by Gene Wolfe
"Although we are proud to champion the interests of these hardworking citizens, and their wives and children, they're by no means our only supporters. You yourself, Zihrun, and you, noble Hegesistratus, are yourselves far from their lowly, though absolutely necessary and valuable, class; nor would anyone count either of you among the naval mob's surly loiterers. You're men of breeding and learning, and it is we and not Themistocles, who is a man of mean birth and small education (though I scruple to say it), who represent the best families in Thought."
Themistocles fidgeted upon the stone bench in a way that showed him eager to speak, and Cimon rose as if to make sure he retained the floor.
"Nor are those all. The virtue of a city does not reside in its best families; however excellent their stock, they are too few. Nor does it lie in the poor, who cannot fight unless some other feeds them. No, it is in the craftsmen, the skilled artisans, the worthy merchants, and the independent freeholders that true arete is found. They are the defenders of the city, and even Themistocles cannot deny that they are ours."
Themistocles applauded derisively.
"You will say now that it was not defended when the Great King came, and you will be right. Our sheep and our goats and our cattle were driven off, our horses stolen, our poultry and swine devoured, our crops destroyed, the tombs of our ancestors and the temples of our gods desecrated, and our city burned to the ground. All that is perfectly true. All that took place because the resources of our city were unwisely diverted from its army to the ships. And none of it can be permitted to take place again, or we shall be ruined utterly. The land must be defended! If the Long Coast were an island, you would hear me speaking in support of Themistocles. It is not."
Themistocles rolled his eyes. "Are you through at last, young man?"
"Why, no." Cimon sat down again. "My career has scarcely begun, and I intend to be polemarch myself before I'm through. But I've said what I had to say for the present, if that's what you mean."
"Good." Themistocles leaned toward us with the look of a man never more in earnest. "Then let me say that you spoke the truth when you said I was of humble birth—I am. My grandfather was a silver miner, and my father also worked in the mines for a time. As for learning, isn't it a matter of what a man learns? What do you Medes learn, Zihrun? You're an educated Mede, as my young friend pointed out. What does a Mede's education consist of?"
"One learns how to honor the gods," the man we had called Oeobazus told him, "most of all, how to honor Ahura Mazda, who is the god of gods; and to ride, to shoot with the bow, and to tell the truth."
Themistocles nodded as though what he had heard had merely confirmed what he had already known. "A very good education, I would say. Cimon here can play the lyre quite well, and he's a fine singer. You'll hear him tonight, I feel sure. As for me, I know how to make a city great."
Hegesistratus began, "You spoke of the Rope Makers—"
Themistocles silenced him with an upraised hand. "And I shall have much more to say about them soon. But before I do, I must make certain that our friend from the east understands one thing. It's that though we differ, we are alike in our devotion to Thought. As you may know, we have the custom of ostracizing politicians—Xanthippos, Cimon, and I are all politicians, you understand—who are considered too divisive. We send them away, without dishonor, for a specified number of years. But when the Great King's army came, I called all those who'd been ostracized home and gave them commands. They served the city well, as I knew they would.
"Xanthippos, Cimon, are you with me in everything we're doing today? Do you agree that all of us shall work for the good of Thought?"
Both nodded, and Cimon added, "We do."
"Do you pledge yourselves to hold in strictest confidence everything we say here today, provided I share whatever I can learn with you? To do everything in your power for Zihrun and the rest? And particularly for—" Themistocles glanced toward Hypereides.
"Latro," Hypereides supplied.
"For Latro?"
Both nodded again. Xanthippos said, "You have our hands on it, all of you."
"And mine." Themistocles paused; the warm breath of spring sighed in the newly green boughs, and though birds trilled there, it was so quiet I could hear the men taking down the wall beside the road talking at their work.
