The Pericles Commission

by Gary Corby

  His manner was every bit as pedagogic as Pericles had said, and despite the sensationalism of the case I saw some dicasts beginning to drop off. Pericles leaned over to me and whispered, “He should have stopped an hour ago. Conon thinks he’s making sure of his case by hammering every single point against you in minute detail, but what he’s actually doing is boring the people whose minds he needs to keep active. Take heart. Most of the dicasts will never remember all his detail, and at least some of them will forget his main points too.”

  But the dicasts were saved from boredom by an unexpected arrival.

  I knew nothing of it until a minor commotion broke out at the back of the room. That was nothing unusual in an Athenian courtroom, but when the rumble became louder I turned to see the men standing at the entrance part, revealing a figure standing silhouetted against the bright light outside.

  Euterpe swayed into the center of the chamber. She was wearing what for her was conservative dress: a standard matron’s robe of expensive but opaque material. Nevertheless, it was firmly fitted. She had tied a broad belt around her waist so that her hips and breasts were well outlined.

  Even the judges were too stunned to protest. No one was sleeping now.

  “I am a modest woman,” she began quietly. I stifled my laughter. “I know full well it is not the place of a modest woman such as myself to soil this august chamber with the presence of a mere woman. Imagine for yourselves then the pressure I must bear, the agony in my heart that forces me to plead with the wise men of the jury. My husband is dead, gentlemen, foully murdered. Yes, I know only too well we were never husband and wife in law, and you wise men know only too well the social demands that require a man to stay with convention. But husband and wife we were in every important sense of the words. And that is why today I must do what the Gods call upon me to do, to avenge the murder of my man.”

  Euterpe suddenly tore away her dress, exposing her bare breasts to the jury. The jurors were overjoyed. They stamped their feet, cheered, and whistled. Xanthippus and the Council were aghast but shifted position for a closer look. I myself studied her attractions with great appreciation. So that’s what she’d been rubbing up and down my chest. I wondered if Diotima was similarly endowed.

  Euterpe raised her arms in supplication and gave everyone a better view. “Look upon me, men of Athens!” As one, the jury obliged. It’s a good thing they were seated, or their chitons would all have been poking out at the front.

  “Look upon me, men of Athens! I am but a poor woman deprived of her man by the hand of a perfidious murderer. I am destitute, distraught! Yes, I know what is said about me, those cruel rumors. Forget them! Think only of Ephialtes. Who can deny he loved me? He stayed with me for more than two decades in the face of malignant gossip. Ours was a true, abiding love, but we were torn asunder by foul murder. And I know that you loved Ephialtes, the man who led your democracy and was never anything but forthright and honest. Yes, you loved him too, though not, perhaps, in quite the same way as I.” Laughter filled the chamber.

  “Who was the man who did this? What creature of evil dared to take the life of the one we loved above all others? The deed was done by that man!”

  Euterpe kept her body facing the jury and pointed dramatically with her left arm. Her face turned to the man she accused, emphasizing her lovely neck; her eyes flashed with malice and beauty.

  Every head in the room turned to Conon, the Eponymous Archon. He turned bright red and spluttered. If there’d been somewhere to hide I’m sure he would have dived for cover.

  Someone in the jury shouted, “Death!” Other men took it up and the chant of “Death! Death! Death!” carried to Conon.

  Pericles leaned toward me and asked, “Did you arrange this?”

  “No! I thought you must have.”

  “Not I.” He studied her and murmured, “She’s really quite good. It’s a pity we can’t recruit her for the democratic movement. Can you imagine that performance before the Ecclesia?”

  “Order! Order I say!” Xanthippus roared across the chamber. “Guards, throw that woman out.”

  “Wait!” Lysanias turned to Xanthippus and said in a voice loud enough to reach the far wall, “The accusation has been made. We must hear the reason for it.”

  Xanthippus retorted, “We are here for the trial of Nicolaos, son of Sophroniscus, not to hear random slurs against our highest executive and, I might add, the prosecutor of this case. This is obviously a charade put up by the defense to distract our attention.”

