Achilles His Armour

by Peter Green

  ‘Well, that’s that,’ he observed briefly. ‘What next?’

  Thrasybulus said: ‘Winter’s coining on. We won’t see much more fighting till the spring. What we need at the moment are money and reinforcements.’

  Alcibiades told him briefly of the arrangements he had made in Caria, and Thrasybulus nodded in approval. ‘I sympathise with the men of Halicarnassus,’ he said, grinning; ‘but two hundred talents are going to be very useful. It’s a system I think might well be extended.’

  ‘One thing’s clear,’ said Thrasyllus, suddenly emerging from his silence: ‘We can never really establish ourselves till the democracy’s restored fully at Athens. At the moment we’ve got one government in the City and another here with the fleet. We even elect our own generals. After this victory we’ve got something to persuade the people with—’

  ‘Yes,’ said Alcibiades, in such a strangely vehement voice that they both looked at him, startled: ‘yes: but is it enough? How much do these men want?’

  ‘I suspect,’ said Thrasyllus, ‘that our gallant colleague is more interested in his own re-establishment than the affairs of his country . . . But I think that one of us at least should sail home at once. With the victory still fresh in their minds, Theramenes and his supporters might be more inclined to be reasonable. And if they’re not, an appeal to the people . . .’ His voice trailed away suggestively.

  ‘Excellent,’ said Thrasybulus. ‘If I might suggest it, there’s more than that which might be done at Athens, providing all goes well. It’s no use looking for money there; but we’re badly in need of men—and new ships. Mine have been afloat for eighteen months. And I hear the Piraeus has been importing timber from Macedonia.’

  ‘That seems to divide our responsibilities fairly evenly, doesn’t it?’ Thrasyllus observed. ‘One of us to collect tribute; another to go to Athens; the third to remain here and guard the straits.’

  Alcibiades said: ‘I’m not sure if this is a wise plan. But supposing you’re right, and the Spartans don’t attack. again. Who do you suggest should undertake which task?’

  There was a short silence. Then Thrasyllus said: ‘You can’t go to Athens yourself, obviously.’

  Alcibiades stared at him, and his face flushed under the blood and dirt. But he said nothing.

  Thrasybulus, feeling the heightened tension, broke in hastily. ‘Since Thrasyllus proposed the idea, I think it might be advisable for him to go to Athens—’

  ‘—if you have no objections,’ said Thrasyllus directly to Alcibiades.

  ‘I? None whatsoever.’ He seemed not to have been listening.

  ‘—and for Alcibiades,’ persisted Thrasybulus doggedly, ‘to remain here. We know his prowess as a soldier. The straits are vital to us. I don’t think they could be left in better hands.’

  It was not much of a piece of diplomacy, but it was better than nothing; and somewhat to Thrasybulus’ surprise, both his unruly colleagues agreed to it. The next morning Thrasyllus took his squadron with the morning tide, making all sail for Athens, and Thrasybulus departed in somewhat more leisurely fashion to hunt for tribute among the Islands.

  Alcibiades watched them till they passed away out of sight, gliding steadily out to sea in the morning sunlight. His left leg was aching abominably where a sword-stroke had cut into his thigh-muscles; his temper, which he had held in so admirably during his brief passage of arms with Thrasyllus, was dangerously frayed. He looked about him. He had some forty vessels at his disposal: yet after the exhilaration of yesterday’s battle he seemed once more doomed to sit still and wait. The watch-dog of the Hellespont, he thought, and smiled in spite of himself.

  What would Thrasyllus do in Athens? he wondered; and suddenly realised he was so tired he did not care. With slow limping steps he walked away from the harbour.

  • • • • •

  Adeimantus to Alcibiades: written from Athens.

