Callias: A Tale of the Fall of Athens

by Alfred John Church

  CHAPTER XIX.

  THE END OF ALCIBIADES.

  Three days after the events recorded in the last chapter--it took somuch time for the young man to screw up his courage to thepoint--Callias made his way to the ship-yard of Hippocles at an hourwhen he knew that he would be pretty certain to find the master there.He was not disappointed, nor could he help being touched by the warmsympathy with which he was received.

  "Ah! my dear friend," cried the merchant, "this has been a greatdisappointment to me. I must own that I had my fears. I know something,you see, of my daughter's temper. I knew that she had always chafedunder our disabilities. Things that have ceased to trouble me--and Imust own that they never troubled me much--are grievous to her. You seethat I have a power of my own which is quite enough to satisfy anyreasonable man. I can't speak or vote in your assembly, but I have avoice, if I choose to use it, in your policy. She knows very littleabout this, and would not appreciate it if she did. Besides it would notavail her. No; she feels herself an inferior here, and it galls her; yetthat is scarcely the way to put it, for she was thinking much more ofyou than of herself. I believe that she loves you--she has not confidedin me, you must understand, but I guess as much--and she would soonercut off her right hand than injure you or yours. And then her pridecomes in also. 'Am I, daughter of kings as I am,' she says to herself,'am I to be one to bring humiliation into an ancient house?' Hermother's forefathers would be called barbarians here, but they werekings and heroes for all that. And that is the bitterness of it to her:to feel herself your equal in birth, and yet to know that to marry youwould be to drag you down."

  "I understand," said Callias, "it is noble; but just now my heart rebelsvery loudly against it. Let us say no more. I have come to ask you whatyou would advise. For the present I cannot stay at Athens."

  "That," said Hippocles, "is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about;if you had not come to-day I should have sought for you. You wish toleave Athens, you say. It is well, for it would not be safe for you tostay. We shall have a bad time in Athens for the next few months,perhaps for longer. The exiles have come back full of rage and thirstingfor revenge. And then there is Theramenes; he is the man you have tofear. He has the murder of the generals on his soul. That, perhaps,would not trouble him much but he fears all who might be disposed tocall him to account for it. He knows that you were the kinsman and dearfriend of Diomedon, and he will take the first opportunity that mayoccur of doing you a mischief. And opportunities will not be wanting. Isuspect that for some time to come, with the Oligarchs in power and theLacedaemonians to back them up, laws and constitutional forms will notgo for much in Athens."

  "And you advise me to go?" said Callias.

  "Certainly there is nothing to keep you. For the present there is nocareer for you here. I don't despair of Athens; but for some time tocome she will have a very humble part to play."

  "Have you anything to suggest?"

  "I have been thinking over it for two or three days. Many things haveoccurred to me, but nothing so good as was suggested by a letter which Ireceived this morning. It came from a merchant in Rhodes with whom Ihave had dealings for some years past. My correspondent asks for a largeadvance in money for a commercial speculation which he says promiseslarge profits. I have always found the man honest; in fact the outcomesof my dealings with him in the past have been quite satisfactory. Butthis new venture that he proposes is a very large one indeed. I likewhat he tells me of it. It opens up quite a new field of enterprise; andnew fields, I need hardly tell you, have a great charm for a man in myposition. The ordinary routine of commerce does not interest me verymuch; but something new is very attractive. Now I want you to go toRhodes for me. Make all the enquiries you can about the character andstanding of my correspondent, whom, curiously enough, I have never seen.I will give you introductions to those who will put you in the way ofhearing all that is to be heard. If the man's credit is shaky at all,then I shall know that this proposition of his is a desperate venture.If all is sound, I shall feel pretty sure that he has got hold of areally good thing."

  "I know very little of such matters," said the young Callias after apause.

  "I do not ask you to go that you may judge of this particularenterprise; I simply want you to find out what people are saying aboutDiagoras--that is my correspondent's name; you will be simply anAthenian gentleman on his travels. Keep your ears open and you will besure to hear something."

  "Well," said Callias, "I will do my best; but don't expect too much."

  "Can you start to-morrow?"

  "Yes, if you think it necessary."

  "Well, my affair is not urgent for some days, at least. But foryourself, I fancy you cannot get out of the way too soon. I don't thinkthat Theramenes and his friends will stick much at forms and ceremonies.I own that I shall feel much happier when there are two or three hundredmiles of sea between you and them. Be here an hour after sunsetto-morrow. By that time I shall have arranged for your passage and gotready your letters of introduction and the rest of it."

