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ATHENS
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Pericles sits at the large dinning room table of the Tholos, the archon’s living quarters just off the agora, nursing a cup of warm milk with Aspasia at his side. An hour earlier a messenger had arrived and told them to anticipate regrettable news within the hour. His anxiety grows with each passing minute, his hands tapping nervously on the surface of the table as if it were a drum. This impatience begins to infect Aspasia.
“Will you make the first move?” she asks, hoping to distract him from his cares.
“I would be a fool to do so,” he replies. “Our allies would revolt or nullify our treaties if we are perceived to be the aggressors. No, we’ll have to wait for them to make the first move.”
“Then how will it happen?”
“Does it matter?” Pericles says, throwing his hands up in the air. “Great wars always begin with minor incidents. I can only assume the Spartans have convinced some city or village to revolt and are just waiting for the right moment—and if they haven’t found an accomplice yet, I could easily furnish them with a list of a dozen cities I would just as soon be rid of if it didn’t mean losing the entire empire. One way or another, war will begin soon enough.”
“Then just make sure it doesn’t begin with your assassination,” she says, gently squeezing his hand.
Pericles returns the gesture with a smile. The archon enjoys a fleeting moment of tranquility that is cut short by the sound of servants opening the doors. Alcibiades, beaten and defeated, walks into the room flanked by a pair of soldiers on each side.
Both Pericles and Aspasia rise from the table. The archon dismisses the servants and soldiers with nothing more than a slight nod. He walks up to Alcibiades and lays his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “It’s good to have you back in Athens again, Alcibiades,” he says before turning his back to the young man and walking back to the table. “We need to have a little talk.”
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School of Athens Page 16