  “Yet if she speaks true, then the young man is certainly innocent.”

  The jurors were chanting, “More! More! More!”

  Xanthippus saw that he had no choice. “Very well, woman. What is your ridiculous reason for this baseless accusation? And be quick about it, we don’t have all day. And put on your dress.”

  Euterpe held the torn material across her breast with one slender arm in such a way that a nipple poked above. She arched her back. Now she appeared as a statue of Aphrodite. Sophroniscus, who’d been enjoying the view as much as any man, pulled out charcoal and parchment and began a fast sketch.

  “Ephialtes had evidence Conon has been stealing from the state. He planned to prosecute him and the Polemarch as soon as their year in office completed. Conon murdered Ephialtes to save himself.”

  “You have no evidence for this, I presume?”

  “Indeed I do, Xanthippus.” Euterpe gestured to a slave who brought forward the parchments Diotima and I had discovered.

  Xanthippus leaned forward to take them but Lysanias was too fast; he snatched them from the slave. “I will keep these safe.” He scanned the documents quickly. “Hmm.” Lysanias looked up at Conon. “It seems we will have something to discuss at a later date.”

  Euterpe said, “Conon continued to persecute our family past the murder of my dear Ephialtes. He even ordered our beloved daughter to marry a vile, disgusting man whom Ephialtes would never have countenanced. Then he promised he would rescind his order if I slept with him. I love my daughter so much I made that sacrifice. At least, I assume I did. I don’t remember feeling much.”

  Laughter rocked the room. Conon shook his head and shouted, “You lying bitch! You moaned and groaned like a-” He stopped suddenly when he realized what he was admitting. “That is, the whole thing is a fabrication. Honorable dicasts, this woman is known to be a hetaera.”

  “I am the true widow of Ephialtes!” Euterpe shouted back.

  “Whore!”

  “Liar! And your prick is tiny.”

  Xanthippus roared, “Throw her out! This is a court of Athens, not a bawdy house!”

  Euterpe left the room amid huge cheers, clapping, and at least seven offers of marriage from lascivious jurors and one judge.

  Conon’s speech was destroyed. He tried to bring it back on track but there was little he could do in the face of heckling from the dicasts and demands to bring back Euterpe.

  In the end, he sat. He had brought out his entire case against me, and few of the dicasts would remember it.

  Xanthippus declared a break for lunch.

  Pericles said, “That was one of the more remarkable cases I’ve ever observed. Some will believe Xanthippus’ accusation that we arranged it to cast doubt on the case against you by spraying suspicion elsewhere. They will certainly vote against you. Some will forget every word Conon said and remember only those truly remarkable breasts.” We sat silent in fond remembrance ourselves.

  If the chamber had been full in the morning, it was positively packed in the afternoon. Word of Euterpe’s performance had flown across Athens and most of the male population had arrived in hopes of more.

  Xanthippus declared, “The prosecution has rested. The defense may begin.”

  I rose unsteadily to my feet. My heart was thumping and my mouth was suddenly dry. I felt one thousand and one sets of eyes upon me.

  In that instant I forgot everything Pericles had told me about how to address a crowd. Should I face the dic
asts or the judges? I’d forgotten, and it seemed terribly important to get it right. I compromised by turning to the gap between them, thus facing no one. Dear Gods, Pericles did this every day. The man must have astounding nerves and the courage of a lion.

  I have never stuttered in my life, but I stuttered now, “I–I…er, men of Ath-Athens, hon-honorable dic-dic-dicasts.” Conon was smirking. I knew the bastard thought he had this case in the bag. That made me angry. I stopped and took a deep breath. The words of my set speech came back to me, and I repeated them. “Honorable dicasts. I am Nicolaos, son of Sophroniscus, and an innocent man. I did not commit this crime.

  “I had the bad luck to be standing underneath when the body of Ephialtes fell from the very rock upon which we now sit. The shock of this terrible crime happening before my eyes led me to investigate the circumstances.” Now my throat caught, for the lies would begin, but Pericles had pounded into me that only the simplest story would wash with the dicasts. Seeing them before me now, I realized he was right. These were not men to delight in a subtle argument. They wanted their proof simple and obvious.

