The Flowers of Adonis by Rosemary Sutcliff
‘It can’t,’ said Alkibiades’ voice behind me. ‘I’ve just been up that way. What wind there is is carrying it in the wrong direction. It’s pretty, isn’t it?’
‘If you can call the howling of a wolf pack pretty,’ said Dion, who was literal minded.
And Cleomenes, Trirarch of the Clytemnestra, said, ‘I’ve heard them sing that song before. One of the tame tribesmen told me what it meant. It’s all about the gold they’re going to gather and the wine they’re going to drink, and what they’re going to do to the boys and women when they get into the city.’
‘And that,’ said Alkibiades lazily, ‘is why I have made careful arrangements that they shall not get inside the gates.’
I said — Apollo Far Shooter knows why, for whether I would or no, I loved the man — ‘My mother’s brother was at Melos. You weren’t troubled by such considerations then, My Lord Alkibiades.’
And he looked round and up at me from where he had let himself down to sprawl in the soft sand beside the fire. ‘Melos needed a lesson. Other purposes, other methods, Arkadius; at the moment we are rebuilding a lost empire.’ He was so completely at ease and unashamed as to who had lost it, that none of us were embarrassed. And then he said, ‘Is there any wine left?’ We all apologised, and Cleomenes picked up the amphora and poured what was left into Ariston’s cup, which happened to be the first to hand, and gave it to him.
He was just throwing back his head to drink, when he checked, his eyes widening in the direction of the city. Then he lowered the cup again, and said, ‘There’s no star due to rise over Selymbria at this hour, is there?’
I whipped round to look in the same direction, the others with me; and there, above the whispering tamarisk tops, on the dark edge of things, where we knew the city must be, a thing like a star but redder and more fitful, had pricked out in the night.
We were all on our feet by then, staring the same way. Ariston said, ‘They’re an hour too soon.’ Cleomenes, who was famed throughout the fleet for his gifts in that direction, was cursing in a soft sustained flow.
Alkibiades was already loosening his sword in its sheath. I heard the rasp of it. ‘Time enough for that later,’ he said. ‘Now, we have other things to attend to.’
‘The men aren’t ready yet, sir,’ somebody said; and somebody else, ‘The fools must be drunk.’
‘Drunk, or misjudging the time, or simply scared — or up against trouble, with something gone wrong,’ said Alkibiades. ‘In any case we can’t sit back and leave them to it. Besides, if we delay and they are discovered, we shall find a poor welcome when we get there, and the gate shut in our faces.’
I wondered for an instant, as one does wonder things when it really isn’t the time, whether he had any thought of Messana.
He swung round to shout for his trumpeter, then back to us about the fire. ‘Ariston, you’re ready. Cleomenes, Arkadius, rout out any of your men who are yet fully armed; the rest to follow as quickly as possible. Name of the Dog! Don’t gape, man! Here, you and you —’
In the end he had about thirty of us. Thirty, so far as I could see to take Selymbria with whatever help (if any) was waiting for us inside, and hold it till the rest came up. But no man ever questioned where Alkibiades led — and he always led in person. I suppose that was part of his power with us. We were running low, through the tamarisk and the shorewise scrub that gave off its hot scents of rosemary and fennel as we brushed by, our swords ready drawn in our hands.
The flare had disappeared from the ramparts when we came shadow-stealing up through the encircling graves to the postern gate. It stood darkly open and unguarded, and two abreast — there was no room for more — we passed through after Alkibiades.
Inside there should have been a whispered password out of the dark, men waiting to receive and join us. Instead, as the last of us stepped clear of the gateway, there was a flare of torches, and in the hissing light we saw the spear points and helmet-crests of men drawn up, to receive us indeed, but not as friends. I realised with a sickness in my stomach that the enemy must have got hold of the plan and showed a decoy light. I suppose they hoped to gain a few useful hostages — and we had walked straight into the trap. For we were enormously outnumbered, and beyond the torchlight was a gathering movement and murmur — full of menace.
They were moving in on us. I was just behind Alkibiades, and I was suddenly aware of the cock of his head. He had not walked blindly into a trap, he had taken a calculated risk with his eyes open. It seemed a long time that we stood in the torchlight, hands rigid on our weapons, confronting the Selymbrian spears, but it can have been no more than a few heartbeats of time. Then Alkibiades spoke quietly to his trumpeter beside him, bidding the man sound for silence.
The trumpeter raised his trumpet to his lips and sounded the call with cool effrontery that matched the Admiral’s own; and I suppose because it was so unexpected, the men moving in on us hesitated, then checked in their tracks; and the movement of the crowd beyond the torchlight stopped dead. Silence held us all for a long moment; the whole city seemed to be listening and waiting what what would come next. Then Alkibiades raised his hand and made a proclamation, not very loud, but in a clear tone of authority that must have reached to the furthest fringes of the unseen crowd. ‘You are to lay down your arms, my friends. If you do this in good order and without delay, no harm shall come to you; Athens has entrusted me with her most solemn promise.’
‘And what if we do not?’ a Selymbrian officer demanded.
