by David Alkek
"Are you scared that you might have to fight another boy?"
"I don't think so. I fought with my brothers many times."
Aristippus laughed. "Yes, you have. Your mother has washed dirt and blood from your young bodies many a time."
They entered the door and Phidias ran shouting to his mother. "Mama, Papa's home."
Aristippus watched him go, proud that he was becoming older and going to school. Proud he was a healthy, smart, and happy child, but troubled with the feeling that the future that he was growing into was uncertain.
Chapter 2
Soon after Phidias sixth birthday, his father took him into the city, where he would live while he attended school. His father could afford to send him to one of the best schoolmasters in Athens. Since the teachers were paid, they had to prove that they could teach their charges the basics of reading, arithmetic, music, and gymnastics. They also had the responsibility of developing the moral character and discipline of these boys. Girls did not attend school, but were instructed at home by their mothers.
Schoolmasters had wide latitude in their teaching methods and had absolute authority. They maintained a strict discipline, sometimes with the aid of a sandal or a birch rod.
Before Phidias was accompanied by a slave and Meletus to his school, Aristippus sat down on a bench and spoke with him. "Listen to the schoolmaster, my son. Do as he says and pay attention. If you do, you won't get into trouble and he won't whip you. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Papa." Phidias had heard from Meletus how strict some of the teachers were. Some were known to whip boys until their backs bled. "I'll do everything he says, Papa. I'll be good. I don't want a whipping." His eyes showed a fear of the unknown.
"Then off you go, Phidias. Learn well and make me proud of you."
"I will, Papa." He left, as every other boy in every other time, with mixed feelings of joy and fear, as he skipped off to his first day of school.
When Phidias was about eight, the teacher caught one of the boys cheating. "Oneiros, son of Medias, stand up," the teacher commanded. "I observed you cheating. Come up to the front of the class and take off your chiton."
The boy did as he was told, standing naked in front of his class with his head bowed in shame. "Phidias and Glaucon, come up and help me," the teacher said. "Glaucon, turn your back to Oneiros. Oneiros, you hold on to Glaucon's shoulders. Phidias, take hold of Oneiros’ ankles." They obeyed and the teacher then flogged the boy across his back with a birch stick until it drew blood. The disciplined boy whimpered as tears ran down his face. He did not cry out, however, for he knew that the other boys would tease him later as a coward if he did so.
There was no sympathy from the other boys, for they all knew that he was receiving the expected punishment for cheating. Athenians were taught to be good bargainers and astute politicians, but dishonesty was not tolerated. The lesson was not lost on Phidias, and the others, and there was no more cheating under that master.
Like all the boys, Phidias played with hoops, marbles, and stuffed balls. At about the age of ten, he began to play a game called astrali, which consisted of cubic knuckle bones with numbers on them. The object was to toss a pair of these dice and add up the numbers on top. The boys wagered their marbles or other toys against one another, just as their elders did for money.
One summer day, Phidias joined a group of boys playing astrali outside the school. The sun was turning the bare backs of the players a richer tan as they watched the dice being tossed on the hard ground. Phidias noticed that one of the boys, a loudmouthed bully named Leontas, was winning more than any other. He was about a year older than most of the others, and had a lot of marbles and balls in front of him. Phidias watched Leontas carefully, and observed that he handled and threw the astrali in such a way as to influence their fall.
As Leontas was about to toss the dice, Phidias grabbed his hand. "You're cheating," he yelled.
Leontas jerked his hand out of Phidias’ grasp and hit him in the mouth, splitting his lip. "You dare call me a cheat," he screamed into his face. "Shut your mouth or I'll shut it for you. If you don't like the way I play, then go find another game. You call me a cheat again, I'll beat you up."
Phidias left, holding his hand to his bleeding lip. He washed his face at a fountain and walked home in silence, resentment simmering inside him at the injustice and humiliation he had suffered.