"I'm afraid that's as much assurance as we can provide you, Zihrun," Themistocles said, "but it's better than the word of a king. If I fall from power—and I will eventually, you can be sure—Xanthippos or Aristides will become polemarch. Aristides couldn't be here in person—Cimon's his representative. But I swear there isn't a man who walks on earth less likely to betray somebody it's his duty to look out for than Aristides. There're a few of us who're just as honorable as any Mede, and he's their chief. Notice that it's me, his enemy, who says that. I think he's wrong about a lot of things. I believe he's misguided, and the whole Twelve know he's pigheaded. But if the shieldmen have sworn to protect you, and they have, Aristides would die to save you.
"Now listen to me, all of you. I'm not going to threaten you—I know free men can't be checked long by threats. But if this were the Empire or any other tyranny, you might very well be strangled tonight to keep Zihrun safe. Hypereides, didn't you say Latro's got a bad memory?"
Hypereides nodded. "He forgets everything in a day or so."
"Then he must learn to forget faster. Any of you who still remember what Zihrun used to be called must forget it at once." Themistocles pointed toward the black man. "Hypereides says you don't speak our tongue, but you seem to have understood what I've been saying. What's the name of that man beside you, the one with the beard?"
"Zihrun," the black man told him.
"Hegesistratus, why did Hypereides send you to Thrace?"
Hegesistratus answered smoothly, "To assure King Kotys and his people of the continued friendship of Thought. King Kotys—that particular King Kotys—is now deceased, alas. But his son, a child dear to the gods, has his crown. And his son's advisers have sent many tokens of their goodwill."
Themistocles nodded, satisfied. "What about you, Latro? Why were you sent to Thrace?"
I told him quite honestly that I had not known I had ever been there.
Hypereides said, "Don't any of you forget. If anybody asks you about Oeobazus, we heard he was sacrificed to Pleistorus. We didn't see it ourselves because we weren't there at the time. It's just what we were told."
Xanthippos glanced at the sun, as a man does who wishes to judge just how much of the day remains. "I think we can get on with it,
Themistocles. Latro, are you and your friend aware of your legal status here?"
I told him I could speak only for myself, but that I had assumed we were foreign visitors. I knew we were no Hellenes.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Io Weeps
WHILE I WAS WRITING WHAT stands above this, Polos came wanting to talk of chariots and horses. I made him wash, then spoke with him as he wished.
Io has brought a bouquet of apple blossoms. Not many have opened yet, she says, but she found a few; and some of them that Elata broke in the bud opened while she held them, which seems strange. I explained to them that we are going to Rope tomorrow with Themistocles, and that has made Io very unhappy. She says the Rope Makers are cruel men who cannot be trusted, and indeed Hegesistratus says the same; thus it may be wise to record here everything else we said under the tree.
Xanthippos and Hypereides explained to the black man and me that under the laws of Thought we are Hypereides's slaves, having been given to him as prisoners of war by the city of Tower Hill. (I must ask Io about this.)
"I was planning to sell you to Kalleos," Hypereides said, "and I wrote her a bill of sale. I was to get five parties in return, with up to ten guests. But since I've only had one so far, you haven't actually changed hands, understand?"
I nodded, and so did the black man.
"I can see you don't like the idea of being slaves, and I don't blame you for that, I w
ouldn't myself. What we've worked out here—Xanthippos, Themistocles, Cimon, and me—is a legal mechanism for freeing you both. It's simple for the black man, but for you things get complicated because Prince Pausanias is claiming you."
He glanced at Themistocles for confirmation; Themistocles nodded.
"Some of Pausanias's men took you away from Kalleos, see? And while we were in Sestos, she applied to him for compensation and got it. You can understand the prince's position—he paid for you in good faith, and we've got you. He feels we ought to return you to him."
On behalf of the black man and myself, I told Hypereides that he would have neither of us long.
"That won't be necessary. I said we'd worked something out— weren't you listening? I got word of this the day we landed, and I talked to Xanthippos about it as soon as I'd let him know about—about our trip to Thrace."
Xanthippos smiled. "You see, Latro, I believe strongly in assisting those who have assisted me, and Hypereides had a great deal to say about what happened in the palace, though perhaps we shouldn't speak of that here. I enlisted Cimon in your cause—he has some useful connections in Rope—and Hypereides enlisted Themistocles. You mustn't imagine that Pausanias is an ordinary Rope Maker. He represents the old Lacedaemonian aristocracy, or what's left of it, and he's both a reasonable and a magnanimous man."
