# LongBench v2 / 67095b87bb02136c067d1bad

task_id: 877c2256-bf9c-568a-91c5-68f646c58a74
task_key: train--67095b87bb02136c067d1bad
task_revision_id: 3

{"choice_A":"Hermippos – The silver merchant poisoned the wine, angry over a recent failed business deal with the victim.","choice_B":"Miltiades – The cheerful marble merchant used a blunt object to strike the victim during a heated argument over their journey’s arrangements.","choice_C":"Aristodamos – The gentleman of Naxos cleverly orchestrated a fall from a height, disguising it as an accident, in order to inherit the merchant’s shipping route rights.","choice_D":"Kleumedes – The physician from Kos injected the victim with a fatal substance during a routine medical check-up, under the guise of administering medicine.","context":"Praise for the \nAristotle Detective series\n“Doody weaves the tapestry of the background beautifully and unob-\ntrusively. And she knows how to sustain suspense.”  \t\n  —Book \nW\norld\n“The best detective to come along since we said good-bye to \n \nNero Wolfe and Hercule Poirot.” \t\n   \t\n       —Lewiston Journal\n“[Margaret Doody] not only makes Greece live but turns Aristotle into \na passionate, quirky seeker of truth.”                  \t\n \n—Detroit News \n“This clever and original detective story set in ancient Athens should \nsuit classicists to a T and enchant all sleuthwatchers…Doody brings \nthe Athens of 322 B.C. to life with skill and verve…”\n—Publishers \nW\neekly\n“…well-paced and memorable not only for its marvelous evocation of \nwhat it must have been like to sail the Aegean 2,300 years ago but for \na lurking sense of menace beneath the surface detail of daily courtesies, \ncomical misadventures, and breathtakingly beautiful descriptions.”\n —Roderick Beaton\n“The Aristotle Detective series by Margaret Doody is historically cor-\nrect without being pedantic, learned but not tedious, equally ironic \nand attentive to details.”      —Mariarosa Mancuso, Corriere della Sera\n“This work offers satisfactory detection, a well-proportioned story, nos-\ntalgia for lovers of Greece, and special fun for classicists. It is a bonus \nthat it is so well written.”\t\n    \t\n\t\n—Barbara \nLevick, \nTLS\n“Why did no one think of this before?”\t \t\n        \t\n   —The Times \n\n\nThe Aristotle Detective Series\nAristotle Detective\nAristotle and Poetic Justice\nAristotle and the Secrets of Life\nPoison in Athens\nMysteries of Eleusis\n\n\nMargaret Doody\nARISTOTLE \nand the \nsecrets of life\nThe University of \nChicago Press\nA N\nD E T E C T I V E  \nN OV E L\nARISTOTLE\n\n\nThis novel is gratefully dedicated to\nbeppe benvenuto, “the resurrection man,”\nand to rosalia coci, “la tradutrice incomparable”\nThe University of Chicago Press, Chicago 60637\n© 2003 by Margaret Doody\nAll rights reserved \nOriginally published in 2003\nUniversity of Chicago Press edition 2014\nPrinted in the United States of America\n18  17  16  15  14    1  2  3  4  5\nISBN-13: 978-0-226-13217-4 (paper)\nISBN-13: 978-0-226-13220-4 (e-book)\nDOI:  0.728/chicago/9780226132204.001.0001\nlibrary of congress cataloging-in-publication Data\nDoody, Margaret Anne, author.\n  Aristotle and the secrets of life : an Aristotle detective novel / Margaret Doody.\n       pages ; cm\n    ISBN 978-0-226-13217-4 (pbk. : alk. paper) -- ISBN 978-0-226-13220-4 \n(e-book)  1.  Aristotle--Fiction. 2.  Greece--History--Macedonian Expansion, 359-\n323 B.C.--Fiction.  I. Title. \n  PR9199.3.D556A88 2014\n  823’.914--dc23\n                                                            2013042066\n This paper meets the requirements of ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 \n(Permanence of Paper).\n\n\nContents\n\t\nMap \t\n\t\nvi\n\t\nList of Characters \t\n\t\nviii\npart i: parts of animals\nI\t\nThe Sanctuary of Asklepios \t\n\t\n3\nII\t\nMurdering an Ox \t\n\t\n24\nIII\t\nMeeting a Monkey \t\n\t\n35\nIV\t\nSweetness and Bees \t\n\t\n58\nV\t\nOdour of Blood \t\n\t\n78\nVI\t\nParts of Animals \t\n\t\n91\nVII\t\nThe Monument \t\n\t\n102\npart ii: movement of animals\nVIII\t\nPreparing for Flight \t\n\t\n119\nIX \t\nTaking Ship for the Islands \t\n\t\n138\nX\t\nDelos \t\n\t\n163\nXI \t\nBlood at Delos, Flesh at Mykonos \t\n\t\n182\nXII \t\nNaxos \t\n\t\n199\nXIII \t\nStorm at Sea \t\n\t\n219\nXIV \t\nThe Healing Island \t\n\t\n235\npart iii: body and soul\nXV\t\nThe Doctors \t\n\t\n261\nXVI\t\nFacing Asia \t\n\t\n274\nXVII\t\nThe Letter \t\n\t\n296\nXVIII\t Harpalos the Treasurer \t\n\t\n312\nXIX\t\nCarrying Treasure \t\n\t\n333\nXX\t\nThe Killing Island \t\n\t\n349\nXXI\t\nEscape \t\n\t\n369\nXXII\t Healing and Light \t\n\t\n387\n\t\nEpilogue\t\n\t\n416\n\n\n\n\n\n\nLIST OF CHARACTERS \nFAMILY CIRCLES AND CONNECTIONS OF ARISTOTLE \nAND STEPHANOS \nAristotle son of Nikomakhos: philosopher of \nAthens, age 54 \nPythias daughter of Hermias of \nAtarneos: Aristotle's wife \nPythias the younger: daughter of \nAristotle, a child nearly 6 years \nold \nHerpyllis: slavewoman who takes care of \nyoung Pythias \nPhokon: Aristotle's senior male slave, efficient and responsible \nOlympos: Aristotle's second male slave \nKallisthenes: Aristotle's nephew, Alexander's historian \nStephanos son ofNikiarkhos: Athenian citizen of good will, nearly \n26 years old; trying to better his prospects and get married \nEunike daughter of \nDiogeiton: Stephanos' mother, one of \nthe tribe \nof \nErektheus \nTheodoros: Stephanos' younger brother, not yet 10 years old \nPhilemon: Stephanos' cousin, age 25; a veteran \nSmikrenes: irascible farmer of \nEleusis area, Stephanos' prospective \nfather-in-law \nPhilomela daughter of Smikrenes: Stephanos' bride-to-be, age 15 \nGeta: slave of Smikrenes, Philomela's old nurse \nPhilonike: estranged wife of Smikrenes, mother of \nPhilomela; a bee-\nkeeper living in Hymettos \nPhilokleia: mother of Philonike and grandmother of Philomela, \nmanaging family farm in Hymettos \n\n\nchapter title\nix\nDropides: second husband of \nPhilokleia, step-father of \nPhilonike, a \nman of \ninvalid habits \nPhilokles: brother of \nPhilonike and uncle of \nPhilomela; inheritor of \nestate in Hymettos, but now travelling in the eastern islands \nMika: elderly slavewoman of \nhousehold at Hymettos \nSCHOLARS AND STUDENTS OF THE LYKEION \nTheophrastos: scholar, age 40, with a strong interest in plants; \nAristotle's right-hand man \nEudemos of \nRhodos: witty and urbane scholar, near Theophrastos' \nage \nDemetrios of \nPhaleron: young scholar, extraordinarily handsome \nHipparkhos of \nArgos: serious scholar in his late 20s, looks like a \nhorse \nArkhandros of \nLampsakos: serious scholar in his 30s, very pale \nMikon: student, age 14, who takes an interest in the Lykeion's \nresearch projects \nParmenion son of \nArkhebios: grandson (illegitimate line) of \nAlexander's great general Parmenion, age 14. A young student \nwhose strange mental state causes concern \nCITIZENS OF ATHENS AND THEIR ASSOCIATES \nMegakles: important Athenian citizen with a sun-burnt bald spot \nand an earnest manner \nThrasymakhos: important Athenian with some claim to be an \norator; father of \nMikon \nApollonios: sturdy and patriotic citizen who resents Makedonian rule \nTheosophoroas: middle-aged citizen of sardonic temper, with no \ngreat love for Stephanos \nEpikrates: rich little citizen, cheated in a deal with an Egyptian \nperfumer \nHypereides: orator and statesman, age 61; antipathetic to \nMakedonians; helpful to Epikrates in his law case \n\n\naristotle & poetic justice\nx\nAntigone: freedwoman, successful whore of \nAthens, owner of a \nbrothel; involved in a lawsuit with Epikrates \nEuphorbos: young man of \ngood family, a humorist and game-player \nKallias: rich citizen, fond of his pets; owns a monkey \nEurymedon: of \nthe tribe of \nEumolpidai, a guardian of \nthe cult of \nDemeter who takes his religious charge seriously \nGorgias son of Lysippos: dramatic citizen in his early twenties, son \nof a rich silversmith \nPERSONS ENCOUNTERED ON THE JOURNEY AND IN THE EAST \nAiskhines: Athenian captain of small fast ship Eudaimonia \nHermippos of \nLaurion: traveller; engaged at home in silver business, \nowner of an ore washery and smelting furnace \nWidow: Hermippos' daughter, mother of child Philokleia \nPhilokleia: Hermippos' little asthmatic granddaughter, age 7 \nMiltiades: cheerful merchant of \nmarble \nPhilokhoros: traveller of distinction who seems to dote on his slave \nSosios: slave to Philokhoros \nDoris: crippled slavewoman with little dog \nKardaka: mistress of \nDoris \nMagistrate of Delos \nLysis: manager of \nbrothel 'Naumakhia' in Mykonos \nA marble merchant of Paros \nAristodamos: gentleman of \nNaxos with ties to Delos; an old friend \nof \nAristotle \nNikias: Koan captain of small fast ship the Nike \nKoriskos: son of an old acquaintance of \nAristotle, on an embassy to \nAlexander \nIatrokles: surgeon of Kos and descendant of Asklepios; an old \nacquaintance of \nAristotle \nKleumedes: Iatrokles' partner, a physician of \nKos and descendant of \nAsklepios \nOromedon son of Daliokles: important citizen of Kos, old friend of \n\n\nchapter title\nxi\nAristotle \nPeleus: practical army man, used to organising convoys \nDiophantos: officer in charge of a platoon in Lykia \nMenestor: Theban captive, age nearly 17; a slave working for \nofficers of \nthe army in Asia \nHarpalos: Alexander's treasurer, former student of \nAristotle \nPythonike: beautiful Athenian mistress of Harpalos, who \naccompanies him to Asia \nNanno of \nKalymnos: beautiful and rich lady of \nthe islands, formerly \nmistress to a Makedonian general \nVarious travellers, sailors and soldiers \n\n\nSpeak to me, 0 Muse, and open my mouth that true and good things \nmay come from my lips. Let me tell aright this history of \nplunder and \nevil, pain and captivity and wandering over the wide sea. \nThanks be to Asklepios that I was healed of my wound. Mayall \nthe blessings of \nHygieia flow through me and mine, now and always. \nWith all honour to Asklepios the divine Physician, to Paieon, ever-\nhymned in realms above, and to Lord Apollo. \n\n\nPART ONE \nPARTS OF ANIMALS \n\n\n\n\nI \n==~g_e~== \na-G \nThe Sanctuary of \nAsklepios \nIt was still dark as we moved cautiously along the narrow way at the \nside of the steep Akropolis, towards the southern slope. Four men, \ntwo of whom were slaves carrying a litter, and one unseen woman, \nenclosed in the box they bore along. \n'Be careful!' exclaimed the older man sharply, as one of the slaves \nnearly missed his footing on the invisible path. A few belated owls still \nhooted around the temple above us. Straining our eyes against \ndarkness we searched for the shrine. Wings flapped. One of \nthe cocks \nI held was struggling to fly, as if to escape his death or else to hasten \ntowards his appointed end. It was hard holding on to the birds with \ntheir wiry feet and claws and writhing necks, especially as I could not \nsee them. I could feel one of \nthem digging into my hand, even though \nwe had bound their beaks for the journey. \nThe shrine at last was before us, a dark shape mysteriously solid in \nthe no-dimension of night. We waited, at the head of a little line of \nsuppliants, in the summer morning, the strange time just before \ndawn. The sky grew less dark. Birds chirped. Then along the eastern \nhorizon as along the edges of a cut a redness bled along the \neastern sky. The first rays struck the temple door, and the door \n3 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF UFE \nopened. We pilgrims and suppliants joined the priests and their \nattendants in singing the morning hymn: \n'Awaken Paieon Asklepios \nAwaken and hear thy hymn!' \nAristotle and the slave assisted the woman out of her cramped \ncontainer. She stood there, leaning against her husband, a thin \nwoman, but evidently pregnant, and heavily veiled. We moved \ntogether towards the altar-place. Somewhere near us were the \nsnakes in the sacred pits, but I could not see them. I unbound the \ncocks; Aristotle and the slaves assisted the attendants in taking them \nto the altar. They flapped and crowed, announcing the dawn just as \nthe attendant advanced upon them with a thin sharp knife. Their \n'coco-ricoo!' was cut short. A splash of blood dabbled the marble \nstone and the bright confident feathers. The light moved in a rosy \nray streaming over the altar, making a glimmer in the blood and in \nthe sightless eyes of the severed heads, floppy under their red \ncombs. \nWe stood in prayer and supplication in an enclosure lit by a little \naltar fire and by the fresh dawn light. A sweet summer morning \nbreeze came through the open door. \nThe priest-physician asked 'What is troubling you?' and Aristotle \nanswered. \n'My wife has been troubled by mild fever and want of appetite. \nOften she cannot keep food down when she does eat.' \n'Is she pregnant?' the priest asked quickly. 'Lady, I insist that you \nmust answer for yourself. Who are you? What is your name?' \n'Pythias, wife of \nAristotle of \nAthens.' \n'Are you pregnant?' \n'I am.' \n'You know,' the priest said addressing both of them, 'that \nAsklepios has no remedy for pregnancy, as it is a natural matter, and \n4 \n\n\nTHE SANCTUARY OF ASKLEPIOS \nwe do not treat it. And you should know that no child is to be born \nwithin the precincts consecrated to Asklepios.' \n'But,' Aristotle argued, 'my wife's troubles are other than just those \nof pregnancy itself. I am a physician's son and I know. She has \nfeverishness, she trembles. Describe your symptoms,' he added, \nturning to Pythias, who answered in a voice low and pleasant, with \nmore than a little touch of \nforeign inflection: \n'Hot and then cold. Trembling in the limbs. Some weakness in the \neyes that comes and goes. And trouble with my stomach and some \nsoreness in the side. It is not like my former childbearing.' \n'You have borne children before?' \n'Two stillborn, one who lived a year and died of \na disease, and one \na little girl who lives now.' \n'And you, sir.' The priest turned to Aristotle. 'Describe your own \naffiictions. ' \n'Pain in the leg - sciatic trouble. Stiffness and pain in the thigh and \nleg.' \n'Any others?' He looked at me, I shook my head. I was there as a \nsupporter of \nAristotle, literally. I stood at his left side ready for him to \nlean on if \nneed be. Aristotle was supporting Pythias. On her other side \nstood Aristotle's kinsman Theophrastos. \nThe priest-physician and our party went on into the proper prayers. \nI gazed around the inner precincts with eyes increasingly cleansed by \nthe growing light. There were many good images. Asklepios the little \nchild, the newborn babe - surrounded by soft flames or light rays. \nAsklepios the Beloved, the Great Healer. This is a really good statue \nof the healer seated on a throne with snakes like wheels standing out \nin relief along the sides of \nthe chair. Asklepios holds his staff with the \nsnake entwined around it. His long curly hair and luxuriant curling \nbeard make him look slightly foreign, like a Phoenician. His face is \nnoble, the eyes wonderfully carved and deeply set. They look off \ninto \nthe distance with a suggestion of suffering and hope - yet these eyes \nseem also to look at you, with a look of \ngreat compassion. Behind the \n5 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nhealer there is a large votive relief showing Asklepios with his sons, \nthe two physicians, one Machaon the surgeon and the other \nPodaleirios, a treater of internal ills. And a good tall image of his \ndaughter Hygieia. One may hope not to need Asklepios' sons, but \neveryone wants his daughter, who is Health itself. \nAt that moment we were all together there in that tight little \nsanctuary, close to the healer -\nAristotle and Pythias, myself, \nTheophrastos. Together, alive and safe. The light glided in and struck \nthe wall, so that I could now see clearly the thank-offering images \nhung upon it. Some of these were crudely carved sticks, others \nelaborately polished wood with fine carving. Not a few were in silver \nthat made a pleasant glitter in the sunbeams. One bronze image of a \nfull-sized big toe glistened with polish, and was adorned with a \nminiature garland. A leg, a hand, an eye, a penis. Here, a shield \nshowed gratitude for delivery from war. There, part of a ship carved \nin marble - a sign of someone saved from shipwreck, or recovered \nfrom physical damage wrought by a shipwreck. Garlands of real hair \nfluffed out on pictured wooded heads, images of children made well. \nAll gave assurance of the power of the divine Physician, and the \nstrength of healing of the dark earth, the sacred springs, and the \nserpent who comes from the depths. \nWe departed from the sanctuary, Pythias leaning on her husband, \nafter the priest-physician gave some instructions, which seemed to \ninvolve chiefly change of diet and sitting in a warm place in the \nsunlight. Pythias had to be helped carefully into the litter. We set off \nagain, Aristotle limping a little from the sciatic trouble. It was \nespecially irritating to someone as active and restless as he - his group \nhave been called 'the Peripatetics' because he liked lecturing while \nwalking about. He preferred in general to be in motion. I wasn't \nworried that Aristotle would be permanently crippled. The \nphilosopher was still surprisingly active for a man of his age, even if \nhe suffered intermittently from sciatic complaint, especially after he \nwas careless or forgetful enough to sit very long on a damp marble \n6 \n\n\nTHE SANCTUARY OF ASKLEPIOS \nbench. As for Pythias, she would soon be delivered of \nher trouble and \nAristotle would have the son he long had wished for. The priest-\nphysician had been right, perhaps, to be a little alarmed about the risk \nof a birth within the shrine, as is forbidden absolutely in the holy \nplace, for Pythias was evidently near her time. \nAristotle himself seemed relieved and expansive. \n'I have so seldom been here,' he said, 'but Pythias wished to come. \nI would have liked us to go to the Asklepion in Peiraieus, which is in \nsome ways finer than this one, and I think has better priests. And \nmany associations too - you remember it in Aristophanes' Ploutos? \nBut that is too far for her to travel, while it was quite practicable for \nus to come here. She will be easier in her mind.' \n'What did they prescribe?' I asked, more from a sort of politeness \nthan real curiosity. \n'The usual sort of thing, you know. Hydromel when she can keep \nnothing else down, for the honey-and-water mixture will quench \nthirst and supply food for the baby. Liquids are good. Eggs, too. \nSitting in the sunshine - fortunately we have a ,,Courtyard where she \ncan do that. They consider it partly an eye problem. When she \nrecovers she is to offer at the shrine an image of an eye - as for me, I \nshould donate the image of a leg. I shall have them done in silver I \nthink, and we will sacrifice a pig. By the time we have the images \nmade, we shall have our baby - our boy, as I hope and believe.' \n'At least,' I said, 'you have already sacrificed a cock. In advance.' \n\"'A cock for Asklepios.\" Sokrates' last words - as I know you will \nrecall. The cock cries at dawn, so thists an offering for day, for light \nand life itself. When we are born we see daylight, enjoy the gift of \nour \nfirst dawning. In sacrificing a cock we give thanks for the new day.' \n'But Sokrates said that just before he died,' I objected. 'He didn't \nget a new day. They were putting him to death at the time.' \n'Sokrates must have meant in thanksgiving for the new day, even \nthough it was to be his last. But more truly, I suppose, he meant an \noffering of thanksgiving for the whole of his life, for the gift of \nbirth. \n7 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nFor being permitted to exist and to have a human life in the world. \nTo live is a wonderful thing! When we get back to the Lykeion, let us \nlook up Plato's account in his wonderful book.' \nWe had left the Akropolis and skirted the Agora, already beginning \nto fill with the morning crowds, as we made for the city gate. \nAlthough they now had the benefit of \ndaylight, the bearers of \nPythia's \nlitter had a hard time in threading through some of \nthe narrow streets \nwith their burden. Men hammering metal or making chairs seemed \ndetermined to carry out their work on the footway, making the path \ndifficult. Children ran up to us to try to sell us things. One of \nthem, a \nlittle fellow wrapped in a cloak with a thick hood, was most persistent, \npoking some shabby herbs at us. At length Aristotle took the faded \nfennel and tossed him a coin: 'just to get rid of \nhim,' as he explained. \n'That child doesn't look very healthy,' I said. 'He probably has \nsome illness if he is so wrapped up and hooded when it is nearly \nmidsummer. \n' \nIndeed, the day was growing warm already, though midsummer \nwas some twenty days away. Outside the city, harvests were ripening, \nor had already been gathered. Hay had been cut. Sweet roses \nbloomed briefly and you could smell flowers even in Athens, where \nyou cannot see the gardens that flourish behind house walls. \nIt would have been a relatively short journey to return to my own \nhouse; the way back to Aristotle's house was slightly further, long \nenough for slaves with a burden. (Not that Pythia was heavy - far \nfrom it - but the litter itself was an awkward object.) Aristotle lived \noutside the city gates, in the opposite direction from Plato's \nAkademeia, which was likewise outside the city gates. Aristotle lived \nin an eastern region, well watered by the Ilissos river and shaded with \nplane trees - a lovely area, though at that time quite noisy with the \nbuilding of the new Stadium. His celebrated school was in the \nprecinct named for Apollo Lykeios, the god of wolves - who, \ncuriously, also keeps wolves away. Aristotle's school was referred to \nas 'the Lykeion', just like the nearby gymnasium at which the young \n8 \n\n\nTHE SANCTUARY OF ASKLEPIOS \nmen did their military service training. He took private students, and \nhad special scholars working with him, but the area was a place of \nopen groves and free discussion; the Lykeion neighbourhood was a \ngathering-place for philosophers and philosophy-seekers. Most of \nAristotle's celebrated lectures were public in the good old fashion. \nThe area had always been full of young men, so it was a good place \nto gamer those who wanted to engage in intellectual conversation. \nAristotle had to rent accommodation for his family and his school. \nThe law of \nAthens prohibited aliens, even a resident alien, a metoikos \nlike Aristotle, from owning any property. Thus, even though he had \nbeen Plato's best - and probably favourite - student, Plato could not \nbequeath the Akademeia to him. Aristotle had left Athens for a long \ntime after the death of Plato. When he came back, married to this \nforeign woman, he rented his own residence in the Lykeion area. He \nhad sunk some of his personal money in the place, adding on and \ncreating outbuildings. His needs included an inordinate amount of \nspace for books. Any major changes had to be approved by the city, \nand of course his improvements represented a loss, as he could not \nsell the place to another, nor legally bequeath it to his heirs. \nWhen we arrived at the Lykeion, Aristotle was visibly anxious to see \nthat Pythias was immediately settled in their home. 'She is tired and \nneeds to rest,' he said. \n'Herpyllis will look after me,' said a muffled voice from within the \nlitter. \n'Olympos and Phokon will help us and put the litter away,' \nAristotle planned. 'So, Theophrastos, why don't you take Stephanos \ninto our Thinkery and introduce him? Treat him to one of \nour modest \nmeals? 1 shall join you later.' \nThe slaves set the litter down and helped their mistress out of it. \nVery gently Aristotle took her hand, and then put his arm around her. \nThe two went up the shallow flight of \ngarden steps to the house door. \n1 heard her say 'I am so glad Herpyllis is here now. You need not \ncome in if \nyou have your visitor.' \n9 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'Of \ncourse I shall see you in, my darling,' said Aristotle in a tone I \nhad never heard him use before. \nTheophrastos took charge of \nme and conveyed me a different way to \nthe school's main buildings. I knew the Lykeion well - I had studied \nthere myselffor all too short a time, attracted by Aristotle's reputation \nand then by his intellect, until my father's business dealing grew so \nentangled and his means so straitened that I had had to leave. Shortly \nafter that, my father died, and my family was plunged in chaos. I was \nby no means one of the best students at the Lykeion and the lack of \nmy presence cannot have been any blow to Aristotle. But I turned to \nmyoId teacher later. After the death of my father, when my cousin \nwas accused of murder and our family was besieged by difficulties, I \ncame to ask Aristotle for help, though I had no claim upon him. I had \nturned up at his house, seeking advice, one day in the early autumn, \nnearly three years before this morning's visit to the Asklepion. I had \nreason to be glad I did so, for the philosopher's generous intellect and \npractical activity saved our family from disaster. Aristotle and I had \nrecently been involved in another curious crime, when we had \npursued an abducted heiress to Delphi in the spring of \nthis same year \nwhose summer warmth we were now enjoying. \nDespite my growing friendship with Aristotle, however, I was by no \nmeans familiar with the Lykeion in its present state. Changes had \nbeen wrought since my time, as Theophrastos pointed out to me. \n'We had to add more space - we extended the book room, simply \nbecause we had so many books. That's not counting the ones that \nAristotle keeps in his own house.' I nodded, for I had seen him at \nhome in his personal room with its surprising quantity of \nbooks. 'We \nhave a special compartment for keeping especially valuable rolls dry \nand clean,' Theophrastos went on. 'Aristotle calls it \"the book-\npantry\". And he designed this room.' \nWe were entering a long room - about twice the length I remem-\nbered. The upper half of each wall was now lined with shelves and \n10 \n\n\nTHE SANCTUARY OF ASKLEPIOS \ncompartments for book-rolls. The room smelt sweetly of \nthe wood; it \nstruck me that these boards, obviously of very good quality, must \nhave been a costly importation, since wood is extremely scarce in \nAthens. In the lower middle of \nthe wall below the book compartments \nand at waist height was a wide shelf running around the whole room, \nmaking a sort of universal work space. The light came in from \nwindows high up under the roof, to keep rain out. \n'Aristotle calls this room \"the book kitchen\". We write here as well \nas read. He designed those windows and had shades of linen made, \nso the sun doesn't fall directly on the rolls when they are open, and \nfade them,' Theophrastos explained. I could see that on the side of \nthe room which the sun struck the windows were covered with strips \nof cloth. \n'And now we have so many plants and specimens sent by \nKallisthenes we are housing them in a special plant room.' He turned \ntowards the door. 'Oh, here's Demetrios.' \nA young man of \nmost striking and unusual beauty came into view. \nThis Demetrios was tall and well-shaped, with an admirable - nay, \nperfect - nose; his hair, worn rather long, was a sunny colour even in \nthis pleasantly shady room. 'Demetrios of Phaleron,' Theophrastos \nintroduced us. 'Stephanos of Kydathenion.' I wondered fleetingly \nwhy Theophrastos introduced us by naming the deme rather than by \nfather's name; such a beautiful young man must have an eminent \nfather. Demetrios nodded kindly to me. Although he could not have \nbeen much more than twenty years of age, the aristocratic youth \nseemed possessed of \ngreat aplomb. \n'Demetrios has done most of these wonderful drawings,' \nTheophrastos explained. 'Demetrios, do move those shades a \nmoment so Stephanos can see better.' \nI now realised that against one wall, resting on the very furthest \nreach of the wide shelf, there were a series of \ndrawings and diagrams. \nThis was certainly not like the usual picture gallery! No Daphnes or \nAndromedas. They were the oddest things. Here was a picture \n11 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF UFE \ndevoted to an animal's leg, its parts labelled. There was a womb, and \na scrotum with the testes - the central figures without any bodies \nattached. One picture was full of \nvarious spiny fish, with crustaceans \ndisplayed in a strip at the lower edge. \n'Exceedingly well done,' I exclaimed politely, looking at these \nuncouth images of squid and sea-urchins. 'You have a variety of \ningredients in your \"book-kitchen\".' \nDemetrios of Phaleron laughed. 'You must not think,' he assured \nme, 'that Aristotle thinks it denigrating for us to refer to his \"pantry\" \nand his \"kitchen\". He claims the centre of the body is a kind of \nkitchen or furnace. The stomach is always busy cooking, and the \nheart too, kindling and sustaining the natural heat, without which the \nsoul cannot function. And the nourishment -' \n'Is transmitted to the rest of the body,' continued Theophrastos. \n, \"Where every part continues the work and cooks with its own heat\",' \nthe two chorused, evidently repeating well-known phrases and \nopinions of the master. A curly-haired youth came into the room, \nattracted by their amusement. \n'Ah, here's Mikon. Stephanos, son of Nikiarkhos. Mikon, son of \nThrasymakhos.' The merry little fellow of some fourteen summers \ncame confidently up to us. That he was well-born I could have \ndeduced from the fact that Theophrastos made such a formal \nintroduction of \nthis child. 'Mikon has made unusual progress. And he \nhas assisted in creating the pictures - he has done much of the \nshading and coloration.' \n'Impressive,' I agreed. 'What are the pictures for?' \n'They're going to go into books,' Mikon exclaimed. 'And be read \nby everybodyf \n'When they are finished,' Demetrios explained. 'That is the idea -\nthey will be copied into the books on animals that Aristotle has been \nworking on.' \n'And then,' added Mikon, 'there are all the new plants to examine.' \n'Yes,' said Demetrios. 'Let us show you, Stephanos. Aristotle's \n12 \n\n\nTHE SANCTUARY OF ASKLEPIOS \nnephew Kallisthenes, who travels with Alexander, has sent us new \nplants from Asia.' \n'I should like to see them,' I said politely. I knew from Aristotle's \ntalk of Kallisthenes that he held this nephew in high regard. So did \nAlexander of Makedon. Kallisthenes, as an outstanding scholar and \nwriter, had been chosen by Alexander to accompany him to Asia. \nAristotle's nephew was now travelling with Alexander and his army in \norder to write the official history of the Great War with Persia that \nwas taking place. Or had taken place. As Alexander now held \nPersepolis and Babylon, it only remained to find and kill King Darius \nof Persia. But I hadn't quite realised that Kallisthenes was still a kind \nof partner in Aristotle's own labours, providing him with a steady \nsupply of \nAsian materials for his natural studies. \nWe went from this 'book kitchen' to the next room through a short \ncorridor with a door at each end. I presumed efforts had been made \nto shut off the room of living specimens so that the damp and smell \nshould not pervade the book room. In various places on the wall and \nhanging from hooks in the ceiling were innumerable (so it seemed) \nroots and branches. One bush had ruffied rosy bloom upon it - most \nattractive, with an interesting smell. But many of the plants seemed \ndull, dry and withered. \n'It is hard to keep them,' said Demetrios, following my gaze. \n'Kallisthenes packs them cleverly in damp moss and so on, but they \ndo suffer. And Athens' air is probably saltier than these upland plants \nare used to.' \nSome animal skeletons also hung from the ceiling (I thought I \nrecognised a dog). In tall thick pottery containers pieces of animals \nfloated. On a large work-table were scattered drawings of the plants \nand a number of \nwriting tablets, some covered with information. \n'This is our \"back kitchen\" or \"slaughterhouse\",' explained \nDemetrios. 'Nowadays we tend to call it \n\"the plant room\". But we are \nmainly interested in animals.' \n'Who is writing?' I asked, looking at the tablets. \n13 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'We all do. We design a description on the wax tablet,' explained \nDemetrios. 'Then we discuss it - and if we agree upon it, someone \ncopies it out into the big book that is the draft of our eventual \ncatalogue. Here's Hipparkhos of Argos. He can explain some things \nbetter than I can, especially the animals.' \nHipparkhos was a big eager-looking man with a long face and long \nsensible nose. \n'And do you work on horses?' I enquired. As this man's name \nmeans 'master of horses' - really, Master of Horse, describing a \ncavalry leader - I thought this pleasantry rather clever. I might not \nhave thought of \nit had Hipparkhos not looked so like a horse himself. \nBut he frowned at my frivolous question, looking like a horse in \nperplexity. \n'We have no great variety of horses here. The common horse is a \nwell-known quadruped. Could we obtain a different sort of horse \nfrom Asia, of course we should like that. Aristotle is looking for a \nvariety of animal kinds. I'm working with Eudemos here in writing \ndescriptions.' \n'Stephanos, son of Nikiarkhos of Athens.' Theophrastos' tone \nmoved to extreme formality, so I guessed almost before I saw him that \nthis newcomer was very well born. 'Eudemos of Rhodos.' \nEudemos was tall, with dark curling hair; he was much more \nhandsome than one expects in a scholar, though not as statuesque as \nyoung Demetrios. Eudemos acknowledged me with aristocratic ease. \nWithout unnecessary change of \nfacial expression he murmured some \nconventional expressions of his pleasure. 'And Arkhandros of \nLampsakos.' Arkhandros was pale, like a root vegetable kept too long \nin a cellar, and his black hair only emphasised his pallor. \n'These scholars,' Theophrastos explained, 'all assist in the great \nundertaking. They are Aristotle's chief \n- er -' \n'You may call us assistants,' said Eudemos politely. 'Along with \nTheophrastos here, the scholar on whom the master most relies. We \nare Aristotle's cooks. We cut up animals and plants.' \n14 \n\n\nTHE SANCTUARY OF ASKLEPIOS \n'But it IS more than that,' exclaimed young Mikon. 'We are going \nto produce a rational plan of \nall the things that are - so everything that \nis will be known.' \n'All that is! That is too tall an order.' Aristotle had come up behind \nus. 'But we are trying to explore the universe of \nNature, and to create \nrational categories for living beings.' \n'Without the appropriate categories, thinking cannot happen,' \nadded Arkhandros, probably quoting or paraphrasing something he \nhad heard from Aristotle himself. \n'You see what great steps we are taking in our journey towards \nknowledge, Stephanos,' Aristotle said to me. 'This is something I \nhave been working on since I was a young man - after I left Plato's \nAkademeia - but it was not possible to complete it when I was \nworking on my own. Now I have these able assistants and scholars' -\nhe waved a comprehensive hand - 'to aid me, so we proceed apace. \nAs Herodotos wrote his gigantic enquiry into the whole nature and \ndevelopment of \nthe war between Persians and Greeks, so I am writing \na full account of \nthe animals. Here we observe and write down all the \ndifferences between them that allow us to set them into different \nclasses. We observe the wonderful order which is everywhere in the \ncosmos, though sometimes seeming too small - or too large - for us \nto see.' \nI murmured politely, but I felt somewhat repelled by the musty \nearthy odour of \nthe plant roots, and even more by the meaty contents \nof the pots. \n'It seems strange for a philosopher to be concerned with animals,' \nI remarked. \n'But why? As we are, as Plato suggests, featherless bipeds, we \nshould have respect for the animals. We study Art - why not Nature, \nso much greater than the arts? We must not pout because flesh or \nblood or spines or beaks or organs are distasteful - we can leave \nchildish exclamations of \ndisgust to children. The question is, how can \nwe discuss a world which we do not know? We live in ignorance, and \n15 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nour descriptions are partial and irregular. The same with calendars-\nyou know that I have been interested in collecting accounts of the \nOlympian and Pythian Games, and so on. Not because I am \npeculiarly concerned with athletic events, but because these lists give \nus measurements of \ntime - year after year. Eventually - soon - we can \nconstruct a regular world calendar, with all events set on a line of \ntime, giving us a uniform picture of temporal reality without which \nhistory - the study of mankind - isn't possible.' \nI felt a bit alarmed at this notion. 'I like Athenian time,' I said. \n'Well, let us say that in Athenian time and Lykeion time we call it \n\"time to eat\". Stay to take food with us,' said Aristotle. 'I shall eat \nwith the scholars and pupils today, as Pythias is very fatigued and \nneeds to lie down. Fortunately she has Herpyllis with her. A real \ntreasure! - a household slave from my mother's family in Euboia. \nShe's an accomplished nurse, and good with children. Pythias thinks \nthe world of \nher. I encouraged Pythias to lie down as I really don't like \nthe swelling in her ankles,' he added. I was embarrassed by being \nmade the recipient of \nsuch intimate information. But Aristotle had no \nclose relative of his own nearby (except perhaps for Theophrastos, \nwhose exact degree of kinship remained undefmed), and I supposed \nhe needed to share these family details with someone. \n'Mikon, do you call the others into the Refectory,' Eudemos \ncommanded. 'Tell them the meal is ready now.' Mikon departed \neagerly. \n'I should add that it is a very humble meal,' said Aristotle. 'We \ndon't drink wine when we are working in the middle of \nthe day. Very \nPythagorean, our repast. I promise you, we'll see to it that you are not \nserved anything in those pots!' \nWe departed from the room of specimens and went into a long \nroom, an indoor lecture hall, where the slaves had set up plank tables \non trestles. Stools were placed along the edge. It was a simple \narrangement for a simple meal. The little band of \nyoung students filed \nin, led by Mikon. They were healthy and sun-tanned, laughing and \n16 \n\n\nTHE SANCTUARY OF ASKLEPIOS \ntalking, their din only a little repressed by the presence of Aristotle \nand the senior scholars. Their presence and chatter added a note of \ncheer. But one among them seemed sad and withdrawn, and stared \ndown at his plate without consuming anything. \n'How do you like our arrangement?' Aristotle asked me. 1 was \nseated in the position of honour, on his right, a post usually, 1 \nimagined, reserved for Eudemos or Theophrastos. 'Very much as it \nwas in your day, 1 recall. We often eat out of doors now the weather \nis so fine, but it is easier and quicker for the slaves to set everything \nup here when there are a number of \npersons.' \n'And your slaves have had a wearisome slow errand to the \nAkropolis already. How did your visit to the shrine of \nAsklepios go, 0 \nAristotle?' enquired Demetrios. \n'Oh - well, just as those things always do,' said Aristotle. 1 thought \nhe wasn't best pleased that his personal life should be the subject of \ngeneral conversation in these surroundings. 'Do you know,' he added \nwith a more general glance around, 'I am myself supposedly \ndescended from Asklepios, through his son Machaon?' \n'Then you should be a surgeon and slice things open,' said \nHipparkhos. 'By the way, how are we going to deal with all our \nspecimens now that it is so warm? Will they survive the hot weather?' \n'The weather has become most agreeable, hasn't it?' remarked \nEudemos, who was on Aristotle's left. 'The month of \nSkiraphorion is \ndelightful- especially as it has only antique and unimportant festivals. \nThe Skira itself, for one. Quite charming. The procession of the \npriestess of Athena, the priest of Poseidon and the priest of the Sun \nall tramping out on the west road under a white canopy. And the best \nof \nit is, nobody knows what it means.' \n'This is also the month of the Dipolieia,' remarked Theophrastos. \n'The festival of Zeus Polieus, guardian of \nthe city.' \n'And the biggest sacrifice of the Dipolieia is the Buphonia. The \ntime of the ox-slaying has come again! An Athenian custom. We \nought to go.' \n17 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'Perhaps,' said Aristotle, 'we can make up a party to see the murder \nof the ox. Would you come, Stephanos? It is probably a long while \nsince you saw the Bouphonia.' \n'Thank you,' I said politely. \nChanging the topic, I asked Aristotle, idly enough, about the pale, \nunsociable pupil. 'Who is the young fellow who seems so sad?' \n'He? You may actually have heard of him before, Theophrastos \ntold me about him when you and I were coming back from Delphi in \nthe early spring. Young Parmenion there was in a bad way. He gets \nvery tearful and sad, often for no reason. And sometimes he has \noutbursts. He seemed better in the late spring, though I know he now \nhas a real cause for concern, as he is worried about where his father \nis. But his troubles seem to be largely in his own mind, and I fear they \nnow increase again. \n'Perhaps, Theophrastos -' to this gentleman, who was seated on \nmy right -\n'you can tell us more of the condition of young \nParmenion. \n' \n'Bad and getting worse,' said Theophrastos. 'I thought his bad \nmood was lifting, but now I fear it may be seriously deteriorating. We \nshould really take him home, I fear. He's too young to send on his \nown.' \n'He is the grandson of the great general Parmenion, isn't he? \nStrange in one of \nsuch descent - if on the wrong side of \nthe blanket -\nto show such weakness of \nmind,' said Hipparkhos. 'But as for taking \nhim home - might be dangerous. Things are still disturbed in the \nEast.' \n'We might have army protection. Certainly his whole family, \nincluding his father, is friendly to the royal house. Above all, great \nParmenion, once chief Companion of King Philip and now \nAlexander's second-in-command,' said Theophrastos, in his precise \nmanner. Theophrastos always loved to get facts in order. 'It is true \nthat this boy's father was not a legitimate son of \nthe great general, but \nhe has always been treated quite as one of the family.' \n18 \n\n\nTHE SANCTUARY OF ASKLEPIOS \n'The boy was allowed to be named after his grandfather,' observed \nHipparkhos. \n'Quite so. And Parmenion's legitimate son Philotas, a brilliant \ngeneral in his own right and one of \nthe Companions of \nAlexander, is \nvery fond of this nephew. The lad has reason to hope for favour and \nassistance - but we still are not quite sure where to find his father, \nArkhebios. As a Makedonian soldier, he serves in Alexander's army. \nAt one time he was in the island of Rhodos, helping with the \npacification. There is a possibility he has been moved to Kos.' \n'Well, you or Eudemos might take a trip eastward,' said Aristotle \njovially. 'Eudemos might like to go - he comes from Rhodos, after all. \nA pity that we cannot do anything for the boy here. Perhaps a visit to \na really good centre of medicine would help. Kos itself might help \nhim.' \nDismissing that subject, he turned back to me. \n'Well what do you think of our Lykeion now?' he asked. 'Grown \nsince your time, hasn't it?' \n'It has,' I acknowledged. I didn't quite like thinking of \n'my time' as \na long way off. \n'Our book collection \nis \nconsiderable \nnow. \nFortunately, \nTheophrastos loves the books - taking care of \nthem, I mean. He never \nlets them get dusty, nor the tabs get out of place. He sees to it that \neverything goes back to its correct location. As you see, we have \nattracted many excellent scholars to work with us. Eudemos comes \nfrom a very distinguished family in Rhodos, but he has spent his time \nhere working, with his hands as well as his mind, on Asian plants. As \nhe is from that region he has a familiarity that others might not. \nThough I myself had spent time on the Asian coast at Assos and in \nLesbos. I came to know the coastal region of Asia pretty well, years \nago. It was there I first seriously began studying animals, looking at \nthe life of \nthe shores, observing the rays and squid and crustaceans.' \n'So, you are going to try to describe everything that lives?' \n'That is what we would like to do - but it is too ambitious! Yet it is \n19 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \npossible to work with such a multitude of \nkinds that what we say will \nbe right. All men - even scholars - have lived hitherto with insuffi-\ncient categories - even an entirely insufficient idea of \nwhat a category \nis. And truly we need to investigate systematically. We study the \nparticulars. \n' \n'Aristotle thinks,' said Demetrios, 'that there is a kind of art in \nNature - even in the small things.' \n'Assuredly, yes. \nNothing is \nunimportant. \nConsider what \nHerakleitos said on the privy: \"Come in; there are gods even here.\" \nThere is a beauty in the intricacy of \nbodies - of \nliving bodies. For the \nbody is no mere shape - not just a \"form\" as the vulgar and even some \nwho are educated think of \nforms - but a point of \ndevelopment and of \nactivity. Nature is a dynamic specialist. She prefers to make each \norgan perfect to serve one purpose. Not a cheap worker like the \nhumble smith who for utility makes you a brass lampstand-and-meat-\nspit in one! Think of what we have seen of the vessels that carry the \nblood -' \n'Though these are very difficult to observe,' said Demetrios \nseriously. 'It is hard to peer into the inner secrets of nature. We can \ncut an animal open, of course - but then the life is gone even as we \nobserve it, and the blood gushes away.' \n'We have found,' said Hipparkhos, 'that for observation it is \nsometimes better to starve the animal so that the blood vessels stand \nout sharply. But of course we do not succeed in seeing all the blood \nvessels, even in that manner.' \n'But what we do discern is very regular and beautifully ordered,' \nsaid Aristotle. 'Like the rills and channels in a well-arranged and well-\nwatered garden, where the skilled gardener has created a main \nchannel and then conducted many little rivulets out from it.' \n'That's the kind of comparison Theophrastos loves,' remarked \nEudemos. 'I'm not sure he didn't first suggest it. Theophrastos loves \ngardens.' \nAristotle ignored this, being caught up in his subject. \n20 \n\n\nTHE SANCTUARY OF ASKLEPIOS \n'At the same time, mere particulars do not form the categories \nthemselves. Of course not! And our catalogue is not what we shall \npublish. That is just a beginning. Without method, without thought, \nall one has is mere lists. I could make a list of the times I pare my \nfingernails, and it would be quite true - and quite useless unless I had \nsome end in view. The end in view is not just knowledge of \nthe world \naround us, but also a real understanding of what life is. Life in this \nworld of coming-to-be and passing away. Our subject is nothing less \nthan Life itself.' \nHe quite took my breath away with the expanse of \nhis topic. \n'Of first importance,' said Aristotle, warming to his theme, 'is the \ninherent power of the intellect which leads it to perceive or divine -\nin some ways one might even say to generate - order. The intellect \nknows order as a participant in the divine Mind in the universe. Thus \nwe have already within us the power to perceive and speak of \ncategories. The idea is not created by molluscs and trees.' \n'Oh, quite, yes,' I agreed, indistinctly, as I was chewing on a tough \npiece of \nbread at the time. I was not certain that I was going to grasp \nall this. \n'The body exists for its perfection, which is the soul, the capacity to \nmove and beget and so on. It is absurd to think, as some do, that the \nsoul is \"in the body\" as a sailor is \"in a boat\". The soul is the form \nthe body seeks. Intellect is primary. But the lively intelligence using \nthe organs of \nthe body perceives the world. The understanding needs \nan assemblage of particulars - to chew on, if I may use such an \nanalogy.' His eyes twinkled as I hastily tried to swallow the bread I \nhad been doggedly masticating. \n'We need the details, the living particulars. It is possible to obtain \nan understanding of \nthe world by working with it, using the senses to \nexamine particulars. As long as one has a method. It is the mind that \nmust analyse - otherwise you're just left with a curious list, as I say. \nWe want to establish the attributes, so we can treat together animals \nthat are connected by their attributes. And in analysing living things, \n21 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nthe productions of nature, we look not for history but for causes. In \nNature the causes are ends, not beginnings. Always remember, \nNature creates for the future. In theoretical sciences, or in study of \nobjects of human art, we start with what already is. We think \nbackwards, about a history. A new statue has a kind of \nbeing, but no \nfuture, only a past. It lacks the signs of life. A puppy has a future. In \nstudy of \nnatural things we are always looking at what is going to be. In \nembryos of all kinds, including eggs, the beating heart, the sovereign \norgan, is formed first for the work it will do. A human embryo has \nhands because it will be a man who will use them.' \nThe others had become quiet, in order to listen to Aristotle's \nanimated speech. \n'So,' Eudemos said when Aristotle fell silent. 'By taking thought, \nand through a process of complete and regular observation - not \npiecemeal nor whimsical - we will arrive through particulars at \ngeneral truths.' \n'Yes,' added Hipparkhos. 'And you see the advantage. We will \ntruly know what species are. So when a new animal is discovered -\nPop! It goes into its correct category as soon as it appears.' \n'This world itself manifesting an order at once wonderfully \ncomplex and beautifully simple,' added Aristotle. He did not seem \ndaunted by the amount of \nwork that must remain to be done. His eyes \nsparkled. Though the meal had been as he promised, Pythagorean, of \nonly vegetables, bread, fruit and water, yet beholding his enthusiasm \none would think he had drunk a noble wine. \n'I am grateful to all my fellow-scholars here for their tireless work \nand wonderful insight,' Aristotle added. 'Together we can carry \nknowledge forward.' \n'It seems an odd thing, in a way,' I said. 'Philosophy - isn't it \nsupposed to deal with Truth, and the Good, or how to behave oneself \n- that sort of \nthing?' \n'Ahh!' Aristotle expanded. 'Philosophy is a love of all truth. Truth \nin the universe, right now, right here. Indeed, it is great and most \n22 \n\n\nTHE SANCTUARY OF ASKLEPIOS \nsweet to contemplate Truth and the Good. But who is it who \ncontemplates? An ignorant person or the reverse? The mind is open \nto the world, and opens that world. The good philosopher examines \nhis physical and his human world.' \n'Then, it is not a few Philosopher-Kings we need,' Demetrios \nobserved, 'but many true philosophers among the citizens.' \n'Yes, indeed. And it is proper to educate the young into a wide and \ntrue knowledge so they go into the world and create better societies, \nbetter states. You know, the philosopher should be a man who is \nprompt to aid his fellow men, who mingles with others and wants to \nhelp. It is a poor philosopher who remains deaf \nto a cry for help. And \nwith a higher, more rational and more benevolent form of state, a \npolitical life that is full and thoughtful and harmonious, men will be \nable to touch all about them - in a world not obscure or unknown to \nthem. Such an educated man will do more than exist. He will fully \nlive a life and not exist merely, like a plant or rock - or even as a \nbadger.' \n'Aristotle says,' Hipparkhos chimed in, 'that many men live in a \nblur and need to see.' \n'Thus it is,' said Aristotle, 'that in our work lie seeds of \na better life \nfor men to come. I truly believe, Stephanos, that the full study of \nphilosophy is of \nbenefit to all humankind.' \nHe beamed at me, at the young pupils, and at the table of \nattentive \nscholars around him, his friends and associates in the great endeavour. \nI have often thought subsequently of that day, when the Lykeion \nseemed a sanctuary full of life for Aristotle,. of thought and joyful \nplans, before sorrow and even despair had touched the life of the \nMaster. \n23 \n\n\nChapter II \n==~9_~~== \nc)\"--\"G \nMurdering an Ox \nThe expedition to see the ox-slaying, as suggested by Eudemos, \ndid truly come to pass. Aristotle's slave brought me a written \ninvitation to join the Lykeion party. I decided to go, and also to take \nmy little brother Theodoros with me as a treat. We all met on the \nslope of the Akropolis before the great Temple of Virgin Athena. \nTheodoros frisked and capered about me in excitement. There were \npeople enough, but not huge crowds. I could avoid persons I did not \nwant to meet, such as the grave citizen Theosophoros who had \ntaken such a decided part against our family during our earlier \ntroubles. I saw this man in the distance, looking quite as vinegary as \never. \nAristotle, as I had expected, was surrounded by his little cohort. \n'I think you know everybody by now,' he said. And I did. \nHipparkhos with his noble equine nose; Demetrios of \nPh \nale \nron with \nhis striking beauty and affable manner. Eudemos, so handsome, \ntalkative and easy-mannered, nobody could miss, and I even \nrecollected pale Arkhandros. They had in charge the little group of \nstudents, including doleful Parmenion and Mikon the cheerful. \nAfter I introduced Theodoros and gave him temporarily into the \n24 \n\n\nMURDERING AN OX \nolder boys' care, we all moved off together to the nearby precinct of \nZeus Protector of the City. \nMikon was useful in clearing others out of \nour path and pushing us \nalong so we could stay together. This caused some grumbling, not to \nsay altercation. \n'Mind what you're doing, young fellow,' said one citizen, while a \nmore peppery one remarked, 'If \nyou dig into me again like that, boy, \nI'll have your hide!' Theophrastos had to apologise for Mikon's zeal. \nSuch apologies were not directed to the more raffish of \nthe crowd. \nA group of town youths from the poorer neighbourhoods began to \ncall out abusive remarks, of the sort that indicate that one loves one's \nmother too much. This slowed our progress a little, as our boys were \nonly too quick to reply, even though Eudemos remonstrated, telling \nthem this was not gentle behaviour. One of \nthe town boys, a powerful, \nstrong-shouldered lad, challenged Mikon to fight him. When \nEudemos restrained our young scholar, the town boy hooted and \ncavorted in triumph. He turned his fingers into horns above his head \nand charged at us. \n'I'm a bull!' he bellowed. 'A bull! And you're cows. Sorry shit-tail \ncows! Cow!' he roared again at Mikon. \n'You'll be sorry,' said furious Mikon. 'My father is Thrasymakhos. \nHe's a very important man. He'll make you sorry.' \n'''My father is Thrassus,'\" the boy mimicked in the deliberate \nmistake of crude satire. 'I tell you, boy, your papa is a cow. Not an \nimportant cow - just a cow! Boo!' \nThe thick-necked boy rushed at us several times, stamping his feet \nand bellowing. Then he changed his game, and hopped along waving \nan imaginary sword in the air. \n'To me, men! Sound the war-cry! Clear away this chaff - hoI I'm \nAlexander. Yah-boo! 1 can beat the lot of you! I'll set you right, you \npale Medes and Persians!' \nThe bull-faced boy strutted beside us for a bit, imitating our walk, \nwhile his rude companions cheered him on. Then he made another \n25 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nfearful lunge, crying out, 'I am Alexander the ruler of \nAthens! I'm the \nking of all of you - cowards! Yah!' \nHe exhibited to Mikon and the timorous Parmenion a fearful face, \ndistorting his mouth widely over his teeth like a grinning satyr mask \nand making his eyes bulge alarmingly, as if they would depart from \ntheir sockets. Parmenion blenched, while Mikon and his best friend \nDorkon tried to break from restraint and start hitting. Our own pupils \n(including Theodoros for the nonce) began yelling too, as loudly as \nthe common herd of youths who opposed them, and I did not like \nTheodoros to hear what they said. (Although as my younger brother \nwent to school he would doubtless hear everything in his time.) \n'Our lads, being well-born, should not fight this scabby lot,' said \nEudemos loudly, 'but there seems no reason why we should not \ndiscipline these unruly youths.' \n'No, indeed,' said Hipparkhos, even more loudly. 'A good switch \nwould do the trick, I think.' \n'Or a good strong cane,' agreed Eudemos. 'You need our medicine, \nchildren?' He started towards them. The bull-like boy and his friends \nmade off, sufficiently prompted by further strong suggestions \nregarding the medicinal use and practical efficacy of canes and \nswitches. Of course the men could not carry out these threats as the \nlouts, however vulgar and ill-behaved, were presumably the sons of \ncitizens. It is a serious offence to commit an outrage against a citizen \nor citizen's child by clutching or beating him, unless (like a \nschoolmaster) one has the parent's consent. At least, with the boys \nsent off, the valiant Mikon could be released from his elders' \nrestraining hands. We continued on our way and approached the \nscene of the morning's ritual action. \n'How old is this ceremony exactly?' Demetrios asked Aristotle. \n'Well, you know The Clouds of \nAristophanes - we should read that \nplay this afternoon with the boys, I think. The rite was certainly old \nby Aristophanes' time. In that play you remember, young \nPheidippides, a member of the younger generation who believes he is \n26 \n\n\nMURDERING AN OX \nso much wiser than his father Strepsiades, despises older people and \ngood advice. Such a view is encouraged by Wrong Reasoning, who \njeers at the old ways. Wrong Reasoning refers to \"these archaic things \nlike the Dipolieia and brooches made of cicadas, Kedeides' obscene \ndances and the Bouphonia.\" Nowadays we wouldn't wear brooches \nmade of cicadas, but the Bouphonia survives.' \n'And so do some obscene dances,' observed Eudemos. \n'It's starting!' cried Theodoros. The acolytes were placing sacred \nwheat and barley on the stone altar. \nNow a little procession of oxen, four or five, were led into the \nsacred space. They looked used and tired, long beyond their first \nyouth. If \na plough-ox has to be sacrificed it makes more sense to use \none near the end of its time. Led or urged by their keepers, and \nfollowed by two hooded priests of \nZeus, the beasts went round about \nthe altar, as they had to do until one of their number should choose \nto be sacrificed. At last one ox lost its fear, lifted its heavy head and \nscented the food. It extended its thick meek neck above the altar \nstone, and started to eat the grain. That was the sign. A hooded priest \napproached, as the happy ox was still eating. A long string of saliva \ndripped from its mouth. The hooded priest lifted a bronze axe - and \nstruck. He struck well, a single blow. The beast fell at once, with one \nbellowing moan that became its expiring breath. It lay lifeless. \n'Now is the interesting part,' whispered Aristotle. \nThe priest who had struck the blow then fled away. (A path had \nbeen cleared, so spectators would not impede the ritual flight.) The \naxe was taken by the other attendant, who pronounced upon the case: \n'I \ndeclare we must search for the doer of \nthis murder. And the \naxe that has committed the murder must be tried.' \nWe followed the priest and acolytes and officials away from \nthe sanctuary of Zeus, filing into the precinct of the Prytaneion \nCourt. The axe was held up for inquest in a ritual trial for killing: \n'Whose is the axe?' \n27 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'It is the axe of \nthe man who struck the mortal blow.' \n'Where is the man who slew?' \n'He is being sought for.' \n'Is this surely the axe that struck the fateful blow?' \n'It is, assuredly.' \n'How do you know?' \n'I saw the deed done with my own eyes. I picked up the \nimplement from beside the body.' \n'Then by the power of this court and the law of this city \nAthens and the right of \nthe murdered I condemn this axe. This \nimplement has no more a right to abide here, and must leave \nAthens for ever. I condemn it to be thrown into the sea and be \nno more seen. Let no murdering object remain in our city.' \nThe axe was then borne away for the sentence to be immediately \nexecuted. \nOf course, the same sort of trial would have taken place in the \nPrytaneion had any inanimate object killed a person. Even if \nan object \n(like a dropped pot or windblown tile) kills a man by accident, it must \nhave a court sit on its case and be judged and thrown out of the city. \nWhatever has killed a man is contaminated. Not long before, a man \nhad been slaughtered by a blow struck with a mallet, and the wooden \nimplement had been sentenced in the same way as this axe. What \nmakes the Bouphonia extraordinary is that the 'murder' is only of a \nplough-ox. Yet the killing (which is really committed by the whole \ncity) is treated as a private and abominable murder. \n'It makes no sense,' said Demetrios. 'Entertaining, however, if \nmeaningless. ' \n'Not meaningless, no. It must seem odd to anybody now, I think,' \nsaid Aristotle. 'For we now consider murder as the deliberate killing of \none intelligent being - a human - by another intelligent being -\nhuman also. This custom makes us realise that we did not always see \nit thus. The ritual supposedly comes from the reign of King \n28 \n\n\nMURDERING AN OX \nErekhtheus, in the dawn of time, just as Athens began to come into \nbeing. The best explanation I have hit upon is that the Bouphonia \ncommemorates the moment when human beings decided not only to \ntame animals but to kill them - to breed them for killing and eating. \nBut perhaps something like the rite existed even earlier, to com-\nmemorate with sorrow the fateful decision that man has the right to \nkill any animals for human food.' \n'And we still feel guilt for that,' said Theophrastos. 'That is why I \nwant our boys to see the Bouphonia, to make them aware of \nwhat we \ndo. For we treat our animals as household mates and friends, and \nthen they are killed off by us and eaten. We have - most of us - self-\nrestraint enough to keep our hands from murder. But we lay violent \nhands on innocent animals, even those who do us other service, like \nthe ox that ploughs and helps us to get the good grain from the earth. \nThus I think the Pythagoreans are most right, or at least most \nconsistent, who bar the eating of meat.' \n'Let's go back and see the ox now,' suggested Mikon. We returned \nto the original site of the 'murder'. The ox had been stripped of its \nhide and the corpse or carcass was now on a huge spit over a fire. \nPeople crowded around, especially those from the poorer districts, \neagerly awaiting their feast. The smell of roast meat began to drift \nover the Akropolis. The ox hide, cleverly and quickly stripped off \nthe \ncarcass, with the head still attached, was being rapidly stuffed with \nhay and straw. As his meat roasted, the beast began to reappear in this \nimitation -\nhis height, his shape, but not his motion, cleverly \nreproduced. \n'There,' said Aristotle. 'I could not have created a better example. \nIt \nperfectly illustrates the difference between form as living entity and \nform as mere shape. \"Form\" in the sense of \"shape\" is not enough -\nthis is not the ox. It is a simulacrum oflife but lacks the signs ofliving. \nMere shape does not make life.' \n'What does make life?' I asked idly. 'Not just in the case of \nthis ox, \nbut in general. Why is something dead or not?' \n29 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nAristotle laughed. 'There you have the mystery of life, Stephanos. \nBut we certainly know that a statue - or a corpse - is not a man. \nLiving form requires function and motion. Life is activity realised in \nmaterial.' \nThe new 'ox', lacking in signs of \nlife but standing up, was hitched, \ninertly obedient, to a plough. As if the events of the day were but a \ngame for it and it could go back to work as it had yesterday. \n'There's Papa!' Mikon waved at a tall, dignified gentleman who \nstood with a small group of \nhis friends. They were obviously important \npersonages, with their retinue of \nslaves behind them. These friends of \nMikon's papa unfortunately included the grave citizen Theosophoros \nof the acid wit, a man whom I knew and did not like. But there was \nalso the much younger and more genially witty Euphorbos, whom I \ndid not know, but thought I should like. Thrasymakhos, the papa of \nMikon, a well-born man with a noble and severe countenance, was \nknown to me by sight. He had held some public offices, and had made \na couple of well-received speeches, giving him a claim to the title of \norator. This man was of \none of the oldest Athenian families, although \nhe was also related to the foreign orator Thrasymakhos of Khalkedon \nwho figures in Plato's dialogues. This distinguished Athenian, leaving \nhis acquaintance for a moment, courteously came towards us. \n'Good day, Aristotle. I see you are taking good care of my little \ncurly-head troublemaker here. Is this a holiday? Or are you at work?' \n'Both. We study the ritual and its history.' \n'And we're going to read The Clouds today, too, Hipparkhos says,' \nadded Mikon. \nThrasymakhos did not comment on the suitability of \nAristophanes' \nsatiric critique of Sokrates and his educational system as reading \nmatter for the young, but responded with simple approbation: \n'Good. Good. Yes, I like to see the true ancient Athenian customs \nlike our Bouphonia preserved. Now, who are all these? Theophrastos \nI know, but am I correct in thinking that I do not know all these \nmasters who work in your school?' \n30 \n\n\nMURDERING AN OX \nAristotle, explaining that I was simply a friend, introduced his \ngroup: Eudemos of Rhodos, Demetrios of Phaleron, and the rest. \nThrasymakhos, with ostentatious affability, condescended to intro-\nduce us to his friends. He was about to begin with Euphorbos \n(because he was the best born, or perhaps the most impatient) but \nAristotle cut him off by saying, 'Of course I know my own former \nstudent!' and Euphorbos, laughing, said at the same moment, 'Of \ncourse I know my own old teacher!' \n'Dear master, how are you?' Euphorbos said, embracing Aristotle \naffectionately. 'It has been too long a while. And how do you get on \nat the Lykeion? Is it politics now or animals that occupy your time?' \nEuphorbos when smiling affectionately at Aristotle was certainly a \nmost appealing sight. He was slightly lanky but well-proportioned, \na man a year or two above my own age, but with a litheness and a \nhappy countenance that ensured his appearing constantly youthful. \nEuphorbos had the brown hair in hyacinth-tight curls that appeals to \npainters and sculptors, and that aristocratic bearing that always takes \nthe eye. \n'Have you been enjoying the proceedings?' he enquired, turning to \nthe rest of \nus. 'It is like a drama, or a parody of one, is it not?' There \nwas a twinkle in his eye. 'The poor old ox! Like a sad old wronged \nhusband. I seem to hear Klytaimnestra saying \"Fetch me the axe!'\" \nI warmed to Euphorbos, witty and merry and fond of literary \nreference - as I am myself. Perhaps, it occurred to me, he had picked \nup that habit of quotation and mock-quotation from Aristotle. \n'But I chatter too much,' Euphorbos apologised, 'when I ought to \nbe introducing the wise Theosophoros and the distinguished \nMegakles of \nAthens and other admirers and friends ofThrasymakhos, \nto this learned company.' \nThrasymakhos' other companions were undoubtedly middle-\naged, but they were a distinguished set; our group looked rather pale \nand weedy in comparison. Theosophoros at least deigned to \nacknowledge the introduction to myself. 'Stephanos is already \n31 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nknown to me,' he said, indicating that a little such knowledge went \na long way. \n'And this is Megakles of Athens,' Thrasymakhos continued. \nMegakles had short hair, greying slightly and a really impressive bald \nspot in the middle of \nhis head. The bald spot was beginning to redden \nin the early summer sun. Despite this unwanted blush, Megakles was \ndistinguished in appearance and extremely well dressed in a finely \nwoven khiton. He greeted us all in a noble manner, courteous, \nassured and unsmiling. (A gentleman among inferiors has no need to \nsmile.) \n'It gives me great satisfaction to make your personal acquaintance. \nI have heard so much of \nyou as you have become famous, 0 Aristotle \nof Stageira, and go among us. It is very important work that you do. \nEducating our Athenian young people is a great privilege and a \nmighty responsibility.' \n'It is so - I feel it!' Aristotle was in earnest. 'What could be more \nimportant than the citizens of \nthe future?' \nWith such happy banalities we passed a few minutes. Then \nThrasymakhos, patting Mikon's curly head, asked if he could take \nhim out for the afternoon, promising to return him by evening. Father \nand son went off \nsurrounded by their attentive slaves. Our little group \nseparated, and we of \nthe Lykeion party began to prepare to go home. \nAristotle did not enforce Pythagorean doctrines, however, for he \nallowed such of the boys and their teachers who wished to do so to \npartake of the roast meat in the square before setting off. Theodoros \ncertainly was not backward in coming in for his share. \nAnd that was the day - a pleasant one it seems, a day of a harmless \namusement combined with instruction. We had all thought more \nabout an old Athenian custom. The weather was fine and Athens \nlooked beautiful. We had perhaps made some new acquaintance -\nnot least Theodoros, who was very taken with the boys at the school, \nold and wise as they seemed to him at his age of \nnearly ten years. \n* \n32 \n\n\nMURDERING AN OX \nBut that occasion did not really end so pleasantly. On the morrow we \nheard that a boy had been killed. The killing had happened down at \nthe coast and not in the city of \nAthens itself, which was something of \na relief. Still, he was an Athenian. It \nbecame clear that the victim was \nthe boy who had insulted us and made faces, shouting 'I am \nAlexander!' This false Alexander, the bull-faced boy, had been killed \nwith a strange implement. An antique bronze axe had been found by \nthe body. Suspicion rested on the axe that had killed the poor ox. \nAristotle was soon called in to help with enquiries. He had the priests \nquestioned. They were certainly responsible for throwing the axe into \nthe sea as commanded by the ritual trial. But it appeared that of \nlate \nthe custom had arisen of not quite throwing the axe away. That is, it \nwould be thrown into the shallows, whence it would be recovered \nafter a few days. \n'It's a valuable antique axe,' one of the priests said, in tears. 'We \ncouldn't afford to lose it. It's not as if \nit really killed a person! And we \nuse it only once a year. When it has been in the sea a certain time it is \nconsidered cleansed, and we bring it back.' \nAs it turned out, the priests and their attendants had actually and \nliterally thrown the axe into the sea. But in truth they deposited it \nwith a gentle throw from a boat into the shallows in a position well \nmarked by them. The priests had used the same part of \nthe coast for \nseveral years, so anybody with sufficient curiosity to study what they \ndid with the object might readily find it. But how had the lethal thing \ncorne back on land and committed a killing? Some among the \ncommon people spoke ghoulishly of a demon arising from the water, \ndripping axe in hand . . . But as the crime was ingeniously recon-\nstructed, it was speculated that some youths unknown, presumably \nyoung persons of the poorer sort living in that area by the sea, had \n'rescued' the axe and played with it, probably imitating the ox-slaying \nand fatally killing the bull-like boy. \nAs this boy's parents were poor they could not hope for handsome \ncompensation, especially if the doers of \nthe deed were likewise poor. \n33 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nSo they could not pursue the matter. They accepted some money as \na gift from the city, although Athens denied official responsibility. No \nyouths came forward to confess to the crime. The axe was tried again \n- for real murder this time. And on this occasion too it was sentenced \nto be thrown into the depths of \nthe sea, though this time the sentence \nwas carried out vigorously with many persons watching. But the \nmurderer - or perpetrator of accidental manslaughter, perhaps -\nwhoever he might be, remained untried and unknown. \n34 \n\n\nIII \n==~g-p,=-=== \na---G' \nMeeting a Monkey \nMy thoughts turned much on my own future. A most important \nmatter was my marital union, which would define much of my life \nafterwards. At one time I had hoped to marry into some exalted \nfamily, taking Kharmia daughter of Kallimakhos to wife, but, as \nthings had turned out, I was now betrothed to the daughter of one \nSmikrenes, who farmed his own land near the westward road by \nEleusis. Smikrenes was an Athenian citizen but by no means exalted, \nnor was his temper the best - indeed, his ill temper was known \nthroughout his own district. But I had done him a slight kindness and \nhe had softened to me. I had actually met his daughter, so strange and \nuntoward are the things that happen when we travel, although of \ncourse the pretence should be kept up that I had not seen her, lest her \nreputation be scarred. Philomela daughter of Smikrenes was comely \nand sweet voiced, well-bred and good of heart, and marriage no \nlonger seemed the difficult and heavy task it had once appeared. \nI had discussed marriage with Smikrenes when Aristotle and I were \nreturning from Delphi earlier in the spring. Smikrenes and I had \nbegun the long process of debating about the dowry, though nothing \nwas seriously settled then. Messages had gone between us since that \n35 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \ntime. True, I was still young for marriage, according to Athenian \ncustom and practice, for the right age was around thirty and I would \nbe not quite twenty-six. But marriage was one of the few immediate \nways of assisting the condition of our family by association with \nanother citizen family and another landholder. Now it was high time \nfor me to show myself to Smikrenes again, and I wanted to look like \na serious man. I took a slave with me, and a donkey, with a little pile \nof \npresents. \n'Well, who'd ha' thought as you would turn up after all,' was \nSmikrenes' first observation to me, not over-agreeable. \n'But of \ncourse,' I said as heartily as I could. I tried to look cool and \nmanly and well-born, though it had been a hot sweaty journey. I was \nglad to find that the odorous dung-heap before the door had been \nsomewhat reduced, evidently by Smikrenes' use in energetic \ncultivation. 'Surely, 0 Smikrenes, you and I should become better \nacquainted. \n' \n'Maybe, maybe,' he said, in dubious tones. 'I've got a lot of work \non at present.' \n'Let me help,' I said eagerly. 'And my slave also can assist you.' \n'I dunno's I want people picking about my business. You'd likely \nto do it all wrong,' he said. 'But things is going well - on the whole. \nSome excellent little piglings are a-fattening a treat, and we have a \nnew calf. Take a look.' \nSmikrenes was pleased to have someone to show his farm to. It was \nundeniably in excellent condition, although some assistance with the \nlabour would be a good idea. I was inwardly debating how to bring \nthis up tactfully when we went to the house. \n'We can sit outside, since the weather's so peaceful,' suggested \nSmikrenes. 'Mebbe Philomela will have set us out some grub. Not \nthat her cooking is anything much - I'm most ashamed to set before \ncompany such stuff as she turns out, but it's the best we can do.' \nI recognised this as a figure of \nmodesty, and a high point of \ntact and \ncompany manners, so I countered by praising the oat cakes and the \n36 \n\n\nMEETING A MONKEY \ncabbage-leaf rolls and the cheeses, and the sweet cakes obviously \nprepared for the occasion. The old serving-woman brought them to \nus. I could sense Philomela herself behind the door to the kitchen, \nand I hoped to get a glimpse of \nher. I already knew that she was lovely, \nwith grey-green eyes and brown hair with an acorn sheen. When she \nis my wife, I thought, she will not be such a drudge. But of course I \ndid not say this to Smikrenes. He was eager to start in on our \nbargaining. \n'Well, I suppose you rash young man will want to wed in Gamelion, \nlike everyone else, though trudging through them roads in winter's \nnot going to be much pleasure for us. Indeed, I don't know as I can \nmake it .. .' \n'0 sir, you must come - my household would be dishonoured for \never if you did not. A bride must be taken into her husband's family \nhouse with all her relatives present. And we can make a fine \nprocession as the bride is taken from her home to ours.' \n'Fine processions simply cost money for gimcracks and trash, as \nyou will discover before you're much older. And it's sure to rain! All \nthat finery thrown away. And Philomela will catch cold into the \nbargain. Maybe it will go on her chest, with a fine chill to boot, and \nyou'll have the pleasure and expense of burying her instead of \nbedding her. Oh dear, it's a sad thing, to see my only daughter - my \nonly living child - go to her grave before me!' \n'These are too-sad thoughts,' I expostulated gently. 'My family will \nbe so happy to see her. They will treat her with great care, I promise \nyou.' \n'Well, but I'll ha' lost her, and that's a tough bone to gnaw. And \nhere I have to find a dowry and lose a worker. Who's going to help me \nwith this farm all on my ownsome?' \n'I have some ideas about that,' I said. 'Let me give you a slave to \nhelp with the work. I can do that I think at the time of \nthe wedding -\nand-' \n'Slaves!' He spat on the ground. 'I want someone who's family, a \n37 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nreal citizen, someone who takes an interest. I don't know what the \ngods were thinking on to keep me without sons - what a curse that is! \nAnd another curse is that savage wife of mine who left me in the \nlurch.' \n'Who is she - and where is she?' I asked bluntly, though I had long \nbeen ruminating about how to put these two important questions. 'I \ntake it she is alive?' \n'My wife? May she wander the shore of Styx for a long while and \nlack a penny for her passage when her time comes! My wife is alive \nand flourishing. Least when I last heard.' \n'I was told that this woman - I don't know her name or parentage \n-left you and went to live with her first husband's son.' (I did not add \nthat my sole informant on these matters was a little boy who had been \nvisiting in Smikrenes' neighbourhood at the time when I first met the \nirascible farmer.) \n'I don't know how these lies get about. Her name is Philonike, and \nshe is the daughter ofPhilonikos of Hymettos. Well-born man with a \ngoodish estate. True, she had been married afore, but not for long, \nher first husband dying at sea. She had no children by that marriage. \nShe was still young enough when we wed, about seventeen, and I was \nmore than thirty-five. My wife Philonike gave me a daughter, \nPhilomela there' - with a gesture to the pantry door - 'and then had \na stillborn nothing, and then gave birth to a son. But the son died \nsoon after, just a baby, never got his khoes.' \nI nodded. Children are given a special celebration upon reaching \ntheir third year. At the Spring festival, the Anthesterion, each receives \nthe present of an ornamented khoes, a cup to commemorate the fact \nthat the child is viable and may now truly be considered a person. \nPhilomela's lost brother had died, like so many, in the fog of \ninfancy. \n'In no wise uncommon, infants dying so much as they do,' \nSmikrenes agreed with my unspoken thoughts. 'But Philonike took \non terrible, and then went silent and wouldn't speak nor eat - a \nuseless lump. So her papa come for her and took her to their home \n38 \n\n\nMEETING A MONKEY \n\"for a while\" they said, \"until she gets well again\". I guess she ain't \nnever considered herself proper well, for she never came back. \nThough that papa's dead now, she still stays in their house.' \n'But -' I exclaimed. 'You could divorce her and take another wife! \nThen you could have more children -' \n'Well, I know. Nearly done so at one time,' he agreed. 'When I was \nyoung and lively and stupid enough to do it all again. I ain't a-going \nto wed no more, don't you fear. Her papa had no right to take her off \nhome, as she had borne a living child by me. So I could have taken \nhim to court and asked for her back. Never heard that she slept with \nany other man, though. I s'pose I always thought she would come \nhome again. One sunny day, thinks I, I'll get a letter saying \"I'm a-\ncomin' in three days' time, with a box of new clothes - Love, \nPhilonike.\" But no message, not of that sort. It was main foolish of \nme to marry out my own deme like that. If she'd ha' been a \nneighbour's child, she'd been more get-at-able.' \nThere was much in this story to think about, not least the \nunpleasant possibility that the woman was mad and that madness ran \nin the family. On the other hand, not to wish to live with Smikrenes \nwas in itself no certain sign of insanity. At least the woman wasn't \ndivorced - I don't think I could bring myself to wed the daughter of \na divorced mother. True, Philonike had behaved very ill. But perhaps \nher unaccountable behaviour was the fault of \nher parents - and a lack \nof persistence, not to say a lack of emotion, on the part of her \nhusband. It \nwas certainly hard on Philomela to have been deserted in \nthat manner. Perhaps, however, she had been lucky on the whole not \nto have been given a stepmother. \n'I should come by and have a look at your own holding,' said \nSmikrenes. 'Don't mean your town house, but your farm.' \n'Yes, certainly,' I said. 'We have some excellent olive groves. Some \nof the rest of it is a bit run down perhaps. We need to repair a few of \nthe outbuildings. Two aged servants, Dametas my steward and \nTamia his wife, look after it. They are faithful, and careful. But I am \n39 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nafraid that they are really far too old now, very shaky, and I must find \nsomeone else - though I have to provide a home for them, of \ncourse, \nand they will still do what they can.' \n'Running down, going to rack and ruin - that's the way with farms. \nIf you don't keep up with your holding, soon you're nowhere. Oh, \nwell, s'pose you was too young and ignorant to do much when your \npapa died. And at least there is real Athenian land. That's the main \nthing. But there is another man-child, isn't there?' \n'Yes. My little brother Theodoros. I am not the only inheritor and \nhe must always have a good provision made for him,' I explained. It \nwas well to be clear on such points. Theodoros would always have a \nclaim on the family estate. 'I hope he won't have to worry about these \nthings the way I have had to do. He is much younger. Just a child. ' \n'Ah, well, the more boys the better. Another pair of hands to help \nout, too.' Smikrenes did not seem displeased. 'Probably better for my \ndaughter in the long run, if anything should happen to you, as she got \nno brothers by me, see? But . . .' he added in a thoughtful tone, \nstaring into the distance, 'Philomela and her children has always got \nto be provided for, and well provided for.' \n'Certainly!' I exclaimed. \n'I'd like it if we could work it out so's that her children get my \nholding, whatever else happens. And if your little brother gets part \ninterest in your estate, and you was dead, then he and Philly could \nshare the house in Athens. I mean, he could rent out part, and give \nher the proceeds, or live in the house altogether and pay her for her \nhalf.' \n'I'll think about that,' I said cautiously. 'It sounds right that your \ngrandchildren should inherit your land. For immediate expenses, I \ncan bring to the marriage straight away some money from the sale of \nour surplus oil this last year - for sheets and some new furniture and \na wedding feast. I believe I can safely promise food and clothes for \nPhilomela and her children.' \n'Well, my daughter and her young will not want for clothes while \n40 \n\n\nMEETING A MONKEY \nI'm alive, whatever you do about it, that's certain. And - I don't like \nto set a sum right today you understand, but I think I can promise a \nfair amount in money down as dowry. But I want the proper security \nfor it.' \n'Of \ncourse,' I agreed. 