At dinner that night, Phidias poked absently at his food, while his father and his older brother talked of the day's happenings. At one point, Aristippus turned to his son and said, "Phidias, you have been very quiet. And that's not like the bright boy I know who is always asking questions. What is bothering you?"
"Nothing, Papa."
"I notice that you have a split and swollen lip. What happened? Did you get in a fight?"
"He probably got hit and ran away like a coward," said his brother.
"Quiet, Meletus," his father commanded. "Phidias, tell me exactly what happened."
Phidias told him the whole story with the cheating bully. His father listened without comment, slowly nodding his head, as his younger son described his embarrassment.
After he finished, his father stroked his beard and said, "You will be faced with people like that your whole life, and you will have to learn to deal with them. If you give into their bullying or flee like a coward, that will only encourage them to do it again and again. You must stand up to them. If you are weaker than they are, then you must gain allies. That is what Athens does if she must fight Sparta or Thebes."
"What should I do, Papa?"
"You have to recover the honor that you lost when Leontas hit you, and you did not defend yourself in front of the other boys. You're a smart fellow, so I'm sure that you will find a way. I have confidence that you can do it."
The next day, Phidias gathered together three of his friends, while they were at gymnastics. They had all suffered from the bullying of Leontas. Phidias told them of his experience and showed his split lip.
"I know, I was there and saw it," said one. "Why didn't you hit him back, Phidias?"
"Because he is bigger, and would have beaten me up. He would bully everyone even more and get away with it. We have to stop him."
"But how?" said another friend. "He's bigger than we are."
"We have to work together. We have to become allies, like the other cities do when they have to fight Sparta. I have a plan."
After the teacher dismissed them for the day, the four of them waited until Leontas came down the street. Phidias confronted him, while the others surrounded the boy. "What you want, another bloody lip?" Leontas showed his fist to Phidias.
"No, I want to give you one, you bully." With that as a signal, the four pounced on Leontas. Phidias punched him in the eye, which caused him to fall to the ground, with his hands over his face. He was whimpering, "don't hit me anymore." All bullies are cowards at heart. Other students had gathered around and were laughing at him.
Phidias stood over him. "Now you know how it feels to be on the receiving end. You better not bully me or any of my friends again or we’ll give it to you worse than this." After that they heard no more of Leontas, for he had begged his father to send him to another school.
By the age of sixteen, Athenian boys were expected to pay more attention to physical development. This had been a constant theme throughout Greek history, preparing their youth for the rigors of war, which was their ever present reality. Their sports in particular were militarily related. They had to run, often long distances, carrying a spear and shield. They had to jump, wrestle, hurl the javelin, and of course ride a horse and hunt.
Phidias worked hard at developing his strength and endurance. He was not as heavy and athletic as his older brother, who often teased him about being smaller. He developed his strength by lifting and carrying large stones. He ran long distances in the winter, often carrying a shield on his back. In the summer months he swam in the ocean. He gained a reputation as a strong swimmer, and oft
en taught other youths how to swim. Twice he saved the lives of men who were drowning.
During an exercise one day in the palaestra next to the gymnasium, Phidias was fighting with a wooden sword and shield against another youth. He could see that the other boy had sharpened the end of his sword instead of the usual rounded edge that everyone was supposed to use. His name was Hippias, and was of Phidias' age.
"Ho Phidias, I hear that you are proud of your skill with a sword. Let's see what you can do against me."
"I’ll take that challenge,” said Phidias. “I can see that point on your sword, but I'm not afraid of it. In fact, I intend to crack your skull under that leather cap."
The boys thrust, parried, and blocked until the dust they kicked up coated their sweaty bodies. Both showed their skill and stamina, while Phidias carefully avoided the sharpened sword. Suddenly Hippias pushed his shield against Phidias', and then raised his sword as if to hit him on the head. Instead, Hippias thrust his shield under Phidias shield, lifting it up. He then thrust his sword under his shield, aiming his point at Phidias' exposed genitals.
