Salamis (22 page)

But when he started, he had no mercy.

‘Themistocles, perhaps what you say is good for Athens.’ He smiled. ‘Good for your people, rather. Athens is
gone.
’ He looked around allowing the import of that statement to sink in. ‘But if the enemy has nine
hundred
ships, if all our fighting at Artemisium has only served to make them
stronger
, I say it is time to retreat. You saw them today! They filled the horizon and they offered battle! By all the might of Poseidon, do you really expect us to face that? You have threatened us with desertion; you say, if we retreat, you and the Aeginians will sail away and found new cities in Magna Graecia.’ The Corinthian spread his arms. ‘Go, then. Betray Greece. We – the Achaeans, the men of Pelops – we are the real Greeks, anyway. We will hold at the isthmus. Even if Xerxes passes the wall, he will never take the Acrocorinth, never take Sparta, never survive the long march to reach Olympia. Who knows if the Great King will even pursue us? He promised to punish Athens, and he has done so.’ Adeimantus nodded. ‘Join us and retreat to the isthmus. When the Great King retreats,
then
perhaps you can found new cities, or creep back to the ruins of Athens. But I can tell you that we, the men of Pelops, are leaving. It would be foolish to stay, so far from the army.’

‘Where is the army?’ I asked. It was the first many men knew that I was there.

Adeimantus looked puzzled. ‘How would I know?’

I looked around and caught Lykon’s eye. ‘Was there an army at the isthmus when you left?’ I called loudly.

Lykon shook his head vehemently. ‘No, Arimnestos,’ he called. ‘No army. Corinth has not even raised its phalanx yet. Men are still travelling home from the Olympics.’

There was bitter laughter.

‘Listen, Adeimantus,’ I said. ‘I am the polemarch of Green Plataea, and my city is already destroyed, and yet I am here. Eurybiades swore that an army of the League would protect Boeotia, but no army came. Plataea, Hisiae, Thespiae – all burned. Attica is burning, and Corinth has not yet raised their phalanx.’ I put a hand to my beard, as if in puzzlement.

‘The only way the League can even resist right now is at sea. If we lose at sea, as has been said over and over, the Great King’s fleet will land wherever they please – from the vale of Olympia to the fields of Argos. And Adeimantus, we all know you speak only to inflame the men of the Peloponnese. I will not ask why you seek to persuade men to desert us. You claim that Athens threatens desertion while you yourself declare that you will desert! Black is white, and sophistry is the order of the day, I guess.’ I laughed. Men laughed with me. ‘But don’t take us for fools, Adeimantus. You say that only you Achaeans are Greeks? Not Alcaeus? Not Sappho? Not Hipponax? You mean that the men of Boeotia are not Greek? Hesiod is not Greek? Or do you mean that mighty Homer was not Greek?’ I spat. ‘You are a fool. I speak only for my few Plataeans, but I say – run away. This is men’s work, and when we have defeated the Great King, we will mock you until you die of shame.’

He drew his sword – there, in the temple precinct.

I stood with my arms by my sides.

Eurybiades stepped between us, and the look he gave me was hard – a look of disappointment and even hatred.

‘I expected better of you, Plataean,’ he said. ‘High words and personal insult are not the way to sway a council.’

I made myself exhale. ‘Are they not? I am only a Boeotian bumpkin. I only emulate my teachers.’ I pointed to Adeimantus.

Men laughed, but the Spartan navarch was not amused. ‘We cannot fight at odds of worse than three to one,’ he said.

Themistocles held his head high. ‘We can!’ he said.

Cimon pushed forward. ‘We can,’ he insisted. ‘I can tell you how we can do it. By Poseidon, gentlemen, numbers mean nothing in narrow waters, you saw that at Artemisium. They
fear
us. Today we outfaced them with six ships against their nine hundred. Ask Arimnestos. We interfered with their launching – with six ships. They do not speak the same languages and half of them hate Persia more than we do. By the
GODS
! You beat them at Artemisium! Why do you fear them now!’

‘And you lost the man of justice, Aristides,’ Adeimantus spat. ‘Very convenient for your democrat here, who sent his worthy opponent to die.’

‘Aristides and his ship survived the encounter by the will of the gods,’ I shouted. ‘Even now his ship is beached on the north coast of Aegina, a few hours’ rowing away.’

