The Plot to Save Socrates (Sierra Waters Book 1)

by Paul Levinson

  "I am not going anywhere," Alcibiades replied. He put the scroll on the table. "Except outside to look around."

  He picked up the long spear from the fallen guard, and walked slowly to the doorway. He crouched down, to the side, and listened. Then he moved his head to the edge, and looked beyond.

  He came back to the table. "It seems safe now, at least for the moment. They are all dead out there -- eight of those strangely outfitted men, and your other brave guard."

  Heron sighed. Ampharete moaned, and put her head on the table.

  Alcibiades touched her shoulder. She moaned again. Her eyes were shut.

  "She must have hit her head hard on the floor," Heron said.

  Alcibiades gently lifted one of her eyelids. "She is partially conscious," he said. "I have seen men in this condition before. She should be better with a few hours rest." He kissed her on the forehead.

  "You need to move," Heron insisted.

  Alcibiades considered. "We can give her a ride on that wheeled contraption. You and Ampharete are more important to the success of your plan than I am."

  "You are wrong," Heron replied, but offered no further argument.

  * * *

  Alcibiades poured wine on his wound. He wrapped it in a piece of garment Heron provided, then dressed himself, as best he could, with the armor from their slain guard. He put the scroll with the instructions close to his chest.

  He looked at one of the dead attackers. "I have never seen garb such as that. And they fight better than Spartans, almost as good as your guards. Are they from the future?"

  "Either that, or they were trained and dressed by someone from the future," Heron replied.

  "I did not know there were that many chairs," Ampharete said, groggily, dreamily. She picked her head up from the table.

  Alcibiades looked at her, and smiled. She smiled back, then closed her eyes and put her head back down.

  "What does she mean about chairs?" Alcibiades asked Heron.

  "That is the way we travel to and from the future," Heron answered.

  "I do not understand any of that," Alcibiades said. "But ... let us start walking, so we can have a chance of at least living into the future, the usual way. How far are we now from the boat to Athens that you mentioned?"

  "About three hours by foot to the river -- perhaps longer, in our condition. It is a tributary of the Maeander, which will take us to Miletus. From there we can take another boat to Piraeus and Athens."

  "Can you walk to the river?" Alcibiades asked.

  "Yes. I am exhausted but not hurt. What about your wound?"

  "Not as bad as it might have been."

  The two men carefully carried Ampharete outside and placed her in the upright cart. They fastened her snugly, so she would not slip out.

  Alcibiades looked again at the bodies on the ground. "Should we risk the time to bury them? At least your guards?"

  "No."

  * * *

  The two walked as fast as they could on the path, Heron taking charge of Ampharete, Alcibiades of the long spear. Ampharete occasionally muttered a phrase, or a name, unknown to Alcibiades. "Max ... Mr. Appleton ... Thomas ..."

  "Those are names from the future," Heron said.

  "... Melqat ...," Ampharete mumbled.

  "Well, that one at least I can recognize," Alcibiades said. "It sounds Phoenician."

  "Yes," Heron agreed. "But I do not know him."

  "Tell me more about Socrates -- or how I fit in your plans for him. He and I are not on the best of terms these days."

  "That does not matter," Heron replied. "I am hoping you will be able to convince Socrates by your example."

  "You mean, the fact that I survived?"

  "The fact you both died and survived," Heron replied. "Socrates will think you died tonight. When he learns of your death, he will grieve. Despite what you think, he still loves you. When you come to see him in his prison, right before he is about to drink the hemlock that the Athenian court of 500 citizens so ignobly prescribed, your very presence will be the best argument in favor of his following the course of escape."

  "No one else among his students tried to save him?"

  "His old friend Crito came to talk to him -- he had a ship chartered and an escape route all mapped -- but to no avail," Heron replied.

  "Crito is sincere enough, but no genius."

  Heron nodded.