  “But these other deaths are all coincidence, fellow citizens, or at least nothing to do with me. I went to see Brasidas about a bow, it is true, but it was next day he was killed, when I was far away. As for these other deaths…”

  I proceeded by denying everything. Sophroniscus told me later that I sounded like a schoolboy reciting his homework, quickly and with intonations in all the wrong places. No matter, I got the words out when a moment before I had dried completely, and that was enough of a relief to me.

  “My friend Pericles will continue my argument.” This is the ritual statement that allows one man to speak for another in the courts.

  The dicasts were surprised at my announcement, and not pleasantly. A man in the jury stood and shook his fist. “You promised you would prosecute the man who killed Ephialtes, Pericles. Now I see you defending the bastard!”

  Pericles stood and walked to the section of benches that held his heckler. He remained silent for a moment, and the jury went quiet in anticipation. Pericles, without anger but with a touch of remorse, looked the heckler in the eye and said, “So I did, sir, and so I shall. I am sad to say Conon has charged the wrong man. If I am to bring the real murderer of Ephialtes to justice I must first help clear this young man, whose only crime has been to expend his utmost energies to assist the state.

  “Gentlemen of the jury, I speak to you not only as a friend of the accused, the young man Nicolaos, I speak also as the dear friend of my mentor Ephialtes, a man I admired above all others.” Pericles cast a significant glance at his father. “And I will be honest with you, it is Ephialtes I admire and esteem more than Nicolaos. Is it likely I would be defending Nicolaos if I thought he had any hand in the death of my greater friend?

  “I came upon the scene shortly after Ephialtes fell. Nicolaos was already there and I say to you, gentlemen, that there is no possible way Nicolaos could have shot Ephialtes upon the Rock, then rushed down in time for me to find him where I did. It follows as night the day that Nicolaos is the only man in Athens who certainly could not have killed Ephialtes. Keep this important point in mind, for it is the beginning and the end of our perfectly simple defense. Any man could have been upon the Rock…any man except Nicolaos. Why, I myself had more opportunity to do the deed than he.”

  Pericles paused for effect, allowing the thousand and one men of the jury to contemplate such a ridiculous notion.

  “We will now hear the testimony of Pythax, Chief of the Scythians.”

  Pythax stood and stepped forward for all the jury to see him. In accordance with judicial process he would not speak himself. He seemed nervous to me, looking about, twitching and shuffling his feet. I smiled in sympathy.

  Pythax didn’t like public speaking any more than I.

  Pericles read the witness statement of Pythax. When he finished Xanthippus completed with the formal words, “Pythax, Chief of the Scythians, are these your true words?”

  The formal response is, “This is my testimony on the case.” Instead, Pythax said, loud enough for everyone in the chamber to hear, “No, I lied.”

  Pericles dropped the parchment of testimony in shock. The jury erupted in excitement. Xanthippus shouted, “Silence! Silence in the dicasts! I remind you this is a court of homicide, not a day out at the theater.” Xanthippus stared at Pythax in dismay. “Very well, Pythax, I suppose you had better have your say.”

  “It was no accident I happened along as Nicolaos fought Aristodicus. I was ordered to follow him. I was ordered to make sure he didn’t find out too much.”

  Pericles was visibly distraught, his face white. He swallowed, and forced himself to ask the next question. “Who gave you those orders?” A hush fell upon the chamber.

  “Xanthippus.” The name rang across the court.

  The dicasts leaped from their seats, shouted, screamed, and hit one another in excitement. I had seen similar behavior at the chariot races, but nowhere else.

  I’m sure Apollo must have been with me, because divine inspiration struck in that instant. Suddenly I was sure I understood everything, and if I was right, I could confirm it all with one question that was burning in my mind. I shouted, “Pythax, was your job to stop me finding out about Themistocles and the Council?” The jury didn’t hear me in their furor, and nor did Pythax, but the judges did. Xanthippus gave me a long stare and Demotion appeared startled. Lysanias kept a studiously blank face. Demotion turned and said something to the Council members behind. They stirred and talked among themselves.