'Apotimema is a regular thing. I can make over \npart of the land of \nthe same value as the dowry.' \n'So - and it must be part of the land that isn't hereditary and \ninalienable, but readily saleable. Then if \nyou die or divorce her, or she \ndies and leaves children, we've got security. Always like security. \nThat's why I'd better take a look at your property before I come down \ntoo handsome. Make sure you have something right to offer. Not \ntaking some pathetic stony yard and calling it a field, mind you that!' \nDealing with my future father-in-law was trying to my temper, but \nI swallowed and looked as amicable as I could. \n'Pity it is,' said Smikrenes, following his own train of \nthought. 'Pity \nthat she cannot get hold on her mother's money. They still owed me \nsomewhat, in dowry. Then they had the gall to insist that they didn't, \nas she had turned back on their hands - although she was not \ndivorced, like I told you. And that family is warm. Some of \ntheir funds \nought to go to Philomela. It's a tidy holding in Hymettos, and my \nwife's father was doing very well. Now this man - Philomela's \ngrandpapa on her own mother's side - he's dropped offhis perch. She \ndid ought to have a share of what he left. There is money in them \nHymettos folk, sure as eggs.' \n'But why haven't you requested her inheritance?' I asked in some \nsurprise. \n'Well, I thought of going up to them to demand it but never could \nfind the time. I don't trouble much about the city.' \n'But surely,' I exclaimed, 'as a citizen you go to the Ekklesia.' \n'Well, on occasion. But I ask you, is it reasonable to expect men \nfarming their own land to leave off work every ten days and walk so \nmany stadia into the city and out again just to hear a lot of well-\ndressed citizens holding forth? Even when it's a great orator like \n41 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nDemades or Demosthenes or Hypereides, 1 get tired of \nit sooner than \nquick. True, we're paid a bit now for attending, but it's still not worth \nit. And the city so dusty and noisy. Full of carts and rubbish!' \n1 was rather taken aback by this description, but 1 had to admit 1 \nhadn't thought before of \nthe burden of \ncitizenship on the countryfolk. \n'As for the law,' continued Smikrenes. 'Jury service is bad enough. \nBut you don't want to get tied up with legal disputes, for that leads \nstraight to hiring rhetoricians - and days and days lost in Athens \nargufying around the courts. Not for me! And sometimes it does a \nman's reputation no good, nor his family's neither. Just telling the \nwhole city your troubles. Still, you're a young man and you've been \neducated a lot. All talk and no digging with the likes of \nyou. So maybe \nyou'd come off \nbetter than me if \nyou tackled them. But don't be rash.' \n'I certainly ought to try,' 1 agreed. 'Where should 1 go?' \n'My wife Philonike's living where her papa lived, out by Hymettos \non the west slope. Her papa's gone, like 1 told you, but another man \ncome along and got married to her rna, and took to living there too, \njust as if he owned the place! Mind you, he can't really own it, this \nstep-pa, for Philonike has a brother. Philokles, his name is. But 1 \ndon't rightly recollect where he is now, or what he's doing. Haven't \nseen him since 1 don't know when.' \nThis was news indeed. If \nPhilomela's mother had a brother, then \nthis man, Philomela's uncle, was a person of the first importance. \nGovernor of his own family, he stood in an almost parental relation \nto his sister Philonike, Philomela's mother and thus in a way to \nPhilomela herself. This man Philokles should certainly be informed \nas soon as possible of the planned marriage. He might prove \ndisagreeable, and resistant to letting any of the money he was sitting \non go out of \nthe family to his niece. Yet both law and custom held him \nto some obligations. 1 should certainly try to meet him. \nMeanwhile, 1 made arrangements with Smikrenes for him to come \nto our farm. At some time soon he should also visit us at our house in \nthe city, so he could see it and meet my brother. \n42 \n\n\nMEETING A MONKEY \n'Still much business ahead,' Sniikrenes agreed. 'But I dare say now \nwe can have the formal betrothal come Boedromion? End of the \nsummer. I should be able to announce the exact amount of the \ndowry, and by then we'll both have got things straight. No obstacle \nthen to the wedding.' \nThis seemed fair enough. At the formal engye the girl's father would \nhand his daughter over to me, giving her to my protection, and, as is \ncustomary among families of \nbetter quality, he would announce at the \nsame time the amount of dowry. After this public and formal \nacknowledgement we couldn't go back on the contract. To start the \nautumn with this clarification seemed a good idea, and the wedding \ndetails could all be arranged with plenty of time. I still had to make \nsure that my mother came round to the idea. True, I was planning to \nmarry the daughter of \na citizen of \nAthens, born in an Athenian deme. \nThat much was in favour of the match. Mother would be dis-\nappointed, however, that I wasn't marrying the daughter of \none of \nour \nwealthiest citizens living in one of the grander areas of the city of \nAthens. But as I looked out over the peaceful summer countryside, I \nfelt there were compensations - and the more when I caught a fleeting \nglimpse of Philomela's hair and cheek behind the door. \nMatters did not move much forwarder at that time, although I \nstayed at Smikrenes' house for two days. The gifts were graciously \nreceived. I had not forgotten even Geta, the old serving-woman and \nPhilomela's former nurse, for such females can be very useful. At last \nI set off for home, my beast of \nburden much lighter, if not my heart. \nI let the donkey have a holiday, while we walked, I and my slave. This \nservant was good with animals, and the donkey meekly trotted along \nbeside him. It was some compensation for the man's general dullness \nand the lack of deftness of hand. He had lost part of a finger; \nfortunately, there was nothing wrong with his legs, and he did well on \nerrands. \nAs we came back to Athens I sent this fellow back to the farm with \nthe beast, and proceeded on my own to the Agora. It was the later \n43 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nafternoon, when the sun is less overbearing and people come out to \nsee what is to be seen. It was still hot, however, and dusty, the sort of \nday when dogs lounge about the public buildings looking for a cool \nmarble floor on which to flop, finding congenial resting-places in the \nmiddle of \nan elegant stoa or on the steps of \na temple. I had come idly \nenough to look for news, but the smell of one of the little cookshops \nattracted my attention, and I allowed myself \nto take something to eat. \nI was leaning over the stall, musing still on my own affairs, but the \nliveliness of \nthe throng and then the heat of \na conversation just behind \nmy back forced me to move beyond my own thoughts. \n'The taxation is enough to kill us!' So one white-haired citizen was \ngrumbling to his friend, a little wizened man who seemed to agree, \nbut a third citizen, a sturdy bald man, took up the argument. \n'Nay, for the taxation is the way of making our city strong again. \nThrough it we have won new walls and new battleships. If you \nwouldn't be under the yoke of Makedon, pay taxes gladly. That's all \nAthens does - we sat out the war this spring and let Antipater crush \nthe Spartans.' \nIt was at this point that I really looked at the group, wondering at \nthis boldness when there might be emissaries of Antipater or other \nMakedonian sympathisers (not to say spies) in the vicinity. \n'Hush, Apollonios! Preposterous! No one ever paid taxes gladly,' \nsaid the little wizened man with a quiff of dark hair like the plumage \nof a bird. 'But pay 'em we shall. In hope to make Athens great and \nfeared again.' \n'Remember how much wealth and treasure Alexander has,' said \noutspoken Apollonios. 'The wealth ofPersepolis! Now we hear he has \nset fire to Persepolis, and stored all his wealth together in Babylon.' \n'All this fuss, and the need for high taxes - all this is brought upon \nus by the ridiculous desires of a family that calls itself \"royal\",' said \nthe little man with the dark quiff. 'A barbarous family from \noutlandish Makedonia. Why, at one time there was a question \nwhether men of \nMakedonia could participate in the Olympic Games. \n44 \n\n\nMEETING A MONKEY \nI say they are not really Greeks, at all, no matter how much they may \nstrut.' \n'Oh, but they are so Greek,' laughed another man, joining the \ngroup. I recognised Euphorbos, the lanky and merry, Aristotle's \nformer student, who had greeted him so warmly at the ox-slaying. \n'How do you make that out?' \n'They must be - they work so hard at being Greek,' explained \nEuphorbos. 'Our Alexander,' he continued, 'ran about the walls of \nTroy, to imitate Akhilleus conquering Hektor. Is not that touching? \nAlexander endeavours to be so very Greek - he carries the works of \nHomer about with him in a box. He out-Hellenes Helen. Poor Alex, \nclutching his box so as not to lose his culture.' \n'You are in the right of it, Euphorbos, if you are saying he is no \nAttic man,' said the bald citizen. 'Let Athens reassert herself. I say, \nrevive the Athenian League. With the wealth of the liberated islands \nand cities, we could support our rule and protect our settlers. If \nthere \nis to be an empire, let it be of Athens, not of Makedon. Athenians \nhave no kings. Let the young man from Makedon go back to Pella \nand call himself as \"royal\"as he pleases on his own dunghill.' \n'Disgusting, the way these foreigners are taking over our city,' said \na younger citizen who joined the group in the wake of Euphorbos. I \nrecognised this newcomer too, a solemn man with a kind of priestly \npresence. Eurymedon, with his slender build and a face as beautiful \nas a sculpted mask. Tall Eurymedon with his great large eyes and \nstraight nose. His bearing was that of an aristocrat, but his face, \ndistinguished, sensitive, stiff and serious, looked more like the visage \none would imagine for a tragic poet - though as far as I knew he \nwasn't one. Eurymedon was a man of much importance, a member \nof one of the oldest clans, the Eumolpidai. The descendants of \nEumolpus guard the temple and rites of Demeter and Persephone at \nEleusis. No one can participate in the Mysteries without a Eumolpid \nas a sponsor, and the priests of Demeter come from that clan. Some \nof \nthe Eumolpidai are very religious - but by no means all of \nthem. \n45 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'It is right, what you say,' said Eurymedon, in his clear precise \nvoice. 'These men of \nMakedon who call themselves \"royal\" are fairly \ncommon stuff, even when well-intentioned. They encourage the \npresence of other foreigners, and weaken our customs and religion, \nand our political life. We Athenians should resist their insidious ways. \nIs this not so, Hypereides?' \nI turned about at this question, for the man coming up to the group \nwas celebrated. \nHypereides the famous orator was quite old at this time, being over \nsixty years of age, though so active he seemed younger. Moralists say \nmuch sex can injure the health and bring on old age, as well as ruining \none's fortune, but Hypereides maintained both health and fortune, \ndespite the notorious fact that (after his wife died) he kept three \nbeautiful mistresses at once. He was impressive, if not sweet of \ncountenance. (For all that, women seemed to like him more than well \nenough.) Hypereides could always be spotted in a crowd; he was tall \nand his long face with the long-lobed ears (like the handles of an \nornate jug) appeared above the heads of other men. \nIn youth, Hypereides had studied with Plato. At first he had just \nwritten other people's speeches for them, but then he became famous \nas a pleader and even orator. He had stood against the Makedonian \nparty and had prosecuted their supporters in court, or defended anti-\nMakedonian sympathisers. Hypereides was not bitter and peppery \nlike Demosthenes, however, but a sunny, happy-tempered man who \nwon people over - in court and out of it - by his easy manner and \nliking for a good quip. \n'Well, isn't it true, Hypereides, as Eurymedon says?' asked the bald \nman. 'We need to cast off the yoke of Makedon in our thoughts and \nactions alike.' \n'It's late for that,' said Euphorbos, speaking seriously to \nHypereides. 'Athens has been crushed - Demades was right, when he \nsaid Athens lost an eye when Thebes was destroyed. King Agis and \nhis Spartans have fought with glory, and Agis died a hero on the \n46 \n\n\nMEETING A MONKEY \nbattlefield. We did nothing but sit in our houses and talk about the \nweather. Athens cowers to the godlike rulers of \nMakedon.' \n'Nay,' said Hypereides. 'These rulers are but mortal men. You \nnotice that despite the honours paid to King Philip, and the new \nfashion of calling him \"immortal\", he is but a complete corpse after \nall. I tell you, that no tyrant once felled ever rose from the dead, while \nmany a city apparently destroyed has returned again to its old \nstrength.' \n'But how to resist as good patriotic Athenians?' asked the bald \nman. 'You, Hypereides, urged us to free and arm the slaves and the \nforeign residents! But that would have been clean against the \nconstitution. We need to find our own modes of \nresisting. As we freed \nourselves from tyrant rule in days gone by. See Harmodios and \nAristogeiton show us the way!' \nThe bald patriot gestured towards the famous statue group. Of \ncourse you could not really see it from where we stood, because the \nskeletal structure of the new temple of Apollo Patroos (at last being \nrebuilt) was in the way. The celebrated two bronze statues com-\nmemorated the two heroic youths who (generations ago) had \nassassinated a tyrant. The bronzed youth Harmodios points his sword \nto stab the tyrant while Aristogeiton, older and stronger, holds his \nsword above his head ready to smite the tyrant's head off. It is a very \npleasing set of statues - all the more because the sculptor hasn't \nbothered reproducing the man who is just about to be killed, so you \ndon't have to feel anything for him. \n'If we look at the statues,' commented Euphorbos, 'we should \nremember we are still looking at copies. The Persians stole the real \nones. But now Alexander is going to send us the original statues back \nfrom Persepolis. Is that not thoughtful of him! I find that very \npleasing - not every tyrant will support the opposition in that manner, \nto be sure.' \nEuphorbos ran his fingers through his hair and took on a different \nexpression, a ridiculous mask of conceit and self-importance. \n47 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'''Gentlemen of \nAthens, I Alexander, the Great, the wonder of \nthe \nHellenes\" - he thinks of \nhimself \nthis way, you know - \"the universally \nextolled, the marvel among youth, offer you - offer you freely, for no \nextra charge - an object lesson: First kill your tyrant - if you can get \nat him!'\" \n'Euphorbos, you can never be serious,' remonstrated the bald \ncitizen. \nEuphorbos shrugged, and produced from his sleeve a pair of gold \nknucklebones. 'Serious is as serious does. Let us give up politics and \nplay at knucklebones, where at least some can win. Do you wager for \na throw?' The gold 'bones' spun up in the air and shone in the hot \nsunlight. \n'We got rid of tyrants before and we can do so again!' Apollonios \nwas heated. 'And get rid of \nthose who take bribes from Makedonia to \nbetray their country!' \n'Gently, Apollonios,' entreated Hypereides. 'No violence, I beg of \nyou. Gentlemen, you should really guard your speech with more care. \nAs for bribe-taking of any sort, the Ekklesia and all good citizens are \nagainst it, as they have ever been.' \n'But, Hypereides,' said Eurymedon, 'we must take note. Athens is \nbeing choked not just by men of Makedon but by foreign persons of \nall kinds. It \nis bad enough that she should be tossed in the stew of all \nsorts of Greek states, that new League that Philip cooked up for his \nown advantage. But see how we are being flooded with Kyrenians, \nPhoenicians and the like - as well as beggars who drift here from the \nnewly reconquered lands in Asia.' \n'And traders - Phoenicians. Egyptian trash!' The little dark-\nquiffed man spat angrily. 'Get rid of them all, Hypereides, I \nsay!' \n'Cannot be done,' said Euphorbos. 'You know that, Epikrates. \nMany Athenians are fond of Egyptian perfumes, is that not so? Have \nwe none of \nus carried a sweet-smelling gift to a mistress? Or' - turning \nto Epikrates - 'to a choice boy, slave or free?' \n48 \n\n\nMEETING A MONKEY \n'But I shall have justice,' said the little man called Epikrates, \nturning purple in the face. 'I shall have justice! Hypereides is helping \nme against that filthy Egyptian and the whore he set on to tempt me! \nTo the rubbish heap with all the riff-raft1 So say I.' \n'Are you addressing me, gentlemen?' Another man had come up to \nthe group. Unlike the serious knot of political speakers, he seemed \nlight-hearted and jaunty. 'Are we riff-raft?' \nI turned and saw his reason for his using the plural, for this new-\ncomer was not alone. He held on his shoulder a monkey, and not a \nsmall one. He took hold of the monkey's paw and waved it at the \ngroup. 'Are we riff-raft?' He spoke in a high affected voice to imitate \nthe monkey's imagined speech. 'I say, all of \nyou are riff-raffy - some \nof \nyou niff a bit, my word you do!' \nAs the monkey was at that moment screwing up his face the words \nmatched the action quite well. The beast grabbed a piece offruit from \nthe master's bag and started to chew it, dripping juice. \n'What an enormous and ill-bred animal!' exclaimed someone who \nhad come up beside me at the food-stall. It was Theophrastos. \n'Greetings, Stephanos,' he added. 'I am glad to come upon you, for I \nshould speak with you -' \nTheophrastos was interrupted by the monkey, which spat a large \npiece of \nwet pulpy fruit straight at his head. Its owner laughed. Hastily \nTheophrastos wiped his head with the edge of \nhis cloak, which was at \nonce stained by fruit juice. Despite the hubris shown by his animal, \nand the misfortune sustained by Theophrastos, the monkey-owner \nseemed unperturbed. He was a pleasant fellow to look at, his head well \nbarbered, his teeth white and clean, and his cloak and ring of \nthe best. \nAt this moment, his well-barbered hair was being drizzled upon by \nmonkey spit. The animal hopped up and down on his shoulders: it was \ncertainly the cynosure of all eyes. Having got our attention, the \nmonkey then displayed all its parts with what seemed conscious pride. \n'I congratulate you, Kallias. I don't believe I have ever seen a larger \none,' said Theophrastos drily. \n49 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF UFE \n'Ahh,' laughed the man Kallias, stroking his pet. 'You don't get \nmany like this. It comes from far away, beyond Egypt. Black men \nbring them to Egypt, even to the new city Alexander is building, and \nthere you can buy them.' \n'Or \nyour factor can,' said Epikrates sourly. 'I had forgotten, Kallias, \nhow much business you do with the shipping, to Egypt and else-\nwhere. One of \nthe kind who send honey from Hymettos to Egypt, and \nbring Persian stuffs to Athens.' \n'There are good markets, now,' said the monkey-owner. 'Even \nbetter once the liberated cities of \nLydia and Ionia have settled down. \nA great deal of trade. People abroad will pay well for all sorts of \nthings. Dogs, for instance. You wouldn't believe how well dogs do. \nSpartan hounds are in demand. And hounds of Melita - I mean not \nmy own deme, but the island.' \n'Melita - not even Greek! An island crawling with Phoenicians and \ntraders from Karthago!' \n'But it breeds good little hounds. Fine-boned, thin and small. \nThat's why I called mine \"Little Twig\". She'd sit on my lap. Some of \nyou know my favourite dog - or rather bitch - from Melita -' \n'And how is she, I beg to know?' asked Euphorbos politely. As he \nspoke, he played with his knucklebones, keeping the glittering gold \npair hopping around the back of his hand without even looking at \nthem. 'One should always enquire solicitously after the health of \none's friends' bitches.' \n'Alas! Poor Little Twig! I must be sad while I remember her. She \ndied the other day \n. We have had her buried with pomp. A grave in the \ngarden. I myself have designed a nice little tombstone for her. You \nmust come and see it. It says \n\"A fond farewell. \nHer master commends to the shades \nhis Little Twig. \nA small piece of \nMelita lies here.'\" \n'Very touching.' \n50 \n\n\nMEETING A MONKEY \n'When you do a thing, you certainly do it well,' said Apollonios. \n'Didn't you recently make an offering in the Asklepion, for your great \ntoe? Never seen better bronze, or a more detailed likeness of a toe.' \n'A poor thing, but all my own,' laughed the monkey-man. His \nmonkey suddenly got up and jumped from his shoulders to the \npavement, where it sported itself like a satyr, waving its long penis \naround and about. A little crowd had collected, offering shouts of \nlaughter and encouragement. \n'Watch out, Euphorbos, guard your backside - he's attracted to \nyour rear entry!' \n'How much do you pay him, Kallias, to do your job at home?' \n'Hey, the brothel's nearby! Bid this little gentleman hasten there \ndirectly. He's got more to give the girls than most of \ntheir customers.' \n'Come, Theseus.' Kallias the owner of \nthe beast gave a shake to its \nlittle gold chain - was it really all solid gold? - and began to walk \nacross the Agora. Theseus the monkey resisted by lying down, but the \nchain necessitated his being hauled along after his urgent master. The \nanimal had one last revenge. As the creature got to its feet, it made \nwater copiously and splashed as many as it could - including the \ncrowd who deemed themselves spectators and were caught unawares. \nThe cursings and scramblings that followed seemed to satisfy the \nbeast immensely. Then the monkey moved smartly away, trotting \nbehind his master with many grimaces. \n'What a terrible beast!' exclaimed Theophrastos. 'Kallias' family \nwere once great aristocrats and generals, and look what he has come \nto - a man who prides himself on dogs and monkeys!' \n'Well, he is happier than the other men around him,' I responded. \n'Anyway, many in that family have been rich and - to say the least-\njolly. Wasn't one ofKallias' ancestors noted for extravagance? Before \nhe became a general. Wasn't he even accused of sacrilege?' \n'Sacrilege? Who speaks of sacrilege?' It was the grave citizen \nTheosophoros whom I had tried to avoid on the day of the ox-\nmurder. I had reason to believe he did not think well of \nme, and was \n51 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nsurprised when he addressed me fonnally, ignoring Theophrastos. \n'Good day, Stephanos, son of Nikiarkhos.' I returned his greeting, \nhoping he would pass on. \n'Sacrilege - dread word. We must all be wary of the slightest \napproach to it,' Theosophoros continued. 'Our safety depends upon \nconstant avoidance of such offence. You, 0 Stephanos, mingle with \nphilosophers, who are not always immune to such a charge. \nPhilosophers should be humble. Megakles, let me make you known \nto Stephanos son of \nNikiarkhos. Stephanos, be known to Megakles.' \nI bowed and munnured that I was happy to see him again. Of \ncourse I already knew this man Megakles, who had been introduced \nto Aristotle by Mikon's father at the Bouphonia. Unsmiling Megakles \nwith the greying hair and the large bald spot ripened to a deeper rose \nin the sun of midsummer. Seeing this important acquaintance, \nEuphorbos strolled up to join us. \n'Nowadays,' proceeded Theosophoros, 'we must all be extremely \ncareful to avoid sacrilege. We must all be careful, for instance, not to \nsay any word against a great man, now departed.' He glanced \nsignificantly towards the statue of Philip of Makedon placed in the \nAgora by the Athenians after our defeat at Khaironia. 'An honorary \ncitizen of \nAthens, no less! What can one do but admire?' \n'Killed by a man he tried to bugger once too often, but now \nproclaimed divine and immortal.' \n'Hush, Euphorbos,' said Megakles indulgently. 'Cease your jesting \nwhen it isn't prudent. Be glad at least we know some people of good \nAthenian name. Yours, Stephanos, is an excellent name, let us \nintroduce you -' \nAt Megakles' insistence I was hurried over the short distance to the \nlittle cluster of \nmen whose talk I had too visibly overheard. The great \nman introduced me with stiff \nfonnality to Eurymedon and the others. \nI felt embarrassed, as my hands and mouth were greasy with sausage. \nI also could not avoid introducing Theophrastos to Theosophoros \nand likewise to Megakles, who really ought to have recognised him. \n52 \n\n\nMEETING A MONKEY \nTheophrastos certainly had no reason to be glad of the encounter at \nthis moment, when not only his clothes but also his countenance bore \ntraces of the monkey's fruit. His oblong face had become flushed; \nnever graceful, he was at present decidedly awkward. Speaking in his \nusual very precise manner, Theophrastos resisted Megakles' cool \nentreaty that he join them, and moved off \ninto the market-place. I felt \nit necessary to stay and talk civilly to these friends, who were \nrecovering after the confusion brought about by the advent of \nKallias \nand his monkey. \n'Did you see that truly dreadful animal?' asked Eurymedon. \n'Someone should tell Kallias that the monkey tricks of his are not \nseemly in the Agora.' \n'Whatever he may do with his monkey at home,' added Euphorbos. \n'The beast might do well in the City Council,' added \nTheosophoros drily. 'There are members of the Boule who act with \nas much sense and dignity as Kallias' energetic and too-well-endowed \ncompanion. \n' \n'So this is Stephanos of Athens,' said short Epikrates, his quiff \nstanding up on end, perhaps from taking fright at the monkey. 'I have \nheard of \nyou. I trust your cousin has quite recovered from his brush \nwith the law?' \n'The two of you hiding under cheese in a cart, so I hear,' \nApollonios interjected. \n'Isn't it wonderful what strange stories get about in Athens?' I \nwasn't going to be drawn into a tedious and slightly embarrassing \ntale. 'But Epikrates, I hope rumour is wrong in saying that you have \nsome legal vexation at present?' \n'The world knows it!' said Epikrates with venom. 'Against that \nstinking Athenogenes the perfumer. Hypereides is going to assist \nme.' \n'I was just going to suggest,' I said mildly, 'that Aristotle might be \nable to help you.' \n'That,' said Megakles heavily, 'is extremely disrespectful to our \n53 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \ngood Hypereides. Not all of \nus hang upon Aristotle's sleeve, begging \nhim to help us out of scrapes.' \nThere was a pause. I felt myself blush. It is true I had intended a \nmild insult, but hadn't intended to be called on it. \n'I beg pardon, and meant no offence,' I said meekly. 'I was merely \nconcerned for the peace of \nmind of \nEpikrates -' \n'/ \ncertainly am not offended' said Hypereides heartily. 'We all know \nthe brilliance of \nAristotle - and his influence. Certainly, Epikrates and \nI have no reason to be ungrateful for any good thoughts or assistance.' \n'Well, this is the case,' said Epikrates. 'Here's Athenogenes the \nEgyptian perfumer had a slave boy I wanted, but he got a woman to \n- to persuade me to buy the boy's father and brother too. Buying \nthree slaves - expensive. Forty minai! And \nI was to be responsible for \nany debts incurred by these slaves.' \n'Athenogenes was certainly ingenious,' interpolated Hypereides. \n'He not only sold him three slaves (with that unjust debt clause \nattached), but also got him to sign an agreement to take one of the \nperfume businesses. Athenogenes wrote an agreement in which he \nsaid he gave Epikrates one of the perfume shops, \"to set against any \ndebts\" \n.' \n'That's what he told me - that the shop would pay any debts of \nthe \nslaves! But that scented Egyptian was a great liar! The confounded \nperfumery business that he made over to me in \"compensation\" \nproved riddled with debts - at least five talents' worth. Five talents!' \n'You see?' said stem Apollonios. 'This is the result of allowing all \nthese foreigners into Athens. That Egyptian perfumer is just the type \nof these migrants who come in and try to take over. He even has the \ngall to call himself \"Athenogenes\", as if being merely born in Athens, \ndropped here by his trashy dam - as if \nthat littering here gave him any \nkind of \nclaim. These vermin are ruining our great city! None of \nus will \nbe able to lead the life of citizens if this continues.' \n'That is one of \nthe gravest consequences of \nAlexander's advances,' \nagreed Theosophoros. 'These riff-raff from other places, coming like \n54 \n\n\nMEETING A MONKEY \nlocusts. Jumped-up freedmen and all sorts who think they can get \nrich. Poor Epikrates. They stink of \ncivet but they wouldn't care if \nthey \nstank of shit, as long as silver and gold goes into their boxes.' \n'And little innocents like Epikrates being ruined! Taken in by a \ngood Athenian whore as well. It \nis a wonder I do not weep in thinking \nof it!' Euphorbos pretended to wipe tears from his eyes. \n'It is important,' said Apollonios, 'that some of \nus stand up against \nthese pernicious new ways. We need not be lost. Athens is strong and \ncan be stronger. Stephanos, young men like yourself should take an \nactive part in the new movement to restore and fortify Athens - not \nonly her citadels and walls, her temples and her ships, but her spirit.' \n'And,' added Eurymedon, 'those who take such an active part can \ncount on the reward of \nthe approval of \ngood men.' Eurymedon always \nseemed to speak in a liturgical voice. Probably he already took some \nrole in the religious rituals at Eleusis. 'And who knows the will of \nthe \ngods?' he added. 'The Makedonian man is plunging further eastward, \never onward. Who knows what the gods have in store? He might be \nlost there - which of course we would all regret,' he added drily. \n'You, 0 Stephanos, are young and single,' said Theosophoros. \n'You might be interested to note that some rich and patriotic citizens \nof Athens possess daughters who are not humpbacked or one-eyed.' \n'Whenever I do marry,' I said carefully, 'it will most certainly be to \nthe daughter of \na man and citizen who is descended from generations \nof \nAthenian citizens and landowners. On that I am determined.' \n'Good fellow,' said Megakles, his bald spot blooming rosily in the \nafternoon sun. 'We know you take an interest in philosophy - as we \nall do. Particularly my friend Thrasymakhos, whose ancestor was so \nwell acquainted with Plato. But just the same, we don't want to get \ncarried away, do we? Remember, the enchantments of philosophy \nmay mislead unwary men into sacrilege. Any disrespect to the gods \nnow, any deviation from established and safe customs, creates holes \nin the wall, so to speak, through which evil can enter.' \n'True. Sacrilege is a very bad thing,' I assented. 'But I am still \n55 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nconcerned as how to help Epikrates in this dispute with the perfumer. \nFor poor Epikrates must have lost a great deal of \nmoney.' \n'Which we shall try to recover,' said Hypereides, with a graceful \nsmile. 'Epikrates and I should discuss the case.' He detached \nEpikrates from the group, and the two went off together, little \nEpikrates trying to match his step to that of \ntall, confident Hypereides. \n'Humph!' said Apollonios. 'Epikrates deserves what he got, \nentertaining himself with the slave boy and the woman. Farting \naround a brothel and dripping sentiment over a boy. Just asking that \nsmelly Egyptian bastard to diddle him!' \n'Hypereides is almost too good-natured,' said Eurymedon. \n'Epikrates probably should not take up his valuable time.' \n'One cannot but agree,' said Euphorbos, making his face stiff and \nmatching his tones to the solemn ones of the Eleusinian. 'For 10, \nbrethren, all things must be in proportion. Why should the ox worry \nover the sorrows of the gnat?' \n'Ah, but consider,' said Theosophoros, 'Epikrates is a good citizen \nand his money can be useful to the cause. If that money can be \nrecovered from that unsweet seller of sweet oils. Is that not so, \nStephanos? It is worth while, is it not, to defend ourselves through use \nof the law?' \n'Certainly it must be,' I said, disdaining to derive any personal \napplication from this remark. 'Or else we would not have laws. I beg \nyour forgiveness, gentlemen, for it has been a great privilege to meet \nyou, but I must, unfortunately, depart at this time.' \nAnd at last I got away from them. I had not turned two comers on \nmy way home when I found the fruit-spattered Theophrastos \nlingering by the way. \n'You said you had something to say to me,' I said. 'What did you \nwant to talk with me about?' \n'Aristotle,' Theophrastos said simply. 'I wanted you to go and see \nhim. He is well - in himself. But he is worried about Pythias, who has \nnot been well. I think he would take pleasure in your presence. But \n56 \n\n\nMEETING A MONKEY \nnot to bring him hints from such as those,' he added bitterly. 'He \nshould not be bothered just now. Come and see him as a friend, \nStephanos. \n' \n'Tell Aristotle I shall come to see him tomorrow.' \n57 \n\n\nIV \n==~g-p~= \na\"-\"G\" \nSweetness and Bees \nTaking Theophrastos' suggestion seriously, I went next day to see \nAristotle. It occurred to me that a discussion of \nEpikrates' case might \nprovide a good pretext for a visit. I did not want Aristotle to think I \nwas officiously hovering, or presuming on my own position, since \nI was neither an equal friend nor a blood relation. Aristotle was at \nhome, instead of in the Lykeion where I had expected to find him. \n'We'll sit inside in my room if you don't mind,' he said. 'I know it \nis a trifle warm. It would be nicer to sit outside, but I should like \nPythias to be able to use the garden freely if she is disposed to walk, \nor sit in the sun.' \n'How is your wife?' I asked. \nHe sighed. 'Not well. I'm afraid this pregnancy is proving difficult. \nI have always held - I have written - that pregnant women should not \ngive themselves over to idleness or be forced to rest, but should take \nregular and sufficient exercise. That's why I have said that it would \nbe good to have a number of shrines to the goddesses of childbirth -\nHera, and Leto for instance - so that pregnant women could walk to \nthem. And a woman bearing a child should eat nourishing food - she \ndoes not require a slender diet. But Pythias finds it trying now to walk \n58 \n\n\nSWEETNESS AND BEES \nany distance. I urged her to seek out the shrine of Demeter - she has \na special devotion to Demeter \n- but she says she cannot go so far. And \nshe eats scarcely at all. I have been keeping her company as much as \npossible. Sometimes I read to her. I haven't been working as much at \nthe Lykeion as I had planned during this period. Ah well, I do have \nable assistants.' \n'Yes, you are lucky there - Theophrastos and Hipparkhos and the \nrest.' \n'Once this difficult time is over - and Pythias is nearly at the end -\nwe shall both be much better. And the baby, too. It will be able to \nbenefit from summer weather and grow strong and hardy.' \nHe sighed a little as he spoke. Aristotle looked paler than I was used \nto seeing him - certainly in summer. I noticed how his hair, which \nused to make me think of \na fire spirit, had drifted towards grey, or run \ninto dull sandy shades. It was disheartening to feel his brightness a \nlittle dimmed. He seemed preoccupied. \n'What is the news, Stephanos? I get about so little at the moment. \nHow do things fare with you?' \nI was unwilling to trouble him with the patriotic and anti-\nMakedonian sentiments I had heard uttered the day before. I recol-\nlected and told him a suitable version of the conversation about \nHarmodios and Aristogeiton, and about the promised return of the \noriginal statues as a gift from Alexander. \n'And at least,' I said, 'they will be better works of art than the \ncopies. And a good thing to remind us of \nour patriotism and Athenian \nhistory. Though some people will apply it to Alexander's own case.' \nAristotle made a face. 'It is really not a very simple or very nice \nstory, that of Harmodios and Aristogeiton. People forget the truth \nand say \"they killed the tyrant\". But they did not. The real tyrant at \nthe time was Hippias, and it was too difficult to kill him. So those two \nkilled Hippias' brother, just as he was innocently lining up the \npageant wagons and marchers for the Panathenia procession. Surely \nan innocent and even laudable and pious occupation! Some say \n59 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nAristogeiton was anxious to kill this man anyway, because the tyrant's \nbrother had developed a love-longing for Aristogeiton's own beloved \nHarmodios. Who knows? But, you see, they didn't kill a tyrant. \nHarmodios himself \nwas killed straight away when the guards arrived, \nand Aristogeiton lived to be tortured - long enough to wish that he \nhad died when Harmodios did. Worst of all, Hippias became more \nsuspicious and cruel, and clamped down on Athens in a way he had \nnot done before. So, what was accomplished by this act of heroic \nviolence?' \nI was surprised at this deflating view. It was a standard school \ntheme that as we were against tyrants we should be for Aristogeiton \nand young Harmodios. Glad of the chance to change the subject, I \nturned to my own affairs, and offered a summary of \nmy conversation \nwith Smikrenes. \n'It is a lucky thing for my future father-in-law,' I commented, 'that \nI am basically honest and not litigious. His conduct in the past \nindicates how frightened he is of anything to do with the city, or legal \naction of any kind. He did not even reclaim his wife! Now I must try \nto search for her, in the Hymettos region.' \n'You certainly should do so,' said Aristotle. 'For two reasons. First, \nand most important, you should not marry the daughter without \nknowing more of the nature and conduct of \nthe mother. You cannot \nin propriety talk with her yourself, naturally, but be sure to ask some \nshrewd questions of whatever male relatives you encounter. If \nyou \nsuspect that she is not sane, do not marry the daughter. If \nyou suspect \nthat she is unchaste, do not marry the daughter. Second, it is \nimportant to establish for the sake of your children whether there \nshould be any benefit to them from such an alliance, especially if \nthere is an inheritance. Much can be done there. For example, make \nsure that this woman's deceased father left a legitimate will. You \nknow, if he was influenced by his wife in making the will, that \ntestament can be declared null. It might be of \nbenefit to you if a will \nwere set aside.' \n60 \n\n\nSWEETNESS AND BEES \n'Strange, in some ways,' I mused. 'It seems so natural for a man's \nown wife to be consulted. In devising a will that affects their children.' \n'No - no, Stephanos, the law is right. After all, strictly speaking, the \nchildren are not hers but his. It is the father of \nthe child who supplies \nall the life-material, the identity. What the children are is already \npresent in the father's seed. The mother simply gives the embryo \nhouse-room. She lets it lodge with her, as it were, nourishes the \ngrowing infant in her womb for nine months. Woman is matter, but \nform is male. Matter is supplied by the mother, but form comes from \nthe father. Therefore, the care of children is perfectly the husband's \nprerogative. Moreover, a woman, if she were allowed to have \ninfluence, would be sadly likely to be under control of \nher own family \n- especially her own brothers - and they could use her to defraud the \nrightful heirs. Hence, to make a will under the influence of a wife is \nreckoned the same as making a will under durance or some other \ncoercion. When you look into it, you find the law quite sound.' \n'Well, here is a case I have heard of \nthat might appeal to you. There \nis a little man called Epikrates who must go to law. He was probably \ninfluenced and persuaded by a prostitute, who helped him to be \nswindled by an ingenious Egyptian myrrh-merchant.' \nI hastened to regale him with the story (in so far as I knew it) of \nEpikrates and the Egyptian perfumer. As I expected, Aristotle was \nhighly entertained. \n'There must be something more to this story,' he said. 'Epikrates \ndoesn't count for much - except that he is so rich! And thus \nimportant in Athens. Truly, I should like to do a favour for \nHypereides himself. It would not be impolitic to oblige him.' I was \nrelieved to feel that, as usual, Aristotle was many steps ahead of me \nand quite aware of the political situation. There seemed all the less \nreason for rehearsing the utterances of Megakles, Apollonios and \nEurymedon. \n'Sir, there is someone to see you,' said the slave who had been \nkeeping the main door. \n61 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'Well, Phokon, have you let whoever-it-is in? Who is it? I presume, \nfrom your tone as well as from your words, you take our visitor to be \nsomeone who is no gentleman.' \n'Sir,' said the slave, smiling a little, 'it is certainly no gentleman. But \nwhat to call her in gentlemen's ears I cannot rightly tell.' \n'That is, you know all too well.' While the slave endeavoured to \nsuppress a laugh, a slender female form appeared behind him. This \nwas patently not a gentleman, and ladies do not call at gentlemen's \nhouses. As we tried to get a clear view of the visitor, our noses were \nsaluted with Eastern gales of \nteasing sweetness. \n'Well, this is clearly no female quacksalver trying to get at my wife! \nNor some fake priestess of Demeter, the goddess whom my wife \nloves. It would be hard to deny Pythias, for I love her as much as she \nloves Demeter. But no,' Aristotle continued, gazing at the female \nperson who had now moved to the threshold and stood in front of \nthe \nhapless porter. 'I see this is unlikely to be a priestess or medicine-\nwoman. Let her fully enter the room and announce her own name.' \nThe woman obediently and gracefully came into the room. The \nbook-lined apartment seemed an incongruous setting for this \napparition. She was tall for a female, and slender, but very well-\nshaped. Her hair, a great deal of which was on display beneath an \nattractive green cloth flung over her head, was the most peculiar \ncolour, both dark and fair, with twisty points of a reddish hue. Her \neyes were outlined in some dark stuff \nin what I now thought of \nas the \nEgyptian manner (but with much more subtlety than I had seen on \nthe face of \nthe Egyptian prostitute I had met in the brothel in Kirrha). \nGold bracelets circled both wrists, and a little chain of \ngold ran about \nher waist. This woman's gown was of a white linen so fine it must \nhave been Egyptian, and on her finely-shaped feet were carefully \nwrought sandals of green leather, with the straps like leaves and \ntendrils curling over her feet. It was odd to think of those sandals \nplodding the dusty road to Aristotle's house. The woman herself was \nbeautifully cool, not a drop of \nsweat nor a hair out of \nplace, though it \n62 \n\n\nSWEETNESS AND BEES \nwas a summer afternoon. She was as slender and elegant as a young \npalm tree swaying in the wind in the sanctuary at Delos. \n'Well, well,' said Aristotle, as we both surveyed this sweet \napparition with admiration and interest. 'Let us know your name.' \n'Sir,' said the woman. 'I am Antigone of \nAthens.' \n'Antigone of Athens! Well, there's a change. The most famous \nwoman of \nthat name was Antigone of \nThebes - perhaps you know of \nher. Oidipous' daughter.' \n'Sir,' said the woman, 'I come to you for help. For 1 have much \ntrouble!' With a graceful movement and a kind of swoop like a well-\nbred heron she came across the room and sank to her knees, then \nextended one hand imploringly to touch Aristotle's right knee. He \ndrew it back, but had to extend his own hand to raise her - a touching \ntableau. \n'Please,' he said, patting her head, 'it is too hot for a lot of \nkneeling \nand getting up again. Why don't you sit down somewhere and tell us \n- me and my friend - a plain tale?' \n'As you are so good as to hear me,' said the woman, humbly. She \nsat herself down on a footstool, like a white dove coming tremblingly \nto rest. \n'If \nyou haven't heard of \nme before, you may soon,' she began, in a \nparticularly sweet voice. 'I am Antigone, and 1 can say no more for \nmyself than that 1 am a freedwoman and the daughter of a \nfreedwoman, and 1 am a harlot of Athens, as my mother was too. 1 \nwork independently. Well, that is, 1 did, until 1 set up my own \nestablishment, and 1 now have two girls working for me.' \n'A rise to success, in short,' said Aristotle. \n'It seemed so until recently. For one of my clients was this man \nEpikrates, who was a regular customer, although he liked boys as well \nas girls. He wanted to get a boy belonging to an Egyptian perfume-\nseller, Athenogenes. The slave he wanted was the younger son of a \nslave called Midas, a good worker and of \nsome value to Athenogenes.' \n'Did Epikrates want to set the boy free?' asked Aristotle. \n63 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'Dear me, 1 don't know. 1 don't remember that he said so, but he \nmay have done. Sometimes men say a great many things. Anyway, \nEpikrates eventually complained to me that Athenogenes would not \nsell the boy on whom he had set his heart. He asked me to negotiate \nwith Athenogenes, and 1 did. 1 so softened Athenogenes that he said \nhe would sell all three - Midas and both of his sons - for forty \nminai.' \n'Did you tell Epikrates to hasten to clap up the bargain?' \n'I must honestly say that 1 did tell Epikrates to act quickly. For 1 \nwas not sure how long Athenogenes would hold one mind. But 1 had \nno more to do with the affair. Epikrates feels ill-used by the perfume \nman. Now they - Epikrates and his friends, 1 mean - are dragging me \ninto it.' \n'How well did you know Athenogenes? Were you partners?' \n'No - no. He had been a client of mine, and 1 bought some \nperfumes and unguents - and medicines too - from him. Naturally, \nhe saw 1 was a good customer. The girls need oils and sweet scents \nfor their work. He let me have a discount, because he knew my house \nwould do a regular business in that way. But that is all.' \n'Did you get money from Epikrates?' \n'Yes.' \n'How much?' \n'About two hundred and fifty drakhmai.' \n'And this was specifically a commission for your aid in persuading \nthe Egyptian merchant to do as Epikrates wished?' \n'Well, yes - a commission. He paid me other money for ... for my \nregular services.' She flushed charmingly, like the first clouds of \ndawn, and then began to weep, silently, the tears welling into her eyes \nand starting down her lovely cheek, without any howls or sniffs. The \nmaterial with which she had outlined her eyes remained admirably \nsteadfast at its post. '0 \nsirs, 1 am in great trouble - for what can a poor \nwoman do when accused by the rich and great?' \n'You don't seem in any particular danger,' said Aristotle cautiously. \n64 \n\n\nSWEETNESS AND BEES \n'This is not a criminal case. I don't see how it can be made out to be \nanything more than a civil disagreement, if there were no more to it \nthan a legal matter between two gentlemen.' \n'No, indeed. Epikrates signed a contract-' \n'Ah, it is only legal if \nthere were a contract - a written contract. But \nhow do you know there really was a contract? Did you actually see \none?' \n'Oh, yes, sir, indeed. I saw it and Epikrates was in his right mind \nand knowingly signed it. He set his name in full, not just his mark.' \n'Ah. That seems satisfactory. Well, all that Epikrates can really ask \nfor in law is some of \nhis money back. He cannot succeed in a criminal \nprosecution. He can probably get a favourable hearing for his demand \nnot to bear the burden of the debts that came with the perfumery \nbusiness foisted on him along with the slaves. Tell your friend \nAthenogenes that making such a bargain with concealed debts in it is \na mean trick, and if he persists in such things he is likely to get into \nserious trouble in Athens. As for you - you can only be in trouble to \nthe extent that you were involved. But, as it isn't a criminal case, and \nyou are a freedwoman, you need have no fear for your skin. The law \ncase may affect your business, if you are asked (though it is unlikely \nthat this would be demanded) to help restore some of the money. \nAnd you said your business is very small, only two harlots employed \nas well as yourself? In that case, Stephanos, you need not apply, for \ntheir house is sure to be too busy.' \n'Oh, sir.' The courtesan gathered herself together and stood up \ngracefully. 'If you or your young friend should wish to come to my \nhouse you would be well entertained, I dare avow. Actually I do have \nthree girls at command now - but you could always get the very best.' \nShe looked at both of us, coyness mingling with a certain \nscepticism or just deprecation. Although as I looked at her longer I \nsaw she was not in her first youth, she still seemed magnificent. With \nher curling tendrils and green-leaf sandals she was a female \nmanifestation of \nDionysos. \n65 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'Farewell,' said Aristotle, rising courteously. 'The porter will see \nyou out.' \n'Allow me,' I said. I had the pleasure of handing her to the main \ndoor, feeling the silken skin of \nher soft hand and the shape of \nher arm \nthrough the soft material of \nher clothing. I also had the satisfaction to \nmy curiosity of \nseeing her stepping into a little one-ass cart and being \ndriven away by her slave. So, after all, she had not had to walk dusty \nroads in those wonderful green-tendrilled sandals. \nAt the departure of this new Antigone, Aristotle turned to me. \n'Did you see, Stephanos?' he asked, with some of his old eager \nanimation. \n'That woman gave herself away! She herself did see the \ncontract - therefore she was a party to the whole thing. I can almost \nguarantee that this charming Antigone is a secret - or not-so-secret -\npartner of the perfume-seller Athenogenes. I will get hold of \nHypereides and tell him as much. I shall also suggest that Epikrates \nmake as his excuse in the law case the statement that he was besotted \nby this woman - carried away with love for her! Let him say \"Eros \nworking together with a woman is much too powerful for male \nnature, and can overthrow any man.\" Thus Epikrates can say he did \nwhat Antigone asked without knowing entirely what he did. It would \nbe better, by the way, for Epikrates if \nhe could declare that he wished \nto free the boy he spent the money on.' \n'I suppose,' I agreed, 'that it would look a little more noble and a \ngood deal less crass.' \n'Precisely. But I shall tell Hypereides to produce this Antigone \nherself before the jury. Let Epikrates say he was besotted with love \n- and then let her be produced in the flesh. She would have a terrific \neffect. Just imagine her in a courtroom! Men would readily believe \nthat Epikrates was carried away by love-desire - intoxicated, in the \nmanner of men. They would thus find his stupidity much more \nforgivable. If that last will and testament is wrong which has been \nmade by a man under the influence of his wife, how much more \nwrong is that contract which has been made under the undue and \n66 \n\n\nSWEETNESS AND BEES \nomnipotent influence of a powerful courtesan.' \n'Do you think that is altogether fair to her?' I asked. 'She came to \nyou as a suppliant, after all.' \n'But why did she come? Probably to see if she could get something \nout of the pro-Makedonians, since Hypereides and the anti-\nMakedonians are against her. But this beautiful whore is not honest. \nShe knew too much about that contract. And she must have received \nmore from Epikrates than the two hundred and fifty drakhs. For she \nhas recently bought another girl for her establishment, and that costs \na handsome sum. Especially as this madam evidently is in the fine \nhetaira line, and must go in for elegance and good conversation, \nperhaps offering a little music as well. Upon my word, Stephanos, I \nhope your youthful heart - or loins - may not be overset by this vision! \nAntigone, indeed. Well, the original Antigone was persistent too, I'll \nsay that.' \nI was affected by the vision of \nthis Antigone (and by her scent, and \nthe touch of her hand), though I was wise enough not to go to her \nhouse. Actually, my body still yearned after the Egyptian Tita (seen \nonly once and never enjoyed by me) in the rocky little harbour \nunder the cliffs of Delphi. I did go to a good brothel that night, and \nwas glad I did. I finished the evening by drinking a great deal, to the \nsound of flutes; I got home late (or early) and slept a deep healthy \nsleep. \nThe next morning I set out in pursuit of \nmy future wife's mother - or, \nrather, her relatives. By this time I had gained a little further light on \nthe subject of \nthe whereabouts of \nher family'S settlement on the lower \nslopes of Hymettos. Philomela's stepfather, whose name was \nDropides, dwelled there, on the property of \nhis wife's first husband-\na strange enough arrangement. I started off early, before sun-up, so \nas not to become tired by walking the whole distance in the heat of \nthe day. But it took me a while to get out of \nthe city, and the sun was \nadvancing as I made my way beyond the city walls towards purple \n67 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nHymettos, the range of marble hills protecting Athens on the south-\neast side. \nThe countryside was in a festival of summer, fields laughing under \nthe light. Reapers were taking in the harvest in golden armfuls. In the \nsmall gardens that ran beside or behind the humbler houses, women \ncould be seen tending the vegetables. I walked with pleasure even as \nthe day warmed. I went through a field whose crop had recently been \nharvested; the field was lying idle and placid in the early sun that \ncaused its stubble to shine and gleam like radiant precious things. In \nthe middle of the field was a little closed house, obviously the \nproperty of a phratry, and holding their holy objects until the next \ncelebratory occasion. \nThe land began to rise, and I was walking into hill country, \nfollowing the pine trees beside the River Ilissos as that stream \nsped swiftly (less swiftly now, in high summer) downward from its \nsource in Hymettos to give water and life to Athens. The fountain \nwhence Ilissos flows is sacred to Aphrodite, and supposed to \nremedy sterility in the man or woman who drinks from it. The \nfamily that I was looking for lived not far from the source of the \nriver, in the uplands, but on a flat part with some arable land, a \nminiature plain set in the side of \nthe mountain. As I moved upwards \nfollowing the river, trees offered welcome shade. Dragonflies \nsported on the surface of the water. The air was everywhere clear \nand grateful to the sense - not just to the smell, but to the sense of \nbreathing in itself. \nI thought I was drawing near as I moved out again from the shade \nof trees and saw a wider space. Across from me I could see a woman \nwalking through this space. She walked with such grace and dignity \nthat she looked like a princess or priestess of old time. Alone, \nmomentarily, in the landscape, she moved with purpose across it, \ntowards some objects that I could not clearly descry. I could hear the \nhum of \ninsects in the still air. \nTo the left I now saw the small farmhouse and outbuildings, \n68 \n\n\nSWEETNESS AND BEES \ncrouched in a fold of \nthe ground so as to make best use of \nthe flat and \ntillable lands. I went up to the door and knocked. All this while I was \ngreeted by the furious barking of the yard dog, who was, however, \nfirmly tied to a projection on one of the outbuildings and could not \nleap at my throat. At last I was answered by an elderly slavewoman, \nwho shuffled along and peered at me shortsightedly. Whatever this \nfamily's wealth, they did not waste money on the purchase and \nupkeep of impressive servants. \n'Who's that, Mika?' a querulous voice said from the inner room. I \nstarted to explain but was cut short. 'Don't stand maundering but \ncome in,' said the voice and I came. \nThe inner room was agreeable enough in shape and size, but not as \nagreeable as it might be made. It was full of litter. I don't mean just \ncrowded with many things, as one might say that sometimes \nAristotle's room seemed to be full of books, open and closed and \ntumbled about for reference, or that a woman's room is full of her \nsewing and fabric and loom and so on. It was full of things that are \nnot useful and that nobody would ever want. There were piles of \ncrockery, most of it cracked or chipped, and pieces of furniture that \nhad died or given up from bad usage or old age. \nDropides - for this must be the master of \nthe house - sat in a chair \nsoftened with cushions and draped with various fabrics. He was \nsipping something out of a thick pottery cup. My advent did not \ndisturb him. He looked at me and went on drinking, if \nin a well-bred \nand delicate fashion. It was an awkward moment, for I was speaking \nafter a fashion to my fiancee's grandfather, or the substitute for that \npatriarch. An elder, and the head of a house. \n'Sir,' I began formally, 'I ask your pardon for this intrusion, and \nbeg to explain my reason for coming to you. I am Stephanos son of \nNikiarkhos of Athens. Through great good fortune I have become \nacquainted with Smikrenes of Eleusis and I wish to marry his \ndaughter, whose name I am told is Philomela.' I spoke thus formally \nto avoid giving the vulgar offence of being over-familiar; it is usually \n69 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nvery rude to refer by name to the female members of a man's family. \nI took a deep breath and continued: \n'To this plan Smikrenes agrees, but I would earnestly wish to \nconsult the girl's mother's relatives likewise. Smikrenes' daughter is \nthe child of \nyour wife's daughter.' \n'Not my daughter,' Dropides interjected. He was evidently not ill-\neducated, for he spoke better than did Smikrenes, for instance, but \nhis low voice lacked colour and emphasis. Neither my arrival nor my \nstatement seemed to have excited him. \n'This I know. But you stand in relation to Philonike daughter of \nPhilokles in place of \nher father, as you are her stepfather and natural \nguardian.' \n'She doesn't need much guarding. I leave all that to my wife. My \nwife's outside now, seeing to the reaping. She works with and directs \nthe men. But she can be fetched. Mika, fetch Philokleia.' \nThe blear-eyed old woman shuflled off at his bidding. He took \nanother sip. This strangely indolent man did not look truly old, though \nhe acted elderly. He must be, I thought, a good ten or twelve years \nyounger than Hypereides (possibly more). Yet one couldn't imagine \nhim striding though the Agora or indeed anywhere else. Dropides \nseemed to live like a woman, letting his wife act in the manly way. \n'Indeed,' I said, nonplussed. 'Pray do not put your household to \ntrouble on my account.' \nHe caught my surprise. \n'I am an invalid, I fear, sir - a confirmed invalid.' He coughed \ngently. 'Philokleia my wife has a couple of years over me, but she's \nspry and wiry. I am not so young as I was. Why, you say yourself I'm \na grandfather, as it were, to Philomela. Philonike my stepdaughter is \nno chick - she's five-and-thirty, if a day. And now Philonike's \ndaughter has taken a maggot to be married! I find it \nbest to let others \ndo anything that needs doing. Why shorten life?' \nHe quietly adjusted a sheepskin, one of \nthe many mats or rugs that \nhung about his chair. \n70 \n\n\nSWEETNESS AND BEES \n'I keep my shoulders and knees warm, and try to maintain an even \nbody heat,' he explained. I thought he must truly be ill to wish for any \ncoverings or soft fabrics on a day that was so warm. Though in this \nroom, evidently thick-walled, it was not unbearably hot so much as \ntoo stuffy. The many extra objects, the cracked chairs and wormy \ntables, seemed to exhale their dust as they decayed, even while we \nwere speaking. \nMika returned, her low grumbling voice addressing someone else, \na woman who answered more sharply. \n'Ah, there's Philokleia now!' Dropides smiled. 'If \nshe stands in the \nroom just off here - with only a curtain between us - then she can \nanswer any questions you want, without you seeing her or anything \nimproper.' \nI was glad to assent, and Philokleia took up her stand as she was bid \nbehind the curtain. Her obedience, however, had its limits, for she \nremonstrated with the head of \nthe house. \n'You had best left me alone, husband, for we were getting on so \nquick with the grain, and me being gone will slow everything. \nWhatever can be the matter, that you summon me in on a working \nday? It \nwill be too hot to go on soon, and the men will insist on food \nand a nap, so part of the morning will have been clean wasted.' \n'I humbly beg your pardon, sir,' I said. It seemed best for the \nproprieties to maintain the fiction that I addressed the master of the \nhouse, and that his wife addressed him also. 'Please, 0 Dropides, \nconvey my apologies to your wife. I would not disturb you or her on \nany light occasion. But I am wishful to wed Smikrenes' daughter \nPhilomela, the child of \nyour wife's own daughter.' \n'Ha,' snorted the woman behind the curtain. 'So Philonike's brat is \nof \nmarrying age? Doesn't time fly.' It was odd to think that I had just \nheard the voice of \nPhilomela's grandmother. \n'Please tell your wife,' I directed Dropides, 'what I am saying to \nyou, that I would like to know that Philomela's marriage was \napproved by her kindred on the mother's side. And of course I wish \n71 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nto know' - this was the pith of the matter - 'whether Philomela's \nmother Philonike still has a brother living, for his approval of course \nshould be asked. As well as yours, sir,' I added carefully. \n'Mine?' said Dropides. 'Oh, mine doesn't count, I'm just a step-\nrelation. I don't know as I have ever heard of \nyou. Wife, have you ever \nheard of this man Stephanos?' \n'No, never,' said the woman. 'Smikrenes I know. We should really \ncall in my daughter, for she's the person this most concerns. Mika, \nfetch Philonike.' \nMika, muttering under her breath, went out into the heat again. I \ndid not want to slacken in my questioning; I felt the important point \nabout the brother had been passed over. I was aware, however, that I \nmight appear as a most unwelcome claimant upon the family's \nwealth. \n'If you please, sir,' I said, still addressing my remarks formally to \nDropides, despite the fact that the family supply of knowledge and \nenergy evidently - even in his own opinion - belonged to his wife. \n'What can you tell me about Philomela's uncle on her mother's side, \nthe brother of Philonike? Your stepson?' \n'Not much of a son,' said Dropides. He took a long sip from his \npot. 'A headstrong youth, little apt to listen to his elders, to my way \nof thinking. Foolish, very foolish.' \n'Humph!' said Philokleia. 'He's a good boy, my Philokles. Just \nbecause he thinks to better himself, you think he's a fool.' \nShe certainly spoke of her son in the present tense, I noted, so she \nwas reasonably sure he was still alive. \n'Where is he?' I asked. 'And why,' I demanded with conscious \ndaring, 'have you kept Philonike at home all this time? Away from her \nlawful husband?' \n'Hah!' said the woman behind the curtain. 'Keep her! She's not \nbeen a prisoner here, I can tell you.' \n'Surely not,' said Dropides, roused with some energy in his tone. \n'It was her own father brought her back, after she had lost her child -' \n72 \n\n\nSWEETNESS AND BEES \n'She was all dazed-like at that time,' interjected Philokleia. \n'So it was his doing that she was here,' said Dropides. 'Nothing to \ndo with me. I wasn't going to chase her out of \nhouse and home, that's \nall. If \nher husband wanted her, why didn't he come and get her? Isn't \nthat so, wife?' \n'Right!' said Philokleia, in a triumphant tone. 'If old Smikrenes \nwanted the girl, he should have said so and gone to some trouble \nabout it. But Philonike was happy here, you see - it's her home. She \nloves the hills and heights, the plane trees and the river, and the smell \nof thyme and the heather. Everything's too flat down in that area \naround about Eleusis, she said - no life in it.' \n'And she's good with the bees,' said Dropides. 'Some say women \nshouldn't look after bees, but she does it beautifully. And with my \nPhilokleia having enough to attend to with the farm, she found it \nhard \nto keep the bees as well -' \n'Well, that's a truth,' said Philokleia, in a resigned tone. I thought \nshe had not intended to mention this talent of \nher daughter's, which \nmade the couple seem more self-interested in retaining her. \n'Philonike looks after bees - quite wonderful - makes her own hives. \nShe don't seem to get stung like some others do. It's a sign that the \nbees choose her, you see. She loves her bees, she certainly does-' \nMika came in again; there were more sounds, and a low conver-\nsation. A tall figure came swiftly into the next room - and I realised \nthat this was my mysterious woman who walked like a princess. The \nbeekeeper. The objects she had been moving towards were her \nbeehouses. \n'Well, Philonike,' said Philokleia. 'Here we've been talking of \nyour \nbeekeeping, and how good you are at it - to a young man who wants \nto marry your daughter Philomela. Seemingly with your husband \nSmikrenes' permission. What do you think of \nthat, eh?' \n'Marry? My little Philomela - marry?' This was a beautiful voice \nthough it spoke in agitated tones. The tall and shapely woman came \nclose to the curtain. I could see her eyes glimmering through the fabric. \n73 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'Sir, assure your wife and daughter that Philomela is in good health \nand of marriageable age and is a beautiful girl - her father says,' 1 \nadded hastily. 1 must not let on that 1 had actually seen the girl \nherself. 'I pray you, Dropides, ask your stepdaughter to go and see \nPhilomela, to assure herself that the girl is well, and also that she is \nhappy with this arrangement.' \n'Ahh,' said the tall woman. 'I should so love to see her! But - 1 \ndon't think that is possible - if \n1 went, he would keep me and 1 don't \nwant to go back. I'd be afraid even to go to the wedding.' \n'Oh, but you must come to the wedding,' 1 said impulsively, \naddressing her directly through the curtain that divided us, though this \nwas not proper. 'Your mother and stepfather too, and then all will be \nwell. And you must see your daughter - if \nyou care about her at all -' \nShe laughed without humour. 'Care? She was the only reason 1 \nhesitated to leave - knowing 1 would give her up. The hardest thing \nin my life - after losing the other baby, that is.' \n'Please, good lady, see your daughter, and consent to this \nwedding,' 1 said. 'I am respectable, if not very rich, 1 am born of a \ngood family, and 1 am in good health, with some prospects. You must \nsee that lowe it to any children Philomela and 1 may have - the gods \nbe willing - that 1 should also undertake this marriage with the \nconsent of \nPhilomela's uncle, your brother.' \n'And 1 suppose,' said grandmother Philokleia in her sharper tones, \n'you will be wanting to know if there is any money in it for you?' \n'Yes,' 1 said. 'Frankly, 1 need to know whether there was or is any \ndisposition for Philomela, and thus for her children-to-be, following \nthe death of \nher father, your husband. Your first husband, 1 mean.' \nThere was a short silence. 1 heard the women whisper. Dropides \nclosed his eyes and seemed to meditate. Philonike said something like \n'We shall have to tell him!' And Philonike's mother spoke again. \n'This is the way of \nit. Of \ncourse there must be a formal accounting \nof this with someone who can attest to your standing and character. \nBut if \nmatters have gone this far, we should say \"Yes.\" There is some \n74 \n\n\nSWEE'INESS AND BEES \nportion of inheritance under the will of my late first husband, \nPhilomela's grandfather. He left a portion of \nthe land - not ancestral \nland, of \ncourse - and some money for her. Naturally, this is in the care \nof \nhis son Philokles.' \n'And where is Philokles?' I enquired. This was surely the important \nquestion. \n'Ah, well. That's a point. Philokles has gone East. The boy thought \nwhile I - and Dropides of \ncourse - managed things here, he would be \nbetter off going to one of the islands and seeing if he couldn't find a \nnew settlement there, now that everything in the East has opened up \nwith Alexander chasing the Persians away. We heard from him once \n- he is in one of \nthose islands - one with a lot of \nwind, and snakes, he \nsays, which you don't expect on islands.' \n'Rhodos, mother.' \n'Yes, Rhodos - sounds like roses, whether it's rosy or not. Of \ncourse he may have gone to the mainland by now, or to one of the \nother islands, Kos, maybe, as that is so healthy, he says. But he was \nintending to plant a small farm and open up a business on Rhodos.' \n'So -' said Dropides, opening up his eyes again. 'You would have \nto chase after him out there, young master, for we don't rightly know \nwhere to address him. If you can't find him, nothing can be done. \nHe'll come home when ready, no doubt. But there's a lot of stirring \nwork going on in the East now, a man could pick up a fortune -' \n'Humph!' Philokleia snorted. 'There's enough to be made here, if \npeople would only attend to their work. My girl Philonike, like I said, \nis wonderful with the bees.' \n'And so you have Hymettos honey,' I said with approbation. \n'Yes,' Philonike herself replied. 'We have Hymettos honey - the \nbest in the world. And our hives are in a lovely place, with sufficient \nshelter. The bees are happy, so they make the best honey. Let me give \nyou a little pot to take home with you.' \n'You might as well take it while you can,' said Dropides. 'Philonike \ndoes wonderful honey - it's so excellent that we have been able to sell \n75 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF l.lFE \nsome. Nowadays there's a big trade in it. It's valued, you see, for \ncooking and medicine both. So we are thinking of opening up the \nfarm to more beehives, since there's real money in it.' \nI thought to myself \nthat any opening up and improving the produce \nwould be done by the women without any active assistance from \nDropides. \n'That is excellent,' I exclaimed. 'Such a happy farm as you have-\nin such a lovely place!' \n'It is nice,' said Dropides, looking about his stuffy room with great \ncomplacency. 'A man likes to have all his things about him. We are \nvery well set up here - want for nothing -lots of pots. Lots of \ntables. \nAnd the best honey. Wheat and barley too. Also a few grape vines, \nmostly good for vinegar. Not much wine, but excellent vinegar. Take \na drink yourself, young sir, of cool water from Ilissos' fountain, with \na dash of our vinegar in it. Very good for the health in summertime, \nthat is. I take it myself, though sometimes I have to have a dash of \nwine instead - the vinegar sitting ill on my stomach. But have some \nwater and vinegar - with just a whisper of \nhoney, if \nyou like. Honey is \nalways good for the throat and the bowels.' \nMika brought me the drink of vinegar and water, which I drank \nunsweetened; it was delicious. This had been a favourite drink of \nmy \nchildhood in hot summers, but the water here was certainly superior, \nand the vinegar lived up to Dropides' account. \n'Mika,' said Philokleia, 'take our guest out to the storehouse and \ngive him a pot of \nhoney on his way out.' \nAt this hint I made my farewells and went obediently with Mika. \nTo my surprise tall Philonike came too - not exactly with me, but as \na shadow flitting behind. I supposed that she wanted to make sure her \nhives and honey stores were not molested. There were rows of \nhives, \npottery jars lying on their sides, or cunning hutches of \nold tree trunks. \nAs we approached the area, a warm buzz filled the air. The storehouse \nwas built into the ground, and Mika lowered herself into the coolness \nand brought back a jar. The scent of honey wafted everywhere, and \n76 \n\n\nSWEETNESS AND BEES \nthe bees started to come towards us. The door to the storehouse was \nswiftly closed. \n'How wonderful the bees are,' said Philonike. 'They know exactly \nwhat they are doing. Humans make war, but bees make honey.' \n'Don't bees sometimes make war, too?' I asked. 'We get our honey \nfrom their greed - and then we are greedy ourselves.' \n'And then such as I come and fill the hives with smoke, and destroy \ntheir golden cities,' she added. \nThere was a silence, while the bees hummed about us. Philonike \nbroke the silence at last. \n'Please, sir, find some way of conveying my warm greetings to my \ndaughter,' she said. 'I will do everything reasonable for her - except \ngo back to live with Smikrenes.' \n'You are not divorced?' \n'No - no. I have never been unfaithful. Just - not there.' \n'Was he cruel to you?' I asked, audaciously. \n'Oh no. Not according to his lights. It was just a disagreeable way \nto live. I like the hills, and the bees, and the smell of thyme. I am \nhappy enough. And I think my brother will be all right. Philokles \nalways comes well out of everything, no matter how difficult or \ndangerous. If \nyou find him, you will like him. And of course I think \nthat you and my daughter Philomela should have your share of my \nfather's estate. Whether Dropides thinks so or not is no concern of \nmine. Farewell.' \nAfter this unorthodox speech to a man not related to her, the \nstrange woman who moved like a king's daughter walked swiftly \naway. I plodded back to Athens, with the honey pot, getting warmer \nand warmer, in my hand. \n77 \n\n\nv \n===;:g-p~== \na---G' \nOdour of \nBlood \nI pondered long on the meeting with Philomela's mother and her \ngrandmother, and thought much about the farm at Hymettos. It \nreally belonged to Philomela's missing unde, the man who had gone \noff to Rhodos or somewhere. That estate did not belong at all to \nDropides, though he was certainly in the place of the male head of \nhouse - if only in his supine way. Such a man can make great \nmischief, like Aigisthos who took over Agamemnon's house and his \nwife, with Klytaimnestra's connivance. But there was no adultery in \nthis case, and Dropides did not seem like an Aigisthos. I hoped his \nstepson would not be a vengeful and resentful Orestes - I had really \nhad enough of Orestes on a former occasion. \nIf only Philomela got some share of \nthe wealth of the farm! Even a \nlittle would eke out the slender living which I had to offer. I needed \nto search out her mother's brother Philokles, the man who had so \nunkindly removed himself from Athens to seek his fortune elsewhere. \nWho knew when he would return? As long as the farm in Hymettos \nwas running smoothly, as long as his mother was alive (and as long as \nthe irritating Dropides made his home there), he might well feel no \nneed to come back. Therefore, in order to come to any arrangement \n78 \n\n\nODOUR OF BLOOD \nwith him (at least with any celerity), it appeared 1 might have to take \na long journey to the eastern islands - further than 1 had ever before \nthought of \ntravelling. The notion seemed madness when it first came \ninto my thoughts. But as 1 turned the matter over inwardly, it \nappeared less implausible. Before 1 married, 1 needed to get the \nmoney arrangements straight. But the journey itself was formidable \nto my mind. For one thing, it would mean travelling by ship, living on \nthe water, the dangerous element to which (aside from short swims) \n1 had never yet entrusted myself. \n1 tried to see Aristotle in order to consult him on the question, but \nwhen 1 arrived at his house he was engaged with another visitor, so \nprivate talk was not to be expected. 1 recognised the small man with \na quiff of unruly dark hair and bandy legs - not at all a sightly \npersonage, though he wore good clothes and behaved like a man of \nconsequence. At my entry this other visitor did not even tum around, \nmuch less rise from his chair, where he was perched with a ruffled air \nlike an offended bird. A bird of ill omen 1 later thought him, though \nperhaps that is not fair. \n'Stephanos. This is Epikrates, whom 1 think you know, the friend \nof \nHypereides.' \n1 certainly knew him, the little man who had tried to buy the boy \nfrom the Egyptian Athenogenes and who had been inveigled by that \nEgyptian perfume-seller into taking over a business with nothing but \ndebts. The last time 1 had called on Aristotle we had the memorable \ninterview with another character in the same case, the beautiful \nAntigone of \nthe Dionysiac green sandals. 1 smiled inwardly. Whatever \nthis Epikrates had been up to, he had nothing to do with Dionysos. \nEpikrates smiled sourly. 'All Athens knows of my misfortune,' he \nsaid drily. 'Hypereides suggested that 1 come and consult with \nAristotle regarding the conduct of the case - though of course \nHypereides will take charge of \nit.' \n'And you could have no better counsellor for a courtroom,' said \nAristotle heartily. 'I believe that you can force some financial \n79 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nrestitution from the perfume-seller - if not from the hetaira. I think \nyou would be well advised to leave her alone - treat her as a witness, \nmerely.' \n'Her!' exclaimed Epikrates. He jumped off his chair and stood up \nin the irritation of \nhis anger. 'That whore - that flame-haired piece of \ntrash! I would like to have the hide off both of them - her and that \nsweet stinking foreign bastard. They should both be flayed in the \nmarket-place! ' \nHaving pronounced this doom, Epikrates sat down again, his hair \nstanding straight up on his head in the agitation of the moment. This \nfellow was palpably willing me to depart so that he could continue the \ndiscussion with Aristotle. There was no chance of private conver-\nsation, so I left. At least, I reflected, Aristotle was making some friends \n- or non-hostile acquaintance - among the men who hated the rule of \nMakedon, men like Hypereides and his circle. Harmony between \nAristotle and these patriots should conduce both to the philosopher's \ntranquillity and to that of \nthe city. I had, of \ncourse, no real opportunity \nto ask after the health of Pythias on that occasion; a man cannot be \nexpected to discuss his wife while meeting with men over business. \nIt was only two days later that I called at the Lykeion, to consult \nwith Eudemos or Arkhandros about the best ways of \njourneying to the \nplaces where Philomela's uncle Philokles might be found. These \nscholars were from abroad; Eudemos was from Rhodos itself. They \nwould know the best routes and also how a voyager might get in touch \nwith people in such places as the Ionian and Karian Islands near the \ncoast of \nAsia. I should certainly need some letters of \nintroduction if I \nwent chasing through the seas to these far-off islands. Thus it was that \nI was seated in the 'book kitchen' of \nthe Lykeion in the early morning, \nwaiting for Eudemos in the company of Theophrastos and \nDemetrios, when a slave came running in: \n'0, sirs - Theophrastos, sir! The mistress' time has come this \nmorning and it's getting worse. Master says please to come, and I'm \nto go for another doctor.' \n80 \n\n\nODOUR OF BLOOD \n'Yes, go!' said Theophrastos. 'I shall come to your master at once.' \nHe turned to me. 'Perhaps you had better come too, Stephanos.' \n'I don't want to intrude at such time -' I said. \n'The Master likes you,' Theophrastos answered simply. I followed \nhim out of the Lykeion's academic rooms and into Aristotle's own \nhouse. The house had a frightened hurried air; slaves were \nwhispering in corners, and female slaves were speaking in an agitated \nmanner, and running to and fro with cloths and basins. Everything \nin this house was usually so well ordered, but this time it did not \nseem so. \nAristotle was in his lovely book-lined room. The last time I had \nseen him, consulting with and reassuring the wretched Epikrates, he \nhad seemed as he always did - lively and jovial, quick-minded, like \nthe sun at his zenith, shining from mid-heaven on the grateful earth, \nlooking with approbation alike on men, animals and plants. I was not \nprepared for seeing him so agitated, so pale. He kept running his \nfingers through his hair. \n'Sit with me, Stephanos. Please stay. I will go to Pythias from time \nto time, but a man is often in the way - the women feel this. I am a \ndoctor too! But I do not know that I am the best doctor in this \noccasion. I have sent for another who has more experience with \nwomen's ills than I have.' \nI looked about the room for aid but nobody else was about. There \nwas a beautiful water jar, and also a graceful wine-pourer on a little \ntable in the comer, with an array of cups, preparations either for the \nlong wait or for the celebration. 'Have some wine,' I suggested, but \nAristotle rejected it with a gesture. So I poured out some water, and \npersuaded him to sit down and drink it. He looked as if he had had \nvery little sleep. I suggested he lie down, but he shook his head \nvehemently. \n'Not until this is over! This is no time for sleeping. If \nonly I knew \nmore - about what might be done to ease the passage of this child. \nThe birth of little Pythias was nothing like this.' \n81 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'These things have their own time and manner,' I said to comfort \nhim. I did not know in the least what I was talking about. 'I have never \nbefore been in a house where a woman was giving birth,' I admitted. \nYet suddenly I was struck by a hazy impression of blood and \nconfusion, of someone crying behind closed doors, of noise of some \nkind, of presence and absence. Of heavy silence, like a room \nfurnished with only a stone at its centre. And bloody cloths. Yet this \ncould hardly be a recollection. I was at school all day when my mother \ngave birth to Theodoros. \nSuddenly a woman's cry came through the walls. It ripped through \nthe air and seemed to tear everything into shreds. It \nwas much worse \nthan the cries and screeches of \ntragedy - so real, you knew it must be \ntom out of the body by the power of pain. Aristotle clenched his \nhands. I could see the sweat on his forehead. \n'Pray the gods that may be because she is near the end of \nit,' I said. \n'Maybe the baby is coming out right now.' Aristotle did not reply. We \nsat in silence. \nThe terrible cry was repeated. Aristotle rushed to the door. 'I \ncannot stand this! I must go to her!' He disappeared into the private \napartments whence issued that awful sound. \nI did not like to leave him, so I stayed where I was. I felt queasy and \ntried to think of something else. But there came another terrific cry, \nso harsh, so edged that I felt the house walls might cleave under it, as \nunder a giant's sword. Then there was a silence or subdued murmur, \nand more trampling of feet in the passageway. Somewhere in the \nhouse I sensed the presence of \nblood, a scent of \nit \nwafting through the \nrooms and tainting the air. Yet, after all, I reminded myself, every \nhouse in Athens saw a childbirth from time to time, and women were \ndoing this every day ... \nThere was another cry or shout, but much fainter: the harsh edge \nand the vibrant pulsation had gone out of it. More murmuring, and \nother voices raised - someone's voice spoke the words 'Zeus Saviour' \nloudly and entreatingly. I sprang up from my chair as if! too had to \n82 \n\n\nODOUR OF BLOOD \njoin in the prayers. A long lull was followed by a subdued cry, and \nthen the wretched sound of sobbing. Then, almost like a formal \nchorus, came the regular ululation in women's traditional manner. \nThe hairs on the back of \nmy neck stood up \nSomeone was sobbing while coming down the passage to Aristotle's \nroom. The door opened. Theophrastos entered first; he was almost \nguiding Aristotle, as if \nthe Master were the blind prophet Tireseias, or \nOidipous travelling to Kolonos with Antigone pulling him along. \nAristotle indeed walked like one to whom sight was of \nno use. His eyes \nwere wet, though he did not weep and cry out. He was very pale. \n'She's dead,' he said, in a quiet and toneless voice. 'Pythias - my \nbeloved wife - is dead.' \n'And the baby?' I asked tactlessly. \nAristotle's face screwed up as if he found the words difficult to \ncreate and push out. \n'The baby is dead. It was born dead. It must have been dead for a \nwhile. 0 Stephanos!' he turned to me and leaned against me for a \nmoment, as if he were fragile. 'So much for my hopes! How could I \nhave been stupid enough to let this happen? And what will I do \nwithout her? She was my beloved, the dearest and the best!' \nI patted his shoulder awkwardly. 'I am sad for your loss,' I said \nawkwardly, trying to remember the right words for these occasions. \n'You were a good husband to her, I am sure. And you have your \nphilosophy to console you.' \n'Oh yes. Philosophy.' Aristotle started to laugh. \n'Stop that!' said Theophrastos, shaking him. I was surprised to see \nhim treat Aristotle so brutally. \n'Had he not better sit and take some wine?' I asked. \n'Yes, that's probably the best thing,' said Theophrastos. \n'But I cannot just sit here as if nothing had happened.' Aristotle \nmoved restlessly about, his eyes flickering around the room, but still \nas if he did not see what was before him. 