  "What about Plato?" Alcibiades asked. "You told me--"

  "As far as we know, Plato left Athens after the sentence was pronounced, before it was carried out. Plato inspired people with his words. As for his personal bravery..."

  "I understand. And this will happen five years from now, you say?"

  "Yes," Heron replied.

  "Explain the special chairs to me. How do they work? Where are they located?"

  "The second question is much easier to answer than the first," Heron responded. "The chairs we hope to travel to, now, are situated in a small dwelling, similar to the one we just left, about midway on the road between the Piraeus and Athens. There are also chairs in other locations and times, in cities that have not yet come to be, in places you never heard of."

  Alcibiades took this in. "And your answer to my first question?"

  Heron considered. "Are you familiar with the work of Heraclitus?... Yes, of course, you are -- Socrates spoke of him."

  Alcibiades nodded. "He was born not very far from here -- in Ephesus, a little north of Miletus -- and flourished about 60 years ago. 'Heraclitus the obscure,' I have heard him called. Not because few know of him, but because many find his thinking almost impossible to comprehend."

  "I consider him one of the greatest thinkers in all of human history," Heron said.

  Alcibiades smiled. "That is high praise indeed, given what you claim to be your unique position in history."

  "Heraclitus recognized that you can never step into the same river, exactly the same river, twice, because new water is always flowing. And yet we are right in thinking there is a reality to the River Maeander, a reality which endures, and makes the River Maeander distinct from any other river, such as the River Cayster. So the river always changes, yet stays the same, has continuity -- both are true."

  "Yes, that is a profound, if vexing, observation."

  "And what is true of rivers, of all existence, is also true of time itself, because time is part of existence," Heron continued. "I, and others throughout history, have recognized that essential point. And if that is so, then travel from one time to another should be possible, even easy, since, even though time always moves, it also stays the same -- stands still, is the same time."

  "A tempting comparison," Alcibiades responded, "but not without flaws. A river stays the same, if I understand Heraclitus, because its path through the earth stays roughly the same, even as the water always changes. But time stays the same -- if indeed it does -- for precisely the opposite reason. Last year -- the equivalent of the water -- stays the same, regardless of the path that time takes in the future. Is that not so? You are able to come back here, whether from ten or a hundred years in the future, because this time has remained stable?"

  "Not entirely--"

  "Still, you are here.... If I believe your account, I guess your presence now demonstrates that time travel is possible, whatever the theory behind it...." Alcibiades considered. "But how did you make such travel physically possible? Heraclitus, unlike Parmenides, was a great believer in the reality of the physical world."

  Heron nodded, vigorously. "Yes, yes, I am an inventor more than a philosopher -- constructing devices that actually work has always been the love of my life."

  "Then ... you invented a chair that embodies this ... Heraclitian principle?" Alcibiades asked.

  "Many tried, throughout history, and did not succeed. They grasped the essential idea, but lacked the proper equipment. Just like the moving picture device which I created -- will create -- in Alexandria will not be anything more than a toy until, nearly two thousand years
later, the machinery at last existed to make it a vehicle of popular theater." Heron sighed. "It is difficult to discuss events across time without being confusing .... But I can tell you that, in my distant time, machinery finally existed that allowed me to construct a special chair that drew upon the nature of time and space, of minutes and tributaries.... I was able to manipulate that intertwined fabric and poke passages right through it. The chair invokes forces that do that, and allows anyone sitting in the chair to travel through time."

  Alcibiades considered. "I still am not sure I completely understand.... But ... you were moved to invent this -- to utilize the craftwork at hand, in your future time, to take advantage of the Heraclitian principle -- because of this manuscript that you speak of?"

  "No," Heron replied. "I invented the chairs before I ever knew of the manuscript. I travelled back to Alexandria, to many other places, and lived there, for short or long periods of time, and learned what I could, contributed what I dared to their cultures, left roots for the future. But I am here now, with you, in this time and this place, because of the manuscript, yes."

  "Why? Surely there are other great men in history worth saving. Why now? Why Socrates?"