  Xanthippus himself was shouting to have the chamber silenced, but without success. There was nothing for it but to wait for the excitement to die down. When it did, Pericles stepped forward to the judicial bench and said, “So it was you, Father. I’ll have to ask Archestratus to prosecute you. I can’t do it myself or I might be accounted a patricide by the Gods.”

  Xanthippus looked down upon his son in horror. “Pericles, my son, I said it once before in private. Let me say it again before all those assembled. I am more proud of you than you can conceive. I would never allow harm to come to you.”

  Pericles looked away and said, “I know that, Father. That’s why it grieves me so to have to do my duty to the state.” I had observed before that Pericles was given to public displays of emotion, but even I was shocked to see a tear trickle down his cheek.

  “If you charge your father, you’ll be prosecuting the wrong man, Pericles.” Every head turned. Diotima walked into the center of the chamber, wearing her priestess robes, her head high and her manner haughty. “There’s only one trial we need hear for the murder of Ephialtes. That of Archestratus!”

  Archestratus grinned from ear to ear and called out, “I am honored to join such august company!”

  Xanthippus groaned. “Is there a queue of women outside waiting their turn? Who is she? No, on second thought, I don’t care. Throw her out!” Two Scythians took her arms and commenced to pull her back.

  Diotima shouted, “Nicolaos is innocent! We can prove Archestratus hired Aristodicus to kill my father! We can prove it! He used his son’s bank to hold the fee. Archestratus-” The Scythians dragged Diotima out of the chamber, still shouting accusations.

  Lysanias, his eyebrow raised but his expression otherwise neutral, turned to Pericles. “As my colleague and your proud father pointed out a while ago, we are here for the trial of Nicolaos. So far the prosecutor and the chief judge have been accused of the crime. They can’t all have killed him, can they? No, I thought not, so I suggest we continue with the trial at hand, and then schedule other trials until we run out of dramatic accusations or the dicasts become bored and seek other entertainment.” He glanced over at the excited jury. “I don’t think that will happen any time soon. I’ve seen them pay less attention to a play by Aeschylus.” The remainder of the Council sat behind the three judges with expressions that ranged the full gamut of emotion from stony unhappiness to grim hatr
ed. They had been reduced to this court of crime. Now even that privilege had been turned into a farce.

  Pericles had more to say but it was obvious after the excitement that no one was listening. He finished his oration early with the words, “Well, gentlemen of the jury, after all you have seen and heard today, we can all agree there is considerable disagreement over who killed Ephialtes. Was it the judge presiding over this case? Was it the prosecutor? Could it be the man standing in the audience? The only thing we can say with any assurance is that it was not the accused.”

  Pericles sat down beside me.

  Xanthippus declared, “The dicasts will proceed to vote.”

  Officers of the court brought out two large urns. One was made of wood, the other of bronze. Both were passed along the benches of the dicasts. With a thousand and one votes to count this took considerable time.

  Pericles said to me, “It’s going to be all right, Nicolaos. I doubt half the dicasts even remember your name after everything that’s happened today.”

  Pericles might have been confident but I certainly wasn’t. My life hung on the outcome of this vote!

  Each dicast placed a disk into the bronze urn as it passed by them. If he thought I was innocent, he would place a solid disk, if guilty, a disk with a hole in the center. The wooden urn was for the discards. I watched intently trying to see each disk as it went in, and to keep a mental tally. I was heartened whenever I identified a solid disk, but my guts knotted at the unmistakable sight of a holed disk going into the bronze. I looked at the face of the man who had voted for my death. He had a weathered skin, a bulbous nose, and a full dark beard and dark eyes, but I could see no evil in him. If I had passed him in the street, he would have been unremarkable. The man noticed my attention and smiled at me. I looked away.

  The bronze urn was carried to Xanthippus, and he, Lysanias and Demotion counted the disks. Before long it was obvious what the result would be.