of Heracles that you be the polemarch of the city. Polemarch and
strategos, both.’
‘What’s a strategos?’ Hilarion asked.
That was a fair question. In those days, many towns had a
polemarch, but only Athens and Sparta had strategoi. They were
officers – real officers, the way we had ofcers when we served
Miltiades. Every strategos had responsibility for a body of men
when the phalanx formed, and this made the phalanx more
flexible in combat. The old polemarchs were often politicians and
sometimes soldiers, but they formed the phalanx – that is, they
knew where each man should stand in the array. And they fought
in the place of honour – the right end of the front rank. Usualy,
they died there. But they didn’t normaly issue any orders –
beyond getting every man to the battlefield, and into his place in
the line.
On that evening, Plataea had perhaps two thousand hoplites
– armoured warriors. We’d grown in the last ten years, and the
Milesians had brought us new fighters, and we were richer. Bion
and Hermogenes, for instance – both men had been slaves, and
yet now they were prosperous farmers with ful armour. Wealth
– individual wealth – translated directly into fighting power in
– individual wealth – translated directly into fighting power in
those days. In my father’s time, we’d fielded fifteen hundred
hoplites only by freeing slaves and putting them – virtualy
unarmed – into the rear ranks.
So, our military power was greater. And Myron proposed
formalizing my control of it. I nodded. ‘Of course,’ I said.
‘This is no empty honour,’ Myron said. ‘There is a Persian
fleet on the seas. News has reached me that the Medes intend to
sack Naxos, and then they wil come to Attica. Athens wil
expect us to stand with them.’
It was stil chily in the evenings. We had a brazier in the
middle of the room, but the men were stil huddled in their
himations, and I remember that I could see my breath when I
spoke.
‘This spring?’ Bion asked.
‘This summer, at least,’ Myron answered. ‘Are we ready,
Arimnestos?’
I roled off my couch and cursed the cold floor. ‘We are as
ready as a city at peace can be,’ I answered. ‘We dance the
Pyrrhiche at least twice as often as we used to do. I take the
younger men up the mountain as often as I can – and I wil make
it more often this spring. Short of war itself, the hunt and the
dance are our best methods of training.’
Hilarion shrugged and puled his cloak over his feet. ‘Why do
we need to fight the Persians?’ he asked. ‘I know you al think
me slow-witted – but what has the Great King ever done to
me?’
‘Not a thing,’ I answered. ‘He is a good ruler and a great
‘Not a thing,’ I answered. ‘He is a good ruler and a great
man, or so I hear. But, Hilarion, when is the last time you fought
in the phalanx?’
‘You know as wel as me – the fight at the bridge, where we
helped Athens against the men of Euboea.’ He grinned. ‘I didn’t
realy fight, either. I did some pushing from the fifth rank, I think.’
‘We’ve had fifteen years of peace because Athens has stood
between us and Thebes.’ I paused to spit, and every man
present joined me.
Diocles nodded. ‘True enough,’ he said.
‘We’re about to pay for those years of peace,’ Myron said.
‘The price wil be high. And if the rest of Boeotia submits to the
Great King, we wil be alone. Our city wil be wide open when
we march away.’
Myron’s words brought the reality home to every man in the
room.
‘By Ares!’ Peneleos said. ‘Is it so bad? Is this certain?’
Myron looked at me – as I was his principal source of
information.
‘Peneleos, when there are dark clouds in the north, do you
expect rain?’ I asked.
He nodded and raised an eyebrow. ‘I expect it, but it does
not always come. Sometimes the rain goes to Thespiae or
Hisiae.’
‘Exactly,’ I agreed. ‘The Great King may never take Naxos.
He may forget Athens, or the men of Athens may make a peace
with him. A storm might come up and wreck his fleet – it’s
happened before. But the dark clouds are right there, friends,
happened before. But the dark clouds are right there, friends,
and we would be foolish not to be prepared.’
‘I plan to ask the assembly for money to repair the wals and
raise two new bastions – al stone – to cover the gate,’ Myron
said. ‘I wil ask that every free man send a slave to work, so that
the repairs are done immediately, as soon as the planting is in.
And I wil be asking for the richest men to contribute to the
towers. I wil pay for one of them myself.’ He looked around.
Bion gave me a slight nod of the head.
‘I wil pay for one third of the second tower,’ I said, ‘with the
help of Bion and Alcaeus.’
Idomeneus surprised us. ‘I wil pay for one third,’ he said.
‘From my own funds,’ he added.
Diocles and Hilarion and Draco muttered among themselves,
and Epictetus and Peneleos, sharing a couch, leaned in, and in
the end the five of them agreed to share the cost of a third of the
tower.
As the men gathered to walk home, I found myself with
Peneleos and Epictetus.
‘I have a hard time seeing myself as a leading man,’ Peneleos
said. ‘I’m a second son. I am not that old.’
