At Marathon this one city had defeated the army of the Great King. Once Athens had ruled the islands, and fought not unequally against the united Peloponnese. In this year, the thirty-fourth since the death of Alexander, Athens prospered because a Delphic festival had been transferred to her territory; her only bulwark against the barbarians of Epirus was an army of mercenaries commanded by a Macedonian. They should have put wings on their Victory; perhaps then she might revisit them more often.
In the market-place he was greeted with enthusiastic cheers. All the reminders of his earlier triumphs had been refurbished; the chariot was backed so that he might alight exactly by the altar of the Descending Demetrius; his temples shone in clean plaster; well-fed priests stood before them. Phaedrus and the other leaders who welcomed him were decent well-mannered gentlemen, not demagogues. Of course, his supporters now were the oligarchs, the beautiful and good; exiled Athenian demagogues hung about the court of Lysimachus.
Hallo, this would never do. Demeter-Lanassa had reached the market-place and no one had a word of welcome for her; they were all too busy crowding round the Saviour God. He beckoned to Phaedrus. ‘Hey, you, Demeter is more important than her consort. If you want the corn to grow properly this summer you must be polite to her. Give her a speech of welcome. When that’s over we shall want to get away somewhere private, so that we can change into ordinary human dress before we open the Games. Where do we lodge on this visit?’
Phaedrus frowned. ‘Dash it, Saviour God, I shall have to recast the speech I had composed so carefully. We have a fine house all ready for you by the town hall, though of course you may lodge in the Parthenon if you prefer it’.
Demetrius smiled as he watched the politician bustle away. He still gave orders in this town, for all that in the course of eighteen years his divinity had lost much of its bloom. He would not insist on the Parthenon, since Phaedrus wished to put him in a private house.
Presently the speech as finished and Demeter alighted from her chariot. With the abrupt return to informality which was typical of Athenian functions he and his consort were free to walk across the market-place to their house, attended only by a couple of guards.
Lanassa turned to him eagerly. ‘Thank you for bringing me. Athens is even more lovely than I had expected. That golden marble under the golden light! On the rock up there I see buildings fit to be palaces for the gods. I should like to live here for the rest of my life.’
‘Wait until you climb the Acropolis. When you are close, the Parthenon looks even better. If you like we can live in it. Once before I used it as my lodging. But this time I think they would rather we stayed elsewhere.’
‘I don’t want to live in it. No one pretends I am a goddess. At the moment I feel very human, hot and thirsty and longing to get out of these robes. I shall have a bath straight away, before we open the Games.’
The house where they lodged had no bath. It belonged to an old-fashioned oligarch who frequented the public baths because he was not ashamed to show his body, and who thought cold water adequate to keep his wife clean. So servants poured hot water over Lanassa as she stood naked in a marble tub, while Demetrius lounged in a chair and continued the conversation.
Lanassa had a good figure, slim and firmly muscled; the sons of Pheidias, if the firm was still in business, could carve her as Artemis or a hunting nymph. While she stood still she did not look gawky. But Demetrius had seen her often enough during the winter; he was not tempted to prolong his stay in Athens just to be with her. He would open the Games and then get back to Macedonia. At long last he was very nearly ready for the campaign which would conquer the civilised world.
‘I hope they don’t want me to be Demeter all the time I am here,’ she said, wiping olive-oil from her neck. ‘I want to get about and see the sights by myself, without a crowd of priests attending me. I would like to meet some private Athenians, too, and especially some of those famous Athenian hetairae,’
‘If you stick close to me you will meet plenty of hetairae. They hover round me until I have to brush them off like flies,’ Demetrius answered lazily. ‘That’s not because of my manly beauty, of course. Long ago I was pretty generous to one particular hetaira, and each of them hopes to reign as a second Lamia.’