  ‘It was with the greatest joy that I received your letter, and heard of your notable victory off Abydos—though the news had already reached Athens through Thrasyllus, who, as you may guess, did not hesitate to turn it to good advantage. He saw how strong the possibility of restoring the full democracy was as soon as he arrived. From a military point of view, as long as the Athenian fleet remained opposed to him, Theramenes and the Five Thousand were helpless. He did his best with what he had; but it would have been better if he had done nothing at all. A month ago he attempted to reconquer Euboea, with a wretchedly scanty and ill-equipped squadron, and naturally got soundly beaten. At this point Thrasyllus arrived and began to talk of great deeds in the Hellespont. After that Theramenes gave up, and the Five Thousand were quietly dissolved, without any fuss. So now once again, as you wanted, we have a Council and an Assembly, and the Saurian fleet is free to return home.

  ‘I wish I had better news for you personally. When the Assembly met to elect the generals for the year, your name was not put forward, though Thrasyllus, as you might guess, was elected unanimously. The popular party is, of course, very much in the ascendant. They have found a new successor to Hyperbolus and Androcles, a lyre-maker named Cleophon. He has been canvassing very strongly against you, claiming that you were at least indirectly responsible for the death of Androcles. I have been at some pains to spread the truth concerning the part you played at Abydos: a part which Thrasyllus carefully minimised in his official report to the new Assembly.

  ‘Theramenes has been sent on a mission to the Islands to spare him the awkwardness of remaining in Athens; perhaps you might like to renew an old acquaintance. And Thrasyllus, it is rumoured, is commandeering all available ships for action in Ionia; at all events, he is clearly trying to establish himself in an independent command.’

  • • • • •

  Tissaphernes had watched all these developments from Sardis with considerable annoyance. He was annoyed that the Spartan fleet had abandoned Miletus for the Hellespont, thus leaving a mere handful of Athenian vessels at Samos to dominate the Ionian coast; he was even more annoyed with himself for not having foreseen that Pharnabazus, by the simple expedient of dealing honestly with the Spartans, would steal such a march on him. It was distressingly obvious that if Pharnabazus’ support won the war for Sparta, Pharnabazus would get all the credit for it with Darius: especially now that the King had issued a rescript outlining an openly pro-Spartan policy. A copy of this lay before Tissaphernes, and was causing him to think rapidly. What was worse, it was more than likely that Sparta would now carry their complaints of his duplicity and bad faith to Darius himself: the broken treaties, the withholding of pay, the trafficking with Alcibiades . . . It occurred to the Satrap, with a certain grim irony, that he had made precisely the same mistake as the Athenian he so despised; he had played too high with too little to wager.

  But at any rate his only course lay plain before him. The Imperial rescript had shown him that. So it came about that the following day he too prepared to ride northward, to the troubled area round the Hellespont. It might not even yet be too late to make his peace with a new Spartan commander.

  • • • • •

  Alcibiades to Adeimantus: written from Cyzicus in the Propontis.

  ‘By the time this letter reaches you, you will have heard of the most important news it contains. I cannot conceal my feelings of triumph and satisfaction at the turn events have taken; I feel that at last I have justified myself by my conduct both to the people of Athens, and (which is more important) to you, my oldest friend whose faith and, counsel have supported me all through these difficult and dangerous months.

  ‘First, I have to tell you something which, on looking back, I can see—as no doubt my enemies will—as high comedy; but it was the most deplorable error of judgment I have ever made, and it nearly cost me my life.

  ‘It all happened six weeks ago. I was tired of sitting idle at Abydos; and when reports came in from the hinterland that my old friend Tissaphernes had appeared in these parts, it seemed too good a chance to miss. I argued
that he was here because of Pharnabazus’ liaison with the Spartans: and so far I was right. Unfortunately I also assumed that he was at his old game of setting two cocks to fight each other. If Pharnabazus was for Sparta, surely Tissaphernes would turn to Athens? It only proved, as Socrates used to tell me, the fallacy of arguing from insufficient evidence.

  ‘Anyway, I imagined, fool that I was, that Tissaphernes would be glad to see me again—especially now that I was virtually in control of the whole Athenian fleet, and had a notable victory behind me. I went to meet him alone, in full ambassadorial pomp, with nothing behind me but a retinue of liveried servants bearing gifts for him. As soon as he received me I knew something was badly wrong; but by then it was too late. My servants were overpowered by his guards, and I found myself standing in front of him with my hands tied behind my back, and a great Iranian soldier standing on either side of me with a drawn scimitar. Not, you will admit, a pleasant situation.