I laughed. ‘You’re older than me,’ I said. ‘And I’m about to
be polemarch.’
Bion shook his head. ‘Plataea lost a generation in the three
battles,’ he said. ‘And in the fights with Thebes before that.
Think of your fathers and brothers – al dead.’
That was a sobering thought, but a true one. Myron had been
That was a sobering thought, but a true one. Myron had been
my father’s friend. My father should have been here to be
polemarch, and Diocles’ father should have been here, and
Epictetus’s father, and my brother, and Hilarion’s older brother
– on and on.
‘We’re a city of young men,’ Hilarion quipped.
‘If we have to fight the Medes, we’l be a city of widows,’
Bion answered him.
The assembly was dul enough, and I remember none of it – not
even my formal elevation to polemarch and strategos after the
feast of Heracles, thirty days after the summer solstice. I was
alowed, as polemarch, to choose the other two strategoi myself.
We’d decided to have three, one for each of the towns that
made up Plataea before the aliance with Athens turned us into a
real city.
Right away, my new rank plunged me into politics. I wanted
Idomeneus and Alcaeus – or at least Lysius – as officers. I
wanted the strategoi to be men who had been under the hand of
Ares, who knew the sound of spears and shields. But al of us –
even Lysius and Ajax – lived in one d
istrict, over by Hisiae. So I
wasted good workdays going to meetings to talk with the local
men in the other two districts. I knew them al – there were only
three thousand citizens back then, and we al knew each other
pretty wel. I kept hoping to find some retired mercenary, some
man who had served under Miltiades or even with the Medes.
Now that I think of it, in those districts closest to the river
they had most of the good farmland, and I suspect their sons
they had most of the good farmland, and I suspect their sons
didn’t need to go to sea to win a few silver coins. Ours did, over
by the mountain.
There were good young men from those districts.
Belerophon, son of Epistocles, who lived as close to Thebes as
a man could and not be a Theban, was a fine young man with ful
armour who had been to every deer hunt from the first, got
spear-fighting lessons from Lysius and also spent al his spare
hours with Idomeneus. He was from the Asopus district. But he
was seventeen years old, and no bearded man would take an
order from him.
‘Try his pater,’ Myron said, when I asked his advice. ‘He’s a
wealthy man, and a decent one. If the son’s such a good warrior,
the pater won’t be a sluggard,’ he added.
Hmm. Wel, you’l see how that worked out.
The northern district was the hardest. The men over there
were almost Thespian, and they had their own ways, and a few
of them complained that in the event of a fight, they’d march with
Thespiae and not Plataea. Before the great wars came, men
were freer with their citizenship.
But that very freedom saved me in the end. My brother-in-
law, Antigonus, owned farms in Plataea. His free men were liable
for service as psiloi or peltastai, and it occurred to me that, if
Myron would accept it, he would make a first-rate strategos.
So he was granted citizenship. In fact, Myron discovered that
his family had always been alowed to be citizens – a very
convenient discovery, let me tel you – and I appointed him as
strategos. This proved to be a fortuitous choice. Antigonus
strategos. This proved to be a fortuitous choice. Antigonus
brought us another fifty hoplites of his own – al men of Thespiae,
but people didn’t care so much then, as I say – and he had
riches which he used to improve the armour of his district, and of
course he had most of that armour made at my forge.
My forge grew that spring. Tiraeus and I shared the same
shed, of course, and Bion had, since my pater’s time, had his
own anvils and his own fire just up the hil, by his house. But
when the money came over the mountain that spring – money
from Athens, I mean, for worked bronze we’d sent in the autumn
– and when Antigonus placed a huge order for armour and
helmets, then Tiraeus wanted to build his own shed.
‘I need a pair of slaves,’ he said. ‘So do you. We do too
much of the donkey work. And we need some boys – fee boys,
who want to grow to be smiths. We could triple our output.’
I already had Styges, who had gradualy made himself into
my apprentice. But I found two more for me, and Hermogenes
found a couple for his father, and suddenly my forge was
crowded.
We put up a shed for Tiraeus, and as soon as it was done,
Empedocles came out from Thebes and blessed his fire. We had
a sacrifice and Empedocles initiated al of our new boys, slaves
and free together, because the god cares nothing for such stuff.
‘You know the Medes are coming, eh?’ he asked me. It was
easy to forget that he was a Theban, but sometimes it came
back.
‘Even in little Plataea, the news has come,’ I answered.
‘Don’t get your back up. The godless Athenians are in for it.
‘Don’t get your back up. The godless Athenians are in for it.
Thebes is safe – we’re not fools.’ He sat back and drank wine.
‘We are.’ I handed him an altar plate I’d made as my
sacrifice to the god. On the face, Cleon and I had engraved a
scene of the smith god returning to Olympus after being cast
forth, led by Dionysus.