‘Wait until I have gone before you choose my successor,’ Lanassa said sharply. ‘I should look foolish if you brought me here to be your goddess and then deserted me. Don’t, if you want to keep Corcyra,’
‘Never talk business on a holiday, my girl,’ said Demetrius. ‘We are both rulers, perhaps we are both gods. But this is the opening day of the Pythian Games, when everyone enjoys himself. Just one more solemn sacrifice, and a graceful little speech down at the stadium. Then we kick up our heels without a care in the world until dawn tomorrow. To set your mind at rest I’ll tell you now that I’m not looking for another mistress. While I am here Athens is the only mistress I need. The perfect city for Games, and for fun too. Athens now is as pleasant as it was in the days of Alcibiades, except for one thing - poverty. And I have a plan to put that right,’
‘I’m glad to hear it. What’s the plan?’
‘It has just come to me, as I sit here. I shall make Athens the capital of my new Empire. Demetrius is a fine town, with broad streets and strong walls and good drains. A fine town but dull, just the setting for my dear Queen Phila. Nothing that happens there can shock her sensibilities. I shall persuade her to stay in Demetrius while I reign gloriously in Athens. From all over the world suitors will come to me with petitions, and the bribes they give for admission to my audience chamber will make every Athenian rich. The great days of Pericles will come again. How do you think it would be if I were to prohibit slavery within the walls? Make the citizens hire free men to be their servants? Surely a city without slaves would be a very happy place? So often a mood of content is spoiled when you hear a slave sobbing at the back of the house. There’s another idea that’s just come to me. Do you think it a good one?’
Lanassa glared at the maid drying her, whose face had composed itself into an expressionless blank. ‘One peep out of you, girl, and you’ll sob for a month,’ she muttered. She continued aloud:
‘It’s a silly idea - even from you - even on the spur of the moment. A domestic servant has an easier life than a field- hand. In my household at least they never complain. If they don’t look cheerful I give them something to be sorry about. But you can’t hire a free Hellene to wait on another free Hellene; his self-respect is not for sale. Your ideal Athens would be full of discontented grumblers building their own fires and scouring their own cooking pots.’
‘Odd, I got the same answer long ago from an old philosopher. Unless I am the only wise man in the world there can’t be anything wrong in slavery. Old Stilpon - that was at Megara, before ever I had brought freedom to Athens. I suppose it’s because I am here again that my first campaign in Hellas seems like yesterday.’
‘Ever since I was in the nursery I have heard of the great Demetrius, and his wars to restore the undivided Empire of Alexander. Are you any nearer to it now than you were twenty years ago?’ The long hot ceremony had made Lanassa cross and snappish.
‘I’m just on the brink, my dear. I may have said that before, but this time it’s true. In all my campaigns I have followed the same plan, beginning again right at the beginning after things went wrong. First I subdue the recruiting ground, Hellas and Macedonia. Then I march east, and the other kings with their barbarian armies haven’t a chance against me. That’s what Alexander did, and though I’m not Alexander I can do it too. I am king of Macedonia. From Thessaly to Sparta Hellas obeys me. At this moment Asia is full of first-class Hellene mercenaries, but my rivals can recruit no more of them. This is positively my last appearance as the Saviour God. Next time I come to Athens I shall be received as King of Kings, Lord of the World. I shall come with my spoil and my captives to fix my capital here, to make Athens the richest and happiest city in the world.’
‘I am sure it wil
l all be most enjoyable. But this is the opening day of the Pythian Games, and it’s time we got dressed and went off to open them.’ Lanassa was still out of temper, annoyed that Demetrius talked of conquest while she preened herself naked before him.
On the evening of the second day of the Games Demetrius dined privately with Phaedrus, for a serious discussion of the state of Athens. The politician was in good spirits.
‘The Games are going very well,’ he began. ‘We have more competitors, coming from more important cities, than Pyrrhus can muster in Delphi. The only trouble is that Delphi keeps the records, so the Pythian Games of Athens won’t be officially registered until you deal with Pyrrhus before you cross into Asia?’
‘Perhaps, though I may leave him until later,’ Demetrius answered casually. ‘Pyrrhus is a very good soldier at the head of a very good army. His weakness is lack of money. Without subsidies from Ptolemy he couldn’t keep going. When the supply dries up after I have conquered Egypt Pyrrhus will dwindle away. Epirus itself doesn’t matter. Whoever heard of the barbarous place before Pyrrhus ruled it? Tomorrow he may be killed in a skirmish. But every Athenian I meet talks about Pyrrhus all the time. Are you afraid of him? Can’t Athens defend herself against a petty barbarian war-chief?’
