violence within the temple precinct. It seemed odd that they should have scruples about such small details when they were plotting to overthrow the government of their city. They were taking big chances and if they failed their lives would certainly be forfeit. It was probably just inconvenient for them to kill him right then and they were just wrapping up a few points of business before coming back for him, to take him out and finish him off.
That was what he thought at first anyway. But hours passed and no one came. He couldn’t hear anything from inside the thick walls of the inner temple. There was a high window that let in fresh air and eventually the watery light of early morning but he heard no voices or sounds from outside. As the morning passed he half expected someone to bring him something to eat, or some water, or just come by to chat but still no one came. He began to think that that was how they would solve their problem. Just leave him alone in the small room for long enough and all their difficulties would be resolved.
Initially, he had hoped that he could find some way to let himself out. He had walked carefully around the perimeter checking for hidden doorways by tapping the walls and listening for hollow spots. Next, he tried the floors, knowing how handy trap doors could be and hoping the temple architects had felt the same way. Unfortunately, they had not. So there was the locked door and the high window, period. His next step had been to look for some kind of weapon among the ritual items that were strewn throughout the small room. Almost anything can be used as a weapon if you’re in the right frame of mind. He found several small articles that could be used at close range on one or two men but nothing to work on a mob, not that he had really expected anything like that. More interesting though, he found a chest of records. As he opened the scrolls he found they contained the names of the original conspirators and the names of the cult members they had suborned, all noted down in fine clear writing. The documents included the amounts of money that had been needed to persuade each individual about the rightness of the cause and the dates that the transactions had taken place. Phil would never understand why people involved in conspiracies always kept such detailed records and yet they seemed to do so almost compulsively.
He hid the most damning scrolls securely inside his tunic and then he stowed his makeshift weapons about his person, trying to locate them efficiently. He was just about finished when the door creaked open. Two armed guards came in followed by two priests. The guards were both large men whose faces were professionally empty. Their blank faces made them seem to resemble each other more than they really did. They each had a long spear and they moved together into the room. The spears were pointed at his chest, pressed forward just enough to let Phil feel the sharpness of the tips.
The two priests had more character. The first man Phil had seen in the outer temple. He was extremely gaunt and his face was lined like the mask of an actor made up to play an old man in a tragedy. The other was an athletic looking man whose handsome face was alert but also troubled. The two men stared at him speculatively for a while and then the thin man spoke to the other.
“There he is you see, as I said.” When the first man spoke Phil recognized him as the leader and most rabid speaker of last night’s assembly, the one called Cleitus. The other man looked him over and nodded slightly. He seemed familiar but Phil couldn’t place him. Standing beside Cleitus, he seemed tall and young but Phil realized that was relative. Looking closely, he realized that the man was probably a little older than Phil himself and maybe just over average height.
After a few minutes the younger man looked away. He seemed distracted, gazing at something in the middle distance, rubbing his chin, like a student working on a difficult problem in school.
He shook his head and looked at Cleitus, “So what are you planning to do with him?”
Cleitus snorted, “Kill him, of course. That has always been the plan.”
Figures, Phil thought, my first visitors all day and all they can talk about is killing me.
The other man, the one Phil recognized but couldn’t place, spoke, “Is that wise, do you think?” Phil was starting to like the second man more every minute.
“It doesn’t concern you. I only allowed you to see him as a courtesy. Everything will be fine. Don’t worry about it. You wanted to see him for yourself and now you have.” This seemed to settle things as far as Cleitus was concerned and he moved toward the door. The tall man stood looking at Phil for a few more moments and then turned to go. No one had addressed him or acknowledged him in any way.
He was thirsty and bored and irritable. “Hey,” he shouted and the tall man turned, “Why don’t you stay and talk for a while. I can be a good listener and I have some free time just now.” A half smile drifted ever so briefly across the man’s face before he turned again to leave the room. The two guards who, to show they were being vigilant, had pressed their spears more vigorously against Phil’s ribs during his outburst, now backed slowly out of the room.
And that was it. Not much of a visit, from Phil’s point of view. He wished he could remember who that man was. It was probably important. Well, it seemed he would have plenty of time to reflect on that and other interesting trivia while he was waiting for them to come back and kill him. He took a
nother look around the room and again came to the conclusion that the only way out was through the door. The guards hadn’t risked visits for luxuries like food or water and they seemed unlikely to do so in the future. He had tried to call the guards early on. First he had pretended to have some important information and then later he tried pretending to be sick. These gambits had had no result at all. If anyone was listening, which Phil was beginning to doubt, they had been given instructions not to approach him under any circumstances. One thing he could do was to put himself in a better position in case the men came back. He made a man shaped pile out of his cloak against the wall at the back of the room. It wouldn’t pass a close inspection but Phil hoped he would only need a minute. He picked up a stout, marble phallus, apparently a ritual item that he had found with the other things. It was a perfect size and shape for his purpose. He moved over to the left of the door and stood waiting. He waited standing because he wasn’t sure how much time he would have between hearing someone and their coming in, but he didn’t want to tire himself out so he rested his back against the cold stone.
Time passed, maybe hours, he couldn’t say. Then he heard the sound of the lock being thrown. The door swung open and the same two guards walked in. He let them take two steps into the room before he stepped up behind them. He hit the first one on the back of the head and kicked the knees out from the second, catching him on the head with his improvised club as he went down. It was neat work. Phil checked that they were both down but he didn’t look long. His idea was to grab some, hopefully, ineffectual priest and make his escape using the hostage and the element of surprise. He moved forward and seized the first man who came to hand. It was the shrill leader, Cleitus and when Phil took hold of him, his body felt so brittle that Phil was afraid he would snap in two. With his hostage in tow he burst through the door and into the outer temple. He took one look and quickly stepped back inside, dragging his hostage with him. He pushed the man roughly back into the inner chamber and shut and bolted the door.