'I should do something for \nher .. .' \n83 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'You cannot do anything,' I pointed out. 'The women will do all \nthat has to be done. And Theophrastos and Demetrios and I will \ninvite people to the funeral.' \n'The funeral should be soon,' said Theophrastos. I knew what he \nmeant. The smell of \na certain corruption, the dead baby and whatever \nelse had secretly gone dead inside Pythias before she died, seemed to \nseep through the house already. Washing and unguents would stem \nthat tide, but not for ever. The house needed to be rid of \nthat corpse, \nor corpses. \nI poured out wine for Aristotle from the jar on the table, and this \ntime he obediently sat down and drank it. 'I shall probably get drunk \nfrom a few sips and pass out,' he warned us. Both Theophrastos and \nI thought this sounded like the best plan for the moment. I was almost \nstunned myself by the naked intensity of \nhis grief, and yet somewhat \nsurprised to see the Master so overthrown merely by the death of a \nwoman. \nHe groaned. 'Why was I such a fool? Why did I let this happen?' \n'It is madness to reproach yourself,' I said. 'This was none of your \ndoing, it has nothing to do with you -' \n'Oh yes, Stephanos. It has. My philosophy - as you call it - is a \ntorture to me. For I should not have let this happen. I should have \nknown that something was wrong - known long before. I should have \nput a stop to this pregnancy. Had we done so early enough, she would \nhave been well. You cannot keep me from reproaching myself, \nbecause I did know better.' \nWe let him babble on, and plied him with drink until he sank into \nan uneasy dose and we put him (still uncleansed from his contact with \ndeath) into a bed that we ordered the slave make up in the book room. \nThe marital bedchamber would not be habitable for a long while. \nIndeed, the whole house seemed to hold a heavy miasma, an odour \nof triumphant death that would not budge. Once Aristotle was lying \ndown I left, truly thankful to be out of the house. \n* \n84 \n\n\nODOUR OF BLOOD \nOn the day after the death, I went early to visit Smikrenes. It seemed \nonly proper to discuss with him the new possibility of \nmy roaming to \nthe eastern islands in search of Smikrenes' brother-in-law Philokles. \nThis sole uncle of my bride-to-be evidently had the correct \ninformation about the inheritance of \nPhilomela's mother, and he was \nthe only person who could legally agree to give us access to it. \nSmikrenes was almost cheerful at the prospect of an influx of \nwealth, \nbut soon inclined to his more natural gloom. \n'Them people always makes things sound better than they are,' he \nwarned me. 'It's not as if they was rushing to give you anything now, \nwhen they might do. I remember Philokles - always dashing here, \ndashing there, very impatient. I don't know as I'd want to deal with \nhim.' \n'Well, we have to deal with him.' I was really thinking that \nSmikrenes should have dealt with him long ago. 'No one who lives at \nthe Hymettos farm at the moment has full legal control,' I pointed \nout. 'The woman's second husband does not have inheritance rights, \nand is not the true governor of the place or the inheritance. And the \nwomen - your wife and mother-in-law - cannot act legally, though \ntheir work is causing the estate to prosper. Philokles seems to be well \noff, given that this estate must be his inheritance. If there is a part \nshare for your wife and her child, we might well be able to combine \nto create a business with the honey alone which would bring an \nincrease of \nwealth. And any immediate settlement in property, cattle \nor cash would assist myself and Philomela immensely at the \nbeginning of a marriage.' \n'I see that well enough,' he said. 'Strange, ain't it. Here I am, near \nthe coast - and you in the city - and Philonike's family in the hills. \nWe'll make a trittys by ourselves, our family, once you unite with it.' \nI laughed at his little joke, likening us to one of \nthe units created in \norder that different areas of Athens should feel united. Each deme \nbelonged to a 'threesome' or 'trinity', an association of \neach region of \nthe town within the walls with a region near the sea and a region in \n85 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nthe hill country. Of course in the real political arrangement, \nHymettos still counted as in the town of Athens; it was the region \nbeyond that counted as the 'country beyond the hills'. My future \nfather-in-law, however, was pleased at his wit, and my response to his \njest made him more kindly disposed to me. 1 thought it best to bring \nup at that time the subject of money for immediate use. \n'If \nsomebody doesn't find Philokles and pin him down,' 1 said, 'he \nmay not be back in Athens for years - if ever. He might get rich in a \nnew colony and decide to stay. Or he may die in the islands and \nnobody hear of it for years. So the proper course for all our benefit \nwould seem for me to go to the East and seek him. But that is an \ninvestment of money as well as of time, and 1 have very little of the \nformer thing, though 1 have some time.' \n'I have to say, 1 shouldn't want to go dashing about the world,' \nsaid Smikrenes. 'All very well for people with nothing better to do. \nDangerous, though. I'm happy where 1 am. Still, 1 dare say as it's \nmy wife's money we're looking for, you're right. And 1 will put \nsomething into the venture.' He sighed heavily, and 1 knew it would \nbe hard for him to part with money. But at least the plan was \nbeginning to form, and before 1 left Smikrenes' home 1 had \nencouraged him to name a sum that, if \nnot munificent, would make \nmy journey possible. \nThis was not a day of pleasure but a business day. 1 caught a \nglimpse of Philomela, but was not trying to do so. Before yesterday 1 \nhad begun to look forward to marriage, thinking of \nthe pleasure of \nthe \nbed, the regularity of \nlife, and the increased respect from other men -\neven though 1 was full young for marriage. 1 had thought of giving \nPhilomela more rest and some treats. 1 had even begun to imagine, \nidly, some children to result from our union: a little boy and a little \ngirl, vague figures who played happily about a rather hazy garden \nwithin my mind. But the events of \nyesterday made marriage taste like \nblood and sweat. New fears accompanied the idea of the new \nresponsibility. After all, if \nPhilomela remained on her father's farm in \n86 \n\n\nODOUR OF BLOOD \nher present condition, a tranquil if hard-working virgin, she would \nnot have to challenge death in that ruthless form which had \nconquered Pythias. I did not like to think of Philomela uttering such \ncries as I had heard. The gods can surely wring from us our dearest \npossessions. \nI left Smikrenes' farm while it was still night, in order to get back \nto Athens in time for the funeral next day. When I arrived in the city, \nit was just at the break of \ndawn, the time when the working slaves and \nsome citizens begin to be up and doing. As I was on one of \nthe streets \napproaching the Agora, I encountered two respectable men talking \ntogether. I recognised one of \nthem: sardonic Theosophoros, who had \nthought fit officiously to befriend me in the Agora a few days \npreviously. The other man, much younger, was my acquaintance \nGorgias. He lived nearby, in the grand house that had belonged to his \nfather, Lysippos, a wealthy silversmith now far away. \n'It is certainly an outrage,' said Theosophoros. 'What can it mean? \nBut possibly it is a kind of accident - some young louts at play.' \n'What is the trouble, gentlemen?' I enquired, coming up to them. \nGorgias appeared pale and agitated, but it had long been my \nimpression (because of \nthe circumstances of \nour first meeting) that he \nwas always pale and agitated. That was his usual style. Such a \njudgement was somewhat unfair, as Gorgias laboured under extreme \ndifficulties at our first acquaintance. \n'Another curse has fallen on my house,' he announced tragically. \nThe tragical seemed Gorgias' natural mode. \n'What curse?' \n'This morning I found a dead dog at our gate.' \n'So?' I said unsympathetically. 'Dogs die all the time. Why not at \nyour gate or mine?' \n'It was a killed dog.' He shuddered. 'Come and see, Stephanos. I \nhave not moved it - I was going to report it to the prytany. Whoever \ncommitted this vile action has made my herm impure!' \nWith these cryptic words he led us back to his (or rather his \n87 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nfather's) house, the handsome mansion built in the old days and \npurchased by a wealthy silver merchant who had been able to make \nimprovements. 1 had been there twice before last spring, once for a \ndinner and shortly after that to help when Gorgias' cousin was \nmysteriously abducted and Aristotle was called in to consult about \nthe matter. This fine house of course had a well-made herm. Every \nhouse in Athens has a herm in front of it, a pillar usually of stone, \nsometimes of bronze, with a male genital carving and a head on the \ntop. Sometimes the penis is just sketched in and sometimes it is quite \nelaborate, with a carving of \nthe balls and the rod. The herm marks the \nsacred boundary of the house, wards off evil, and protects the \nhousehold with the energy of divine fertilising power. Since this is a \nrepresentation of \na deity, commonly said to be Hermes, who protects \nthe house and gives it fertility and abiding life, any shame to a herm \nis an act of sacrilege. \nWhen we got to the silversmith's house we could see clearly enough \nwhat he meant. The top of his herm was obscured by a very large, \nvery dead dog. The unfortunate animal had been sliced open the \nlength of the body. A deep cut or trench ran along in its underside \nfrom the throat through the belly to the genital area, so all its inner \nsecrets were exposed. Entrails dangled everywhere. The genitals (it \nwas decidedly a male dog) had been partly cut loose, left dangling in \nobscene parody of the genital marking upon the sacred pillar. Flies \nhad begun to work on the bloody mess. \n'You see?' said Gorgias. 1 had to admit he had a right to look \npale. 'I should report this. It is not only an insult to me, but a \nsacrilege!' \n'I do see that,' 1 admitted. \n'Anyone can see that,' sniffed Theosophoros. 'Perhaps not boyish \nplay, after all. Who could have done this, Gorgias? And why? Don't \nyou think this insult must have been meant for your father - and your \ndeceased uncle - rather than for you?' \nGorgias' voice took on an edge of dangerous self-control as he \n88 \n\n\nODOUR OF BLOOD \nreplied, 'As to what men of barbarous mind or childish louts may \nthink 1 am not able to say.' \n'Quite so,' 1 agreed. 'I suppose you had better report this to the \nauthorities, Gorgias, and then deal with the household pollution after \nyour slaves have carted the corpse of \nthis dog away.' \n'Certainly 1 am not going to bury it on my property,' said Gorgias. \n'But 1 don't want my mother to hear of it - she is very unwell this \nsummer. So the sooner 1 go about the business - and the more quietly \n- the better. 1 was wondering about asking Aristotle-' \n'Please leave Aristotle alone,' 1 said bluntly. 'Have you not heard? \nHis wife is dead and he buries her today.' \n'Ah, yes,' said Theosophoros. 'Unlucky to contaminate a funeral \nby conversing about funeral of a dead dog.' \nHis words reminded me that 1 should wash and change and get rid \nof the pollution acquired in the vicinity of the dead animal. 1 was \ncovered with dust and needed to wash anyway, and there was little \ntime to lose. With a few reassuring words to Gorgias 1 slipped away. \nWhen 1 arrived at Aristotle's house, after a proper interval for \nablution, 1 realised that the funeral would of course be small, as it was \nonly for a woman. Many of \nthe teachers in the Lykeion were there, and \nsome of \nthe students. A few friends of \nAristotle's came. If \nthe little baby \nwho had died while still hidden in the womb had lived to taste the air, \nand been held in his father's arms and given a name, then - even if \nit \nhad lived but an hour - a son of the house would have died, and the \nnumber who came to the funeral would have been much greater. \nDecorously we accompanied to the Kerameikos the corpse - or \nrather, corpses - of \nthe woman who had once lived and the infant who \nhad never truly been alive. Aristotle, clad in one black garment, \nwalked slowly after the bier. The bier was also attended by a group of \nwailing women (their lament kept within bounds, as recent laws \nfrowned on great exhibition of grief). 1 thought the woman who led \nthe troop of \nfemale mourners must have been Herpyllis, the favourite \nslave of Pythias, who had come from her old home to assist her \n89 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nmistress through childbirth; really, as it proved, to help her through \nher last days. Men looked serious, the women clustered together, \nfaces veiled. The schoolboys fidgeted a little. One of these boys \nlooked about him vacantly, as if \nwondering what he was doing there. \nHe yawned and sighed. Parmenion, the young man of disturbed \nmind. \nThe body was placed in the deep earth, and Aristotle scattered \nupon it a few valuables - a cup, a necklace, a ring with gems, earrings \nflashing brightly one last time in the light as they dropped out of \nthe \nliving world. Aristotle was still pale but in complete command of \nhimself, like a man and a philosopher. \nWe went together back to his house, where we stood about in the \ncourtyard; we all needed a ritual wash by now before going entering \na house, or we might pollute it with the funeral proximity to a corpse. \nThe senior scholars stood about the bereaved Aristotle, taking the \nplace of relatives, and the boys formed a kind of silent chorus as we \nwere moved to commiserate with him in careful words. The \ngentlemen, or most of \nthem, departed, but I lingered. \n'0 \nAristotle,' I said. 'This is a hard day for you. It makes me sad to \nsee you.' \n'It is hard,' he said. 'And now the funeral is over. My wife is gone \n- gone absolutely! It seems so strange. The house will feel empty. But \nat least now, Stephanos, I am going to design the most marvellous \nmonument to her. I know someone who will make it up quickly for \nme. Pythias shall not long lie in an unmarked grave. And what words \nand images can do to commemorate her I shall cause to be done.' His \nhand flickered as ifhe were already at his writing stylus, designing the \nmonument in accord with his imagining. \nI could feel that he was consoling himself with having something \nelse he was going to do for Pythias. It seemed sad to think of him \nspending time designing a tombstone - he who could so readily write \nbooks for all mankind to read. \n90 \n\n\nVI \n==~9_,..::;e== \na\"-'G \nParts of \nAnimals \nThe dead dog left in front of Gorgias' house had been partly erased \nfrom my mind, as the funeral ofPythias supplanted it in my attention. \nI must stress that the episode of the dead dog was the first of the \noutrages - at least as far as anyone acknowledged. And that first \noutrage came before the affair of the monument - a fact about which \nit seems important to be clear. As for the indignity inflicted upon \nyoung Gorgias, it appeared obvious to me at first that (as Gorgias \nhimself \nsuspected) this was a personal insult, the work of \nsome enemy \nto his family. Most likely it had to do with a grievance against his \nfather or his uncle. Or it \nmight have been merely the work of \nsomeone \nwho felt anger over the family's dealings in silver. Gorgias himself \nwas \nalways ready to see things in terms of a tragic destiny. The idea of a \nmalign fate hanging over the prosperous family of silversmiths was, \nafter a fashion, not unpleasing. If \nthey were the peculiar target of \nthe \ngods, then the rest of \nus were free from harm. \nBut that this was not the right explanation became apparent in the \ndays following the funeral of Pythias. The next outrage affected my \nold acquaintance, most unbeloved by me, the prosperous Eutikleides. \nIn the past, this man had taken a leading part in trying to fasten great \n91 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nharm to our family in connection with a notorious murder. As this \nattempt was defeated, he was never in very good humour with myself, \nbut he had made his position more secure with the government, and \nalso with the people (by pious acts and large donations). By this time, \nhe had recovered his station among the citizens; the fact that he was \nof \na leading family, one of \nthe tribe of \nthe Etioboutadai, did not injure \nhis chances. Lykourgos, himself a member of the Etioboutadai, had \nbeen promoting the cause ofEutikleides and his worthiness to lead an \nembassy. But now this eminent citizen received fame for a different \nreason. \n'Eutikleides finds a dead donkey,' chortled the citizens and their \nhangers-on in the Agora. \n'Eutikleides is a dead ass,' the commonplace wits giggled. \n'Not entirely true, for this was not an entire ass. Matter offact,' said \none wiseacre, 'strictly speaking, it was not \"a dead ass\" that \nEutikleides found on his herm. Not the whole animal. It was the rear \npart only of \nthe beast which graced his frontage.' \n'Eutikleides is an ass's arse!' So burst out the obscener wits, chalk-\ning the statement on walls for remembrance. Eutikleides became \nintimately associated in such scrawls with the rear end of a useful \nworking animal. \nIf \nthere were a certain enjoyment of the discomfiture of sour-faced \nEutikleides, it did not endure. Unease took the place of \nmerriment as \nmore and more citizens awoke to find the body parts of animals \npolluting their herm, gateway or door. The front half of Eutikleides' \ndonkey (minus the head) turned up - very dead - in front of the door \nof another much poorer citizen, and the head of the donkey \n(presumably it was the same animal), very maggoty by this time, at last \ncame to light too, set up at the entry of \na prominent and likeable man. \nSmaller families of lesser importance received smaller portions of \nanimals: a portion of a body of a weasel, or a very dead rat. One got \na boar's pizzle, another the leg of a goat. These, like the majority of \nthe segmented animals, had died a natural death, and were too well \n92 \n\n\nPARTS OF ANIMALS \naged to be used for eating. The goat, for instance, had probably \nslipped and died amid the rocks and been found a good while after. \nSo the victims of \nthe prank or insult did not have even the consolation \nof \na meat meal. The thing was always ugly and noxious to the senses. \nAmusement and vexation turned to alarm as houses were polluted \nand families shamed. \n'This is a terrible thing!' said one citizen, speaking to friends in the \nAgora. 'We must take it \nup in the Boule! The Council should not rest \nuntil we know who is doing these things.' \n'These are dreadful outrages,' another agreed. 'They augur very ill \nfor Athens.' \n'Another Alkibiades has come upon us!' lamented a third. 'This is \nlike the Mutilation of \nthe Herms - an insult to religion and a threat to \nthe state!' \nEveryone shuddered at the recollection of the Mutilation of the \nHerms, a terrible if mysterious episode in our history. Of course, \nnobody actually recollected it - though perhaps in Attika there were \none or two ancient dodderers who had been alive (or at least born) at \nthe time. But we had all heard about it. Long ago the brilliant young \naristocrat Alkibiades, protege of \ngreat Perikles and friend of \nSokrates, \nhad (so it was alleged) led a group of \nyouths in seriously damaging or \neven destroying many of the herms of Athens, lopping off the virile \nmembers, and chopping off or severely defacing the heads. Thus they \ninsulted religion and so were said to be trying to subvert the \nconstitution of \nthe city. The beautiful herms standing outside public \nbuildings in the Agora, antiques with ancient carved heads, were \nseverely damaged, in a horrid desecration of a sacred area. Shortly \nafter this mysterious outbreak of destruction, Alkibiades led the \nExpedition to Sikilia (ill-fated as that was), and refused to come back \nto stand trial when it was determined he had a case to answer \nregarding the Mutilation of the Herms as well as another piece of \nblasphemy, an enacted parody (so it was alleged) of the sacred - and \nsecret - rites of \nEleusis. \n93 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nAlkibiades' irreligious behaviour threatened the well-being of \nAthens. But instead of coming to defend himself at a trial, he went \nover to the enemy and fought for Sparta. Later, after he saved the \nAthenians at Samos, he was rewarded: not only allowed to return but \ngiven a command. But thereafter, unpopular following a defeat, he \nfled again, took the side of the Persians, and died in Phrygia. \nAlkibiades, handsome, lovable and intelligent, proved to be a brilliant \ntraitor. This puzzling man had no loyalty to anybody but himself. But \nwe did not have such flamboyant aristocrats nowadays, surely. And \nwhoever did this was getting his - or their - hands very dirty with \nblood and putrescence and disgusting substances, not just chipping \nat stone as Alkibiades and his gang must have done. \nI should have liked to discuss the question with Aristotle, and to \nconsider with him too the case of Alkibiades, but it was obviously a \nmistake to intrude upon his grief. Patently, this was the right time to \nput my own wits to work, to see if I could make any sense of this \ndisturbing pattern of \nimpious insult. Was it a horrible joke? I remem-\nbered that Theosophoros had first suggested to Gorgias that the \ndeposit of dead dog with which he had been favoured was a prank of \nyoung people. That comforting explanation twitched a recollection of \nanother incident - the death of the vaunting bull-faced boy. This \nsturdy son of a fisherman had been killed after the Bouphonia, with \nthe ritual weapon used in the ox-killing. It was suggested in the \nlawcourt that the death of this boy was a prank that went wrong, a \nkilling brought about by foolish play among loutish youths unknown. \nBut how many such dangerous youths could there be in Athens? \nAt least these latest outrages did not involve the death of \na person. \nThe beings killed and cut up were all animals. Why animals? Well, I \nreasoned, if you want to pollute a place with blood, animal-killing is \ncheaper, easier and less risky than homicide. And the person - or \nmore likely persons - committing these outrages apparently found it \nmore convenient to use on most occasions animals already dead, \nrather than working at a fresh slaughter each time. I reasoned, looking \n94 \n\n\nPARTS OF ANIMALS \nat the evidence, that care was evidently taken by the delinquent and \nbloody prankster not to steal animals. The theft of someone's beast \nwould entail severe legal penalties, and there was the risk that an \nidentifiable animal could point to the identity of the animal-killer. \nNormally - if the word can be used of such an abnormal activity -\nthese unknown and sinister louts preferred parts of animals taken \nfrom a defunct creature. Beasts of any value for food or labour, \ndomesticated animals which might figure in criminal indictment, had \nbeen all too evidently dead already of \nnatural causes before being cut \nup and used. Only common dogs, and vermin such as rats and \nweasels and so on, appeared freshly and bloodily killed. The parts of \nanimals seemed to signify not only pollution but also mortality. A \nreminder of mortal nature, a mocking recall of death? Was it only \nthat? Or did this exhibition hold a further message - a menace? \nAfter much reflection, I made a list of \nthe persons who had received \nthese bloody tokens, starting with Gorgias and Eutikleides. Of \ncourse, I realised as I worked on my list that I could not affirm that I \nor anyone else really knew of \nall cases. Probably some people who had \nbeen thus visited managed to keep their own secret. Looking closely, \nhowever, at the list of \nnames I knew of, it \nbecame clear to me that they \nhad one thing in common. All who had been so unpleasantly visited \nwere known to be supporters of - or salient beneficiaries of -\nMakedonian rule. \nThis was worrying. I could clearly see that I myself might be \nplaced among that number. In a mad moment, I even wondered if \nLykourgos himself were engaged behind the scenes in doing this \nnasty deed in order to unsettle his opponents. But I rejected that \nnotion - Lykourgos, so staunch for national unity, for order and \nprosperity, would find such tactics and bloody manifestations deeply \nrepulsive. The Council and the government in general were \nobviously trying not to make too much fuss over these outrages. I \ncould see the point in not setting a panic a-going. But, even if \nit \nwere \nmerely the work of \nyoung louts in sad want of \na good whipping, there \n95 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nwas something very disturbing about this reeking joke. Its unpre-\ndictability was part of \nits power. Some days there would be nothing, \nthen on another day there might be two such bloody or putrefying \nmanifestations of \nthe flesh. \nI went to see Aristotle, to condole with him and not to consult him \nabout these bloody appearances. It seemed better not to mention to \na man in such mourning the disturbing and unpleasant symptoms of \nhubris affecting the city at large. In order to be soothing I deliberately \nbored him with talking about my own life, my planned marriage, my \nwife's relatives. I explained about the bees and the possibly profitable \nsale of honey. Aristotle awakened mentally a little when I mentioned \nthe bees. \n'I studied bees at one time, extensively,' he remembered. 'Com-\nplicated little creatures. There are several kinds. Each hive has a \nleader twice as large as the gold worker bee. Some call these \"kings\" \nand others \"mothers\" of \nthe swarm. The present month is their best \nseason for honey-making and also for laying the best and strongest \nlarvae. They make no honey before the rising of the Pleiades. If \nyour \ntaste is acute - like my own - you can tell at once if honey is made \n-from thyme in flower. I dare say you are right about an increasing \ndemand for Hymettos honey. But how are you going to get your \nhands into it? - to use a sticky metaphor.' \nI explained again about the absent Philokles and then told him my \ntentative plans for a journey to the eastern islands. He was mildly \ninterested. \n'It will be a great distance to go,' he said. 'You had better ask \nEudemos of Rhodos to make you some kind of \nmap. And he can tell \nyou about Rhodos, perhaps draw a plan of that island.' \nI agreed, though in fact I had already thought of all this and had \nconversed with Eudemos and others at the Lykeion about the journey \nand my destination. \n'You must come tomorrow,' said Aristotle. 'For the monument. I \nhope my monument will be finished. I told them I would come \n96 \n\n\nPARTS OF ANIMALS \ntomorrow to see it. They've been working day and night to oblige me. \nIt \nwill be so beautiful!' \nWhen I returned on the morrow, Aristotle was unusually brisk and \nmore cheerful than he had been since the death of \nhis wife. He led me \nto a place not very distant from the Kerameikos, where the stone \ncarvers had been working on the monument. We crossed a dry yard, \nthe ground covered with stone chips, small pieces of \nmarble and mica \nthat hurt to walk upon and glinted in the sun. We passed on into a \nshed, dark until the light was cast upon it through the open door. The \nmason was there, doing his best not to grin proudly as he and his \nassistants gestured towards the far wall. I suspected that they had got \nup a drama to please Aristotle in creating an effect, for at the \nbeginning the monument was nowhere visible. Something occupied \nthe far wall, however, something that took a great deal of space -\nsomething with a cloth thrown over it. With a flourish, at a signal \nfrom Aristotle, the mason twitched off the cloth. \nSliding out from under the folds of \ncoarse drapery was a lady - first \nher head and a shoulder, then the magnificent proportions of her, \ncomplete to her sandalled feet. It \nwas a lovely woman sculpted in high \nrelief, as if she had left the world of \nearth to become newly embodied \nin a different kind of flesh. She was seated, within the conventional \nshrine square. Before her was a bearded man, with his face averted, \nshielding his face with his cloak; the man nevertheless let his grief be \nknown in the tension and droop of his body. The two were touching \nhands, in a sweet but dignified version of the classic farewell scene. \nThe lady, in all her gentleness, even with her touch of sadness, \nseemed full oflife and glory. She was beautifully painted, her robe in \nblue with an edging of red and touches of gold. With the hand that \nwas not in her husband's she was holding a golden sheaf of wheat. \nHer sculpted head, though the back was partly covered with a \ntransparent veil, yet revealed her dark hair touched with reddish-\nbrown, and the slight circlet of gold that crowned that head turned \nslightly towards us as if in enquiry or pity. Her eyes were painted \n97 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nlifelike, deep brown pupil surrounded by clearest white. She shed a \nbeneficent gaze upon the dull dark shed. 'The monument sustained \nthe radiant glow of \nfine marble, and the touches of \ngold made it sing. \nI gazed on this effigy of Pythias - whom I had never seen or known -\nand thought she looked like Demeter herself. So might Demeter look, \nthe goddess mother who had known bereavement, comforting a \nmortal with grace and graciousness. Pythias herself, but not herself. \n''There!' said Aristotle. 'Pythias had a special reverence for \nDemeter. Hence the wheat. She is reflected in Demeter, and Demeter \nin her.' He said nothing, I noted, about the mourning man, himself \nin shaded effigy. 'The stone is the best Pentelic marble,' he con-\ntinued. 'And there - see, on the stone, the writing -' Aristotle moved \nme closer, so I could read the inscription upon the monument. It was \nlarge enough to offer much space for lettering. In the fine white \nmarble the letters were clearly chiselled and easy to read: \nPYTHIAS \nDaughter of \nHermias of \nAtarneos \nWife of \nAristotle \nSweetest and Best \nEminent for Virtue, Renowned for Piety, \nand the Intellect that reaches to heaven \nGiven to all good works \nMuch loved. \nLet her memory be ever honoured in Athens where \nshe lived and died. \nDearest, farewell. \nOffered by her Husband, Ari \n'It's not finished yet,' said the mason apologetically, 'but it should \nbe done by tomorrow morning. We've only to fmish the name \n\"Aristotle\" as you see and put in \"son of Nikomakhos\" as you \ndirected.' \n98 \n\n\nPARTS OF ANIMALS \n'If \"Nikomakhos\" wasn't such a long name,' put in his foreman \n(rather impudently I thought), 'we could have had it done tonight, for \ncertain. Good we had a monument in preparation that someone else \ndropped out of \npaying for - we couldn't never have done it this quick \notherwise.' \n'How do you like the inscription, Stephanos?' asked Aristotle. 'It is \nnot as long as I could have made it, but it \nexpresses something, do you \nnot think so?' \n'Oh, yes,' I said. \n'The day after tomorrow,' said Aristotle, 'we shall put it up. This \nmonument will be some consolation to me; I think I shall often go to \nthe Kerameikos to see it. I have asked a few friends to come while the \ntombstone is put in place. I should like you to be there, Stephanos.' \nI agreed. Pythias had gone. Her tomb said so. I believed that once \nAristotle had put up the tombstone he would feel better. Surely now \nhis life would reassume its normal shape. I was very wrong about that. \n'Pythias will not go unmarked,' said Aristotle, with a long sigh. We \nwent off to our respective houses. A thunderstorm had gathered, \noffering unusual refreshment in the heat, and I was soon drenched. \nThe ground was still wet when I arose the next morning before \ndawn, awakened unusually early. Perhaps, so I later thought, some \nsound or movement had disturbed my sleep. I went outside, to see if \nour drains had worked properly; I was a trifle worried about our roof \nand water-spouts. Thus, thankfully, I arose early and was the only \nmember of our household to fmd the abominable present someone \nhad left for us. I didn't really see the dreadful gift at ftrst. When I \ncame out I heard footsteps and went to the front of \nthe house to peer \nover the gate. I was just in time to see a couple of \nmen (slaves, judging \nby their scant attire and bare feet) running down the street. They \nturned a comer, but before they vanished into the morning's dusk I \ncaught a glimpse of \nthe larger and slower of \nthe two, and thought he \nlooked slightly familiar. One of \nthe slaves attending on Thrasymakhos \n- or had it been Megakles? - when we met these gentlemen at the \n99 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nBouphonia. Perhaps - perhaps not. I could not be certain, they were \na dim flash before the eye. Then I turned back to the house frontage \nand saw our herm. \nThe herm was there, our herm of modest sandy stone with its \ncarved head which I knew so well, blurred by age, its face and beard, \nlike its virile member, slightly crumbling. It stood where it had always \ndone. But it now had acquired a new part. The head of a horse had \nbeen jammed on top of \nit. It was as if our herm had metamorphosed \ninto an animal - also, oddly, as if the herm had playfully decided to \nwear a grotesque hat, or put on a mask as at a play in the theatre. \nThe horse's head smelt of \ndecay but most of \nthe flesh was still upon \nit. One eye was partly eaten away, by maggots or by birds. The other \neye remained, as I could see by the silvery light of the pre-dawn sky. \nThis good eye had been forced to stay wide open; someone had stuck \nthe eyelid permanently back to the head with a pin. The dead horse \nwinked at me in a giant leer. The big teeth of \nthe animal, ridged and \ndirty white, distinctly showed in its open mouth. As I looked into that \nmouth, I saw a long yellow worm begin to crawl forward along the \ntongue. I nearly puked on the spot. But this was no time to indulge \nmy inner feelings. I had to get rid of the thing. Conquering my \nrepulsion, I took the dead object in both hands. I rushed to the shelter \nof \nthe back premises, within our walls - at least the neighbours should \nnot see this. Even at this early hour, a cloud of flies went with me, a \nbuzzing halo around that horrid head. \nIt \ntook me a while in my haste to find the implements I needed, but \nI did eventually get a spade and some other tools, and dug vigorously \nin an obscure part of \nthe yard, making as deep a hole as I could to put \nthe rotting head in. I never liked horses, and I liked this one less than \nany as I sent it to its rest. Once the earth had covered it I would (I \nhoped) lose my aureole of flies which troubled, buzzed, and bit. For \nthe first time I was glad that our old house-dog had died, a few days \nbefore, even if near the end he was so feeble that he might not have \nbeen able to dig up the grave. The site of \nthis interment was soon just \n100 \n\n\nPARTS OF ANIMALS \na rough place in the yard. I threw a pile of brush on the spot, as if it \nhad fallen there accidentally, the sort of thing that people always \nintend to remove but don't really bother with. \nI worked stealthily, for I did not wish to awaken even our slaves. \nThe kind of work I was doing is certainly a job for slaves, but the \ninconvenience of employing them struck me forcibly. I wished no \nbeing capable of \nspeech to know about this. If! had owned a parrot I \nwould not have let it know. I still had much work to do privately. \nOnce I had disposed of the head, I had to go back with some water \nand deal with our poor desecrated herm. At least the putrescence, \nand the accompanying stink of dead horse, though nauseous, left no \nsuch indelible stain as the streams of blood that had flowed from \nGorgias' dead dog. \nI purified myself then with hasty ablutions and prayers, and I did \nnot feel pure until I had got rid of \nthe clothes I had been wearing while \ncarrying the horse's head. Fortunately, all I had on was a well-worn \nold tunic. But if I been wearing my best fine-woven himation, I \nshould have had to do the same. I threw my tunic away, burying it in \nthe yard where the contents of the chamberpots were thrown, and \nwas content to enter the house naked. The burial place of the tunic \nwas not far from that of the horse - or, rather, the piece of horse \nvouchsafed to me. \nI do not mind admitting that I was conscious offear the whole time. \nNot of apprehension of the task. Though it was revolting to handle \nthat putrescent filth, which filled me with nausea. What I felt beneath \nthe disgust was a far deeper fear - of the underlying message, the \nsignificance of this baleful thing. A curse had come upon my own \nhouse. I felt in all my instincts that this sign was deeply malignant, \nand that not only my house but my family was not safe. \n101 \n\n\nVII \nThe Monument \nWhen the day had fully awakened and the family (kept in blessed \nignorance) were stirring, I considered going to visit Smikrenes in \nEleusis. I decided, however, that I had no time for the journey, as I had \nagreed to attend the setting-up of Aristotle's monument, and must \nkeep my promise. But a plan had begun to form in my mind, and I did \nnot wish to delay. Instead of \nwalking to Eleusis deme, I wrote a careful \nletter to Smikrenes. I first debated with myself \nwhether he were literate \nenough to receive an epistle, but remembering that he had thought he \nmight receive a letter from his estranged wife, I concluded he was up \nto the perusal of a simple message. I hoped so. I presumed Philomela \nhad never learned her letters, but most people think it best for a wife \nto be illiterate. An illiterate father-in-law might prove an incon-\nvenience. Epistles themselves are an inconvenience, as somebody else \nmay read them, and I certainly did not wish to blurt everything out to \nSmikrenes, let alone to someone who (by chance or malice) might \nperuse my written message. I had to be clear yet obscure, eloquent yet \nplain. Eventually it was written to my satisfaction and I sent the \nmessage with the slave who knew the way to Smikrenes' house. The \nslave was quite unable to read - most satisfactory. \n102 \n\n\nTHE MONUMENT \n* \nThe next day - a day engraved for ever on my memory - I went to see \nthe monument to Aristotle's wife put up over her grave. I had not \nbeen looking forward to assisting at this tiresome and melancholy \nceremony. It seemed to me a waste of a morning. Now, especially, \nwhile my own anxieties mounted and when my new plan was \nmaturing, it was irritating to be summoned to this distraction. Yet the \nmonument was evidently of great importance to Aristotle, and if my \npresence there would console and support him, I could not stay away. \nI dressed myself in serious apparel, and walked out to the Lykeion, \nwhere I found Aristotle similarly arrayed, in company with some of \nhis close associates - Theophrastos, of \ncourse, but also Eudemos and \nHipparkhos and the rest. The whole body of \nyoung students did not \naccompany us, but a few of \nthe older youths came, noticeable among \nthem the strange lad Parmenion. I could see that Hipparkhos and \nyoung Mikon were both keeping a close eye on him, and thought \nperhaps the untoward youth had been allowed out on this expedition \nchiefly as a way of exercising some control over him, as well as of \nguiding a mind that tended to wander. We moved together through \nthe city gate towards the Kerameikos where Pythias, lying now \nunnamed in that great cemetery, would henceforth be proudly \nknown. We did not stop at the mason's shed. What we wanted would \nbe brought to us. \nThe Kerameikos was still and drowsy in the hot day. The common \nwhores, male and female, who haunt the area for their nightwork, and \nperform their favours behind the tombs, had disappeared at the \narrival of the clear summer light. The River Eridanos which runs \nthrough the famous cemetery, such a respectable river in wintertime, \nhad dwindled to a trickling sluggish brook. Dragonflies hovered \nabove the stream and moved through the rushes at its brink. On the \ndry paths, our feet sent up puffs of dust. \nWhen we got to the grave site, only a few of Aristotle's friends in \nthe city were present, Gorgias among them. I was surprised to see \n103 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nEpikrates, but assumed that he must have made this gesture of \nrespect out of gratitude to Aristotle. We made a little knot, a \nminiature crowd. \nThen there was a creaking and straining of \na wooden wagon, drawn \nby two oxen, and the masons came into view, as dramatically as they \ncould manage, as if organised for a procession. They were evidently \ndetermined to make a good production of \nthis task. Attendant slaves \nmarched at the side of \nthe cart. With difficulty and straining the men, \nslave and free, drew the large stone down over the ox-cart, its back \ningeniously constructed to drop down and make a ramp. Still masked \nin its drapery, the monument moved along in a stately manner. With \ncrowbars and ropes, and a good number of exclamations, the men \nmoved the stone into position. I saw that a digging had been made in \nthe earth, an oblong hole preparing the place to receive its stone. \nThe ground was bare over the grave - any dampness caused by the \nrainstorm had long vanished. Little whorls of dry dust spun around \nthe site, and drifted over our feet and sandals. When the monument \nwas finally dropped into position, a cloud of dust arose. \n'You know, sir,' said the chief \nmason, addressing Aristotle, 'that it's \nearly days, as I said before, to put a stone up - you want to let the \ngrave settle. We're likely going to have to come back and reposition it \nlater when the ground's sunk better. Stones like this does much better \nwhen what's beneath them has shaken down more solid.' \n'Just so,' said Aristotle. 'As often as necessary. I do not wish the \ngrave to go unmarked any longer.' \nThe monument was adjusted and earth shored around it. We could \nsee tantalising glimpses of \nstone as the cloth swung about it. Sweating \nheavily and muttering imprecations (though they were trying to \nrestrain themselves out of respect to that sad and serious spot of \nearth), the men finally placed the monument to their satisfaction, and \nremoved the ropes that steadied it. We all kept watching steadily - all \nexcept the odd young man Parmenion, who stared vacantly up at the \nsky and yawned. \n104 \n\n\nTHE MONUMENT \n'Now!' said Aristotle. The mason twitched off the covering. The \nmarble monument and the beautiful statue gleamed in the light. The \nbearded man averting his face continued to bid farewell to the seated \nlady, so splendid in her attire with its touches of crimson and gold, \nher blue robe matching the serene blue sky against which she \nglowed. She gazed partly at the man saying farewell to her, and partly \non the thin sheaf of yellow com she held in her hand. Yet in some \nway she appeared to be looking upon us as well, with a divine pity, \nfrom under dark hair. She seemed as one untainted and free, offering \nus the sheaf of wheat she carried as a gift of consolation. There was \na little puff of exclamation from the watchers. 'Beautiful!' 'What \nsplendid work!' \n'Her name is no longer unknown or her grave unmarked,' said \nAristotle. And indeed the name PYTHIAS was very clear and distinct. \nThe monument dignified the site. A bird flew over it, its gentle \nshadow gliding along the marble as if with a secret promise of \nrenewed life and motion. \n'It is lovely,' I said sincerely. \n'This stone worker is an artist,' said Gorgias. \n'It is very good,' said Eudemos, squinting and gazing critically as if \nregarding an object of art in a great house or a temple. 'It vies with \nthe grand monuments of the older times.' \nThe monument indeed did very well among these other \nmonuments of \nAthens, though some of \nthe tombs of \npast centuries in \nthe Kerameikos are extraordinarily impressive, wrought by first-rate \nAthenian sculptors. Near us was another gravestone from the time \nshortly after the era of Perikles, a large marble monument to a \nvirtuous Athenian wife, the lady shown seated, with a maid handing \nher jewellery box to her. \n'I shall often come to see it,' said Aristotle, rather dreamily, looking \nat the Demeter figure on his monument. 'It is good enough even for \nPythias.' \n'The lettering is excellent,' said Hipparkhos. 'Very clear.' It was. \n105 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nThe mason had finished the work and now the full name 'Aristotle \nson ofNikomakhos' could easily be read. \n'It is certainly clear,' said Epikrates. \nAs he said these words, Hypereides came striding towards us. This \nbig confident man, the man to whom smiling came as easily as his \nrhetoric, came up to Aristotle with a grave face of commiseration. \nThe sun shone rosily through his jug-handle ears. \n'My dear friend Aristotle,' he said, 'I compassionate you on your \nloss. These are hard days.' \n'Yes, they are. Thank you,' said Aristotle. \n'So - this is the monument,' said Hypereides thoughtfully. \n'Yes,' said Aristotle again. Speaking not like a great philosopher \nbut as simply as any other man, he added, 'It is a nice monument, \nisn't it?' \n'Ahh - h.' Hypereides sighed. 'My dear Aristotle, that is what I \nhave come to talk with you about. It won't do you know, my dear sir, \nthis won't do at all.' \n'I beg your pardon?' said Aristotle. \nHypereides raised his hand, like an orator calling for silence. This \nwas evidently a prearranged sign. Three men came up whom I had \nnot noticed before that morning. 'You know these gentlemen, I \nbelieve,' Hypereides continued. \n'Megakles of \nAthens - I believe you are known to Aristotle?' \nI recognised Megakles at once, of \ncourse. He was the man with the \nlarge rosy bald spot whom I had first encountered on the day of the \nkilling of the ox. This important gentleman I had also seen in the \nAgora on the day of the monkey. Megakles' growing bald spot had \ndarkened to the colour of \nwood as the summer advanced. But he was \njust as dignified and unsmiling now as on those other two occasions. \nMegakles inclined his head towards Aristotle, but made no further \nacknowledgement. On this occasion, unlike that of \nour meeting in the \nAgora, he took no notice of me. Hypereides went on with the \nintroductions. \n106 \n\n\nTHE MONUMENT \n'And Eurymedon - Athenian of the deme of Eleusis. Eurymedon, \nyou must know Aristotle, is one of the Eumolpidai, and thus most \ndiscerningly jealous of \nthe honour of \nDemeter and her daughter.' \nI had already recognised pious Eurymedon with his face like a \nsculptured mask. \n'And Euphorbos,' continued Hypereides. Lanky, curly-haired \nEuphorbos bowed his head. Usually his face was animated, but today \nhe was unusually quiet and grave. Naturally, out of respect for his \nformer teacher, as well as for the dead and the proprieties of the \noccasion. But what he said was not the usual formula of condolence. \n'I am sorry, Master,' he said in an agitated tone. 'They told me to \ncome. Who could have predicted such a day would ever arrive!' \n'Now,' said Hypereides, 'this is a hard task, my dear sir. I hope that \nyou will make it easier for us, and prevent unpleasantness. I have \nbrought only these men, one of \nthem your friend and former student, \nso that you might be less sore of mind. It \nis the easier for you that we \nare not public officials. We have not brought upon you the head of \nthe Boule and the priest or priestess of Demeter. Indeed, we wished \nearnestly to spare you a large deputation, or any appearance for \nquestioning by the Council, or the Assembly. You would not want a \npublic hearing, a large scene. Consider how ugly that would be: \nAthens in uproar, the common people of \nthe city wrought into anger \nat you. We come to tell you - just us four - that Athens finds this \nerection unacceptable. With the best will in the world towards you, \nwe cannot allow this monument here.' \n, \"Cannot allow -\" 'Aristotle repeated the words as if stupefied. \n'No,' said Megakles. 'This is - I am afraid - most improper. Would \nthat we could have put a stop to it earlier! But the truth of \nthe matter, \nAristotle - and Aristotle's friends -' he nodded at the rest of \nus, 'the \ntruth of the matter is that this monument cannot be permitted to \nstand for a day. You perhaps have misunderstood. The Kerameikos \nis for citizens of \nAthens and the families of \ncitizens. You, Aristotle, are \nnot an Athenian.' \n107 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'You know, Aristotle, you are well aware of this,' added \nHypereides. 'I know you have paid the Alien Tax every year. Eighteen \ndrakhmai - twelve for yourself and six drakhmai for your wife, as both \nwere foreign.' \n'You are a metoikos, among us as an alien, even if resident,' con-\ntinued Megakles. 'Athens tolerates aliens - sometimes mistakenly, I \nbelieve, but that is my opinion. In any case, they do not have the same \nrights as citizens. You are a metoikos, allowed to reside here. You are \nwith us but not of us. So too was your wife, a foreign woman, not of \nAthenian parentage. Your little girl is not a citizen's daughter. I think \nyou have only one child, a female? Your little girl must not expect to \nserve Artemis as a bear at Brauron like little Athenian girls. And your \nwife should not have expected to be buried in the Kerameikos.' \n'Indeed not!' said Eurymedon, speaking to us for the first time that \nmorning, in his cold clear voice. 'From somewhere outlandish, was \nshe not? Some sort of \nAsian person?' \n'She was the daughter of Hermias of Atarneos,' said Aristotle, \ngesturing towards the monument as a text wherein that information \nwas clearly conveyed. 'Hermias was a Greek ruler, a Greek speaker, a \nstudent of Plato and a lover of philosophy -' \n'Very nice, I am sure,' said Hypereides soothingly. 'But she was a \nforeigner as her father was. Hermias would not be allowed a \nmonument in the Kerameikos either.' \n'And did he not die in some disgraceful manner?' added \nEurymedon. 'Stapled to the tympanon like a common criminal, or \nsomething of \nthe sort, so I have heard.' \n'Let us not dig up old stories or unhappy truths,' said Hypereides. \n'The tyrant of \nAtarneos is dead, however his death befell. The point \nat present is that he was not and could not be an Athenian, nor could \nhis daughter be metamorphosed into an Athenian, however legiti-\nmate she might be in Assos or Atarneos. Pythias has no right, strictly \nspeaking, to a grave in the Kerameikos. Certainly no right at all to a \npublic monument - to such a public monument - with an inscription.' \n108 \n\n\nTHE MONUMENT \n'What will Athens come to?' Megakles enquired of us. 'You must \nsee, Athens will cease to be Athens if \nwe allow all and sundry to stick \ntheir monuments and their outlandish names and so on here. We \ncould have Arabs and Phoenicians and all sorts. Once you start that \nsort of thing, there is no going back.' \n'But - we are Greeks!' protested Aristotle. \n'I have a suggestion - if I may presume,' said Euphorbos. 'You \ncould put up any monument to anybody in Peiraieus. They have all \nsorts there now - even Phoenicians and people of Karthago with \nawkward inscriptions in their gibberish, and their triangle goddess! It \nis quite amusing to see them.' \n'Euphorbos speaks beside the point,' said Eurymedon, more coldly \nthan ever. 'We could not countenance this particular monument -\neven in Peiraieus. For, there is further offence in this monument. It is \nthe more dreadful that neither you nor your friends saw at once, as \nyou ought to have done, the offence committed.' Eurymedon drew \nhimself up, like an orator in a prosecution, as he addressed the crowd \nand the circumambient air - almost, one felt, the monument itself. \nNeither he nor Megakles answered Aristotle directly. \n'This - this uncouth thing,' continued Eurymedon, contorting his lips \nwith distaste and chagrin, 'this thing is not only illicit but blasphemous. \nIt is your wife to whom you give divine honour, really as the goddess \nDemeter. Blasphemous honour. You have committed blasphemy!' \n'But no!' protested Aristotle. 'There is a reference to her worship \nof Demeter -' \n'Just so,' said Eurymedon. 'As a member of the tribe of \nEumolpidai, guardians of the sacred rites of Eleusis and all that \npertains to Demeter, I must see to it that the religion of Eleusis is \nrespected, as it always is in Athens. This figure is a travesty, a \nmockery of \nDemeter, executed at your command.' \n'No, no!' cried Eudemos in protest. He was ignored. \n'Surely mockery is the wrong word,' said Euphorbos. He was \nignored likewise. \n109 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nGorgias said, 'It looks proper to me, and I and my family work with \nimages of \nthe gods.' \n'We feel no need to call upon silversmiths to testify about \nDemeter,' said Eurymedon icily. 'We of \nthe clan of \nEumolpus guard \nher sacred image from all profanation. But if you need more \nclarification, let me summon a witness.' \nThe priestly Eurymedon moved his hand slightly. To our \namazement, from behind the large monument to the virtuous \nAthenian lady there strolled the woman Antigone. She was \nmodestly dressed, and had a diaphanous veil over her face, but her \nsandals were of reddened leather and a large gold bracelet shone \nupon her hand. \n'This person - this female -' said Eurymedon, 'can tell you more.' \nAntigone stood still as if abashed. 'Come,' said he, 'state clearly who \nyou are.' \n'My name is Antigone - and I am a prostitute of Athens.' \n'Come, now,' said Hypereides. 'No need to be frightened, \nAntigone. We know you are an hetaira. But tell these people again \nwhat you told me you overheard when you were in Aristotle's house.' \nThe woman parted her veil slightly, so the voice coming through \nher pretty lips could be heard by us. \n'I heard him say - I don't wish to get anyone in trouble, gentlemen. \nBut I heard him say - to another gentleman - that he loved his wife \nas Demeter.' \n'There! Did you ever hear the like? This is blasphemy - flat \nblasphemy.' Eurymedon, now animated and triumphant, his great \neyes shining, turned to the little knot of \nmen. 'This man worships his \nwife as Demeter.' \n'Though he uses whores,' said Megakles, in a low voice but with \nsatisfaction. \n'No!' I cried. '/ was the gentleman who was present, on that day \nwhen this - this woman came into the room. That was the only \noccasion on which she visited Aristotle. She did not come to him to \n110 \n\n\nTHE MONUMENT \noffer whorish favours, nor had he invited her. She came only to talk \nabout her legal affairs. And Aristotle said no such thing as she alleges! \nHe said his wife - she was still alive on that day, gentlemen - loved \nDemeter. He said Pythias was devoted to this goddess, and that he \nloved his wife. And he was talking to me, not to this woman.' \n'And that was all?' asked Eurymedon. \n'By all the gods, I swear there was nothing in the least improper \nabout what he said. An ugly business if the chance word of a harlot \nshould be taken in condemnation! A harlot who - even if she weren't \nlying - could hardly know what a conversation could be about, when \nshe wasn't party to it. It is hard if such as she may spread such \nridiculous untruths about Aristotle, whom we know so well.' \n'Gentlemen,' said Aristotle earnestly. 'You cannot for a moment \nseriously think that I would be so blind and stupid as to think that my \nwife, a mortal woman, was an immortal goddess? Look you, here on \nthe monument.' He gestured to the text again, and we all looked at it. \n'Now, clearly, this inscription says Pythias \"lived and died\". She is \ncertainly not an immortal, not a divinity, but human. Nowhere do I \nindicate otherwise.' \n'Well, well,' said Hypereides. 'We will let pass for the while the \nstatement of this hetaira Antigone. We have the greatest respect for \nyou, Aristotle. You may step back, woman. The chief problem at \npresent lies with the monument itself.' \n'The monument itself makes his wife look like Demeter,' said \nEurymedon stubbornly. 'No one has ever seen anything like it!' \n'That's right,' said Megakles. 'A woman should be presented \nholding some household object, or her jewellery box, perhaps, even a \nmirror - something suitable to her feminine weakness and to her \nmodesty also.' \n'This - this objectionable female holds the emblem of \nthe blessed \ngoddess!' said Eurymedon in a tone of \nrising indignation. 'And then \nthere's this long pompous inscription, going on about himself - a \nforeigner. And saying that his wife, a mere woman, has the divine \nIII \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nintellect or whatever nonsense he means. As for her being \"much \nloved\", nobody here knew her, as she was related to nobody at all.' \n'Yes,' said Hypereides, 'I'm afraid that is certainly true, one must \nadmit it.' \n'In fact,' said Megakles, with fearless relish, 'one must admit that \n\"Here lies an obscure foreign woman whom no Athenian knew or \ncared about\" would be a more honest inscription.' \n'Perhaps,' Euphorbos suggested, 'it would do us good to have a \ngreater variety of inscriptions. Frank statements on tombstones \nwould certainly enliven the Kerameikos. Even make the pious \nEumolpidai more interesting!' He darted a mischievous glance at the \nstately Eurymedon. \n'But this woman cannot be interred in the Kerameikos,' said \nMegakles firmly. 'Whatever the inscription,' he added. \n'Gentlemen,' Hypereides pleaded. 'Let there be no unpleasant-\nness. Nothing unseemly. We come not to insult over living or dead, \nbut only to defend our city and its ways.' He laid his hand caressingly \non Aristotle's arm. 'I am deeply sorry, my good sir, but you must be \nwise enough yourself to see how it must end. Nobody wishes to be \nunjust, or harsh even in demanding justice. We will, in a particular \nleniency, allow Pythias' remains to rest here. Nobody asks you to \ndisturb her bones. That is generosity itself, surely! But . . . this \nmonument cannot be allowed to stand.' \n'This monument?' \n'Nor any other. When this thing goes away, put no other up in its \nstead. I am sorry you have been put to unnecessary expense. It is \nagainst our city's customs to honour foreigners in this manner.' \n'And the sacred identity of the city and its religion should not be \nsoiled by foreign blasphemy,' added Eurymedon. \n'This monument must go!' said Megakles. \n'There is no help for it,' said Hypereides gently. 'The monument \nmust go. You do see that, Aristotle.' \n'Yes, I suppose that -' \n112 \n\n\nTHE MONUMENT \n'Excellent!' Hypereides patted his shoulder. 'I am sorry to give you \npain, 0 Aristotle, but 1 am very glad that you see reason. You hear, \ngentleman? Aristotle now understands, and gives consent. He agrees \nthe monument must go. Good-day, Aristotle - and to your friends.' \nHypereides then detached himself, and rapidly moved away with \nbig swinging strides despite his sixty years. Epikrates waved his hand, \nin what must have been another signal. As Hypereides strode away \nfrom the scene, another group approached: a gang of \nslaves under the \ncommand of a working foreman. They must have been nearby all the \nwhile, but if so they had been very quiet. Now these men advanced \ntowards the stone like an armed phalanx, each carrying a crowbar and \na large mallet, the kind men use in banging down paving stones. \nSome of these mallets were simply made of a huge hard stone firmly \nfastened to a handle. \n'Good!' said Megakles. 'You are ready? Now!' \nThe first of \nthe workmen lifted his mallet and struck the monument \na heavy blow. The mallet bounced off \nthe marble, taking with it a chip \nfrom the inscription. \n'Oh!' cried Aristotle - involuntarily, once, as a man might cry out \nunder torture with a terrible surprise before commanding himself to \nbe silent. 1 thought at the time that it was the sound a man would \nmake who was fatally stabbed - though later 1 was to know better. \nEuphorbos said drily, 'Well thrown!' as if he were a spectator at the \ngames; he then stood watching the proceedings and the other \nwatchers. Megakles looked at Aristotle with disdain while \nEurymedon's eager large eyes followed the fate of the monument, \nmost particularly of its statue. The workmen once set going paid no \nheed to any of us. They struck again, and again, multiple blows. \nAristotle was pale, his face set. It was as if he himself, or something \ninside him, were being battered. After that first involuntary outcry he \nwas silent, his face taking on a mask-like sternness. He held himself \nerect but 1 could feel him trembling slightly as 1 held his arm. 'We can \ndo nothing,' 1 whispered to him. 1 was sure of \nthat. \n113 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nEpikrates giggled in his low-bred way as the hammering went on. \nAll the other spectators stood still as if \nenchanted. The only exception \nwas the strange boy Parmenion, who at the first blow had uttered a \nloud cry or howl - almost covering Aristotle's own exclamation. The \nyouth then threw himself face down upon the ground and remained \nabsolutely still, not swooning, but as if removing himself from the \nscene. The rest of us, however unwilling, continued watching as the \nmen swung and swung, heavy blow after heavy blow cracking down on \nthe monument. The stone mallets did the most damage - deep gouges \nand chipping resulted. Bang! went one mallet and another would \nfollow. Crash! It was hard to imagine that Pythias in her earthen bed \nbelow did not feel the assault. Hammers of \nwood and stone and thick \nrods of metal struck the monument as if they hated it, and were glad \nto destroy what was also inanimate but lovelier than they. \nThe inscription had been largely defaced by the time the men took \ntheir crowbars and lowered the monument - not to the ground, but \nholding it slantwise so that they could hit the statue while it was still \nerect. Many of their blows struck the bearded man, who at once lost \nhis beard and a hand, but they aimed chiefly at the monument's vivid \nlady. Blows rained on the body of \nthe lady who looked like Demeter. \nThe top of her sheaf of wheat flew off and hit the ground. Arms and \nfragments of garment turned into hail and flew about in the air. At \nlast her head was struck off, and fell upon the earth where it bounced \nvery slightly, and lay still. The crown of gold was still visible on the \nragged hair. She looked up at us as if in enquiry. Then the paviour's \nhammer struck at the face, with one blow, crushing the nose and \nrendering the features indistinct. \n'Thus perishes the false image,' said Eurymedon, clearly but not \nloudly. \nAlthough it was hard work, it had not taken the workmen long to \ndo this damage to Aristotle's monument. Once the inscription was \ndefaced and the image of the goddess gone, Eurymedon and \nMegakles seemed to relax slightly. \n114 \n\n\nTHE MONUMENT \n'Come up, boys, with the wagon, and take the rest away,' said \nMegakles eventually. \nThe workmen brought up a wagon, very like the first one, and by \ntugging and straining with ropes and crowbars got the dishonoured \nremnants of monument aboard. Slowly they went away from the \nKerameikos. Pythias' grave was bare earth again, but bare earth with \nmuch trampling upon it, churned up and littered with chips of \nmarble. Even now, an after-image of \nthe monument and its lady - or \ngoddess - seemed to hang in the empty space. A shadowy film or \neidolon, with her sheaf of golden wheat and blue robe and the sweet \ndivine face. \n'Aristotle, we must go home,' said Theophrastos. Hipparkhos and \nEudemos picked up the strange boy Parmenion and managed to get \nhim to walk between them. His eyes were vacant as though he chose \nnot to see anything in particular. His lot at that moment seemed \neasier than that of \nAristotle, who was fully in his senses as he walked \nbetween the sorrowing Theophrastos and myself. We who were his \nfriends were sad - dismayed - frightened - angry - but of \nthe feelings \nof Aristotle in that hour I realise I can have only the faintest \nconception. \n115 \n\n\n\n\nVIII \n==::;:9_P\nIlo:..:= \na'-'G\" \nPreparing for Flight \nWe went wearily through the city gate and walked in the hot midday \nacross Athens towards the blessed coolness of \nthe Ilissos area with its \ntrees and refreshing shade. As we came to Aristotle's house I think all \nof us were looking forward to the relief of having a door to close \nbehind us. Shelter for anger, bewilderment and shame - we longed \nalmost with the intensity of \na physical thirst for the place in which we \ncould securely rest, give voice to what we felt, and recruit our \nshattered spirits. \nBut it \nwas not to be easy to recruit shattered spirits. As we came to \nthe gate of \nAristotle's house we saw that the entryway was barred by \ndefilement. Sprawled upon the herm, as if it had come expressly to \nlounge the day away on this pillar, was a ridiculous long-limbed hairy \nbeing that looked heart-stoppingly at first glance like a man. \nTheophrastos was the first to hasten bravely towards the grim sight. \n'It's not a man - it's a monkey,' he announced. \nWe gathered about it. It certainly was a monkey, very fully \ndisplayed, supine, showing his genitals for the world to see. His virile \nmember, propped up in imitative mockery of the priapic symbol, \nvastly outbraved in length and circumference the stony penis depicted \n119 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \non the herm. The monkey's little face was twisted into a frightful grin. \nPerhaps someone had also arranged that rictus, posthumously. \n'Stunned on the head, I think,' said Eudemos, walking to the back \nof the herm. \n'Killed by a blow of an axe, most likely. Splitting the \nskull.' \nThe flies busy with the skull, which had exuded some sticky matter, \nseemed to corroborate this diagnosis. \n'It is a monkey,' Theophrastos repeated. 'Not just any monkey. \nKallias'monkey.' \n'Yes.' I recognised it. 'Though its gold chain has been taken off. \nPerhaps whoever did this did not want to be accused of theft of \nvaluables. ' \n'The monkey was valuable in itself - costly. Who is going to tell \nKallias?' asked Hipparkhos, with a groan. 'And how are we to clean \nand purify this place?' \nThe monkey grinned and gave no answer to these questions, \nthough it looked curiously knowing. 'If \nonly it could tell us who did \nthis,' said Eudemos. 'Poor thing,' he added. \nAristotle stared at the dead creature. 'You see the inscription?' he \nsaid, pointing to the base of the herm. To it had been attached a \nlarge clay tablet, crudely incised with a nail or some such utensil to \noffer the following inscription which he slowly read aloud: \n, \"Eminent for Virtue \nGiven to all good works \nMuch loved.\" \n'That is a parody ofPythias' inscription! How could they even have \nknown it?' He gazed as one fascinated by the whole spectacle: the \nsprawling lewd monkey, the herm shaft with its new if temporary \ninscription. 'Look, the monkey is a mockery - a blasphemy - of \nPythias. Or - it is meant for me. Is it a taunt only, I wonder? Or also \na - a warning?' He swayed a little where he stood. \n120 \n\n\nPREPARING FOR FLIGHT \n'Come,' said Theophrastos; seizing Aristotle by the elbow, though \nin no unfriendly grip, he guided the Master to the back of \nthe house. \n'Water -\nget water for washing,' he ordered. 'Eudemos and \nHipparkhos, take care of this - this mess. Demetrios, prepare the \nritual purification, and see that the boys make proper ablutions before \nthey go back indoors. Stephanos, come with us.' \n'You should go away,' said Theophrastos. Those were the first words \nuttered on our sad return to Aristotle's pleasant room with the books \nand writing desk and familiar furnishings. We had all undergone \nritual ablutions and cleansing, but that could not remove the images \nfrom our mind. Aristotle sank wearily into a chair. He was pale, his \nface set. \n'You look ill.' I was really concerned. 'Take some wine and water.' \nTheophrastos had anticipated me, pouring some drink into a beaker. \nHe thrust it awkwardly at Aristotle, who meekly took it and sipped. \nHe stared straight ahead for a while, without speaking. Whatever he \nthought about Pythias, and the monument, and the dreadful \nmonkey, he communed inwardly with his heart. He was not pre-\npared to speak with us about the scene we had just witnessed in the \nKerameikos. \n'I shall do very well,' he said at length. 'Don't look so distressed, \nStephanos. That blasphemous dead animal - you both say it belongs \nto Kallias? A difficult business telling him. Will he want to see it?' \n'He will probably want it back,' said Theophrastos. 'To bury in his \nback garden. He has funerals - burials, at least - for his pets, I \nunderstand. But we must admit, this is a valuable animal. I shall send \na messenger, and also give orders that the monkey is to be wrapped \nup in a blanket meanwhile. After the slaves have worked on the herm, \nit will be merely a matter of \nritual form to purify it again.' \n'There isn't much blood on it.' I produced this feeble consolation. \n'It's strange,' I added, 'this is really the first time they have risked \nkilling a valuable animal. Otherwise, it's like the others. After all, a \n121 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nnumber of people have had a similar experience this summer. Like \nAlkibiades and the Mutilation of the Herms.' \n'Really?' said Aristotle. 'I didn't know. I used to know everything,' \nhe said with a sigh. It was very unlike Aristotle. Painful to see him as \nthis tight-lipped sighing man, leaning back in his chair. \n'Yes. Some people don't much want to talk about it, but you \nshould know.' I explained about Gorgias and Eutikleides, and some \nof the others. I didn't present my own case and the unwanted gift of \nthe horse's head. Aristotle listened intently. \n'This is very bad.' He was silent again, brooding. 'Athens is in an \nedgy state, I fear. I worry most immediately about that poor lad \nParmenion. He has received a succession of shocks. Please instruct \nPhokon to enquire after his health, and to tell Demetrios that a doctor \nshould be sent for if necessary. If the boy seems conscious and \nsomewhat normal, feed him some hydromel; the water quenches \nthirst and the honey is a sweet food.' \nWhile Theophrastos summoned Phokon and bade him do as the \nMaster said, Aristotle closed his eyes as if meditating. We sat with \nhim for a while, in complete silence. He opened his eyes, and I could \ntell that he had been going through the scene at the cemetery. \n\"'This woman cannot be interred in the Kerameikos,'\" \nhe \nrepeated. 'Metoikos - abominable foreigner. Oh, Pythias, what have I \ndone! And I thought to give her a lovely monument -' \n'How could they take it on themselves to destroy it like that?' I \nbegan heatedly. 'It was yours - you paid for it. I am not sure at all that \nwhat they did was legal - ' \n'It probably was not strictly legal,' Theophrastos interposed. 'But \nthey did it, all the same. And any legal remedy they resorted to might \nhave been even worse for us. Hypereides was not wrong about that.' \n'You are right, Theophrastos,' Aristotle said. 'You are always cool \nand steady in judgement. And you are right also in saying I should go \naway. It would be better for both Athens and myself if! were out of \nthe city for a while. I believe I must plan an excursion.' \n122 \n\n\nPREPARING FOR FLIGHT \n'I am planning to go away myself,' 1 said. 'As you know, 1 have been \nthinking of \ngoing to seek someone, in point of \nfact -' \n'The near male relation of the woman you think of marrying,' \nAristotle snatched my sentence from me. 'Very well, we have heard of \nthis. You are going eastward?' \n'To the eastern islands.' \n'Theophrastos,' said Aristotle, 'just look into the passage, would \nyou and see if anyone is waiting to see me?' \nTheophrastos threw open the door, and looked about. 'Nobody \nwaits,' he said. 'Nobody listens.' He closed the door firmly. \n'I intend,' 1 said, 'as you know, and as Eudemos and the others \nknow, to go to Rhodos to look for a man from Hymettos. 1 will get \nsome financial assistance for this venture, so 1 can just about manage \nit. And 1 am also going to take extra care of my own family, and see \nthat they are very safely lodged during the time 1 am away - for that \nmay be some while.' \n'You are well advised to do so,' said Aristotle. 'I also have a good \nreason to go abroad for a time, Stephanos. Fortunately, 1 can give \nsome respectable cover to my desire to flee. The young man \nParmenion. We have long been thinking that we should try to return \nhim to his people, have we not?' \n'Yes,' said Theophrastos. 'You can see that his health is not good. \n1 fear his mind is deeply affected.' \n'One of us should really escort him,' said Aristotle. 'The boy is not \nfit to travel on his own or even with some group, like other young men. \nA friend should convey him to his home. What better friend than I? \nReasonable -\nand opportune. Unfortunately, Theophrastos, that \nleaves you in charge, and 1 hope that does not subject you to undue \nrisk. But it seems to me the brunt of \ntheir animosity falls on myself.' \n'Yes. 1 certainly believe so,' said Theophrastos.' You must remem-\nber, however, that 1 am myself a metoikos.' \n'I know that,' exclaimed Aristotle. 'Who better?' 1 felt slightly \nsurprised at this open admission. 1 must always have known or at least \n123 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nsuspected that Theophrastos was a foreigner, but I tended to forget \nit. Nobody more ardently desired to be accepted as an Athenian. He \nspoke his Attic Greek most precisely, and pored over Plato day and \nnight. \n'Yes,' said Theophrastos, interpreting my speaking face, although \nI was silent. 'It is true, Stephanos. You are the only real Athenian in \nthe room at present. I was born in Lesbos. I feel Athenian, but that's \nnot quite the same thing.' \n'Lesbos! So far away.' \n'Yes, Theophrastos was born in Eressos, just like Sappho,' said \nAristotle. 'He doesn't seem much like lyric Sappho, does he? Nor is \nhe the son of an Athenian. And thus he is a metoikos, as I am.' \n'I am not in any great favour,' said Theophrastos. 'I believe, \nhowever, that I am not very important, and that it is you whom they \nresent.' \n'I think so too,' said Aristotle. 'Which makes what I am about to \nsay to Stephanos the more shameless. Stephanos, might we join \nforces? Or do you think that would be dangerous for you? The idea \nhas crossed my mind before, I will confess. I should be going to an \narea very close to where you are going yourself. I am fairly used to \ntravel across the Aegean. You have never been in a ship, I think?' \nI hesitated. 'Are you sure you are well enough - in your spirits - for \nthis style of \nexpedition?' I asked because I felt in my secret heart that \nI could not endure daily to accompany a man so bowed down with \ngrief. Aristotle understood me. \n'Do not be anxious, Stephanos. A well-bred man - not to say a \nphilosopher -\ndoes not inflict his emotions upon his friends. \nFortitude - fortitude and self-restraint - will come to my aid. Perhaps \nI may be better for a change of \nscene. I have sufficient funds to make \ntravel easier for both of us. And I know some men of importance \nalong the way, who may give us lodging and ease our journey. But you \ncould help me in tum. I shall need some assistance in caring for that \nyoung man, Parmenion. A great responsibility.' \n124 \n\n\nPREPARING FOR FLIGHT \nI was deliberating, when he said impetuously, 'Normally, this \nwould be delightful, but given the circumstances - the animosity \ndirected against me - it is only fair to admit that I might be a \nhazardous companion.' \n'I would be happy to travel with you,' I said. And I meant it. As he \nspoke I realised how anxious I had been feeling about making this \nvoyage into the unknown without a companion. It \nwould mean going \nacross wild and dangerous waters, into regions of which I knew \nnothing. \n'I will risk any danger in your companionship,' I added. 'Once we \nare out of Athens they won't bother us. A good idea, for you to go \naway. And send your little daughter away also.' \n'I have already planned to do so,' said Aristotle gravely. 'How glad \nI am too that I didn't have little Pythias represented as one of the \nmourners on that monument. \n' We all thought for a moment of the \nrepulsive idea of \nhammers hitting his child - even if only in effigy. \n'Fortunately,' he continued, 'she will be well out of Athens very \nsoon. I am sending her to Euboia - to my mother's country. We have \nan estate there. The child will be looked after, in the care ofHerpyllis.' \n'I too already have a plan for my family's safety,' I explained. 'I \nwrote to Smikrenes, the father of the girl I am to marry, you know. \nWrote to him asking, in effect, if \nmy family could stay with him while \nI went in pursuit of his wife's brother. It is a good deal to ask, and I \nstill await his answer. But if \nit is possible, I shall pack my mother and \nbrother off \nto his house before I leave.' \n'So you are getting married, Stephanos?' said Theophrastos in \nsurprise. 'I didn't know. Not to the daughter of the rich citizen \nKallimakhos?' \n'No such thing,' I said, not pleased to be reminded of the old \narrangement that had fallen through. 'That is back in the past. But \nyou see the beauty of my plan. Nobody - not even at present my \nmother - nobody who dwells within the walls of \nthis city knows of \nmy \nplan to marry Smikrenes' daughter - save Aristotle.' \n125 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'If \nI can be said to be within the walls, when I live outside them.' \n'Very well. Smikrenes knows, and so does his wife and her family -\nbut they live a rather isolated life in Hymettos, where I think they \nhang aloof from their neighbours, so they are unlikely to have much \nchance to spread it. I may drop them a hint of \nsilence, however. But \nit seems unlikely that anyone in this city could know of \nmy connection \nwith Smikrenes, or would ever suspect that any of our family were \nthere. And my mother and brother can be safe while I am away.' \n'So you were already anxious enough to write to Smikrenes before \n- before today?' Aristotle, however greatly assailed by the morning's \nevents, was still alert and shrewd. 'You had, then, some reason to fear \ndanger before now? What was it? What happened?' \nI had to explain then about the horse's head. I also expounded my \ntheory that the series of outrages seemed to me to be conducted \nagainst supporters of \nMakedon, or those regarded as such. \n'Dear, dear. Stephanos, I fear the only reason for your being \nregarded as a Makedonian supporter is your association with myself.' \n'Well -\nmy cousin Philemon fought in Alexander's army,' I \nreminded him. 'They - whoever they may be - have targeted a \nnumber of people. Perhaps I am too fearful where my family is \nconcerned. Probably this is the work of a few louts, egged on by a \ncouple of \ndiscontented citizens. Just the same, I would like to get my \nfamily out of the way. It is wrong to leave a house in the care of an \nunprotected woman like my mother. It won't seem too odd that they \nshould have gone away when I am travelling. But I think I won't say \nmuch about my destination. I had rather people here in Athens - if \nthey find out that I am away - think that I am going to one of the \nnearer islands and may come back fairly soon.' \nAfter I talked it over with Aristotle and Theophrastos, this plan \nseemed just as good as I had thought it was. In fact, it \nbecame clearer \nand better as Aristotle quickly came to practicalities about hiring \npassage on a ship, and so on. We cheered up slightly during this \ndiscussion of the future; after we took wine together, the journey \n126 \n\n\nPREPARING FOR FliGHT \nseemed certain. When I went home, however, I felt sneaky and low, \nbecause I was harbouring a scheme destructive to my mother's peace \nwithout her knowledge. I had decided I would tell her as soon as I \nheard from my prospective father-in-law, ifhis reply were favourable. \nThat interview with Mother I did not look forward to with pleasure. \nMy mother, Eunike, is a daughter of \nthe true Erektheids, and they are \na formidable tribe. (Some say that at the beginning the founder was \nnurtured by - even entwined with - snakes.) Mother was unlikely to \nlook upon my news with any great approbation. \nI did not have long to wait. In the evening the slave came back with \na message from Smikrenes, though not with a letter. \n'I saw the gentleman Smikrenes as you directed,' he said. 'I gave \nthe letter to him personal. And he read it and kept me there, and they \ngave me food and overnight lodging, and sent me back early today. \nHe told me he would have no letter to give to you, but only a word \nthat I was to remember. He said as how I could remember \"Yes\" was \nthe word, and \"Welcome\", and I was certain sure I could remember \nthat.' \nSo here was the keystone to my plan for getting away - a keystone \nsafely cut and ready. I had only to attend to the details. The first and \nmost formidable of \nthese details was telling my mother. This meant I \nfirst had to tell her of my intention to marry Smikrenes' daughter \nPhilomela, and my engagement with Smikrenes. This was bad \nenough. She burst into tears and lamentations almost at once. \n'Oh no! Stephanos, how could you! A small and unimportant man \n- one can tell by his horrible little name! Some little country place in \nEleusis, and some thick-skinned old farmer's clumsy daughter - how \ncould you? Oh, my child, you're throwing yourself \naway. Oh, my poor \nboy why didn't you tell me? Surely you can get out of \nthis!' \n'I didn't tell you at first because it wasn't certain,' I protested. 'And \nit went on, so now it is certain We will have the formal engye after the \nsummer is over. I don't want to get out of \nit.' \n'Why didn't you tell someone who could have given you good \n127 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF UFE \nadvice? Oh, Stephanos, you don't hold yourself of enough account. \nPoor boy, you are not bad-looking and certainly well-born. And \nmanly and good - and educated too. If \nyou had only tried hard \nenough you could have married the daughter of some wealthy and \nimportant man.' \nShe sat down heavily, and rocked to and fro in her grief. 'Oh, dear, \noh dear! You keep company with foreigners too much, and don't pay \nattention to your own interests in Athens. There was no need to go \ninto some muddy little village in the wilds to find a wife! And you \nneedn't tell me her father is well-born and educated and rich and \npolite and delightful, for I cannot believe it!' \n'He is well-born enough, a true Athenian citizen. He has a little \nmoney and his own land,' I responded. 'I won't tell you he is all those \nother things, because it is true, they're not appropriate. But think -\nhis wife has a family in Hymettos, who are doing well, and her brother \nmay be able to help us to some more money. But I have to go and fmd \nhim first. He may be in Rho- I mean on one of \nthe islands, so I am \ngoing on a journey to find him.' \n'So restless, Stephanos. I cannot understand it. Always wandering. \nIsn't Athens good enough for you? You're like your cousin Philemon, \npoor boy, rushing off \nto Asia with Alexander, as if \nthere were any need \nfor him to go and get killed - or nearly - away from home. All this \nwandering and restlessness explains the bad marriages in our family. \nLook what a horrible marriage Philemon has made with that \nwretched girl from Thebes, a foreigner who came to Athens with \nscarcely the clothes she stood up in.' \n'She isn't a foreigner,' I interjected, for it would be very bad for \nPhilemon and his children if this impression were allowed to gain \nground. 'She came from Thebes, but she is true Athenian-' \nBut my mother's speech ran in too rapid a current for her to hear \nme. \n'You go wandering off to Delphi in the spring with your old \nphilosopher - for no possible reason or advantage - and now you tell \n128 \n\n\nPREPARING FOR FLIGHT \nme that you're going to some island to look for a man you don't \nknow. It makes my head spin!' \n'Yes, yes, Mother, but there is some advantage in this journey,' I \nsaid. 'And don't forget, my first long journey to Euboia saved \nPhilemon's life, and the honour of the family. But whether you like it \nor not, I am afraid I must go. And that leads me to my second point \n- or third, perhaps.' \n'Don't maunder on in that unfeeling way,' she said sharply. 'Who \ncares if it's your second or thirty-second point! Why will you lecture \nand preach on at your wretched mother?' I gathered my forces. \n'While I am away,' I explained, 'away on a journey I need to take \nand am determined to take, you and my brother Theodoros and two \nof the slaves must leave this house and stay with Smikrenes.' \nAt this she was truly aghast. 