Phidias anticipated the maneuver and came down hard with his sword, inside his own shield, on Hippias’ extended forearm. They both heard a crack as Hippias howled and dropped his sword. He threw off his shield and knelt down, grabbing at his broken arm. Tears streamed down his youthful face.
One of the instructors who had been watching the duel came over to the stricken Hippias. "I saw your fight,” he said, "and I congratulate you, Phidias, for your courage and skill against his sharpened sword. Let's take Hippias over to the gymnasium where I can treat his arm."
After splinting and bandaging Hippias' arm, the instructor said, "It will heal fine. You'll be able to use it again, but not for the next two months. You may not wrestle, or fight with the sword, or throw the javelin, but you must still run, and jump and ride."
Hippias later told Phidias that he was sorry that he had tried to injure him. "I accept your apology," said Phidias, "and I'm sorry that I broke your arm."
"I guess I deserved it. Will you be my friend? I promise to be yours, if you agree."
They clasped hands and embraced, sealing a friendship that would last. They fought side by side in exercises and confrontations from then on.
When he was seventeen, in his last year at the school, Phidias had just finished an afternoon of wrestling, throwing the javelin and mock combat. He and some of his classmates walked over to where they had left their clothes on benches under the portico outside the gymnasium.
They continued laughing and ribbing one another as they scraped the sweat and oil from their bodies with stirgils. After they had finished cleaning and cooling off, they put on their short tunics.
"Let's go down to the port, Phidias," Hippias said to his friend. "There's always something happening down at Piraeus. Maybe a ship has brought in some pretty new slave girls for sale. Of course we can always visit the pornai."
"You're always thinking about girls and sex," replied Phidias. "I know you're seventeen, but why do you want to visit the cheapest brothels in Athens? Don't you have slave girls at home?"
"My father won't let me touch them. He keeps them for himself and my older brothers. Anyway, what will it hurt? If we can’t afford to pay pornai, we can always examine the goods. You know, they hardly wear any clothes. That's why they’re called gymnai, naked."
Phidias turned to some other older youths. "Come on fellows. Let's go with Hippias down to Piraeus and try to keep him from making a fool of himself."
The other boys laughed and one said, "Yeah, we may have to protect him in case we run into some wharf rats, or students from other schools."
The busy road to the port less than five miles away was plied with merchants, farmers, and tradesmen. The boys filled the time with good-natured joking and jabbing one another. As they entered the precincts of the port, the crowds got thicker, the sounds louder, and the smells more offensive. They wandered around the market marveling at the variety. Open stalls displayed a colored cornucopia of fruits and vegetables; freshly caught fish swam in barrels of sea water; terra-cotta jars filled with wine or oils sat in rows; and the rolls of multihued red, gold, green and blue cloth spilled out over tables. There were men hawking gold and silver jewelry, precious stones, amulets for good luck or successful lovemaking, and foods of all sorts.
The students were fascinated by the riot of color and objects, continuously joking and pointing out things to one another. Words painted on the houses indicated the services provided inside. On the walkway in front of them was painted an arrow pointing ahead with the statement “beautiful pornai”. Eventually they found themselves in a small open area with a raised platform at one end. "It's the slave market. Let's see if they have anything interesting," said Hippias.
"You mean young girls, don't you?" Phidias laughed. They pushed their way closer as a large black male was led off the platform. "He's probably from Nubia. The men from there are known to have large phalluses. Look at his. Wouldn't you like to have one like that instead of your little thing, Hippias?"
He hit Phidias on his arm. "At least I use mine, instead of making love to myself, like you do."
"Shut up fellows. Look what they're bringing up to sell," exclaimed one of the others. Indeed, a group of five females aged about twelve to nineteen were led onto the platform. All slaves were exhibited nude, so any serious buyer could examine the goods as they would animals for sale. The girls were of olive skin, flawless in youth, with dark eyes and long black hair falling across their shoulders and back. Their firm bodies shone in the sun, pert breasts pointing their nipples as if advertising their fertile youth.