Seeing that Xanthippos had finished, Hypereides said, "So here's where we stand. I'll free the black man for two minas, the money to be paid whenever he has it. Is that all right?"
The black man hesitated, then nodded.
"And I renounce any claim on you, Latro. So does Kalleos—I talked to her about it today and paid her a little something. Themistocles is going to Rope, where they want to honor him for what he's done in the war. You'll go with him—Io, too. When you get there, Pausanias will free you and declare you a resident of Rope—not an actual Rope Maker, you understand, but an alien living there and a free man. You'll be his subject, of course; he's the Agid Regent. But you'll be nobody's slave."
I asked if I would be permitted to leave Rope to search for my home.
Cimon said, "Certainly, at any time. It's only the Equals who can't leave without the permission of the judges. [The Homoioi, who could vote in the assembly and hold office. Latro seems to have been declared aperioikos, a "neighbor."—GW] As an alien resident, you'll be able to travel and even to trade; and if anyone anywhere tries to harm you, you'll be able to claim the protection of your city."
The polemarch, who had been watching me narrowly, asked, "Will you do it? Come to Rope with me?"
I shrugged. "Would you, in my place?"
He actually seemed to consider it for a moment, rubbing his heavy jaw, then nodded.
"Hegesistratus? Will you advise me?"
"Reluctantly. I know you don't remember it, but you read a fairly lengthy passage from your old book to me once. In it the regent told you that you were no longer to be his slave but his friend."
I felt then as though a heavy burden had been lifted from my shoulders.
"He sounded sincere, or at least it seemed you thought he did," Hegesistratus continued, "and it is only fair for me to tell you that. Nevertheless, my advice is that you should not go."
Then I wished to ask Io, but I—a grown man taking counsel with others—was ashamed to ask the advice of a child. I asked the black man instead, and he spoke to Hegesistratus.
"Seven Lions wishes to learn whether he is now free," the mantis said.
Hypereides nodded. "I have to give you a paper, and you have to sign one. But those are just formalities."
The black man spoke again, and Hegesistratus said, "Then he advises Latro to go, provided Themistocles permits him to go as well. Themistocles?"
The polemarch nodded. "Certainly. Will you come, Latro?"
"Yes," I said. "You have my word on it."
Cimon, particularly, appeared to relax after I had spoken. He smiled and gave me his hand.
"Which leaves no one but Elata and me to be disposed of," Hegesistratus said, "and we should not be much trouble."
Just then one of Cimon's household slaves came and spoke briefly to Cimon, who said to Themistocles, "Simonides is here, with the others. He says they've brought everything."
"Good. We'll start in the morning. Hegesistratus, I hope you understand that my party can't make further use of you here. You were with the Great King, so we'd be handing Xanthippos and Aristides a weapon. Your connection with Hypereides is ended."
"I understand, and I regret it," the mantis said. "It has been a fortunate connection for me."
"And for me," Hypereides put in. "I regret it, too." Themistocles asked, "Any bad feelings? Do you think you've been misused in any way?"
"No, I do not," Hegesistratus assured him. "Precisely the contrary." "Hypereides says you have sufficient funds. If that's not the case, I can arrange something."
Hegesistratus waved the offer away. "Doubtless you would tell Zihrun that no Hellene can refuse money, but the truth is that we are quite comfortable. We will take passage on a ship bound for Zakunthios as soon as I can find a decent one; I have a house there. After that, to Dolphins, perhaps."
Cimon came here to speak with me. He began by asking the children the name of the Mede. I had already told them about that, and both answered, "Zihrun, sir." He asked whether they were certain, and they repeated, "Zihrun," after which he sent them away, saying we wished to be alone.