  Heron nodded. "I can appreciate why you would ask such a question. But you cannot understand, from your vantage point here in this time, how much attraction this time has to all who have come after. This time, your time, is extraordinary in human history."

  "Not because of me, I assume."

  "No .... because of--"

  "Socrates," Alcibiades completed Heron's sentence.

  "Yes, but more than Socrates," Heron said. "There was a flowering of the mind in this time that set all subsequent human history on its course. Not only philosophy. The serious study of history, mathematics, nature ... the practice of drama, music, the arts...."

  "Socrates is distrustful of the arts," Alcibiades said.

  "Yes, but his name has come to be associated with this time, and all it contained.... Perhaps because of the way he died. The world has never fully recovered from the death of Socrates. Every tutored person knows about it."

  "I suppose I can understand that," Alcibiades said. "And who wrote the manuscript? Was it Plato?"

  "No one knows, with certainty. There are theories..."

  "So you are risking your lives on the words of someone whose identity is unknown to you? Believe me, I am not complaining in the slightest that you saved my life, but--"

  Ampharete stirred. "Where are we?" she asked, hoarsely.

  "Nearing the small boat that will take us to Miletus, then to Athens," Heron replied.

  Alcibiades put his hand on her forehead. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

  "Thirsty," Ampharete responded.

  Alcibiades lifted her head, and gave her water. "You look better," he said. "Most of the color has returned to your face."

  "I am feeling better," she replied. "How is your leg?"

  "Fine. I have been cut much more savagely than this."

  "I think I can walk now," Ampharete said.

  "Good timing." Alcibiades smiled. "We will soon be on the sea, where you can recline and take your ease."

  * * *

  The three approached the small ship on the river tributary a little later. Ampharete not only had her color but her legs back.

  Two men stood guard, and started talking to Heron when the party arrived.

  "What is that language?" Alcibiades asked Ampharete.

  She started to answer, then hesitated.

  "It is Latin," Heron replied. "A language spoken on the mainland north of Sicily."

  "Near Roma?" Alcibiades asked. "I have heard it mentioned but never spoken."

  "Yes, Roma," Heron replied.

  "Will speakers of this language be important in ... the future?" Alcibiades asked.

  "Yes, very much so."

  "Is their world the one in which you constructed the chairs?"

  "No," Heron replied. "Most of their world was gone a long time, by then."

  * * *

  One of the guards took the wheeled contraption to the ship. Heron followed, to complete arrangements for the voyage.

  The other guard stayed near Alcibiades and Ampharete. He kept watch at a respectful distance.

  "He is not only here to protect us, but to prevent us from leaving Heron and his plans," Alcibiades muttered.

  "You would fight ten of them if they tried to prevent your going with Heron, would you not?" Ampharete countered.

  Alcibiades nodded. "He told me strange stories about traveling across time in special chairs. Are they true?"

  "I do not know what he told you," Ampharete replied. "But yes, I came to this time in a special chair."

  "Tricksters in time," Alcibiades said, with a slight smile. Then his eyes narrowed. "You are weeping." He reached out to her face.

  She turned away and rubbed her eyes. "I am sorry...."

  "I know," Alcibiades said gently. "This has been very trying...."

  She shook her head. "I lost someone, earlier...." She swiveled around and took his hand. Then she kissed him on the mouth, suddenly, passionately.... "Was that a trick?"

  "You would know better than I."

  "You are a very intelligent man."

  Alcibiades smiled ruefully. "My mentor, Socrates, used to say I was his most intelligent student."

  "I think my mentor, Thomas O'Leary, is the smartest man I ever knew.... Though I could be wrong .... Sometimes murkiness of motives can be mistaken for intelligence."

  "Did you make that up, or did Thomas?"

  "I am pretty sure I just did," Ampharete replied.

  "What is unclear about your mentor?" Alcibiades asked.

  "Why he drew me into this."