"I wish I could get my hands on those," rasped Hippias. "Too bad they won't let us touch them."
"Those dark beauties must be from Syria or Egypt," said Phidias.
"As a matter of fact, they are from Rhodes," said the slave auctioneer. "They were sold by their parents to pay off debts. What am I bid for these beauties?"
"I would give you ten drachmas for them, but first I want to feel their flesh."
"Shut up, Hippias. You don't have any money," said one of the other boys.
"Maybe not, but I would bet they would enjoy my hands running over their bodies, someone as handsome and virile as me."
"You're full of offal, Athenian pig," yelled a young man from a group to their right.
"What do you know, son of an ass?"
"I’m from Rhodes, and we attend the school of Isocrates. I say, you smell like the fish from Piraeus. You probably act like one in bed, too." The group of students next to him guffawed and made rude gestures at Hippias.
Phidias came to Hippias' defense. "Are we going to take that from a bunch of foreign students? Let's show them how Athenians defend themselves."
With a yell, Phidias and his friends fell on the group from Isocrates' school. Fists flew, stones were thrown, and a stick or two found to beat heads.
"Look out Phidias," Hippias yelled, as he blocked a stick from a youth about to hit his friend.
"Thanks," said Phidias. He and his friend ran together at two of the other students knocking them over. The two helped each other up and fought back to back, defending one another.
After a time, the general melee and individual fights tapered off as the bruised and dirty boys gathered around two older boys who had squared off.
Herodus, the largest and most athletic Athenian, and a large youth from the other group had thrown off their tunics so as not to tear or dirty them and faced off, circling for an opening. They grappled with each other, wrestled, hit, and kicked one another, until blood ran down their faces. All was fair except biting or hitting the genitals.
The youths from each side yelled their support to their champion. A group of bystanders also gathered to watch the fight. At last Herodus had the other youth down, mounting his back and beating his head into the ground. The youth lay motionless as blood oozed from his nose. Herodus rose and said, "He lives, but with
a few scars to show for his battle with Athenians. Anyone else care to challenge me?"
The young men from Isocrates' school did not answer him, but helped their bruised and battered comrade back to Athens.
Phidias and his companions dusted themselves off, washed off the blood and dirt at a fountain, and started back to the city. They had enough of a good time in Piraeus, and no one was thinking of girls or sex anymore.
Phidias looked at Hippias and put his arm around his shoulder. "Looks like your lip is busted and swollen, but I don't see any cuts on your face. You'll still have your good looks for the girls." He smiled at his friend.
"Thanks, one of my teeth is loose, but I gave it back to the guy who hit me. He had a bloody nose. I hope we see them again. I'll give him more than a bloody nose next time."
"Boy, Herodus really took care of the big guy," said Euthyphro, the youngest of the group.
"Are you all right, Euthyphro?" asked one of the others.
"Yeah, I picked up a stick to protect myself, but not before one of them tore my tunic. It was my best one. My mother will kill me."
"Better your tunic than your head.”
They all laughed and joked their way back home, recounting blow-by-blow their recent battle. Retelling would get more embellishment each time it was repeated at home and at the school.
Chapter 3
At eighteen, Phidias was admitted into the second of the four stages of the Athenian life, which consisted of child, youth, man, and elder. For the next four years, he would be a member of the epheboi, the soldier youth. He would belong to a regiment that lived together in barracks. Organized as a community with its own government, the epheboi would be trained in their duties as a soldier and as a citizen.
During his first year, he was allowed a visit to his family. Phidias showed off his distinctive uniform with pride. He had been issued a leather breastplate, which he wore over his short chiton, that reached only to his mid-thigh. He carried his brass helmet, but left his shin-protecting greaves at the barracks.
His father embraced him, "I am proud of you, my son; you will make a fine soldier." He knew that Phidias had good stamina and athletic skills, but he was still too thin. He had to gain more muscle if he was to be successful on the battlefield.