  ‘He wasn’t angry; he didn’t even raise his voice, and I had the feeling he was frightened himself. As indeed he had good cause to be. He sat there staring me through and through with those black snake’s eyes of his, and informed me he had received a rescript from King Darius commanding him to wage war against Athens and lend all support he might to “the Spartan allies”. That, of course, solved the whole riddle of his behaviour; but it hardly helped me. At the same time I got the impression that he had no desire to execute me at once, or take any other irrevocable step. After all, the King might change his mind; and Tissaphernes would be hard put to it then to explain the murder of a prominent Athenian general.

  ‘So he compromised by taking me down to Sardis under a strong armed guard and imprisoning me there. I knew then that it was extremely unlikely I should be killed; but even so it was a most awkward business. Firstly, it left the fleet in the Hellespont without a senior commander, and spring was not far off; secondly—I write this in confidence—it showed beyond all doubt to those who were interested (such as your damnable Assembly in Athens) that my influence over Tissaphernes was not quite all I would have had them believe.

  ‘The way I escaped was really absurdly simple. No Persian can resist a bribe, and my gaoler was no exception to the rule. Obviously I had no money on me—Tissaphernes had seen to that—but I still possessed my signet ring. I gave it to the fellow, together with a note to my second-in-command at Abydos explaining what had happened, and asking for the bearer to be paid a gold talent, with no questions asked. It worked without a hitch, though it took nearly three weeks for the courier to get there and back. The gaoler even provided a horse for me out of his profits. I tied him up and knocked a convincing-looking hole in the wall (naturally he wanted to be left alive to enjoy his gains), after which I rode all night to Clazomenae, the nearest port on the Ionian coast still faithful to Athens. I wasn’t stopped once.

  ‘At Clazomenae I received a tremendous welcome. It had occurred to me that Tissaphernes’ main reason in imprisoning me had been to prove his good faith to the Spartans; so I let it be known that he had connived at my escape himself. This should effectively scotch any reconciliation between him and Mindarus in the Hellespont.

  ‘The Clazomenians gave me six ships: not as much as I had hoped, but better than nothing. I sailed straight for the Straits, by way of Lesbos. But when I got to Abydos I found that my subordinates, having become thoroughly scared of the possibility of a fresh Spartan attack, had evacuated their position in the Hellespont and sailed right round. the Chersonese peninsula to Cardia. I had no option but to follow them there. They told me that Thrasybulus and Theramenes were, each expected with twenty more ships, and—much worse—that the Spartans, seeing the coast clear, were besieging Cyzicus. If it fell, it’d give them control of the Bosphorus and the Hellespont at one stroke.

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever been so angry in my life; but swearing at my men did no good. I left word for Theramenes and Thrasybulus to catch me up as best, they could—they were expected that same day—and sailed straight back up the Narrows with every ship I could raise. In fact, they were by then only an hour or so behind me. We sailed by night to avoid being seen; but when we all assembled at the north end of the Straits early next morning, we heard that Cyzicus had. fallen.

  ‘We had to make up our minds on the spot: thanks to the Gods we decided to risk an attack. Things went well with us, We captured the whole Spartan fleet, and saved the town. As I write, I’m looking out over the harbour where the final action was fought. A small detail to amuse you: we intercepted the Spartan dispatch that was being sent home. A pleasant piece of Laconic brevity: it merely read: “Mindarus dead. Ships lost. Don’t know what to do.”

  But we have not been idle since then. We have established control over the Bosphorus itself. Byzantium and Chalcedon at the southern end are too strongly fortified for an immediate attack; so we sailed up north of them to Chrysopolis and took it. This means that we can set up a customs station there and levy tax on every ship coming through from the Black Sea. What this will mean to Athens in terms of revenue it’s hard to estimate as yet; but it should prove an enormous sum. We have established Theramenes as Chief Customs Officer, by the way. He seems relieved at the thought of no more fighting; and as he has no expectation of returning to Athens for some time, he is quite pleased with the position.

