Achilles His Armour

by Peter Green

  Adeimantus shook his head in depressed silence. Presently it began to rain; a thin persistent drizzle, blown in their faces by gusts of wind, that soaked them to the skin and reduced visibility to practically nothing.

  Towards nightfall they cast anchor off Andros, near the port of Gaurium.

  • • • • •

  Extract from a secret dispatch to Cleophon: written at Samos.

  ‘. . . Things are going very much as you anticipated. There has been no suspicion of my activities; the number of new recruits engaged for this expedition has prevented any awkward inquiries. I am accepted as a genuine member of the crew.

  ‘Already he has suffered a setback; one on which we did not reckon. We landed on Andros as arranged, and at first all went well. The Spartans came out and made, an attack, which was beaten off. But as we carry no siege equipment aboard, it was impossible for Alcibiades to assault the port of Andros itself: An attempt to take it by storm was defeated with heavy losses. He had to content himself with fortifying Gaurium and leaving one of his senior officers, Conon, in command there with a detachment of twenty ships. You will readily perceive that this provides you with valuable evidence against him.

  ‘We have been in Samos now for three weeks; the voyage from Andros was uneventful. The situation in Ionia is considerably more critical than Alcibiades gave the government to understand. In particular, there can be no doubt that the Persian King is supplying the. Spartans at Ephesus both with money and shipbuilding facilities. Alcibiades has had to spend most of his time, as you foresaw, in raids along the coast to raise pay for his troops. Thus one of the tasks you laid upon myself and my colleagues has been peculiarly easy.

  ‘Lysander, through Cyrus’ good offices, is paying his men at the rate of four obols a day; Alcibiades is hard put to it to offer three, and even this is very much in arrears. Many of our troops are veterans who have gone through long and hard campaigns all of them expected immediate successes, with plenty of booty thrown in. There is, therefore, already considerable dissatisfaction in the ranks, which I am discreetly encouraging. Discipline is poor, and it should not be long before desertions begin to take place. Even among the obstinately loyal an atmosphere of profound pessimism is observable.

  ‘You may judge of the straits to which Alcibiades has been brought when I tell you that he actually sent an embassy to Cyrus a week ago, suggesting that Persia should return to her old policy of neutrality. Needless to say, it was not even received. It is plain that he has lost whatever influence he ever had in Persian diplomatic circles: a fact which, I suggest, might be discreetly publicised in Athens.

  ‘The evidence is accumulating faster than you expected; and enough of it has a solid foundation in fact to provide material for a convincing prosecution. But it will be advisable to wait a little longer. If we can formulate our case during the coming winter, it should be possible to get him removed from his command just before the new elections, together with his second-in-command Adeimantus, who remains obstinately faithful to him. By this means we can attain our ends without doing irreparable damage to the military situation here.

  ‘Our only problem now is Thrasybulus. He is due to arrive with his fleet in Samos at any day, after a highly effective campaign in Thrace. He too is firmly attached to Alcibiades, with whom he served all through the fighting in the Hellespont. But if Alcibiades himself makes one major mistake, Thrasybulus, I fancy, will fall with him, despite his past record of success.

  ‘I hope to let you have a further report in the near future.’

  • • • • •

  From outside the door Adeimantus heard a burst of laughter and the clink of glasses. He knocked, and went in without waiting for a reply. Alcibiades and Antiochus were sitting together at table, with Thrasybulus’ dispatch lying between them. It was immediately obvious that both of them were more than a little drunk.

  ‘You sent for me?’ said Adeimantus formally.

  Alcibiades pushed over glass, bottle, and dispatch with one quick gesture. ‘Read that,’ he said. ‘And have a drink,’ he added, as an afterthought.

  He never ought to be allowed to sit idle, thought Adeimantus. This couldn’t have happened at a worse time. If he does something stupid now . . .

  He studied the dispatch, apprehension stirring uneasily inside him. Something was desperately wrong: he smelt danger like an animal. But he could not put his finger on it.

  ‘Besieging Phocaea . . .’ he read aloud.

  ‘Up on the coast north of Chios,’ put in Antiochus. As soon as he spoke it was clear he was very drunk indeed. ‘A rich town, with a good anchorage . . . Know it well.’