'Oh, no, Stephanos - not my home! \nDon't take that away! Don't ask it of \nme!' \n'Only for a little while. It is for your own safety and protection. I \ncannot leave you without a man in the house, or in a house without a \nman, for so long. Smikrenes can take care of \nyou both.' \n'Care! In a little muddy hut with a lot of smoke, and chickens \nrunning around the floor, I dare say, and nothing comfortable and \nnone of my own things about me. And he'll turn Theodoros into a \nlittle drudge - his sort do that. And no neighbours to talk with. Oh no \n- oh no! Who would have thought my son would have brought me to \nthis pass!' Tears coursed down her cheeks. 'Oh, Nikiarkhos, why did \nyou die and leave me to the care of \nthis unkind son?' \n'I am not an unkind son,' I protested. 'I try to be a good son to you, \nMother, but I am afraid that you and Theodoros cannot stay here \nalone while I am away. And that's final.' \nThis last phrase (one I remember my father was fond of) I did not \ncare much for myself, but I found myself \nsaying it. I left the room with \ndignity, leaving her to get over her weeping. The female slave came to \nher, looking at me as reproachfully as if I had proposed pulling the \nhouse down about all their ears. Theodoros, predictably, was easier \n129 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nto handle, but even he was at first quick to see the disadvantages -\nespecially being parted from his best friend Euphranor. His was a \nhopeful disposition, however, and he was soon able to look forward \nto making a journey to the country and having some different places \nto explore. \nThe next few days were full of business, as I tried to provide for \nboth myself and my family during my journey time. I kept a sharp eye \non Mother so that she didn't gossip to the neighbours about our \nplans. The slaves also had to be told, but I didn't tell them precisely \nwhere they were going - they would find out in due time. I went to \nour family farm to see old Tamia and the even frailer Dametas, in \norder to arrange for them to give regular supplies of our produce to \nthe house slaves who would be going to stay with my mother. I hoped \nwe could pay our way, really, by dint of bringing some of our own \nutensils and adding regularly to the food supplies at Smikrenes' \nmodest establishment. I did not want to be an undue burden. Both \nslaves were to go together from Eleusis to the farm whenever my \nfamily needed anything; the male slave was agreeable enough to \nwalking and porterage but had a tendency to lose his grip on \ninformation, and to dally by the way, whereas the woman was no \ndallier and nimble enough in her wits, though not as good at carrying \nthings. Once we got to the Eleusis area, I wished her not to tell other \npeople precisely of our new location. \nIt was an unusual thing to be doing, sending my mother to live in \nanother man's household, and that man not a relative. But I had no \nmale relative save my cousin Philemon, who was so talkative and \ncareless. Besides, he lived in a small house in town, and thus any \nvisitors would be subject to the scrutiny of \nneighbours, and Philemon \nwith his peculiar history and strange marriage was already sufficiently \nsuspect. No, it had to be Smikrenes. But as we were not yet \nconnected with this man, I ought to take special precautions for the \nreputation of \nmy mother. \n'Be sure you stay in the women's part of \nthe house and do not stir \n130 \n\n\nPREPARING FOR FLIGHT \nexcept at proper times and with a female companion,' I warned her. \n'As if! didn't know more of \nbehaviour than you do, Stephanos! Oh, \nmy child, why do you use me so? Casting me out of my own house. \nI'm sure I could denounce you before the Assembly or somewhere for \ncruelty to your parents - there's a penalty in law for that -' \n'Yes there is. It is loss of citizenship. And if I were not a citizen of \nAthens a fine pickle we should all be in,' I retorted. 'Make the best of \nit, Mother. I think of you and Theodoros and your welfare always. \nNow, I am going to take Theodoros with me for a while on a little \nexpedition. We are going to get a dog to add to your safety.' \nI kissed her but she was only partly mollified. Theodoros, however, \nwas in high spirits at the prospect of accompanying me to get a new \ndog and then taking the animal to Smikrenes' house. I took a slave as \nwell, and a donkey so that Theodoros could ride in case his legs got \ntired on the way back from Eleusis. The house to which we were \ngoing first, the home of \none of \nPhilemon's friends, was in the western \noutskirts of Athens. Philemon, who had told me this man had high-\nquality dogs for sale, came with Theodoros and myself to see them. \nWe knew there were dogs by the din of barking set up on our \napproach. When we went into the yard, the bitch and her sons set up \na great racket. The owner brought us a young dog, barely out of \npuppyhood; it first dashed at us barking as ifhe would like to have our \nheads, then ran about the yard in a fury of \nzeal. \nWe stood, our little party of \nPhilemon, Theodoros, myself and the \nslave, surveying the creature. The youthful dog at its master's bidding \neventually stopped running round in circles, and sat down. It \nlooked \nat us, and put its tongue out. \n'Big, but a well-shaped muzzle,' said Philemon critically. \n'Oh, he is so nice!' said Theodoros. 'Handsome and large.' \n'He is surely large for a hound, isn't he?' I asked. 'He is still not full \ngrown - look how large his paws are.' \n'Well, this sort of dog is bred for strength as well as speed. When \nhe wants something he goes for it, and doesn't let go. You should see \n131 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \none go after a rabbit! He'll pretty well feed himself, ifhe's allowed to \nhunt. And they're wonderful as watch-dogs. You see how they bark \nat the approach of a stranger.' . \n'An unusual animal,' I said critically, trying to look as if I under-\nstood the minutest points of canine breeds. \n'He is that,' said the owner. 'He's a Molossian hound. I mean \nreally, a true Molossian; his father is from Molossos, and his mother \ntoo.' \n'Molossos?' exclaimed Theodoros, laughing. 'What a funny name!' \n'It's not funny, it's the name of a place way out West,' the owner \nsaid. \n'That's right,' said Philemon. 'Olympia, Alexander's mother, \ncomes from there. They go in for snake-handling in Molossos - part \nof \ntheir religion. Weird people, but great dogs.' \n'They're rare in Athens,' continued the owner, refusing to be \ndistracted by snakes. 'Rare and valuable. Real Molossian hounds. \nFrankly, I would charge more if you weren't a cousin of Philemon. \nAnd the bitch had a large litter, and our home isn't best suited to \nkeeping them all.' \nI paid this dog-breeder what he asked, to Philemon's satisfaction. \n(It was a moot point if \nPhilemon had arranged the dog-buying for our \nbenefit, or that of his friend.) The man sent his slave for a piece of \nleather to make a collar, and a stout rope to tie our hound with. We \ncouldn't trust him not to run off. Meanwhile, we needed to make \nourselves known to the animal. \n'Theodoros, you are really going to be this dog's master,' I said. \n'Since I will be away, and the dog must obey someone, this will be \nyour dog.' \nTheodoros' face lighted up. 'I must call him by name,' he said. \n'What is his name?' \n'Doesn't have one. We call him \"the second pup\".' \nTheodoros knelt beside the animal and put his arm around its \nneck. 'I will give you a name,' he said. 'I will call you \"Molossos\" and \n132 \n\n\nPREPARING FOR FLIGHT \nsince your father was of Molossos, we will pretend his name was \n\"Molossos\" too. You are the son of \nMolossos. Molossos Molossou.' \nThe dog cocked his head and put his tongue out again, rather as if \nconsidering the new appellation. \n'So you will come when I call you, Molossos Molossou,' said \nTheodoros, 'and you will run with me and we will hunt together, and \nyou will not leave me. Promise you will come when I call you, and \nkeep everybody in my house safe. Agreed?' \nTheodoros flung his arms fully round the beast and kissed the top \nof its head. Molossos Molossou responded by licking his face \nenthusiastically. \n'There!' said Theodoros. 'He really is mine now, and he is willing \nto come with us.' \nThe collar was affixed amid some growls and protests, and the strong \nrope. We left in a procession. Philemon with nothing, Theodoros with \ndog, myselfwith donkey, the slave with basket. A few steps beyond the \ngate, however, the 'second pup' seemed to realise it was leaving its \nparent and former companions behind, and emitted a startling howl, \nwhich set off the others inside the yard. We had a deal of business \nquieting him. At last he consented to trot along under pressure of our \nunited urging. Soon, however, Philemon had to leave us and go home. \nNoting the diminution of \nour number, the dog seemed to think he had \na better chance of conducting the expedition as he pleased. \nThe countryside held innumerable attractions for Molossos \nMolossou, and he took off with alarming speed over a field, dragging \nTheodoros after him. The slave and I ran after the pair, whereupon \nthe donkey, not knowing what to do with so much freedom, began to \nstray towards a cottage garden to eat the produce. Fortunately, I \nheaded off the ass before it did any damage, and Theodoros \npersuaded the hound to come back to the road. This was by no means \nthe last foray. Most alarming was the occasion when he was attracted \nby a chicken in the road and chased it \nvigorously back home, dragging \nTheodoros with him into a crowd of anxious and noisy fowl. \n133 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF UFE \n'Molossos Molossou, I cannot have you doing this all the time,' \nsaid Theodoros, wiping his brow. 'And I cannot go on calling you \n\"Molossos Molossou\" all the time either. It's too long. I shall call you \njust \"Moloss-Molou\".' \nAnd so the dog became \"Moloss-Molou\" for ever after, and we \nproceeded on our way to Eleusis, sometimes with the boy leading the \ndog, sometimes with the dog pulling the boy. \nSmikrenes received the news of the dog, and the dog itself, in his \nusual gracious manner. \n'So, this beast will eat us all out of house and home,' he \npronounced. \n'No, no. He's supposed to be able to hunt for what he eats. He will \nkeep down the rats and rabbits and anything that eats your crops,' I \nsaid rashly. 'And he will be a watch-dog and a guard over all.' \n'Well, could be worse. This thing's going to grow - and he's only \nhalf trained. Great gawping puppy. Your little boy will have to be \nresponsible for him. MyoId dog Argos could have kept him in order, \nif he was alive. Now, there was a real guard dog!' \n'But my dog is alive!' said Theodoros. Theodoros had not been \nbest pleased at being referred to as my 'little boy', but this protest to \nSmikrenes was meant as a point of logic, and not as impudence. It \ndidn't seem likely that Smikrenes would see the difference. \n'Don't be pert, child. Well, let us have a look at you.' Theodoros \nstood squarely in front of \nhim. 'He talks back, but he is well grown. \nHope you're strong, boy. Fine manly little fellow,' added \nSmikrenes, sighing. 'I never had any such, only the girl. Spoilt, \nprobably. I dare say he's been softened by city ways, though - school \nand games and endless playtime. Not used to work, like the country \nboys here are.' \n'I can do anything a country boy can do,' Theodoros insisted \nstoutly. 'And Stephanos said I was to help you.' \n'Yes. No school here but life. Don't look alarmed, boy, I won't eat \nyou, and I'll leave some time for play. Philomela my daughter will \n134 \n\n\nPREPARING FOR FLIGHT \nfeed you well, and you can talk to her when I am not about. But you \nare to mind me, hear! No running away.' \n'Theodoros has never given us the least trouble,' I said, answering \nthe child's mute appeal for defence. 'He is the prop of \nour household. \nWhen I am away, he is the man of \nit, as he knows, and must look after \nhis mother.' \n'I dare say we shall all shake down well enough,' said Smikrenes, \nshaking his own head as if to counteract too much good cheer in this \nprophecy. He agreed to take charge of \nMoloss-Molou until our whole \nparty should arrive on the morrow. \nTheodoros, understandably fatigued, made good use of \nthe donkey \non the way home. I knew that he was - and who could wonder at it! \n- daunted at the prospect of life with Smikrenes. I told him frankly \nthat was our only resource. I also explained about Philomela, whom \nhe would meet, as he was still young enough not to be separated from \nthe women. \nThe next day we all set out again. I insisted on an early start so that \nnot too many neighbours would see our departure. A cart, drawn by \ntwo asses, was full of household effects: pallets, blankets, clothing, \npots, food, and trinkets from which my mother could not bear to part. \nMother had to ride, and I could afford no more estimable conveyance. \nI sent the slaves on ahead so we would not be too great a procession, \nbut we were noticeable enough with my mother in her cart surrounded \nby piles of \nstuff, and one son walking along on each side of \nher. \nIt took a terribly long time to get to Eleusis, and my mother's little \nwails at departing from her house, though softened by her veil and her \nown sense of \npropriety, did not add to the cheer of \nthe expedition. It \nwas borne in upon me forcibly, though (strangely) only at this point, \nthat the person who might suffer the most by this arrangement for a \nvisit would be my bride-to-be, Philomela. It is hard enough for a \nyoung woman who has the honour to be a bride to adjust to life with \nher mother-in-law, but Philomela, witho~t a bridal, would have to \nendure my mother's chiding, disapproval, weeping and worrying. It \n135 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nwould be too much to hope that Mother would like her, I thought. \nMother was so strongly against the marriage. She might try to create \na breach that could never be healed. It surprised me once I realised \nthis that I hadn't thought of it before. But then, I had been thinking \nonly of \nthe family's safety. \n'Don't let any stranger - not of the family - feed your dog,' I \nwarned Theodoros. 'You must train him to accept nothing that \ndoesn't come from your hand, or that of Mother or Philomela. He \ncan eat what he himself \ncatches, or he can eat what you give him - not \ntoo much. But make him learn that he must not eat what anyone else \noffers him. Dogs have been poisoned by spiteful people before now.' \nTheodoros' eyes grew big. \n'You can train him,' I said. 'You can spend a good deal of \nyour time \nthis summer training Moloss-Molou.' \nOur journey seemed to take forever, with stops on the road for \neating or relieving ourselves, searching for lost articles, or resting the \ndonkeys, but at length we arrived at Eleusis deme and then at the \nhome of Smikrenes. Although it was already nearly evening, I took \nonly a couple of \nhours' rest and some food before returning to Athens \nto close up our house. Next morning I would be setting out for the \nsea journey to the eastern islands. I departed from Eleusis under a \ngood moon, after a tearful farewell to Mother. She kept the donkey \nand cart with her; travelling at night, she pointed out, could only \nendanger the little vehicle. Besides, she might think of \nsomething else \nshe wanted from home. I readily agreed, not desiring the nuisance of \nthe cart on the way back. I said my goodbyes to her within the house, \nbut Theodoros accompanied me to the gate. \n'Take care of yourself, Stepho,' he said, in a manly way. My \ndeparture seemed to be making us more equal. Indeed, I realised to \nmy surprise that I did have some reliance on the intelligence and \njudgement of \nThe \nodor \nos - much more than on my cousin Philemon's \nat any age. But there was no getting away from the fact that \nTheodoros was only in his tenth year. \n136 \n\n\nPREPARING FOR FLIGHT \n'Farewell, and I leave you in the care of the gods,' I said formally. \nI could not forbear a light warning: 'Keep a wary eye out for loutish \nmen hanging about. I thought I saw a couple of \nloiterers, slaves most \nprobably, eyeing our town house the other day - one is a big beefy \nfellow.' \n'I will watch out,' said Theodoros readily. 'After all,' he laughed, \n'we don't want pieces of animals left on us, like some people!' \n'Exactly.' I didn't want to alarm the child by telling him any more. \nBut I added, though this was really an afterthought, 'Theodoros, I \nknow you can write. I must depend on you. In Mother's little wooden \nbox you will find a small clay tablet with two strange names on it. \nAristodamos of Naxos and Oromedon son of Daliokles, of Kos. \nAristotle gave me these two addresses. If \nI am not actually with them \nthese men may know where I can be found.' \n'I understand,' Theodoros said. 'I'll write, I promise.' \n'Write at least once, just to let me know that everything is all right,' \nI urged. 'And please do not omit to write if you think there is any \nneed, or if there is any trouble. I don't put great confidence in the \njudgement of my cousin Philemon, but if you want money or \nimmediate assistance you may ask him. He owes me his help, and \nmany favours.' \n'I will remember what you say,' said Theodoros, looking serious. 'I \ncan remember the names. Aristodamos of Naxos and Oromedon of \nKos - son of Daliokles. And I will look after Mother. Don't you \nworry, Stephanos, my brother. Moloss-Molou will guard all of \nus.' \nSo I said my last farewell to my family and stumbled wearily back \nto Athens and my poor deserted house to pack up the few things I \ncould bother to take with me on my long journey. \n137 \n\n\nIX \nTaking Ship for the Islands \nIn the first morning light I went to Aristotle's house. He was, of \ncourse, ready, with his slave Phokon to carry his bags. Young \nParmenion was also prepared for travel, at least as far as his dress was \nconcerned. The boy, pale and silent, his lips compressed, stood with \nhead bowed as one resigned to fate. Aristotle's household, including \nhis assistants, the teachers and the students, as well as the slaves, both \nmen and women, had drawn up to say farewell. They stood about in \nthe cool air, some visibly distressed, others with difficulty holding in \ncheck their desire for sleep. Young Mikon gaped in a terrific yawn, \nand his neighbour nudged him. But the woman slave who must be \nHerpyllis, she who had tended Pythias during her last days, seemed \ngreatly moved. A female slave does not have to be veiled, and \nHerpyllis' headgear slipped as she attended earnestly to Aristotle's \nfarewell, rendering her fully visible. This woman had a lovely face, \nslightly rounder than the perfect oval, and large grey eyes of great \nexpressiveness; the tracks of \ntears were visible on her cheeks. She held \nlittle Pythias by the hand, readied for travel also, with a big basket \nbeside them. They were to set out to Euboia as soon as the Master \nleft. Aristotle, rising to the occasion, made a grave and simple speech: \n138 \n\n\nTAKING SHIP FOR THE ISlANDS \n'I am going,' he told the assembled company, 'for but a while, and \nI look forward to returning to you all. I am taking Parmenion back to \nhis home, and I shall also be going on a little errand of matters of \nimportance, about which I cannot speak at present. You will be well \nprotected when I am away. I hope to hear of your progress in work \nwhen I get back. Above all, the work of \nthe school must not slacken. \nI hope all my dear students will grow in wisdom and knowledge \nduring our time apart. Mayall go well with you, and the goodwill of \ngods and men rest upon this house and its inhabitants.' \nThere was a little cheer, with some sobbing. We walked away. \nAristotle kept his arm tucked in Parmenion's, to make sure he would \ncome, and Phokon brought up the rear. Aristotle had arranged an \neasy departure, with asses to carry the luggage and Parmenion, and \nourselves if we wished. I was glad not to have to carry my bundle all \nthe way to Peiraieus. At least by now I had learned about the \nnecessities of travelling, and had brought useful things in a leather \nbag, of some defence against the weather. Aristotle assured me that \nPhokon would buy water for us all when we got to the port. I hadn't \nthought about the difficulty of getting drinking water on board the \nship. It was pleasant to have a servant to wait upon me, but awkward \nthat he belonged to somebody else. I could not have spared one of \nour \nhome servants to accompany me, and the prospect of \nhaving to feed \nan extra mouth along the road would have been too daunting. \nNaturally, Aristotle would have an attendant. \nThe road seemed long, for I had walked many weary stadia to and \nfrom Eleusis in recent days. I was glad to see the port, with its bustle \nand glow oflife. Peiraieus was familiar to me: at one time I had quite \nhaunted the place. But a port always looks different when you \nyourself are going on a journey. At the time when I had frequented \nPeiraieus a couple of years before, most of the military shipping was \nwith Alexander at the eastern edge of the ocean, ferrying troops and \nsupplies to the coast of Asia. But now many of these ships had \nreturned. Some warships of the stunning new size were being \n139 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nrepaired, or made ready to be put in dry dock. Peiraieus seemed to \nhave more slipways than before, and more sheds to house ships and \ntackle. These boathouses are really quite elegant, like temples for \nships, with their stone columns and wooded roofs. \nAristotle made his way confidently to a particular area of the \nEmporion where the merchant ships are harboured. The big \nmerchantmen are really huge close to, and I was gazing at one of \nthe \nones with a vast number of crewmen swarming aboard her when we \ndrew near to our more modest craft. 'I have engaged a very good \nship,' Aristotle explained to me. 'Excellent captain. A vessel of suffi-\ncient size to take us and our luggage without constriction. There will \nbe a few other passengers of course. Ah! Here it is. The Eudaimonia \nof Peiraieus.' \nIt seemed a good sign that the ship had such a cheerful name, \nalthough some philosophers tell us that we should seek first Arete, \nexcellence or virtue, and not care about prosperity or the good spirits \nsignified by Eudaimonia. Both Aristotle and I, so I thought, could do \nwith a little happiness. \n'Stephanos, this is our good captain Aiskhines. Of Peiraieus, like \nthe ship. He is the kybernetes who commands this ship, and also the \nnaukleros. ' \n'Lucky for you,' said the captain cheerfully. 'A man who owns his \nship will surely take the best care of \nit, and his passengers too. Rowers \nall hand-picked -\nthe six best have manned ships in the wars. \nExperienced men.' \nI looked curiously at the man on whom we were to depend, and was \nreassured. Aiskhines had a square capable face, and smiling brown \neyes. 'A nice ship,' I said cautiously, knowing very little about ships. \n'She is that, sir. A keles, not as big as some, but built for speed. \nResponds well to the rowers, and carries sail, as you see.' \nIt is well that I kept my countenance, for the word keles is well \nknown in another context: as 'a good fast ride' or 'a fast go'. It is what \na man pays the highest price for in the brothels when he wants a \n140 \n\n\nTAKING SHIP FOR THE ISLANDS \nwoman to ride him. We used to giggle a lot about the word in school. \nAfter we really knew what we were talking about, the laughter \nchanged. \n'A keles, yes,' 1 said approvingly. 'I didn't know we were taking \ncargo with us,' 1 added, with less approbation. Aiskhines and his crew \nwere engaged in storing a lot of \nthings on the vessel. 1 had not realised \nwe were going to have to share our ship with anything but human \nfreight. \n'Oh, just a little oil- scarcely anything in the way of \ncargo this trip. \nWhy, you wouldn't believe it perhaps, but this little cutter can take \nnearly thirty talents' weight of cargo! Very snug hold. You'll be glad \nof the cargo aboard, sir, for it adds ballast and stability, and prevents \nthe ship jumping about too much on the waves. And she's a lively filly \nwhen she gets her head!' \n'Where can my slave put our luggage?' Aristotle enquired. \n'Come with me, sir. Right there, down in the back of \nthe hold, but \nbe sure it's in the dry part. Now the kitchen area is in that little galley \naft, if \nyou have kitchen stuff \nto leave off \n- but be careful. That's where \nthe firepot is.' \n1 looked and saw that the roofed space at the very back of \nthe deck \nwas nicely tiled over, with a hole cut for the smoke to go out from a \nportable hearth. The firepot was sturdy, ingeniously made of \nmultiple \nlayers, to keep the fire safe from wind and spray. Utensils, knives and \nspoons and a pot or two, hung neatly on pegs, jammed in place with \nother pegs so they would not swing about. \n'I had no idea that a ship could have a kitchen,' 1 said admiringly. \n'Oh, there's no home like ship, sir, as you'll find. Everything you \ncould want, handy as can be. Not like the great naval fleet that had to \nstop for breakfast by the little goat-trough creeks at Aigospotamoi. \nBecause they stopped they got caught by the Spartan admiral \nLysander. A famous defeat, Aigospotamoi. A whole navy lost for the \nsake of \na breakfast - except for one commander who didn't beach for \na meal, and saved his ships.' The captain laughed. 'Now, if \nthey'd all \n141 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nhad kitchens, there'd have been no loss. But it's true, you can't feed \nmen in a meres, with nearly two hundred mouths. But we can eat \nwhen we like. Mind you, doing the Kyklades run we can probably hop \non an island for the night and you can dine on dry land, as landsmen \nprefer. But we could cook you up a fine dinner at sea.' \nThe captain was torn between the desire to go on praising his ship \nand the desire to continue attending to the cargo. He and his men \nwere evidently so busy that we begged not to interrupt him. About \none sixth or so of \nthe ship's interior was taken up with a wooden rack \nwith rows of square holes in which to hold pots securely; the crew \nwere packing into these the kind of long pots with a spike at the \nbottom that are used for shipping liquid products. The holes were \npartly filled with packing sand, into which the spike could be run, and \nthen the tops of the bottles were packed about with soft twigs and \nsome straw. \n'We'll be off as soon as we've got our oil ready,' the captain \nexplained briskly. 'A couple of other passengers and yourselves. \nWe're carrying fresh water for ourselves and the crew - we have a \nlarge water tank in the hold.' He pointed to a gigantic pot covered \nthickly with pitch. \n'Though you can bring your own if you fancy it. \nCrew are likely to go through the water supply at a great rate in this \nheat. Hope to get off \nsoon before the sun has risen further up the sky. \nYou may as well go and get something to eat before we depart.' \nThus encouraged, we left our baggage with Phokon to look after \nit, and climbed out again. We betook ourselves to the market area. \nPeiraieus has what must be the best market in the world - goods \ncome from everywhere. There are hides from Argos and the islands; \nperfumes and carvings and papyrus from Egypt; pottery from the \nGreek colonies around Poseidonia in the West; brightly coloured \ncushions and carpets from Karthago and from Persia; spices from \nplaces far away; and beautiful jewellery looted from Persian lands \nand pawned or put up for sale. Everyone in Peiraieus seems to be \ntrading something. Bankers set up their tables here, along the \n142 \n\n\nTAKING SHIP FOR THE ISLANDS \nwaterfront, with their scales and piles of \ncoin and bullion, all guarded \nby stout and competent slaves. You could hear the quick clicking \npatter-patter of \ntiles of silver and gold falling on one another, as rich \npersons from home or abroad made an exchange or deposit, or took \nout a loan. \nJust seeing all this made me feel happier, and hungry. Peiraieus \nspecialises in tripe, and also other organs. I looked for the list of \nofficial prices and was glad to see that costs had not gone up. The list \noffered mouthwatering delicacies. I hesitated between tripe and a \nstew of \npigs' trotters (while being coaxed by the hot-meat seller to try \nthe fried brains), but eventually settled on the tripe. \n'You are a brave man,' exclaimed Aristotle. \n'I'm hungry now,' I said, 'and these little stalls do tripe very well. \nYou ought to try it. What about yourself, Parmenion?' \nParmenion simply looked offended, and Aristotle said, 'Well, \nbefore sailing some people are more anxious about their stomachs.' \nI hadn't thought of \nthis, but waved the consideration away. 'I'll be \nfine,' I said with assurance. My eye was caught by the large sign \nshowing the exact measures to be used according to the law. In a \nsandstone slab bits and pieces of \na man appeared in outline - an arm, \na hand, a foot. I pointed this out, laughing. 'It looks as if the man is \ndisappearing into the sand. Evaporated, even, leaving only the outline \nof \nhis fragments. That would be a mystery to solve, indeed Where did \nhe go?' I persisted in the fantasy (which perhaps first arose from my \nstate of fatigue), partly because I saw it as my responsibility to keep \nAristotle cheerful, mentally occupied with interesting and amusing \nthings. \nIt was a great relief to me that Aristotle had allowed no signs of \nhis \nmourning to escape him since we had left his home. He was right: \nfortitude and philosophy had come to his aid, as well as the natural \nself-restraint of \na gentleman unwilling to burden his friends. Once we \nstarted travelling, and our minds were turned to new things, he would \nresign himself, forget to recall his loss. So at the sight of \nthe comical \n143 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nsign -\nthe man in parts disappearing -\nI laughed out loud to \nencourage Aristotle. The tripe seller glared, thinking I was laughing \nat him, which I certainly wasn't. \nThe sight of \nthe foot, suspended in stone in mid-air, reminded me \nof \nmy own feet. My sandals were worn down, although they were the \ntoughest kind with hobnails in the soles. The pause in Peiraieus gave \nme time to buy a sturdy new pair. 'At least,' I said to our company, 'I \nshall be walking on a piece of Attika all the time. I shall feel better \nwith Athenian footwear on.' I also felt better because the shoemaker \nkindly allowed me to wash my legs and feet, as I was thick with dust \nfrom toes to knees. \nAs we headed back to our little ship, I dawdled behind Aristotle \nand Parmenion, looking at the fine goods for sale. I was annoyed by \nan urchin wearing a hood like someone who is ill; the boy kept trying \nto make me buy oregano or fennel. In attempting to evade the little \nfellow, who made me curiously uneasy, I bumped into a slow-moving \nwoman. I apologised before I realised that this female was only a \nslave. Then I noticed that she was lame, and could walk only \nhaltingly. Yet, most strangely, she was carrying a dog in her arms. \n'Here,' I said, handing her a hemi-obol. I hurried after Aristotle, but \nthe woman came thumping after me with her uneven tread. \nWhen we drew near the ship we could see that it was almost ready \nto depart. Two unknown men, obviously not sailors but passengers, \nwere already on board her. We stood and gazed at our ship, a little \ndeeper in the water now as it rode with the oil jars in its hold. \n'Won't be long - come on board!' the captain called to us. He and \none of his sailors were critically inspecting the sail, which they then \nproceeded to furl, stowing the mast within the ship, running all the \nlength of \nit under the rowers' thwarts. 'We don't use sail till we're out \non open water,' he explained, 'and not then unless the wind is right \nfor it. Still, you catch a good wind, you cut down on the time. \nAnybody want to go to Delos?' he added jokingly. \nThe woman with the dog drew up to us. \n144 \n\n\nTAKING SHIP FOR THE ISLANDS \n'Oh please, good sirs, take me with you! I wish to go - I need to go \n- to Delos. I have some money. I can pay my way! Passage for me and \nmy poor dear little dog here. It's a cripple, deary me! - just like me. \nCan hardly walk. But we both need to get to Delos.' The lame dog in \nher arms whined. It looked neither young nor healthy. \n'What is your name and who is your mistress? Should you not be \ntravelling with her?' Phokon asked. 'And where is your mistress?' \nadded the captain. \n'Oh, sirs, my name is Doris, and my mistress is Kardaka. She has \ngone to her mother's family home on the island for the summer. She \nleft me to close up the house in Peiraieus. But she wants me to meet \nher in Delos. Rheneia, actually. Greater Delos. That's why I have the \nmoney to go. But I must take this dog, and not every boat has room \nfor a dog.' \n'Why do you carry this dog about?' I asked bluntly. 'It is not that \nsmall a dog, and you are obviously crippled.' \nShe flushed. \n'Yes, I am quite lame,' she admitted. 'But the dog is, too - he \nwouldn't get about at all, hardly, without me. This dog is the dearest \nthing to me. I have looked after him all his life. And now he has got \nlame and not too well the mistress said she would give him to me \noutright if I would take care of him. But we need to meet her in the \nisland next to Delos, and I can pay for my passage.' \n'Can't be doing with dogs running around the ship!' exclaimed the \ncaptain. \n'Oh, please! Sirs, please! Let me take the dog, I beg of \nyou. I can \nput him in a basket of some kind - there are basket sellers here-\nabouts. And we can sit at the very back. I'll pay extra for the \ndog.' \n'Well,' said Aristotle, 'I suppose we can do one act of kindness.' \n'It's not too kind if we're not paying for it,' I reminded him. \n'Can you get a basket without delay, woman, for that there dog?' \ndemanded the captain. 'For we need to set off \n- the day is advancing.' \n145 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nThe woman succeeded in cajoling a basket with a lid out of \none of \nthe neighbouring shops for a very low price. In this the dog was \nforcibly and duly incarcerated. The basket was lowered into the well \nof the boat, the dog whining and sniffling, and the poor limping \nslavewoman was helped aboard by two of \nthe crew. We all followed. \nOur own party was by far the most numerous: Aristotle, myself, \nyoung Parmenion and Phokon. The power of \nnumbers was such that \nwe forced the two men of \nbusiness travelling with us to make room. \nOne of these was an insignificant, partly bald little fellow of the sort \nthat one can see everywhere every day. He had a kind of \nshawl to keep \nsun off his neck, and a number of small parcels. I tried to help him, \nbut he said 'Let my things alone!' in a grumpy voice, and then heaped \nthe little bundles about him suspiciously, as if he suspected us of \nwanting to steal them. \n'One cannot tell in a boat full of dogs what may happen to one's \nthings,' he said in peevish tones, casting a baleful look at the lame \nslavewoman and her unfortunate pet. 'It's not what I'm used to, I'm \nhappy to say. Never.' \nThis genial fellow then huddled in his shawl, although the weather \nwas so warm, and seemed disinclined for conyersation. The other \nman was much more forthcoming. As we moved our own bundles \nabout (suddenly we all seemed to have a great many), this man \nexplained that his name was Miltiades, that he had done the run to \nSounion often before, and thought that at least that leg of the trip \nshould go smoothly, given the weather conditions. Certain men \nalways seem to know more about the weather than other people, even \nsomehow to own it, as if it came from their own manufactory. \n'We are slightly delayed,' said Captain Aiskhines. 'But we'll use all \nour oarsmen in getting out of harbour and down to Sounion. \nPassengers, I beg you to settle yourselves.' \nWe sat down and arranged ourselves comfortably. Then we had to \nmove again because we were in the way of \nthe oarsmen, who seemed \nto have multiplied greatly. It is not easy for passengers to distribute \n146 \n\n\nTAKING SHIP FOR THE ISLANDS \nthemselves, as of course the oarsmen come first - they have to be \nwhere they are. \nThe oarsmen were handsome fellows enough, and sinewy. Brown \nas earth, they all went naked, each man sitting on his own leather \ncushion on the bench, oar in hand. The oar was fitted through a \nround hole in the boat's side, but the hole had a leather bag tightly \nfitted in it, to prevent it from admitting spray. The men sat facing \nbackwards, looking to the stern, but the captain and a keelsman faced \nforward. \nWhile the oars were readied, we had leisure to look about us. 'Only \nthink,' I said to Aristotle, anxious to divert his thoughts. 'Only think \nof all that this harbour has seen. As I have read, and heard also, long \nago in the time of Sokrates and Alkibiades there were a hundred \ntriremes crowded together - here - ready to depart for Sikilia. And all \nthe relatives and friends of \nthese thousands of \nmen came crowding to \nthe shore too. What a vast crowd it must have been! Music played, \nand the whole crowd said their prayers in unison - what a heart-\nstirring moment! And the captains, led by Alkibiades, poured upon \nthe waters libations from goblets of \ngold and silver.' \nThe captain frowned. 'It's not great good luck to talk about the \nSikilian Expedition,' he announced. I was embarrassed. Of course I \nought to have remembered that famous Expedition had ended in \ndefeat and loss. It made sense that seafarers did not want to hear \nabout disaster. Now a helper on shore untied the rope that bound our \nship, and the first sailor hauled in the anchor. The captain then \nburned a pinch of incense on the little altar at the back of the boat. \nHe poured a libation of \nwine into the sea, not like an Alkibiades from \na golden goblet, but from an ordinary earthen beaker. \n'We're offi In the name of \nZeus Protector and Saviour, of \nPoseidon \nand all the gods. Wait for the keleusma, men! Six oars through the \nharbour. One-two-and three!' The captain chanted the keleusma, the \nbeat that gave the rhythm to the oarsmen. \n'Here we go!' said Aristotle. 'Bid farewell to your city, Stephanos.' \n147 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF liFE \n'Your first time at sea, young man?' asked Miltiades. 'You should \nenjoy it, even if this is a small ship. On big ships like the triereis, of \ncourse, it's wonderful - a multitude of rowers. And there is a \nboatswain who does nothing but chant the beat - even pipers to give \nthe time.' \nEven if we had only a relatively small ship, it was exciting to move \nout into the harbour, threading our way through other shipping. I \nadmired the exactness with which the captain foresaw how the oars \nmust be handled or idled in order to swing, to change direction, to \nmake a manoeuvre. We swung out into the gulf, with a dipping of \noars \nand the plash of waves and the voice keeping time - the first time I \nhad heard that peculiar rhythmic sound, or set of sounds. Gulls \nscreamed overhead, sailors on other ships called out friendly or \nobscene remarks, and the land began to slip away. In no time at all we \nwere in the gulf and out of \nthe harbour. It was a startling view. Aigina, \njust ahead, looked very big, a conical island that it seemed hard not \nto bump into. \n'Look west, Stephanos, and you will see the Peloponnesos,' said \nAristotle. Facing backwards like the rowers and craning my neck I \ncould see a great deal of land with many hills, and towering above it \none startling triangular peak. \n'That peak - that is Akrokorinthos,' Aristotle explained. 'Almost \ndirectly behind us is Korinthos itself.' \n'Oh, I see,' I said. I was almost disappointed. When Aristotle had \nonce gone by sea to Korinthos on my behalf on a dangerous winter \njourney, I had been deeply impressed. But now it didn't seem so \ndistant; I began fully to realise that you could indeed get to Korinthos \nby boat, and it was not extremely far away. \nThe oarsmen moved to their task with deliberate speed, and the \nwind and currents favoured us. We were moving - and moving not \nslowly along the coast of \nAttika. The sun shone brightly on the water. \nSoon it was hot, though not as hot as it would be on land. \n'Rig 'em up some shade, boys,' advised the captain. Nimbly two of \n148 \n\n\nTAKING SHIP FOR THE ISLANDS \nthe rowers put up a light framework on which they spread cloths, \nattached by tabs of material to the poles of the airy scaffolding. We \nhad a shelter from the beating sun, a small tent roof \nwhere we sat on \nthe deck. \n'All the conveniences of \nhome,' said the captain. 'By the way, you \nwill find it most convenient, gentleman, to do your pissing - and if \npossible your shitting too - over the side. We could rig up the latrine, \nbut it makes a drag on the ship, and there aren't any ladies aboard at \nthe moment. We've also got a serviceable pot, but that has to be \nemptied each time. As for that there dog -' he looked at the \nslavewoman - 'you've got to clean up his messes. Understood?' \nShe nodded mutely. We shared some of our water with her; \nPhokon had seen to it that we had purchased a good supply of \nfresh \ndrinking-water in skin bottles at the port. Phokon also offered us a \nfew flat loaves of \nbarley and some olives, as we watched Attika go by. \nI declined, as my own tripes were still dealing with the Peiraieus tripe. \nI enjoyed the view in a fatigued and stupefied way. The sun and the \nrowing lulled my senses and I was content to sit and stare. \nBay and inlet and headland, there it was - Attika; stadia and stadia \nof Attika, stretching in its long peninsula, the sweet green Middle \nLand with its vegetable gardens, its fields of \ngrain, its olive groves and \nits vineyards. The sun and the scenery were making me contented \nand sleepy; perhaps the tripe I had eaten had its share in this effect. \nBut principally it was the reaction to having taken so little sleep in the \nrecent strenuous days. Now I lay on the ship, half in sun and half in \nshade, and let the world slip by me, lulled by the rhythm of \noars as we \ncoasted along in sight of our shore. Aristotle need not have worried, \nI thought drowsily, I was not the kind to get seasick. Instead, I felt a \nsense of profound relief at having got away from my home and the \npast, and the worries and pains that had occupied us so much in the \nlast month. I tried to dismiss from my mind the less pleasant images \nthat rose in it occasionally: a horse's decaying head, a swinging heavy \nmallet, a dead monkey sprawled and grinning. \n149 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nAll day green Attika slipped past us. Only one thin strip of sunset \nglow was left on the western horizon, when we arrived at Sounion. \nAbove us towered the great temple, visible by torchlight even in this \ngrowing darkness, a sight in white and blue and gold. We got into the \ngentle bay at the foot of \nits cliff on the western side and nestled there, \nsleeping on board. When we awoke in the morning at the fIrst gleams \nof coming light, Poseidon's bright temple was the fIrst thing we saw. \nThere was nothing between it and the eastern horizon, and the sun \nappeared to rise through the glowing temple. \n'Here we make our sacrifIce to Poseidon,' said the captain briskly. \n'As you will want to do before a long journey. And we have a few \nmore passengers to pick up. But I hope we will be under way to Delos \nthis morning. So be quick about your prayers.' \nWe could not properly get to the great shrine by the shortest route, \nwhich would be to ascend directly by the little cliff up to the \nPropylaia, the entryway to the temple; we walked, as we were \nsupposed to do, the long winding marble path, stopping at the \nTemple of \nAthena of Sounion to pay our respects before proceeding \nto the great and beautiful structure dedicated to the god of \nthe sea. I \nhad seen before this most beautiful temple, commissioned by Perikles \nafter the old one had been ruined by the Persian invasion. It is built \nof our own marble of Attika. \nI had not really visited Sounion since I was a boy. This time, I \nnoticed how heavily fortifIed the place was. As this was the fIrst citadel \nof \nAttika to be encountered by comers from the East, with more mature \neyes I could comprehend its strategic importance. The Makedonian \nforces had taken it over in recent years; they had strengthened the \nfortifIcations, and put several soldiers about to keep watch. \n'If \nit isn't patrolled, Sounion can be a terrible place for pirates,' our \ncaptain remarked. 'The ship-sheds need to be protected as well as the \nport. Many vessels stop here.' \n'Yes -\nincluding the grain ships on their way from Euboia.' \nAristotle sighed unexpectedly. \n150 \n\n\nTAKING SHIP FOR THE ISlANDS \n'Mind you don't try to buy nothing from the sellers around this \nplace,' said the captain. 'They're terrible sharp, the people of \nSounion, and they go their own way. They often set runaway slaves \nfree. 1 dare say the new govemment'll put a stop to those tricks.' \nWe walked on upwards to the wonderful temple, where we could see \nthe great frieze of \nthe contest of \nthe Lapiths and Centaurs, and the feats \nof \nTheseus, the daring adventurer and prince of \nAttika who had slain \nthe dreadful Minotaur in Krete, and returned triumphant home again. \nWithin, the astonishing bronze statue of Poseidon commanded our \nattention. We made some offerings and uttered our prayers, as a group. \n1 made a promise to the divine ruler of \nthe sea to put up a votive tablet \nat Sounion if \nmy voyage went well. (I didn't define for myself and the \ngod clearly what 'going well' would mean, which was a mistake - you \nneed to be clear about such things.) The whole area of \nthe temenos was \nfull of votive offerings to Poseidon, from the most gigantic kouroi in \nmarble, dedicatory statues of young men, to little clay plaques of the \nfeeblest kind. 1 resisted all the sellers trying to offer us plaques of \nPoseidon or miniature statues, and we strolled about looking from this \nvantage point. Just offshore there were only a few little uninteresting \nislands. Westward, whence we had come, we could just make out the \nlumpy shape of Aigina. Eastward was the blue horizon a-dazzle with \nearly sun, the great blank to which 1 was travelling. \n'I have promised a votive offering to Poseidon,' 1 said to one of \nthe \nsailors as we marched downward again. 'But he's not one of my \nfavourite gods, 1 have to say. Earthquakes and tempests - and the big \nempty sea.' \n'0 \nsir, don't say such a thing!' The nautes looked shocked. 'You will \nbring us ill fortune! You tempt divine power and risk the success of \nyour own voyage. How can you say such things of \nthe great and good \ngod! He who provides us with the road that connects man and man -\nand gives the great abundance of fish of all kinds for humans to eat! \nOh, please take back these words! Go back to the temple and utter \ngood words about the King of \nthe ancient Waters.' \n151 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n1 felt a trifle alarmed myself, now 1 thought of \nit. Hastily 1 returned \n(the sailor trotting along to make sure 1 did so), and found some \nformulas in my tired brain. 'I honour and adore the great and good \nKing of \nthe Sea in his infinite depth and great majesty. And 1 humbly \npray to him for good success when venturing upon the deep, his realm \nfor ever. And 1 promise, most solemnly, a votive offering if 1 return \nalive, as well as the special offering promised before if my journey \ngoes well.' \nWith this, Poseidon and the sailor had to content themselves. The \nday was advancing, and we needed to move smartly down the path, \nagainst the flow of ascending visitors. When we got to the landing \nstage, we found other passengers waiting to board our ship. The \ngrumpy and uncommunicative man had, happily, left us for good at \nSounion, but bright-faced Miltiades was rejoining us, having \npurchased water and fresh provisions. Another gentleman, younger \nthan Miltiades, presumably also a man of \nbusiness, joined us here, a \nvery handsome man with an air of \nauthority and a beautifully straight \nnose. With great elegance of manner, he introduced himself as \nPhilokhoros of the deme of Akharneia. Philokhoros of the straight \nnose and elegant bearing had a slave-boy with him, a slender young \nfellow of about Parmenion's age but not his growth. This youth, \nwhose name we were told was 'Sosios', looked nervous at being on \nthe water, and cast a dismal look at the land when at last (so it seems \nfrom a ship) it began to slip away from us. \nThere was also a new party of a different kind, a domestic group \nthat stood to one side. An old man, a hooded woman and a little girl. \nThey seemed respectable, indeed of the better class, though not \nostentatiously or out of measure well-to-do; their clothes were \ncarefully mended in places. The little girl was pale and thin, and \nstooped over. You could see her breathing, and she coughed several \ntimes as she stood there, holding her mother's hand and looking \nabout her as well as she could in her circumstances. \n'This is Hermippos of Laurion,' explained Captain Aiskhines. \n152 \n\n\nTAKING SHIP FOR THE ISLANDS \n'With his daughter and his little granddaughter, as well as their \nfemale slave. Now we shall have to put the latrine up,' he advised his \nmen. \nThe old man stood erect and spoke formal greetings to us with \ngreat gravity. \n'We travel far,' he explained, 'we are pursuing our route as far as \nthe island of Kos.' He gave commands to a short thin slavewoman \nwho bustled in with their belongings. Two seamen gave their \nattention to rigging up a latrine on the left side of \nthe boat not far from \nthe galley. This little contraption was made to overhang the side of \nthe boat: you stepped in from the deck, but then you were sitting \nstraight above the ocean and your offering plopped directly into the \ndeep. In fact, the women and children for whose benefit this was put \nup were hardly the chief \nbeneficiaries, as each preferred to utilise the \npot, having someone shield her with a cloak during the operaton of \nnecessity. \nThe latrine was not the only addition to the proprieties. \n\"Fraid we must gird up, boys!' the captain said, and the men, \ngrumbling only slightly, fastened loincloths about themselves. \n'At least it keeps your bum and balls from splinters,' said the sailor \nwho had spoken to me of Poseidon. 'Trouble is, cloth gets soaked \nwith salt. Either splinters or in a pickle - that's the fate of our \nmembers!' \nWhen we all had got aboard, with still more bundles and \nbelongings, the ship now seemed a tight fit. As well as our own party \n- the slave Phokon, the schoolboy Parmenion, myself and Aristotle -\nwe still had with us from Peiraieus the businessman Miltiades and the \nlittle lame slavewoman with her wretched dog. Now we had the new \nman Philokhoros with his nervous slave of whom he seemed \nirritatingly fond, always stroking his hair. And we had this new family, \nwith the sickly-looking little girl, another female slave and two adults \n- one of them a woman of the most respectable class. That was \ntroublesome, as we all had to make a kind of unofficial women's \n153 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nquarters of one side of \nthe vessel. It doesn't matter with slavewomen \n- they don't require a gynaikon - but naturally we men are not \nsupposed to hob-nob with wives and daughters of the respectable \nclasses. Of \ncourse, the little girl had some of the freedom of \nthe very \nyoung; she seemed to be only six or seven years old. But she was \nrightly bidden to stay close to her mother. \n'Wasn't prepared for this number of passengers,' growled \nMiltiades, though not with the extremest ill nature. 'We could have \ndone without that limping lady's maid there and her pathetic beast.' \nI felt inclined to agree, though the advent of \nthis female was our fault. \n'No cause to worry,' said the captain. 'My men are light, though \nthey're lively, and we didn't take half the cargo we could have, on \npurpose to accommodate you all. We really should have some more \nweight on board. Raise the sail, men!' \n'Pity,' said Miltiades, more amiably, 'I could accommodate you \nonce I get to Paros and Naxos, for I am in the marble way of \nbusiness, \nand marble would supply weight enough. But I shouldn't have \nthought of \nthis cutter as a cargo ship.' \n'She's surely built for speed, the Eudaimonia,' said the captain. He \nlooked fondly at the mast which had again been raised, the sail now \nbellying out in the wind. 'But she's a terrific carrier. A bit of \nballast in \na ship makes it go better when the sea gets high. Cast off, men. We're \nofl1 In the name of \nPoseidon and all the gods!' \nSo with a quick libation we swung out of the good harbour of \nSounion, and the rowers were soon manoeuvring us beyond the cape, \nthe sail pulling us impatiently onward. Seeing the temple in the sun \nstirred me like a song - a sad song, for the temple was getting smaller. \n'Now if \nwe turned left after rounding this point,' said Aristotle, 'we \nwould get to Euboia.' He added in firm tones, 'Eastward is where our \njourney lies. How do you find yourself, Parmenion?' \n'Very well,' said Parmenion, with cool indifference. At least he was \nnow awake, mentally as well as physically, for he seemed to look \nabout him and to gaze almost hopefully eastward. \n154 \n\n\nTAKING SHIP FOR THE ISlANDS \nI could not answer as Pannenion had done. I suddenly stopped \nfeeling very well. The ship was now in a very different kind of \nwater, \nit seemed to me, from what we had experienced yesterday along the \ncoast. After we left the shelter of the headland we were in big deep \nwater manifesting the most amazing activity. The little ship moved in \na different way, now falling, now rising, at the same time shifting side \nto side. The rhythm of the oars, slower now, but steady, was in \nconflict sometimes with the rhythm of the waves, and not just the \nwaves I could see but big internal swellings of water within the sea \nthat seemed to match internal swellings in myself. If I looked at the \nprow or the mast swaying against the horizon I felt dizzy. Soon I was \novertaken by my sensations. Trying to choose a post where I would \nbe least annoying to others, I leaned over the side and cast my offering \ninto the sea. It was the sincerest sort of offering to Poseidon, given \nwith heartfelt desire. Soon I had nothing more to yield, and yet could \nnot stop retching. \n'Fetches them that way, often,' said the sailor nearest me, pulling \nhis oar steadily. I gathered that the slavewoman who had come with \nthe party from Laurion was similarly overcome. But it was shaming \nthat the feeble little girl seemed unaffected, and even though the lame \nDoris, sitting beside her dog, uttered moans as the ship lunged, she \ndid not devote her attention to the side of \nthe ship as I was doing. \n'Are you all right, Stephanos?' It was Aristotle, peering anxiously at \nme. His hair and beard were shaken by the wind. \n'Certainly,' I said haughtily - or as haughtily as one can under these \ncircumstances. 'Must have been something I ate in Sounion.' \n'Don't worry, most people are a little seasick at first,' said Aristotle. \n'It goes off.' \n'Some say as swallowing a mouth of seawater helps,' suggested \nPhokon. \n'Already tried it,' I mumbled. And I had, inadvertently, taken in a \nlarge mouthful of seawater from a passing wave. \n'You'll feel better soon,' Aristotle reiterated, helplessly. This \n155 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nsounded like nonsense. But I was passing into a calm indifference to \nmy fate. Indeed, had someone announced to me that I would die \nwithin the next hour it would have seemed like news not of the first \nimportance. The wind being from the west, and no land to interrupt \nit, we sped along faster and encountered more waves. I gazed \nfascinated at the running of \nthe sea, the marble hardness of \nthe top of \nthe water and the ripples and white foam from the oars breaking and \ncasting the water away and the boiling white tips of \nthe waves and the \nstrange patterns swirling in the lacy aftermath of the lively foam - all \nbefore my eyes like a dream or nightmare that will never end save with \nblessed death that comes to all ... \n'Hold on to him, Phokon!' Aristotle commanded. And Phokon \ngrasped me firmly lest I slip over the side as I was retching my poor \nheart out once again. \nAt last I was somewhat better, and could lie back in the boat again, \nshivering and looking at the blue sky. I took water from a cup (not to \ncontaminate the water-skin). The little girl looked at me with pitying \neyes. \n'You are very poorly,' she said. My performance had evidently \nimpressed her. 'I'm poorly sometimes too.' \n'Tush, Philokleia, don't bother the gentleman,' said her grandfather. \n'Not a bother,' I said weakly. \n'It's true, you know, Father,' said the child's mother. 'For you \nknow sometimes we have not been able to keep a thing down her. I \nam glad this sea doesn't seem to bother her. Indeed, Philokleia has \nnot been coughing as much since we came upon the water, I think?' \n'Possibly,' said grandfather Hermippos. \n'I am sorry to hear that the little girl is sickly,' said Aristotle. 'What \nprecisely may be the matter?' \n'She has trouble fetching enough breath at times,' said the grand-\nfather. 'Her breathing is laboured, and she hangs down her head with \nthe effort to get air. Her breath makes strange noises in her chest, and \nshe coughs a good deal.' \n156 \n\n\nTAKING SHIP FOR THE ISLANDS \n'And when Philokleia has one of the worst spasms, then she will \npuke.' The mother seemed so interested in the little girl's case that \nshe omitted the formality of her veiled state. Indeed, with all of us so \ncheek-by-jowl the strictness of a woman's quarters was harder to \nmaintain. 'Sir' - she turned her veiled head to Aristotle - 'are you a \ndoctor? Can you do something for her perhaps?' \n'I am a physician in a sense, though not a public practitioner,' said \nAristotle. 'Does the child cough blood?' \n'Oh, no.' \n'And is the coughing and the labour in getting breath worse in \ncertain seasons?' \n'Indeed, yes. When the summer comes and the dust flies around \nLaurion, or in the winter when the worst of the rains and fogs come. \nWhen the smoke from the smelters blows over us.' \n'Then there is reason for much hope,' said Aristotle. 'This is an \nasthma, and the condition might be cured or at least alleviated by \nchange of air and water. You are going to Kos?' \n'Precisely so,' said the old man. 'On the child's account. We hope \nthe island of \nHippokrates and the doctors there may do something for \nher.' \n'You could hardly do better,' said Aristotle. 'And perhaps the \nyoung lady is hungry right now, and would do us the honour of \nsharing some of our provisions? Are you hungry, my child?' \n'Oh yes, I am,' said little Philokleia with confidence, and she \ndeigned to take a barley cake from Aristotle's hand. 'Say \"thank you\" \nto the gentleman,' her mother commanded, but Philokleia had \nalready said 'thank you' like a perfectly well-bred child. She ate the \nflat barley loaf with visible pleasure, though she declined anything \nelse at present. Aristotle and Phokon and Parmenion regaled \nthemselves on barley loaves, cheese, olives and some dried fruit. The \nsight of other people eating made me feel less than sturdy. I tried to \ndistract myself, but it was hard to know where to look. The flapping \nsail, the moving mast, the rising and falling waters - all of these were \n157 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nproductive of unease. 1 felt some slight mean satisfaction in finding \nthat the boy Sosios belonging to the newcomer Philokhoros was \nseized with internal distraction and misery as 1 had been before. \nThe others ate - all those who cared to - and sat about in postures \nof relaxation, in so far as our cramped quarters would allow it. In a \ncalmer moment the sailors rigged us up our awning again to protect \nagainst the midday sun, and we flew along, our hair and cloaks (and, \nin the case of \nthe lady, her veil) blowing in the breeze. Doris' dog now \nyapped every now and then to let us know it was alive, though it \nseemed at first to have been astounded by its change of condition. \nDoris promised to muzzle it, tying its jaws together so it could not \nbark but only whine. She pitied the animal as she did so, and sat \nbeside it, throwing it a word now and then. \n'Going well,' said the sailor. 'The wind favours us. Look, to the \nsouth you can see the islands.' \n1 looked drearily but could descry only the faintest smudges of \nblue \nagainst the lighter blue of sky. \n'We're lucky in the wind,' said the captain. 'This time of \nyear you \ncan get the choppy Etesian winds, or even a sudden fierce Boreas, \nroaring like a bear out of \nthe north -' \n'Really?' the grandfatherly Hermippos exclaimed. 'I should have \nthought the wind from the north was for winter. Surely this is the best \nseason for travelling by sea?' \n'Not saying it isn't - though the best month is last month. The \nEtesiai rule the dog-days. Now, on land you'd welcome such a wind \nas a cooling breeze, but at sea the north-west winds can stir up the \nwaters something fearful, chopping up the waves so you cannot land. \nNot uncommon in the Kyklades in summer. Just occasional, there's \na hot wind from the south, from Africa - I've known it to bring sand \nwith it and fling it on the water and the ships.' \n'Yet,' said Aristotle, 'I have travelled these waters before, and we \nseem to be making good time at present, with little to complain of. \nCalm sea, good breeze and pleasant day.' \n158 \n\n\nTAKING SHIP FOR THE ISLANDS \n'Right,' said the sailor. 'Our good captain here, he makes wise use \nof both rowers and sail. Saves the rowers. And he gives us proper \nbreaks too.' \nIt was true. Two rowers were off at any given time, save when \ncoming into or leaving a port. These two usually slept or at least lay \nfull-length in the hold. As the working rowers were each at their oar \nand had to use energy and breath for their rowing, they could join in \nconversation only in short bursts. They were not held back by any \nshyness, it struck me. And they were not subservient to the captain or \nto us. For all this talk of \ncalm sea and pleasant breeze, I lay there in a \nstupor, with the water boiling and rioting below my head. \nAs evening approached we made landfall of a kind - an island or \nislet heaving into our view. \n'There's where we'll spend the night,' said the captain. 'We can \nbeach the boat when we've caught our supper. Now boys, fish!' \nThe two sailors at the back put up their oars. One reached for a net \nand the other for a fishing hook. Soon they were using all their skill to \nget the fish out of the sea and into our boat, encouraged by the other \nrowers, who grinned and expressed envy or disparagement. I \ngathered the men took it in turns to engage in this pastime which also \nmeant supper. The two sailors were crafty at the work, and we arrived \nin the small deserted harbourage with enough creatures of the deep \nto feed us all. Not that I was going to need very much feeding, but I \nwas delighted to step on solid ground again. So was the slavewoman's \ndog, which was allowed to run - or rather to limp - around a bit, \nattached to the end of a long rope, which the stumbling Doris \nfaithfully held. \n'Here's the oil, men,' said the captain, tossing his sailors a jar of \noil \nfor ablutions, and the sailors took their strigils and scraped away the \ndirt, sea spray and salt sweat of \ntheir day. They romped about a bit as \nthey did so, laughing. It was like being in a gymnasium. (The women \nwere made to sit aside and not look.) Clean and refreshed, these \nsailors quickly created a fire from their well-defended firepot, and \n159 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nused their neat galley to cook us all a meal offresh seafood. We sat on \nland, on pieces of cloth strewn about the beach and boulders, and \ntook our meal - or at least the others did - in relative comfort. The \nnight was mild, and the shore sandy enough to make for easy \nsleeping. \nThe next day went as that first day had done, although now I was \nmuch better and able to sit up and converse, and even to begin to eat \nlike other people. Again the sailors (a different pair) went a-fishing \nover the boat's side, and again we landed on an island for dinner and \na night's free lodging. I was hungry by this time and took full \nadvantage of \nthe fish the men had caught. As I looked at my sea bass \nwith its row of sharp teeth and its reproachful grilled eye, I thought: \n'This morning this fish intended to eat with those teeth, and not to be \neaten'. Had I fallen into the ocean when I was sick, this sharp-toothed \ncreature could have eaten me. It seemed strange that I had won. \n'You see,' said the sailor to me - the one who had spoken to me at \nSounion - 'you see the beneficence of \nPoseidon to us!' \n'You would pay a fortune for such a fish dinner in Athens,' chimed \nin his rowing companion. 'The area around Peiraieus is nearly fished \nout. Poor little tiddlers in the markets at high prices.' \n'And think,' continued the first sailor, 'how much harder it is to \nfind food on a land journey, and how easy here. The gods are \ngracious. This is a good life, the life on the sea, for free men.' \n'You are all free men,' I observed. It was plain that, though stripped \nfor action, none of \nthem carried any of \nthe badges of \nslavery. Nor did \nthe captain insult or beat them. Moreover, they could not have used \nthe oil and strigils had they not been free, slaves being forbidden to \nengage in gymnasium exercises or to cleanse themselves in that noble \nmanner. \n'Certainly we are free!' exclaimed my friend of \nPoseidon's temple, \nwith some indignation. 'I worked for the navy - we were manning the \nships for Alexander when he transported all those troops to Asia. We \nare free Athenian citizens, who fight for their country.' \n160 \n\n\nTAKING SHIP FOR THE ISlANDS \n'But you did not fight as a soldier,' 1 mused. \n'No, sir. We are all poor men. You must know you can be a soldier \nfor Athens only if you can afford your own sword, shield and helmet \n- it's too expensive for many men. We sailors can work with our own \nbodies merely - and an oar costs three drakhmai.' \n'Not so cheap, neither,' his mate stuck in. 'Three days' complete \npay. If \nyou get paid. And of course in the navy you work for half-pay \nand don't get paid off till the end - if \nyou're still alive.' \n'But it's possible to buy your oar,' said the first sailor. 'It was our \nvolunteering to row and fight against Persia that saved Athens - and \nmade it impossible to deny us our full place as citizens. Where would \nAthens be without her naval power? And it is a good life, for any man \ncurious to see the world and not wishful to live his life in the clay of \nthe field.' \n'How strange,' 1 responded, really struck by this. 1 had always \nthought of rowing as the condemnation of the poorest of men, a \nbitter, tough job which anyone would avoid who could. 'You have \nsuch a hard life at sea, too,' 1 mused. 'I should think you would soon \nget enough of it. Like Odysseus, who was glad to walk into the \nhinterland until he found people who could not recognise what an oar \nwas and thought it was a winnowing fan.' \n'I know the Odyssey, too,' said my sailor. 'And I think that is a \nridiculous tacked-on story about King Odysseus. What would he ever \nneed a winnowing fan for? He's not going to work like a peasant on \nthe threshing-floor, separating the grain from the chaff. No, he was a \nking, the ruler of \nIthaka. As a king, he knew how to sail and row and \nswim. Good Odysseus was a nautes, like ourselves. Now, things like \nhoeing and winnowing are dull hard work - hard and sweaty. And \nyou just stand there and stand there - you don't get anywhere. \nWhereas, here's me - at my oar I pull and off I go!' \n'An interesting view,' said Aristotle. \n'Always somewhere to go, always something to explore. New things \nto see. And it's good exercise,' the sailor added, turning to me. 'Sir, \n161 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nyou should try it some time on this voyage for the fun of \nthe thing. We \nsailors, we're the backbone of \nAthens now, for we make it possible for \nall the rest of \nyou to send and receive goods. Here we've got not only \nyourselves - all of you wanting to get somewhere - but we have the \ncargo of \nolive oil. So the rich people of \nMykonos, Delos and Rheneia \ncan sop their greens in the best oil of \nAttika!' \n'There is truth in that,' said Aristotle. 'It may be that such wide \ncommerce is going to be of increasing importance. The opening of \nthe navy to the poorer citizens has made many more men skilled in \nseamanship. The bad thing is that it takes them away from their \ncountry, and from settled living on the land. Your work is hard, but I \ndare say you will never find yourselves workless.' \n'Aye, I'm bringing up my son the same,' said the nautes. 'War or \npeace, he should do well enough. Now that Alexander has disbanded \nmost of his big war fleet, there's more than enough really big ships \ngoing begging. It's possible to fit one up and start a passenger and \nfreight service, carrying three or four hundreds of \npeople in one ship, \nall the way from Syrakousai in Sikilia, say, to Byzantion. In a few \nyears, mark my words, we'll have a shipping service for travel the like \nof which you've never seen before. Best for my son to stay \nindependent. I'm hoping him and me can get a boat of \nour own. Even \na small boat gets passengers. You don't have to have one of those \ngreat hulks that carries hundreds of people, or many talents' weight \nof \ngoods. People will always have reasons to move across the waters.' \n162 \n\n\nx \n==;:9,_,:;e== \nc)\"--\"G \nDelos \nThe next day was much like that first day on the ocean, and I was \nless and less disturbed by the motion of \nthe boat. Again we plunged \nthrough the waves and stopped at an island, where we ate outdoors \nand slept on the ground beneath the stars. I was curiously reminded \nof my childhood, and how happy I was when the hot weather came \nand the whole family moved outside to the yard, or up to the roof, \nto sleep. That was when my father was alive, and even before the \nbirth of Theodoros, when my father was merry and would tell \nstories as we lay in the dark. Now I was a man, travelling far from \nmy family, but those were the same stars, brighter and more \nluminous here than in Athens. \n'We're making good progress,' the captain told us all. 'Winds and \ncurrents have favoured us. To oars, men, and here's for the taverns of \nMykonos and the girls of Rheneia!' \nI took a short tum at rowing, just to have something novel to do, \nwhen we were in what the sailor told me was 'a mild patch' of sea. I \nstill got my oar stuck in the wave from time to time (to the amuse-\nment of \nthe sailors) as well as hitting my knee and then, strangely, my \nchin, with the handle of the oar. Yet I began to see the attraction of \n163 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \ncontributing to the motion, and at least I did not commit the major \ncrime of a rower and lose an oar. All morning, we rowed while the \nwind was wrong; later the sail bellied above us, but it had to be taken \nin. At dusk we were still in a waste of \nwaters. \n'Make a push,' the captain said. 'Safe enough from rocks here-\nabouts, and the moon will help us - take spells, lads, and we'll push \non till morning.' \nSo we did not land anywhere, but went on and on through the \ndarkness. Not an absolute darkness, for the moon rose eventually and \nstayed with us for a long time, throwing her white track upon the sea. \nWhen you got used to her light, it was almost like day. Beside her \nshone another of the heavens' great wanderers, bright above us, \nseeking its reflection in the waters. It glowed amid thousands of \ngold \nand silver stars. We went on climbing hills of water, up and down, \nsome of us sleeping and some of us watching. The sailors took it in \nturns to sleep; each pair would fall into slumber almost as soon as \nthey set down the oars and lay down. The little girl lay quiet in her \nmother's lap and Miltiades snored, but Aristotle and I watched with \npleasure the great calm and blazing beauty of \nthe sky. \nWhen morning dawned the view had changed. The great golden \nsun cautiously began to show itself, first as a thin silver and then as \na gold bar, and then the eastern clouds were streaked with light \nand burst into radiance. And within that light I saw in the \ndistance, but not a far distance, what seemed a host of islands, all \nrimmed and flowing with gold. The new light bursting out of the \nEast poured over these islands, and they, like happy isles in some \nancient tale, almost sang in the morning of their refreshed and \ngolden beauty. It was as if one were always going to come home \nhere, and had always been home here, and there could be no place \nmore welcoming. \n'The first of \nthe Kyklades,' said the captain cheerfully. 'Fine sight, \neh? The big one to the left is Andros, then you can make out Tenos \njust beyond, and Syros to your right. All these islands of \nthe Kyklades, \n164 \n\n\nDELOS \nthe Big Circle, are like pieces of a great wheel going around Delos. \nWe'll keep Syros on the right as we head for Delos.' \n'Can there be anything more lovely?' I said to Aristotle, as we \nwatched the sun rise together. 'It is as if everything were gold, \nincluding the sky itself.' \n'Yes - the fine effect of \ncolour, which is the manifestation of light. \nSuch a sight as this,' he added thoughtfully, 'proves my theory that \nmany great objects in nature, perhaps all, are not solid and indivisible \nbut transparent.' \n'What do you mean?' \n'Well, you know that the sky or the sea are not one colour. Each \nchanges all the time - that is the work of \nlight on them. What we want \nto see, what our eyes search for, is the visible, which we know only as \ncolour of \nsome kind - or as darkness, deprivation of \nvisibility. The eye \nsearches for the visible, and hates being confronted with the invisible \nonly, with impenetrable and indivisible darkness. Colour is bestowed \nby light. Water and air are not coloured in themselves, but they let the \nlight through. Or they let the light happen, because fire or something \nlike it is present within the transparent object. Objects, which are \ndiaphanous, make themselves actual through light.' \nI was dazed by this. 'You mean that the sky is not blue but has \nblueness as a result of \nthe light?' \n'Quite so - and certainly the sky is not always blue. Look at it \nnow!' \nAnd indeed the sky was white and gold and crimson at that \nmoment. \n'Air, like water, is the splendid medium of colour, the great \ntransparency. We live in a transparent world, Stephanos, constantly \nchanging, mutable in manifestations of constant light -\nthough \nwhether light is just the emanation from something else, like the sun, \nor whether it is a function or activity within things, I am not at all \nsure. But I tend to believe that light is not enclosed in any body, not \neven the sun. I am most inclined to believe that there is a divine fire \n165 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nin the universe, in which all living things share. After all, in so far as \nwe are living beings we retain an original heat.' \nHearing him changed my sense of \nbeing, disconcertingly. It was as \nif I now saw myself within a translucent crystal. Everything seemed \ntoo changeable to be comfortable - nothing solid but all interfused \nwith or emanating the light that made all objects change. If \neverything \nwere diaphanous, a veil through which something else pierced, then \nall things seemed less substantial. \n'I don't see,' I said hesitantly, 'how we can feel easy in such an idea \nof things. Why, what you say seems to take away the solidity of \nsubstance. Your world is shifting and restless. It is hard to see exactly, \nhard to measure and define, if \neverything keeps changing.' \n'Good, Stephanos. It is hard to see exactly. Yet we are creatures \nwho must see, who long to see, who search always for the visible - and \nthe visible is the world of great transparencies and modulations.' \n'This seems different from what you usually talk about,' I thought, \nremembering the catalogue of plants and animals and the good \nworkaday shelves and tables in the Lykeion. 'All the things you talked \nabout before, things you collect - plants and molluscs. Are they an \norder or a disorder?' \n'Oh, an order - and a great one. There is Mind in the universe, \nStephanos. I feel it - as we felt it last night watching the stars and \nplanets, and now watching the light burst over us and all this wheel \nof \nislands coming into glorious colour. Everywhere there is Intellect-\nmanifest both in order and energy. I told you plants and molluscs do \nnot make ideas, nor form. We have the privilege of our own minds \nwhich participate actively in this great ordering. The mind is notable \nfor two activities. First, it becomes all things - you become those \nislands you are looking at. That is the human mind of \nthe individual, \nsubject to disease and death. But Mind also is more active - it makes \neverything, makes all things as a poet makes his poem. Mind is the \nmaker of \nwhat is. So mind or intelligence - even in you, in me, in this \ncaptain here - is like light. Light is activity making possible colours \n166 \n\n\nDELOS \ninto actual energies, what we call real colours. Mind - what we call \nintelligence - is in essence an activity and not a thing. As light is an \nactivity and not a thing.' \nMy own senses and intellect were reeling from this passionate and \nbeautiful and very puzzling discourse taking place within the midst of \nthe wheel of \nlight. It was as if a prophet of \nApollo, or Apollo himself, \nhad spoken to me in some strange place in a comer of \nthe dawn. \nFortunately, perhaps, the dawn completed itself and the sky settled \ninto blue and the day became more normal. The sailors toiled and \nsweated, the little girl wanted the pot, the passengers prepared their \nbreakfast, and the ship drove on. I had expected that the sailing would \nget easier as we got in among the islands, but that was not the case. \n'Wind's changed!' grumbled the captain. And it had - some wind was \nnow coming from the north, and pushing us about in an uncom-\nfortable way. We proceeded a little more slowly and spent that night \nin a port at the tip of \nTen \nos. The next day we made our way along the \ncoast of Tenos, sitting under our awning under a hot sky. Directly \nunder the coast of \nthe island the going was easier, but then we broke \nfree of \nTen \nos and were headed for Mykonos. As we were in the open \nwater, the wind blew ever more strongly. 'Etesian,' the captain \nexplained resignedly. Small choppy waves fretted on top of \nthe ocean. \nSeasickness became a real possibility again, and some of us suc-\ncumbed. I did not - not quite. The breeze off the sea mitigated the \nheat a little. Then the wind became gusty, and the sailors began to \nmutter about a possible storm. \n'Get that stuff out of the way,' said the captain with a con-\ntemptuous look at our awning. 'Can't have that flapping about like an \nold lady's laundry!' \nWe had to crouch under nothing in particular as the spray began to \nshoot up over the side of our little ship. The waves swelled and \nseemed to be coming from two directions at once. \n'Oh cannot we make it to land?' implored the little girl's \ngrandfather. 'The land seems so near us!' \n167 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'That's a landlubber for you!' said the first oarsman. \n'Yes,' said the captain. 'Landsmen always think the danger lies in \nthe waves, and safety in the shore. Whereas more often than not it's \nquite the other way - the shore has rocks, which are more dangerous \nthan tempests, and the wave'll do ye no harm at all. And if you just \nlook at Mykonos you'll see what I mean about rocks.' \nI did. Mykonos seemed to be nothing but great brown boulders. \n'They say,' said Miltiades, 'that the giants that Herakles killed are \nburied on Mykonos, and that the stones are their weapons. Either \nthat, or the stones were put on the island to hold the giants down and \nkeep them from rising again.' \nThe little girl wanted to hear more about Herakles and the giants, \nso we beguiled her and ourselves by telling the story with as many \nelaborations as we could. I could see the captain was troubled, \nprincipally by the lateness of the hour, when landfall seemed so \ntreacherous. But at last, with a shout of \ntriumph, he got us into a cove \non the south coast of Mykonos, where he could rest the vessel on a \nsandy beach. 'We'll take you to Delos tomorrow, if \nthe sea's right,' he \nsaid, 'and then on to somewheres for the night, but we must come \nback to Mykonos harbour to deliver our oil next day, before we go on.' \nProvisions were slender that night. 'No good trying to fish here,' \nsaid one of \nthe sailors. 'Too late - and the sea around Delos is bad for \nfish. Might as well go a-fishing in an old dry pot. Plenty of \nfishermen \naround, but running passengers is half their work.' \nWe slept well, however, in the ship or on the beach, unperturbed \nby the wind, which abated towards dawn. \nIn the morning we travelled the short distance to Delos, birthplace \nof \nApollo - the short and choppy distance. We strained our eyes as we \ndrew along the skinny brown island to catch first sight of the great \nTemple of Apollo and the sacred precincts of Delos. Soon we were \nskimming into the Sacred Harbour, with quantities of \nother shipping, \nand beyond the orchard of \nmasts and prows we could see the marble \npillars of the graceful temples. \n168 \n\n\nDELOS \nWe stepped off the boat on to the mole and walked to shore. We \nhad to look smartly about to find how to get through the crowds. The \narea near the boat-landing stage was an area of \nmarkets, even a slave-\nmarket. Directly in front of us, in a temporary enclosure, a group of \nnaked men and two naked women ran wearily around in the heat, in \na perpetual circle. Thus they could be throughly inspected by \nprospective - and critical - purchasers. Behind this scene was a \njumble of small shops, and then some grander houses. Behind these \nagain stretched the brown and boulder-strewn hill of Kynthos. A \nslender river course ran down its slopes, but the stream was a mere \ntrickle or suggestion in the heat of \nhigh summer. \n'The island is not green and beautiful as I imagined,' I said to \nAristotle. 'It seems harsh and brown and dry.' \n'Not surprising in high summer, Stephanos. But Delos was always \nsmall and dry. Indeed, you remember in the \"Hymn to Apollo\" the \ngoddess Leto herself \ncomments on the fact when she comes there, but \nadds that sacrifices to her divine son will ensure sustenance for the \nfuture populace of Delos.' \n'And so Artemis and Apollo were born here. But their mother \nwouldn't have come to Delos if she could have gone anywhere else,' \nsaid Parmenion, unexpectedly joining in the conversation. It was \nmiraculous! Parmenion had began to speak like a rational being, as \nsoon as we set foot on Apollo's island. I was astounded, but Aristotle \nreplied in normal soothing tones. \n'True, as the story says it was Hera's jealousy that chased Leto from \nplace to place when she was great with Zeus' child. Only rocky Delos \nwould receive her - some say because Delos was Leto's own sister, \nturned to stone and wandering in the sea.' \n'And Delos was a wandering island then, but Zeus made it stable, \ntied to columns of adamant. There's an excellent poem by Pindar \nthat goes something like that, but I cannot recall it,' I contributed. 'A \nvery holy place. And holy Delos has been a part of \nAthens in a way, \nsince the Delian League was founded after the Persian wars.' \n169 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'True,' said Miltiades. 'Athens was the leader of that League, and \nthe Treasury of \nthe Delian League was taken to Athens. You must not \nimagine everyone here in the Kyklades was pleased about that! Delos \nis a centre of \nthe Aegean, and a port for every ship from the east, even \nfrom Thrake and the Black Sea beyond.' \n'I can see by the amount of shipping here in the harbour,' I \nobserved, 'how much commerce there must be here.' \n'Indeed. The island is well furnished for men of commercial \ninterests, not just for pilgrims. Some of \nthe best buildings you see are \nleskhes - club houses for traders. Here we can meet with men of the \nIonian coast and the islands and sell our marble. Not that trade is as \ngood these days as it was, because of \nthe war.' \n'Come, men,' said Aiskhines. 'We make our obeisance to Apollo \nand then we can look for provisions and a place to rest. But who will \nguard the ship?' \n'I will,' said Philokhoros. He cast a glance at the Sacred Harbour \nwithout too much interest, his profile exquisite against the \nbackground oftemple. 'I have seen Delos before,' he explained. 