Alkibiades said, ‘Athens does not love those of her own who take up arms against her. I am empowered, in that case, to take such action as I think fit.’ There was a moment of thick silence; and when he spoke again his voice had lost nothing of authority but taken on a hint of that familiar charm that could call a bird out of an arbutus tree. ‘But the action which seems to me most fitting to both of us is that you should lay down your arms and we should talk together as civilised men.’
It was the most colossal piece of bluff I have ever known. I thought, ‘They’ll never fall for this, they can’t!’ But I don’t know — I suppose they thought that no man in his senses would speak like that unless he had troops enough at hand to back his demand, and the rest must have got in by some other way, and be waiting somewhere in the darkness close at hand. I suppose too, they thought his speech had a friendly ring; and so the unbelievable happened, and man after man let his spear clatter to the ground at his feet.
And standing there in the midst of the torches, Alkibiades and the Selymbrian Commander began to parley; and the gate remained open. And while they parleyed the rest of the troops came up, and the Athenian party in the city who had been lying low, ready to come to our aid, but seeing no sense in throwing away their lives by attacking against hopeless odds if there was no need, came from cover to add their numbers to ours.
There was no disorder, no looting. The Thracians were never allowed inside the gates, but given a special issue of wine which Alkibiades ordered the Selymbrians to bring out from their cellars, and sent back to camp on the pretext of guarding the ships.
Next day there was a great discussion of terms with the chief men of the city; and Selymbria paid a good fat fine, and undertook to receive and support an Athenian garrison; and Alkibiades and the Selymbrian Commander embraced each other in the middle of the market-place.
18
The Soldier
When we got back to Chalcedon, we found that the siege was over at last, and Thrasybulus and Theramenes had come to terms with Pharnobazus for the town’s surrender. Chalcedon was to suffer no punishment for its revolt, but pay the usual yearly tribute of an Athenian city again as before; and the Satrap had agreed to pay twenty talents of gold on the city’s behalf, if Alkibiades would swear to leave his territory in peace.
The treaty was all drawn up ready and waiting to be signed. I was among the officers that Alkibiades took with him to the ceremonial signing — all that the Persians do, is done with great ceremony — it was
After the signing, both companies ate together under the Satrap’s great awning; and Alkibiades and Pharnobazus sat together on the same pile of fine rugs and drank from the same wine cup. Clearly in their own way, they were making another treaty, personal to themselves; though maybe in Alkibiades’ case Athens had also some part in it.
I happened to be sitting close to Antiochus — we all sat in little groups, each with a bowl of kid meat broiled in milk with raisins and green peppers in our midst and clearly he did not like what he saw going on in the High Place. He was somewhat drunk by that time, and drink always made him reckless and quarrelsome. I saw him lean towards an elderly Persian official; jutting his chin aggressively to match the forward swing of those great coral and silver earrings. ‘The troops aren’t going to like it,’ he said. ‘When the fighting’s been hard they expect a little hunting in the enemy’s runs.’
The old Persian smiled, and a thousand fine wrinkles gathered round his eyes. ‘But then, we could scarcely be called enemies,’ he said, and made a small courteous gesture indicating the Admiral and Pharnobazus. ‘It is not customary to hunt without leave in the hunting runs of a friend.’
‘Friend be cursed,’ said Antiochus. ‘It’ll do him damage with the troops.’ His voice had begun to rise a little, one or two people were looking round; and I began to wonder if there was going to be trouble.
But the old Persian still smiled, shaking his head. ‘I think you underestimate the strength of your Commander’s hold on their loyalties. Listen, my friend, the Propontis is far from Athens; by the friendship of the Satrap he makes sure of safe passage for the corn ships, and his goodwill towards these little Athenian colonies so far from home, so far maybe from help. That is worth more than the pleasure of a little raiding, a few horses and women carried off, a village sacked …’
You could almost see the red hairs of Antiochus’ beard beginning to rise like a dog’s hackles. ‘A few horses and women, my arse!’ he shouted. ‘It wasn’t to save himself from that kind of raiding that your Satrap hands out twenty talents —’
It seemed to me that it was time somebody did something. I rose waveringly to my feet, turned half round and fell over Antiochus, pouring about half a cupful of wine down the back of his neck. I did just wonder, as I landed in his lap, whether the next thing I should know would be a dagger point under my ribs. One normally goes unarmed to a gathering of that sort, but with the likes of Antiochus one can never be quite sure. However, all that followed was a startled flow of curses as he tried to fling me off; while I, tearfully apologetic, clung like a limpet, making futile efforts to mop him up with the tail of my chlamys. There was a roar of laughter, and then Ariston was bending over me saying, ‘Come on, up with you. You need a spot of fresh air, my lad.’
Still apologising, I allowed him to haul me to my feet, all asprawl like a shock of rain-wet barley, and urge me out through the crowd under the awning. The last thing I saw as I turned away from the group was the faded blue eyes of the old Persian narrowed in amused understanding.
Outside in the thick white sunlight, I pulled away from Ariston, and when he would not let go my arm, tried to strike his hand away, suddenly in a vile temper.
He said, ‘Softly now, best get out of sight of the guards before you sober up.’