  Adeimantus said, in a puzzled voice: ‘But he was coming to join us here . . .’

  ‘Well, he’s obviously changed his mind.’ Alcibiades’ voice was impatient. ‘I think he’s probably right. One source of supply we haven’t tapped yet. And he seems to be doing well. He’s invested the whole town . . .’

  What do you intend?’ Again that flicker of fear passed across Adeimantus’ mind.

  ‘It’s pretty clear what we have to do.’ Alcibiades had reached that stage of intoxication which will not put up with contradiction. ‘If he’s not coming here, we must go to him.’

  ‘And leave Samos unguarded? What about Lysander at Ephesus? He’s not a fool, even if he is a Spartan. He’d sail across as soon as we were over the horizon—’

  ‘I don’t need you to teach me my business. Of course we won’t take the whole fleet. We’ll split it in half. We’ve got eighty vessels at our disposal. Forty can, stay here, and forty can come with us. Besides, Lysander won’t risk an engagement at the moment. Half his fleet’s still building; and the rest are under repair. If you’re as worried as all that, the detachment we leave behind can move across to Notium to keep an eye on him . . .’

  ‘We?’ echoed Adeimantus. ‘Who’s going to remain behind in command?’

  ‘Not you,’ said Alcibiades promptly. ‘I want you with me. Can’t do without my best commander. Phocaea’s the really important thing. There’s plenty of booty there.’

  ‘We can do with it,’ said Adeimantus grimly. ‘I don’t like the men’s attitude at all. And it’s been getting steadily worse. They nearly killed one of the officers who tried to put some discipline into them this morning. If they don’t get some pay soon —’

  Alcibiades sprang to his feet, flushed and angry. ‘Do you suppose I don’t know that? Why else do you think we’re going to Phocaea at all? I told you it was an impossible situation but it won’t be made better by you standing there and behaving like an idiot . . .’

  ‘Very well,’ said Adeimantus steadily, taking no notice of this outburst. ‘We’ll go to Samos. But who are you going to leave in command here? If discipline’s as bad as you admit it is, who can you trust?’

  ‘That’s easy.’ Alcibiades’ slightly wavering gaze turned to where Antiochus sat with his legs on the table, a bottle beside him. He was eating grapes and spitting the pips on to the floor.

  Fatally, Adeimantus said the first thing that came into his head. ‘Are you out of your mind?’

  ‘I would remind you,’ said Alcibiades in his most arrogant voice, ‘that I am in supreme command of this expedition.’ He was sweating slightly; though whether with drink or anger was not certain.

  Now I’ve spoken my mind, thought Adeimantus, the only thing to do is to go through with it. He said: ‘If the discipline was bad before, it’ll be worse than ever now. Are you going to ask your captains to serve under this . . . this drunken steersman, who hasn’t had the wit or the brains to get a command for himself in thirty years?’

  Antiochus opened one eye, shook his head sadly, and said in a thick drowsy voice: ‘Tha’s rude . . .’ Then he relapsed into somnolence once more.

  ‘I’m not prepared to argue the matter,’ said Alcibiades. ‘You’re coming with me, and Antiochus is the only other person here I can trust. Besides, I think faithful service should have some reward.’

 
; ‘At least guarantee that he won’t attempt any foolishness while we’re gone. If he sits tight and keeps out of action it may be all right.’ He spoke about Antiochus as if he were not there.

  Alcibiades wavered, caught between the force of Adeimantus’ argument and the desire not to compromise his own dignity. He took a long pull at a flagon to give himself time to think. ‘Very well,’ he said at length; ‘I agree to that. Antiochus!’ The sailor snorted, opened his eyes, and hauled himself up into a sitting position. ‘You are going to take over command of half the fleet from tomorrow while Adeimantus and I are at Phocaea. Your orders are to keep guard over Samos. If Lysander acts suspiciously you can take a detachment to Notium to observe his movements. But that’s all, do you understand? Under no circumstances are you to launch any attack on your own authority. If you are in doubt about anything—anything—send a message to me by the overland route.’