Adeimantus shook his head. ‘You are the democrat’s slave and will say anything for him,’ he spat. ‘But I say this: even if we fight this battle, even if we win, it is a foolish victory. A victory of rowers and slaves! What will we be then, when the hoplites are not men of valour, but the little men are? They will rise and take our cities and drive them to extinction for their own petty pleasures. That is what this man wants. Themistocles the democrat wants this war won by his little petty men so that he can be like a god among them. And if Aristides was here he would agree with me.’

Themistocles all but exploded. ‘You – you!’ he roared. ‘You would rather be a slave of the Great King than see the little men do their share to earn victory? Where are your precious hoplites, Corinthian? Your noble Spartiates and the aristocrats of Thebes and Thespiae
failed.
King Leonidas
died.
Now the fate of Greece is in the hands of the oarsmen, the little men, and they will save us!’

Eurybiades pulled the hem of his cloak over his head. As a Spartan he was insulted, desperately insulted, by Themistocles’ last words. He walked, alone, to the altar.

I had time to think of the irony of it all, that in fact, Aristides
did
agree with Adeimantus about the role of the hoplites. And that Leonidas, had he been alive, would have agreed with Themistocles. They formed their conspiracy to save Greece on the notion that it would have many ugly turns and twists. Leonidas had a clear view of the end, I think.

I had time to think these thoughts, and then Eurybiades turned, a grave figure, tall and strong, full of dignity.

‘We will retreat to the isthmus,’ he said. ‘It was always my intention. And without unity, we will only die here for nothing.’

Adeimantus grinned.

‘Adeimantus has ordered all the Corinthian ships to gather on the western beaches,’ Lykon said. We were at Themistocles’ fire, in front of his pavilion, the beautiful tent that had got him in so much trouble after the last Olympics, where the Spartans won the chariot race with a little help from the Athenians. Themistocles’ tent was remarkable; dyed blue and red, with woven edges, internal hangings, toggles to hold the walls, it really was a thing of beauty. It was also probably very comfortable to live in. The problem was that it was much more lavish than the tents used by, say, the King of Sparta or the priests of Apollo, and so it was much remarked on.

But he had good slaves and wine, and many stools – very elegant stools. Siccinius, Themistocles’ steward, poured us wine. Xanthippus was there, and Cimon, and some of the other Athenians; Idomeneus was there, and Lykon, but none of the Spartans.

Themistocles sat back and blew out through his cheeks. ‘Aristides truly is alive?’ he asked.

He was a man who lived in such an artificial world that he assumed the rest of us lied as easily as he did himself. Well.

I nodded. ‘He is alive. I’m sure he’ll come tomorrow.’

Themistocles shook his head. ‘I was a fool to speak ill of the King of Sparta, whom I too loved,’ he said.

Cimon nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘You lost Eurybiades there.’

Themistocles all but glowed in the firelight and his eyes were wide – almost mad. ‘I’ll go to him and reason with him,’ he said. He leapt to his feet and all but ran into the darkness.

Well, as I said, their tents were close together on the headland.

I sipped my wine and thought, or rethought, many of the thoughts I’ve just related to you. Undying fame. Briseis. My house in Plataea. My son and my daughter, my future and the battle.

Siccinius paused by me and poured. ‘May I ask my lord a question?’ he asked.

Sycophantic slaves are annoying, but think of how hard it is to be them, eh? I have been. To always get the right tone – does this one want slavish manners or straight talk? How about this one?

I tried not to snap at him. ‘Speak up,’ I said, or something equally surly. No man enjoys having his deep thoughts interrupted by a slave.

‘Do you truly speak Persian?’ he asked.

‘I do,’ I answered, in that language.

‘As do I,’ Siccinius said. ‘You led the embassy of the Greeks to Susa, did you not?’

I was suddenly suspicious of this man, and suspicious that Themistocles had a Persian-speaking slave.

Listen – Themistocles never wanted anything but his own glory. There were men among us who whispered that he would be perfectly content to lead the Athenian fleet into exile, because he would be the chief of it, and the lord of the new city. If you have been listening all these nights, you know that I think that most of the Athenians – certainly the whole current crop, Pericles included – would sell their own mothers to lord it as tyrant of Athens.

At any rate, before I could question the man further, Themistocles returned from Eurybiades.

‘He refused to listen to me,’ he said.

Cimon moaned.

Themistocles pounded one fist into his other hand. ‘By the gods,’ he swore, ‘there must be another way.’