And I realised that he knew perfectly well what had happened. When we were out of sight of the encampment, he let me go, and said with twitching lips, ‘That was very neatly done.’
‘Why in Typhon’s name does Alkibiades keep that lout always with him?’
‘Don’t you really know?’ Ariston said. We were walking back through the dunes towards our own horse lines.
‘I know he’s the best pilot in the fleet, but that doesn’t —’
‘He’s also about the only one of his senior staff that Alkibiades can trust.’
‘He didn’t show himself particularly worthy of trust, just now.’
‘He drinks too much, and he drinks quarrelsome,’ said Ariston. ‘That’s the one thing that makes him a danger. For the rest, he’s as brave as a boar and as loyal as a hound. Could you say as much for the rest of our Admirals?’
I thought of Theramenes, the political opportunist; of Thrasybulus the fanatical Democrat; of Thrassylus, who would do him dirt at the flip of a coin; and I cursed.
*
A few days later we were across the straits and blockading Byzantium, which was ripening nicely for rebellion against its Spartan garrison. We had built a stockade round it earlier in the year, just as we had done for Chalcedon; and news came to us by night out of the town that supplies were running short, and Clearchus had commandeered all the food for his troops, leaving the citizens to starve. You can see his point; Byzantium was essential to the security of the straits, and his orders must have been to hold it at all costs. But anyone except a Spartan might have foreseen what tree would grow from that seed. Probably, too, the citizens had got some word of the good treatment handed out to Chalcedon and Selymbria; at all events we found ourselves with a strong body of allies within the city, and once again, the promise of a gate left open.
But even so, Byzantium with its strong garrison of Spartans and Spartan allies, would be a tougher nut to crack by far than Selymbria. And Alkibiades, calling a Council of War, laid before us a plan by which heavy fighting might be avoided.
On the morning of the day before the gate was to be opened to us, we raised the blockade and sailed off. The Admiral had contrived to let it leak out that matters had gone suddenly and badly wrong in Ionia. But out of sight of the city we dropped anchor and lay waiting for dark, then headed shoreward again, and a little way down the coast, landed the troops in the now familiar pattern; but this time led by Alkibiades himself. It was the first time I had regretted my promotion to Trirarch, which had taken me from one service to the other. But there was plenty of work for the sea-service, too, in that night’s plan. As soon as the troops were landed we put out again and headed for Byzantium. If the fools had worked hard they might have got some kind of boom across the harbour mouth, but they had not thought of it, so we came in about an hour before dawn.
We entered the great harbour of Byzantium with cressets blazing and trumpets sounding, the bos’n’s shrilling the time for the rowers on their flutes, and every man throughout the fleet raising the Paean as we came. I think some of us even hammered spear butts on the decks or clashed cooking-pots together; anything to add to the uproar, anything that would convince the Spartan Commander of an attack in force from the sea and make him hurry his men down to the harbour to resist it, while at the same time signalling our arrival across the city to Alkibiades and the troops waiting beyond the unguarded gate.
I suppose the first seamen must have sprung ashore just as Alkibiades made his entry on the other side of Byzantium. For a while it was hot work along the water side, and we could make little progress against the defenders. But our orders were not to fight for an advance, but to hold the enemy in play, losing as few of our own men as might be, until the land force could get through to take them in the rear. It seemed a long time, and the struggle to and fro along the dusty quays and jetties with the water lapping at our feet ate itself into my brain. I and a knot of men from the Pegasus had swept the narrow alley up from the water beside the arsenal, and were holding it. Truth to tell, I had taken a spear jab below the knee and was not much use for a moving fight just then. The sun was well up into the sky, and the water behind u
Somehow we were charging forward; I hardly felt my knee at that moment; all along the harbour line, on a wave of cheering, and the Paean flung to and fro, the seamen were forcing their way up against the Spartan spears. And then suddenly through the dust of the fighting I saw Alkibiades, his sword red to the hilt and his helmet ripped away, looking like something out of an ancient story — looking as they say Theseus looked at Marathon. We seemed roaring towards each other, and then the roaring was in my own head, like a great sea, and darkness came up between me and Alkibiades’ face, and I pitched forward into the darkness and a high singing quiet.
The next time I knew anything I was lying in the colonnade of some building, and someone was half drowning me with water out of my own helmet. I tried to sit up, and the world went spinning sideways and my leg hurt so damnably that I very nearly keeled over into the blackness again.
And Byzantium was ours.
I suppose it was the crown of the campaign, but still it’s Selymbria that stands in my mind for those three years in the North.
The Whore
He brought me up from the house at Sestos to the new fort at Pactye as soon as it was built. When the run of the fighting was along the Propontis shores he made his headquarters there; and he said, driving his head into the hollow of my shoulder, that it was cold without me in the winter nights.
It was lonely up at Pactye when he was not there; but I did not mind the loneliness because of the times when he came. Sometimes he would be away only a few days, sometimes many weeks; and when he came it might be for no more than a hurried meal, or a night in passing; but in the dark storm times of winter it might be for a full course of the moon. I loved and longed for the winter storms when he was there, to hear them beating like black harpies’ wings about the walls, and know him doubly sheltered within them and within the circle of my arms.