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ATHENS
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Paralus walks through the hallway of the brothel doing his best to ignore the ridiculous noises spilling out from under the compartment doors and trying not to breathe through his nose. The pungent sent of incense and perfume is strong enough to make his eyes water and the thought of just what kind of odor those fragrances are masking makes Paralus nauseous. He covers his nose and mouth with the collar of his tunic. The naked whores passing him in the hallway don’t seem to take offense and assume he’s merely trying to hide his identity.
It’s the sixth brothel Paralus has visited this afternoon. Growing up, Paralus cared little for brothels. They were loud and filthy, two qualities that never appealed to him. He has ventured into several during the course of his life, usually to recover friends who had drunkenly drifted off to sleep, but never to avail himself of their services. This was also not the first time he had entered one looking for his brother Alcibiades, nor, did he assume, would it likely be the last.
Nevertheless, when Paralus reaches his destination, Room Nineteen, he pauses before knocking and allows his curiosity to get the best of him. He holds his breath and slowly places an ear up against the door to listen to what’s occurring on the other side. A smile grows wider with each passing moment as Paralus bites the knuckle of an index finger to contain a giggle gestating just below the bottom of his rib cage.
On the other side of the door he can distinctly hear the sounds of his brother and no less than three other women enjoying vigorous carnal exercise. Paralus may not be as sexually experienced as most of his peers, but he is fairly certain that many of the ancillary noises he hears through the door are not conventionally associated with the deed. This only seems fitting to Paralus, as nothing about Alcibiades is ever conventional.
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When Paralus was just six years old his father welcomed Alcibiades, then only a year old himself, into his home and became the infant’s guardian. Alcibiades’ father, a close cousin of Pericles, died at the Battle of Coronea suppressing a revolt from the Boeotian states. Alcibiades’ mother was so distraught that she succumbed to grief shortly thereafter.
Among most Athenian families this is where the story would end, but not among the Alcmaeonids. The family was the most powerful in Athens and had asserted its influence in governing the city for generations. Curiously enough, the Alcmaeonids were almost dynastically responsible for the evolution of Athenian democracy. A succession of leaders from the family dating back 100 years used the archonship to strip power from institutions and governing bodies run by the noble families of the city and invest it among common citizens.
It did not take long for Alcibiades to prove himself to be a unique child, even among a family of leaders. When he was only six years old he began wrestling much older boys at the gymnasium. On one such occasion his opponent kicked young Alcibiades in the mouth in an attempt to dislodge the young boy’s hold on his other leg. This managed to leave an indentation of Alcibiades teeth on the older boy’s skin. “You bite like a woman, Alcibiades!” he taunted, to the laughter of a large crowd of children watching the match.
Most children would cower as the jests of an older child, but Alcibiades would have none of it. He beat his chest, then charged the older boy yelling “I bite like a lion!” as loudly as he possibly could and set about proving the claim right then and there. The older boy was told that the ensuing scar would most likely be permanent. From an early age it was clear that a fire burned in Alcibiades absent in other men; and when it was properly harnessed the young boy would throw every last measure of his being into the task at hand.
As he grew up Alcibiades proved to be just as intelligent, resourceful, charming, industrious and competitive as he was mischievous, lascivious, lazy, handsome, and devious. He was also very popular. People naturally gravitated toward his charisma and wonton disregard for social conventions or others’ expectations of him. He seemed to effortlessly rise above such nuisances, leaving that burden to lesser men.
To be sure, it was much easier to live life free of constraints when the archon of Athens provided him with a layer of immunity from both the law and the ill will of others. Other children of such privilege were dismissed as spoiled. Not Alcibiades. Even if he without the backing of his powerful guardian there was little doubt in most Athenians minds that he could talk his way out of any mischief, a talent which made his misadventures popular fodder for gossip. To curb the rumors inspired by their adopted son, Pericles and Aspasia thought it best for him to spend several months traveling Greece and see for himself what kind of misbehavior was tolerated abroad.
Now Alcibiades was back in Athens and eager to reacquaint himself with a few old friends.
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Paralus takes a moment to regain control of himself and when he’s ready to proceed with a straight face he tentatively knocks on the door. From the other side of the door he hears Alcibiades’ crisp baritone bellowing over the orgasmic groans of the women: “In another hour!” followed by much softer words that were clearly not meant for his ears: “If you kind ladies can last so long!”
Paralus almost loses his composure, but manages to suppress the unique awkwardness of the moment with a much harder series of knocks at the door.
“I said return later!” Alcibiades yells. Clearly knocking will not be enough.
“It’s your brother, Paralus,” he announces. “I bring an invitation from father.”
Inside the room Alcibiades reluctantly pulls himself away from the trio of women he has been entertaining for much of the afternoon. He takes a seat at the foot of the bed and sighs as three pairs of feet temptingly coax him back to bed, pushing them away tenderly. Alcibiades rises from the bed and, without dressing, goes to answer the door.
“Yes, dear brother?” he says as the door opens.
Paralus is at once startled by Alcibiades’ nakedness and the chorus of giggling coming from inside the room. “Um, welcome back, brother!” he begins, forgetting himself and his purpose for an instant. “I, ugh, hope your travels were uneventful?”
“Hardly, good Paralus!” Alcibiades replies with a bombastic confidence that diminishes Paralus’ own. “My travels were hardly uneventful!”
Paralus tries to prevent himself from looking below Alcibiades waist, but his eyes betray him. “I see that,” he lets slip before stuttering to correct himself. “I mean, father has hard—heard!—heard of your return and wishes to dine with you next week.”
“Wonderful!” exclaims Alcibiades, oblivious to Paralus’ wandering eyes. “I accept—humbly, of course. I planned on seeing the old man shortly after my arrival, but have been detained by some old friends.”
His words are punctuated by more giggling and pleas to return to bed from inside the room. Paralus tries to peer around the door, desperate to discover what kind of creatures could tempt men with such sweet voices, but Alcibiades leans in toward him and whispers, “I’d invite you to join, brother, but I’m afraid there just isn’t enough for the both of us!” Alcibiades slaps Paralus on the shoulder and turns back into the room with a flourish. “Ladies, where were we?” he yells as the door closes behind him.
For a brief moment, Paralus almost resumes listening at the doorway only to shake off the temptation. His message delivered, Paralus smiles and continues on his way. He doesn’t manage to get far when he finds Xanthippus lounging on a bench just around a corner of the hallway. “Thank you for dispensing with that chore,” Xanthippus says.
“He’s not as bad as you pretend him to be,” Paralus replies.
“No, he’s far worse!”
Paralus simply ignores his brother and continues walking down the hallway, but Xanthippus leaps from his seat, catches up to his brother and slaps Paralus across the face. “Listen!” he orders, grabbing his younger brother by the collar. “This isn’t a time for games! War is coming, Paralus. War with Sparta! Every fool knows that it’s only a matter of when it h
appens, because when it does Athens will need strong men. Not wise men like father or charismatic men like Alcibiades or even rich men like your finance’s father, but strong men."
Paralus rubs his cheek and tries to shake off the sting of his brother’s slap. He wants none of Xanthippus’ grandiose sermons. “Strong men who are afraid to deliver messages to their own brothers?” he asks.
The very word brother makes Xanthippus’ face flush with rage. “Alcibiades is not my brother!” he growls through gritted teeth, before storming off down the hallway. Just as he reaches the exit, Xanthippus turns one last time to Paralus, still standing in a minor state of shock, and gives him one last piece of advice. “You’ll see soon enough,” he says. “Strength is the only language understood in Sparta.”
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School of Athens Page 4