Cimon looked up. ‘It is the curse of the gods on the Greeks,’ he said. ‘We can never be as one. We compete against each other in all things and we hate each other. We cannot unite.’

‘Think of Lade,’ I said. ‘We would have won there and saved
all
this fighting, had only the men of Samos not betrayed us.’

‘Think how often we were betrayed during the fighting in Ionia,’ Cimon said. ‘By my ancestor Ajax, my father was a pirate, but he kept his word better than many lords.’

Themistocles looked at me across the fire. ‘The Persians use our petty quarrels against us,’ he said. ‘And there is always Persian gold to help the cause of treason. It is part of their way of conquering and holding an empire.’ He was speaking aloud, but he was thinking – I could see it.

So could Cimon.

‘You aren’t proposing we sell ourselves to the Persians,’ he asked. His voice was light, but I could hear the steel in it.

Themistocles shot to his feet. ‘By Zeus, lord of kings and free men, I propose the very thing – and tonight, at that.’

There is a point at which a mad, bad plan is merely a good, if daring, plan. It is a tribute to our desperation that when Themistocles outlined his notion, there was almost no argument.

My part in the plan was simple. And I knew the way, and I had a triakonter on my part of the beach, ready for sea.

Walking back over the headland, Xanthippus laughed bitterly. ‘Is this how we have to behave to do what is
right
?’ he asked. ‘By Poseidon, I hate the Spartans.’

It was dark, but not yet late, and there were people at most of the fires, eating and drinking. The whole of the beaches of Salamis had something of the air of a desperate festival.

We walked together, mostly in silence. Xanthippus had decided that he didn’t like me, and yet he craved company. We were about to do a reckless thing that could dishonour us all. I could tell he had little stomach for it and I, in turn, didn’t like him much either, but we were allies.

War is complicated.

At his tents, we stopped. ‘Let me offer you a cup of wine,’ he said, with poor grace. He didn’t really want to offer one to me, I could tell, and I didn’t want his wine anyway.

‘No,’ I said. I had a mission, and I would need most of the dark part of night to accomplish it. ‘My thanks, Xanthippus,’ I said, although I owed him no thanks.

‘Is that the Plataean, my dear?’ called a woman’s voice from the darkness.

‘Please keep your voice down, my dear,’ Xanthippus said to the tent.

Agariste appeared from the tent door. ‘Arimnestos,’ she said, taking my hand. ‘What a pleasure to see you.

‘He is on an urgent errand and can scarcely linger,’ her husband shot back.

Agariste waved a ladylike hand and a beautiful young Thracian girl appeared – dark hair piled on her head and a tattoo of a horse inside her wrist that touched me. The Thracian girl smiled and poured me wine – wine I didn’t need – and like the Thracian woman, it was unwatered and very strong.

A stool was placed behind me.

‘I really must be away,’ I said.

Agariste nodded. ‘Of course, but this will only take a moment,’ she said. ‘Hipponax is your son?’

‘Of course!’ I said.

‘But you have no wife,’ she went on.

‘My wife died,’ I said.

‘Euphonia – yes. A most elegant and well-bred young woman. We were all surprised when she chose you.’

Well, what do you say to that?

But Agariste smiled in the near darkness. ‘I understand her better now, perhaps,’ she said. ‘Jocasta speaks very highly of you. Very highly indeed.’

I shook my head, far more confused by one Athenian oligarchic matron than by all the manoeuvres of the Persian fleet. ‘Jocasta?’ I asked.

She looked at me, her eyes narrowed. ‘The lady wife of Aristides?’ she said, her voice rising.

‘Of course,’ I said, feeling slow.

‘She is here, now,’ Agariste said. She smiled at her husband, but it was only to make him feel as if he was included in the conversation.

I really had no idea where all this was going. I rose to my feet and gave the Thracian girl my cup. Really, it was just an excuse to look at her.

She wasn’t looking at me, either. There’s age for you.

‘We have decided that it is time for you and Cleitus to end this foolish quarrel,’ Agariste said.

‘Of course,’ I answered. I smiled. ‘I really must go. I have a duty to perform. Perhaps your husband can explain.’

‘Well!’ she said. She also rose to her feet. ‘I shan’t keep a guest who is so very anxious to leave, but really!’

Xanthippus accompanied me a few steps into the darkness. ‘I apologise for my wife,’ he began.