  "Well," said the young man to himself as he went to make hispreparations for departure, "this, it must be confessed, is a littlehard on me. Hermione says, 'Stop in Athens and stick to your career';her father says, 'If you stop in Athens you are as good as a dead man,and your career will be cut short by the hemlock cup.' I have to give upmy love for my career and then give up my career for my life."

  It is needless to relate the incidents of my hero's voyage to Rhodes orof his stay on that island. His special mission he was able toaccomplish easily enough. Diagoras' speculation was, as he soon foundout, the last resource of an embarrassed man; and the loan for which heasked would be a risk too great for any prudent person to undertake. Theletter in which he communicated what he had heard to Hippocles wascrossed by one from Athens. From this he learned that the politicalanticipations of the merchant had been more than fulfilled. Theoligarchical revolution had been carried on with the most outrageousviolence. On the very day on which he had left Athens, an officer of thegovernment had come with an order for his arrest.

  All this was interesting; still more so was a brief communication fromAlcibiades which the merchant enclosed. It ran thus:

  "Alcibiades to Callias son of Hipponicus, greeting. Great things arepossible now to the bold of whom I know you to be one. More I do notsay, but come to me as soon as you can. Farewell."

  The merchant had added a postscript. "I leave this for yourconsideration. Alcibiades has a certain knack of success. But the riskwill be great."

  "What is risk to me?" said Callias, "I can't spend my life idling here."

  The next day he left the island, taking his passage in a merchant shipwhich, by great good luck was just starting for Smyrna. Smyrna wasreached without any mishap. Four days afterwards, he started with aguide for the little village in Phrygia from which Alcibiades had datedhis note. Halting at noon on the first day's journey to rest theirhorses, they were accosted by a miserable looking wayfarer, who beggedfor some scraps of food, declaring that he had not broken his fast forfour and twenty hours. Something in the man's voice and face struckCallias as familiar, and he puzzled in vain for a solution of themystery, while the stranger sat eagerly devouring the meal with which hehad been furnished.

  "Here," said Callias, when the man had finished his repast and wasthanking him, "here is something to help you along till you can findfriends or employment." And he gave him four or five silver pieces.

  It was the first time he had spoken in the fugitive's hearing, and theman, who, now that his ravenous hunger was appeased, had leisure tonotice other things, started at the sound of his voice. He, on his part,seemed to recognize something.

  "Many thanks, sir," he said; "the gods pay you back ten-fold. Butsurely," he went on, "I have seen you before. Ah! now I remember. Youare Callias the son of Hipponicus, and you were my master's guest inThrace."

  A light flashed on the young Athenian's mind. The man had been one ofAlcibiades' attendants in his Thracian castle.


  "Ah! I remember," he cried, "and your master was Alcibiades. But what doyou here? How does he fare?"

  The man burst into tears. "Ah, sir, he is dead, cruelly killed by thosevillains of Spartans. He was the very best of masters. I never had arough word from him. We all loved him."

  "Tell me," said Callias, "how it happened. I was on my way to him," andhe read to the man the brief note that had been forwarded to him atRhodes.

  "Yes, I understand. I know when that was written. He had great hopes ofbeing able to do something. I did not rightly understand what it was,but the common talk among us who were of his household was that he wasgoing to the Great King to persuade him that the best thing that hecould do would be to set Athens on her feet again to help him againstSparta. Oh! he was a wonderful man to persuade, was my master. Nobodycould help being taken by him."

  "But tell me the story," said the young man.

  "Well, it happened in this way. My master had gone up to seePharnabazus, the Satrap, who had promised to aid him on his way up toSusa to see the Great King. There were six of us with him; hissecretary, myself and four slaves. There was Timandra, also, whom heused to call his wife; but his real wife was an Athenian lady,Hipparete, I have heard say."

  "Yes," interrupted Callias, "I knew her; a cousin of my own; a mostunhappy marriage. But go on."