'It's \nnot a place very rich in entertainments. I'll stay by the ship. And little \nSosios will keep me company.' Little Sosios the slave looked rather \nwistfully towards the bright buildings and the throng of \npeople. \n'Good, then,' said Aiskhines 'We shall let all off who are going \nashore, and then we'll take the vessel to the other harbour at the Bay \nof Skardana around the point. It is less crowded. We sailors should \nmake haste. It is decreed by long custom that sailors coming to Delos \nshould give thanks here. And those who have made a vow and are \nsaved from storm and wreck must whip themselves before the Horn \nAltar. So let's be off.' \nThe passengers who wished to see the temple disembarked at the \nSacred Harbour, leaving Aiskhines and his men to pilot our ship \naround the point to the next haven. Once on land, we stopped to gape \na while, and then turned left and began to wander slowly up the broad \nmarble way, drawn to the beauties of \nthe great Sanctuary. We passed \n170 \n\n\nDELOS \nthe Propylaia, the beautiful entryway, and came upon the ancient \nHouse of \nthe Naxians. We knew what it was, because a man ofNaxos \nwas boasting to his pilgrim companions of the ancient beauty of the \nplace. 'Probably the original temple,' he proclaimed. 'Note the \nbeauty and antiquity, and the pleasing design of the lovely interior \ncolonnade. Naxos marble. Now on the north side you will see the \ncolossal statue of \nApollo, a magnificent and ancient work. All \nmarble \nof Naxos.' \n'You are patriotic today, my friend Aristodamos,' said Aristotle in \na teasing and affectionate tone of \nvoice. \nThe tall bearded man who had been acting as a guide whirled about \nand saw Aristotle. 'My friend!' he said, throwing his arms about him. \n'At last you have arrived! I got your message - of course you are \ncoming to visit me in Naxos, with all your party.' \n'That would be a great honour,' said Aristotle, turning to introduce \nus formally - all but Miltiades who had gone his own way. At this \nmoment the captain rejoined us, and was introduced also. \n'Pleased to make your acquaintance sir,' said Aiskhines. 'Me and \nmy men will be getting on, as we should first make an acknowledge-\nment at the Horn Altar. We already took the boat around to the Bay \nof Skardana and we will meet you there later. Little harbour, nearer \nthe Sacred Lake, the pool they call \"The Hoop\". Before dusk falls \nwe'll need to find a place to doss down tonight. Would you, sir, wish \nto go to Rheneia? Delos lodgings are high-priced - not that they aren't \nbad on Mykonos too.' \n'Rheneia sounds best,' said Aristotle. 'I don't think we will try to \nstay overnight on Delos. Expensive, as you say, and very crowded.' \n'It is very crowded,' admitted Aristodamos. 'I have been staying \nwith a friend whose house is packed full. I am leaving today for \nNaxos, so I cannot offer hospitality for this night, to my great regret. \nYou will easily find space in Rheneia. Please promise, however, friend \nAristotle, that tomorrow, and no later, you and your party will set out \nto visit me in Naxos.' \n171 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'That sounds agreeable,' said Aristotle. 'I accept with pleasure. All \nof us - my student, my friend Stephanos here, my slave and 1 - we \nshall be grateful, if you can take us in.' \n'A great pleasure,' said Aristodamos. 'I live up in the hills ofNaxos, \nso 1 shall send someone to the waterfront to conduct you.' \n'I suppose,' 1 suggested, 'that Delos is so crowded because there \ncannot be many houses here - not since the Purification. When, in \norder to keep Delos and the home of holy Apollo from the plague, \nAthens removed all the ancestral tombs to Rheneia, and the people \nleft Delos and had to settle in Rheneia.' \n'Yes,' said Aristodamos. 'And it is forbidden to be born or to die \non Delos.' \n'That does seem hard,' 1 said. 'A woman may know that she is \npregnant, and by taking thought avoid the place. But what man or \nwoman can tell certainly when he or she will die? 1 suppose it was a \nnecessary purity, for Apollo's sake.' \n'And,' added Aristotle, with a smile, 'it is certainly a good way to \nkeep settlers at bay. For human settlements have a great deal of \nbirth \nand death in them. If \nAthens wanted total control, she could have \nfound no better scheme.' \n'How do people contrive not to die here?' 1 asked curiously. \nAristodamos laughed. 'Well, of course only the healthy dare to \ncome - and most women don't stay on Delos. There are a few \nworkshops and so on. Lots of \nvisitors. The only people who try to stay \nare traders, men in the prime oflife, who can afford club-house prices \nat the leskhes of \nvarious associations. But if \na visiting gentleman gets \nflushed, or pale, or has a cough, we spirit him away at once, you may \nbelieve!' \n'So it is a healthy place - by law,' said Aristotle, smiling. \n'Yes, you might put it like that. Excellent for the slave market! No \nslave-monger would dare to bring here for sale a slave in truly poor \ncondition, for fear he or she might die on this island and get the slave \nmerchant into terrible trouble for sacrilege. \"Bought in Delos\" is, you \n172 \n\n\nDELOS \nmight say, a warrant of \nsoundness. Uncommonly fine, is it not? I hope \nyou are struck by the place?' \n'Oh, yes, wonderful,' I said. I could not count on Parmenion to say \nanything, and he did not, though a comment from him would have \nbeen appropriate. \n'You should know that the original foundation of \nDelos in its glory \nis really Naxian,' said Aristodamos. 'I know it very well. Come along \nwith me, then, and see the beauties of the place. Here is the Stoa of \nthe Naxians.' \nI had to admit it was an impressive building, looking out over the \nsea. There is a colonnade on two side wings facing the sanctuary. The \narea in front of it is full of \nvotive offerings. \n'And here is something you will like, Stephanos,' said Aristotle. \n'Here is an Athenian monument - the bronze Palm Tree dedicated \nby Nikias, the Athenian general, over eighty years ago. Made in \nAthens.' \nWe continued in a leisurely way, looking at the sights, strolling past \nthe Stoa of \nthe Naxians, to the Artemision in honour of \nApollo's sister \nand the temple or temples of \nApollo. There is an old one built in the \ntime ofPeisistratos and a new one - the Temple of \nthe Athenians and \nnot at all Naxian. It is very grand, made of Pentelic marble from \nAttika, and has seven statues and a great bronze statue of \nApollo. As \nwell as all these temples, there are numerous old and charming public \nbuildings, the Bouleuterion of the Delians and the Prytaneion, since \nDelos had the appurtenances of a state. \n'Now,' said Aristodamos, 'here is one of the great sights of Delos, \nas we tum from the sanctuary of \nApollo towards the other harbour at \nSkardana. Here is the Avenue of \nLions - all carved in Naxian marble. \nA sight of which you must have heard! They form a kind of \nguard to \nthe \"Hoop\" or Sacred Lake, opposite.' \nIndeed, there is what first appears an endless row of ferocious \nlions, to startle the visitor. These carved beasts are very ancient and \nvery odd. They are all in the same posture but each one is different \n173 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n- you can see details of their ribs, their manes and tails. They roar \nin their silent marble power, above the stillness of the Sacred Lake, \nwhich I thought the most beautiful and moving thing in the \nloveliness of Delos. There are birds and the soft rustle of trees and \nrushes, and the gentle sound of little ripples of sweet water - so \nunlike the thunder of the sea-waves. And beside the lake there are \nreal palm trees - one great and beautiful one always called 'the Tree \nof Leto'. \n'For as you know,' said Aristodamos, 'the goddess Leto had a \nterrible birthing. Hera kept the goddess of \nchildbirth from coming to \nher aid, so her womb would not open. Leto was in labour for nine \ndays and nights, and she held to the palm tree in her pain, until she \nwas delivered of the Holy Twins. Immediately the island was flooded \nwith golden light and water and beautiful birds and flowers!' \n'So the island then properly became Delos - that is \"visible\",' said \nAristotle. 'You see how well that fits in with my theory about light and \ntransparency, Stephanos. This is the visible place of the birth of \ninvisible light. Light that makes itself known through the appearance \nof \nother things, and gives colour and what we call beauty to things of \nearth.' \n'This island, then,' said Parmenion thoughtfully, 'should be called \n\"the place where everything becomes clear\". I wish it would!' \nWe were still looking at the swans and taking a cool rest under the \ngreen trees by the Sacred Lake when a well-grown young man came \nthrough the trees. His hand was held above his brow to ward off the \nsun and assist his eyes, as if \nhe were looking intently for some object. \nHis face brightened when he saw us. \n'Good sirs,' he said, approaching, 'if! may be so bold as to address \nyou. I am the slave of \na lady called Kardaka, who is mistress of \na poor \nlame slavewoman called Doris. I think one of you gentlemen is \nAristotle? Of \nAthens?' \n'I am he,' said Aristotle. \n'My mistress knows you kindly urged the captain to let Doris on \n174 \n\n\nDELOS \nboard your ship. She - the lady Kardaka - is very earnest in her desire \nto speak with you about this matter and thank you in person. As a \nlady cannot come searching for gentlemen, I must beg you to meet \nher in one of \nthe pilgrims' rooms here. Would you be so kind?' \n'Well, that was a trifle, and we have other engagements-' \n'Oh sir! Please do not make me go back with a refusal!' He spread \nhis palms wide and looked at us in a beseeching manner. 'It will not \ntake long, and my mistress will be so pleased. And she would likely \ntake it out on my back if I were to fail of \nmy errand. ' \n'Ah, well .. .' Aristotle arose resignedly, and I with him. \n'This mistress Whoever with the unlikely name must have a terrible \ntemper,' said Aristodamos. \n'Oh, gentlemen, don't be harsh. She is a kind lady in the main, \nthough a foreign sort - a freedwoman of part Phoenician stock, she \nsays herself. Who knows, maybe her name is Karshadasht in her old \nhome? But no lady likes her will crossed. Come, let me guide you - it \nis on the other side of \nthe Sacred Harbour.' \nThe adroit slave manoeuvred us swiftly through the flux of \ncrowds \ncoming from the harbour and conducted us back towards to the foot \nof \nMount Kynthos, where there were some houses and hostelries, not \nas grand as the temples or the leskhes on the other side near the \nSanctuary. He took us into one of these low brown buildings, a \nhostelry of \nsorts. 'No need to trouble the boy or the slave,' he decided \nfor us. 'They can take refreshment just outside, in the shade. But I \nshall ask you two gentlemen to come in here.' Leaving Parmenion \nand Phokon without, this bustling slave took us into one of \nthe rooms \nevidently available (at a price) to allow travellers and persons on \nbusiness the opportunity to rest and enjoy refreshment and \nconversation. \nThe room was enlivened by tapestries and cushions, and some fine \ncups and a wine pourer on a low table. The slave busied himself in \nsetting up a sheet of \nfine fabric to divide the apartment. In a moment \nwe understood that this was a drapery of propriety, as a tall female \n175 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nglided in and slipped behind the sheet. 'The lady Kardaka!' the slave \nannounced. Propriety's divisive curtain was almost transparent, so \nwe could still make out the femininity of this lady's bust, and the \ncrocus-coloured wrap of silk draping over her white garments, so \nsweetly flowing in their soft folds that they must have been of \nthe best \nlinen. \n'So. Sir Aristotle,' the lady Kardaka began. 'Pray, gentlemen, make \nyourselves at ease. I shall sit, and you do the same.' She sat upon the \nbackless chair the attentive slave gave to her, while we too sat on \nsimilar chairs on our side of \nthe thin partition. 'Give them something \nto drink, for pity's sake,' she ordered and the anxious male slave \npoured us wine and water, and offered sweet almonds. \n'Shall I speak to them for you, madam?' queried this assiduous \nservant. \n'No,' she replied. 'Retire to the door, and wait!' The obedient man \ndisappeared. \n'If \nyou don't mind, gentlemen,' she said, 'I dispense with passing \nmy words on to a slave to repeat to you, as it makes everything so \nslow. You should drink slow, however, it is good for the body in the \nmiddle of such a hot day. Eat a little, drink gently, and recreate.' We \ntried to do as she wished, as politeness demanded. 'I can see you are \nimpatient to be off. Who can blame you? This room is warm and \nstuffy, while you have the beauties of \nDelos to see. Have you been up \nMount Kynthos?' \n'No, we haven't,' I replied shortly. \n'You should really, once it gets cooler. The Inopos river runs down \nfrom that mountain, and how it feeds the Sacred Lake you will note. \nThere's a fine breeze up there and you can view many islands from \nthe top. Many, many persons go up to see the shrine ofHerakles. But \ndo wait till the sun abates a little.' She fanned herself gently with a \npiece of cloth. \n'So hot,' she said. 'That is why I leave Peiraieus at this time of \nyear. \nToo hot. Athens - much too hot. Here at least there are sea breezes. I \n176 \n\n\nDELOS \nam staying in Rheneia, as you have, I think, heard from my woman \nDoris. I was anxious to have my Doris come to me after she had \nclosed up my house in town. We give you hearty thanks for your \nkindness to her. I hope there is some way that we can make \nrecompense. \n' \n'No recompense is necessary,' said Aristotle. 'It \nwas a mere trifle. I \nhope you and your slave are well satisfied, and we can take our \nleave -' \n'Sir - Oh, pray do not cut me off \nlike that! In what have I offended?' \nThe lady Kardaka opened her eyes so very wide that we could see \nthem through the modest curtain. She ran her fingers through her \nlong coiled hair. 'Gratitude is - I assure you my gratitude is most \nsincere. Anything for you, could I do it - any thing in the world - I \nwould.' \nThis woman reminded me of someone. I thought of \nAntigone, the \nhetaira who came to see Aristotle and then betrayed him. But in \nfigure, form and voice this woman was not very like Antigone. I put \ndown her strange effect to her being part Phoenician from Karthago, \nas her slave had more than hinted. \n'I wished,' said the woman, 'to give you some small recompense, a \npresent, in return for your kindness to Doris. The more as I have \nanother favour to beg of \nyou. I understand you have a friend in Naxos \nand are going there soon. It is over-bold to ask gentlemen of such \nimportance, but could you please take the ungainly but humble \nslavewoman Doris to that island with you? She has an errand to do \nfor me in the hinterland of Naxos. It would be such a relief to my \nmind and hers if she could join your fine ship and trustworthy crew \nagain, and be safely conveyed.' \n'I am really not in the business of arranging transport for travellers \nin the Kyklades,' Aristotle protested. \n'Oh, sir, of course it is a great piece of presumption on my part -\nI will not say on ours, for poor little Doris has as much to do with it \nas her lame dog.' The lady twitched her yellow mantle, shrugging it \n177 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nmore firmly upon her shoulders. 'But you must know it is dangerous, \nnot a little, for women to go unprotected, and our reliance on your \ngoodness is very great. Poor Doris will leave you in Naxos. So you \nwill not have to trouble yourself further. Her passage home is our \naffair.' \n'Well, if that is all-' said Aristotle impatiently. He stood up. \n'First \nthing tomorrow, at the Sacred Harbour.' \n'Oh, wonderful!' The lady threw up her hands in her joy, letting \nher mantle slip again. 'Sir, a thousand thanks! Be assured, my poor \nslavewoman will meet you tomorrow morning in the Sacred \nHarbour. And with some little gifts for you, as well as materials she \nis to deliver to one of the houses on Naxos. Of course with the fare \nfor her passage. With your good captain and crew we shall feel so \nsafe. Oh, I am overjoyed!' The lady, shrugging on her mantle once \nmore, arose, bowed deeply to us and glided out of the room, \npresumably to rejoin her slave steward who would be awaiting her \nwithout. \n'Tsk, tsk, I seem to be taken as the passengers' steward and friend,' \nsaid Aristotle. 'All I can say is, it will not be a great inconvenience. If \nthe slavewoman turns in time, then she goes - and if \nnot, not.' \n'There's something odd about these people,' I said. \n'They're partly foreign, and I think that always seems odd to you. \nBut must confess, I should not care to mingle with them.' \n'I doubt if this Kardaka is any better than she should be. Although \nI don't think there are brothels on Delos the Holy and Pure!' \n'No,' said Aristotle. 'You remember, Philokhoros said there wasn't \nmuch in the way of \nentertainment on this island.' \nWe wound our way leisurely out of \nthe precinct of lodging houses \nand towards the path that leads up to Mount Kynthos. Although both \nDelphi and Delos are sacred to Apollo, most of Delos is as unlike \nmountainous Delphi as possible, being very flat and almost at sea \nlevel. There is only one high place, the hill Kynthos. (Ridiculous to \ncall it a mountain!) I was eager to see the shrine of Herakles and to \n178 \n\n\nDELOS \ntake in the view, so I persuaded Aristotle and Parmenion to go up \nwith me; Phokon came with us. It is a short climb past a few pretty \nshrines and little temples to a breathtaking view. Even Parmenion \nseemed impressed. \n'Look! You can see the whole harbour and the temple and every-\nthing,' he said, stopping and staring back. This grand view of the \nwhole sacred site made it much easier to understand than it was on \nfirst entering the precincts. I could at last see where individual \nbuildings and places were in relation to the others. We could see \nRheneia; it has a few trees, and little homesteads, and looks much \nmore like a normal place than did Delos. Turning about I saw many \nislands around us. \n'You are standing at the centre point of \nthe Circle of \nthe Kyklades,' \nsaid Aristotle. 'Over there is Paros. Yonder, directly south-east, right \nin front of \nyou, is Naxos.' \nIt was very satisfying to be at the still centre of \nthis system of \ngolden \nislands all wheeling about us. Delos, formerly a wanderer among \nislands, slipping hither and thither, like a planet in the sky, is now the \nstill centre of the wheel, an ordering point in the midst of a serene \norder. We lingered, exclaiming at various sights, until we had had \nenough and trooped down again. The sun was descending the \nwestern sky, and if \nwe were going anywhere, even Rheneia, we had to \ndo so by water. \nBecause of the Avenue of the Lions we were confident of the \ndirection to the other harbour of Skardana, which we had picked out \nfrom the height. The modest Inopos runs out of the lake again and \ninto this delightful little harbour, a perfect semicircle surrounded by \ntight warehouses and good houses belonging to (presumably very \nhealthy) merchants. You cannot see the great Temple of \nApollo from \nhere. Skardana seemed nicely normal, with ordinary shops around it. \nThe small beast market is located here, so as not to disturb the sacred \nprecinct with cackling and bellowing. There is a small ancillary slave-\nmarket (chiefly for nurses, old women, and so on). Unsold slaves are \n179 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nmost commonly not housed in Delos, but put back on board a ship \nor ferried to a depot in Rheneia or Mykonos; by this time the slave \nmerchants had packed up their merchandise and gone off. Except for \na few forlorn sellers of \nwilting vegetables, nothing much was going on \naround the harbour. \nThe prudent Delians had built a mole or quay at Skardena, to \nprevent crowding of their rather stony beach. This useful structure \nextends a good way out into the water, on the right side of the \nharbour; it is covered with large flat stones at the top. We looked for \nour ship and spotted it away at the far end, moored with its prow to \nthe causeway, not very close to any of \nthe other ships. \nWe hailed her, but no one answered. Because of the well-built \nmole, we could walk out and scramble aboard the vessel without \ndifficulty, once Phokon had pulled a rope to make the boat come \ncloser to the mooring-place. But nobody was on board. \n'That's odd,' 1 said. 'I thought Philokhoros was going to be here.' \n'No sign of either him nor his slave,' said Phokon, looking in the \nhold amid the shipped oars, the mast and sail, and some ropes. \n'Hey, look at this!' Parmenion cried from the stem. We rushed aft. \n'Look - the galley!' He pointed. The tiles of \nthe galley were smeared \nwith crimson blood. Some splashes of \nblood had stained the wooden \nstructure of the boat itself. More blood than on the head of a dead \nhorse, or on a little monkey skull. \n'Murder!' screamed Parmenion. He turned very white, and his \nbody went stiff. Then his eyes rolled up in his head; slowly, he \ncollapsed. \n'Throw some water on him, please, Phokon,' said Aristotle. 'I think \nit is just a faint, not an epilepsy. Tell me if he starts foaming or \nconvulsing. \n' \n'Poor boy, he was getting better, too,' 1 said. \nThe shout of 'Murder!' had not gone unheard. Men from a neigh-\nbouring boat started to come towards us. And at the same moment, \nMiltiades appeared. \n180 \n\n\nDELOS \n'Oh, no!' he cried. 'Murder on the sacred island! It is forbidden to \ndie here! This is terrible - it is a blasphemy! How could you do it, how \ncould you? We shall all be subjected to dreadful penalties!' \n181 \n\n\nXI \n==~g-p~= \nd---G\" \nBlood at Delos, Flesh at Mykonos \n'We don't know that any human being has died here,' said Aristotle. \n'Let us look at the evidence.' But Miltiades did not stay to listen. \n'I must tell the authorities!' he said, rushing off. Undeterred by \nMiltiades' precipitous departure, undistracted even by Parmenion's \nfaint, Aristotle calmly proceeded to inspect the galley and the area \naround it. \n'I don't see any signs of \na bloody struggle. You must admit it would \nbe very difficult to kill a grown man in this little galley. It's barely big \nenough to crouch in, certainly not a space for two men fighting. What \nother signs can we see?' He picked up the small stove. 'Now, what's \nthis I find?' Laughing, he waved a feather above his head. \n'Man is \"an unfeathered biped\", as Plato says. The entities that \nwere killed here today were plumed. See what I found hiding under \nthe stove - an innocent feather. Ah, this place was used for a sacrifice, \nand this knife did cut - but it was a sacrifice of birds. Chickens -\ncocks, presumably - sacrificed earlier today. Most likely by some \npious sailors.' He laughed again in his relief. Then his face became \nmore sombre. \n'But it is true that the blood has been spread around to look like \n182 \n\n\nBLOOD AT DELOS, FLESH AT MYKONOS \nmurder See, here. This is where the first blood fell, but instead of \nlying in drops it has been deliberately smeared around the galley and \nthe deck area. With a sponge, I suppose, squeezed to create drops of \nblood at appropriate points - at the edge, for example. Made to \nlook as if there were a murder aboard, and a body dropped into the \nsea.' \n'And here,' I pointed out, 'some of Philokhoros' baggage has been \nsmeared with blood too and then thrown under the thwart. As if it \nhad escaped notice when the body was rolled overboard.' \n'A nice touch,' said Aristotle. 'It begins to look more like a plot. Had \nwhoever set this scene stolen the baggage or thrown it overboard, \nanybody looking at the ship might have decided that Philokhoros \nmerely went off on his own, taking his luggage with him. The bloody \nbag seems got up to make the circumstances look more suspicious.' \n'The boy's coming to,' announced Phokon. \n'Good. But - oh, the vexation. Now we certainly have to find \nPhilokhoros. I hope both he and his slave are alive and in health, but \nI have to admit they are not here.' \nAiskhines' broad friendly face, wrinkled with concern, appeared \nlooking down at us over the edge of \nhis ship. \n'What is this?' our captain demanded. 'I heard people saying there \nwas a murdered man on a ship from Peiraieus.' \n'How quickly word gets out. Remarkable,' said Aristotle drily. 'I \nbelieve, good Aiskhines, that no one has been murdered, though \nsome birds have been sacrificed. And their blood has been spread \naround to look as if a murder has happened. Now, have you seen \neither the slave-boy or Philokhoros since we left the ship?' \n'Yes. I came back after going to the Altar. I was anxious to see to \nthe Eudaimonia, and be sure it was well moored. Philokhoros was \naboard, well and hearty, but worried, he said, because his slave-boy \nhad run off. He thought Sosios must have gone to see the sights. But \nhe asked me to go after the lad, since I knew my way around Delos \nbetter and I could identify him. \n' \n183 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'There was no blood spread on the ship then?' \n'No - certainly not. I passed by the galley at that time, and I should \nsurely have noticed.' \n'I take it you couldn't find the boy.' \n'Too true. So I came back to beg the gentleman to search for \nhimself. Now he's gone too, without a word. Strange. I don't usually \nlose passengers, certainly not in this manner.' \n'Are you the captain of this ship?' A man loomed menacingly \nbehind Aiskhines, a man fully dressed in contrast to the skimpy wear \nof our captain. A man who looked as if authority had sat upon his \nbrow ever since he came of age. 'I am a magistrate of Delos,' he \nannounced almost unnecessarily. 'And I must take you into custody \nto answer questions about a murder committed here. Disgraceful! I \nwarn you, captain, it \nwill go hard with you, for this is not only a killing \nbut a blasphemy -' \n'How do you do?' said Aristotle addressing him from the ship. 'I am \nglad to meet you, citizen magistrate. The man whose ear you are \nholding is a citizen of Athens, and is totally innocent of any \nwrongdoing. \n' \n'Who are you?' enquired the magistrate ungraciously. \n'I am Aristotle, a philosopher who dwells in Athens. I am on an \nembassy for Alexander's deputy, who I know will be obliged to you \nfor any assistance you can render. It is clear to me that no murder \nwhatever took place here. The blood comes from the sacrifice of \nchickens. An alarm was raised unnecessarily.' \nThe magistrate breathed deeply. 'I should be glad to think that was \nthe case,' he said in milder tones. \n'See for yourself -' Aristotle waved the feather. 'This feather was \nfound under the stove. Blood for a sacrifice has been later smeared \nabout, perhaps accidentally. But I have every reason to believe that no \nman has been killed. A slave-boy has gone missing - the owner told \nour captain to look for him. The captain has just returned - mean-\nwhile the slave's owner (an adult citizen) has gone off, probably on \n184 \n\n\nBLOOD AT DELOS, FLESH AT MYKONOS \nhis own lawful occasions. But if \nyou could question the neighbouring \nsailors as to whether they have seen anything, it might be of great \nhelp.' \nReluctantly, the magistrate agreed to help to that extent. 1 could \nsee that he would have preferred either to clap us all into chains, or to \ngo away and do nothing more. This man was not made for com-\nplicated exertions. But at Aristotle's prompting, he questioned the \nsailors on the nearest vessels. One crew was disappointing: they had \njust come, and had seen nothing until we arrived But two sailors \nmending nets on a small fishing craft nearby were willing to speak. \n'Saw some men aboard - sailors seemingly,' they said. As to what \nthey looked like or whether the sailors on our ship might have been \nour own, they were unclear. One of \nthem said he thought the men had \n'a Phoenician look' (leaving us to puzzle what that might be). \n'I suppose,' said Aristotle, 'somebody might have borrowed this \nnice tiled galley for a sacrifice. Did you see a gentleman go off \nthe ship \n- before then or after?' \nThe first fisherman was at a stand, but asked a neighbour in \nanother boat; this man was helpful. \n'Yes,' he said calmly, disregarding the magistrate's scowls. 'I \nreckon 1 saw a gentleman leave the ship, in company with a couple \nother gentleman.' \n'Were they fighting? Quarrelling?' \n'Nothing of that sort.' \n'When was this?' \n'When the sun was still quite high in the sky. The sacrifice, that \nmust've been done later, when 1 put out for a short space. 1 came \nback, since 1 thought 1 had a passenger as wanted taking to Rheneia, \nbut they didn't show.' \n'Well,' said Aristotle, sitting on a thwart and fitting his fingertips \ntogether, 'we have this much to deal with: Philokhoros tells the \ncaptain his boy is gone. Philokhoros then has the ship to himselffor a \nwhile. Two other gentlemen come and conduct him off \n- without the \n185 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nboy. Now, the beauty of \nDelos is that it is so small, and is surrounded \nby water. It's not like another place, where a man can unobtrusively \nmove away on foot or on a donkey. If \nPhilokhoros is not in Delos, he \nhas certainly gone to some neighbouring island. To do that, he'd need \na boat. So - if the magistrate would encourage these fine citizens to \nhelp us? They live here, they own small ships, and they or their \nacquaintance would recognise and be able to identify any particular \ncraft.' \nAnd so it proved. One of the fisherman's associates who carried \npassengers to and from the Sacred Harbour recalled seeing the tall \nstranger with the beautiful nose, accompanied by two less significant \ngentlemen, leaving the Sacred Harbour at midday, 'in Nearkhos' \nboat'. Nearkhos belonged to Mykonos, and his small vessel was not \nused for long journeys; it was their considered opinion that anyone \nleaving Delos with Nearkhos must be going to Mykonos. \n'An unusually sound deduction,' said Aristotle. 'I suggest we \nfollow it up without loss of time. Good Aiskhines, ready your ship \nand your men and take us at once to Mykonos harbour. 1 know you \nwish to unload your cargo of oil, and there Stephanos and 1 shall \nsearch for Philokhoros. Meanwhile, if \nthe magistrate here would post \na notice about the boy Sosios, we shall have done our duty in that \ndirection. And 1 am sure, sir, that you must be glad to find that your \nproblem has apparently departed from Delos, and that our ship will \nfollow.' \nAristotle was certainly discerning. 1 thought the magistrate would \ninsist on accompanying us to Mykonos, and make a nuisance of \nhimself with suspicions and questioning. But this dignified person-\nage, so uncomfortably covered with fine hot clothes, and so sorely \nfatigued with his unusual efforts, was as happy as Aristotle suggested \nat the prospect of his troubles vanishing to another island. Aiskhines \ncalled his men together with the utmost rapidity, and we sailed, our \ngalley and some of \nthe planking still dirty red. Two sailors worked at \ncleaning it as we went. Parmenion, improved but still silent, lay with \n186 \n\n\nBLOOD AT DELOS, FLESH AT MYKONOS \nhis back propped against a thwart, out of the sun. The only other \npassengers were Aristotle, myself and Phokon. \nWe worked our way through a slightly choppy sea to the harbour at \nstony Mykonos. There the crew of the Eudaimonia could at last \nunload their cargo of oil. As their purchasers came down to the dock \nto receive it, Aristotle and I put our questions to these and other men \non the waterfront, eliciting unsatisfactory responses. The number of \nvisitors who had come to Mykonos from Delos during the day seemed \nphenomenal. Everyone we addressed wanted payment for answering \nour queries. Not only that, they wanted to bring brothers and cousins \nand uncles to get paid for answering questions too. Helpful \ninformation was lacking. Aristotle decided to cut this procedure \nshort. \n'Where,' he asked suddenly, 'is the nearest brothel?' \nThere was laughter, but ready response. 'The nearest one for \nrespectable men is up there,' said one of the sailors. 'It's the White-\nArmed Sea-Nymph.' \n'I don't want the most respectable one,' said Aristotle rather \ncrossly. \n'Well, then,' said the sailor, with great merriment, 'you want the \nsign of the Naumakhia, with its female keeper Lysis.' \n'That is, if you care for pigs,' said his friend. 'You'll nose it - it's \ngot pigpens round it, on the way up that hill.' \nWith succinct thanks, Aristotle gathered up myself and Phokon, \nleaving the sailors in charge of the ship - and of \nParmenion. We were \nglad of some directions offered to us by Aiskhines as we worked our \nway uphill. The town proved labyrinthine and puzzling. 'That's often \nthe case with these island towns,' said Aristotle. 'In some moods \nthey're happy to receive visitors and commerce and in other moods \nall they can think of is pirates and how to outfox them.' \nWe found the place readily enough, even in this squalid maze. Like \nevery place in Mykonos it was walled about with the rough local \nstones supplied in such plenty by the hillsides. Beside the door was a \n187 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF UFE \nscratched sketch of \na sea fight, bearing the name 'Naumakhia'. Crude \nas the picture was, you could see it was of two ships grappling \ntogether, one crew of men with heavy weapons already forcing their \nway into the enemy vessel. There was an undeniable odour of pig. \nWithout knocking, Aristotle marched in and we followed. We \nseemed to fill the place - a low-roofed rather dusty house, with small \nrooms. The scent of \npig grew and blossomed, incessant and familiar. \n'Who are you?' A woman of square build with a round face came \ntowards us. She was not very old, but her skin was winkled and grimy. \n'Have you an appointment of any kind?' she asked in mincing tones \nout of keeping with her grimy appearance. \n'Alas, no,' said Aristotle. 'We have come looking for a friend who \nwe fear has delayed here too long.' \nShe cackled. 'Oh, a lot stays for a while longer than they thought,' \nshe replied. \n'Perhaps some do. Some may stay for a great deal longer, I fear. \nBut that's neither here nor there. We'll pick up our friend, whose ship \nis waiting, and be on our way.' \n'You seem very cocksure, Citizen Whatnot from Wherever! Who's \nto say we have any of your fine friends here? We're -' \n'Stop! Hush!' I said. 'I hear something.' And I did hear a sound like \na low hum or groan. \n'Pigs grunting. They do that,' explained the woman con-\ntemptuously. \n'No - come on!' Acting on impulse I led the way to the back \npremises, where we were confronted by two contiguous pigpens; or \nmore properly one gigantic pigpen in two parts. The outer wall or \nperimeter was strongly made of stones (the universal local material). \nThe wall between the two pens was a fence of \nwood, with a gate in it. \nIn the slightly larger pen, the more eligible residence, partially shaded \nby a short thatched roof weighted down by stones, two pigs were at \nhome. Although the weather was dry, these animals had been given \nwater to drink and to roll around in, as well as all the slops and sour \n188 \n\n\nBLOOD AT DELOS, FLESH AT MYKONOS \nporridge from the house, and the area was certainly very mucky. Two \nenormous pigs - boar and sow - glared at us. \nThese two balls of \nflesh had been digging in the dirt with their long \nround snouts, but now they ran back and forth and made a great \nrumpus. A man stuck his frowsy head out of a little window that \nlooked into this salubrious courtyard and yelled 'Shut up!' Somebody \nelse cursed in a language I did not know. The pigs, undeterred, kept \nup a great grunting. I moved cautiously around the side of \nthis pen to \nthe next one, the less luxurious residence totally lacking in shade. \nThis enclosure had one inhabitant. Tied neck and heels with a gag in \nhis mouth was our unfortunate travelling companion Philokhoros. \nHis eyes pleaded with me over his nearly invisible fine nose. \n'You get out of that-there, or I'll set the pigs on you!' the woman \nthreatened. This was no light menace. I had rather she had said 'dogs' \n- for dogs you can fight off, but once a pig gets you down you are in \ntrouble. They say pigs will eat you, dead or alive - they're not \nparticular. \n'Phokon!' commanded Aristotle. \nI did not wait for Phokon, however, as we were not at leisure. I \nclimbed into Philokhoros' filthy pigpen (having first cast off my \nclothes and sandals). It was like stepping into a bog. The pigs next \ndoor were incensed at this invasion of their territory. I could hear \ntheir grunts of \nrage and see their little red eyes glaring fiercely at me, \nthe intruder. They galloped over to me as if to run me down with \ntheir sharp hooves, but were fortunately held back by the partition. I \nsaw, however, that the gate in this railing was ingeniously arranged \nso as to be opened from outside the pen, by a string. It would \ncertainly be possible for a keeper at any moment to admit the angry \nporkers into the second pen. This fact by no means increased my \nequanimity or good humour. I grabbed the hapless and bound \nPhilokhoros. I had no knife to cut his bonds with, so I had to treat \nhim as a package, and get him over the stone wall somehow. He \nhelped as much as he could, scrabbling with his poor bound hands \n189 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nand feet, but it was a difficult job; perhaps I could not have \naccomplished it if Phokon had not stepped in (likewise naked) to my \naid. The two of us heaved the grunting Philokhoros over the edge, \nand started to get over ourselves, just as the lady of the house made \ngood her threat to open the gate of the first pen and let the animals \ninto the second one. They charged around with considerable vigour, \nhoping to get at us. Happily, we were able to flip over the stone wall \njust as they made their entry. \nBoth Phokon and I were dripping with sweat and each of \nus stank \nlike twenty pigs. \n'Well done!' Aristotle clapped his hands, as at a theatre piece. 'Not \na pretty scene, but heroic. How do you find yourself now, \nPhilokhoros? Can we get his bonds off?' \nPhokon found a rusty implement propped against the wall of a \nlean-to, and slowly sawed through the ropes that bound Philokhoros. \nThe gentleman's clothes were indescribably filthy and it is better not \nto imagine what he smelt like. I removed the gag, and he coughed and \npanted. I expected him to rise to his feet, but he fell back with a groan. \n'He won't be able to walk at first, you've got to chafe his legs and \nget him in better plight,' said Aristotle. 'By the Twelve Gods! He \nsmells abominable! Can we get upwind of \nhim - and the pigs?' \nObviously, we could not depart until we could get Philokhoros into \nworking order. Aristotle tenderly held my clothes and Phokon's to \nkeep them out of the muck that had ruined poor Philokhoros' \nhabiliments. \n'We need to find some clothing for this poor fellow,' he said. 'Hey, \nMistress! Lysis - if \nthat's your name' - thus he addressed the woman, \nwho was glowering at our success. \n'You're in serious trouble for what has happened here. We have \nfriends who are waiting for us outside - we have already consulted the \nmagistrate in Delos about this missing person. It could go very hard \nwith you. I urge you to step smartly and help us. Assist us to carry this \nman into the cleaner courtyard where we can sluice him - and these \n190 \n\n\nBLOOD AT DELOS, FLESH AT MYKONOS \nother two - with water from your well. And find some clean clothes \nfor this gentleman you have wrongfully imprisoned. At once!' \nCowed, now that her pigs had failed to put an end to our trouble-\nmaking, Lysis reluctantly led the way to the small courtyard with the \nwell in it, keeping up a running grumble the while: \"Well-fancy-that-\nI-don't-know-what-the-world-is-coming-to. Peaceful householders! \nIntruders and spies. Nuff-to make-a-body-sick.' \nLiving in the vicinity of her pigs was enough to make a body sick, \nbut I didn't say so. We obtained the blessed water and I was sluiced \ndown, then Phokon, and then the trembling Philokhoros. The \nestablishment supplied a thin piece of linen with holes in it for \ntowelling, and I was dry enough to put on my own clothes once more. \nPhokon was soon in a better plight too. \n'Now, Madam Pigwoman, where are clothes for this ill-treated \ngentleman?' \n'Ain't got no clothes. You think I'm an old-clothes shop, you come \nto the wrong place.' \n'What about the other men who are here - customers or whatever?' \n'Nobody here.' \n'There was a man, who shouted at us out of the window,' I \nreminded her. \n'Just my steward. Having a rest.' \n'Perhaps. And perhaps not. An idea occurs to me.' Before I could \ndivine what he intended, Aristotle darted into the house, and across \nthe hall- myself \nfollowing. 'First I'll just have a look,' he said. Rapidly \nhe flung open the three doors in the passageways, and peered briskly \ninto each room, checking up on the landlady's statement regarding \ncurrent custom. At last he went confidently into the one remaining \nchamber, the little room round the corner, the one looked out on the \npigpen. It \nhad nothing in it but a bed, and there were two heads at the \ntop of the bed. Without greeting, Aristotle snatched from the foot of \nthe bed a pile of \nclothes. At this, the man with the scruffy frowsy head \n(who smelt quite ripe himself) roused himself, raised that head, and \n191 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nbegan furious and then anguished protestations. His companion \nmuttered something (I didn't catch what, but undoubtedly not com-\nplimentary). Aristotle disregarded these objurgations, and turned \nback with his prize. \n'I'm in no mood for conversation. Here you are, Philokhoros. Sorry \nthey don't smell better, but it's the best this hostelry affords.' \nThe woman screeched in wrath. 'Thieves! Give those straight back! \nYou've no right!' \n'I fear it is you who must compensate the unfortunate steward and \nhis dear friend.' Aristotle remained calm. 'As it \nis really my friend who \ndeserves compensation, we will take these clothes in partial payment. \nYou owe him replacement for the garments you have ruined.' \n'Don't owe nothing,' she muttered, so low that Aristotle was not \nobliged to hear her. \n'But 1 must say,' he continued, 'I admire your generous conception \nof time off for your servants - if that man is really your steward. \nHappily, the clothes are those of a free person. Get dressed -' he \nhanded his find to Philokhoros - 'and cast the stinking clothes out \ninto the yard.' \nBehind us the man in the bedroom still bellowed his rage, and his \nopinion as to what ought to be our future fate. But evidently he was \ntoo modest or too frightened to come and look for us - or else he was \nrestrained by his bed-companion. The landlady subsided into \nspluttering. \nOnce Philokhoros was arrayed sufficiently to meet the claims of \nrespectability (if not of elegance), 1 hoped we would go. Aristotle, \nhowever, looking at the rescued man, demanded a drink of \nwater for \nhim. The woman set up a renewed screeching about how much we \nhad cost her. \n'We will ask this gentleman how much damage you inflicted on \nhim, a free citizen, and what claims he wishes to pursue in law,' said \nAristotle coldly. 'If \nyou cooperate with us, that will be taken as a sign \nthat your complicity in this horrid affair was unwitting or unwilling. \n192 \n\n\nBLOOD AT DELOS, FLESH AT MYKONOS \nOtherwise, we must naturally think you are the chief agent. Or your \nhusband.' \n'I - 1 ain't the chiefl And 1 got no husband!' The woman started to \npour water into her cracked cups and began to whimper. 'Respectable \nwidow woman.' \n'Really? And really a widow?' \n'Well, the same as. My husband left for somewheres a year or two \nback, he's probably died.' She handed us each some water, and \nplunked herself down on a stool. 'About yesterday - 1 did not do \nanything! Just what the two gentlemen as was with him - his friends, \nlike - said. They said to keep him safe till they came again. They put \nhim in the fIx he was in, \"for his own sake\" they said. 1 thought just \n'cause they didn't want the gentleman wandering off, while he was in \nhis cups.' \nShe looked at us with eyes of \nelaborate innocence; any child could \nhave seen through this lie. \n'That you are not the chief agent in this bad action, that 1 can \nbelieve,' said Aristotle. 'That alone, at the moment. Explain, good sir. \nDid this woman threaten your life?' \n'Oh, 1 did not! Sir, tell them 1 didn't!' The woman looked \npleadingly at Philokhoros. \n'Well, she threatened me with the pigs. And pigs could end one's \nlife,' said Philokhoros. 'But 1 admit, it's not a story to go down as well \nin a lawcourt as if \nruffians say they have a big sharp knife and will stick \nit in your ribs.' \n'But - what happened to you? You were on board the Eudaimonia. \nAnd then what?' \n'Well, 1 had a short nap, and woke to fmd my slave-boy gone off. \nSo 1 asked the captain to fInd him. And then two men came to me and \nsaid the boy had been decoyed to a brothel here in Mykonos, and they \nwould take me to him so 1 could buy him back. 1 suspected extortion, \nbut nothing else, really. We left the ship and walked back round the \nbeach to the Sacred Harbour, and took a ship to Mykonos. But then \n193 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n- when I got to Mykonos harbour - they fed me strong wine. It must \nhave been very strong, such as I am not used to. Though it tasted fine. \nAnd then they brought me to this place, and we started looking \nthrough the rooms, and they offered me more wine, and then - I \nbelieve they banged me on the head, for I know I was not conscious \nfor a while.' \n'And after that?' \n'They tied me up, while I was not awake. And when I came to I \nheard them making jokes - brothel jokes. About what to do with me \n- you can imagine. But they told the woman to keep me here until she \ngot further word. She was to keep me bound, and in the pigpen so I \ncould not get free. And the two men went away.' \n'Do you know who they were?' \nPhilokhoros hesitated before replying. 'No. No. At least, I mean \nI'd like to think I could recognise them again. But - no.' \n'Yet at Delos you went off with them without question?' \n'Well, I had questions, certainly, but they seemed so sure they knew \nwhere the boy was.' \n'Did you see any sign of the boy when you got here?' \n'No.' \n'Is this Lysis here who calls herself a widow a slavewoman or free?' \nHe was surprised by the question. '/ don't know. The men \naddressed her as if \nshe were a freedwoman. Not of \nthe highest order-' \nThe woman set up a screeching. 'I'll have you know I am no slave, \nand he's a dirty rascal who says otherwise!' \n'It is a legal matter,' Aristotle said. 'If \nshe were a slave, we could \ntake her forthwith and have her interrogated. But if she is \nfreedwoman, she will have to answer questions in a court of law in \ndue course. To counsel homicide is the same as to commit homicide. \nIf \nshe has been a material agent in making away with the boy, or if \nshe \nhas counselled such making away, and even more if \nshe has provable \ndesigns against the life of this man, then she will face the death \npenalty.' \n194 \n\n\nBLOOD AT DELOS, FLESH AT MYKONOS \n'No!' cried the woman. She was very intent now, the grumbling \nreluctance clean gone. 'Oh sirs, don't do this to me! I couldn't help \nit. It was a very rich man who came here at dawn today, a rich man \nwho gave his name and some money.' \nAristotle leaned forward eagerly. \n'And his name is?' \n'His name is Solon. He told me to expect another party this \nafternoon. Meaning yourself, sir' - to Philokhoros - 'and the two \nfriends with you. And this Solon before he left in the morning, he \ngave orders about the pigs and all. And there was no boy, little or big. \nAnd no homicide!' She was ready to shout her voice out. The veins \nstood out on her grimy forehead. \n'Be calm, or you will do yourself an injury,' said Aristotle. 'Can you \ndescribe this \"Solon\"?' \n'He was a man - like all the others. But cleaner dressed and finely \nspoken. A good sort of figure. Not tall, really, maybe above the \nmiddle height. Not very young, but not old. He spoke like Athenian \ngentry, is all. That's all I know. Truly.' \n'How much did Solon give you?' She blushed and hesitated. \n'Come, come,' said Aristotle impatiently, 'we really need to know. It \nis material to the case.' \n'Two hundred drakhs,' she muttered in a low voice. 'He gave one \nhundred and said there'd be more if he came back and found the \ngentleman safely stowed - I mean in the pigpen. Nothing worse than \nthat. Just keeping him from harm, that's all.' \n'Two hundred drakhs -\nmerely for imprisoning someone in a \npigpen?' Aristotle turned to me. 'I know prices are high in the islands \nbut this does seem excessive, even for Mykonos. Such a handsome \npayment might serve as recompense for any number of activities, \nmight it not?' \n'In some towns,' I responded, 'that great a sum would pay for \nseveral murders. Getting Philokhoros away seems to have been \nimportant to whoever bought this service.' \n195 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'Yes. Whoever that may be. We need not waste time enquiring for \na fellow with the name of \nthe great lawgiver, Solon, often called \"the \nwise man of Athens\". So this new \"wise man of Athens\" deigns to \nvisit this hovel.' \n'Why \"Solon\"?' I wondered. \n'Well, among other things, Stephanos, Solon is famous for dividing \nthe populace of Athens into four classes: \"the five-hundred-bushel-\nmen\" (the Aristos), then the Knights, then the Hoplites and at the \nbottom the Menials. And -' with a cautious glance at Philokhoros, \nwho was still cleaning himself - 'this mock \"Solon\" seems to have \nclassified our friend here with certain domestic animals. About the \nman who made these arrangements - chief actor or deputy, who \nknows? - we are entitled to surmise only two things. He is apparently \nan Athenian, and not poor. Enough ofthis,' said Aristotle, rising. 'We \nmust be going. Sir, I hope you are able to walk to the harbourage. \nYou, Mistress of Pigs, we shall keep in mind. We can always have \nyour pens searched for human remains. That will give you a pretty \nreputation, and a good market for your pork! I advise you to be more \ncareful about what favours you do henceforward.' \nWe got up to go; Philokhoros walked in a wobbly fashion, but he \nwas able to walk. As we made our exit I could not resist looking back \nat the pigpens and making a childish face at the hoggish twain who \nglared back at me. 'Chops!' I shouted. 'Sausages! Pig's-trotters stew! \nJust think!' \nWe left the foul place and walked gladly back to the harbour where \nwe could savour the clean sea air in our nostrils. \n'We didn't see a single girl belonging to that brothel,' I mused. \nAristotle laughed. 'They would smell dreadful. Presumably Lysis is \nfor sale. I should think she indulges with the steward as her private \ntreat, and rewards him with opportunity for his own pleasures. Really, \nthe \"Naumakhia\" is not exactly your kind of brothel. If \nyou look at \nthe picture at the door, you'll see it is not clubs or swords the sailors \nare employing in the sea-fight. This house is not interested in girls.' \n196 \n\n\nBLOOD AT DELOS, FLESH AT MYKONOS \n'Meaning the steward was in bed with a boy - but not Sosios.' \n'No. The stewards' bed-companion was not Philokhoros' missing \nboy. A brothel,' Aristotle said thoughtfully, 'now, that is really a \nhandy business for concealing other transactions. It's a place where \nyou can get whatever you want - for a price. People running a brothel \ncan do many favours, and not just for their ordinary carnal customers. \nThose pigs worry me. What an efficient way of \ngetting rid of \na corpse! \nIf \nyou bury a body it can be dug up. Bodies cast into seas, lakes and \nrivers have washed up on many banks. But what pigs have eaten stays \nhidden for ever.' \nThe good ship Eudaimonia took us back from Mykonos harbour to \nRheneia. The ship was now without the cargo of oil, and the effect \nwas not altogether pleasant; its new lightness encouraged it to skip \nand dance in the waves. On our way, Aristotle discussed with our \ncaptain Aiskhines and his crew our wish to set out for N axos on the \nmorrow, and our agreement to take Doris with us. Aiskhines replied \nthat he could take us to Naxos on our way to Kos, and that if \nwe could \nmake our way to Delos in the morning he would collect the family \nwith the sick daughter, as they would expect to take passage in the \nsame ship. \nI left all these arrangements to Aristotle. Aristodamos of \nNaxos was \nhis friend. The short journey to Rheneia seemed to take for ever. I was \nchilled, and yet could take no satisfaction in wrapping my clothes \nabout me. Try hard as we did, we had not kept our garments \nuncontaminated by the scent of pig. When we arrived at Rheneia, \nPhokon found us a lodging. The people of Rheneia have too many \nvisitors, for they appear slightly contemptuous of \nthem - at least that \nwas so in our case. Perhaps our odour had something to do with this \nreception. \nI was tired and restless, and my sleep was strangely broken by starts \nand vivid dreams. You would think I would dream of \nthe horrid pigs, \nbut there was little of \nthat. I remember rather a dream of \ngreat beauty; \na vision of a great golden wheel slowly moving, and in the centre a \n197 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF UFE \nsparkling dot of light. It seemed as if such a dream must have \nsignificance if only I could understand it. I awoke and felt hot, and \nfrom the dream-exaltation fell into despond. I was worrying about \nvarious things - including the poor limping slave and her limping dog, \nas well as the whereabouts of Philokhoros' unfortunate boy. But \nchiefly I wondered how I should ever complete my task and get home \nagain. \n198 \n\n\nXII \n==~9_,~e== \na\"-'G \nNaxos \nIn the morning light, the images of sleep vanished. My pleasure at \ndawn, was however, mitigated by the fact that my digestion was \nafflicted. (I put this indignity down to the drinking water in \nMykonos, though it might have been the pig muck.) I could not bear \nto put on myoid clothes again. Philokhoros, arrayed in the uncouth \nraiment of \nthe brothel-keeper's steward, bought new clothes from a \nhouseholder of Rheneia whose wife was a notable weaver. He gave \nPhokon a new tunic also. In kind acknowledgement of my helping \nhim out of the pigpen, Philokhoros also purchased a himation for \nme. Although a gentleman should be chary of \ntaking gifts, I was not \ntoo proud to accept this one. \nPhilokhoros, still recovering from the effects of the attack and not \nat all strong, decided he would stay in Rheneia, or rather go back \nagain to Delos. He did not, he asserted, need or wish to go to Naxos, \nbut we might all meet later in the eastern islands, some day. \n'I must see if I can find that wretched boy of mine,' he said with a \ntired smile. 'I am concerned as to what has befallen him. Surely he has \nbeen abducted, stolen by some villains in Delos. I shall make enquiries. \nPerhaps there is a more sympathetic magistrate than you came upon.' \n199 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nEach of the rest of us must have thought of the distinct possibility \nthat the young slave Sosios had simply run away, having had enough \nof Philokhoros' caresses. But it would have been impolite to hint as \nmuch to Philokhoros, and any such notion would certainly have made \nlife harder for the boy when retrieved. Philokhoros went with us in a \nsmall boat for the short journey from Rheneia, and we said our \nfarewells to him in the Sacred Harbour, now in its morning ferment \nof activity. The day was still relatively cool and fresh, with a pleasant \nbreeze, so the hot-food sellers could ply their trade and the slaves in \nthe slave mart could be stirred to run round naked in their circle of \ndisplay. None of these was the missing boy. \nThe captain and the other sailors were waiting for us by the mole \nat the Sacred Harbour. With them was the family group - the \ngrandfather, his daughter and the little wheezy girl- bound for Kos. \nThey said they would be happy to go to Naxos, as Delos was \nexpensive, and they would find a lodging near Naxos harbour. \nInevitably, Doris and her dog (basket at the ready) were awaiting us \ntoo. Doris was now encumbered with a great bundle of material \nwhich she said she must deliver to a friend or customer of \nher mistress \nKardaka in a place called Three Villages. Standing with this familiar \ngroup - to my surprise - was Miltiades. This travelling man said \ngenially that he had business in Naxos and was looking forward to \ntaking another sea journey with us and our wonderful crew of the \nEudaimonia. He seemed to have forgotten that the last time he had \nseen us, when we were puzzling over our bloodstained ship, he had \npractically accused us of murder. \nWe all got into the boat and settled ourselves as quickly as possible. \nWords were said on the subject of \nDoris' dog by the family party, who \nwere anxious that their child not be incommoded by it, and also by a \nnew passenger who eyed the animal suspiciously and ordered 'Keep \nthat thing from barking.' Doris meekly promised to sit out ofthe way, \nand not only to put the dog in the basket but also to tie up the \nanimal's jaws as she had done before. 'He's a very quiet dog, really,' \n200 \n\n\nNAXOS \nshe said. 'I can get him not to bark - when he's tied he knows he \nmustn't speak. He whines, just a little.' She then sat patiently beside \nthe dog basket in the stem, having stowed her bundle of \ngoods where \nit was least likely to get wet. So we left the sacred island, birthplace of \nApollo. We looked back on its lovely temples as long as we could see \nthem. \nIt was perhaps a good thing, in the light of \nour constraint regarding \nMiltiades, that there was a new passenger on the ship, even if he had \nobjected to the dog. The gentleman helped conversation to become \npleasant and general. He explained that he was a marble merchant, of \nParos, the island next to Naxos. \n'No need to go to Naxos for marble,' he boasted, 'though I do have \nbusiness concerns in that other island. But everyone knows that \nParian marble is the best in the world.' \nI agreed that many famous temples and sculptures were made with \nParian marble. I had never thought about the island itself. \n'The most beautiful of the Kyklades,' he assured us. 'Such a pity \nyou are not going to visit it. A lovely city - beautiful countryside. You \ncould see our marble mines, which interest many visitors. The mines \nare very deep, and great galleries have been carved in the hills. \nThousands of slaves work there - simply thousands! They cut the \nmarble and bring it up and then it is roughly dressed in blocks, and \nthe great white blocks are brought down to the city.' \n'How do you move such heavy loads?' I asked \n'Rollers - a long track of them, along which the great slabs of \nmarble are moved by sliding. As for transport to the town, of course \nwe have tremendous ox-carts.' \n'It sounds a fine business,' I said dubiously, thinking it was rather \nlike silver and lead mining, after all. You look at marble statues and \ntemples and you rarely think where the stone comes from. \n'Oh, it is a fine business.' He rubbed his hands together in a pleased \nmanner. 'And Parian marble's the best! Our business increases. Of \ncourse the war made a lot of trouble and depressed trade.' (He did \n201 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nnot add that the Kyklades had sided with the Persians, which had \nmade for unpleasantness when the Makedonians had won.) 'But \npeople the world over wish to have statues and other objects made of \nParian marble. So our towns and cities flourish.' \n'So likewise with Naxos,' said Miltiades. 'I am also in the marble \nbusiness. Athens may have fine marble, but the Naxians have the best \nstatue-works, for Naxians have been great sculptors from time \nimmemorial. \n' \n'You are a Naxian?' \n'No, no - I am an Athenian, with connections in Naxos. Part of \nmy \nbusiness entails importing sculpture.' \n'Ha! You should come to Paros - then you might talk about \nimporting sculpture. Beautiful white marble. Finest workmanship. If \nyou came, young man -' addressing me - 'you would enjoy seeing the \ngreat monument to Arkhilokhos.' Seeing my puzzled look, he added, \n'You must have heard of \nArkhilokhos, the great poet. Born in Paros.' \n'Oh! Him,' I said recognising the name. 'The bitter-tongued poet \nwho killed people with his cursing, and whose killer was sent packing \nby the Pythia at Delphi.' \n'Yes - but you don't speak very appreciatively of the poet who \ninvented iambs.' \n'I thought of him as a rather biting, bitter kind of person,' I said \nfrankly. 'I didn't know you in Paros thought so much of him.' \n'Of \ncourse we are proud of \nour great poet,' he said stiffly. I realised \nI had been lacking in tact. You should never insult a man's city or its \nmonuments or its athletes - or its poets. \n'Marble,' said Miltiades, 'certainly ought to benefit this whole \nregion. Such a demand now! It used to be that marble was just for \ntemples - and for statues donated to the gods and placed in temples \nand so on. A family would give a great marble kouros, the image of a \nyoung man, sometimes in memory of a young man who had died. \nSoon everyone wanted such statues of \ngods and lovely kouroi for their \nown temples at home. Now all temples have many such images. But \n202 \n\n\nNAXOS \nthese days, people begin to desire some marble figures for their \ndwellings, too. Nowadays rich men buy marble statuary for their \nhouses. It won't be purchased just for temples and agoras any more, \nyou mark my words.' \n'It's true, there's a demand now in private homes,' agreed the \nParian. 'It may soon be the chief \nof \nthe business in places like Athens. \nBut we needn't ignore works for agoras and temples,' he added. \n'Since the cities of \nAsia are happily free of \nthe Persians, they will want \nto erect proper Greek buildings. New agoras, new temples, with fine \nstatues. All marble. And they will get marble from Paras, and their \nnew statues from the workshop ofNaxos and Paras - even Athens.' \n'True,' said Miltiades. 'There will likewise be a constant need for \nreliable transport. Now, friend,' and he turned to our captain \nAiskhines, 'I have a proposition to make to you. I have, as it turns \nout, reason to look over a statue in Naxos and - if I approve it - to \nsend this image to Delos. That's a short hop, you'll agree. But I need \na reliable and careful crew who could pack the statue up intelligently \nand not damage it in any way. If you and your men felt like taking \nthe job on tomorrow, I would offer double pay. Just a quick run to \nDelos. And then the packing and unpacking to consider. What do \nyou say?' \n'Well,' said Aiskhines, 'my men are tired and they will be wanting \na rest in Naxos before we head off \nto Kos. The voyage to Kos is much \nmore arduous than hopping from Sounion to Delos. Sir -' turning to \nAristotle - 'I don't know how long you intend to stay on Naxos. We \nhave promised to take your party all the way to Kos, so we shall \ncertainly wait for you in the port ofNaxos. The wait, I take it, will not \nbelong.' \n'I don't expect we shall stay a long while with Aristodamos, no,' \nsaid Aristotle. 'About three days, 1 should think. A couple of \nour party \nare not feeling very well.' He looked at myself and Parmenion as he \nspoke. 'A restful time in a beautiful house with friends would \nprobably be good for us. We must allow time for getting to and from \n203 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nAristodamos' house in the hills, too. On the fourth day after we set \nout for the house we should be able to meet you in the port ofNaxos \nto continue our voyage.' \n'Take the job, captain,' urged the most lively of \nthe sailors, the one \nwho so praised Poseidon and the life at sea. 'It seems we will be \nwaiting in Naxos - so why not do a little extra work for such a lot of \nmoney? Does the gentleman realise how much it could cost to carry \nthis statue?' He looked at Miltiades anxiously. 'That's two drakmai a \nday each for ten rowers minimum. Which is twenty drakhs right there \n- plus the captain's fee.' \n'Oh, yes, I am well aware of the costs,' said Miltiades. 'Once I get \nto the workshop in N axos I can readily pay - a little in advance and \nthe whole at the end. Since it is only to Delos, the sea journey should \ntake but a day. Less, really.' \n'Ah, but there's the getting back to Naxos to be taken into \naccount,' objected Aiskhines. \n'That's right. So there is,' agreed Miltiades genially. 'We'll say, hire \nfor two days at least, then.' \nWith this arrangement in prospect, the sailors seemed cheerful and \nskimmed along the billows in very good style. The wind favoured us, \nand the sail made light work for the rowers. Doris' dog was by now \naccustomed to the ship, and made less whimpering and whining. I \nhad to use the latrine a good deal, but improved as the day pro-\ngressed. We all enjoyed seeing the peaks of Naxos move closer and \ncloser. As the westering sun touched the highest peaks, the marble \nhills like frozen waves gleamed in the rose of \nafternoon. It is very fine, \nthe harbour of Naxos, with a magnificent if unfinished temple at the \nvery gateway, on an islet at the opening of \nthe haven. \n'The Temple to Apollo built by the tyrant Lygdamis, many \ngenerations ago,' explained the Parian. 'When the tyrant fell, it was \nunfinished and has never been finished. But it is beautiful, \nnevertheless. Mark the elegant columns in the Ionian manner.' \nThe temple remained unpainted, but the rosy light threw colours \n204 \n\n\nNAXOS \nupon it, and as we rounded the headland into the harbour the sunset-\ntinted sky could be seen between its lovely columns. The city clusters \nat the foot of its Akropolis and runs up towards the height, so the \ntown has the wedge shape which seems characteristic of \nthese islands. \nSoft lights gleamed from the houses - you could tell from that alone \nthat it was a rich place with plentiful oil. Surprising, as I had seen no \nolive groves on Delos or Rheneia, and only a few stunted trees in \nMykonos. \nAristotle decided that it was too late in the day for us to try to get \nto Aristodamos' house, far in the hills, so we found a small hostelry \nand settled ourselves for the night, hiring a room for our party. The \nfamily of young Philokleia said they would find lodgings near to this \npretty harbour, and could easily manage, as they had their own \nserving-woman with them. They would wait for the Eudaimonia; we \npromised not to leave for Kos without them. We had already said \nfarewell to the Parian, and to Miltiades who was going to a marble \nstatuary workshop. For lame Doris and her dog we found quarters \nwith the servants of the place where we stayed. These Naxians \nseemed hospitable enough, much better than the people of \nMykonos \nand Rheneia, I thought. Despite the sailors' warning against buying \nfish, we bought some, including octopus, and it was quickly grilled for \nus. I was so hungry I didn't mind feeling each individual sucker on \nthe octopus leg as it went down. My stomach was ready to receive \nagain. Parmenion looked almost cheerful, so it was an unusually \nfestive meal. Aristotle wrote some letters, while our host regaled us \nwith brave stories of the courage and prowess of the Naxians until \nsleep overtook us. \nEarly the next morning we were surprised by persons calling at our \nlodgings. Aristodamos, as promised, had sent someone to meet us -\nslaves bringing asses to convey us to his home in the hills. There was \na donkey for each of the guests, including Phokon. I was impressed \nby this grand way of \ndoing things. We were travelling like rich people, \nwaited upon and made easy. \n205 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF UFE \n'Sirs - oh, please - what about me?' \nThe tiresome Doris manifested herself, right at our elbow. She was \nready to travel, with her dog and her great bundle of \nstuffs. We could \nhardly repudiate her, after our promise (however grudging) to her \nmistress Kardaka. Once she explained about her errand to Three \nVillages, Aristodamos' men said that she could come with them as far \nas Aristodamos' house, and the rest of her way was a walking \ndistance. Of course, we had to make Phokon share his animal with \nDoris, while one of Aristodamos' slaves was a porter for Doris' \nbundle. We tried to get the lame dog to run alongside, but the slow \nand complaining little beast was too great a nuisance; he had to be \npacked into his light basket, and rendered portable. \nAs we left the city and went up and up, I realised that the walk into \nthe hills might be quite arduous, so even I was glad of \nthe conveyance. \nWhen we got fairly into the countryside, the peaks towered above us. \nSome of these peaks were bitten into by the marble-seekers; great \ngashes and pits showed white as temples against the blue sky. \nThe road was demanding and at times hard going but I was greatly \npleased to see valleys and plains and fields all around me, as well as \nhills everywhere, and many growing things. For the first time since we \nleft Sounion, I felt I was back on land. Delos, Mykonos and Rheneia \nseemed tiny dry uncomfortable little points in the midst of \nthe ocean, \nbut in Naxos I could forget I was on an island. I expressed these \nfeelings to Aristotle. \n'It is such a pleasure,' I exclaimed, 'to see cultivated land, the sort \nof place where human beings can really live. There are barley fields \nhere, and olive groves, many olives. And look! Vineyards! True \nvineyards with flourishing vines, stretching on and on. What a \nwelcome sight.' \n'You might have guessed there would be vineyards, Stephanos,' said \nAristotle teasingly, 'had you but remembered the story of \nAriadne.' \n'Ariadne was abandoned by Theseus in N axos,' I responded \npromptly. 'Which was unfair, as without Ariadne he would not \n206 \n\n\nNAXOS \nhave conquered the Minotaur of Krete and set the Athenians free.' \n'Quite so. But there you are. Theseus left her - an impatient youth \nhe seems, and one imagines they had some slight tiff. Poor Ariadne! \nShe wakes up, looks for her lover - there he is, gone! She looks out to \nsea and at last spies his ship sailing westwards. He is going home to \nAthens, without her. Forgetting all his promises.' \n'He should have made no promises,' said Parmenion, unexpectedly \nvocal. 'Then he wouldn't have broken his word. He broke another \nword too, forgetting his promise to his father. So he left the black sail \non his ship, forgetting to put the white one in its place - and his poor \nfather Aigeus, watching at Sounion for his return, thought his son was \ndead and plunged into the sea.' \n'Yes. Another instance of \nthe tiresome thoughtlessness of \nTheseus \nand his inability to look into the essence of \na promise,' said Aristotle, \nlaughing. 'But let us consider the story of Ariadne. Abandoned in \nNaxos. Of course she cries her eyes out. How she laments for her \nfaithless lover! What words she says to empty air, fruitless reproaches \nto the absent one. But she is rapidly consoled. For lo! Comes the god \nof wine and jollity, his eyes alight. Wearing (we may fancy) his \ncustomary garb of skins of leopards, he comes in a rapid chariot, \ndrawn likewise by those useful animals. He sees Ariadne - her \nproblem is solved! She has a new lover to replace Theseus. Gold for \nbronze. A god in place of a man.' \n'Dionysos came to Naxos, yes,' I mused. 'Dionysos, the god of \npassion, delight, and of \nwine.' \n'So - if we are inclined to the poetic, Stephanos, you and I may \nimagine, in the midst of this hilly landscape, gleaming with marble \nand green with vegetation, the Dionysian train. The clash of \ncymbals, \nthe piping of \nflutes. Satyrs dancing in the shade as the beautiful youth \nadvances. Ariadne's eyes glow as she gazes on this divine pheno-\nmenon. Seized with the ecstasy of the god, she gives herself to him, \nand they are united.' \n'You are rhapsodic, Aristotle,' I laughed. \n207 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'I got carried away by Dionysos. Ariadne was certainly too \npassionate for Theseus, so she was better off. But my point - a mild \none - is merely that any island with such a strong association with \nDionysos, god of \nwine, must have vineyards, and not a few.' \nThus we beguiled ourselves and our servants as we made our way \nto Aristodamos' house. We were very glad to get off our sullen \nmounts. But here another problem arose. As she dismounted, the \ncrippled Doris twisted her foot - her good foot. She cried out in pain. \n'Oh! I can hardly walk. I should set out for Three Villages with the \nfabric - what will my mistress say?' she keened. The dog, aroused by \nher sorrow and anxiety, did his best to second her in a passion of \nwhining, and when she took off his muzzle gave voice to what was in \nhis heart in a series of indignant barks. Aristodamos, who had come \nout to greet us, was the beneficiary of all this racket. He solved the \nproblem easily by asking Doris to stay in his house in the servants' \nquarters until she was recovered, and he pushed her off into the care \nof a little old woman who came blinking into the sunlight. \nAristodamos had a beautiful house, with marble statuary and \nsmooth floors. His many rooms offered fine accommodations for us \nall. We were offered a wash, and water was brought to us in well-\nwrought vessels. Then we were invited outside to sit in the shade of \nthe orchard until the last of \nthe day should cool. \n'Time for dinner,' said Aristodamos. 'It is but a simple meal out of \ndoors tonight. I must apologise for a certain lack of service. I had \npromised - before I knew you were coming, mind! - I had promised \nmy slaves that they could go to the cook's wedding party this evening \nand tomorrow. Promises even to slaves or children are solemn things. \nAnd I like to keep on the good side of \nmy cook. He's a free citizen of \nthese parts, and he invited all the household.' \nWith the assistance of his housekeeper, Aristodamos arranged \ntables and chairs for us; amid sighs and exclamations of pleasure we \nsat down under the trees, to be regaled on olives and other light \nedibles, and some cool wine-and-water in delightful cups. The \n208 \n\n\nNAXOS \nwaning afternoon was yet warm, but a hill breeze refreshed the day. \nAs the sun slowly descended, the world was still and calm; long \nshadows were cast by the olive grove and by the apple trees around \nus. Most of the trees had given their fruit crop earlier in the summer, \nbut some grew in the shade of \nthe hill and their late apples were now \nthe proper colour for eating. A scent of ripeness wound through the \nair. Bees and some wasps blundered about the fallen fruit. \n'This is obviously an old orchard,' said Aristotle. \n'It is so - and that is an ancestral olive grove.' Aristodamos was \npleased to speak of his homestead. 'My family has lived here since \nbefore historical records began - but we can prove that I am at least \nthe tenth generation in this house. Of course we have made \nalterations and improvements. Our family planted the trees and the \nplace is called \"Apple Place\" because of \nus.' \n'It is so wonderful to me, so refreshing,' I said sincerely, 'to be \nagain in a dwelling with fields and trees, a proper home. And this is \neven more impressive because it is so old.' \n'Ha. You like old things?' Aristodamos got up from his seat. 'Let \nme show you something truly old - the fmest or at least most unusual \nfeature of \nthis orchard.' \nHe led the way through the trees a short distance. 'There!' he said, \npointing. \nI saw an enormous shape, the shape of \na man lying down, his head \nlower than his feet. The great body was dappled by the shadows of \nthe \napple leaves. 'Come closer and look at it.' So we pressed on and stood \nover the man, a gigantic statue resting on the earth. I could make out \nthe legs clearly and the feet, and various details, but the face seemed \nunfinished. That might have been just because the elements had \nworked on it. \n'What is it?' \n'This statue was intended for one of \nthose temples in Delos, so we \nthink. Probably a statue of \nApollo, not just of \na kouros - see how big \nit is. The figure has turned grey with age, but it is of Naxos marble \n209 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n- from one of \nthose hills nearby. It \nwas worked on here, presumably. \nPerhaps this field was a sculptor's yard in ancient days. And then -\nunhappy sculptor! - it broke. You can see a deep crack in it. Once \nthe figure broke, it could not be offered to the god in a temple, and \nnobody wanted it. So it was left here. An ancient image. You can \nsee the style is much more stiff than ours is now. How old this figure \nis we cannot know. Our family have never known the orchard \nwithout it.' \n'Most distinguished,' said Aristotle. 'An ancient broken Apollo in \nyour orchard.' \n'But he looks,' Parmenion pointed out, 'like a man who has been \nsleeping in the orchard, taking a rest in the shade.' I thought exactly \nthe same thing. \nPleased with this exhibition of an uncommon feature of his \npropeny, the charmingly hospitable Aristodamos led the way back to \nour chairs and refreshments. The cicadas abated their shrill cry, a \nbreeze of \nevening advanced, and the sun set in glorious colour tinting \nthe marble peaks. We retired early and slept well. \nThe next day was spent in delightful freedom, sleeping as long as \nwe liked, and walking about in the fresh air (except for Doris, who \nneither worked nor walked but sat with her feet up). The servants \nwere still at the wedding, but Aristodamos decided we must have a \nproper dinner. \n'Perhaps it's a good thing that your friend's lame servant is here; \nshe can help myoId housekeeper, the only servant left at home to \nmind the house's business. At least she has learned something from \nmy excellent cook. And if tonight is simple, we will make up for it \ntomorrow.' \nDespite the apology, the meal was my idea of splendid. We were \nserved as we reclined on beautiful couches in the most proper \nmanner, and the food was excellent. I particularly enjoyed succulent \nyoung kid prepared in a most delicious sauce. Dishes were served and \ntaken away by the old housekeeper and her new assistant, the humbly \n210 \n\n\nNAXOS \napologetic and acutely limping Doris, who was more use in cleaning \npots and dishes in the kitchen than in running to and fro. \n'I hope she doesn't break anything,' said Aristotle fretfully, and \nasked Phokon to help. But it was not Doris who broke a dish. It was \na sweet evening with only one slight accident to mar it. Aristodamos \nwas talking instructively about the history of Naxos. \n'You see,' he explained, 'my family were closely involved, like other \nleading families of Naxos, with the affairs of Delos and the creation \nof \nthe sacred site, long before Athens really thought of \nDelos at all. By \nour family's reckoning, we were on Delos long before we came to \nNaxos, and I am the fifteenth generation of our family to be \nassociated with Delos. Exiles from Delos in a sense though we may \nbe, we regard ourselves as Delians as well as Naxians. Many of the \nearliest beautiful buildings on Delos were erected through our \nefforts.' \nWe murmured our appreciation. \n'So,' I said, 'this island is old, if \nyou can go back ten or even fifteen \ngenerations -' \n'That is nothing, Stephanos. Men have lived here in Naxos for \nuncounted time - probably as long as the Egyptians lived in their \ncountry. Objects from that deep time come up when we plough the \nfields, or build new moles in our harbours - or try to bury our dead. \nLook at this, for instance.' \nHe rose and brought back from a cabinet a white marble statue-like \nthing - very strange indeed. A thin, rather short figure of \nmarble stone \nwith a pointed head, featureless save for a triangular nose and thin \narms crossed around its middle. If \nyou looked closer you could see a \npubes scratched on the surface. A figure of a woman, but not really a \nstatue, not a good statue. \n'Sometimes we speculate that this might be a goddess to the Old \nPeople,' he remarked. \n'Surely not,' I said. 'We know that goddesses must be beautiful. \nThis is simply odd.' \n211 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'But of great historical interest, Stephanos,' urged Aristotle. \n'And look at this - how long we have ornamented our pottery.' \nAristodamos picked up a fat little vase from the corner table. It was a \nlight sandy brown, painted in swirling dark brown, the bulging figure \nand big eyes and rolling writhing rhythmic tentacles -\n'An octopus,' I said. \n'Lovely,' said Aristotle, taking the vase. \n'Not lovely,' said I. 'An octopus is edible, but it's not pretty. \nAnyway, I think this one in the painting has the wrong number of \nlegs.' I reached for the fat vase again - and dropped it. It shattered on \nthe floor. There was a collective in-drawing of \nbreath, while I wished \nthat I myself could simply fall and shatter on the floor. \n'Dh no! How terrible!' I cried. 'I don't know how that came to \nhappen. Please let me pay for it -' \nAristodamos hushed me, and sent for the housekeeper to sweep up \nthe fragments. \n'It doesn't have a price,' he said. 'It came out of \nthe earth ofNaxos. \nAnd there must be many more in the earth, gifts from the people of \nold.' \nFeeling as badly as I did about this episode, I was extremely \nanxious to retire to bed, and we all went off at the earliest \nopportunity. Doris was sent to sleep with the old housekeeper, with \nthe dog beside her. Phokon was kept by Aristotle as a body servant, \nnot to intrude upon the currently all-female servants' quarters. \nI woke up quite late, as I think we all did. The sun was fairly high \nin the sky when I was told by Phokon that Aristodamos had ordered \na cool drink and some light refreshment to be served in the orchard. \nDespite last night's great dinner I was in a humour for breakfast, and \njoined the others with pleasure. Doris, stumbling along, helped to \nserve us some bread, her face creased with anxious concern lest she \ndrop it. She had brought her pet with her, in its container. \nIt was most agreeable in the orchard, under the shade of \nthe apple \ntrees. I nearly went to sleep again. \n212 \n\n\nNAXOS \n'The bees' buzzing is very soothing,' I remarked. 'There are no \nbees at sea.' \n'There is a great deal of \nbuzzing,' Aristotle agreed, 'but it's not just \nthe bees. There seem to be a quantity of \nflies around today.' \n'Some carrion or other,' said Aristodamos, unconcerned. 'Won't \nsomebody let that dog out of his basket and stop his whining? He \nneeds to run about - has to do the necessary, I suppose.' \nWith embarrassed apologies, Doris unfastened the dog basket and \nalso released the animal from its muzzle. The dog leaped out, tore \nabout, and then ran through the orchard. Suddenly it set up an \nannouncement of barks and whines. It came running back to us and \nseemed to urge us to follow him. \n'If it found a bone,' said Aristodamos, 'you'd think this creanire \nwould take it and say nothing.' \nWe trooped along to the place where the stone god lay. Now \nsomebody else lay there too. Somebody else, with his head down and \nfeet up, extended supine. Looking like a man taking his ease in a \nshady orchard at midday, fallen into a pleasant nap. But this was no \nsweet summer sleep. Nor was this new figure another marble god. \nAiskhines. Captain Aiskhines. The flies were right. He was certainly \ndead. \n'Ye gods!' I cried. 'How is he here? Did he come here to die?' I \nthink I had an absurd momentary feeling that Aiskhines had come \nhere to die because he wasn't allowed to do it in sacred Delos. \n'Came here to be killed, by the look of it,' said Aristotle. 'See, \nStephanos - see, Aristodamos! Our captain has been stabbed, cleanly \nwith a knife. One good thrust alone -' He bent down to examine the \nbody closely. 'Yes. Gone straight to the heart, I should think. Very \nlittle blood. And the knife -' \nhe groped around in the earth and leaves, \nand shook out the garments of the captain. 'The knife that did it is \nnot here.' \n'This is terrible! On our property, too,' said Aristodamos. 'Who \ncan have done this thing? Why - now - what? We must tell the \n213 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nauthorities. Get someone from the town of Naxos! What city, what \ndeme, does this dead person belong to?' \n'He is of Peiraieus,' said Aristotle. 'Quick! I want to look at your \nkitchens.' \nAristotle ran back to the house and we all followed. The kitchen \narea was a pleasant place and remarkably clean. 'Let's look at your \nknives,' Aristotle commanded. Aristodamos pointed to a container. \nWe found small knives in that. Some big knives were hanging up on \npegs at the wall, in handy readiness. 'None of them is bloody,' said \nAristotle. 'Remarkably fine condition. Your staff is obviously \nexcellent at cleaning.' \n'There is a kind of \nsand or grit that we have in Naxos that excels in \npolishing of \nall kinds -' Aristodamos was beginning to explain. \n'Quite. Well, I cannot see any signs of \nblood, even where the blade \nmeets the haft. Though one of these large kitchen knives could have \ndone the job. Unfortunate Captain Aiskhines! But what was he doing \nhere?' \n'His poor crew,' I said. 