  "You do not know? You did not ask him? You do not strike me as shy about extracting information."

  "He was already gone when I started to pursue this," Ampharete answered.

  "He travels through time, too?"

  "Perhaps -- I think so. All I know is he disappeared on a boat in the Aegean, in my time."

  "Is he the one who--"

  "No," Ampharete replied. "I was speaking of someone who was ... murdered before my very eyes." Her eyes welled again with tears. "I have not spoken to anyone else of this."

  "I understand." Alcibiades stroked her shoulder. "We will be traveling in the Aegean soon." He looked off a long distance, in space and time .... He turned back to Ampharete. "You and Heron are similar in more ways than one -- you both devote your lives to a plan whose creator you do not know."

  He pulled her close, and kissed her again... "But perhaps that is true of all of us, in every time."

  * * *

  The trip to Miletus was unexceptional. This time, all the passengers -- other than the guards -- did get some genuine sleep. They debarked and boarded a larger boat across the Aegean Sea to Piraeus, the port of Athens.

  Heron resumed his sleep; Alcibiades and Ampharete their conversation.

  "Do you know where in this sea your Thomas vanished?" Alcibiades looked west in the moonlight.

  Ampharete shook her head. "The announcement I heard was brief. More than enough to alarm me. Too little for much else."

  "Hermes was taunting you."

  "That is as good a way as any to describe the manner in which most information is conveyed to the public, in my time."

  "Socrates would say the public deserves to be misinformed, that the very notion of usefully informing the masses is an oxymoron," Alcibiades observed.

  "Why is that?"

  "Because he thinks people are incapable of truly knowing," Alcibiades replied. "Therefore it is pointless to inform them. Attempts to do so can lead to harm."

  "No one can know anything?" Ampharete asked.

  "Well, Socrates think philosophers, at least, can know many things ... and so should always strive for knowledge."

  "Sounds like Plato," Ampharete said.

  "Ah, Plato again? I understand from our friend Heron that Plato has ha
d quite an impact upon your future. Yet, from what little I know of him, it is a borrowed impact -- he received that thought about the fundamental impossibility of educating most people directly from Socrates. I was there when Socrates said it."

  "And what did you think of it?"

  "I am not sure," Alcibiades replied. "People are stupid. There is no doubt about that. But there can be an odd glory in the average person, in the aggregate of humanity, even so..."

  * * *

  They passed by Icaria, Myconos, Delos. Alcibiades called out each of their names to Ampharete. Heron awoke to make navigational observations and adjustments. He conversed in Latin with his guards, scribbled some notes to himself, then returned to sleep.

  Ampharete stared at the islands and the sea. The moon was bright enough to give them definition.

  "Still wondering if Thomas is out there, somewhere in the future?" Alcibiades asked.

  "Yes, but I was also thinking, this is likely the closest I will ever get to Homer..."

  Alcibiades smiled wistfully. "That is Cynthos ahead, Andros to the north, and Athens--"

  "Andros?" Ampharete interrupted.

  "Yes, the north part of the island is nearly parallel with Athens. Surely it is known in your time, though perhaps by a different name?"

  "No, we know it by that name."

  "But that island has some special significance to you?"

  "It is the name of the visitor from the future, in the dialog you and Heron were speaking of, who proposes the escape to Socrates, " Ampharete replied.

  Alcibiades turned his head and looked north. "People often adopt names from their places of birth, or even a favorite part of the world.... It is tempting to investigate that island."

  Ampharete looked in its direction.... "No," she finally said to Alcibiades, "I think our safest course now is to return to Athens and the chairs...."

  "You are concerned about my safety?"

  "Yes," Ampharete said, "but not only that. You have been set free from your fate in Phrygia. History -- the history I know -- says nothing about what happened to you after that night, because on that night you died. The less we diverge from that history, the better. There is no point in courting divergence with an expedition to the island."

  Alcibiades considered. "Are we not risking much more with my return to Athens? People know me in Athens."