  ‘You are now able, I imagine, to assess the service I have done my country by this one campaign. The Spartan naval power is almost completely broken; our fleet is in complete control of the Hellespont and the Bosphorus, and Athens’ corn supplies are assured for the future.. Lastly, and most important of all, we are in a position to refill the depleted national treasury to an extent that we never dreamed would be possible again. At last I have undone the work I did in Sicily.

  ‘I have said at somewhat greater length all I have told you (with the exception of the Tissaphernes affair) in my official report to the Council. I would dearly love to be in Athens to witness the joy with which I know it will be received. I even hope that through me the building Pericles began may at last be finished. Yet I am content to wait, after so long; to wait, though impatiently, for the word of the people that will soon, I know, bring me home once more.’

  • • • • •

  He was keyed to the highest level of expectation: and Adeimantus’ reply, after a long and unexplained delay, came like a blow in the face. ‘The people’, he wrote bitterly, ‘are well pleased with what they speak of as their successes; you never saw such revels as we have had. But as for the author of their good fortune—that is another matter. Your imprisonment by Tissaphernes is common knowledge, and it is being said that if the Phoenician fleet did not appear in the Aegean it was not through any good offices of yours. Thrasyllus, as you might expect, has not cared to contradict these rumours. But then he has got all he wanted. By next spring his new fleet will be ready—a hundred strong—and he will sail for Ionia with the Assembly’s blessing . . .’

  He sat down wearily. He had done all he could; more than could ever have been expected of him; and it was not enough. Antiochus, coming to discuss some questions of provisioning, found him lying on the day-bed in his room, three empty flagons beside him, and the letter dangling limply from his fingers. It was not yet midday; and it was the first time Alcibiades had been seen drunk since he sailed from Phaselis.

  Antiochus picked up the letter and read it: then he gazed long and thoughtfully at the figure on the bed. Alcibiades lay with eyes shut, muttering and tossing in his sleep, his face flushed and congested. Streaks of premature grey now showed in the golden hair, and despite his great strength he had become alarmingly thin. The flesh had fallen away from nose and cheeks, leaving them bony, uncompromising: almost ugly. The long, aristocratic hands that twitched restlessly at the skirt of his tunic were little more than muscle and bone, in which the ridged knuckles stood out with alarming prominence. The fever of energy that had driven him through this whirlwind campaign, hardly sleeping or eating, had taken a tremendous price—f
or nothing. And now the reaction had set in.

  Antiochus shook his head. Then, automatically, he knocked the neck off a bottle and drank, his heavy face furrowed in perplexity. He picked up the letter and put it away in a chest. Then he took Alcibiades’ heavy general’s cloak, and spread it gently over him. There seemed nothing else he could do.

  • • • • •

  Alcibiades moved the fleet from Cyzicus to Sestos about a week later; and this was the last decisive action he took for nearly a year. He was no sooner established in his new quarters than he embarked on a life of dissipation that even the hardened Antiochus found disturbing. It was as if he were determined, not so much to forget, as to kill himself. Night after night he spent in the brothels of the port, or drinking with the lowest riff-raff he could find—pimps, slavers, Thracian brigands; to return dazed and sick in the early hours of the morning, and sleep uneasily for a few hours. He was living in a nightmare world of his own creation, and any attempt to intrude on it evoked a furious and hysterical assault. One night he nearly succeeded in killing Antiochus with a dagger; and after that the sailor gave up and let him go his own way.

  By now his good looks were almost entirely gone. He was so thin as to be almost emaciated; yet his constant drinking produced a puffy and unhealthy pallor in his face, and his once-clear grey eyes were filmed and bloodshot. During that long, somnolent autumn, while his ships rotted for want of careening, and his men in their idleness and boredom led lives that were hardly less debauched than their commander’s, his hair turned completely grey. His bouts of tearful hysteria grew more and more frequent: he would lie with a drawn sword in his hand, raving in semi-delirium of Pericles, and the men who had sold and betrayed him; and at these times no one dared go near him. In the intervals, as the unremitting strain to which he put his already debilitated body began to tell on him, he spent hours in complete lassitude, lying silent and motionless, his eyes wide open, staring at nothing.