When they had gone, he began by thanking me for agreeing to go to Rope as Prince Pausanias had asked. "It would have put me in a very embarrassing position if you hadn't," he told me. "We had men standing by to overpower you if necessary—Themistocles insisted on it—but how would it have looked, when I'd persuaded the prince to free you? And Themistocles's gang might have used the entire business against me; they were my men. If he were to report that we had stolen the slave of a citizen, that slippery trader would back him to the hilt."
I said that if his men had succeeded in overpowering me, I would certainly have been grateful to Hypereides for anything he did to free me.
"I suppose so. There's actually a fairly strong argument for holding that you're a free man already, do you know that?"
"No," I told him. "But I'd like very much to hear it."
"You two were captured by the Rope Makers after the Battle of Clay," he explained. "Nobody disputes that. The Rope Makers handed you over to Tower Hill for some reason, and their people gave you to Hypereides. You were mercenaries, weren't you? You and the black man?"
I said that I thought so.
"All right. But a couple from Hill were captured with you; and you have that little slave from Cowland. It turns out that the man was Pindaros, son of Pagondas, a member of one of their leading families who's been making a name for himself as a poet. He's claiming that at the time you were captured you were not employed by the barbarians directly, but by him on behalf of his city. If that view were accepted, we'd have to send you back to Hill under the terms of the peace Rope forced upon us."
I jumped up, I confess, when he said this, and strode back and forth exulting. I did not feel myself a slave even when we met under the tree, and now that feeling has been vindicated.
"The question was how much pressure this Pindaros could get the oligarchs of Hill to bring on behalf of a mercenary," Cimon continued, "though no matter how much they brought, we couldn't have given in to it. Their city's unpopular here, and it would have severely damaged our relations with Rope. As things stand now, I've chalked up a minor diplomatic triumph. Aristides and Xanthippos acknowledge it. Xanthippos and his son are staying over for dinner, by the way; so are Hegesistratus and his wife."
I said that I was glad of that, for I am by no means eager to be parted from Hegesistratus, and Io and the black man like him, I know.
"Themistocles and his retinue will be there, too, of course. We'll eat in the courtyard; I think we've seen the end of the rains for another year. Then tomorrow you'll be traveling with Themistocle
s. I wish I could come along with you—I like Rope—but it wouldn't look right. I came here, really, to caution you about Themistocles."
I said that I realized he was a powerful man here.
"He is, and a crafty one. Do you remember how he asked the mantis about the Thracian god?"
I nodded. Though I know I forget, I have not yet forgotten that.
"His mother was a Thracian, just as mine was. He knows the country backward and forward; he even speaks a little Thracian to the ambassadors sent by their kings. If you lie to him about Thrace, or try to hide anything, he'll know it."
That did not seem to be the right moment to explain that I have forgotten Thrace, so I held my peace.
"And I wanted to give you this letter. Do you read our tongue? You speak it well."
I shook my head.
"Then I'll read it to you. It's to one of the judges—his name's Cyklos." Cimon took the letter from his chiton and read: "To Cyklos son of Anthes, Cimon the son of Miltiades sends his greetings. Latro, who bears this, deserves well of you and of us. Shield him from every harm, good Cyklos, lest we are both disgraced."
I thanked Cimon for this introduction and asked him to add a request that the judge help me return to my home, which Cimon has promised to do. He will have a servant bring me the letter again, and I intend to roll it up in my old scroll.
That is all of importance that has happened today, though I might add that this farm of Cimon's is indeed a beautiful place. The house is a double square, with many rooms. There are three large barns besides the stables, all limed as white as the house and in excellent repair. The garden I described earlier I think very lovely, but the meadows beyond it are at least equally so. Over their rich grass the foals romp as joyfully, and almost as awkwardly, as Polos himself. When I talked with the laborers taking down the wall, they said that Cimon's father had been a great man; there was no need to tell me—I had seen it already. The stones from the wall are to be carted to Thought and cast into the marsh between Thought and Tieup, where Themistocles and Cimon wish to build a long wall to defend the city. I asked how Cimon intended to keep travelers from stealing his fruit. The laborers said that he will allow them to take it.