‘We cannot defend ourselves, and so we fear Pyrrhus.’ Phaedrus shook his head sadly. ‘I’m on your side, Poliorcetes, as you know. But if Pyrrhus encamps before our walls the Assembly will submit to him. We stood a siege not long ago, as you may remember. No Athenian who lived through it will ever again bar the gates and man the wall.’
‘I was as gentle as I could be. No battering, no assault, and as soon as you opened your gates I brought in corn. You suffered only because Lachares was obstinate.’
‘I am not blaming you. I am just explaining how we feel. The Athenians have lost their valour. Our young heroes were killed during the Four Years’ War against Cassander, after your first liberation of the city. The stolid rank and file died during your last siege, Poliorcetes. We have given up trying. We shall yield to any army that threatens us. It’s the end of an old song, Poliorcetes, a song that was already ancient when our forefathers raised the paean at Marathon. But it is the end. Except perhaps for Sparta, the other cities have gone the same way. Thebes, Argos, Corinth, they will never fight again. Since old King Philip came down on us the wars have never ceased, war for more than fifty years. It has been too much for Hellas, Poliorcetes.’
That surname, thrice repeated, beat on Demetrius like the stroke of a battering-ram. Phaedrus was a skilled orator.
‘The wars began before I was born. I didn’t start them. On the contrary, I am about to end them. I shall bring the whole civilised world into one kingdom.’
‘I wish you success, Saviour God. But Alexander united the world, and that was the beginning of many wars.’
‘Very well. I am glad I have a strong garrison in your Acropolis. Do you know the meaning of what you say? Never again will Athens be free. Since you won’t fight for freedom you must obey soldiers who fight for pay. Today they are my soldiers, decent Hellene mercenaries. Tomorrow they may be barbarians from anywhere, from Asia, from the Danube, even from Italy.’
‘I know. It’s a heavy price. But we buy something with it. In Athens henceforth sons will bury their fathers, fathers will not bury their sons. Our temples will stand unharmed, philosophers will debate in our schools, our festivals will continue, at Eleusis we shall receive consolation and comfort.’
‘Eleusis I’ve seen, and I thought it very great nonsense. They do the same kind of thing in Syria, but they do it much better. Thank you for telling me the truth about your city. I believe all you say. It’s time I got back to my army. Soon I shall leave for Macedonia.’
15. A KING AND HIS KINGDOM
Snow whirled through the streets of Demetrias, drifting in the lee of straight walls, howling along straight avenues. The city had been laid out after the new fashion, in square blocks of equal size. There was only one plan for a modern city, whether it was to stand in Bactria or Egypt or Thessaly. When he founded his capital Demetrius had forgotten the north wind.
The weather was so unpleasant that for several days he had not been out of doors. At his next birthday he would be forty-eight years old, and his health was not what it had been. Last summer, for the first time in his life, he had stayed in bed while his troops were in action; and as a result that showy brigand-hero Pyrrhus had scored some cheap victories. Now everything was nearly ready for the great campaign of conquest. It would be disastrous if it had to be postponed because the new Alexander was not well enough to take the field.
The private office was pleasantly warm. Stout shutters closed the only window, a brazier glowed, and heavy hangings masked the bare stone walls. It was so warm that he was comfortable in tunic and slippers. He sat on the edge of a cushioned couch, leaning over a sheaf of papers and tablets. A clerk handed him more papers as he called for them.
Demetrius muttered contentedly under his breath.
‘ - and another 15,000 in Corinth. That makes 98,000 foot in all - call it 100,000 as a round number. With this year’s remounts from Thessaly I shall have getting on for 12,000 horse. Total of ships built and building - say 500, and among them the biggest ships in the world. What’s this one? Estimated total of monthly wages? Whew - but never mind. By autumn the war will have paid for itself. There is more silver still in Asia than Alexander took out of it. There it is, my boy. At last everything is ready. Three months from now we cross into Asia, and by this time next year I shall be King of the World, Alexander’s successor and rival.’