‘When did you learn to do such fine work?’ he asked.
‘The older man you raised to the first degree?’ I said. ‘He’s
an engraver.’
Empedocles whistled. ‘You have quite an operation here,’ he
said. ‘Why not put it al in one building? Like the potters in
Corinth? You have water, charcoal, three master-smiths and an
engraver. And a reputation, at least as far away as Thebes. They
may spit when they mention you, but they’l al hurry to buy your
bronze.’
‘I have never sent a shipment of my bronze to Thebes,’ I
said.
‘Men sel it from Athens,’ he said. ‘You are quite wel known
in Thebes, my boy. Simon son of Simon keeps your name in the
ears of many men – although not to your favour. And . . .’ He
paused, drank from his cup, and looked up at me. ‘And there
are men in Thebes who plan to kil you.’
I shrugged. ‘Let them come, then.’
‘Don’t be a fool, boy. Someone – someone with a great deal
of money – has hired a whole band of cut-throats.’ He shivered.
‘If they come from Thebes to here, it would be war,’ I said.
‘I don’t think Thebes wants war with Athens.’
‘I don’t think Thebes wants war with Athens.’
Empedocles shook his head. ‘Simon is loud in proclaiming
that Athens would not care if you were kiled,’ he said.
Now it was my turn to shake my head. ‘Old news, priest. I
am the polemarch of Plataea, and my death would burn Thebes
the way a hot forge burns charcoal.’
‘They made you polemarch?’ the priest said. ‘You have
come far, my boy.’
‘I have, too,’ I agreed. ‘If you find Simon, tel him to go away
and never come back – and I, for my part, wil not hunt him
down and kil him. Let the bad blood be over. But tel your
archon – for me, and for my archon – that if men of Thebes
come here, or even hired men, coming from Thebes, then we wil
fight, and Athens wil stand with us.’
‘Not if Athens has been destroyed,’ the old priest said. ‘I’m
sorry, lad, but what they plan is to get you this summer, while
Athens can do nothing to help you. Even now, the Athenians
debate in their assembly – they debate sending Miltiades and
Aristides away as exiles, and making submission. Perhaps you
should join them in exile – just for a while.’
I told Myron everything Empedocles told me, and he dismissed it
al with a wave of his hand. ‘I’m sure Simon would like to kil
you,’ he said. ‘But Thebes is in an awkward place right now,
and they do not need a war with Athens.’
‘Empedocles makes a good point, though,’ I alowed. ‘Once
the Persians are at sea – and by al accounts, they are – Athens
can hardly send their hoplites over the passes into Boeotia to
can hardly send their hoplites over the passes into Boeotia to
&
nbsp; help us.’
‘The Thebans would be fools to trade short-term advantage
for the punishment Athens wil dish out later,’ Myron said.
‘Not if they can count on the Medes to defeat Athens,’ I
said. ‘Look, they have a workable strategy, or so it appears to
me. And I see other hands in this, Myron. If we’re tied up here –
why, then there are no hoplites to march to the aid of Athens.’
‘I think you have delusions of grandeur, young man,’ Myron
said. ‘I agree – it’s more of a threat than I saw when first I heard
of it, but this is not the way cities behave. We are not children in
the agora. I wil send a messenger to Athens, and another to
Thebes. But that wil be the end of it.’
I thought he might be right. I only knew pirates and
easterners. Here, in sober, steady Boeotia, even the Thebans
were probably better men.
‘Perhaps I should muster al our men, just so that the Thebans
can see how ready we are.’ I was hesitant to ask this, as a
general muster cost our city a little money – and the foundations
of the new towers were just going down. But the seed was in the
ground, and most farmers had a holiday – or as much holiday as
a man can get between ploughing his falow ground, shoring his
grapes and watching the pests eat his olives.
‘That is a fine idea,’ Myron said. ‘One week from today. The
Theban heralds wil be here by then.’
I don’t remember a thing about that week apart from the
glow of the forge and the rush to finish as many bits of harness
and armour as I could manage. I had thirty repairs sitting around
and armour as I could manage. I had thirty repairs sitting around
my house – helmets, breastplates, spearheads. I worked night
and day, and so did Tiraeus and Bion. And across the stream, in
the city, my compatriot, Heron the Smith, worked iron and steel
as fast as I worked bronze.
But the muster was glorious. I could remember what our men
looked like when we went off to Oinoe to help Athens – dun
cloaks, no swords, men without shields hiding in the rear ranks,
and only a dozen men in ful bronze.
Now we had a front rank of almost one hundred and twenty-
five men, and every one of them had a bronze panoply – breast-
and backplate or scale armour, or at least a leather spolas, and
an aspis – a few old men with Boeotian shields – greaves on
every man, and good helmets, most crested Corinthians. I was
Marathon Page 40