'They will want to take the body home to \nPeiraieus.' \n'So they will when they know about it. They must be questioned. \nBut why was Aiskhines here? We need to find out. Had he come \nseeking us at Aristodamos' house? Likely -\nbut why would he \nundertake that arduous walk, if \nthat is what he did?' Aristotle paused \na moment. 'Let us say he knew something he wanted to tell us. We \nmust find out from the sailors, as soon as we can.' \n'Those sailors have a double loss,' I reminded him. 'Their leader \nand their livelihood! The ship belongs to the captain, not to them. \nThey cannot stay in Naxos. The ship must at once be returned to his \nnext of kin.' \n'A point well taken,' said Aristotle, 'It makes it the less likely that \nany of \nthe sailors would be moved to kill him.' \n'But - who did kill this man?' asked Aristodamos. 'A horrible \ndeed has been done. We need to find the murderer. Why was this \n214 \n\n\nNAXOS \ncaptain killed? Was he carrying money upon him?' \n'I don't know. He isn't now. It's a good idea, to say he was killed \nfor money. If only,' Aristotle continued with unusual wistfulness, 'if \nonly he had been found in a deserted area, or down by the port - near \na tavern, or -' \n'Well, we're not near the port,' said Aristodamos. 'And I cannot see \nus ferrying a body down the mountainside to the harbour, like a doll.' \n'I dare say not.' \n'What a blessing for my servants that they were out last night,' \nAristodamos continued. 'They cannot be witnesses, so they won't \nhave to be tortured. Oh, but my poor nearly blind housekeeper - she \nwas here!' \nThe woman's face went ashen and she collapsed in a heap. 'Oh, \nmaster, don't let them torture me,' she begged. 'I did nothing, I swear \nit - I am as innocent as the babe just born.' \n'I believe it,' said Aristodamos. 'But that's the law. Slaves cannot \ngive evidence without being tortured first. And then,' Aristodamos \nwent on, 'there's this lame Doris, whose dog discovered the body. \nAnd your Phokon as well.' \nDoris now collapsed in a heap and tried to take hold of \nAristodamos' knee. She burst out crying. \n'Oh, no-o. Oh, gods, why did I accept a ride to this horrid dwelling! \nWhat an ill fate! Demeter deliver me! Oh master, have pity on a poor \ncrippled woman.' The two women wailed and moaned. Phokon, \nstrong as he was, looked as ifhe were near doing the same. \n'I simply refuse to have Phokon tortured,' said Aristotle stubbornly. \n'He didn't see anything - he was with me. He's thoroughly trustworthy \n- I have known him for years. And you know, Aristodamos, that I \ndidn't do it, and neither my friend nor my student did it.' \n'We could have no kind of motive,' I said. \"For we all liked this \ncaptain, and we needed him to give us our passage to Kos.' \n'Again, a good point, Stephanos. We now need to find another \nship, and that speedily.' Aristotle turned earnestly to Aristodamos. \n215 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF l.lFE \n'Good friend, I most heartily regret that I have brought trouble on \nyour house. I fear that it is my coming that has brought this trouble, \nbecause I have reason to think that my position in the world, my \nsafety and even my life are sought after by an enemy. It is for that \nreason that I have left Athens - actually fled from Athens, though \nwith a good covering of story and business. I had no notion, \nhowever, that my staying with you could bring trouble on your \nhousehold. But it may be that detaining us here and torturing my \nservants and so on form part of the iniquitous ones' intention. For \non the very day that I met you in Delos, an apparent murder was \narranged. Not unlikely that was an effort to detain me. Now there is \na real killing. You are a good friend, 0 Aristodamos. I appeal to you. \nThe longer I am here, the more surely my own life will be \nendangered. I beg you to let us go.' \n'Let you go? You, Aristotle, who were always the champion of \njustice!' \n'A less than worthy champion, for I will admit that I want to save \nmy own life. And I am also responsible for the life of \nthe student - as \nresponsible as a parent. Answerable too in a different way for my \nfriend Stephanos, whose safety I may have risked. I hope that you will \nbe clear of danger once I have departed. As long as I am here, I fear \nthat you and your household are in trouble.' \n'What do you propose?' \n'Something unorthodox. This. Let word go casually to your \nservants at the wedding party that they need not hurry home. They \nwill be glad to stay - wedding parties go on for many days. Let us \nleave. The male slaves who conducted us hither are now all feasting \nwith the bridegroom. Little do they know their own happiness! But I \nthink Phokon and I can remember the route. We shall go back to \nNaxos harbour and there take another ship for Kos. Thus we shall be \naway. Once we are gone, you can \"discover\" the body. Perhaps it \nwould be much the best thing for this body to be found somewhere \nelse.' \n216 \n\n\nNAXOS \n'Do you realise what you are saying?' \n'It is much to ask. But now that we are in this danger, this strategy \nwould work best for yourself too. If the body were discovered \nelsewhere, it would save your house much trouble. And I promise, I \ncould not lessen your trouble by staying here with you. Indeed, my \npresence would greatly add to your danger.' \n'Suspicion will fall on you.' \n'Assuredly it will. But if I depart quickly, nothing worse than \nsuspicion should fall on me. I can do nothing about finding out the \nreal murderer if \nI am kept in captivity - it will merely be easier for my \nown enemies to get at me. ' \n'Please - oh please! Sir! Hear my plea! Let me go with \nyou, sir,' said \nDoris, 'and I won't say nothing about seeing you here, not ever. Oh \nplease, sir -' and she clung to his knees. \n'There's no need for you to come,' I said. 'If you go on to the \nThree Villages as your mistress directed, no one will suspect you of \nanything.' \n'Oh, once the murder is out everyone in the Villages will know \nwhen I came to Naxos, and your house. You know what gossip is. All \nthe slaves will know I was here. Besides -' in her agitation she pulled \nat the hem of \nAristotle's garment - 'you're not thinking. Sir, any slave \nwho is thought of as a witness must be tortured! Once the case goes \nbefore law, none of us will be safe. And my mistress is too far away \nfor me to appeal to her in time.' She wept over Aristotle's feet. \n'Stop that!' said Aristotle. 'If \nyou choose to go back to the port on \none of Aristodamos' donkeys, I cannot prevent you. Nor can I \nprevent you from buying a passage to somewhere -' \n'Oh thank you! Sir, I thank you!' Doris hobbled off, her dog under \nher arm, to find her bundle. Almost in the instant, she was ready to \ndepart. It \ntook us some time longer to gather our belongings, but not \nmuch. Fear lent speed. Hastily bidding farewell, we set off on \ndonkeys down the first of \nthe mountainous hills, and made what felt \nlike an agonisingly slow journey back to the port. \n217 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'Aristodamos' poor old housekeeper is in for it,' I remarked as we \ndescended. 'As soon as the authorities find out, they will put her to \nthe question. And under torture she will certainly talk about us.' \n'She will. Unless Aristodamos thinks of \nsomething ingenious.' \n218 \n\n\nXIII \n==~g~~== \na'-'G \nStorm at Sea \nI was hoping desperately to have a chance to talk with Aristotle alone. \nOn the way down the hill, when our two mounts drew level, I thought \nit a good opportunity to speak with him. \n'I wonder how Aristodamos will -' \nHe cut me off short. 'Wonder nothing, Stephanos.' There was a \nsilence as he seemed to gather himself together. 'Say nothing about \nanything more weighty than the view,' he warned me. 'You don't \nknow where there are ears to hear -\npassers-by, field slaves, \nshepherds. All have ears. We may talk of the illness of Parmenion, \nand how that is driving us forward in a hurry so that the sick boy can \nbe taken to his father.' He looked solicitously at Parmenion, who had \nagain taken on that pallid weary blanched look of \nformer days. Like a \nmarble kouros riding on an ass. I shivered. A marble kouros was often \na commemorative gift to the gods in memory of a young man who \ndied. I thought of the broken marble man lying so peacefully in the \nleaf-shadow spangled orchard ... \nIt struck me after Aristotle's warning that one of the pairs of ears \nready to hear was Doris. Of course she was frightened too - at the \nprospect of being taken for a witness. Soon too was Phokon, \n219 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \npressing onward, anxious to escape from Naxos. And if these two \nwere tortured as witnesses, things would not go well with us either. \nTheir statements would surely lead to our being returned to Athens \nin chains. The trial would have to take place in Athens. Two citizens \nof \nthat city - no, one citizen (me) and one metoikos - taken to be tried \nfor the murder of one of the citizens of Athens from Peiraieus. Or \nthe Naxians might forget to oblige Athens in this way, and stimulate \na mob to kill us on the spot. Such a solution puts an end to the \ntedium oflegal procedures. It also cuts short the humiliation of \na city \nguilty (however ignorantly) of harbouring murderers. Official \napologies, statements of regret for killing another city's citizens in a \ntantrum of justice, are easy to manufacture after the event. \nAt least, I thought, we were making good progress towards the port \nofNaxos, and might get away in time. There too we would be able to \nget rid of the irritating Doris, who would want to keep her mouth \nclosed for her own sake. I hadn't quite realised the difficulties that we \nmight run into on our arrival at the port. We had hardly been long \nenough to draw breath in the place than we met one of \nthe sailors, the \nnautes who had talked to me so enthusiastically of Poseidon. I didn't \nknow what to say, but Aristotle handled the matter as adroitly as \npossible. 'I am sorry,' he said, 'as I know you were going to be \nemployed in transporting the statue. But my protege here is becoming \nill. I am anxious to take him to Kos as soon as possible. We should \nlike to set off today.' \n'Oh,' said the sailor. 'We did the statue job, easy. Didn't you see \nour captain? Aiskhines was determined to go up to the place in the \nhills to see you. I thought you would have met by now. What a pity \n- somehow you must have crossed in the road. I don't know how you \ncould have missed him,' he added, 'for Aiskhines should have got to \nyour place last night. Though it looks all uphill. Well, maybe he \nmissed his way, not being familiar with Naxos. That's the likeliest \nthing.' \n'What was he coming to see us about?' Aristotle enquired. I pricked \n220 \n\n\nSTORM AT SEA \nup my ears: the answer could be of \nimportance. \n'I don't rightly know. We finished the job of \ntransporting the statue \nto Delos in a day.' He laughed. 'That man was so fussy - just about \none marble figure. Don't know why he wanted to pay so high and \nmake so much fuss over one old statue. But we got it smartly to Delos, \nand the sea was favourable, so we were back again before evening. He \n- Aiskhines - and all of us were having a meal, sitting on the strip by \nthe port, with lots of people going by, gossiping and looking at the \nharbour. And Aiskhines suddenly jumps up and says he has a message \nfor you he forgot to deliver. So he goes off to find you. There was a \nmoon later, so it \nwouldn't be hard to travel in the evening, and he had \nan idea where the house was.' \n'How surprising! I don't really understand what the message can \nhave been,' said Aristotle. \n'I fear that if Aiskhines does not come very \nsoon, I must try to find other transport. I regret this more than words \ncan say. But I will pay you something handsome in recompense for \nnot shipping us to Kos.' \nAnd to recompense you for the loss of your captain and your \nemployment, I thought but did not say. \n'Sir.' Another nautical sort of man had joined the group. He was \ntall and rangy, deeply sunburned, with friendly large blue eyes, large \nand wide apart. 'I couldn't help overhearing - do you need a ship and \ncrew to take you to Kos? For I am captain and owner of a keles \nlikewise, and my crew and I are bound for Kos.' \n'You are willing to take passengers on such short notice?' \nAristotle's tone was a trifle sharp. \nThe man shrugged. 'We have no passengers at present. It would \ncertainly suit our treasury to take someone aboard. For a fee. I won't \npretend the offer is disinterested.' He laughed, and his eyes had a \nfriendly twinkle. 'But my ship is a tight seaworthy craft, built for \nspeed. I think you are concerned about getting there as quickly as \npossible. Am I right?' \n'Yes. Since this young man is not well,' said Aristotle, looking at \n221 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nPannenion, freshly metamorphosed again into the excuse and \nexplanation for our journey and our haste. \n'Sorry to hear it. Reason to hope - Kos is the healing island, after \nall. I am a native ofKos. Nikias of \nKos, at your service. My ship is the \nNike. It is good to name a boat after victory. Though it's a sort of \ncompliment to my name too - Nikias. She skims along like a bird. \nUsed to be named The Swallow. I assure you, sirs, my men are first-\nclass rowers. And we also carry sail. As you see.' \nCaptain Nikias had drawn us to the quayside by his ship, and we \ncould see the men arranging the sail about the mast, mending ropes \nand examining their oars. \n'It will not inconvenience you? You really can leave today?' \n'Certainly. We have little cargo, but we carry marketable stones, \nrough marble pieces, as ballast, so it won't pitch bad. We should get \ngoing smartly. The longer you wait, the more stonns you run into, my \nexperience. ' \n'Aristotle,' I said, 'this seems like a godsend. Let us go - and get as \nsafely away from stonns as we can.' \nAristotle, frowning, made his calculations, and then paid off the \ncrew of the Eudaimonia, and told Phokon and Pannenion to board \nthe new craft. The Nike looked comfortable enough, although slightly \nmore slender than the keles we had been on earlier, with a much more \npointed prow. 'I dare say,' said Aristotle, following my gaze, 'that this \nwas an active warship once, and that explains the prow. The Nike \nseems well built - carries a larger sail than our other ship.' \n'Built for speed. I promise you that. Once one of ships in \nAlexander's service. And we have a large crew. As well as myself, \nthere is a mate to assist in navigation and management, and a \nboatswain to chant the keleusma. So we can go on without a break -\neven at night, if need be. And, as all of us can take an oar when \nnecessary, we can get up much more speed than that other craft -' \nwith a glance towards the Eudaimonia. \n'I dare say you charge accordingly,' said Aristotle, smiling, 'but I \n222 \n\n\nSTORM AT SEA \ncertainly have no objection to the extra crew if it means more speed, \nsince speed is a consideration with us. As 1 told you, we are anxious \nto take our invalid boy to Kos without delay.' He glanced at the pale \nParmenion. \n'Shall we prepare to cast oft?' \n'No - no. First we must invite the family with the sick child to come \nwith us. That was a promise, Stephanos, and promises to gods and \nmen - and not least to children - must be honoured.' \nPhokon was sent on this errand. People hanging around the wharf \nside in hopes of \nearning a hemi-obol or two knew where the strangers \nlodged and promised to conduct him to their door. Meanwhile, we \nwere arranging our own baggage ourselves, when 1 heard an all too \nfamiliar voice: \n'One of \nyou sailors will have to carry or catch me on account of \nmy \nlame leg. And put the dog's basket in first.' \nTo my astonishment, Doris and her dog were preparing to embark \nalso. Aristotle went hastily over to her, standing in her way so she \ncould not easily get on board. \n'Woman, 1 thought we were saying farewell today. 1 thought you \nwished to return to Delos. You can go back to Delos. Farewell now. 1 \nhad not promised to carry you to Kos! Our agreement was to take you \nback to Naxos only.' \n'Sir! Oh, 1 won't be any trouble! 1 need to go to Kos, too! Oh please! \nYou know well why. 1 will not embarrass you and myself by talking of \nsuch matters in front of \nothers.' She put her hand to her belly, leaving \nour overhearers free to imagine that she had some woman's malady \nwhich prompted her desire for Kos. 'I will be better if! can get to Kos. \nAnd you will find me utterly faithful. You can count on my fidelity. 1 \ncan be entrusted with anything, sir. Always reliable. Always. If \nyou let \nme go to Kos.' \n'It's not really -' \n'Otherwise -' Doris continued, as if \nshe had not heard him, 'I'm so \nscared of what might happen! Nobody wants to die, sir, we have to \n223 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF UFE \nconsider that. I'm a poor weak creature, and when things pain me I \ncannot stand it. I do not want to die.' \nHer whole speech struck me as remarkably clever, coming from a \nslave - and a woman at that, a poor limping creature to boot. \nAristotle's face twitched. He understood all too well. I did too. Doris \nhad power over us, for she could tell her interrogators that Aristotle \nand I had been visiting Aristodamos at the time that Aiskhines had \nbeen killed, and that we knew about the corpse. If \nAristodamos had \nmade any efforts to change the body's location, Doris' testimony \nwould make matters much worse for him. She had managed to tell us \nall this in adroit secret-keeping speech. Her fear, however genuine \nand however great, clearly had not stupefied her wits. \n'Come aboard, then,' was all Aristotle said. And Doris, with many \nexcuses and complaints about her own clumsiness, was helped \naboard by the sailors, and settled as of \nyore beside the whining dog in \nhis wicker box. The family with the little girl came alongside too. \nCaptain Nikias looked at this domestic group a little dubiously. \n'You sure you wish to come aboard? I wouldn't advise it. If \nI were \nyou, I'd stay here. Wait for your other ship. The seas are high and we \nshall pelt through the steep waves. People often have to endure great \ndiscomfort before they reach their journey's end.' \n'Oh, yes, we must go. The sooner the better, now we are on our \nway,' said the grandfather Hermippos. The little family, with their \ndiminutive slavewoman, were helped aboard. The child Philokleia \nwas wheezing piteously; her grandfather claimed it was because of \nthe \ndust, and the dirt of \nthe household in which they had been staying. \n'She'll be better at sea, I hope,' he said. \nIndeed, the child's eyes brightened as the captain lent her his hand \nto help her get on the ship, and she smiled at him as we cast off. I too \nfelt the consolation in being again in the care of a captain, a strong, \nreliable and attentive person who knew how to manage the ship and \nseas, and how to take care of us all. Harkening once more to the \nfamiliar and comforting rhythm of \nthe keleusma and dipping oars, we \n224 \n\n\nSTORM AT SEA \nproceeded out of \nthe harbour of Naxos. Once more we were in what \nI thought of as Aristotle's world of \nlight and colour. Sun shone upon \nthe sea, which grew deeper and darker. \n'How very deep a blue the water is now,' I said to Aristotle, really \nin order to say something. If \nwe could not converse about what most \nconcerned us, it would yet seem unnatural for us not to address each \nother. \n'Yes. Like the hue of the Indian gemstone, the hyacinth stone,' \nAristotle replied, looking likewise at the deep waves. \nIn silence we watched for a long while as Naxos receded. Naxos, \nsplendid in the rich midday sun, its glowing peaks like marble waves. \nThat lovely island, which now held so foul a secret - and an ugliness \nfrom which we were running away. We seemed always now to be \nfugitives, Aristotle and myself. But this was more starkly serious than \nthe mysterious unpleasantness in Athens. Aiskhines' death was more \nfinal, the mystery of his killing more grim and urgent than mere \nmenaces, however grotesque. Worse (from our point of view, at \nleast), Aristotle and I were now implicated in a murder. Suppose \nAristodamos felt his safest course was to go to the magistrates and \ncomplain about us? The noble Naxian might be ready to sacrifice us \nto the law, and his slave housekeeper to torture. Then the woman \nwould certainly scream out all she could about our own presence and \nthe likelihood that the visiting strangers had killed the sailor. Neither \nAristodamos nor his housekeeper, however, would be able to supply \nany motive for our killing our good-hearted captain. But as there was \nnothing to stop them from inventing motives, that was small comfort. \nWorst of all, we were certainly in the way of a determined killer. \nThe decorous functioning of the law offered us all a bare chance at \nlife, at least. In the time it would take to transport Aristotle and myself \nback to Athens in chains, perhaps new information would come to \nlight. But a man determined to slice your throat is quicker and more \nlethal than the law. Unlike a jury, such a man does not stop to wrangle \nover niceties, like a rhetorician, but goes straight to his point. Were \n225 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nwe perhaps genuinely obnoxious to the killer? Were we just in his \nway? Or were we mere bystanders? Perhaps this unknown murderer's \nquarrel was simply with the seafaring Aiskhines. \nI puzzled over the motive, but could make little headway. Either \nsomebody in Aristodamos' house had killed our poor captain, or he \nwas followed to the place, and to the orchard, when he came up those \nlong hills from the port. Why was the captain in the orchard, ifhe was \ncoming to speak to us? Why had he come to Aristodamos' estate at \nall? What - or whom - had he seen that made him wish to speak \nurgently to Aristotle? So anxious that he was willing to give himself \nthe trouble and fatigue of \nthat long uphill journey. Some man he had \nseen - but whom? Something he had overheard - but what? If \nAiskhines' death involved some dishonest professional business on \nhis part, such as secret trading and tax avoidance, he and criminal \nconfederates might fall out. But that should not have involved us. \nI longed to talk about all this with Aristotle, but could not. We were \nunder great constraint. It was necessary to ensure that the new crew \ndid not suspect anything untoward, and we also had to keep our \nsecrets from the little family from Laurion. Aristotle and I watched \nDoris, and she watched us - like inimical hawks. Doris did nothing \nremarkable, and prosed on to the women about her aches and pains, \nor her need to use the pot, in a highly normal manner. \n'Now gentlemen - and ladies too' - Nikias smiled at the child \nPhilokleia - 'I must warn you that we have a long voyage ahead. We \ncross the Aegean here. It's not like hopping around the Kyklades. We \ncan stop for a while in Amorgos, but it would be going out of \nour way \nto try to take anchorage in any islands after that - any islands of \ngood \nsize are all south of us. So after Amorgos we go straight on eastward \nto Kos. And then the wind will blow and the billows will heave, I \npromise you. It is a long passage for my rowing men, and they must \nnot be disturbed by coming to your aid. They cannot hold your head \nover the basin while you puke! So - bear up and we shall press on. \nGoing quick with the favouring winds we shall soon be at the end, and \n226 \n\n\nSTORM AT SEA \nall our troubles over.' \nWe all attended to this and were internally ready to put up with \nwhatever might befall. Certainly the ship drove on well through the \nwaves, and the waves were great. The short interval on land in Naxos \nhad slightly unfitted me for seagoing again, and I felt queasy the first \nday. I did not much care - bodily discomfort was a distraction from \nthe anxiety that tormented me; I kept pulling my mind away from the \nimage of Aiskhines with his throat cut. \nEven when the water was calm (relatively calm), so that we could \nsee other ships in the nearer distance, I could not really talk with any \nof my companions - at least about anything that mattered. I tended \nto brood in long reverie. I thought penitently of my mother. Dear \nMother, who had always been so kind to me. Mother, who had saved \nmy life by attentive nursing (and also by maintaining the helpful \nfiction that I was at death's door) at a very dangerous time a couple \nof years ago. Now I had sent poor Mother, the only human being on \nearth who loved me fully, away from her own house and into the \nkeeping of a man not really a relative. What a shame! Suppose he \nabused her - Robbed her? Starved her? Suppose Smikrenes -living as \na single man and a kind of widower - took a sexual fancy to her and \npressed his attentions? The thought was too sickening, though it \nseemed absurd. But it was not absurd to question that old peasant's \ntemper. Suppose the ill-humoured man beat my little brother? What \ncould my mother do to prevent it? I had cast my family into danger \nthinking I was guarding them, and had gone off on a wild chase after \nsomeone else's heir. The only thing I had gained from this selfish \njourney so far was to learn what seasickness meant, and to risk severe \ndanger from the law. How did I know that my own foolish quest had \nnot helped to bring an unjust fate upon the unfortunate Aiskhines? \nI hoped to behave better if \nI were allowed to go back to Athens and \nlive in peace. I would amend my life. I would stop spending the family \nmoney so selfishly, going to brothels and buying hot food at public \nstands instead of going home to eat. My mother never expressed any \n227 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \ndisapproval of the brothel-going, which she must have guessed at; \nindeed, she probably considered it necessary for my health. But the \nhot-food stands were a subject of \ncontention between us from time to \ntime. 'A head of a household, Stephanos, does not eat out in the \npublic markets or on the roads! A head of a household - a man who \nis a gentleman - comes home to eat. It is frugal, and means he is keep-\ning an eye on the servants, as well as keeping company with his own \nfamily.' Yes, I would change my ways ... \n'When I get home,' I suddenly informed Aristotle, 'I mean to stop \nspending so much money on prostitutes, and to cut out sausages in \nthe Agora and so on. Completely.' \n'These are evidently good resolutions,' said Aristotle. 'Do not take \na vow or anything of \nthat sort, I beseech you, Stephanos. We so often \nfeel differently once we are on shore.' \nI felt put out, seeing he thought I was making these decisions under \nthe effects of \nseasickness. I had adjusted to the sea by this time, even \nwhen our craft went rapidly. Some other ships had left Amorgos at \nthe same time, and seemed inclined to race us; we encountered them \nsporadically, popping suddenly into view amidst the foam. Even \nspeeding along in the midst of great waters, I was feeling quite well, \nin body, if not in mind. Soon, however, a change ensured that none \nof \nus could feel extremely well. \nAfter a night in which we kept going, under a favourable wind and \nwith half \nof \nthe rowers on watch, another dawn came. This dawn was \nhazy and misty, with a whiteness over the sky. It felt hot and stuffy, \neven here on the deep sea, which was now like the colour of \nskimmed \nmilk. The sUn was, of course, rolling along in his usual path, but \nApollo's orb was hidden by clouds and mist, so that it looked like a \ngold coin rather than the radiant light-giver. \n'Dirty weather ahead,' said the captain. 'Up sail again and see if \nwe \ncan outrun it, men!' \nWe made good headway for a time. Then the breeze slackened, \nand the sail flapped disconsolately. Abruptly, before the mast could \n228 \n\n\nSTORM AT SEA \nbe taken down, the wind reversed itself and blew strongly from the \nnorth-east, spinning us almost completely around. Indeed, I could \nsee that our captain Nikias had to yield to the wind to avoid our \nbeing swept broadsides. He ordered the mast to be taken off and laid \nin the hold, so we now went without sail, only with oars. At least we \nwere in less danger of \nbeing blown to nothing. Suddenly there was a \nlow mutter of thunder. It came after us - so it felt - pursued us \nwith peal after peal. Lightning flashed. Heavy bursts of \nrain fell upon \nus. It \nwas not possible for anyone to stay dry. Aristotle and I and the \nold grandfather and even Parmenion all took a hand at bailing out \nour poor ship as rain and waves sent water upon our craft. As we all, \nmen and women alike, wanted our lives saved, even the women \njoined us - Philokleia and her mother, their old slave and even \ncrippled Doris. \n'All hands stay at oars!' the captain commanded. 'Mind the \nposition - we don't want to be shoved upon Lektera!' The men bent \nat the oars, and strained anxiously to hear his signals heartily ready for \nany manoeuvre that would help us to elude the wildest waves. \nThe storm was an unyielding enemy - and the sea the greater \nenemy. For now, chafed by the winds which were pushing the sea \nfrom different sides, the waves grew immensely tall. We almost \nsurrendered ourselves to the baneful ocean. The waves were now \npeaks like mountain tops, looming over us. It was night, but no moon \nor stars were to be seen. It was totally dark, darkness complete, only \nceasing to be absolute deprivation oflight when the bolts from heaven \nflew for a moment across the sky. \nThe sea was pitch black in the shadow of the darkness. Our ship \nnow rode up towards the invisible heavens, now fell with a plunge \ninto the interminable black gulf \nwhere death awaited us. Death began \nto seem quite welcome. The wind was behaving very strangely -\nwinds, rather, puffing at us from all sides, so they blew about in circles \nbringing water up from the deeps to spray upon us - as if \nwe needed \nmore! The whole universe was awhirl around us, with the sky-fire \n229 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nleaping from time to time across the heaven, sometimes shooting at \nand hitting the water close by us, or so it seemed. Eventually more \nfire joined in the game, with odd flashes of \nlight dancing above us, like \nstars but much closer. Nikias addressed these round bits offrre as the \nDioskouroi, Heaven's Twins. He and the sailors said prayers aloud to \nthem, as these peculiar balls of light flame rolled about us. Some of \nthe sailors said this was a saving sign. Then the balls of fire \ndisappeared, and we were left in dark rain, dark wind, dark water \nonce more. \nI had long wished for death, and yet I kept on bailing out, throwing \nmy pathetic bucketful of water overboard as more came in. On and \non, the same relentless powers, the same darkness ... it was impos-\nsible to tell if \nit was still night, or if \nthe day had continued to be as the \nnight had been. At last I thought I felt a slackening in the violence of \nthe waves, and the rain actually ceased to fall. This respite allowed us \nto advance in our work, and the water level in the hold began visibly \nto diminish. Now some of \nthe sailors could be spared to help us bail, \nand that made us feel better than we had done for a long time. We felt \nbetter too when a thin strip of light amid the clouds promised some \ndaylight at last. \n'Captain! A ship! - North - just north!' \nThe youngest member of the crew drew the captain's attention to \na ship in the distance to our left. \n'Who knows whether that's north, you monkey,' growled one of \nthe \nolder men. 'No stars in the night, and we've been turning around like \na scrap of bark in a cascade. Heaven knows which way we're \npointing.' \n'I say the monkey is right,' said Captain Nikias. 'It is north. And \nthis is morning - later than dawn, but still a morning by the look of \nit, \nand therefore we know what way is east. Put up the sail, boys!' \nI watched eagerly in the sluggishly growing light as we drew closer \nto the other vessel. Even before we got to it, it was obvious that it was \na large passenger ship. Not a trireme, yet a long vessel with two \n230 \n\n\nSTORM AT SEA \ncomplete banks of oars and a capacious hold. It was certainly big \ncompared to our own craft. Only, as we got close to it, we could see \nthat this big ship had suffered terribly in the storm. The sailors had \nnot been able to ship the mast and remove the crossbar holding the \nsail, and this yardarm hung in splinters, with some tangled shreds of \nsail around it. \n'Captain! We can easy go on board! Can we-' \nTo my suprise the captain gave the excited youth a terrific blow \nacross the face. It was a wonder the boy had a jaw left. He wobbled \non his feet, and his eyes stared nearly out of his head. Yet he was \nwell disciplined enough to say nothing. \n'Hush, you monkey!' said the captain. 'Quiet, or there's more \nwhere that came from! Men in their business doesn't want to be \ndisturbed by boys' babbling or yapping. Deciding what to do - you \nleave that to your betters. Let's see what the matter is.' \nWe cruised with relative ease, given the still-heaving water, and \nwith admirable efficiency our craft drew level and hung off beside \nthe injured ship. \nNow we could see how the mast had suffered. A burned or \nscorched spot on the ship's side clearly showed that it must have \nbeen struck by lightning. The vessel was listing markedly, and men \nwere bailing with frantic haste. We could hear a low moaning from \ninjured passengers, though whether these were victims of lightning \nbolt or falling objects or just seasickness I could not tell. \n'Shall we board and -' \n'Hush, boy. Let me speak to her captain first.' Captain Nikias \nhailed the other ship, and the distraught captain came over to talk \nwith us. \n'We can assist you, probably,' said Nikias. 'Do you want us to \ncome on board? Many passengers injured? How about your crew?' \n'Oh, sir!' The captain of \nthe thunderstruck ship was visibly shaken. \n'Five men swept overboard - five good oarsmen! And two passengers. \nWe have about one hundred passengers on board. Some of \nthese are \n231 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nimportant men, bearing messages for Alexander. So it would be a \ngreat service if you could take them on your ship, seeing as you are \nundamaged. You're bound for - ?' \n'For Kos,' said Captain Nikias. 'And I could. For a fee. Nowhere \nelse than Kos, mind.' \n'Should do. I think most were going to Rhodos - that's near Kos. \nSomeone is going to what used to be Halikamassos,' responded the \ncaptain of \nthe damaged vessel. 'We would be glad to set them on their \nway,' he continued, his tone expressing a limited relief. 'They could \nput in a good word for me, too, and say it wasn't my fault but the \nstorm's. We are bound to be late.' \n'As I can swear, too, in your excuse,' said Nikias. 'But your ship is \nnot in mortal danger, seemingly, though it's surely damaged. Unless \n- what's making her list so bad to one side?' \n'Cargo of woollens and hides,' said the unfortunate captain \nruefully.' Just our luck! Of course the water has saturated them.' \n'Best toss them all overboard,' said Nikias curtly. \n'Aye, and we've still got to patch up the vessel before we can go on. \nLuckily, we have our spare mast, and some cloth for a sail, though it's \nsoaked.' \n'Well, we'd best leave you to all your repair work, neighbour, and \nbe going on. Give me a few male passengers. No women, at any price. \nAnd no more than ten. Put out the grapples men, easy, so as to go \nalongside. ' \nThe two ships were held together by grappling-hooks, and there \nwas now a scrambling among the dishevelled passengers. Several \ncame clamouring to us swearing they were carrying important \ndispatches - several whose claims others seemed inclined to dispute, \nincluding the sailors belonging to the distressed ship. \n'That one's no more carrying dispatches than my aunt!'one sailor \nsaid in disgust, firmly, removing a passenger who was trying to climb \nacross to our ship. Luckily, the crying women and children made no \nattempt to move. But the important men were eager to escape their \n232 \n\n\nSTORM AT SEA \ninjured craft, and a group soon gathered; these personages were more \nor less decorously pushed into the Nike. \n'And you, citizen Koriskos, are you not coming with us?' one of \nthose who had just joined us entreated his companion, who was \nstanding on the splintered deck of \nthe injured boat. \n'No,' said this calm citizen, steadily surveying us. 'I am quite well \nwhere 1 am, thank you. 1 and my embassy will continue on this vessel. \nWithout paying extra. 1 think here we know the worst.' \n'But the vessel may sink! You will drown!' \n'And it may not, and 1 may live. Who knows what safety is?' \nKoriskos shrugged. 'Somehow, 1 think 1 shall get my embassy to \nAlexander and his generals. We shall do our best to keep dry, and to \nget there unbroken.' \n'Well- who'd have thought it!' The new arrival turned to us, in \norder to have someone to whom to express his wonderment. 'That \nship has been through - 1 cannot tell you! It must be ready to fall \napart. How Koriskos can trust her 1 do not know.' \n'No accounting for tastes,' said Nikias, making ready to set off \nagain. \nHis men rather sullenly unhooked the grapples, while Aristotle \nleaned forward and spoke to the other ship: 'Good citizen Koriskos, \n1 know you, and 1 knew your father. Pray, when you arrive in Asia on \nyour embassy, remember me, Aristotle, to Alexander, and to my \nnephew Kallisthenes. 1 am Aristotle of Stageira, dweller in Athens.' \nKoriskos stared. 'You there, Aristotle - the philosopher? 1 recollect \nyou. How goes it with you?' \n'I am travelling here, on the ship of Nikias of Kos, with my friend \nStephanos of Athens and my student Parmenion. We are well \nenough, despite a testy night. 1 hope you are the same. Our captain \nNikias is very able. 1 wish you a good journey, by all the gods, and \ngood speed!' \nAristotle sat down again, under the grumbling of \nthe men who were \nhastening to get out their oars and settle on their benches. They \n233 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nseemed put out, perhaps because of the extra work after a long hard \nnight. They had suffered delay, and now an addition to their load. \nOur mast was put up and we went off, leaving the damaged vessel to \nget rid of its sodden cargo and patch itself up as best it might. The \nmen who had joined us gave fussy thanks for their deliverance, and \nsettled themselves. I thought they might have had more compassion \nfor their former fellow-passengers, still stuck on the dangerous listing \nvessel. But then, I too was thankful that our ship was whole and \nsound (more or less), and that we were speeding forward to Kos once \nmore. \n'That's a relief,' said Aristotle. \n'You mean that the sun's out and we're on our way.' \n'Yes, that. And that I spoke to Koriskos. Now Alexander will know \nwhere we are.' \n'Or where we were,' I pointed out. \n234 \n\n\nXIV \n==~9_P~= \nc)'-'G\" \nThe Healing Island \nThe day grew brighter, the sea a little calmer, and we made our way, \nnot without difficulty, towards our destination. \n'Got blown off \na bit,' said Nikias. 'We're nearer Cape Lektera than \nI'd like. Dangerous rocky sort of place. See, if Kos is like a big fish, \nthen Lektera's the tail, and we want to get to the fish's mouth, so to \nspeak. To the new city and port of Kos near the shrine to Asklepios \nand so on. There was an old city, in the south-west of \nthe island - but \nthat was destroyed by the Spartans.' \nWe agreed that we wanted the port of \nthe new city of \nKos, near the \nAsklepion. We went on fast enough, after more bailing. The men \nwere tired and inclined to ill-humour; I noticed they spoke in \ndisparaging tones of the large ship. 'An old tub, warped and crazy-\ntake everything to the bottom with her, so she will,' one sailor \nremarked gloomily. 'Oh well,' rejoined his companion, 'not much \nloss. Cargo was only wools and hides.' I felt disgusted at his lack of \nfeeling - if not for the passengers, then for the vessel's oarsmen. \n'Now you see,' said Nikias, 'the advantage of \nour little cargo. Rough \nstones of marble. Ballast when we want 'em, and cargo if and when \nwe like. Seawater does them no good, but no great harm either - and \n235 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nthey don't swell up and cause trouble. I'd hate to be a shipper of \ngrain! Hides is about the worst in a long run, it's so hard to throw 'em \noverboard once they've swole up. Stones, now, they're easy tossed \nover if \nneed arises. And we can sell the marble without much trouble \n- carvers here can make it into plaques and small figures and so on.' \nWe sailed into the harbour of Kos eventually, for which we gave \nproper thanks to the gods who had seen us though our dangerous \njourney. The little family were especially vocal regarding their inten-\ntion of going to the local shrines as soon as they could, in order to \noffer particular thanks to Poseidon and also to the Dioskouroi, the \nHeavenly Twins, who appear as rescuers in moments of \ncrisis and had \nappeared to us in balls of \nfire aboard the Nike. The landing itself was \neasy; Kos harbour was nicely fitted up with a good mole. 'Had to be,' \nsaid Nikias, when 1 commented on this fact. 'Alexander used it for his \nfleet for a bit.' \nAt last the feet of myself, Aristotle, Parmenion and Phokon tasted \ndry land. Although we walked in a rather wobbly fashion, we gave \nhearty thanks to be on firm ground. The easy harbour offered a \nsmiling prospect. The city, climbing up the gentle hills and spilling \naround its port, looked, at first glance, a prosperous place. Aristotle \npaid off \nthe captain Nikias, adding a gift to his men for bringing us so \nsuccessfully through the storm. The men still seemed contentious, \nhowever, perhaps because they feared they would not get their share \nof \nthe payment. 1 saw them as we turned away, arguing - a couple of \nthem quite fiercely - with Nikias. \nWe were too tired to go far for a residence, and took lodgings at the \nfirst place we could find. Doris insisted on coming with us. 'Just until \n1 can get word to my mistress,' she explained. 'I want to stay with \nrespectable folks.' The little family too was looking for lodgings with \nus, and we all came to the same house, one respectable enough for \nDoris and large enough for all of \nus. It \nwas quite a nice house, really, \nand the garden was large enough to allow us men to sleep out of \ndoors, in the coolness. Of \ncourse the mother and the little girl were to \n236 \n\n\nTHE HEALING ISLAND \nsleep indoors. Best of all, we told the people that Doris was acting as \nour slave, and she had to go to the kitchen quarters and gut fish. \nThe owner of the house was a fishennan at least part of the time, \nand he ensured a steady supply of \nfood from the sea. So we ate well, \nwith fresh olives and grilled fish and fresh beans and green stuff, and \nloaves just cooked by our landlady. They promised us better fare on \nthe morrow, and an abundance of fruit including fresh figs and \napples. \n'The vegetables and fruit on Kos are justly celebrated,' said \nAristotle. 'This is the best watered of these islands, known for the \nperfection of its air and its waters. Hence Hippokrates and others \nhave chosen it as their centre for health. This is a centre for the \nservice of \nAsklepios and it is known for the training of doctors.' \nDuring this brief lecture the grandfather and the mother looked \nanxiously at the child Philokleia. She was not wheezing or coughing; \n1 thought that Kos might prove of \nbenefit after all. Nikias of \nKos had \ntold us this was the healing island. 1 myself felt relief and pleasure, as \nif! had just recovered from an illness - really, as 1 had been delivered \nfrom the sea. \n'I wish 1 could stay here,' 1 said to Aristotle. 'Unfortunately 1 must \nleave this wholesome island and go on to Rhodos to look for my \nprospective bride's uncle.' \n'Wait until we have made some enquiries here,' he advised. \n1 was anxious to talk to Aristotle alone. At last there were no sailors \nabout to overhear us. Doris was shaken off, doing servant's work in \nthe house. 1 recommended that Parmenion take a rest in the orchard \nwith Phokon to look after him. Then Aristotle and 1 were able to go \nfor a quiet stroll in a secluded place, and at last 1 could repeat to him \nthe questions 1 had asked of myself: What had our good captain \nAiskhines seen - or heard - that made him decide to come after us all \nthe way up those hills to Aristodamos' house? Was he really trying to \nspeak to us? Was it barely possible that he was bound on some other \nbusiness altogether - smuggling, for instance, or some love intrigue -\n237 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nso that he just happened to find himself \nin Aristodamos' garden - and \nto find himself dead? \n'These questions,' said Aristotle, 'are the same as I have asked \nmyself. The sea journey gave me leisure for silent reflection, but no \nanswers. I think as you do, that it is unlikely that the captain had any \nbusiness in the hills of Naxos other than what concerned ourselves. \nFrom what the sailor said, it is likely that he saw something or \noverheard a remark of importance. Perhaps some facts just fitted \ntogether suddenly in his mind.' \n'Miltiades,' I said hesitantly. 'The sailor thought it odd that \nMiltiades made so much ado over shipping one not very large statue. \nOf course, it might be of value for its antiquity, and sailors aren't \njudges of art. But did Miltiades try to get our sailors out of the way \nfor a while? And was he disappointed that they performed their task \nso expeditiously?' \n'I agree that the part played by Miltiades is not clear. He may be \njust a businessman. It sticks in my mind that he was very anxious to \ntell the magistrate in Delos that we were involved in a murder and \na disappearance. Yet he came to our ship, all smiles, the next day. \nSomething not quite right there. Our good captain, an intelligent \nman, may have made some deductions of his own. It seems most \nprobable that Aiskhines came to Aristodamos' dwelling in order to \nwarn us of \nsomething. But he was killed before he could talk.' \n'Nobody alerted the household,' I observed. 'If \nAiskhines came late \nat night, he was an intruder and the house-dog should have barked. \nOr Doris' dog. But there was no noise in the night time.' \n'No dog did anything in the night time,' agreed Aristotle. \n'Aristodamos suspects that his own house-dog had followed one of \nthe slaves, who is the dog's great favourite. The slave either didn't \nnotice (which is what he will say) or he encouraged the animal to join \nthe party (more likely). As for Doris' lame dog, she must have left it \nmuzzled, so it physically could not bark. Hard to keep a dog from \nbarking any other way. Even if it knows the person - if that person \n238 \n\n\nTHE HEALING ISLAND \nunexpectedly turns up on the premises late at night, a dog will bark.' \n'Even if muzzled, it should have whined. Of \ncourse,' I speculated, \n'perhaps it is as well we didn't awaken and investigate when Aiskhines \ncame. An investigator might have been murdered as well.' \n'Possibly so. Somewhere, Stephanos, there is a determined enemy \nat work. Remember the events on Delos and Mykonos. An attempt \nwas made in Delos to prevent us from moving on, with the suspicion \nof \nfoul play - the blood on the ship. Philokhoros - of \nwhom we know \nnext to nothing! - having caught our attention, was actually spirited \naway, by persons unknown, who took a great deal of trouble to \ninveigle him away and tie him up. His slave boy was possibly stolen -\nor possibly acted in collusion (either forced or voluntary) with the \nkidnappers. And Philokhoros, the unfortunate man who was nearly \nthrown to the pigs, must have been decoyed away - did you notice \nthis? - just at the time we were talking to Doris' mistress.' \n'I didn't like that woman,' I agreed. 'Nor do I like her slave Doris \nany better.' \n'And now Doris seems almost part of \nour household. By the way, I \nhope you noticed how adeptly I have evaded the charge of slave-\nstealing, by indicating that we have borrowed the slave - indicating our \nintention to pay. I wish that dreadful Kardaka would reclaim her \nproperty! But I wonder if we'll see that lady again. Perhaps her \npurpose has been served. Was she a tool? But whose? And why? Yet, \nit is suspicious, Philokhoros' abduction and being tied up coinciding \nwith our being tied up - metaphorically only - in the interview with \nKardaka.' \n'But it may just be a coincidence. After all, our interview with \nKardaka wasn't actually very long. You know, we really spent much \nmore time going up the hill Kynthos and looking at the view. And that \nwas at my insistence - Philokhoros may have been abducted because \nI wanted to see the shrine of \nHerakles and the view from Kynthos. So \nit is my fault too, in a way.' \n'If \nyou have a fault, Stephanos,' said Aristotle, laughing, 'it is that \n239 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nyou are somewhat too fond of \nstrenuous uphill walks to make you the \nideal companion for an old person. Philokhoros' abduction is not \nyour fault. Philokhoros - who is he? We know only what he has told \nus. We do not know why he was abducted in that manner. What \npurpose could it possibly serve?' \n'Maybe,' I suggested, 'Philokhoros has an enemy of his own who \nwants to finish him oft?' \n'Why didn't this enemy do it, then?' Aristotle retorted. 'If the \nmurderer brought him to the brothel, he had the perfect chance for \nmurder. Or is Philokhoros in possession of some secret - and was he \nsecured in the pigpen so he could later be interrogated by this \n\"Solon\"? Was Philokhoros really abducted, or was he pretending -? \nNo, it is nonsense to think any man of \nbirth or breeding would allow \nhimself to be bound and tossed in the pigpen for a stratagem.' \n'Now what will happen? What do you think Aristodamos will do? -\nhas done?' \n'Aristodamos,' mused Aristotle, 'is a man of exceedingly good \nreputation, and very ancient lineage, who has the happiness not to be \noverlooked by a lot of \ninquisitive neighbours. He had with him when \nwe left one devoted servant, a woman terrified for her life. She would \ndo anything to aid him and avert disaster. Aristodamos is an \nintelligent man.' \n'Do you mean, he will give us up to justice - if he can make some \nsort of \nbargain about her?' \n'Oh, do think, Stephanos! But there,' he caught himself, 'who am \nI to say that I am such a prophet I can certainly tell what Aristodamos \nwill do? I know what I think he will have done after we left. He will \ntake the rational way out of the difficulty, if he can. I think the body \nof Aiskhines will be discovered - probably by now it has been \ndiscovered - well away from Aristodamos' \"Apple Place\". Probably \nin some ravine or vale among those steep Naxian hills. Most likely we \nshall eventually hear that the body of \nAiskhines has been transported \nto Athens in the Eudaimonia by his crew, and that these injured and \n240 \n\n\nTHE HEALING ISLAND \npuzzled sailors, along with the family of the murdered man, are \ndemanding justice of \nthe authorities. There will be proclamations and \nquestions. \n' \n'So in any case our names will come up?' \n'Our names will inevitably be mentioned - if \nnot sooner, then later. \nIt is not unlikely that a magistrate in one of \nthese islands will eventually \nget hold of \nus. We need to make some good local friends as quickly as \npossible. Also, I was not lying when I said in my farewell speech that I \nhad an embassy for Alexander. I have already sent messages to Asia to \nadvise some of the Makedonian leaders that I shall be near the Asian \ncoast. Luckily, because of \nParmenion's poor health, I alerted them in \nthe spring to the possibility that either Theophrastos or I might be \ngoing to the islands, and I let them know of \nmy departure as soon as I \nknew it myself. I am hoping soon to receive an official message in \nreturn, and that could protect us until we get out of the shadow of \nAiskhines' murder. So -' he turned to gaze towards the town - 'after I \nhave sent a message to advise Oromedon of Kos that we are here, let \nus walk into Kos town, where I can make enquiries for some other \npersons I know of. Then we can go to the Asklepion.' \nReturning to our lodgings, Aristotle sent off his note and I invited \nParmenion and Phokon to walk with us. The family from Laurion \nwere anxious to put Philokleia under the care of a doctor, and \nAristotle promised to find a good one for them. When we got into the \ntown, we found it was not as charming as it had first appeared. A \nnumber of what had been houses were simply piles of rubble with a \nfew fragmentary remains of \nwalls. I pointed this out to Aristotle. \n'Some were ruined by the last great earthquake, I think,' he replied. \n'But the town doesn't look as cheerful as it used to, and one must \nadmit, these look like very modem ruins. Presumably the result of \nsevere fighting at the time Alexander took the harbour. Alexander's \narmy is very good at using missiles to destroy buildings. It was only \nthree years ago that he took this island. Before that, you will recall, it \nwas a Persian safety zone. The Persian commander Memnon had \n241 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nescaped to Kos.' He cast a worried glance at Pannenion. 'There \nwasn't much fighting here,' he added reassuringly. 'It was a famous \nand favoured port, and the island valued as a good source of \nprovisions. Kos did not suffer too badly, by all accounts - not as badly \nas it did in our war against Sparta.' \nYet it became impossible not to notice the ravages of war. In the \nKyklades men had spoken of \nwar - but veritable war itself \nhad passed \nthis way. We began to be accosted by beggars. Numbers of persons \nwere encamped in Kos and its outskirts, living a ragged and \nprecarious existence. There was much crying of children and a deal \nof dirt and refuse, beside the harbour and in nearby areas. \n'These are surely not Koans!' Aristotle exclaimed, as we went up a \ngentle slope away from the smell of \nthe worst of \nthe ragged camps. 'I \nremember Kos as so enlightened and civilized, so clean -' \n'No,' said a middle-aged man nearby, a tall man with a rippling \nbeard, who had caught this exclamation. 'These people are unfortu-\nnates in flight from Asia - people who have lost their cities. Many are \nfrom ruined Halikarnassos. Look yonder.' He pointed. 'You can \nmake out a headland from here. We see the side of \nthe Myndos cape, \nthat some call the Cape ofHalikarnassos. That great city is - was - on \nthe southern side. You cannot see it from here, because of the cape, \nand the city's harbour is masked by two little islands, but \nHalikarnassos is not far off.' \nCertainly, I could see land, bluish and dim in the morning mist but \nnot remote, rising on the immediate horizon. My first sight of \nAsia! \nMy blood quickened. Now I was truly in another part of \nthe world. \n'Halikarnassos, a great city. Entirely destroyed. It was smitten by \nprojectiles and its walls battered down. Its soldiers - and many \ninhabitants who were not soldiers - were put to the sword amid great \ntumult. And the whole city was set on fire.' \n'Yes,' I said, 'I have heard about that.' But the young man who told \nthe history had seemed to me then - only a few months ago! - merely \na teller of \nexotic tales. My notion of \nthe real was changing, or perhaps \n242 \n\n\nTHE HEALING ISLAND \nthe real was changing as I looked at it, as in Aristotle's translucent and \niridescent world. \nMeanwhile, the man with the rippling brown beard (streaked with \ngrey) was looking fixedly at Aristotle. 'Don't I know you?' he asked. \nAristotle gazed back. 'By the sons of \nAsklepios - it is Iatrokles!' \n'So I am recognisable, at least, old friend - with sufficient prompt-\ning. And I know you, though we both have aged. You are Aristotle of \nStageira.' \n'You may claim me as that and as your friend in medicine,' said \nAristotle, embracing this man cordially. 'How could I not recognise \nyou straight away? My eyes are not as good as they once were, I fear, \nand my mind was elsewhere. Times have changed since we studied \ntogether the arts of medicine.' He turned to me. 'Let me introduce \nStephanos of Athens. Stephanos, this is Iatrokles, one of the best \ndoctors in Kos - which means the best in the world.' \n'A practitioner in the mystery, and a searcher for truth, nothing \nmore,' said Iatrokles. 'There is so much more to do and to know.' \nThe two men settled themselves on some sun-warmed steps \nlooking down on the harbour and continued their conversation, while \nI hovered nearby. \n'How do you get on?' asked Aristotle, when some questions as to \nthe fates and fortunes of several acquaintances had been asked and \nanswered. 'And what is Kos like now?' \n'Well, it has suffered from the war, though less than many other \nplaces. The Persian military, when they retreated here and defended \nthis island, allowed us doctors both to study and practise, just as the \nPersians had always done before. Now that Makedon has taken over, \nwe go on now much as we did. We get a few well-off pilgrims in \nsearch of health, even now. But there are numbers of people here \nwithout a home or a city any more, and so there is a constant call for \nour services. To people who cannot pay.' \n'That kind of patient is never difficult to find,' commented \nAristotle. \n243 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF UFE \n'But we must regard this troublous time as an opportunity. Kos' \nsoil is rich and produces good food - you should see the great shrine \nof Demeter, a day's walk from here, by the way. Wheat and \nvegetables. Fish of \ncourse. Kos still has what it always had - excellent \nand abundant food and pure water. Clean and lively air, scented by \nsea and pine trees. Hippokrates recommends it above all other places \nfor restoration of \nphysical and mental harmony.' \n'So he does,' said Aristotle. 'My grandfather, who came here to \nstudy at one time, knew Hippokrates,' he added. \n'My grandfather did too,' said latrokles, 'and not only my grand-\nfather but my father saw him as a boy. Our family is long-lived. \nIndeed,' turning to me, 'you should think of \nstaying here, young man. \nWe Koans have a fine prospect of \nlife. Now, in such cases as those of \nthe wretched people without a polis who have come here, we can \nexamine whether the conditions offered by Kos do indeed have \ncurative power, and for what ailments or bodily states they work best. \nIf \nwe can improve the health of some of \nthese wretches, then indeed \nall our claims can be justified. Also, we shall have a much clearer idea \nas to how to go about cures in various cases.' \n'The art of medicine is indeed changing,' said Aristotle. 'For the \nbetter, I think - largely owing to Hippokrates and the school of \nKos. \nHippokrates taught us how to treat medicine as a separate category, \nand how to examine physical phenomena and record them. Once \nmedicine was the province of one tribe alone. But now the school of \nKos is admitting worthy young men who can pay to learn the skill, \nwhether or not they come from the medical lineage. The subject can \nnow advance, and we shall have a sufficient number of \ndoctors.' \n'You have no reason to complain of the old way, Aristotle, as you \nare a descendant of Machaon. And thus rise from the chief medical \nlineage,' said latrokles, laughing. 'And I too descend from Machaon. \nBut my friend and partner Kleumedes is a descendant of Asklepios' \nother son, Podaleirios. Together we cover the whole ground - surgery \nand internal medicine. But the opening of \nthe art to those possessing \n244 \n\n\nTHE HEAliNG ISLAND \nsufficient skill is an excellent innovation. There is far more demand \nthan one family line could meet. Kos can become the centre of an \neven greater school. Of \ncourse we have the advantage of \nthe shrine to \nAsklepios, which will always bring to the island those who seek cure \nor relief. Have you seen the Asklepion?' he asked me. 'No? Oh, you \nshould see it \n- it is one of \nour sights, and not too far away. A pleasant \nwalk, even in summer.' \nThis sounded good in my ears. The harbour area was less attractive \nto me because of \nthe number of \npeople who came to beg from arriving \nand departing passengers, and anyone else. I had given as much as I \ncared to part with. \nWe went back, around the harbour and past our lodging house. We \ncontinued going inland, up some gentle slopes; the road wound \namong groves and orchards. It felt good to be walking in the country-\nside again and I was glad not to be in a vessel, pitching on the waves \nunder the hot sun. We drank from a natural spring on the way, and \ngave thanks to the nymphs. Certainly Kos looked as latrokles the \nageing physician said - lush, fertile, well watered and most pleasant \nto the senses. Little settlements were dotted here and there, mostly \nfarms with outbuildings. \n'Some of these folk are Persian,' the Koan informed us, 'though \nthey keep quiet and don't speak their language out of doors nor \npractise their religion in public these days.' \nIt seemed very strange to me that Persians should be allowed to \nremain on what was now most definitely a Greek island - even if this \nisle had formerly sided with Darius the Great King. For that very \nreason, I should have thought the Greeks and Makedonians would \nhave ruled with a firm hand and got rid of the Persians altogether. I \nsaid as much. \n'But,' said latrokles, 'enough of \nthat kind was done at Halikamassos \n- and elsewhere. Throwing people off \ntheir land! All Koans are against \nit. We argued with Alexander's generals. And, after all, Alexander's \ntroops and navy need the port, even now the navy is so greatly \n245 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nreduced. Kos is wanted for repairing vessels, shipping in supplies, and \nfor sending men home. Sick or wounded army officers come to the \nisland for health. With so much activity here, we need a regular supply \nof food, for Alexander's own convenience. Forcible removal of \nintelligent farmers in Kos would endanger the food supply. So - it has \nseemed wisest to proceed by turning a blind eye to the Persian \npresence on their small but productive farms.' \nWe walked at an easy old-gentleman pace, but even so we arrived \nat the Asklepion in a short time. I could see the advantage of its \nproximity to the port. 'Even invalids - most of them - could walk \nhere.' \n'Yes,' said Iatrokles, 'and it is also easy to bring them by donkey or \nby cart - or by litter.' \n'Just enough effort made to make the journey seem like a pilgrim-\nage,' said Aristotle. 'I had forgotten the beauty and impressiveness of \nthis site.' \nIt was a well-wooded place, with a delightful prospect. On one side \nyou could see all the way to the sea and to Asia beyond. The whole of \nthe centre was a great grove of \ncypresses, with around it a thick wood \nof pine trees. Short lively grass, smelling of thyme, sprang from the \nslopes where we entered. In the midst of \nthe site, a temple to Apollo \nglimmered white and gold. Cicadas chirped their summer song; \nwherever there was no shade the heat moved like waves in the air. \n'This is a sacred grove,' said Iatrokles, 'and the whole wood beyond \nis sacred too. It is forbidden to die or be born there.' \nAgain I felt a slight twinge of \nnervousness, lest I offend against the \ngods by dying in the wrong place. 'There are mineral springs, a little \nfountain and a shrine of the Nymphs. Drink of the water - it has a \ndecided taste,' Iatrokles urged. 'There, you see the shrine of \nAsklepios. Until very recently indeed, there was just the great open-\nair shrine and altar. The altar has become more magnificent, and now \nwe have a small temple to Asklepios.' He pointed this out, a little \nround structure glimmering among the trees. 'We hope,' he con-\n246 \n\n\nTHE HEALING ISLAND \ntinued, 'to have something much bigger - or at least, there is a lot of \ntalk about this in Kos now. For with the establishment of \na really fine \nport, recently enlarged to accommodate great ships, as well as a \nflourishing city (or one that could readily be so again), we could \nafford to make this a first-class temple complex.' \nAs we walked towards the centre, latrokles pointed out the various \nspots of \nground that would do for a much larger sacred precinct. \n'Here we could have the building with underground rooms for the \nincubation of \ndreams,' he explained. 'As well as a truly fine temple to \nAsklepios. With a good road, and some organisation, we could have \ncrowds of \npilgrims. Just imagine them - see them all in white, coming \nup that road yonder!' latrokles pointed back the way we had come. \n'Waving palm and olive branches, singing to divine Apollo and in \npraise of immortal Paieon, and in pleading to Asklepios. A holy \nsound, in tremulous voices. There they come - full of \nhope!' \nWe could almost see the processions of the future, coming to the \nmagnificent temple complex, to the fountains and terraces with \nmarble stairways, the great temple of \nAsklepios with its surrounding \nporticoes, all of \nwhich he had imagined for us. \n'I tell you, we could vie with Delos,' said latrokles, mopping his \nbrow. 'In fact, we are much better than Delos. For look, the site is on \na slope of \nMount Oromedon, which graciously gives us many springs. \nThere are other mineral springs nearby. And we have perpetual fresh \nsweet water, which certainly isn't true in little Delos, a desert in the \nsea. Water is essential for the treatment of \ninvalids.' \n'There is truth in what you say,' said Aristotle. 'The development \nof the sanctuary would go hand in hand with the growth of the \nmedical school in Kos, one feeding the other. For there would be \nenough wealth coming into this island to fund the teaching of \nmedicine and to give teachers and scholars agreeable conditions. The \nglory of \nKos would spread.' \n'But it does so already,' said latrokles confidently. 'Many cities \nwant Koan doctors. Some payout of \npublic funds for a man to come \n247 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nand study with us. Then he must go back and be a doctor for the city. \nThis custom is bound to gain wide acceptance. Alexander and his \nchiefs all want Koan doctors to attend on themselves and even on \ntheir troops. Once all the soldiery who have been made better by \nKoan doctors return home, they will want doctors of Kos for \nthemselves in time of \npeace.' \n'So the war could work out very well for you, in the long run,' \ncommented Aristotle, with a smile. 'This is as you say, \"a beautiful \nsite\",' he added. 'I had forgotten how pure and clear and sweet the \nair is, smelling of pine trees. Let us acknowledge Apollo and \nAsklepios.' \nWe offered a prayer, though not a sacrifice, in the quiet afternoon, \nat both the Temple of \nApollo and the little shrine of \nAsklepios. Small \nas it was, the interior of this shrine was covered in votive offerings, \nwith many more legs, and arms and hands than usual, and some \nuncommon and rather graphic depictions of holes in the torso. 1 \nthought of the last time 1 had been in a shrine of Asklepios with \nAristotle and the now departed Pythias, and looked anxiously at him, \nbut he made no sign of grief. He glanced with professional curiosity \nat the little images. \n'These with holes in their bodies must be military petitioners, \npeople wounded in the war,' he commented. 'But 1 see the familiar \nconcerns of \npeacetime here too - there is a complete image of \na child, \na little girl, offered in thanksgiving by her parents.' He gestured at the \nsilver image; the child seemed to gaze back, round-eyed. \n'That reminds me, we have in our party - or, rather, we have \ntravelled with - a family from Athens, whose only offspring, a little \ngirl, is sickly with what 1 diagnose as asthma. 1 rashly volunteered to \nfind her a doctor. Could you, latrokles, offer your expert knowledge? \nThe family have come intending to pay,' he added. 'But 1 am sorry \nfor the tiny maiden, so if \nthe family cannot rise to the whole fee, 1 shall \npay the remainder.' \n'Think nothing of \nthat,' said latrokles. 'Of \ncourse, 1 shall be glad to \n248 \n\n\nTHE HEALING ISLAND \nhave a look at the child. Asthma is one of the conditions the Greek \ndoctors of Hippokrates' school have been good at defining and \ntreating.' \nWe left the shrine of \nAsklepios, quiet among the trees, and walked \nback to Kos. The short excursion had given us each an appetite, even \nParmenion. We were glad to take some midday food at our lodging, \nwith Iatrokles as our guest. Out in the orchard at the back we \naddressed ourselves to fresh onions, cheese, olives and flat cakes. The \nlandlady was vexed to have to tell us that Doris had suddenly gone, \nsaying only she had instructions as to how to reunite with her mistress. \nWe reassured the landlady, saying that Doris had our permission to \ndepart and we were glad she was able to go home. Certainly, Doris had \nour permission to depart! What a great relief, I felt, not to have to see \nher again. Of course, this loss of a servant meant our landlady was \nshort-handed while trying to feed new lodgers. \n'It is so lovely here, I wish I could stay,' I commented. 'But I must \ncontinue my journey. I wish, however, that I could get a letter from \nAthens before I set out again. I would so like to hear that all is well at \nhome before undertaking this search. We must ask at your friend \nOromedon's house. You know, Aristotle, I must set off for Rhodos -\nfor a more difficult search than I had thought when planning it out. \nFor I do not know Rhodos at all. How hard it is to find one \nunimportant person in a strange place! And I now realise that Rhodos \nis a great large island, much larger than Kos, and yet we have hardly \nseen anything of this island.' \n'Why go to Rhodos? What are you looking for?' Iatrokles asked. \n'I am looking for a particular person. His name is Philokles, son of \nPhilokles. He is a man of Athens - Hymettos in Athens. And uncle \nto the woman I hope to marry.' \n'Ha - skat!' Iatrokles spat an olive stone into the garden with \ndelighted emphasis. 'I believe I know exactly the man you mean. It's \nno good going to Rhodos to look for him. He has been here - in Kos \n- for his health.' \n249 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'Oh!' I jumped up. 'Where is he? Let me find him at once -' \n'Now sit down, young man. Don't get overheated. He's not in Kos \nat this particular time. He and some mistress of his have gone to \nKalymnos. But they'll be back.' \n'You have seen him?' \n'I believe so. He is - or was - the patient of a friend of \nmine.' \n'He is ill? Oh, that could be a dreadful misfortune. Ifhe dies before \nhe hears my news -' \n'I don't think he's anywhere near dying,' said Iatrokles impatiently. \n'And I've seen a sight of dying in my time, too. No, he had pains in \nhis back and joints. Not thinking too much of Rhodos after all -\nterrible windy it is - he came over here. Easy to do with all the \nshipping available these days. Of \ncourse Rhodos is a goodly way from \nhere, it's south and east of us, well beyond the Cape of Knidos. But \nthis man Philokles of Athens came here, and then he took to living \nwith a woman who has some money, and a place of \nher own.' \n'A woman with a place of her own?' It seemed incredible. 'You \nmean a prostitute with a brothel?' \n'No. Not exactly. She's a young widow. Mind, I think she was the \nhetaira of one of Alexander's naval commanders. Her friend the \ncommander set her up with her own house and garden and slaves. So \nas long as the Greeks and Makedonians are in power here, nobody \ndares abuse her, and she was living discreetly until this young \nPhilokles came along.' \n'Well!' My head spun. I had been looking for Philomela's uncle, \nthe brother of the bee-woman, strange but beautiful Philonike. I had \nbeen imagining this uncle as a hard-working dour type of man, \nlabouring hard as a settler in Rhodos. And here I heard of him \ngallivanting about quite another island with a questionable lady. \n'Really!' I was almost cross. 'I have put myself to some trouble on \naccount of this man. I hope he turns up.' \n'They're bound to tum up, as she has her place here - unless he's \nfoolish enough to quarrel with her. He's not married, and he hasn't \n250 \n\n\nTHE HEALING ISLAND \ntoo much of \nhis own, so it's handy for him to have somewhere to live. \nShe's not poor. She has business in Kalymnos too. Sponge fishery.' \n'Stephanos, the gods seem to drop your answer into your lap,' \nAristotle said. 'Instead of another tedious journey, you have only to \nrest in charming Kos and wait for this gentleman and his light-of-Iove \nto return.' \n'That does seem easy,' I admitted. 'Though we don't know when \nhe will come. And I had hoped to deal with a serious man. Now \nPhilokles doesn't sound serious at all.' \n'You'll find back trouble serious enough,' said Iatrokles. 'Ah - and \nwho might this be?' \nWhile we were talking, the family from Laurion had come out into \nthe garden. The mother came veiled and walking slowly. But \nPhilokleia had run over to us. \n'This is your potential patient,' said Aristotle. 'This is Philokleia. \nAnd here is her grandfather - no, don't take the child away. Let me \nintroduce you. Tell Phokon to bring the chairs here so we can all talk \ntogether.' \nOnce we had settled ourselves, the grandfather Hermippos, with \nsome prompting from the child's veiled mother, gave the Koan \ndoctor an account of the little girl's history and malady. Then \nIatrokles asked the child to come over to him, placed her in front of \nhim, and with his large gentle hands felt her chest and throat and \nlistened to her breathing. \n'She is not a bad size for her age,' he said, straightening. 'The \nbreathing does not seem bad, though I detect the labour and uneven-\nness of asthmatic patients. Do you cough, little one?' \n'I used to,' said Philokleia. 'Not at sea, though, and not much in \nKos.' \n'Aha,' said Iatrokles. 'So - we progress already. You live in Attika, \nI know - but where?' \nBefore her elders could answer, the child piped up. 'We live near \nLaurion. It's a big place with a lot of \nmine works, and we live by the \n251 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nbig mines. Not like here - the earth is all tumbled about and poor men \ngo into the holes in the ground and stay there all day.' \n'That is right,' said her grandfather. 'My interests are largely in the \nmining business. I own a washery and a furnace. Laurion is a very \nthriving place now.' \n'In the mine workings - of course!' exclaimed the doctor. 'Lead \nand silver mines. Lots of dust from the earth. Much of the time you \nwould also be breathing dust and smoke from the furnaces for \nmelting metal. Now, it seems to me that the little girl's breathing \ncould be greatly alleviated or even cleared up by remaining in a pure \nair. As she seems to respond well to the sea air, let her stay here for a \ntime. Kos would be perfect for her. Let her take regular exercise, and \neat our good vegetables. And -' he gestured an order - 'bring wine to \nthe table for us.' The red wine was instantly brought, and the doctor \ngazed upon it with a pleased expression. He poured a libation and \nthen ceremonially gave each of us a drink, to mix with water as we \nwished. \n'Hippokrates says \"drink the good wines ofKos\", and I myself \nhave \nbeen endeavouring faithfully to follow that advice my life long. Let \nthe child drink the pure water, with a little wine added. I have often \nfound that such an addition clears up any impurities and enhances \nthe good of \nthe water. Bathe her carefully, and do not let her go about \nwith perspiration drying on her skin, which is another source of \nimpurity.' \n'Well,' said the grandfather, 'you give us reason to hope our little \none will be well soon and running about like other children. And that \nshe will live to be a grown lady, and marry and bear many children, \nas her good grandmother did.' \nThe girl's mother said nothing, but made an impatient gesture with \nher foot. I suppose she did not like being reminded that her own \nfather thought she hadn't done well in childbearing, since she had \nproduced only one child, and that a daughter. \n'Yes - yes,' said latrokles, smiling. 'We could all live longer lives if \n252 \n\n\nTHE HEALING ISlAND \nwe were careful about what we breathed and what water we drank. \nAnd if we were less inclined to eat too much. Yes, little one, stay in \nKos. You will like our island. I will tell you a Koan story, which bears \nout my points.' \nHe took the child on his lap. Sipping our wine and water as the \nafternoon shadows lengthened and the fresh sea-flavoured breeze \nsprang up, we listened as he told us the following tale: \nThe Tale of \nthe Hungry Prince \n'Once upon a time there was a powerful king - let us call him \nKing of Myrmidonia. He was a widower, but still quite young, \nand he fell in love with a beautiful girl called Dimitroula, after \nthe goddess Demeter whom she served faithfully. Of course the \nlovely girl was flattered, a little, when the King told his love and \noffered to marry her. But she rejected him because she was in \nlove with a poor but honest man, who was handsome and kind. \nThe King was furious and he swore he would fight and kill his \nrival, the poor man. They had a great fight in a sacred wood \nbelonging to Demeter, and Dimitroula crept into an oak tree to \nwatch the battle. Now, so it befell, the King did kill the poor \nman who would wed Dimitroula. But that unfortunate \nhandsome poor man wounded the King, so the King died too. \nHis only heirs were his son the Prince and the Prince's young \ndaughter Mestra. \n'Then the King's son, the Prince of Myrmidonia, who was \nclose by, swore that he would take his revenge upon all beings \nwho had compassed his father's killing. So this Prince in his rage \nwent at once to the wood where his father had died, vowing to \ncut down all the trees within the wood in his revenge. His sword \nplunged into an oak tree, slipping through a knot hole in it. And \nthe tree screamed! And the tree bled! When the tree was cut \ndown, the Prince saw the bleeding Dimitroula, pierced by his \nsword and dying. Oh, but the Prince was horrified - and \n253 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nterrified too. He had angered the wood-sprites and the gods! He \nand his men fled away from that wood, but not before he was \ncursed by the goddess Demeter, who was determined to punish \nhim. \n'The goddess Demeter made the Prince of Myrmidonia so \nhungry that he could never be satisfied. Oh, he had an out-\nrageous hunger upon him always! He felt like us before we had \nthe olives and the onions and the flat loaves - but now we feel \nfull. So we aren't hungry any more. The Prince, you see, the \npoor Hungry Prince - he could never feel full. His appetite was \ninsatiable. He used up all his money in buying food to feed \nhimself. You never saw the like of what went into that palace! \nWhy, there was roast meat and boiled meat, of cows and oxen, \npigs, sheep and goats. And geese and ducks and chickens. And \nfish from the sea. - all different kinds of fish, from the sardine \nto the sturgeon. And octopus and sea urchin and cabbage and \nlettuces. Eggs and olives and cheese of \nall kinds, flat and round, \nand herbs. Wheat loaves and barley loaves, and cakes of \nmillet. \nAnd sesame pancakes with honey on top, and more honey \ncakes, and then radishes - and of course lentils. Talents worth \nof lentils boiled and cooked with oil and cooked with cheese, \nand served plain and fancy and made into puddings. And \nrabbit, stewed and roasted, and every kind of sauce. He had \nsixteen cooks, that man! Until he couldn't afford them any \nmore. \n'The Hungry Prince soon spent all the money in his own \npurses and boxes in the palace to buy food. I was going to say, \n\"for his meals\", but the Prince didn't have meals any more in \nthe usual way because there was too much time in between. He \njust had one big meal all the time! Well, eventually even the \nPrince found he could not afford to go on like that. By now, he \nhad spent all the money in his treasury. So he sold his palace \nfurniture and his golden cups to buy food, and then he sold his \n254 \n\n\nTHE HEALING ISLAND \nbronze annour. And then he sold his carved bed and his \ncushions of silk tapestry made in Persia - and all his deceased \nwife's jewellery, which should have been given to his daughter. \nHe even parted with his own gold-leaf \ncrown. Then - he sold the \npots and pans that weren't doing their work any more, and most \nof the spoons and forks and spits in his kitchen. Fifteen of his \nsixteen cooks departed, and he had only the youngest and \npoorest of cooks to work in his cool bare kitchen. Then - what \ndid he have left to sell?' \n'I don't know,' said the little girl. 'Did he sell his own ann?' \n'He would have sold it if anybody had wanted to buy such a \nthing. But he had something that he thought buyers would \nwant. I told you he had a little daughter named Mestra. And he \nsold her!' \n'Oh! That was bad,' said Philokleia. \n'It was - very bad. The goddess wouldn't let him get away \nwith it. So Demeter gave her friend Mestra the gift of changing \nher shape. Her father sold Mestra to a big landowner, who took \nher to the fann on his great estate. Mestra liked this not at all, \nand immediately turned herself \ninto a fox. Then she ran back on \nher little fox legs to her father's palace and changed back again \nto her own shape. Next time, the Hungry Prince sold his \ndaughter to a wealthy jeweller. The wealthy jeweller put a collar \nof \ngold around the young girl's neck, and placed Mestra on a big \nred horse pacing along beside his very big black horse. They \ntrotted off away from the palace, and then they galloped along \nthe road. The jeweller made his big costly horses go faster and \nfaster. \"Soon be home,\" he said to Mestra. But then he saw \nnothing riding beside him on the red horse but a weasel! The \nweasel jumped off her horse, the gold collar slid to the ground, \nand Mestra ran back on her little weasel legs to the palace, and \nchanged back into her own daughter-shape again. \n'So then the Hungry Prince sold his daughter to another rich \n255 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nman, this time to a great merchant from a land far away. He took \nher aboard a big black ship and told the rowers to row fast and \ntake them out upon the deep deep sea. But on board ship, in the \nmiddle of the deep dark sea, Mestra changed into a dolphin and \nplunged into the waves. Then she swam back to land. When she \narrived at the seashore, she changed herself into a brown-shelled \nturtle, and walked, in a slow turtle-y way, through the seaweed \nand up the sandy beach to a wood beyond the shore. In the wood \nshe became a cunning little rat. And she scuttled back to the \npalace on her little rat feet. But this time, she wondered if she \nshould change back to her daughter-shape again. She twitched \nher pretty little rat whiskers and peered about with her little sharp \neyes to see first how things were at home. \n'By now, the palace was quite dilapidated and falling apart. \nThe only reason you'd be surprised to see a rat in it in broad \ndaylight would be because there wasn't a crumb of food left! \nYou must know, that deplorable Hungry Prince had eaten all \nthe food of \nhis neighbours and their tenants and the poor slaves. \nBy this time everybody, high and low, had run away. So - what \ndid he do, do you think, this Greedy Prince?' \n'Eat a person?' \n'Yes. But he didn't eat another person. He would have done \nso, but he couldn't eat anybody - simply because he couldn't \ncatch them. In his feasting days, when the heaps of geese and \ncakes kept coming into the palace, he had got out of \nthe habit of \nrunning, or walking, or doing anything for himself. So now - the \nHungry Prince turned to and ate himselfl There - what do you \nthink of that!! He ate himself till he was all gone, and nothing \nbut the crumbs were left.' \n'Oh,' said the little girl. 'What happened to his little girl?' \n'To Mestra? Oh, she cried two tears out of her little peery \neyes. She changed herself back into her daughter-shape and \ncried two more big tears, and ran out of the sad ruinous palace \n256 \n\n\nTHE HEALING ISLAND \nto the seashore. Then the god Poseidon came and asked her to \ncome with live with him in a sea cave and have his children. And \nhe promised she could enjoy living right here in Kos, except now \nshe would live in the wet instead of the dry, along the seashore \ninstead of inland. So she agreed, and enjoyed her life. Mestra \nhad sponges and coral and pearls in her sea cave, and when the \nwaves were high she danced on top of them, and admired the \nisland of Kos and the stars above it. And she had a son by \nPoseidon, whose name was Eurypylos. He became the first King \nof Kos in ancient days. Everyone was very happy, and they \nforgot the Hungry Prince of \nMyrmidonia.' \n'Wasn't that a good story, Philokleia?' her grandfather asked. \n'Yes,' she said seriously. 'It was - but I don't like how the first girl \ndied.' \n'Well, don't hide too long in one tree,' advised Iatrokles. \n'You are a politician, Iatrokles, as well as a moralist,' said Aristotle. \n'/ \nsee clearly the point of your philosophical tale.' \n'Ah,' said Iatrokles. 