  "Well, Pharnabazus received him most hospitably. There was no good housein the village, so we had three cottages. Alcibiades had one; thesecretary and I another, and the slaves, a third. Every day the satrapsent a handsome supply of provisions for us; dishes and wine from hisown table for my master, and for us all that we could want forourselves. I never fared better in my life. And my master had long talkswith him and seemed in excellent spirits. Everything was going on aswell as possible. Then there came a change. I never could find outwhether my master had heard anything to make him suspicious. If he had,he certainly told the secretary nothing about it. But he was very muchdepressed. First he sent Timandra away. She was very unwilling to go,poor lady, for she did love my master very much, though, as I say, shewas not really his wife. But my master insisted on it, so she went awayto stay with some friends. After that his spirits grew worse and worse.He used to tell his secretary the dreams he had. Once he dreamt he wasdressed in Timandra's clothes, and that she was putting rouge and powderon his face. At another time he seemed to see himself laid on a funeralpyre and the people standing round ready to set it on fire. The verynight after he had that dream we were awakened by a tremendous uproar;the secretary and I got up and looked out. The master's cottage, whichwas about a stadium[58] away from ours was on fire, and there were anumber of Persians, about fifty or sixty, standing round it, shoutingout and cursing him. The next moment we saw the door of the cottageopen, and the master ran out with a cloak round his head, to keephimself from being choked by the smoke, and with a sword in his hand. Assoon as he was clear of the burning cottage he threw down the cloak andrushed straight at the nearest Persian. The man turned and ran. Therewas not one of them that dared stand for a moment. But they shot at himwith arrows. They had fastened the gates of the enclosure in which thecottages stood, you must understand, so that he could not escape. Infact he was climbing over one of them when he was killed."

  "And you; what did you do?"

  "Ah! sir," cried the man, "we were helpless, we had not a sword betweenus. We hid ourselves, and the next morning took our master's body andcarried it to Timandra. She made a great funeral, spending upon it, poorthing, nearly every drachma she had. When we had seen the last of mydear master, the secretary said that he had friends at Tarsus, and setout to go there. I thought that I had best make my way to Smyrna. Thanksto your goodness, I shall now be able to get there, but I was verynearly dying of starvation. But what, if I may ask, are you thinking ofdoing?"

  "That I can't tell," replied the Athenian; "as I told you, I was on myway to Alcibiades."

  "Well, sir, I can tell you this," rejoined the stranger, "no friends ofmy master's will be safe here. Pharnabazus, I feel sure, had no greatlove for him, notwithstanding all his politeness; as for the Spartans,they hated him; and I did hear that the people who are now in power atAthens had sent to say that peace could not last unless he were put outof the way. Yes, sir, if anyone recognizes that you are my master'sfriend, you are a dead man."

  "Why," said Callias, "I have made no secret of it. In Smyrna I spokeabout him to the people with whom I was staying. No one said a wordagainst him."

  "Very likely not," replied the man, "for they thought that he was alive,and no one liked to have my master for an enemy. He had a wonderful wayof making friends to have the upper hand and contriving that hisadversaries should have the worst of it. But now that he is dead youwill find things very different."

  "What is to be done?" asked the young Athenian.

  "Can you trust your guide?"

  "I know nothing of the man. I simply hired him because I was told thathe was a fairly honest fellow, knew the country very well, and would notrun away if a robber made his appearance."

  "Well, then get rid of him."

  "But how?"

  "Tell him that you have a headache, and that you will come on after himwhen you have rested a little and the sun is not so hot, and that he hadbetter go on, get quarters at the next stage and have everything readyfor you when you shall arrive. As soon as he is gone, get back as fastas you can to Smyrna. The news will hardly have reached that place yet,indeed we may be sure that it has not, or you would have heard of itbefore you started. Go down to the docks, and take your passage in anyship that you can find ready to start. Even if it is going to Athensnever mind; you will be able to leave it on the way. Anyhow, get out ofAsia at any risk."

  "And you?"

  "Oh, no one will care about me. I am a very insignificant person. But,as a matter of fact, I shall try to get to Syracuse. I was born there."

  "Syracuse will do as well for me as any other place. Why not come withme if it can be managed? I was able to do you a little service, and youhave done me a great one. Let us go together."

  The plan was carried out with the greatest success. Callias made thebest of his way to Smyrna, and left his horse at an inn, not, ofcourse, the one from which he had started. As he had plenty of money forimmediate wants, besides letters of credit from Hippocles, he thought itsafer not to attempt to sell the animal. He then provided himself withdifferent clothes, purchasing at the same time a suit for his newacquaintance. These he ordered to be sent to a small house ofentertainment near the docks which they had arranged should be the placeof meeting. Shortly before sunset the man appeared. Meanwhile Calliashad arranged for a passage for himself and his servant in a ship boundfor Corinth. They would not venture into Corinth itself, but wouldtransfer themselves at the port of Cenchreae into some ship bound forSicily.

  Before the morning of the next day the two were on their way westward.Everything went well. At Cenchreae they found a Syracusan merchantmanjust about to start, shipped on board her and after a prosperous voyagefound themselves in the chief city of Sicily.

  FOOTNOTES:

  [58] A stadium was nearly a furlong; to be exact, 202 yards.