The young clerk giggled, not heeding what his master said but glad that he was in a cheerful mood.
There was a knock on the barred door, an apologetic knock; for it was not entirely safe to interrupt the King when he wished to be private.
‘All right, let him in. Darius wouldn’t disturb me for a trifle. And if he has I’ll make him sorry for it.’
The Persian chamberlain halted respectfully in the doorway to make his announcement. ‘Queen Phila and Pantauchus the King’s Friend request an early audience with the King of the Macedonians.’
‘An audience, eh? When they might have spoken to me at dinner, or at any other time when I wasn’t working on my figures? That’s dashed formal, isn’t it, Darius? Right, I’ll be formal in return. Tell them to come to the council chamber in half an hour, and send in my valets with the robes of state.’
The robes of state were an innovation. Earlier Kings of Macedonia had worn armour, or during rare periods of peace the normal tunic and cloak of a gentleman. Demetrius had a free hand to design an appropriate costume. The tunic, which swept down to his feet, was of fine scarlet cloth, embroidered on the breast with the disc of the inhabited world and on the back with the sun, moon and planets. The gilded leather boots had built-up soles to increase his height. On his head was a tall cap of stiff linen, encircled by two diadems one above the other. It had been inspired by the double crown of Upper and Lower Egypt worn by old Pharaoh Ptolemy, but it was even grander. The two diadems stood for Europe and Asia. When his valets had put all these things on him Demetrius looked every inch a King; though not the elected King of a free and almost Hellenic people.
In the council chamber he took his seat on a tall throne, on its back the bronze disc of the world and for arm-rests snarling lions. After he was seated pages draped a scarlet cloak from his shoulders to cover his feet. Convenient to his right hand stood an ivory-hilted sword, the ultimate symbol of sovereignty. Ten spearmen in full armour stood rigid at attention. Directly behind him an immense negro held a fan of peacock’s feathers, lest a rare winter house-fly might bother the Great King. It was an eclectic equipment, borrowed from the ceremonial of many courts; Demetrius himself had devised it, and enjoyed the designing. With a majestic wave of the hand he murmured languidly to the captain of the guard: ‘Let the petitioners enter.’
Phila spoiled the effect, as happened far too often. As sh
e swept through the door she looked more impressive in the simple woollen gown of a Macedonian lady than did her husband in all his glory. Half a pace behind came Pantauchus, bareheaded and wearing the red undress tunic of any Macedonian officer, without badges of rank. As soon as Phila was in the council chamber she halted, stared slowly round at all the attendants, and said patiently, as though addressing a backward child: ‘I asked for a private audience.’
Sinking into a stately curtsy, she held the difficult pose until the last guardsman and servant had left the room. She then came forward briskly, stood looking down at her seated husband, and remarked without preamble: ‘Demetrius, this must stop.’
‘What must stop, my dear? Is this a palace revolution? Is that why my commander-in-chief is here? But he hasn’t brought his sword. For the overthrow of a king, swords are worn. In the army there’s only one right way of doing anything. Remember that, Pantauchus.’
Demetrius was seriously wondering whether in the next ten minutes he would be dead. Here were the two most powerful of his subjects acting in concert, and addressing him without respect. He was surprised to note that he did not feel frightened, merely curious to know what had gone wrong.
‘It isn’t a revolution. We want to prevent one. That’s why we shall give you some wholesome advice.’ Phila still looked down at him. It gave her an unfair advantage. But it would be even worse if he stood up to answer her; a throne helps a king.
‘What must stop is all this flummery,’ she went on. ‘You have been chosen King of the Macedonians, and your duties are to do justice and to lead your people in war. Instead of which you dress up like a Syrian eunuch-priest, and sit at home playing with concubines as though you were a Persian grandee. Your father was a much greater ruler than you are, and in addition he died heroically. Can you imagine him wearing that womanish embroidery, or that absurd hat?’
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