'You may think you do. That is the trouble \nwith telling you philosophers a fable. You want to make application. \nIt is the hardest thing in the world to make application! Nor is this \nstory my own invention. Truly. A tale of \nDemeter here in Kos, a story \noflong ago. Demeter gives us enough - enough and to spare - but the \ngods do not say \"be piggy\", do they?' \n'It's a very good story, with a good moral, Philokleia,' said the \ngrandfather. 'Though I have to say, greed is not this child's fault - she \ndoesn't eat enough, sometimes. Our girl doesn't need warning \nagainst overeating.' \n'Oh, no, I never thought she did,' replied Iatrokles. 'And I hope you \ncan take time from your business in Laurion to let her stay here - or \nsomewhere like this - for a time, and grow up a strong girl. Often, \nunder favourable conditions, such maladies as hers wane or disappear \nat maturity.' \n257 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF UFE \n'Yours is a fable about desire,' said Aristotle. 'And like all such \nfables, it has something to say to everyone. 1 had forgotten how \ncharming, ingenious and devious you Koans can be!' \n'I thank you,' said latrokles, bowing as if he had received a \ncompliment. 'I hope you all enjoy Kos, and meet none but good \nKoans, charming and devious as we are.' \n258 \n\n\nxv \nThe Doctors \nI have often thought of that quiet afternoon of storytelling, its small \npleasures and its laughter. We lingered as the day cooled and shadows \nspread. Parmenion, who had joined us in the middle of the tale, \ncondescended to sit on the grass and share some food. He was still \naloof and his eyes wandered off. He gazed into a distance that only he \ncould see, his eyes flickering back and forth as ifhe were searching for \nsome invisible rescue party who would snatch him from despair. I saw \nAristotle give Iatrokles a significant nod. \n'I cannot stay with this pleasant company all day,' said Iatrokles, \ncasting a shrewd glance at Parmenion. 'I ought to hie me to my own \nhouse and see what patients await me. It is easier for some of \nthem to \ncome out in the cool of the evening. Of course,' he added, 'the very \nill - or the very rich - I see in their own homes.' \n'Let me walk with you,' said Aristotle, 'and Stephanos too, if he \nwill. Do you wish to come with us for a walk, Parmenion?' Parmenion \nindicated he would rather stay where he was; on this occasion \nAristotle seemed rather relieved than displeased at his incivility. I was \nhappy enough to move after having sat in one spot so long. We \nstrolled at an amiable talking pace back to the harbour and to the \n261 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF UFE \nstreet on the other side where Iatrokles had his dwelling. As I \nsuspected, Aristotle wished to take the opportunity of consulting \nIatrokles about Pannenion. \n'It is a double problem,' he explained. 'This boy has been longing \nfor home - he is most anxious to know what has happened to his \nfather. And I have had no written word or other sort of \nmessage from \nhis father for a very long while. Because there is some real cause for \nconcern, I could not send the boy away to the eastern islands on his \nown. I wished to hear myself about the condition of \nhis father before \nI took him to Rhodos. There was no need to gossip about the boy's \ntrouble in Athens, where Makedonians are not always looked upon \nwith favour. \nPannenion is \nrelated to extremely important \nMakedonian leaders.' \n'You mean, I take it, the great Parmenion?' \n'Yes. He is grandson (if on the wrong side of the blanket) to the \ngreat Pannenion. Although neither this lad nor his father is, strictly \nspeaking, legitimate, both have been acknowledged by the rest of \nthe \nfamily; his uncle Philotas would be his guardian if anything has \nhappened to his father. But this boy's grandfather, Alexander's right-\nhand man, as well as the boy's uncle Philotas are both engaged in the \nwars far to the east. The boy's father, Arkhebios, is also a military \nman, though of much less importance. Arkhebios' mother's family \nare of Rhodos, where Arkhebios was also posted at the time the boy \ncame to our school. The anny sometimes finds men with local \nconnections useful in pacifying a region. The problem is, now I \ncannot seem to reach Arkhebios. The boy himself \nfears for his father's \nlife in these wars.' \n'You know,' said Iatrokles seriously, 'this is no slight matter. Many \npeople have disappeared in the wars, for one cause or another. But \nwhat about the boy in himself? I can tell you are not satisfied with his \nown health.' \n'That is so,' said Aristotle. 'Frankly, I fear that, whether from worry-\ning about his family or from some other cause, young Pannenion has \n262 \n\n\nTHE DOCTORS \nbecome - or is becoming - insane. At moments, however, he acts like \na normal person, yet at other times he is not only morose but \nabstracted and wandering. Melancholia seems to be claiming him -\neven to the extent of turning his wits so that he is unfit to go about.' \n'A difficult case,' said latrokles. 'Melancholia in the young is a bad \nsign - and yet it is the young who often plunge into melancholy, who \nare even willing to kill themselves over some little love problem or the \nlike. But you need to talk to my friend and partner Kleumedes, the \ndoctor whom I admire most. He is a physician with great under-\nstanding of \nhumours and the balances of \nthe body - and mind. Come \nand let us see if \nKleumedes can help you. He is a widower and we live \ntogether, and help each other out in seeing patients.' \nHe turned into a dwelling of modest size, but neat and very clean \nin appearance. It was well sited on a hill, with a view of the harbour \nand the sea and even of the Asian coast. The house seemed more \nspacious inside than it had promised without, with a pleasant court-\nyard and handsome main room. 'Ah - books!' said Aristotle with \napproval, going over to examine them. \n'Kleumedes, you're wanted!' latrokles shouted. His speaking in \nsuch a rudely raised voice, as a man would speak to a slave, surprised \nme. latrokles perceived my reaction. \n'Kleumedes is a man of many parts, but a trifle deaf. He hears \nbetter when he can look at your face, but from a distance you have to \nshout.' A bushy head popped round the door. \n'I was just speaking about the fish,' Kleumedes explained. This \nnew doctor had a great beard and a large head with quantities of \nhair, \nmuch of it grey, standing out in various directions; some seemed to \nbe growing straight upwards. His mouth was wide and generous, and \nhis large brown eyes looked us over curiously but without hostility. \n'There's enough fish to do for two dinners,' he remarked to \nlatrokles, 'but we have to grill it all now - I told the cook.' After this \npiece of domestic information he settled into the formality of \nintroductions. 'Aristotle the philosopher, famous in Athens, and \n263 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nStephanos of Athens - Kleumedes son of Kleumedes of Kos,' said \nIatrokles. Kleumedes made suitable response in his rather rumbling \nvoice. \n'My friend Kleumedes,' Iatrokles went on, still in a loud clear tone, \n'is a descendant of Hippokrates. And a descendant of Asklepios' \nsecond son, expert in curing invisible ills. Kleumedes is the best of \nall \ndoctors - in the world, I think.' \n'You must forgive the bias of \nmy dear friend,' said Kleumedes. 'He \nmeans well. Hyperbole is his only fault. I am a doctor who does the \nbest he can.' \n'We want to consult you about a case,' Aristotle admitted. \n'Sit down,' said Kleumedes, 'and I am all ears.' Indeed, he cupped \na hand behind one of \nthose members (very large in his case), as he sat \nhimself opposite Aristotle. 'Proceed.' \nAristotle explained Parmenion to Kleumedes much as he had \nalready done to Iatrokles. \n'Ah,' said Kleumedes, nodding thoughtfully. 'There are two parts \nto young Parmenion's problem. One external and the other internal. \nBut I fear you must find out the truth about what has really happened \nto his father before you can commence any lasting treatment. Either \nhis father is alive or he is dead. If alive, either he is well or he isn't. \nEither he still has his money and position, or he has lost one or both. \nAll of these things can be ascertained eventually, as they are facts in \nthe real world. But the deeper problem lies in what Parmenion thinks \nis in the world. And that is harder to fathom. There can be no cure \nfor his condition without knowledge of the truth.' \n'That sounds right,' said Iatrokles. 'But the condition might be \nameliorated meanwhile.' \n'Yes,' said Kleumedes. 'I should like to see this young man. Bring \nhim to me tomorrow.' \nHe rose rather grandly, as if once he had made up his mind there \nwas no further use in talking to us. I was amused and a trifle annoyed \nat this imperious and dismissive address. There was nothing for it but \n264 \n\n\nTHE DOCTORS \nfor us to say farewell, and to tell the doctors that we would bring \nParmenion on the morrow. We found that we were addressing only \nlatrokles. Kleumedes had already left the room and gone to the inner \napartment before we had got to the door. We made our farewells to \nlatrokles without commenting on his friend's abrupt behaviour, \nwhich he seemed to find unremarkable. \n'What a strange doctor,' I said to Aristotle, once we were well away \nfrom the house. 'He is evidently quite deaf \n- how sad!' \n'Yes, that must make difficulties for him, in his profession,' \nAristotle observed. 'He copes well with it, however. Sometimes partly \ndeaf persons train themselves to hear remarkably well, and to read \nfaces and gestures acutely. Whereas some people whose ears are very \ngood don't really listen well.' \n'It is good that each of these doctors has a friend to cheer him \nduring this sad time,' I remarked. As latrokles was Aristotle's friend, \nI did not comment on what an odd household his was. Two ageing \nmen, neither with a wife. And no children, apparently. It seemed \npathetic, grown men living together in an empty house, talking \nabout fish for dinner. Men in their twenties, and even their thirties, \noften fall in love with young men and boys, and there is a great deal \nof poetry about that passion. But greying older men could hardly \nhave such erotic feelings about other greybeards. I reminded myself, \nhowever, that the people of Kos had endured war and straitened \ncircumstances, so it was probably economic prudence that made \nthese two share a life in common. \nAristotle said crisply, 'We must try to get Parmenion to talk sense \nto the doctor. That will be our real difficulty.' \nThat difficulty became evident the next day, when Aristotle, \nexercising his talents of persuasion, prevailed on a reluctant \nParmenion to accompany us to latrokles' house. As we walked along \nthe harbour way the youth's eyes flickered here and there. He looked \ncuriously towards the shipping and then glanced away, taking flight \nsomewhere in the sky with his unknown ideas. The lad had often \n265 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nappeared fairly sane during the voyage, but now he seemed both more \ntense and more evasive. At last he spoke out. \n'You want me to see that doctor,' he said to Aristotle. 'You want to \ndo something to me! But you haven't found my father. And you don't \ntry to find him. 1 want -' He stopped. \n'Yes,' said Aristotle. 'You want?' \nParmenion was silent for the rest of \nthe way \nWhen we entered the little house again, both latrokles and \nKleumedes awaited us. \n'Come,' said Kleumedes. 'To our special room.' This room, built \non to the side of the house, appeared designed to accommodate \npatients. There were benches that could be turned into beds, with \ncushions and some coverlets neatly rolled up. There was a basket of \nherbs, and pottery jars emitting a pleasant smell, as of \nherbal mixtures \nand lotions. On a table a set of \nbright implements sat in a leather case. \nHanging on the wall was something like a saw, beside something like \na hatchet. \n'By the gods!' 1 exclaimed to Kleumedes. 'I believe you cut off \nmen's limbs with these things!' \nParmenion shuddered and stiffened; Aristotle gave me an angry \nglance. \n'Those toys belong to latrokles - he's the surgeon,' laughed \nKleumedes. 'He is one of \nthe tribe of \nMachaon. I, on the other hand, \nam a descendant of gentle Podaleirios. 1 am a doctor - 1 deal in \ncoaxing the body along, not chopping it up. Do sit down, all of \nyou. \nGoodness, it is as solemn as the tombs! You are all so quiet. 1 shall \nhave to hire a harp player for my patients' room - music, you know, \nis good for the soul and body. \n'Do you play an instrument, Parmenion?' he asked the boy, \naddressing him comfortably by name. Parmenion shook his head. \n'Nor do 1 - and now 1 am getting hard of hearing, so 1 dare say 1 \nshall never learn. My lad, they tell me you are not well. Why don't you \ntell me about it?' \n266 \n\n\nTHE DOCTORS \n'I am all right,' said Parmenion irritably. 'Nothing can be done,' he \nadded in a low monotone. \n'No - no!' said Aristotle. 'Something can always be done.' \n'It troubles you, I gather,' said Kleumedes, 'that you do not know \nwhat has happened to your father. That would trouble anyone.' \nParmenion shook his head impatiently. \n'You think,' said Kleumedes, 'that instead of \nour fussing about \nyou, \nwe had better go and look for your father.' \n'Yes,' mumbled Parmenion. \n'You have to speak up, child, I fear I am a trifle deaf. What you \nmean is that you would search for your father if \nyou could, but you \ndon't know how. Is that right?' \n'I would!' Parmenion shouted. 'But if he's dead, you fool, nobody \ncan find him! Can they? Oh, I should have stayed at home!' \n'Ah - yes,' said Kleumedes. 'You feel it was wrong to send you to \nschool in Athens when the war meant that your father was in danger. \nIn fact, you feel guilty about having left him in the East, as if \nyou had \ndone a wrong thing?' His patient nodded. 'But that was not a wrong \nthing, Parmenion - you did what your father wished you to do, and \nthat was right. You have no cause to blame yourself.' \nI wondered that Kleumedes could speak so soothingly after \nParmenion had rudely called him a fool. The boy should have been \nwhipped or at least cuffed for such bold disrespect - and to one who \nwas not only an older man but the friend of the boy's tutor and \ntemporary guardian. \nAt least Parmenion was not encouraged into further wrongful bold-\nness by the kind forbearance of \nKleumedes. The youth now hung his \nhead and looked wistfully down at the floor. The one good thing \nabout this was that his eyes were not wandering in all directions as if \nhe expected help from a platoon of cavalry that never arrived. \n'It seems to me,' said Kleumedes, almost with severity, 'that \nsomeone should have done something about finding this boy's father \nere now. Eh?' \n267 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'Something has been done,' said Aristotle. 'We - Theophrastos and \nI - wrote to his father and to his uncle likewise, but received no reply. \nAt this disruptive time, however, it is not unlikely that the posts \nsimply have not been getting through. Or, a letter may sit and gather \ndust in some remote spot while the man addressed is travelling many \nparasangs in another direction. The boy's father is Arkhebios. His \ngrandfather would be very easy to trace - Parmenion, the general of \nPhilip and now of \nAlexander. Very highly thought of. Both Philip and \nAlexander have loaded him with honours.' \n'Aye,' said Kleumedes. 'That is the sort of \nperson whom everybody \nknows and nobody knows how to get hold of. Not now when \nAlexander's army is marching far into the eastern hinterland. As this \nArkhebios is a Makedonian by paternal descent, not truly a man of \nRhodos, I suppose he was merely billeted there, or given some \ntemporary responsibility in that island. He could well have been given \na new posting.' \n'Tell you the best thing,' said Iatrokles. 'Make an enquiry of one \nof Alexander's ships - or rather, a ship bearing his officers and \nmessengers - when it comes into port. Such ships come regularly. I \nbelieve a ship carrying dispatches and people of importance is due to \narrive from Asia very soon.' \n'I had already written to members of \nthe Makedonian command in \nAsia,' explained Aristotle. 'In the spring I began to write enquiries \nabout Arkhebios, though of course couched in guarded language. \nOne can never be utterly sure. Spies are everywhere, and some \nsoldiers are, inquisitive by nature. If my earlier letters got through, \nhowever, some persons of importance will have known that I was \nprobably coming eastward - though, in the event, my departure from \nAthens was more hurried than I could have wished. And I have \nwritten this summer, from Athens, from Peiraieus and from Naxos. I \nalso sent word by a man on a ship we encountered before arriving in \nKos. Enquiries are well under way.' \n'Excellent,' said Kleumedes. 'Meanwhile - how to help this young \n268 \n\n\nTHE DOCTORS \nman?' He looked at Parmenion, pondering. 'He is thin, now, thinner \nthan is quite proper for his height. I take it you are not eating very \nwell, my lad?' \n'He has not manifested an appetite for some time,' said Aristotle. \n'He often seems flushed and excited, yet there is no fever - his skin is \ncool. Nothing changes except that he fines down, and loses his spirits \nand his attention.' \n'Not only so,' I added. 'He sometimes seems quite dumbstruck, \nthunderstruck with grief or fear or something - and yet on the voyage \nhe was often quite like other people.' \n'Very good,' said Kleumedes, nodding his bushy head. 'Things \nbecome a little clearer. Now, it seems to me the first thing to do is to \nget his humours into a right balance. Some become ill because they \nhave taken in too much of \nmeat and high food, but that is not his case \n- is it, Parmenion?' Parmenion shook his head, as if uninterested in \nthis discussion. \n'A good diet,' Kleumedes pondered. 'Food that is soothing, a little \non the infant side, might be of \nuse. We could study his reaction every \ntime a new food is introduced. Let him be encouraged to sleep, but \nafter taking some exercise. Not too great an exertion. Sleep - yes. It \noccurs to me - although we do not have a proper place of \nincubation \n- nothing like Epidauros - it is not unknown for a patient to stay \novernight in the shrine of Asklepios. A helpful dream might be \nvouchsafed, and he could tell us about it.' \n'No!' cried Parmenion! 'No - no dreams!' He rose up and flailed his \nright arm, brushing the air against Kleumedes as if \nto send back to its \nlair the horrible suggestion. \n'Very well,' said Kleumedes. 'No dreams. Though the god is more \nbeneficent than you seem to think. A good dream with Asklepios can \nsometimes put to flight the horrors of nightmares, as of waking \ntorment. But, Parmenion -' he turned to him with a look of \nconcern, \n'your heart is stufIed with painful thought. Will you let me try to \nrelieve you with a light herbal poultice?' He had already got up and \n269 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nwas mixing some herbs and oils in a jar. 'This,' he explained, 'is \nsimply to lighten feelings of oppression - it is very mild. Come now.' \nHe smeared the verdant concoction on Parmenion's arms and chest \nso that he began to look green. 'Let this dry, and simply breathe it in.' \nThe scent pervaded the room, a friendly scent. Thyme and sage and \nrue with other refreshing odours 1 did not know. Parmenion subsided \nand inhaled, with a bemused look. \n'Good, good, we make progress,' murmured bushy Kleumedes in \nhis rumbly voice. 'My lad, at least walk out to Asklepios' shrine and \nmake him a small offering. The little walk will be good in itself. The \nair is clear and refreshing at the sacred site. You are braced up like a \nwarrior about to rush into the fray - but at the moment there is no \nbattle! That is terribly wearing. You need inward rest, and not to go \nabout like a bow strung at its tightest.' \n'Good advice for anyone,' Aristotle said in a low tone. 1 noticed \nsuddenly how tired he himself looked. Certainly the work of looking \nafter Parmenion was telling on him. \n'Now,' said latrokles, 'my fellow physician will begin a disquisition \nupon the humours.' \n'I am sure Aristotle knows all about the subject,' said Kleumedes, \nlaughing. 'The work on the humours is one of the great \nachievements of doctors who follow Hippokrates. For we see the \ndesign of the whole - the body is meant to be in a full and perfect \nbalance. All the humours are necessary to that balance. But let one \nget out of \nproportion, and at once changes occur, both physical and \nmental. A little too much of \nthat essential humour the blood and the \nman is rash, loud, self-indulgent. A great deal too much, and he is \nimpatient of contradiction, lords it over his fellows and dies \nsuddenly or has a terrible fit. That is the easiest one to see, perhaps. \nBut too much of black bile, and melancholy follows - leading to \nthoughts of \ndamage and self-destruction. Often an unhappiness that \nhas no full object and no end in sight. Or, say there is a real object \nof fear or of loathing - the man spends his passions and spirit on \n270 \n\n\nTHE DOCTORS \nthat thought alone. So he loses mental and physical strength in \nbrooding.' \nParmenion, I noticed, appeared to be listening. \n'Let Parmenion have a very good diet, but not too much at anyone \ntime,' continued Kleumedes. 'And follow Pythagoras at least in this: \neat no beans! They blow the body up and give uncomfortable \nthoughts. In fact, that is probably good advice for all - especially if \nsharing sleeping quarters.' \n'Thank you,' said Aristotle, laughing. He arose, and the rest of us \ndid likewise. \n'Here is a sponge, so you can sponge off the medicine,' said \nKleumedes, handing the object to the boy. 'Parmenion here does not \nwish to look like a green man in the streets ofKos. But do you not feel \nthe benefit of \nthe treatment already?' \n'Yes,' admitted Parmenion. 'Can I stay here?' he added. \n'Good heavens, Parmenion,' expostulated Aristotle, 'we cannot ask \nthis of your doctors. This is their home and not a place of residence \nfor the diseased.' \n'Not so hasty, friend,' said Iatrokles. 'This comes upon you as a \nsurprise, true enough, but if \nyou stop to think of \nit - might it not be a \ngood idea? Your friend Stephanos here has other fish to catch - he \nmust look for the man from Hymettos that he seeks. You yourself \nwill \nhave to search for Parmenion's father. It is too hard on Parmenion \nhimself for you to drag him about with you. It would not be \nimpossible for him to stay here, progressing towards a cure.' \n'I should have to think long and hard about that,' said Aristotle. 'It \nis a grave responsibility to give one's charge over to another. He is a \nwell-born lad, and I am responsible for his safety.' \n'You - and he - are safe enough,' said Kleumedes frostily. 'My \nHippokratic oath binds me from making any sexual overtures to \npatients - and I can assure you my affections do not tend towards \nboys.' He looked smilingly at Iatrokles for confirmation before con-\ntinuing his emphatic speech. 'Neither am I in danger of \ntrying to rook \n271 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nmoney from patients, or of asking any other favour whatsoever. Nor \nwill I let him wander about and get into danger. Remember \nHippokrates' motto: \"First do no harm!\" I govern myself by that \nalways.' \n'And I too,' said Iatrokles. 'At least, as far as a surgeon may, who \nmust cut sometimes in order to heal.' \n'Forgive me,' said Aristotle, embarrassed, 'I meant that I did not \nmean to lodge the boy with others. That was not my design in coming \nhere to you and asking for your professional help. As for your medical \nassistance, I am most grateful - and of course I shall pay you at the \nordinary rate.' He put a couple of \ncoins on the table. 'Not as an insult, \nbut to keep our friendship from moulting,' he added, speaking over \nIatrokles' expostulations. 'I hate being the debtor. It's a thing that \nmakes me ill- so you must humour me!' \n'I can readily humour you,' retorted Iatrokles, 'but only to this \nextent. Do you leave us this money as earnest for Parmenion's keep, \nand let him reside here. After all, Aristotle, you will be moving about \nand probably will not have Stephanos with you. You cannot leave \nParmenion unsupervised at the lodging you now have. Meanwhile, he \ndoes need some medical care, to help him recover his balance. Which \nmy friend Kleumedes knows how to bring about. There - have I \nproduced sufficient arguments to convince a rhetorician?\" \nAristotle, his brow creased with thought and anxiety, turned slowly \nto Parmenion. Parmenion, standing, looked at him fully, giving him \na rare span of \nreal attention. \n'I did not intend this - I never thought of it,' Aristotle said. 'It is \nalways hard for me to accept an idea that was not first my own. There \nare some things to recommend such a change of plan. But the most \nimportant matter, Parmenion, is your own choice. Come - be per-\nfectly sincere and frank in your response. Would you like to come \nback to the lodging with me, or would you yourself really like to stay \nhere?' The boy hesitated. 'Speak just as you feel,' he added \nencouragingly. \n272 \n\n\nTHE DOCTORS \n'I feel - oh, of \ncourse 1 am grateful to you, and you are my teacher \nwhom 1 must obey until my father is found. But for a while 1 would \nlike - oh, yes, 1 want to stay here, in the doctors' house.' \n'Let it be so,' said Aristotle. 'Of course, latrokles and Kleumedes, \nit must be on the understanding that you allow me to pay both for his \nboard and his treatment. The few possessions he brought with him 1 \nwill have brought over by Phokon straight away.' \nAnd so we left - without Parmenion. Still dyed by his herbal \npoultice, the lad said his farewells and watched us depart, going no \nfurther than the doctors' threshold, as if the little house offered him \nsome kind of sanctuary. Strange, for 1 could not see that the two \ndoctors had offered anything we could not. \n273 \n\n\nXVI \n==~g_e~== \n0-6 \nFacing Asia \nStrangely relieved and yet diminished by the absence of Parmenion, \nwe walked back from the doctors' house. We glanced curiously at the \nharbour in the dazzle of noon sun to see if any great ships had come \nin. But nothing had. Only the usual small ships were stirring. One \nlight vessel containing a few passengers was easing its way slowly to \nthe inner harbour among the larger ships already there; it moved like \nsome small insect along water too glittering to look at in the rays of \nthe sun. On our return to our lodging place, Aristotle gave Phokon \norders to find and transport Parmenion's few belongings to the \ndoctors' house. \nAs Phokon was setting off, another slave came from the contrary \ndirection, walking hastily but anxiously glancing at the houses as if \nnot too sure of \nhis destination. \n'Do you know where the great Aristotle lives?' he asked Phokon. \n'This is it,' said Phokon with a grin. 'And that's my master, right \nthere.' \nAnother slave, a stocky fellow who happened to be passing on the \nother side of the road, gave us a curious glance, but then walked \nquickly by. The slave we had first seen, his confidence restored, \n274 \n\n\nFACING ASIA \nrushed up to us and said, 'Oh, sir - 1 speak to Aristotle, the great \nphilosopher from Athens?' \nHe had picked the right man. 'Yes, boy. At least, 1 am Aristotle,' \nthe philosopher replied modestly. \n'I thought you must be the philosopher, because of \nthe beard,' the \nyoung slave explained. 'The other one's too young. 1 am very glad to \nfind you, for my master Oromedon of Kos, having received your \nmessage, has sent to you in return. Hoping to see you this evening. \nHe wrote you this letter yesterday - and here it is.' \nHe proffered some neatly tied tablets. \n'Excellent!' cried Aristotle. 'Come into the garden, Stephanos, \nwhile 1 read these and consult with you. We will ask our landlord to \ngive my friend's servant something to drink while he awaits an \nanswer.' 1 followed Aristotle into the garden where we sat in the shade \nand he looked over his letter. \n'There,' he said. 'We may be as wise as each other,' and he offered \nme the epistle, written in a sprawling hand, extravagantly covering \ntwo and a half sides of \nthe four waxed tablets. \nOromedon son of \nDaliokles to his most honoured Friend, Aristotle son \nof \nNikomakhos, Greetings \nGreatly beyond measure do I regret, dearest and wisest of \nfriends, \nthat I have not been in Kos to receive you at \nyour arrival. I have but \nnow returned from a short journey. How greatly to be regretted that I \nshould be absent at a time when you are honouring Kos with your \nbeloved presence. You must come and take what hospitality my \nhumble roof \ncan offer. What fond memories of \nPlato's lectures and the \ngood days of yore the sight of you will inspire. But first I have \nimportant matters to deliver. Returning to Kos, our small ship passed \na large three-banked vessel, bearing news and messengers from \nAlexander. And one who knew me hailed me from the deck, and let \nme know that this great ship bears messengers and messages of \ngreat \nimportance, including news sent to Aristotle if he is in Kos at the \n275 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \npresent time. This great ship, having stopped in Patmos, comes south \nand should arrive in the harbour of \nKos tomorrow evening, or the day \nafter. \nI pray you to come and dine with me tomorrow, though I cannot \ninvite you to arrive any earlier than early evening. An unfortunate \nrequest, doubly so when it is but humble fare for which you are asked \nto wait. I apologise for all delay, when I shall be so rejoiced to see you. \nYou and \nyour \nfriend, I trust, will be residing with me from tomorrow \nnight. \nNo letters have yet come for you. If \nyou say Yes to my invitation, \nas I entreat, I shall leave a message at the harbour for any and all \ndispatches to you or your friend to be conveyed to my house. I \nearnestly hope I can be of \nassistance to you in any enterprise you have \non hand. I beg your forgiveness for the fact that you are presently \nlodging anywhere other than my own home. My brother-in-law has \nbeen staying with me, and he is an invalid, which has made matters \nmore complicated. But I hope as soon as the morrow's evening to see \nyou happily in residence under my roof, if, my dear friend, there is \nany virtue in the entreaties of \nyour \nfriend Oromedon son of \nDaliokles \n'This is important!' I was impressed. 'Who knows what \nAlexander's message may be?' \n'Well, it is less likely to come from Alexander himself than from \nsome officer, or a friend - perhaps even my wonderful nephew \nKallisthenes.' Aristotle's mood had lightened. 'It will be good to see \nOromedon again. We were students in Plato's Akademeia together-\nso long ago. I must send a reply, if you do not object, Stephanos, \nsaying that both of \nus will be happy to be received by him this evening.' \nI saw no objection, and he quickly dashed off a reply. Things \nseemed to be going well (save that I did not yet have a letter from \nhome). But the style of the Koan's letter and of the messenger had \nsomewhat disappointed me. \n276 \n\n\nFACING ASIA \n'I thought Oromedon was one of the important men of \nKos?' \n'Oh yes. Son of \nDaliokles who was a very important citizen indeed. \n1 should certainly like you both to become acquainted.' \nWell, the manners ofKos might not be quite as ours. The slave was \nslightly impudent, but not suave, and the letter seemed awkward if \nflorid. 1 was rather puzzled at the man's odd reference to his brother-\nin-law, and his putting Aristotle off for the sake of this other man. 1 \nventured to say as much. \n'Dear old Oromedon would not be too formal with me,' Aristotle \nresponded eagerly. 'His letter may flourish a bit clumsily, as you say. \nBut he would know he need not stand on ceremony with me, if his \nbrother-in-law is a cripple or something, and requires special \nattention. 1 dare say Oromedon is the same delightful fellow he always \nwas. He was always a generous party-giver in Athens - 1 dare say he'll \noffer us a first-class dinner. His slave is a bit unpolished, 1 grant you. \nBut the wars in Kos would have made it harder to keep good servants, \nas slaves have so often been pressed into service by one side or the \nother.' \n1 tried to think about how to make my over-travelled clothes \nrespectable enough to go to a first-class dinner. Even the new \ngarments purchased for me in Rhenaia had been through a storm at \nsea. 1 shared this humble problem with Aristotle. \n'Let us ask the house slaves here to clean a khiton for each of us,' \nhe suggested. 'Phokon would do it, but he is out. It would probably \nbe more polite not to arrive at Oromedon's house with all our \nbaggage, despite his kind invitation - we can move completely later \non. While we dine, the slaves can clean some more clothes for us. \nNow, let us go out ourselves and make the most ofthis beautiful day, \nStephanos. As we are waiting for dispatches, I cannot do anything \nfurther about Parmenion's father at the moment. Why don't we take \na leisurely walk, by the sea and not uphill? If \nwe are to ask the slaves \nto do a washing, we can ask for bread and cheese and thus get out of \ntheir way for a while.' \n277 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nAnd so we set off for a good walk along the seaside. We moved \nalong the coast, and as we did so, even for a little distance, the coast \nof Asia became slightly plainer to our vision. 1 could pick out a few \nscattered farmsteads on the infertile cape. At last we came to a good \nstretch of shore; like most Koan shores it had a profusion of round \ngrey pebbles, but it also had a little soft fine sand, and some low \nsandstone rocks to sit on. We sat down lazily, looked at the rock \npools, and then lapsed into silence. For a long time we had not had \nthis kind of peace, the kind where nobody can overhear you. Some \ngulls screamed overhead. The little waves came up tranquilly and \nsplashed along the shore. Beyond, the sea stretched green and blue to \nthe far point where the blue line of coast seemed to beckon us to \ncome. \n'Asia,' said Aristotle. 'I hope you see it some time, Stephanos, it is \nvery beautiful.' He sighed, and was quiet. 1 \nwas restless. After teasing \na couple of crabs, 1 felt hot, and the water looked refreshingly cool \nin its blue transparency. The stones beneath the water were visible \nand striped with slender threads oflight as the light was woven by the \nsea. \n'Come on!' 1 said. Freeing myself of \nclothes I rushed into the water, \nwith the usual wonderful almost frightening cold shock that you get \nwhen you enter the sea on a hot day. When 1 was chest deep in the \nwater, before 1 could stretch out my arms to embrace the waves and \nkick off for a swim, there was a sudden loud hiss. 1 started as an \nenormous octopus swam towards me, all its tentacles waving. It \nlooked angry and covered the distance amazingly quickly. Its strange \nmouth was making a great noise, blowing water and air in a steamy \n'Hsss - sssht!' Stumbling on stones, 1 moved awkwardly backwards \nthrough the water. The thing was chasing me - or so it seemed - its \nhorrible pink tentacles all alive, stretching out, now parallel to me, \nnow closing in on me, the tips waving and curling; 1 could see the \npowerful suckers. One fleshy obstinate strand caught on my arm and \nclung -\n278 \n\n\nFACING ASIA \nAristotle rushed into the water and we both yelled at the creature. \nSlowly it let go and swam off, indignant. Its tentacles curved and \nundulated in the water and reappeared among the foam of \nthe further \nwaves. \nAristotle was laughing, the first genuine laugh I had heard from \nhim in a long time. 'That creature nearly had you! What an amusing \nreversal! Octopus has Stephanos for dinner.' \nI went spluttering back to the beach, coughing out some water I \ndidn't need. \n'Powerful animals, octopodes, in their way. Amazing. They belong \nto the category of bloodless animals: the Softs. You can see how its \nhead is between its legs, and these legs are an extensive part, highly \nactive, used both as feet and hands.' \n'It seemed to whistle and hiss at me through its mean mouth,' I \nsaid. \n'No - no. It was whistling to you - as you put it - through its tube. \nThey have a tube to send back from the belly-sack any seawater which \nhas got in. That is not the mouth.' \n'Those horrible tentacles - I have heard that if it gets its suckers \nfastened along your throat an octopus can choke a man.' \n'I have heard so too, but I have not known a case. Did you realise \nthe octopus does not use all tentacles alike? As I have often said, \nNature makes special parts for various activities. An animal is like a \ngood drama, each lively part with its own function, and the parts well \narticulated. The octopus uses two tentacles to take in food, which it \nputs in its real mouth - it has an oesophagus and a very neat gut. Such \ninteresting animals!' Aristotle perched on a warm sandstone shelf, \nidle in the sun, and continued giving me the benefit of all that was in \nhis capacious mind about the octopus in general. \n'Do you know, a female octopus' gut can become extremely large, \noverflowing with eggs like the fruit of white poplar, which she dis-\ncharges into some shady chamber under the sea - like little Mestra's \nsea cave at the end of latrokles' story. Hidden treasure. And one of \n279 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF llFE \nthe male's tentacles is divided at the tip and is specially used to uncoil \nand touch smoothly. That is the one he uses in the sexual act. So, you \nsee, the female octopus is not going to be tom apart or unpleasantly \nclamped by the suckers at the great embrace. The pair lie down \ntogether, the second fitting itself carefully on to the tentacles of the \nfirst, so that their suckers match. Wonderful creatures! Come, \nStephanos, cast care aside - let us swim!' \nWe swam, diving and tossing lightly through the cool waves and \nriding on the foam. When we were tired and had enough of this, we \nreturned to the warm rocks and let ourselves dry in the sun. We \nlooked together across the water to the land quite close to us. \n'The coast of Asia,' said Aristotle slowly. 'And not far hence the \ntowers of our most unfortunate Halikarnassos.' \n'Too bad!' 1 did not wish him to go on in this melancholy \nreminiscence, for we both knew people who had endured the fatal \nsiege of the destroyed city. One of them was only a girl. 1 stretched \nout in the sun. Exercise had given me many hungers. \n'I really need to find a brothel,' 1 grumbled. 'And not one like the \n\"Naumakhia\", either.' \n'Oh, 1 don't know, Stephanos,' he retorted. 'A nice plump sucking-\npig and a nice plump sailor.' \n1 burst out laughing - chiefly with surprise, for such talk was \nmost unlike him. He laughed also - too loudly. When 1 looked at \nhim 1 found that his laughter had changed to sobs. Aristotle was \nactually crying! 1 gazed at him helplessly. Painful tears slowly and \nagainst his will left his eyes and coursed down the furrows of his \nface. As he was naked he could not fling up a cloak or sleeve to cover \nhis emotion. \n'Forgive me,' he said, 'but 1 must weep. Whether it is the salt \nwaves, like tears themselves, or the memory of \nAsia, 1 cannot now but \nweep. 1 remember and lament my lost wife. Oh, Pythias, Pythias, why \ndid you leave me? We were once together, and now 1 am so lonely!' \nHe wept. 1 looked away the while, embarrassed, and unwilling to \n280 \n\n\nFACING ASIA \ngrieve him with a memory of \ncurious eyes fastened on his tears. I was \nvery startled. \n'Dear friend,' I said, once his shoulders had stopped shaking, 'I \nthought you were a stronger - I mean, I thought that philosophy had \ngiven you the means to quench grief.' \n'No - not exactly, Stephanos. Philosophy may tell a man why it \nmay do him little good to mourn, and why others will despise him for \ndoing so. But grief cannot be held for ever within the breast. It seeks \nrelief.' \nAristotle sat up on his rock; a few tears still coursed down his \ncheeks and neck and fell on his chest, on the chest hair, matted but \ngrey. I saw him suddenly as an old man. Yet he was strong too, his \nchest well muscled, and he held his head erect on his strong neck, \nturning his countenance towards Asia. \n'You don't know - you cannot know - but I feel moved to tell you,' \nhe said slowly, 'what Asia means to me. I left Athens after Plato died. \nHis death shook me very much - all the more as I had been an orphan \nearly, when I first began to study with him. My father was a deeply \neducated man, a physician of Stageira. Our city is in Khalkidike, of \nold accounted part of Thrake. I am so tired of being considered \nsimply a Makedonianl My father's family came from the island of \nAndros, the northernmost of the Kyklades, an island sacred to \nDionysos. My mother's family came from Khalkis in Euboia, \nwonder-working Khalkis of the workers in bronze and copper \n. We \nwere making bronze armour and other intricate things when most \nAthenians could barely cut and store a little grain! I still have some \nfamily land in Euboia, inherited from my mother's side. With Plato \ngone there was nothing to keep me in Athens. I started roving, \ndrawing on my inheritance. It occurs to me that, having never been \nshort of \nmoney, I've been able to do what I wanted, most of \nthe time.' \n'Some would say there are dangers in that.' \n'Perhaps there are. Well, still young and still in the constant quest \nof philosophy, after Plato died I went to the court of Hermias of \n281 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF UFE \nAtarneus, where other friends and former scholars of \nPlato had gone. \nI won't say that I had not some notion of \npleasing King Philip, who \nwas anxious to keep up good relations with a Greek city on a coast so \nlargely controlled by Persia. But I remained because of Hermias \nhimself.' \n'What made him so fascinating?' I was really curious. Aristotle \nseemed to hold this odd and unsuccessful character in such high \nregard. \n'W \nell- how to describe him to you? A slave who was no slave in his \nmind. He started out as a slave indeed, a mere banker's assistant, and \nrose by his own abilities to an important position as the ruler of \nAtarneos and Assos. His native ability was very great. But he was \nuneducated. Therefore Plato had sent to his court two of \nhis scholars, \nErastos and Koriskos, members of \nsuch important families in Skepsis \nthat Hermias could not ignore them. They became friends, and \ncreated a little Akademeia in Assos. Hermias, unlike the bullies who \nso frequently rise to power, was eager to learn.' \n'Admirable,' I commented, still puzzled at the notion of \na banker's \nslave becoming a ruler. \n'Hermias had an aspiring soul, and an intellect that could grasp \nessentials. His court became a centre of learning. And not only that. \nOnly think, Stephanos, the man changed his mind! This is astonishing \nin any human beings, especially in the powerful. Hermias modified his \nideas of the ruler or dictator, and gave his little nation a constitution \nalong the lines that we suggested. It was very exciting to see thought \nbecoming reality. That was one of \nthe best times in my life. It \nwas also \nin Assos, amid the wonders of the Asian landscape and coast, that I \ndecided to study all life - the living creatures. A subject not much \ntouched upon in our books. We live in this great and beautiful world \nfull of \nliving creatures, and yet we understand so little about it.' \n'So,' I said, encouragingly, 'that was a good thing. It explains why \nyou are still studying the animals and so on.' \n'Yes, Stephanos. It may be the interest comes to me from both my \n282 \n\n\nFACING ASIA \nfather's and my mother's family. From my father the physician's side, \nthe interest in living forms of bodies. From the metal-workers and \ndesigners comes this deep concern with how things are made and how \nthey function. Study of \nthe living material beings has been a lifelong \nwork. Nowadays I have those adult scholars to assist me, and we have \nbegun to make great strides. But it all began with my wandering \nabout the rocks and sands of \nthe coast of \nAsia, and going out in small \nboats to little islands.' \n'All on your own?' \n'Eventually I had one companion and fellow-worker - a little girl. \nShe used to come to me with a basket or a pottery jar and we would \ngo out to look for specimens. Catch things in rock pools, or watch \nanemones. At first, of \ncourse, I was just \"amusing the child\" in letting \nher pretend to help, but rapidly I realised she was truly observant, and \nhad great patience. As you have guessed, this little girl was the \ndaughter - adopted and motherless daughter - of \nHermias.' \n'What a strange way to take up with a woman!' \n'Well, it was our way. But then came the bad time, when Hermias' \nposition was not so sure. I took the child to safety at his request, and \nwe settled for a while in Lesbos. It was in Lesbos also that I truly came \nto know Theophrastos and we began the connection that has proved \nso happy for me.' \n'So - there you were in Lesbos, looking at tadpoles, the three of \nyou-' \n'Yes. Lesbos is very beautiful, and its coast is warm and full of \nwildlife. Our work kept us all happy and distracted the child from \nsorrow over her separation from her father. We would watch crabs \ntogether by the day, and study the behaviour of fishes and little \nmolluscs - and octopodes. I thought of all this when you saw the \noctopus today. I remember talking about octopodes with Pythias. We \nwatched a pair mating on the sea floor in a shallow area - so beautiful, \nlike dancers. Pythias and I used to wander along the shore and stop \nfor a long while to watch the little crabs and sea-urchins.' \n283 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'How curious!' I was struck by a certain impropriety in all this. 'She \nhad no other guardian?' \n'Just her old nurse. But she was a sacred trust to me. Now I wish I \ncould have the old days back again, with young Pythias on a rock \nbeside me. Her long legs stretched out, and her hair flopping into the \nwater as she watches the rock pool's inhabitants. Or the two of us \nwaiting in dusk, quietly, for the rising of \nthe moon, and counting the \nvarious night birds.' \n'Did she feel no anxiety about her reputation?' \n'Well, we lived quite a solitary existence for a while, and she was \nused to me. And then we all went to King Philip in Makedonia, at his \ncommand. He thought I could be useful in telling him about Asia, \nand also acting as tutor to Alexander. I should add that Alexander \nhad a number of \ntutors - I was but one. King Philip perhaps wanted \nme under his eye. It struck me later that the reports I had sent back \nfrom Atarneos and Assos may have been too good. Maybe I praised \nHermias over-much. Oh, Stephanos, I fear King Philip threw \nHermias to the wolves and deliberately let the Persians have him! \nHermias too knew that unless his luck took some very decided new \nturns, his life was threatened. But he trusted a man - a Persian, \nthough oddly enough he was named Mentor. And Mentor it was who \nbetrayed him.' \n'And as Hermias was a ruler,' I thought aloud, 'he could not just \nleave, or take evasive action by disappearing, as a common man may \ndo if \nhe has enemies.' \n'Indeed not. And you must not think of Hermias as weak, or \nlacking in practical military ability. He withstood a Persian siege \nduring the time I was with him. Under the last fatal threat, Hermias \ndid not run away, neither did he try to injure innocent Persians to \nretaliate against those who injured him. In the end, the Persians \ncaptured Assos and took Hermias. That was less than a year after I \nhad arrived in King Philip's court.' \n'And Hermias met his end.' \n284 \n\n\nFACING ASIA \n'And Hermias met his end. I could not help him. All the rest of \nmy \nlife I have treasured up - a terrible treasure - every bit of \ninformation \nI could gather about the dreadful end of \nmy friend. Hermias did not \ngive way under torture, nor lead his torturers to anyone else. Among \nhis last words were a request to his brutal captors to tell his friends \nthat he had done nothing against the soul or unworthy of \nphilosophy. \n' \nI could now begin to see why Aristotle was always such an \nenthusiast for the former ruler of Assos, though many people others \nin Athens said everything denigrating they could about Hermias -\nwho still seemed to me somewhat odd. \n'And so,' I said sympathetically, 'you were left with his daughter on \nyour hands. Who probably had nothing! No inheritance, no dowry. \nThe Persians would have taken everything Hermias had.' \n'Yes. As she was the daughter of Hermias, who had died tortured \nby the Persians and out of favour with the Makedonians, nobody \nwould be anxious to befriend her. Hermias, however, had earlier \nasked me to take care of her always, in case anything happened to \nhim. She was a sacred trust.' \n'Another burden for you,' I said sympathetically. 'It seems a pity \nthe Makedonian King could not help her.' \n'Philip practically ignored her existence. Better so. But you must \nunderstand, I loved her. Of course I had loved her when she was a \nlittle child, but as one feels affection for a little child. One day when \nshe was fourteen I suddenly found myself \nfeeling ... \nsomething quite \ndifferent. But I was determined to take no advantage of \nher youth and \nhelpless state. Indeed, I do not approve of early marriage and child-\nbearing for girls. It weakens their bodies; the babies are often \nunhealthy and the young women die. So I said nothing to Pythias. \nAnd I made no gesture to her that couldn't have been made by any \nbrother before an audience of \nwatchers.' \n'But then - you married her?' \n'I ardently wished to, but held back, until Pythias herself told me \n285 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF UFE \nshe wanted this and felt she was ready. She was always a reserved \nperson, but deeply honest. And very steady.' \n'An improper courtship! And one in which the lady asks the \nquestion!' I nearly laughed, but caught myself. 'I mean - you couldn't \nask her father, neither of you had parents, you were drifting about \ntogether in each other's company every day - most unsuitable -' \n'Well, when you put it that way I agree it was unorthodox, \nStephanos,' said Aristotle stiffly. 'And it is not what I would advise \nothers to do. No, not at all. Ours was a special case. We married -\nquite properly and formally - in Pella. We were of \nan appropriate age. \nEighteen for the woman. Really, nobody should bear children before \nthat. I was in my later thirties. I have maintained that thirty-seven is \na good age for a man to beget - and that was about what I was when \nwe started seriously on child-creation. We have always lived with the \ngreatest propriety as man and wife - no more wanderings by the \nshore. Pythias has been exemplary. At the time, I registered the \nmarriage everywhere one possibly could. My sister accepted her as \nmy wife. Then I took Pythias in my arms - but oh, the joy is now \nrepaid by grieving! I fear I killed her, Stephanos. I ought not to have \nallowed the pregnancy to proceed. I was too old for this last child -\ntoo old for child-getting.' His tears, which had dried up during his \nnarrative, started to flow again. \n'I have even published my opinion that a man should not beget \nchildren after he is fifty years old. But Pythias was so much younger, \nI felt it worth the risk. We hadn't had a son - and our little girl is very \nhealthy. If only I had my Pythias back, we could go back to living in \nthat brotherly manner, as we did when we watched the shellfish off \nthe rocks of \nLesbos.' \nThis seemed too odd a vision of happiness to suit with my own \nnotions. But I knew I ought to try to comfort him. \n'You have the memories,' I said lamely. 'And really, Aristotle, it has \nbeen a while since your wife died. I thought you had got over it. Or \nalmost. like all good philosophers, you seem in your writings to hold \n286 \n\n\nFACING ASIA \nwomen of such little account, on the whole. Philosophers are \nsupposed to excel anyway at doing away with grief, even for the death \nof a man. You have seemed so like your normal self on most of the \njourney.' \n'Oh, Stephanos,' said Aristotle, 'it is hard to hold back all the time \n- more than flesh and blood can bear. But you are too taken with \nexternals.' He dried his eyes, and looked away from me for a moment, \nout to sea. 'You must make a distinction between what men say and \nwhat they think. And between how they appear and what they are \nfeeling. Many a man with a broken heart will smile; many a fellow \nwho is full of \nrage will speak in a polite and even kindly manner.' \nHe got up, in the slow manner of the ageing. When he stood up, \nhowever, outlined against the sea with its deep transparency and \nafternoon brightness, he looked sadly heroic, like a bronze figure. He \nlooked out again at Asia, which I now knew was a land of \ndreams and \nmemories for him. Then we both scrambled into our clothes again. \n'Have you observed,' Aristotle remarked conversationally, 'how \nsoon one dries off after bathing in salt water, and how much longer it \ntakes after being immersed in water that is sweet? The cause must be \nall the material in the sea - there is less actual water.' I was not \npleased to find that a gull had made a target of \nmy khiton. At the sight \nof the bird-shit painting my garment Aristotle laughed heartily, \nthough I did not. \nWe made our way back to our lodging and put on our clean khitons \nin preparation for dinner. Oromedon's house was large, almost \nmagnificent. He had a marble statue near the entrance, and a kind of \nfloor I had never seen before, of pebbles arranged in a pattern, \nhandsome but not comfortable to walk on. His house was certainly a \ncontrast to the doctors' modest dwelling. Indeed, it seemed so large I \nwas surprised that the presence of a brother-in-law could at all have \nincommoded him. Oromedon seemed a man accustomed to making \narrangements. \n287 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF liFE \n'I regret,' he said courteously, 'that so far no letters have arrived for \neither of \nyou. But most probably that will soon be rectified.' \n'I hope so,' 1 said. 'I really don't think,' 1 added, turning to \nAristotle, 'that 1 can leave Kos until 1 have heard from home.' \n'It pleases me to inform you both,' said Oromedon, 'that 1 have \nsent a messenger to bring your messages from the great ship; they \nshould arrive as soon as you have eaten. It wouldn't do, my dear \nAristotle, for you to have news before a meal. Such a diversion is bad \nfor the digestion. 1 must uphold the reputation of Kos for good \nmedical practice.' \nAristotle, weary as he was after today's grief, was alert at the idea of \nnews, and chafing secretly at having it withheld from him. 1 also \nardently wished for a letter. Dinner, served only to the three of us, \nseemed unnecessarily elaborate and long-lasting, though we were \ncertainly hungry enough at the outset, after our swim. Oromedon was \na middle-sized man with an impressive middle-aged manner, though \nnot a great deal to boast of in the way of looks. He had aged less \ngracefully than Aristotle. He was not quite bald, but his hair at the top \nconsisted of a few strips more distressing than baldness. While he \ntalked, he had a habit of \nsmoothing these grey wisps along the top of \nhis head, as if to make sure he still had something in those regions. 1 \ndecided uncharitably that Oromedon's idea of being philosophical \nwas to talk slowly in long sentences. But then, 1 was spoiled by \nAristotle's quick way of \ngoing on. \nAt length the meal was done, compliments exchanged. Oromedon \nleft the room and came back almost immediately. \n'I had hoped merely to offer you letters, and to see to it myself,' he \nsaid. 'But there is an actual messenger for you, 0 Aristotle. He claims \nto be on an embassy from the very highest quarters. 1 would not, \nhowever, allow this person to incommode your dining hour. We have \nfed him in the kitchen, do not fear. But it is probable that you had \nbest speak to him.' \n288 \n\n\nFACING ASIA \n'A messenger? News!' Aristotle jumped up quickly.' Yes, let us \nhave the man in.' \nThe messenger who came into the room was a surprise. He was a \nwell-developed man smartly dressed. Too good for a slave. \n'Sir,' he said to Aristotle, 'I am sent to entreat you to come aboard \nthe warship in the harbour, where there is one who would speak with \nyou with a message from Alexander's officer. We beg that you will \ncome now, even though the day waxes late.' \n'Butwho-' \n'Sir, 1 am a freedman, serving Peleus who is in the great army. \n1 understand that he has a message for you - messages, both in \nspeech and in letters. The matter is of some urgency, and Peleus \nbegs that you will come today. We have a tender to carry you aboard \nthe ship.' \n'My friend Stephanos will come with me, in that case,' said \nAristotle genially. 'He is accustomed to assisting my faltering steps.' \n1 wondered, doubtless open eyed (I hope not open-mouthed) at \nthis outrageous statement. \n'And good Oromedon,' Aristotle turned to his friend, 'would you \nlike to board the vessel?' \n'I shall accompany you, of course,' said Oromedon. 'You are my \nguest and 1 am responsible for your safety and pleasure. Only if \nyou \nwish my presence during your conversation.' \n'Three of you then. Very well,' said the freedman, bowing. 'I can \nlead the way, sir, if \nyou do not mind. Time presses.' \nWe left the house with much less ceremony than I would have \nthought possible in Oromedon's deliberate, and followed the sturdy \nand active fellow back to the harbour mouth. \n'I am sorry, Stephanos,' said Aristotle, 'to drag you off to another \nship. But it suddenly struck me - 1 do not know this fellow or his \nofficer, and it \nis sometimes foolish to go alone into you know not what \ncompany. It is always good to have a young and active man in the \nparty.' \n289 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF UFE \nWe two and Oromedon were soon engaged in the business of \ngetting into the small boat, rowed by only two men, and setting off \nthrough the crowded harbour towards the area beyond, where the \ngreat ship lay at anchor. 1 looked back at the harbour of \nKos and the \nhouses that we knew. The waters were richly golden in the light of \nthe \nsun as it slid down the sky. Suddenly we had arrived, and 1 was \nmoving up a fragile-seeming ladder of \nrope, trying not to look down. \nThis vessel was so large - nothing like the friendly boats in which \nwe had made our journey. This was a long sleek craft, wide enough \nin the waist to hold the ranks of \noarsmen. These men were busy oiling \nthemselves or serving cold food, while the ship lay at anchor. \nEvidently they had not been allowed to go ashore. We looked upon \nrows and rows of \nbenches. \n'Please come aft, gentlemen,' said our guide. 'There is one there \nwho waits for you. He will explain all.' \nWe were shown into a small cabin with a kind of \nshelf for a bed and \nother purposes. Standing in the centre of \nthe room was a well-muscled \nman of \na commanding presence. His hair was cut military style, and he \nhad a manly and military bearing. \n'Sir,' exclaimed Aristotle, 'I see you are a member of the Greek \narmy. From the look of \nyou, you are one of \nthose in the Makedonian \nbrigades. We are honoured to meet an officer of \nAlexander's forces. 1 \nam Aristotle son of \nNikomakhos for whom you have sent. This is my \nfriend Oromedon son of Daliokles of Kos. This is my friend \nStephanos son of Nikiarkhos, a man of \nAthens. We are told you can \ngive us news?' \n'Delighted to see you on board my ship,' said this military person, \nbowing. 'Peleus at your service. 1 have come from the interior of \nAsia \nand shall return to the southern coast. 1 have a commission to deliver, \nand will be pleased to be of use to you, Aristotle of Stageira. We \nshould converse - Pray sit down.' We sat on the small folding stools. \n'I have much to ask,' said Aristotle. 'First, and most important, 1 \nmust ask about the father of the young man in my charge. Young \n290 \n\n\nFACING ASIA \nParmenion, whose father Arkhebios, half-brother of Philotas the \nbrave, is in the army. Formerly posted in Rhodos, now 1 think \nfighting in Asia. My lad's even more famous grandfather is \nParmenion, long Alexander's second-in-command. Parmenion who \nfought with such distinction at Granikos and in the battle by Payas \nriver near Issos town. We enquire most earnestly for the health of \nArkhebios. ' \nPeleus frowned. \n'I fear,' he said gravely, 'we do not start on the happiest of \nnotes. 1 \nwish 1 had better news to relate. As for his health - Arkhebios is dead. \nHe died in one of those mountain skirmishes when the army was \npursuing Darius, and not in the main battle. His body could not be \nbrought back. You may tell Arkhebios' son that his father was \nproperly buried.' \n'I am sorry to hear this,' Aristotle said seriously. 'We feared as \nmuch. That the boy's father is dead sufficiently explains why we have \nnot heard from him. So 1 suppose we may give the lad into the care \nof \nhis grandfather Parmenion?' \n'This is even more difficult to say,' said Peleus. 'Hard to know how \nto put this. But there seems to have been some kind of disagreement \nbetween Alexander and Parmenion. Parmenion is no longer as \nfavoured as he was. He is not the second-in-command any more. He \nhas been told to take on the task of delivering the treasure of \nPersepolis to Ekbatana of the Medes, while Alexander pursues his \nconquests further in the East. Parmenion is even now engaged in this \ndifficult escort duty, rather than pursuing the Persian King to his last \nstronghold. 1 fear if you wish to advance the youth you speak of, \nArkhebios' son, it would not be a good policy to give him in charge of \nParmenion at this moment.' \n'Parmenion in disfavour!' Aristotle seemed much struck. 'Hard to \nimagine! Parmenion has been such a strong support of both Philip \nand Alexander. The army seemed to depend on him - and on \nPhilotas, too' \n291 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'Too bad!' said Oromedon, arranging his three locks of hair \ncarefully. 'But in many affairs men cool to each other and then warm \nagain. Likely this will all blow over in time.' \n'The army does not depend on one man,' said Peleus firmly. 'All of \nus serve to the best of \nour ability.' \n'Quite so, quite so.' Aristotle's eyes went upward as if he sought \ninspiration in the rought planking that served as a ceiling. He \nscratched his beard. The boat rocked slightly. \n'Our questions in this case are, sadly, answered. Thank you, \nhowever, for your candour in giving us the news which cannot be \nagreeable but must be heard. 1 wish also to ask you about my nephew \nKallisthenes. \n' \nPeleus' brow cleared. 'There 1 am happy to help you,' he said with \na smile. 'Kallisthenes will go far. His unflagging energy and attention \nto detail impress everyone. He has made himself useful in many \nthings, including the interrogations of Persian prisoners and the \norganisation of scouts and spies. 1 hear him well spoken of \neverywhere. Kallisthenes' ability to write truthful and yet captivating \nhistorical accounts has greatly endeared him to Alexander. The first \npart of his history of the campaigns of Alexander is already being \ncopied. What an indispensable history it will be! Alexander, so 1 hear, \nis most pleased with it. And Kallisthenes has been given many favours \nby the Commander.' \n'I expected no less,' said Aristotle, glowing. 'Kallisthenes has the \nmost remarkable abilities, and he begins with a store of learning \nsurprising in one so young.' \n'I have even better news to report,' said the soldier Peleus \nencouragingly \n. 'You will have every opportunity of meeting your \nnephew, should you wish to do so. For Alexander's friend the noble \nHarpalos is inviting you to come and meet him within Asia, and \nKallisthenes will accompany Harpalos.' \n'To see Kallisthenes - and meet Harpalos?' \n'Yes. My commission is to invite and entreat you to come back with \n292 \n\n\nFACING ASIA \nour contingent to Greek Phaselis in western Asia. Not really so far. \nHarpalos, Alexander's Treasurer, wishes to take advantage of your \nproximity to consult with you personally about affairs in Athens and \nelsewhere. Naturally, Alexander and his ministers need to know \nwhere their resources are best deployed.' \nAristotle looked at me. I said encouragingly, 'Don't worry about \nmyself, Aristotle, for as you know I have another personal com-\nmission to fulfil. While you are in Asia I must really wait in Kos for \nthe man you know of to return.' I didn't want to spell out all of my \naffairs in front of this military Peleus. It was no concern of his. If I \nwere a little surprised at having Aristotle spirited away from me, as it \nwere, so suddenly, I had no business to complain. I had come to the \nislands on business of my own. But Aristotle hesitated, his mouth \npursed in dubiety. \n'I should prefer,' he said at last, 'if it could be arranged that my \nfriend Stephanos accompany me. I have no other travelling com-\npanion on this journey -\nexcept my slave Phokon of course. \nStephanos' presence would be of assistance to me.' \n'No trouble in the world.' Peleus seemed confident. 'Two men \nare as easy to take along as one. You won't need to take your slave: \nyou are advised not to do so, for you will have abundant servants \nsupplied by us. But it would be suitable that you had some company \nfor the road. Both for the way out and the way back, for it's likely to \nbe a different group of us accompanying you back to the coast on \nyour return.' \n'If you would only come, Stephanos?' Aristotle turned to me. \n'Instead of waiting in a sedentary manner in Kos, you could take \nadvantage of the opportunity - perhaps the only one - to see some-\nthing of \nAsia.' I hesitated. This scheme was no part of \nmy own plans. \nBut - it was my chance to see Asia ... \n'If \nit were not for the expense - and the fact that I hadn't heard \nfrom home yet,' I began. \n'Pray, don't think of expense,' said Aristotle, while Peleus \n293 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nanswered, 'Oh, there will be no expenses. You will travel in royal \nstyle, all paid for. Your friend is welcome to come, Aristotle. Our \ndestination is between five and seven days' march from the coast.' \n'We go by land?' Aristotle was surprised. 'I took it you meant a \nquick sea journey to Phaselis.' \n'Not exactly. A swift journey to Halikarnassos port, and then \nonward by land. We are escorting supplies for several garrisons. You \nwill see something of \nAsia itself, not just the sea coast - and no danger \nof \npirates. You should arrive at Phaselis at the same time as Harpalos. \nKallisthenes will be travelling with Harpalos, and is himself delighted \nat the prospect of \na reunion. Here is his letter.' The epistle the soldier \nbrought forth was on two small waxed tablets, tied together and \nbacked with highly polished wood. \n'A letter from Kallisthenes! 1 recognise his scrawl,' said Aristotle, \nhappily seizing and perusing it instantly. 'Brief, Stephanos, but to the \npoint. This is what it says: \nTo my most honoured uncle Aristotle son of Nikomakhos, from \nKallisthenes, Greetings \nThat \nyou are well, dear uncle, is the prayer of \nthe writer, who also \nwishes for your presence. By the greatest good fortune we are closer \nto one another now than we have been for years, and nearer than I \ncould have hoped. I have turned back briefly to accompany \nHarpalos after travelling many parasangs with Alexander. I want \nto give you my new book. I earnestly hope you will come. Your sight \nwill give pleasure to the eyes of your affectionate and admiring \nnephew. \n'Oh, it is true,' said Aristotle, clutching the tablets. 'I cannot pass \nup such a chance. But we must think . . . This journey - the \ndifficulties.' Aristotle's face, which had lit up with his pleasure at \nhearing from Kallisthenes, became thoughtful again. \n'To go by land into Asia as far as Phaselis - that is an expedition. \n294 \n\n\nFACING ASIA \nHow long do we have? And how - what is expected -' \n'You need have no cares,' said Peleus. 'Nothing to worry about. No \nexpenses as I said, and hardly anything to arrange. You will want to \ncollect clothes and so on tonight. Don't bring too much with you. \nRemember, baggage impedes. We have blankets and pots, to be sure. \nCome aboard before dawn. I will keep our oarsmen here tonight so \nwe can make a rapid start on the morrow. It is a very short voyage \nindeed to Halikarnassos - as you know.' \nHe ushered us out of \nhis room again, and into the open. The setting \nsun burned its colours upon the waters around us as Peleus prepared \nto send us off. \n'A brief and pleasant voyage tomorrow. Once we disembark at \nHalikarnassos, by the little citadel, we proceed to the camp by Mylas \nGate - just a few stadia. A proper baggage train with horses and mules \nmeets us there, and we shall be on our way. We can travel quickly, we \nknow the road. No danger. It is cleared of Persians, and there are \nmilitary posting houses along the route. Best method of travelling! \nYou'll be surprised at how comfortable it is.' \n295 \n\n\nXVII \n==~9_,~e== \na---G \nThe Letter \nA small train of men, animals and wagons moved in a light cloud of \ndust along a hot and winding road. The winding road led down a \nprecipitous rough cliff. An onlooker - and there must have been \nonlookers (some hostile) in the hills - would have noticed the curious \nwagons and their load. They would have noted the excellence of \nmost \nof \nthe horses, the fine quality of \nthe dust from the arable land, and the \nmilitary discipline of the men. All save two. Aristotle and I moved \nwith the weariness of civilians, not accustomed to the regular tramp-\ntramp of an army. We had been going for some days; at times, it felt \nlike some weeks. \nI now thought rather enviously of \nour past experiences of \ntravelling \nby water. The most recent of our sea journeys was the short voyage \nfrom Kos to Halikarnassos. That could not take place until an \nunhappy errand had been fulfilled. We had gone in the middle of \nthe \nnight (or so it seemed by then) to break the news of the death of his \nfather to young Parmenion. Telling these tidings was by no means \npleasant, though Parmenion was not inclined to scream and cry. He \nstood pale and stony, a statue of misery. We had to leave him to \nIatrokles and Kleumedes to deal with. Aristotle and I then packed our \n296 \n\n\nTHE LETTER \nfew things and left the comfortable lodging in Kos at an uncom-\nfortably early hour. To my surprise, Oromedon joined us in the \ntender that once again set out for the big ship in the outer harbour. \n'Naturally, I could not be easy unless I had seen you off, Aristotle, \nand knew that you were in good hands,' he said. 'I regret so deeply \nthat you will not be under my roof! Fate snatches your visit from me. \nBut please convey my regards to your nephew Kallisthenes. And -\noh, yes - I find a message for your young friend Stephanos here was \nsent to my house last evening.' Oromedon handed me a letter. Two \nrather shabby waxed tablets, battered at the edges and bound with \ncoarse twine. The epistle was undoubtedly meant for me. The outer \npart bore a small piece of grubby papyrus sealed to the board with \npitch: \nTo Stephanos son of \nNikiarkhos \nWith Aristotle \nBy favour of \nOromedon \nson of \nDaliokles of \nKos \n'I recognise the handwriting!' I nearly shouted. 'Theodoros! My \nbrother, Theodoros. What a relief to my mind, to hear from home. \nForgive me but I shall open it straight away.' \nI broke the twine in a great hurry to see the letter. It \ndid not reward \nmy haste. \nThe waxen page within was very clean and new, and incised with a \nfew lines. First, a straggling line of salutation, large letters incised \nirregularly (as in the rest of \nthis epistle), in a youthful hand: \nTo my dear and honoured Brother Stephanos \nwas followed by a line that might be found in any ordinary letter: \nGreetings to you from Th and I trust you are well. \n297 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nSo far this was a conventional and proper opening. But no ordinary \nletter followed. Instead there were two lines of \npoetry - a quotation. \nThis couplet was followed by the short line Mother's love, and then the \nconventional word 'Farewell'. The whole of this puzzling epistle \ndidn't take up a page. The other page, the facing waxed side, was a \nperfect blank. \n'Strange,' I exclaimed. 'Aristotle, he does not write me a real letter, \nmerely sends a quotation - from Hesiod I think. What can he be \nthinking of? And I shouldn't have thought Theodoros knew Hesiod. \nHomer, yes, he's started Homer -' \n'Probably his schoolmaster quotes those lines,' Aristotle suggested, \nlooking over my shoulder. 'Conventional schoolmaster stuff. Works \nand Days. I have often quoted those lines myself: \n\"Best is that man above all men who everything can know, \nAnd next in good is humbler he who to these wise will go; \nWho cannot for himself see truth, or from another hear it \nTo store away in his own mind - this man is without merit.'\" \n'Yes, that sounds most likely.' Oromedon nodded sagely, having \npeered (uninvited) over my shoulder likewise. 'After all, how old is \nyour little brother?' \n'He is not yet ten years of age.' \n'There you are, then. He wishes to write something impressive to his \nelder brother, and to let you know they are all going on well at home. \nSo he sends this odd missive - a boy showing off and trying to look \ngrown-up. But at least,' Oromedon continued, 'you have the comfort, \nas you set off on your brief journey, of knowing that everyone is well \nand that your little brother has leisure to pursue his studies.' \nI read the letter again. \nTo my dear and honoured Brother Stephanos \nGreetings to you from Th and I trust you are well. \n298 \n\n\nTHE LETTER \nW'ho cannot for himself \nsee truth, or \nfrom another hear it \nTo store away in his own mind - this man is without merit. \nMother's love \nFarewell \n'It seems almost like a joke.' I frowned. 'Theodoros should know \nbetter than to play jokes or to show off at such a time. Expensive to \nsend such a letter all this way too, with no news - he might have said \nsomething about everyone.' I caught myself. It was impolite to \ngrumble about something that was certainly not the fault of my \ncompany. Nor did I have reason to seem churlish to Oromedon, \nespecially since he was such an important man in Kos. \n'I thank you a thousand times for delivering this to me,' I said \nearnestly. 'You have gone out of your way to accommodate me and \nmine. Let me reimburse you for anything you have had to pay a \nmessenger. \n' \nOro \nmedon waved away any question of payment with an elegant \nair of \nfinality. \nThe short ride in the little boat gave me time for reading and \npondering Theodoros' epistle, but we were soon scrambling aboard \nthe great ship. The three-banked vessel looked very splendid in the \ndawn light. Baggage was being loaded aboard, including, I saw, \nseveral great parcels of sharp spears, piles of helmets, and even parts \nof siege engines. Peleus and his adjutant supervised these, whilst his \nmen inspected and stowed bags of \nflour and unwieldy flour mills and \nother humble goods. In much less time than I expected, we were \nwaving farewell to Oromedon as our great ship set out for sea. \nIt \nwas exciting to be on a vessel with such an enormous number of \nrowers. We plunged magnificently through the waves, the ship \nseeming to pass the measure of \nher own length with one sweep of \nthe \ngreat oars. It felt as if there were no pause at all. The men worked \nmiraculously together and the vessel shuddered as if \nwith excitement \n299 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nat this power. The keleusma on such a big ship is practically deafening, \nunignorable; I wondered how anybody could get used to it. The \nspeaker or singer was accompanied at one end of \nthe ship by a piper, \nat the other by a heavy triangle struck at the same instant as his cry. \nThe metallic shout and the whistle blended with the human in an \nunearthly concert of \npure sound. \nAristotle was made uncomfortable by the sight of the rowers \nworking together with unremitting and concentrated labour. \n'But this is a mill, Stephanos!' he exclaimed. 'A giant mill, where \nthe men are made into parts, like blind oxen and donkeys that turn a \nstone. How can one make citizens of \npeople who do so?' \n'Well, they get paid, and they do make us go fast,' I pointed out \npractically. \nIndeed, the coast of Asia loomed close, rising out of a drapery of \nwhite morning mist. Kos receded rapidly. I regretted leaving its quiet \nhospitality and friendly doctors. And suppose my brother-in law (to \nbe) returned to this island while I was not there? True, I had asked \nlatrokles to get in touch with him, but would the doctor remember? \nWe proceeded parallel with the Cape of Myndos, passing an odd \ntriangular hill and then swooping to our harbourage. Halikarnassos \nitself \nwas masked by two or three low scrubby islands, and only when \nwe passed between them could we see the magnificent harbour, and \nbehind it the ragged edges of the broken city set on low hills. The \nharbour is a great semicircle; as you approach it there is a castellation \non the right, and to the left a fortification and towers (ruined now) on \na high and terraced hill, with an outlook over the whole harbour. The \nwalls of this town had never been mended; they consisted largely of \nheaps of \nstone lying about. Here and there I could make out the shape \nof a building. One structure had notoriously been spared - by \nAlexander's personal order. Directly ahead of us, rising above the \nwrecked centre of the town, was the glittering Mausoleum, monu-\nment to the dead ruler Mausolus put up by his widow (and sister) \nArtemisia, twenty years before the city fell to Alexander. On top of a \n300 \n\n\nTHE LETTER \npyramid stands a four-horse chariot in bronze and gold, with giant \nstatues of \nMausolus and Artemisia in it. They appeared unduly smug, \ndriving along in their splendour over the ruins of their people and \ntheir city. \nThe Mausoleum is just beyond the port, which was surprisingly \nbusy. We heard the sounds of activity, the work of the hammers of \nsmiths and the cries of \nvegetable sellers. A row of \nhopeless beggars sat \nin the sun - men mostly, wounded and useless. The beggars exhibited \na variety of afflictions, and their appeals and groans mingled with the \nmore vivacious cries of the hucksters. 'Pray, a small coin, sir?' 'Spare \nsomething for a poor man, I beseech.' Some said nothing, perhaps \nalmost resigned to their fate. One pathetic man had a wen and a raw \nscar. Next to him sat a blind man, in a ragged and foul cloak with a \nkind of \nhood; he made no appeal, simply waggled a dirty foot to and \nfro, groaning occasionally and incoherently. He was too repulsive to \ntempt one to go near, his skin scabbed with dreadful red sores. \nIn what had once been a city you could see the fallen towers and \nstones burnt black, with a few charred beams not yet cleared away. I \nhad heard before of the fire and the devastation from someone who \nwas in Halikarnassos when it was taken. It was not rebuilt. Here and \nthere would appear an apologetic group of \ndwellings in ill-made mud \nbrick - humble housing that had either been spared or was thrown up \nafter the cataclysm. You couldn't imagine this city truly recovering. \nYet some poor folks were actually dwelling in the scorched ruins, as \ntheir rags showed. \n'Oh, yes,' said Peleus. 'They hunt about for pickings from the \nruins, largely. And there are some wells of good water in there, once \nthey're cleansed and purified. The harbour supplies work. Queen \nAda is anxious to put things back on something like the old footing. \nA slow business. We have assuredly clean wells with excellent water \nfor the garrison at Mylas Gate. Also stabling for a good number of \nanimals there. You'll see how convenient it is.' \nThe men, having quickly unloaded the ship, with the help of \nmules \n301 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nand carts moved the goods to the garrison station, a series of sheds, \ntemporary houses and stables. Some soldiers and their servants were \nwaiting to join us. \n'Another shipment of arms and armour just came down from the \nNorth,' said Peleus, pleased. 'We'll add them to our load - we will be \ntaking armaments and a few other supplies with us. Won't take us \nlong to load up. One never goes east without taking some more \nsupplies. Here, this is Menestor, a Theban slave. He can assist you. \nHis Greek is perfect of course, but he knows Persian by now too.' \nA diffident young man, rather grimy like most slaves but with a \nhumble uncertain smile, came to see if we wanted anything. \nAttentively he offered us food and drink while we were waiting, and \ncarefully made sure our luggage was stowed properly away. 1 felt \nuncomfortable dealing with a slave from Thebes, and remarked on \nthis to Peleus. \n'Well, you must realise there are a lot of Theban slaves,' he said \nfrankly. 'Something like thirty thousand men, women, and children \nwere made captive at the fall of \nthat defiant city. And of \ncourse a lot \nof people on the mainland don't like having them, so a great \nproportion of \nthem were brought over here to Asia. Quite a number \nserve the army, which needs many Greek-speaking porters. They \nare quite serviceable. That boy makes himself useful. You see how \nsmartly the men and their attendants get things ready. We can soon \nset off.' \nTrue, the preparations had gone quickly. Alexander's army and \nthose who served it were used to efficiency. 'I am surprised at the \norder with which you arrange the things in the wagons,' 1 remarked. \n'I am more surprised,' said Aristotle, 'to see wagons at all. 1 believe \nAlexander, like his father, is firmly against their use.' \n'Oh, that's in warfare,' said Peleus. 'Yes Philip and Alexander like \nthe army to move along briskly. There's no doubt wagons are slow. \nHaving slaves to carry stuff and march with you is much faster - and \nof course each soldier carries his own basic supplies and weapons. \n302 \n\n\nTHE LETTER \nYou know that Alexander forbade women and children of \nany kind to \nfollow the army, and the ban on wagons supported that policy. But \nthat ban applies to an army on the march, invading and conquering. \nNowadays we have settled garrisons to supply. Naturally, we use \nwagons and large carts, and take all sorts of heavy loads. We have a \ngreat many mules, for one thing - and tough and strong, so we can \ncover the ground. Let's be om' \nThere were military men armed to the head and to the rear of our \nparty, and where Aristotle and I walked in the middle there was also \nan armed soldier. Instead of \nmaking me feel safer, this was alarming. \nI suddenly realised that I had come to a region at war, or recently \npacified, where armed insurrection was a possibility. \n'Don't worry,' said Peleus, seeing, as it were, into my thoughts. \n'This land is ours now.' \nI was no longer in Attika, my native and good Attika, where our \nancestors sprang out of the soil. We know it is our natural place; we \nbelong on land that is truly ours. Sword-taken land seems another \nkind of thing from home land. Every step I took I felt I was going in \nthe wrong direction, farther and farther away from my home, from \nmy mother whom I had sworn to protect, and from my puzzling \nTheodoros, who was old enough to write, it seemed, but not of \nage to \nmake sense. \nWe came to a river, which I was told was the Xanthos. Barges were \nlined up for our use, and with our supplies (including heaps of \nanimal \nfodder) and our cargo of arms and armour we got into them and \nmoved on down the river. The flat boats were propelled partly by the \ndraught power of animals and partly by men rowing or pushing the \ncraft along. We had a good view of \nsome of \nthe land and the trees; the \nbreeze from the river made a welcome coolness. Too soon we had to \nget out and march again, at the staging post by the riverside where a \nhost of animals and some more soldiers awaited us. Again, the cargo \nwas put aboard wagons and carts (except for some equipment left at \nthis post), and we set off, marching on and on. Soon we were covered \n303 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nwith the fine dust that floated up from the arable ground, beaten into \na flour by the tramp of \nmen and animals. \nAristotle and I were offered a place to ride in a wagon, under a linen \nshelter, but we refused. It was too undignified, in the presence of \nthese soldiers to sit (like old ladies or wanton camp-followers) on top \nof the armour and baggage. We marched with the rest. \nThe pace was \nnot too hard for civilians, but it was hard in the sense that we could \nnot stop and dally at our own sweet will. Not at all like travelling to \nDelphi. Although my journey to Delphi had its more frightening \naspects, I remembered the meadows, and the places where we \nstopped to eat and look at the flowers and hear the (quarrelsome) \nshepherds sing. Now the songs we heard were military ditties. From \nthe people whom we passed, silence. \nWe had to stop occasionally to let the animals eat and drink. \n'They seem to need a lot of \nwater,' I remarked. \n'And food,' said Peleus. 