  Antiochus nodded owlishly. ‘Understood,’ he said. ‘No battles . . . no glory. Just . . . sit and wait.’ He sighed deeply and sprawled back in his chair. On his bare and hairy chest the twined serpents heaved up and down with his heavy breathing. Presently he began to snore.

  • • • • •

  ‘Have another drink, General,’ said the sailor. He was a thin, foxy-faced man, whose already unpleasing countenance was liberally peppered by smallpox. He filled up the cup with a steady hand; but he did not drink himself.

  Antiochus accepted the offer with an air of magnificent condescension. The little tavern by the water’s edge was pleasant after the heat and discomfort of the voyage from Samos: cool and sanded, shaded outside by high dusty plane-trees. Notium was really an excellent place. And at least the enemy was in sight. He stared out of the open doorway, past his ships drawn up in trim lines in the harbour (his ships!); over the sparkling water to the blue coastline seven miles away. That patch of white against the blue was Ephesus. His eye took in the whole great sweep of the bay; and excitement quickened in him.

  ‘You never get on if you don’t take a chance now and again,’ the little sailor was saying. ‘Look at you now, General. You’ve got your chance. How many years were you a pilot, if you’ll excuse my asking?’

  ‘Twenty . . . thirty . . . I don’t know.’

  ‘There you are. And today you’re a general.’

  Antiochus, filled his cup again and drained it in one gulp. ‘Wha’s point of being general . . . if you can’t do anything?’ he asked, descending in a flash from grandiloquence to maudlin self-pity.

  ‘Who’s to stop you?’ asked the sailor.

  ‘Orders . . .’ mumbled Antiochus.

  ‘What sort of a general are you if you have to obey orders?’ said the sailor persuasively. ‘Initiative. That’s the thing. Now supposing you sit here till Alcibiades comes back from Phocaea. What do you think’ll happen to you then?’

  ‘Happen to me?’ Antiochus’ forehead wrinkled with the effort of thinking.

  ‘I’ll tell you. You’ll go back to being his pilot again. Will you be content with that, after having been a general?’

  Antiochus rubbed his nose thoughtfully.

  ‘Of course you won’t. But you needn’t be a pilot again if you don’t want to be. Listen.’ The little sailor leant forward confidentially over the table. From close range his poxy face was more unsavoury than ever. ‘It’s only seven miles across the gulf. Seven miles. Lysander knows Alcibiades is gone to join Thrasybulus. He won’t be expecting anything. His ships are out of commission. If you could tempt him out to fight you could capture Ephesus . . . You can’t see them leaving you as a common steersman if you do that, can you? The Assembly’ll confirm your appointment. You’ll be a made man—’

  Antiochus said, with heavy drunken logic: ‘Suppose . . . I don’t tempt him out . . . ?’

  ‘You’ll be no worse off then than you were before. You can’t lose either way.’

  Antiochus, a sudden flicker of conscience stirring in him, said doubtfully: ‘Better not take all ships . . . Orders . . . not to leave port . . . undefended . . .’

  The little sailor smiled to himself. ‘Quite right, General,’ he said. ‘I admire your sense of discipline. In any case, you don’t need many ships for a little job like this. Ten should be quite enough . . .’

  ‘Keep rest on alert . . . in case of trouble. Always take . . . proper . . . p-precautions . . .’

  He rose to his feet, swaying slightly, and walked out into the midday sunshine. At the door he turned back and said: I know how I’ll t-tempt him out . . .’

  ‘How?’ asked the little sailor politely.

  ‘Be . . . rude to him,’ articulated Antiochus. He vanished; and could presently be heard bawling to his crew. The little sailor took paper and pen from his knapsack and began to draft a report.

  • • • • •

  Lysander sat in the comfortable apartment that had been placed at his disposal in Ephesus, having just finished a meal that would have been considered frugal by any standards. He was a dark, hard-bitten man of about forty, with a thin nose and a thin mouth. His hair was smooth and black, and his body, though spare, was too heavily muscled to have any grace. He was a more than competent soldier, but hitherto his poverty had held him back. Now he was in a key command, and fully intended to make the most of it. He was a highly ambitious man; he was also a confirmed homosexual, by inclination as well as custom. It had never occurred to him before he came to Ephesus that this trait could be turned to political advantage; but now he was well aware of its potentialities. As he thought of the young Cyrus, a smile spread for an instant over that grim countenance.

  He got up and began to walk round the room. Its luxury embarrassed him; he felt an obscure moral culpability in so much as occupying it. Now he leant out of the window, drawing in the sea air, as if to dissociate himself as much as possible from his surroundings. But what he saw sent him back into the room, shouting in his harsh Spartan brogue for his second-in-command.

  The latter came running up the stairs. He was a young impetuous man, and Lysander loathed him cordially.

  ‘Are you aware,’ the General inquired, ‘that there are ten enemy ships hove to outside the harbour?

  ‘Yes sir. I was just on my way to inform you of the fact.’ The young man seemed to be having some difficulty in keeping a straight face; and Lysander realised that he was nearly bursting with suppressed laughter.

  ‘Control yourself,’ he snapped. ‘What in the name of the Two Gods are they doing there? The harbour boom’s secure, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes sir.’

  ‘There’s not enough of them for an attack, and too many for

  mere reconnaissance . . . Anyway, Alcibiades is up at Phocaea . . .’

  ‘I think, sir,’ said the young officer carefully, ‘that they want you to come out and fight them.’

  ‘What? Are they drunk?’

  ‘Extremely, sir.’ Faint shouts drifted up from the harbour. ‘When I was down by the boom myself a little while ago they were being . . . somewhat personal.’

  ‘About whom?’

  ‘You, I’m afraid, sir.’

  ‘What were they saying?’ asked Lysander.

  The officer told him. It did little credit either to the General’s morality, or financial condition, or courage. Lysander compressed his lips. ‘Call the crews out for action,’ he said.

  ‘But it may be a trap—’

  ‘I think not. Use your eyes, man. There’s not another sail in sight. We’ll teach these sots a lesson they won’t forget in a hurry.’ He picked up helmet and cuirass and went clattering down the stairs.

  Outside the harbour Antiochus, his voice hoarse with shouting abuse, had given up all attempts to rouse Lysander, and was beginning to sing.

  • • • • •

  Adeimantus saw the messenger flogging his tired horse along the coast road some distance from Phocaea, and instantly guessed what had happened. He stood gazing hopelessly from the earthworks towards the beleaguered town while the messenger dism
ounted outside Alcibiades’ tent and went inside.

  Five minutes; ten minutes. Along the line of the fortifications the clink of mattock and shovel rang out in the fresh morning air; the smoke from the dying camp-fires curled up towards the sky. On the walls of the town the sentries marched to and fro. Everything was quiet. Far too quiet. The triremes moored off-shore lay motionless in a dull grey mirror of water. Away to the northwest rose the dim outline of Lesbos.

  Presently Alcibiades emerged from his tent. There was a curious air of resignation about him. He saw Adeimantus, and came slowly towards him. For a while he stood in silence, resting his elbows on the parapet.

  At last he said: ‘You were right, of course. I should have taken your advice.’ He made a hopeless little gesture with one hand. Adeimantus looked questioningly at him.

  ‘They tried to attack Lysander at Ephesus—with ten ships . . . Drunk, of course. They lost the lot, and twelve more from the fleet at Notium that came over to try and save them. There’s no excuse. It wasn’t a battle at all . . . Complete disorder . . . a massacre . . .’

  ‘And Antiochus?’

  ‘Dead.’ The single word dropped flatly into the stillness.

  ‘I’m sorry . . .’ said Adeimantus awkwardly.

  ‘Don’t lie to me. You know me too well. You’re not sorry. Why don’t you say what you really think? That I’m a fool, and Antiochus was a sot, and we both got what we deserved—’

  Adeimantus shrugged his shoulders. ‘What’s the use? The thing’s done. The future’s what matters.’

  ‘The future . . . What future do you imagine there’ll be now? This is just what they’ve been waiting for—’

  ‘Be reasonable,’ said Adeimantus. ‘It’s not so great a disaster. ‘We can afford to lose twenty-two ships. You aren’t to be blamed for the follies of your subordinates. You weren’t even there—’