'That's the difficulty of organising any \nkind of army expedition - keeping up with the demands not only of \nthe men, but also of the animals. When you work the animals hard, \nthey drink even more. We calculate how much fodder the animals will \nneed - we cannot always rely on the land. We now have charts \nshowing where the good wells are. An expedition like this is nothing \ncompared to a truly major operation. I must admit, Parmenion is \nwonderfully able in organising transport in big operations - almost as \ngood as Alexander himself. Now, they tell me, Parmenion, in order to \ntransport the great Persian treasure to Ekbatana, must take twenty \nthousand mules and five thousand camels!' \n'Ah! Five thousand camels?' said Aristotle, brightening. 'Then it is \nno wonder that Alexander has asked him to conduct this complex \nexpedition. Only Parmenion could deal with it. That gives me cause \nto hope that there is no real falling-out between Parmenion and \nAlexander. Such a task might be seen as a high compliment.' \n'Perhaps,' was Peleus' only reply. But Aristotle whispered to me, \n'This man is not of high enough position to know the truth about \n304 \n\n\nTHE LETTER \ngenerals. We must enquire of \nKallisthenes, or Harpalos.' \nEach night we stopped at a posting house, as promised. There was \ndinner every night, and we usually slept under some sort of roof, \nthough in a place with open walls to let the air in, as it was so hot. The \nanimals, both by night and by day, emitted a good deal of \nnoise, and \nsome smell. The army possessed (or had commandeered) an endless \nsupply of donkeys and mules, most of \nwhich seemed to bray outside \nmy bedchamber. There were numerous and very handsome horses. \nAll these animals emitted unignorable smells. \nAt the posting stations they also had a few oxen for really heavy \nloads, but these slow beasts were used for local transport. We were, \nhowever, escorting some heavy loads of valuable equipment. I saw \none wagon full of sarissas, those very long light spears favoured by \nMakedonians, and a cart brimming over with shining bronze helmets \nand corselets. \n'I should have thought,' 1 said looking at these, 'that by now you \nhad the Persians making this sort of thing.' \nPeleus laughed. \n'Yes, we have taken over all the Persian manufactories, and they are \nremarkably good. They have made armaments and armour for Darius \nand his ancestors for many ages. But, you understand, a lot of \nGreek \ngenerals and most Makedonians, especially the leaders, don't want to \nfight with anything but the best - and what they are used to. So they \nsend back for weapons and armour from the mainland. The sarissas \ncome from Pella or from Deon, in Makedonia.' \n'And the bronze helmets and corselets are certainly from Khalkis,' \nsaid Aristotle, fingering one of \nthese in a thoughtful and familiar way. \n'Where else could you find quality like that?' \nSo in this military style we were marching day after day at a good \npace, in company with horses, mules, asses and men, through huge \nbrown hills which became increasingly craggy. The country is very \nvast: it seemed bigger than Greece. Sometimes you would see fields \nstretching to the horizon and then hill after great hill. When we \n305 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF l.lFE \nturned south we occasionally caught a glimpse of \ndramatic crags and \ncliffs plunging seaward. The weather was hot, save when a breeze \nblew, which was rarely. In the fields, a few peasants toiled. \n'We thought it best,' Peleus explained, 'to let some of \nthe Persians \ngo on growing crops. We need the food. It would not help us if the \nregion were consumed by famine. But more of the farms are being \ntaken over by Greek settlers, and we hope eventually to have the \ninland area just as Greek as the coast.' \n'Do the remaining Persians not try to resist and fight you?' I asked. \nHe laughed. 'They have very little chance against a well-armed and \norganised army, I assure you. Most of them know better. Besides, \nhere in western regions of Asia they cannot go far - we have taken \nover most of their animals. And a lot of the people are dead or have \nfled. But the peasants remaining can still grow food. We had a good \nwheat harvest. Observe how fruitful this land is - how valuable.' \nIt was literally fruitful, for we were now on a road above a \nsteep valley in which were orchards of fig and pomegranate trees, \nheavy with fruit. A few women were working sadly among the \npomegranates. \n'Splendid!' cried Aristotle. 'With such wealth the Greeks can feed \nthemselves - almost, one is tempted to think, the world. Improved by \nbetter management, both Egypt and Asia will give such provision that \nwe may no more fear famine - that great evil to mankind.' \n'But I dare say Darius thought well of this land for feeding his \nPersians,' I said, laughing a little on thinking of that discomfited \nKing. Yet I was not entirely happy to think of all the people killed or \nfled who had lived a few years ago in these prosperous homesteads \nand tilled the fields. \n'Well, Darius should soon be done for,' said Peleus impatiently. \n'Then we will know the real peace has begun. It is a great pity we are \nstill chasing Darius. He has gone into that hinterland of \nmountains, a \nvery inhospitable region beyond the real Persia. So it will take time to \ndig him out. That is where the man you were asking about -\n306 \n\n\nTHE LETTER \nArkhebios - fell. In one of the many little fights among the crags of \nthat grim country.' \n'Sad,' said Aristotle. 'One of the misfortunes of war. But the \nCommander should make it up to the man's family. And to gain such \na fair country for Greece is worth even the painful expense of \nlives as \nwell as of \nmaterial and time. This war is changing the world.' \n'It is wonderful,' I assented. 'But I wonder how easy the Persian \nlands will be to retain? Could not the Persians complain to the gods \nthat we captured them unjustly, as they were not making war on us \nwhen we invaded?' \n'What kind of \ncomplaint could they make to their gods, Stephanos, \nsince in days of \nold they themselves were simply conquerors of \nall this \nland? Persia marched into this region, which was largely settled by \nGreeks. There were other peoples here before; there is a good deal of \nmixture in the population. \n'My greatest hope, Stephanos, is that this great war and this new \ncircumstance of having almost a new world to settle and control will \nbring to the Hellenes what they so badly need. Unity. Greece - or at \nleast parts of \nit - is the leader among mankind in all civilised arts, and \nin practical matters too. Where do you find better things - from flutes \nand house tiles to corselets and statues? Where is there a poetry like \nthat in the Greek language - or a language more lovely and expressive \nin itself? Moreover, where are there better laws, or a deeper under-\nstanding of a political constitution? Greece is the treasure-house of \ncivilisation. But what holds her back? Simply that Greek fights Greek. \nEven within the same city-state there are civic quarrels, factions, even \nbroils and bloodshed. And Athens and Sparta, two great com-\nmunities, wasted their strength in fighting each other. Now in this \ncause all of Hellas unites - or can unite.' \n'That is an amazing vision,' I said. 'I am not sure if! like it. Not if \nit means Athens becomes less like Athens. I shall always be an \nAthenian.' \n'It is my belief \n- my prayer, if \nyou like - that the settlement of \nAsia \n307 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nwill bring about the political peace and humane stability of \nwhich the \nAthenian - and all other Greeks - may be capable but have not yet \nrealised. We could create a new Athens without its defects. The first \nto benefit from the new way of things, really, are the wretched \ninhabitants of \nthis region whom you see before you. For they will now \nshare in the arts and letters and political structures of the Greek \nworld. When they have been taught aright, and the area has been \nleavened with new settlers, all the inhabitants will recognise their \nbenefits and blessings, and hasten to create a brighter order. New \ncities will arise here, adorned with marble council halls and high-\npillared temples. Citizens will move in an orderly way to vote in their \nown councils, each a citizen of \nhis own city, but all sharing the great \nidea. Then the earth will be full of light. The light of learning and \nknowledge, with good trade, good art, good medicine - and the \nhighest philosophic thinking about the good of \nmankind and the best \npolitical structure. In that new world, all mankind will eventually \nparticipate, and old disunity be done away.' \nHe was breathless with the quick, passionate utterance of his \nlong speech and the rapture of his vision. Truth to tell, I had not \nthought about any of \nthis. To me, the war against Persia had been a \nkind of grumbling nuisance. For the first time I felt how it would \naffect my children, and my children's children. I was not sure that I \nwanted all this alteration - it was like someone giving you too much \ndinner. \n'I admit that it makes a change,' I said slowly. \n'You will live to see it all. I have written carefully to Kallisthenes -\nas he keeps such close company with Alexander - about our civilising \nof Asia. All our policies in the conquered lands should drive to this \nend. Oh, how happy I am to think I shall see Kallisthenes soon! I have \nmissed him. You will like my nephew, Stephanos.' \n'I am sure I shall,' I said, politeness masking my relative lack of \ninterest. I could think only of my little brother Theodoros. Was he \nshowing off? Impudent? Or merely practising his handwriting? Was \n308 \n\n\nTHE LETTER \nhis handwriting better or worse than I remembered it? I wanted to \nlook at the letter again, but felt reluctant to discuss it. \nAt this point, we had to save our breath and shut off discourse lest \nwe tumble or fall behind. We were winding down steep mountainous \ncliffs, turning once more towards the sea coast. It was prudent to \nwatch one's footing, so as not to tumble straight down the rough \nincline on to the rocks below. Then we reached a kind of road along \na beach, where sand made the going difficult. \nI could scarcely believe that the journey would not go on and on, \nand I felt no sensation stronger than that of \nsurprise when Peleus said \nwe were approaching our objective, the harbour city of Phaselis. He \nhimself seemed brighter at the thought, and regaled us with the \nglories of the town, including a freshwater lake. 'There is an inland \ntown called Milyas,' he added, 'or there was, but Alexander destroyed \nit as he wanted to keep the passes open, without danger of attack. \nPhaselis is surrounded by mountains.' He laughed. 'One mountain \nwe call \"The Ladder\". Our army had practically to carve steps in it -\nso steep! At its foot is a narrow pass on shore which is dry in calm \nweather but full of \nsea at flood tide. Alexander insisted on going over \ninto Pamphylia in stormy weather, when the water had come in - you \nmust believe it! Soldiers had to march in water up to their belly-\nbuttons.' \nAs we were simply coming from the west, however, and the sea was \nebbing, we soon marched more or less dry-shod, and gained Phaselis, \nwith its three harbours. Phaselis was quite in tune with Aristotle's \nvision, for it is a handsome Greek city (if \nsmall). Its walls, temples and \nmeeting houses were intact. \n'This was one of the wise cities,' said Peleus. 'The leaders of the \ntown came out with a gold wreath for Alexander and offered the city \nto him. Greek place, as you can see. An important garrison now. \nAlexander placed Nearkhos here to govern Lykia and Pamphylia.' \nI felt at home - or almost - there in Phaselis, looking about me at \nthe shining marble buildings in the centre of the town. Had the \n309 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \ngovernor Nearkhos been there, of course we should have introduced \nourselves, but we were told he was away. The streets and the Agora \nwere full of soldiers, so Phaselis was less like a normal town than it \nfirst looked. Yet, there would be taverns here, and songs that I knew. \nBut I was not to stay to examine the place. \nWe stopped, not at the central military office next to the governor's \nhouse, but at a guard post in the eastern wall of the city. Here we \ndropped off some of our freight, and a couple of \nnew soldiers joined \nus. 'This is Diophantos, who knows his way backward and forward by \nnow along the coast of Lykia,' said Peleus introducing this captain. \n'He has charge of a platoon which will be useful to you in getting \neverything around and up the hill road. For it seems we must go on -\na new message with orders for us.' \n'Yes. So sorry to incommode you,' said Diophantos pleasantly. He \nwas a nondescript man with a broad sunburned face and agreeable \nmanner. 'We have had a message from Harpalos saying that if he \nwasn't at Phaselis by the time you got here, you and your party were \nto go on and meet him in the next posting station, in the direction of \nSide. Wait for him there.' \n'Well, we must do so,' said Peleus resignedly. 'Might as well start \noff at once.' \nWe didn't start off at once, as there was a little discussion about \nwhether we should take 'The Ladder' or the beach route. As we still \nhad carts and some baggage, including supplies for Harpalos, \neverybody elected the beach. The going was squelchy and slow and \nwe all had to put our shoulders to the carts to hoist them out of \nwet \nsand from time to time. To get to the posting station we had to climb \nsharply uphill. Lykia is vertical country. This next posting station east \nof Phaselis was, like many others, set in a wretched ruined village, as \nthat offered good well water and the shelter of the few walls left \nstanding. We were told to wait in a shed-like structure attached to a \nlarge expanse of \nbroken wall. Here we had a roof \nthatched with leaves \nand brush to keep off the sun, but not much else. After the promise \n310 \n\n\nTHE LETTER \nof marbled Phase \nlis, we might as well have been in the middle of \nnowhere. \nWaiting seemed worse than walking, but we were fortunate, for the \nday after our arrival the scout announced a cloud of dust on the \neastern road, and assured us that the party of Harpalos was \napproaching from Side. He proved a true prophet. Aristotle and I, in \nrespectable clothing, were urged to meet the Treasurer and friend of \nAlexander as soon as he arrived. We lined up obediently, looking in \nthe direction of the approaching storm of dust, hearing its horses' \nhoofbeats and beholding the looming horsemen as they emerged each \nfrom his particular cloud. \n311 \n\n\nXVIII \n==~g_,~e== \n0'-'6 \nHarpalos the Treasurer \nHarpalos, first to arrive, looked down at us for a moment, not \nimmediately dismounting from his remarkably beautiful white horse. \nMan and horse, even if dusty, looked finer than statues. Harpalos, \nsitting easily on his lovely steed, was dressed not only for riding but \nfor war. He wore no helmet, but his red tunic was covered by a \ncorselet of the cleanest bronze, ornamented with sculpture work in \nrelief depicting a crowd of \nmen looking towards the sun. Untarnished \nand undented, the bronze glittered in the hot rays of the day. About \nhis neck a scarf glittered like a cobwebs with dew on it, some kind of \nairy Persian work. It had floated lightly behind him when he rode, and \nnow rested in graceful folds. \n'Well!' Harpalos broke into a broad smile, most pleas~ng to \nbehold. His teeth were white and even, his smile no vulgar grin but \nthe smile of a gentleman who delights in meeting a friend. 'A happy \nmeeting! 0 Aristotle son of Nikomakhos, it is good in you to \ncome this long journey to see me.' His clear grey eyes, set wide apart \nin his sun-bronzed face, gazed at us from above with concentrated \ninterest. \n'It is an honour to see you, 0 Harpalos son of Makhatas,' said \n312 \n\n\nHARPALOS THE TREASURER \nAristotle mildly. 'This is my good and trustworthy friend, a man of \nAthens, Stephanos son ofNikiarkhos.' \n'A friend of \nyours is welcome, 0 Aristotle. For you know the good. \nMen, mark this day as fortunate -' turning to those cavalrymen \nbehind him - 'for we lay eyes on one of the great men of our age, \nAristotle the philosopher of Athens, who toils for the empire of \nknowledge and virtue.' \nThe men set up a dutiful murmur of \napplause as Harpalos wheeled \nhis horse about. 'The two of \nyou must share such poor shelter as I cali \noffer. I shall let my horse take a well-earned rest.' He moved to the \narea set aside for the best horses, a light shed to protect them from the \nhot sun, and leaped off his steed. One of his men stood by to help \nhim. I realised with a shock that this impressive man was crippled, \none leg slightly withered and shorter than the other. He seemed active \nenough, despite his lameness, and certainly used to riding. The horse \nnodded peacefully as Harpalos laid a hand on its nose. The other \nMakedonians came up and the grooms took charge of the horses, \nrubbing them and feeding them grains since grazing herbage was \nscarce in this sunburnt place. \nHarpalos strode towards us with his energetic but uneven gait; his \nsoldiers and some servants who had arrived in a second wave were \nalready unloading baggage. We stood at the opening of the \nunadorned shelter that served this station's visitors, and resumed our \ngreetings. \n'So good in you to come,' repeated Harpalos with hearty goodwill. \n'Sorry not to have met you in Phase \nlis, but I have ridden all the way \nfrom Side.' The ride did not seem to have incommoded him. Despite \nhis disability this man seemed youthful, full of energy. He was of \ncourse slightly older than I, a schoolfellow, as I now recalled, of \nAlexander - Alexander's age or just a trifle older, perhaps twenty-\nseven or twenty-eight. A man just arrived at his prime, and flowering \nin that prime. His height was in his torso and he looked less tall \nstanding than he did sitting. But he was undeniably good looking -\n313 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nnot as beautiful as Demetrios of Phaleron, but almost. He had the \nstraight well-cut nose of a nobleman, and those winning frank grey \neyes. \n'Well, Aristotle, it is good to see you. How it brings back the days \nof \nmy boyhood,' he continued. 'Do you remember the day we - Alex \nand I - released all the horses in the stables and put a gadfly on the \nrear of each? So the poor steeds, from the noblest stallion to the \npitifullest knock-kneed hack, all fell to galloping in every direction \nover the whole world?' He turned and gave me the benefit of \nhis smile \nalso. 'We were bad boys at that time, you see. Oh, those were the \nhappy days.' \n'And you do not seem unhappy now,' said Aristotle, smiling. 'You \nhave a high position. We are truly honoured in meeting you, 0 \nHarpalos.' \n'And so - but why do we stay to talk in this pen!' Harpalos looked \nabout him with disfavour. Our shed was indeed little better than a \nshelter for animals, though it had an impressive view of \nthe sea below, \nbroad and endless, burning blue and white and golden in the summer \nsun. 'I have asked my servants to make us a worthy room in the shade \nof \nthis shanty. I did not ask you here, Aristotle - you and your friend \nwho is so kind as to accompany you - in order to make you miserable \nin this poky little place. Come, we shall see what my fellows can \nprovide for us.' \nHe led the way around the exterior wall. On the shadier side three \nmen were setting up a tent on the bare ground. From a roll of \nmaterial \nin a slender bag they quickly conjured up an elegant white structure, \nfluttering gently in the breeze, but apparently fixed solidly enough to \nthe ground. And the ground was not to be bare any more, for with \nquick gestures the men ran about, strewing strange colourful stuffs \nand tapestries upon the earth, so that we were led into a miniature \nand quick-made palace. \n'Seat yourselves,' said Harpalos, handing us each a cushion in a \nhospitable manner. It was most affable of \nhim to see personally to our \n314 \n\n\nHARPALOS THE TREASURER \ncomfort. 'I had my fellows set it up so we shall get the breeze from the \nsea, without the glare. And, with my men standing guard outside, I \ncan take off my armour.' He shrugged himself out of his handsome \ncorselet. 'Made to my measure at my instructions,' he explained. 'A \nlight hard bronze, so it is not inconvenient but the heat does make a \ndifference. The scarf keeps my neck from burning.' \nHe clapped his hands and two servants appeared - Persian, I could \nguess by their appearance. He spoke to them quickly in an unknown \ntongue and they bowed and left the tent. \nAristotle laughed. 'You are becoming a master of languages, \nHarpalos. I knew a couple of Persian magi - Plato had them at the \nAkademeia. But the only word I could make out was \"chicken\".' \n'Then I cannot surprise you with our meal!' Harpalos retorted. \n'Too bad. But I have a better surprise for you. It will be ready by the \ntime another party arrives, bringing one of my treasures that I am \nanxious to show you. ' \n'I shall be happy to see it.' Aristotle was polite. \n'But - where is \nKallisthenes? I was promised Kallisthenes would be here.' \n'Yes, Kallisthenes of Olynthos. Your nephew, I believe? Our \nCommander's historian and adulator. Eager to see you, I promise \nyou. He is conducting the other party I just spoke of and will be here \nshortly.' \n'Now we are at leisure, we must congratulate you on your \npromotion. \n' \n'I wouldn't call it precisely that,' Harpalos said easily.' Something \nI could do for Alexander. You remember I was Treasurer before, after \nthe death of Philip.' \n'And I am glad,' said Aristotle, 'that whatever differences you and \nmy other pupil have had in the past have been patched up.' \n'Oh, well,' said Harpalos, 'all that has been widely misreported, I \nthink. I went to Megara to help Alexander. Of course I missed the \nbattle at Issos town. But of course you must know - I cannot fight. \nNot with this leg - and not with this arm.' He gazed ruefully down at \n315 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nthis left arm and I suddenly saw that it too was withered, and the \nextremity of it was immobile. The hand was like a limp claw, not in \nuse. \n'As you see, young man -' he gazed at me squarely. 'That hand \ncould grasp neither sarissa nor buckler. Alexander knows I cannot be \na warrior in the field. But Alexander needs about him true men of \nMakedonia - nobles of his own kind, that he can trust. And he can \ntrust me. You know of our history of old, Aristotle. My loyalty has \nbeen tried - and proved.' \n'Yes, indeed, I know it has. Harpalos,' Aristotle explained to me, \n'was sent into exile by King Philip, who was jealous of the loyalty of \nsome of \nAlexander's men.' \n'That was after King Philip's second marriage,' added Harpalos. \n'Boy! Fetch us some wine here. Yes, Philip (though he was old \nenough to know better) was besotted with his new wife and cast off \nQueen Olympias, Alexander's mother, using her and even Alexander \nwith disgrace. Those of us who were true to Alexander were badly \ntreated.' \n'Great men like Philip are always expecting treachery,' remarked \nAristotle. \n'But the group who remained loyal to Alexander through exile or \nimprisonment - these Alexander knows he can trust. We are the \nGood Companions. Boy, serve my guests in the best goblets.' \nWe made libation, and Harpalos stretched; he lay back on a \ncushion, as one glad to be at leisure. I noticed, as he drank his wine \nand rested, that there was a strong line on his face, a furrow carved \nfrom nose to mouth, such as one sees in those who have suffered \nillness or pain. It cannot have been easy for crippled Harpalos to \nremain so active. Perhaps, handsome and debonair as he seemed, he \nwas not free now from bodily pain. \n'Bit of a journey,' he explained, as if reading my thoughts. 'Came \nby ship from Damaskos, and went to Perge and then to Side. \nCarrying messages from Alexander to the governors. Philoxenos, in \n316 \n\n\nHARPALOS THE TREASURER \nwhose charge the western part of \nAsia is laid, is busy with the fleet in \nthe Aegean. He can hardly be everywhere. So I do a few errands in \nthe West. We mustn't neglect the cities and stations in the West while \nwe push our way East. Mind you, my own headquarters are really in \nBabylon. A most beautiful place - we are trying to restore it to all its \nglory. Even Damaskos seems now a long way westward. A busy time \nwe're having in the East. I have good news that will surprise you!' \n'Yes?' said Aristotle eagerly. We both leaned forward to hear. \nHarpalos rose from his cushioned place and stood up in the middle \nof \nthe tent to make his dramatic announcement. \n'Darius - Darius the great King of Persia - is dead!' \n'What? Really?' we exclaimed. \n'Yes. I have talked with those who saw his corpse. You must know \nthat Darius had sought shelter with his friend and loyal supporter \nBessus - one of the great Persian commanders at Issos, you will \nremember. But Bessus, like a treacherous hound, turned against his \nmaster in his last extremity and put Darius under arrest, proclaiming \nhimself the new King. Alexander went in swift pursuit of Darius, all \nthe way to the Hyrkanian gates. Then with a picked band of cavalry \nhe rushed after the fugitive Bessus. Alexander must have gone like the \nwind! Amazing, the distance he covered in eight days. Going over \nterrible country, I promise you. Anyway, the rebels had Darius with \nthem in a cart with bars on the sides, a moving prison, with two \ngenerals to guard him. When they saw the Makedonians coming, \nthese two generals Satibarzanes and Barsaentes knew there was no \nsafety for them. So they stabbed Darius themselves and fled away \nwith six hundred other horsemen, to hide in the desert.' \n'And thus the Great King died,' murmured Aristotle. 'The end of \nthe story of \nDarius' life.' \n'And what an end! I tell you, the rascals in their haste to run off \ndidn't even stab the King properly. Darius wasn't dead when they \nsped away! Darius was just gasping his last when our men came up. \nSo - there is the end of the golden king. Powerful Darius, with his \n317 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nthousands and hundreds of thousands, his wealth and his strength. \nKilled pitifully, like a stuck pig in a farm cart. How much better and \nmore honourable a death it would have been for him had he fallen at \nGaugamela!' \n'Extraordinary,' said Aristotle. 'History is certainly rich in the \nmarvellous. How has Alexander conducted himself at this victory?' \n'Oh, Alexander is noble. You must be proud of \nhim, Aristotle - as \none of \nhis former tutors and as a Makedonian yourself. For Alexander \nswore to pursue and capture Bessus and all Darius' murderers. And \nDarius, his great opponent, Alexander has had honourably buried in \nPersepolis.' \n'That is true greatness of mind!' exclaimed Aristotle. 'I am most \nheartily glad to hear it.' \n'What about Bessus?' 1 enquired. \n'Bess \nus? They're looking for him. Treacherous dog. 1 dare say they \nhave found him by now, and 1 shouldn't envy him when they do. \nBetter for him too had he fallen at Gaugamela. Hark! 1 think 1 hear \nthe other party approaching.' \nThe man's hearing was excellent; shortly after, we too heard the \nnoise not only of hooves but of wheels, and then voices. Harpalos' \neyes grew bright. He rose quickly from his cushioned lair. \n'Stay here,' he commanded. 'I will bring a beautiful thing to you, \nto delight your eyes.' \nHe left the tent. 1 could see Aristotle fidgeted to go out likewise, but \nour orders were clear. There was a babble of voices outside; soon 1 \nheard someone walking with haste - even running - towards our tent. \n'Uncle!' A young man burst through the tent flaps and almost \nleaped upon Aristotle, who was already moving towards him. With-\nout first pausing for polite sentences of greeting, the two embraced, \nwith great affection. \n'You will impress our friends by our formal manners,' Aristotle \nremarked. '0 Kallisthenes, 1 have missed you!' \n'And 1 you! 1 couldn't miss a chance to see you. Not that 1 would \n318 \n\n\nHARPALOS THE TREASURER \nhave missed this whole expedition to Asia for anything in the world.' \nKallisthenes was almost boyish. His fair hair curled along his head \nand down his neck. But I could see on second glance that he was older \nthan Harpalos, a man certainly in this thirties. Aristotle's favourite \nnephew was tall, well-formed, thin in a manly way, in the seasoned \nshape of one who lives much in the open air. \nAristotle introduced us, and I was the object of \na glance from those \nglowing deep-set eyes, disconcertingly a younger version of \nAristotle's \nown. 'I am happy to meet a new friend,' Kallisthenes said. 'But I am \nsorry not to see some older friends. Theophrastos - wouldn't it be \npleasant if Theophrastos was here? - Or Demetrios of Phaleron, \nstudent of both of you. Demetrios will be one of the greatest of us. \nHow I should love to talk with Theophrastos about the plants we have \ndiscovered in Asia! I have a very carefully packed bag of flowering \nplants and some jars of root material for you to take back.' \nAristotle laughed. 'As if \nwe could run them over to the next village! \nI tell you, young scapegrace, it took us long enough to get here.' \n'It is a trouble to carry such stuff, but you will be sure to appreciate \nthe roots - and Theophrastos will be especially happy. Harpalos and \nI are going to work together to create great gardens in Babylon. \nTheophrastos must come to see them. And \n- I have brought you my \nbook. Boy' - to his slave - 'fetch me my box!' \n'Your book is finished?' I asked politely. \n'How can I finish when the story is going on?' Kallisthenes \nretorted. 'Of course it can't be finished at this point. I am to record \nall the deeds of Alexander, and Alexander isn't fmished with the \nPersians yet. I have written the beginning. Here it is!' \nKallisthenes took from the young slave's hands a box of nicely \npolished wood. 'It is all written out. I was able to get good copyists, no \nexpense spared. It needs revision of course, but it is readable. I have \nfound a new medium to write on - the inside of sheep's hide, scraped \nand dried. The army eats so many sheep, there is a constant supply.' \nAristotle looked at one of the stiff sheets covered with fme brown \n319 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nwntmg. 'It should last well,' he commented. 'The material seems \nstronger than papyrus, and not breakable like tablets. I wonder if the \nBabylonians found it out before? Durable, if \nnot as cohesive or handy \nas a roll.' \n'No matter,' said Kallisthenes. 'It will go into rolls when it is \nfinished. This material is cheap and ready to hand. Very good for \nmaps and illustrations. This is only the first part. As more events take \nplace, I write about them. So - I shall send you pieces now and then, \nuntil the whole is completed. Whenever that may be. But these first \nsections cover a great deal, including Tyre, Egypt, Issos. And \nGaugamela, the great victory. I also offer a clear record of places we \nwent through, the terrain, the plants and animals. I am keeping my \nown journal of such discoveries as those, not about Alexander but \nabout the places.' \n'Extremely valuable,' said Aristotle, taking up the book with loving \nhands. 'I shall treasure it always. Your philosophic writings, your \nnatural descriptions - these I long to see also. Be observant and \naccurate, like a good philosopher. Keep account of the peoples too. \nDescribe the Persian King's former subjects, their different tribes, \ntheir settlements and customs, just as you describe the animals and \nplants in their habitats.' \nAgain there was a noise outside the tent door, a most unexpected \nsound. Flutes! Delicate flutes, well played, astonishing in this \nbarbarian outpost. The graceful curls of sweet sound put an end to \nour conversation. Harpalos poked his head through the flap. \n'I promised you a treasure worth seeing,' he reminded us. 'Now \nyou shall see it!' \nWe were all standing facing him when Harpalos moved into the \ntent, slowly to the sound of \nglowing music, leading by the right hand \nanother person. A female. Ye gods, a beautiful female! \nThe woman who came in was slender but fmely modelled, with \nbeautiful breasts and long well-turned legs. I can say this because I \ncould see almost all of \nher. She wore a clinging tunic of \nfine Egyptian \n320 \n\n\nHARPALOS THE TREASURER \nlinen, and her bosom was covered only the filmiest of fabrics -\nsomething that shone and glowed. The lacing did not hide the beauty \nof \nthe little apples. The veil over her head was equally filmy, a sort of \nimmaterial idea of a veil, totally transparent. Even this delicate \nintegument was partly cast back from her face. She seemed a little \nembarrassed and a trifle amused also, perhaps dishevelled from just \nhaving been kissed. Her lovely face, unveiled to our view, showed a \ndelicate flush. The fluctuating rosy hue, like sunset light cast upon \nglowing marble, made her more interesting than the finest statue, \nhowever brilliantly painted. \n'There!' said Harpalos with pride. 'This is one of the wonders of \nthe world. Pure Greek - here in the middle of Asia. How I love \nAthenian art! This is my female companion, Pythonike of Athens. \nThese men' - he addressed her respectfully - 'are friends of mine, \nPythonike. The most reverend one is Aristotle, of whom you so oft \nhave heard, and that is his friend Stephanos of \nAthens.' \n'Greetings, gentlemen,' she said in a clear voice, her modesty not \nconfounded by speaking to strange men. \n'Yes, Pythonike is all mine, but she is used to meeting company,' \nsaid Harpalos. 'I do find so boring those proper women who cannot \neat and talk with one. Pythonike, now, she eats and converses. I adore \nher, and I think of her as Perikles did of his Aspasia. Boys!' He \naddressed the servants at the tent door. 'Let us eat. We are starving, \nI promise you!' \nThere followed a most unusual meal. Unusual not only in a \nwoman's being one of \nthe diners. The food was indeed the promised \nchicken, but cooked in a delicious manner with spices I do not \nrecollect having tasted before. I could hardly believe it was I who was \ndining on Eastern food, and in such fine state (for there were low \ntables and proper plates, as well as handsome wrought goblets). It \nwas I, being served by Persians while reclining on soft and colourful \nPersian stuffs and gazing at the most beautiful woman. It was like \nsome enchanting dream. \n321 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'Pythonike goes about with me everywhere,' Harpalos said. 'And \neveryone respects her. Even Alexander knows it's hands off.' \n'Our Commander,' Kallisthenes announced admiringly, 'is famous \nfor his temperance and self-control. For when he had Darius' wife \nand daughter and his concubines in his power, he treated them civilly \nand did not rape any of \nthem, even the servants. He has treated them \nas royal ladies, and put them in proper lodgings.' \n'Again, he displays magnanimity,' said Aristotle, with approbation. \n'This is how a man great of soul should behave.' \n'True,' said Harpalos. 'But the temptation was only moderate, \nafter all. Now, had Alexander been faced by a beautiful youth, the \ndown just coming on his cheeks, he would have more need of his \nvaunted self-control.' \n'But Alexander loves women too,' objected Kallisthenes. \n'Yes. Everything that is lovable our Commander loves, which is \nmost worthy of \nhim.' \n'I hope he is temperate,' Aristotle said in a worried tone. \n'There speaks the tutor. Look, he is no glutton. He told Queen \nAda to stop sending him sweetmeats and baked goods as if he were \na boy. His tutors, he said, had taught him that hunger was the best \nsauce and to eat sparingly. On the march, he shared all supplies with \nthe troops; the rougher the going, the more scrupulously he limited \nhimself to his men's own ration of food and water. Nowadays, 1 \nadmit, when he makes camp he is apt to enquire after the cooks and \nthe bakers, and he loves to sit long at splendid dinners with his wine, \ntalking of \nthis and that. Of \ncourse, he's not a lad of \ntwenty any more. \nAnd as for women - he ate up that gorgeous Persian woman, \nMemnon's widow, the lovely Barsinna, fast enough when she was set \nbefore him.' \n'And,' said Pythonike, 'the Commander now pays court in a \nrespectful but interesting way to the elder daughter of Darius. She \nmight be a queen yet if she plays her game well.' \n'True. But he is a man for men, and loves above all his dear \n322 \n\n\nHARPALOS THE TREASURER \nHephaistion, whom he calls his Patroklos, the dearest to him of the \nGood Companions.' \n'Hephaistion is also a fine general,' said Kallisthenes. 'It's \nexcellent that Alexander has so many young generals. They under-\nstand what he has in mind - and they possess great energy and \nfortitude. ' \n'That reminds me,' said Aristotle. 'I was sad to hear recently of \nthe \ndeath of \nArkhebios, the general Parmenion's son - a recognised son, \nthough born out of wedlock. Arkhebios was the father of one of our \nstudents at the Lykeion, a young Parmenion. Now, as this boy -\nalmost a young man - is a grandson of \nthe general, I thought the best \nthing we could do for this youth is to give him into the care of great \nParmenion. Or into the care of the boy's uncle, admirable Philotas, \ncommander of cavalry. But I do not know how to reach either of \nthem. Surely, Harpalos, you might help us.' \nKallisthenes looked grave, and put his goblet down. He and \nHarpalos looked at each other, and Harpalos set aside his plate. \n'You broach a difficult topic,' he said, pausing sufficiently to let us \nknow he chose his words with care. \n'Parmenion has grown old in the \nservice of the royal house of Makedon. A great general and a great \nman, undoubtedly. But we had best tell you frankly that he is under \na cloud, and it is unlikely that cloud will be lifted.' \n'I had some hint of this before,' said Aristotle. 'Hard to believe. \nWhat has gone wrong? Is there no remedy? I know great Parmenion \n- reliable and indefatigable. He always seemed the epitome of \nloyalty.' \n'Loyalty . . . Hmm. It is difficult to define what \"loyalty\" is in all \ncircumstances. If \nyou are loyal to a man it's either because of crude \nself-interest, or because you respect yourself as well as him. And if \nthis man behaves so as your loyalty and self-respect are in conflict? \nThen what? There are several factors in the fall of Parmenion from \ngrace. In the first instance, both he and your friend Antipater lost \ntheir places in the inner core of Alexander's heart when they urged \n323 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF UFE \nhim - too emphatically - to marry and beget an heir before taking off \nafter Darius.' \n'But why should he mind that?' I was genuinely surprised. 'It is \ngood advice. For a king to marry and leave an heir is good for him and \nfor the country he rules.' \n'Ah, yes. But that showed, you see, that Antipater and Parmenion \nwere capable of thinking of a Makedonian world without Alexander \nalive in it - and this our Commander doesn't like at all. He was - and \nis - still young, with the immortality of \nyouth. He takes great personal \nrisks, so that one would think he had a contempt of \ndeath, but in fact \nhe doesn't wish at all to imagine the world after his death.' \n'Well, that is a minor matter,' said Kallisthenes. 'Young men often \ndon't like old men jawing at them about marriage. And you see \nAntipater remains on quite good terms with Alexander.' \n'Yes -\nas long as Antipater stays in Greece and does what \nAlexander tells him. But now comes a graver reason for the \nCommander's displeasure against Parmenion. The general has \nspoken too frankly to Alexander of \nputting an end to these conquests, \nnow that Persepolis is taken.' \n'Parmenion thought the taking of Persepolis was the end of the \nwar! That once we killed off Darius we were all to stop, and go home \nfor supper, as it were,' interjected Kallisthenes. 'That's because \nParmenion's too old. He must be over seventy! He is physically a \nwonder, I grant you, for his age. But he is too old.' \n'That may be. Parmenion has certainly displayed to the Com-\nmander that he cannot share the Commander's view of the future. \nThat is a grave fault. The problem is the more serious as this man has \nundeniably given his life to Makedonian service, and so have his sons. \nAlexander has endeavoured to keep him fairly happy while demoting \nhim - which is what he has done in sending him to Ekbatana, to guard \nthe treasure. Two of Parmenion's legitimate sons are dead now, as \nwell as your bastard Arkhebios, but Philotas is still quite powerful.' \n'But it may be,' said Pythonike, unabashedly addressing a room of \n324 \n\n\nHARPALOS THE TREASURER \nmen, 'that Philotas will not hereafter be too friendly to Alexander. \nNow that his father has been tucked away as a mere caretaker of the \ntreasure in Ekbatana and is no longer an important general.' \n'Yes, we know what Philotas is like - a priggish man with a great \nconceit of \nhimself.' \n'He is not as priggish as you make him out,' said Pythonike. 'He \nhas sent for his beloved from Athens - a woman called Antigone -\nwho is travelling all the way to the veritable East to keep him \ncompany. Philotas is no youth by now: he must number some forty \nsummers. But that shows a certain amount of \nyouthful ardour.' \n'Antigone!' Aristotle was startled. 'I wonder if this is the same \nwoman - ? Well, well. Rather juvenile conduct on Philotas' part, \ncertainly. It would give a handle to detractors.' \n'Oh, come now,' said Harpalos. 'Be reasonable, Aristotle. This is a \nlong war! Not every man likes Persian ladies. And some of us fully \nvalue the beauty of Greece.' He smiled upon Pythonike. 'But this is \nnot the time to hand over any poor youth to the care of \nPhilotas.' \n'Harpalos is quite right,' said Kallisthenes. 'It would be putting the \nlad in harm's way. His father Arkhebios was picked out for a \ndangerous detail, with little chance of \nglory, live or die.' \n'And you see, he died,' said Pythonike, with a gentle smile. \n'Killed in one of \nthose mountain skirmishes - his body not brought \nback, either.' \n'I understand you, gentlemen,' said Aristotle, with a sigh. 'Though \nI do not know what to do with the boy. Perhaps things may take a \nhappier tum in the future. At present I shall simply tell the young man \nthat his grandfather and uncle are in remote and dangerous areas, \nand cannot wish him to come until things are more settled. I deeply \nregret that I cannot see Alexander myself. I hope he is not being \nunreasonable. \n' \n'You must watch your words!' Kallisthenes laughed. 'We don't talk \nof \nhim that way in the army, I do assure you. He is the bravest of \nthe \nbrave. Kingliest of kings. Fit to command all other men of war who \n325 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \never lived. Never has there been a general his equal. Philip may be \nsaid to have discovered a new art of war, the phalanx with sarissas \nbristling. But Alexander has perfected it. Our Commander also \ndiscovered a new method of beginning battles and sieges with \nmissiles, which rain destruction and confusion. He is invincible. \nThere is no man like him!' \n'Our Commander is fortunate in his historian,' said Harpalos, \nsmiling at Kallisthenes. 'Isn't it true that you were the one who said \nthat very pretty thing about the waves that subsided along the \nPamphylian coast near here? That they were like the Persians \nprostrating themselves in homage to Alexander! Very poetical. That \nprettiness took very well with our leader.' \n'Indeed,' said Kallisthenes, 'men in the future for many genera-\ntions will long to hear of Alexander and will tell stories and make \npoems about him. I am happily the first narrator of his exploits, the \none who is with him while history is being made. I see as it were, the \ngreat bronze statue while the metal is melted and poured and shaped \nand worked - I am in a position to supply the most appropriate and \npotent imagery, to create for readers of the far future the complete \nfeeling of the events and these occasions.' \n'It is given to few to live in such stirring times,' Aristotle said \npensively. 'The reconquest of the western regions of Asia is most \nheroic. We have liberated Ionia, Lydia, Karia. But it is only a \nbeginning. Now it is clear that in order to make the world safe and the \nGreek settlements secure, Alexander will take charge of \nmore of \nAsia. \nHe comes in the name and power of all the Greeks. Peaceful and \nprosperous cities, well governed and beautiful, will rise in these hills \nand along the great rivers. Hellenic civilisation will extend to the \nEuphrates and the Oxus.' \n'So I do believe,' said Kallisthenes. 'Alexander will make us safe for \never from attack from Persians, or from Assyrians or any other \nbarbarians. These crude peoples will change their nature, as our \nsettlements take root and their world is absorbed into ours. Then, \n326 \n\n\nHARPALOS THE TREASURER \nafter Egypt and Asia, we must also conquer Karthago and the \nPhoenician dominions. That was Alkibiades' plan in the Sikilian \nExpedition - which he was not allowed to complete. First take all of \nSikilia, then Karthago. A good idea, simply postponed.' \n'In the end,' Aristotle added, 'the arts of \npeace shall complete what \nwar began. Just as in the islands of the Aegean, as in Syrakousai and \nin Great Hellas of \nthe far western lands - so will all the known world \neventually be rendered civilised.' \n'You go so fast, you philosophers,' grumbled Harpalos good-\nhumouredly. 'You, 0 Aristotle - and Kallisthenes takes his vision \nfrom you - do not have to wield the sword. Just as easy for you to say \n\"conquer Karthago\" as for me to say \"Boy, fetch a cheese\"! Nor do \nyou have to pay for these expeditions. Really, you know, many Greeks \nin Asia - in Ionia, Lydia, Karia - were perfectly happy under the \nPersian Empire. Who asked to be liberated? Not they. In fact, at the \nbeginning of \nthe war, there were more Greeks fighting for Darius than \nfor Alexander - if you subtract Makedonians. After the defeat of \nIssos, many of the Greek soldiers in the Persian army fled to Krete, \nand there Agis of Sparta was able to raise his army to fight against \nAntipater, last spring. Some Greeks - in Asia, too - don't consider us \nMakedonians true Greeks, anyway. And, after all, these barbarian \nlands have some good in them.' He stretched luxuriously. 'For \ninstance, they have the most wonderful way of \nmaking drinks of \nsnow \nthat they collect and keep from the mountain tops - unimaginably \ndelicious in hot weather!' \n'True, I have tasted it,' agreed Kallisthenes. 'But such things a man \nwould disdain to call \"civilisation\". We need to illumine the path, not \nonly with law courts and cities but also with Greek knowledge and \nlearning.' \n'And now there will be fewer boundaries to learning,' Aristotle \nmused. 'Once the land is pacified and settled, Greek travellers and \nscholars shall be able to pass easily from one region to another, \neastward as far as one can imagine, and so to the southern lands also.' \n327 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'Yes,' agreed Kallisthenes. 'As we press on now into Persia proper \nand the other lands that Persia owned farther to the east, we discover \nmore about the earth, and more about plants and animals. We will be \nable to build up our knowledge, far beyond where it was before.' \n'You philosophers may well enjoy running after conies in the sand \nor trying to snatch buzzards in the high slopes.' Harpalos grinned. \n'That's not my idea of \npleasure. Do not forget the labour of \nconquest. \nIt was comparatively easy to take the western edge of \nAsia. It may be \nrelatively easy to hold down central Persia, with its great cities. But \nbeyond, there are many wild lands that the Persians themselves \nconquered with difficulty. Speaking so many languages, too, it's hard \nto tell them they are conquored! In the hill country, enemies - even \ntheir children - can lay down jagged objects on the few and narrow \nroads. We call them \"cavalry-stoppers\", and these can halt a troop of \nhorsemen. Horses in pain may throw themselves and their riders off \nprecipices. So many angry tribes on their mountain tops. They may \nnot have loved Persia, but they are not friendly towards us.' \n'We will train people to learn those languages,' asserted Kallisthenes. \n'I myself have found men among our troops who learn these languages \nwell enough to interrogate prisoners. That is one of the things the \nCommander put me in charge of - interrogations - as well as of \ncalculating and recording distances.' \n'I drink to the success of our Commander in seeing Darius to the \ntomb.' Harpalos suited his action to his words. 'But now the easy part \nis over. Bessus fled to the wilds of Baktria, where it is extremely \ndifficult to get at him. All sorts of princelings in rough mountain \ndistricts will pop up.' \n'Some will wish to avenge Darius,' said Pythonike. \n'Certainly. Unbelievably lucky for us that one of the natives killed \nthe Great King. What a piece of good fortune that has been!' \n'Alexander does seem born under a lucky star,' Pythonike \nobserved. \n'True,' said Harpalos. 'But are we under the same star? You forget, \n328 \n\n\nHARPALOS THE TREASURER \no Aristotle, that all this war-making is costly. It costs greatly. It costs \nmany lives. It swallows up many years, and great labour. It costs \nmoney, too.' \n'But making war against a rich empire yields profits,' Aristotle \nobjected. 'You captured all the wealth of Sardis - and then of Susa. \nAnd do you not have the treasure-store of Persepolis?' \n'We do. And we already have demands upon that wealth. People \nwho have waited for their money need to be paid. We have to payoff \nformer members of the infantry and cavalry. The Athenian cavalry \nwas practically useless, between ourselves, but that is by the way. \nThey still want silver in hand.' \n'The Athenian cavalry was most valuable as a token,' Kallisthenes \ncommented. 'To make everybody - including the Athenians - think \nthat the Athenians were heavily engaged in a pan-Hellenic war. We \nMakedonians do the best fighting.' \n'Not that we should say anything against Athens,' said Harpalos, \nobserving my frown. Mter all, I was the only Athenian present \n(discounting Pythonike). 'Where should we be without Athens -\nwithout its intelligence, skill and leadership through the years?' \nNobody answered this question. It occurred to me, to my chagrin, \nthat it might be ironic. \n'Our pleasant meal has nicely taken up the hot afternoon,' observed \nHarpalos. 'Now I wish to talk with Aristotle alone. Perhaps you, \nKallisthenes, will escort Pythonike outside to her waiting woman. \nYou might like a linle stroll along the cliffs, my dear? Kallisthenes, I \ncount on you to take care that no one listens to us. Move the men \naway from the tent, and see that all the servants are busy somewhere \nelse. Tell the boy to bring me a lamp and a brazier with live coals, and \nthen make sure he gets out of \nthe way.' \nPythonike obediently stood up, and Kallisthenes also. I likewise \narose upon this hint, but Aristotle beckoned me to stay. I sat down \nwhile the others left. \n'I can tell from your tone, Harpalos,' said Aristotle gravely, 'that \n329 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nyou are going to ask me to do something for you. As Stephanos is my \ntravelling companion, I would have to tell him in any case. It appears \nbest for you to tell both of \nus as much as you can.' \n'Hmmh,' said Harpalos. 'I cannot refuse myoId tutor. Though \nthere is one point, Aristotle, which I shall beg you to keep to yourself \nonly.' He turned to the servant entering the tent. 'Put the lamp there, \nboy. And the brazier on that table. Now light the lamp. And begone. \nClose the tent flap.' \nHe turned to us as we sat there on the cushions and beautiful stuffs. \nThe lamplight now fitfully illuminated the tent and cast a glow on the \nfabrics with their strange patterns. \n'It is about money, is it not?' Aristotle's deep-set eyes scanned \nHarpalos' face, though it was not easy to see in that flickering light. \n'Yes, indeed. About money. Look, Aristotle, I want you to take \nwith you some bags of gold for me. This transporting wealth around \nhas to be done delicately. I want you to take one bag to Kos. Do not \ntell Oromedon, but only the man whom I shall indicate to you. Then \ntake the other bag to Athens, and give it to citizen Phokion or his \nbrother. To no one else.' \n'Harpalos, you cannot be serious! You expect me to carry bags of \ngold about? Someone could steal them! And suppose anything were \nto happen to me? How could I take on this responsibility? We are not \ntravelling in great naval ships, you know. The journey back to \nPeiraieus is going to be arduous, in small boats -' \n'Do not worry.' Harpalos smiled magnificently. \n'We shall arrange a \nnaval transport for you to travel back from Kos to Peiraieus. And now \nthere will be a three-banked ship waiting for you at Halikarnassos \nharbour, to get you back to Kos. No expense spared, and everything \nthought of. You will not yourself have to pay a penny. Neither you \nnor your friend Stephanos here. Have you spent anything thus far?' \n'No,' Aristotle admitted, but without smiling. \n'Now, my dear tutor, is it fair of you to come all this way to meet \nme without doing for me what I need done? Really such a small \n330 \n\n\nHARPALOS THE TREASURER \nthing.' He laughed. 'I am not asking you to spend the money - I know \nyou philosophers have trouble with that. But I need to pay for goods \nand services, to sustain Alexander's credit. The gold has to be kept \nsecret - money must not fall into the wrong hands.' \nAristotle sighed resignedly. 'I can say nothing against that,' he \nremarked. 'And I dare say you mean that I should be discreet in giving \nthe money to the men in question. If \nthat is all, it can be done.' \n'Discreet - exactly! And there are so few men who are trustworthy \nlike yourself, my dear philosopher. The world is so full of \nthieves! You \nare a ruby among pebbles. Discretion is what I count upon. Today I \nshall give you the two bags of \ngold to deliver. But that is not quite all.' \n'No?' \n'I need you to go to another place, a particular spot. Go there in a \nsmall private vessel after you have arrived back in Kos. In a moment \nI shall write down the direction and draw a map. For your eyes only. \nIn a hiding place, not too far from Halikamassos, I have secreted a \nlittle store of money and other treasure. I want you to remove -\ndiscreetly - these treasures and money from that place of deposit. \nTake all of that with you to Athens and give it to ... \nto a particular \nindividual whose name I shall write down for your eyes alone.' \nI felt greatly dismayed, and I think Aristotle did too. \n'That is much more complicated,' he protested. \n'True. That is why we - Alexander and I and the rest of \nthe Good \nCompanions - count on you, 0 Aristotle. You see how well your \nnephew is getting on. You must wish to forward his promising career. \nI trust you. And you, with your strength of \nintellect, will already have \nperceived that it is not only Persians whom we cannot trust. This \nwealth must fall only into the right hands.' \nHarpalos opened a cloth bag and took out a thin fragment of \nmaterial. 'This is a kind of \nbark that is strong enough for one to write \non,' he commented. He took up a pin and wrote quickly, scratching \ninto the bark. 'Come Aristotle! Here are the names - one Koan, one \nAthenian. And a little map. You know the geography of the coast \n331 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nwell: an advantage. Can you make it out?' Aristotle went over to the \nlighted lamp, and the two bent over the piece of bark. \n'Can you commit that to memory? Absolutely? Do you know where \nto look?' \n'Yes.' \n'Look at it one more time. Now I destroy it. There! It is gone!' \nHarpalos lit the bark with the flame of the lamp, letting it sizzle and \nsmoke on the brazier until it was nothing but an ashen fragment. I had \nhopes of \nsnatching a glance, for I have often observed that marks can \nsurvive burning, but Harpalos stirred the ashes into tiny particles of \ndust. \n'This is a great boon,' Harpalos said joyfully, this ceremony being \naccomplished. 'A great relief. There is nothing I will not do to repay \nyou. I task myself \nwith doing something handsome the next time I see \nyou - perhaps in Babylon.' \nThis was evidently a farewell of sorts. Alexander's Treasurer \nhimself held open the tent flap for us (as the servants had been sent \naway) and we all three left his tent, where we had enjoyed such a \nhappy dinner. Less carefree than during the little feast, we walked \noutside. The sun was low in the sky now, the shadows were \nlengthening, and the sea was a deep and silent purple. \n332 \n\n\nXIX \n==~9_~P== \na-G \nCarrying \nTreasure \nThat night Aristotle and I slept with Peleus and Diophantos and the \nrest in the shed that Harpalos had so disdained. Harpalos and \nPythonike shared the white tent and its cushions. Laughter and \nkissing (and other noises) emanated from the tent. I had to grit my \nteeth. It was a long time since I had had a woman. And I doubted I \nshould ever have one like Pythonike. \nIn the morning we had to get off. Kallisthenes lovingly entrusted \nhis book to us. \n'Be careful in handling it,' he enjoined. 'The parchment is firm and \nreliable, but the ink is only cuttlefish and it would wash off if the \nmanuscript gets wet. Wrap materials around the box and keep it in \nthe very driest part of any ship.' \nAristotle promised, and went off to find a place for this new \ntreasure, which I could see he valued above the bags of gold that \nHarpalos surreptitiously gave him. These bags were not as con-\nspicuous as they sound, of very plain leather, and scuffed, with \nwoollen material bulging out of them as if they were merely con-\ntainers of \nwarm clothing and fleeces. \nHaving a momentary opportunity to talk alone with Aristotle's \nnephew, I put it to use. \n333 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'You know a good deal about manuscripts and books,' I remarked \nto Kallisthenes. \n'Do you use wax tablets?' \n'Who would be without them? We have quantities in our baggage \ntrain. I take a little pile with me each day, so I can jot down notes \nduring Alexander's excursions. To capture how things looked and \nwhat the Commander said. But anything of \nthe sort has to be copied \nquickly into some firmer medium.' \n'Tell me,' I said. 'You work at catching spies, and you know about \nwritings. Would it be possible to fake part of \na letter on a wax tablet?' \n'Yes, indeed!' he answered before I could finish. 'Tablets are \nfamous vehicles for forgeries -\nletters of all kinds convey mis-\ninformation in various ways. You remember the story Herodotos tells \nof the secret message hidden in a letter sent in tablets? The man in \nAsia who warned Sparta of the coming invasion of the Persians, in a \nletter that seemed perfectly ordinary. Until the woman Gorgo \nguessed the secret and bade them look under the wax, where they \nfound the warning inscribed on the wood itself.' \n'But suppose - would it be possible to falsify just part of \na letter on \na waxed tablet? Leaving the original salutation, say, and first line, and \nthen inserting another message?' \n'Certainly. As you are Aristotle's friend, I won't ask why you want \nto forge an epistle. It would take some trouble and skill, but with a hot \nbar of \nmetal, held by some kind of \nhandle, you could melt the wax on \nthe lower half of the page without injuring the top. It would have to \nbe done quickly and accurately. Then, wait for the wax to cool and \nyou can insert your own statements without losing the original lines \nat the top of \nthe page.' \n'Perhaps I had better show you,' I said. 'I have received a strange \nletter.' \nI called to the slave Menestor to bring my own bag, and he did \nso at once. My relatively few possessions were all there - all save \nTheodoros'letter. \n'It may have been put somewhere else.' Worried, I asked Aristotle \n334 \n\n\nCARR~GTREASURE \nto see ifTheodoros' letter were in his bag, but no. \n'Must have fallen out on the journey,' suggested Menestor. \n'Yes,' said Diophantos. 'We went down some very steep paths, \ncould have been jolted.' \n'It's not important,' I said, embarrassed at the attention the matter \nwas attracting. 'I just wanted to refer to something in my brother's \nletter. That's all. Doubtless it is lost, as you say.' \n'Perhaps it will tum up somewhere,' said Peleus, in the usual \nuninterested way in which people bear the losses of others. I \ndetermined to say nothing more of \nthe matter. \nMeanwhile Aristotle had his farewells to say to Kallisthenes. He \nspoke in a low tone, but so earnestly I could not help overhearing. \n'I feel sad to leave you. And I am worried - perhaps unduly - by \nsome things you have said. That flattering remark to the Commander \nabout the waves prostrating themselves - it bothers me. If \nyou flatter \na king too well to begin with, you can never go back. Anything less \nthan hyperbole will seem like criticism.' \n'Oh, don't worry. It was rather a joke, you know - the Persians are \nso ridiculous, prostrating themselves to the great man. Figure of \nspeech. The Commander knows poetry when he hears it.' \n'But does he? Alexander values the Iliad as a record of fact and a \nmodel of conduct. Moreover, he takes himself for Akhilleus. \nRemember, Kallisthenes, he is a king. And I know him from a boy. \nHe is full of charm - he bewitches all who come near. And he seems \n- nay, he is - so good-humoured and generous. But he may love in \nthe waning moon what he despises at the full. Don't rely on him. He \nis given to fits of \nrage.' \n'Don't be so anxious, uncle.' Kallisthenes patted his elder relative's \narm reassuringly. 'I can take care of \nmyself. And since I have travelled \nwith Alexander for two years now or more, I know him very well. He's \nnot a boy any longer. Cheer up! After a year or two more of my \nexcursions in Asia, I shall come back to Athens and publish my \nhistory to the world. Alexander will be so pleased he will doubtless \n335 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \naward me a pension! Then you'll see me back in the Lykeion. 1 can \nhelp you and Theophrastos with your giant plan of collecting all the \nplants and animals that ever were or can be.' \nWith a laugh, Kallisthenes sprang to his horse. Pythonike, with a \ndemure wave, got into her wagon with her attendant and was seen by \nus no more. Harpalos, preparing to mount his perfect white horse, \nembraced Aristotle. \n'A pleasure to talk with you once more, my tutor,' he said. 'You will \nbe hearing from me, of course, and 1 expect to hear from you. And \nfrom Theophrastos - perhaps he will come to Babylon and help with \nmy gardens. You don't know, 0 Aristotle, how much you mean to me \n- as well as to Alexander. The way of reason - we shall all pursue it! \nAnd perhaps we can spread some of the civilisation and laws you so \nvalue.' \nHe leaped on to his horse and set off at the head of his party. His \ngroup had attached the sarissas and the helmets we had been trans-\nporting, and one of the carts. Our party, led by Peleus with \nDiophantos as second-in-command, now had in their train only one \nlarge cart drawn by mules, half full of rugs and tapestries in the \nPersian style. We set off, much less dramatically than Harpalos' \nentourage. \n'I was very glad to meet Kallisthenes,' 1 said to cheer Aristotle up \nas we marched along. 'I know everybody must have told you this for \nyears, but he is very striking in looks, and in bearing. And so markedly \nintelligent. \n' \n'Yes,' said Aristotle. 'He is my beautiful sister's son. 1 think he is \nlike my father in intellect, and a little like him in disposition.' \n1 chewed on this for a while. Something about this statement \npuzzled me. \n'Aristotle,' 1 said, 'Kallisthenes is your sister's son. Now, you know \nyou have said in your lectures and written in books that the child is all \nthe father's, with nothing of the mother in its essential nature. The \nchild belongs completely to the father. So your nephew Kallisthenes \n336 \n\n\nCARRYING TREASURE \nmust be like his father, your sister's husband, and that man's father, \nand so on. He cannot resemble your own father Nikiarkhos at all! \nAnd it follows that he cannot be like you, either.' \nAristotle seemed displeased at my observation, though it was both \nscientific and logical. \n'I never said the mother contributed nothing,' he said defensively. \n'Obviously, the quality of \nthe mother's flesh and blood affects that of \nthe child, and her milk nourishes it. And there is something in \ninfluence - the things the mother looks at while pregnant, the way she \nteaches the baby -' \n'But that isn't the main matter, is it?' I persisted. 'The child inherits \nnone of its qualities from the mother, so you say. If I have a child, it \nwill be all mine. It will take after my family and not its mother's.' I was \nthinking I would not care to have my poor son looking like Smikrenes. \n'Oh, don't bother me,' said Aristotle, really quite cross. He drew \nme apart from the marching band. 'Cannot you see,' he said in a low \ntone, 'that I am quite worried. I am trying to work out what has just \nhappened.' \n'What happened?' \n'It was no accident, I think, that we didn't meet Harpalos in \nPhaselis as was planned - or was said to be planned. Better for him to \nmeet us in that out-of-the-way comer of the world, where he could \nhave everything his own way, and shake off the people who might \ninterfere or distract us - or overhear. Harpalos isn't the sort of \nperson \nwho lets things happen accidentally. He bribed me to come with the \npromise of meeting Kallisthenes. We meet in a wilderness. Harpalos \ntells us disturbing news, he makes me worry about my nephew, and \nthen he asks me to do something very awkward - perhaps dangerous. \nA secret errand along the coast of \nAsia.' \n'Never mind,' I said consolingly. 'We shall be taken back first to \nKos. From there you can set out on your errand and do it quickly. \nAfter that, we can go back to Athens on a real naval vessel - a fast \nship.' \n337 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nI myself was cheered at the thought that this time I was facing the \nright way. Every step I now took was taking me westward, towards \nKos and then home. \nWe arrived in Phaselis, where Peleus said we had better stop for the \nnight at the guard post and prepare for a really long journey next day. \n'I find I have to go into the city to get further orders,' he informed us \nwith his usual frank courtesy. \n'It looks as if! shall be your escort,' he continued. 'We should get \nto the coast without mishap. I'll put you on a three- or five-banked \nwarship in Halikarnassos. The weather is still fine, you ought to get \nswiftly back to Kos. See you tomorrow,' Peleus added in pleasant \nfarewell, as he strode away to get his orders at the central military \noffices near the governor's mansion. \nThe remaining soldiers gave us a bed-space in their quarters by the \nguard post, and we were up betimes. The Theban servant Menestor \narrived early; ever willing to help, he assisted us in getting all our \nbelongings well stowed. We now had a good deal to keep account of! \nThere was a large rough homespun bag full of earth and roots that \nKallisthenes had given us, and two earthenware pots with some kinds \nof \nbulbs or root material in them. There was the sacred wooden box \nwith his manuscript History. And Aristotle had to worry about the two \nbags of 'clothes' that were really bags of gold, the coins and bricks \nwrapped up in fine wool so they wouldn't chink. (I knew because we \nhad checked the bags privately ourselves.) \nI looked forward to seeing Peleus again this morning. An efficient \nand pleasant man, I thought, remembering how cleverly and really \nquickly he had brought us such a distance on our earlier eastern \njourney. Peleus, well organised in his thought and actions, would get \nus to Kos with a minimum of trouble. \nWe were standing ready, waiting for him, when Diophantos came \nup and said, 'It seems I am your captain and guide for the rest of \nthis \nexpedition. \n' \n'But where is Peleus?' I asked, letting my disappointment show. \n338 \n\n\nCARRYING TREASURE \n'He has an assignment elsewhere. I dare say he told you that was a \npossibility. ' \n'Yes,' I had to agree. 'He warned us before, we might go back with \nsomebody else.' \n'Well, I am the captain Somebody-else. And we have a few more \ngoods for the load. Changing from a cart to a light wagon. Ready in \na moment. Come on men. Stow all goods!' \nThe soldiers began hastily to take out of \nthe cart all our other cargo, \nincluding the bags of \nwoolly gold and Kallisthenes' box, and started \nto put them on board the light wagon. Meanwhile, two porters who \nhad brought things in another mule cart approached our larger \nvehicle. When their turn came, the first thing these servants did was \nto disarrange all our packing to make room for the stuffs they had. \nThe chief \nobject of \ntheir care was a very large carpet or tapestry rolled \naround some blankets. When they had made a suitable space for this, \nthey carried it between them, one man at each end, to our wagon and \nlaid it near the bottom. Then they placed on top of this tube of \nmaterial many new packages, and heaps of stuffs and cushions. We \nhad to rescue our own things and find crannies again in this now-\ncrowded wagon for our rootstocks and the precious manuscript and \nthe bags of 'woollen clothes'. To our dismay, the two porters added \nat the very top of the pile a pungent horsehide. \n'That won't come to harm,' they said. 'It protects the rest against \nrain.' Looking at this ugly object, Theban Menestor drily agreed. 'No \n- such things don't come to harm.' \nAbout the wagon there was a scent of resin in the air, not \nunpleasant, some sort of \ntreatment of \nthe Persian fabrics, I supposed. \nIt was in combat with the odour of stale sweat and withering horse-\nmeat. The hide was unmistakably still in the shape of \nhorse, rendered \nflat instead of being a solid body. 'It's like the poor ox-hide at the \nBouphonia,' I remarked to Aristotle. 'Except it's not stuffed.' \n'Hooves and all,' Aristotle agreed, wrinkling his nose. 'Not \nsufficiently cured.' \n339 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF liFE \nWe set off with our new wagon, drawn by straining mules, and \ncontinued our march up a winding craggy path. The days were \nshorter now. I thought longingly of long sunny days when we had \nbeen travelling in our pretty little boat among the Kyklades. Now we \nwere covered in dust and pestered by flies. \n'That horsehide!' said the Theban slave disdainfully. 'It attracts the \nflies so. How it stinks! Who could want such a thing?' \n'Well, there you are,' said one of the soldiers. 'We were told some \ngeneral or someone had lost his horse in the battle and wanted its hide\" \nand hooves shipped home as a memento. Funny thing, isn't it? The \nhorse coming back - when so many brave men don't come back to be \nburied, not so much as the skin or nails of \nthem.' \nNothing much of note happened on the journey, save that one of \nthe men sprained his ankle. Aristotle ran into trouble with his sandal \nand requested a stout cobbler's needle, saying he would repair his \nown footwear himself, and could do so by moonlight. I was surprised \nat his demeaning himself to this humble task, but the men were tired \nand had enough to do. \nWe were all glad to come to the River Xanthos, to be pulled along \nin barges by stout oxen on the riverbank. The men amused them-\nselves in the shade with stories and gambling games, and enjoyed \nbeing off their feet. Disembarking from the flat boats, we struggled \ninto marching order again, on a road that seemed always uphill. But \nat last it was clear we were near to Halikarnassos. Then from a hilltop \nI saw below the crescent of harbour that would give us a ship \nhomeward. At last I could leave this weary march and the abominable \nhorsehide whose stench seemed to gain remarkably in volume. \n'I just hope the stinking thing doesn't affect the manuscript,' I \nwhispered to Aristotle. 'I should not like it to smell of dead horse -\nthough I suppose the pages are made of dead sheep.' \n'No, I thought of that,' he said. 'I soaked some stout cloths in \nvinegar and spices a while back and wrapped it around Kallisthenes' \nbox.' \n340 \n\n\nCARRYING TREASURE \nWe found the harbour area of Halikarnassos agreeably full, \ncrowded with sailors as well as with petty merchants, vegetable \nsellers, and the inevitable crowd of pitiful beggars. Passengers were \ngoing and coming, including three men in white, who stood together \nnear the ships as if expecting something. \n'Here we shall enquire about your warship,' said Diophantos \nbriskly. 'I wonder which it is.' He put his hand over his eyes and \nscanned the harbour. 'I am afraid,' he remarked, 'that 1 do not see any \nbig naval vessel here. But 1 shall make enquiries at once of \nthe soldiers \nand the boatmen.' Diophantos plunged into the crowd. He was back \nagain soon, looking crestfallen. \n'It is too bad!' he cried. 'There is no ship of \nthe sort here now - the \nnaval vessel left yesterday and another is not expected for some days. \nBut this is vexing! 1 promised to have you taken to Kos as smartly as \npossible.' \n'Yes,' 1 agreed, straining my eyes to look towards Kos. \n'Well, sirs, good morning!' a familiar voice greeted us. \n'Nikias!' 1 recollected this man with the kindly broad smile and \nweatherbeaten features. Our second captain, the one who had \nrescued us when we were at a loss in the port ofNaxos. \"Nikias, how \ndo you do? What a strange thing, running into you like this.' \n'A surprise, maybe. But not really so strange. This is a fine harbour, \nand almost everyone hereabouts uses it. Were you dissatisfied with \nKos, then? 1 took you there, remember. And that other family - they \ncame over here looking for a better air for their child. But they have \nhad enough of it, and they're ready to go back to Kos.' \nAnd there was that little family again. 1 remembered suddenly my \nfirst glimpse of them at the harbour at Sounion: the old man \nHermippos, so respectable, the stolid veiled mother, the little wheezy \ngirl Philokleia who was so much better at sea. \nAristotle and 1 uttered our greetings. 'The last time we really spoke \nwith you,' Aristotle said, 'was when we listened in the orchard to the \ngood doctor latrokles' tale of \nthe Hungry Prince.' \n341 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'That was a good day,' said the grandfather. 'But we got tired of \nthe \nlodgings and the beggars around Kos harbour, so we took a turn in \nPatmos. That didn't answer. So we took another tum at sea for the \nsea air. Didn't even bring our servant this time, she has a sickness in \nher stomach. We came on this short journey to see Halikarnassos. But \nit is a rather sad place, isn't it?' \n'This city was all knocked down and burned,' said the child \nearnestly. \n'Too true!' said Nikias. 'And so you see, they are anxious to go \nback to Kos. And some pilgrims to Asklepios was likewise minded to \ncross over.' He nodded at the three men waiting by their bundles. I \ncould see now that one fellow, leaning on the arm of \nhis friend, looked \ndecidedly feverish, and the third man was crippled. 'They need to go \nto Kos for their health. I regret, we're already spoken for. And you \nseem to have a deal of \nbaggage.' He looked at the soldiers unloading \nour wagon. 'But we could come back and collect you, gentlemen. \nThough we have a short crew today.' \n'No,' said Diophantos firmly. 'We can commandeer the boat, by \nthe authority of \nthe army. I must inform you, Koan captain, that you \nare compelled to take these men back to Kos without delay.' \n'Why should we not wait for another ship - an official one?' asked \nAristotle. He drew Diophantos aside and explained in a low tone, \n'When I sailed with this man before, I was not at all sure that he \nwasn't a pirate.' \n'Oh,' said Diophantos impatiently, 'some of these islanders mis-\nbehave a little, but not when they have the army's eye up on them. \nAnd he did take you safely before, did he not? His is a good swift ship. \nAlexander's army grants you a right to this or any other seaworthy \ncraft that we command to take you. Sorry about the want of \na trireme. \nBut - no point lingering about in Halikarnassos when we promised \nimmediate passage to Kos.' \n'But-' \n'No fear - the army warrants your safety throughout. Man -' \n342 \n\n\nCARRYING TREASURE \nturning to Nikias - 'you are commanded to take these two gentlemen \nback to Kos. As for these other civilians, clodhoppers they seem, let \nthem wait. This counts as official business. Army orders. As from the \nCommander.' \n'Will your Commander be able to pay for a trip? That's the \nquestion!' Nikias expostulated. '1 ain't in the army, nor the official \nnavy! Just a humble boatman, trying to make a living. Me and my \nrowers, we don't work for the good of our health alone.' \n'No impudence, fellow! We pay what is reasonable. These others \nwill have to wait.' Diophantos looked scornfully at the little family \nand the two pilgrims. \n'No!' said the grandfather. 'We already made the arrangement!' \nLittle Philokleia asked reasonably, 'Why cannot we all go?' \n'These are important personages,' said Diophantos, waving towards \nus. 'They have their mission. No reason they should be asked to mix \nwith who knows what sort of common people.' \n'But,' said the Theban slave Menestor hesitantly, 'it is such a short \ntrip - and would the boat not balance better with a number?' \n'Possibly,' said Diophantos grudgingly. 'But officials don't have to \ntravel with civilians and riff-raff. We also have cargo to stow. If \nthese \nother folk are carrying a lot of their own baggage, it is out of the \nquestion.' He looked hard at Nikias. \n'1 see,' said Nikias, shrugging, 'Fortune is against me, and 1 yield. \nNo, these others do not have much baggage to take aboard. Very well. \nYou see how it is, folks.' He turned to the family from Laurion and \nthe three nameless pilgrims, as they all stood there looking hopeful. \n'You can come or stay as you will, but 1 am compelled to take these \npersons to Kos.' \n'And you can take all this baggage also, as far as Kos,' said \nDiophantos decidedly. He and Menestor led the soldiers and the \nother slaves in unloading the wagon and putting most of \nthe contents \ninto the hold of the Nike. The contents included the tube of carpet, \nthe many fine cushions and so on. 1 wondered whether these were just \n343 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \npersonal mementoes, booty attached by individual soldiers during the \nconquest and now being sent back home, or whether somebody in the \narmy hoped to make a profit by selling a lot of such stuff. \nNikias' sailors rushed up to help - both to see that the boat was \nproperly loaded and to receive some reward for their pains, 1 guessed. \nSome of the idlers and beggars at the seafront tried to put in their \nclaim by offering feeble assistance, their hands held out for obols all \nthe while. The crippled and maimed promised to work for us, and \nuttered appeals. The tall blind man whom 1 had noticed last time, the \none with the terrible skin condition, uttered a low wail, and offered \nand asked for nothing. 'I saw him before,' 1 said, nodding in the \ndirection of this poor creature. 'Too bad. 1 suppose he lost his sight \nin the war.' \n'Oh, that fellow, he's surely crazy too,' volunteered one of the \nragged crew of \nharbour rats trying to aid us. Menestor chimed in: 'He \nseems lunatic - leave him alone.' Certainly the blind man kept up a \nlow muttering the way crazy people do, mixed with little moans. It \nseemed too bad that no one offered him ointment for his sores; 1 \nthrew him a hemi-obol anyway. \nAristotle had wandered off while the men were busy loading the \nvessel, and disappeared into one of \nthe little food shops. 1 was amused \nthat even he could not resist the lure of \nthe fleshpots. Meanwhile, the \nmen busy at the loading complained vociferously about the stench of \nthe horsehide. Some people on neighbouring boats made pointed \nremarks about our personal cleanliness. 1 myself was heartily sorry \nthat we were going to return to Kos in company with the stinking \nhide. By the time Aristotle came back, wiping his mouth in a \nmeditative manner, those around us were uttering strong hints that \nwe should be gone with all possible speed. The feverish pilgrim \nappeared deeply impressed, not to say knocked out, by the smell; he \nand his companion decided not to go on our boat after all. \n'Whyn't you take another boat, friend, too, as the stink is so \ntroublesome?' Nikias said to the crippled man. But this determined \n344 \n\n\nCARRYING TREASURE \npilgrim only murmured, 'I must get to Kos and see Asklepios!' He sat \nhimself in the boat, uncomplaining. \n'You folk are going to mind the smell, too,' said Nikias to the little \nfamily. But having got on board, they were reluctant to move. \n'What happens to that hide once we get to Kos?' I asked. \n'You'll be rid of it soon,' said Diophantos, looking ruefully at the \ndark and redolent remains. 'Officers at Kos will take it from you and \nsend it on to the horse's owner. It will be only a short trip with this \nminor discomfort. I shall send this Theban slave to look after you,' he \nadded, abruptly pushing Menestor into the boat. 'Farewell!' \n'If \nyou are a Theban,' Aristotle said conversationally, 'Menestor is \nan odd name. If \nit really is your name.' \n'I am a Theban,' the youth replied steadily. 'I was captured when I \nwas eleven years old. Menestor is the name I go by.' \nI knew that Aristotle was not reconciled to the idea of \nenslaving free \nmen, or children who should have grown up to be free. The scandal \nof the Greeks made into captives in Alexander's wars had induced \nAthens' chief political leader Lykourgos, just a few months ago, to \nmake a law that no Athenian was to buy an enslaved person from one \nof the defeated Greek cities. Hearing about dead Thebes made me \nuncomfortable. It was almost a matter ofluck that on the terrible day \nwhen Alexander's men captured the city, my cousin Philemon's wife \nhad escaped from Thebes, and had thus also escaped being sold into \nslavery. \nOur craft moved away from the harbour and into the deeper water. \nThere were only twelve men rowing, but they were rowing hard. It \nwas a lovely day, with just a light breeze to help the sail, and the water \nwas beautifully still. I began to think about my future brother-in-law, \nand whether he had returned to Kos with his disreputable woman. I \nshould have to look for him as soon as I got back. But - Kos wasn't \ngrowing any closer. Aristotle noticed this too. \n'Why aren't we drawing closer to Kos?' \n'We have to bear to the other side of \nthe island,' Nikias said easily. \n345 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'A bad current that we need to avoid. 'Twill take us a bit longer, that's \nall.' \nWe accepted this for a long time, until we really saw that Kos was \ngrowing smaller in the distance, and turning an unfamiliar shape. \n'What do you mean by this?' we asked in alarm. \n'Make yourselves easy,' said Nikias. 'There is a weakness in two of \nthe oars, and in the oar-holes, which have worn too large. We cannot \npull as we should. We are just coming into an islet where we can make \nall right again.' \nIt was a very small and sandy islet, from which Kos was barely \nvisible, partly because of other small isles in the way. The place \nseemed not too distant from the Asian mainland. \n'We will have to get rid of this stinking thing, too,' said Nikias \nfirmly. 'It is making the rowers ill.' He heard no objections from us-\nthe thing had been making me feel ill as well. And the little girl, pale \nPhilokleia, had thrown up once over the side. \n'Get to it, men,' said Nikias. 'Get rid of whatever we don't need \nbefore we go ashore. Fetch some old ballast stones and anchors.' \n'Right,' said the most active of \nthe rowing men. He and the young \nrower opposite him, the one whom Nikias once addressed as \n'monkey', rose and dived off the back of the boat. Soon they were \nwading about in the shallows, by a beach on which two other craft \nwere already resting. The industrious sailors collected a pile of \nweights, round stones like old anchors and pieces of rough marble. \nThese the 'monkey' dragged to in a net and handed up to the others. \nThe pair neatly hoisted themselves back aboard over the side of the \nship, dripping lightly on the cushions and fine stuffs. \n'Now,' said Nikias, 'before we land - get rid of this big stinking \nthing.' \n'Yes,' said the Theban slave Menestor, jumping up to assist, 'we \ncan be thankful that we need it no more.' \nHe helped to unfurl the horrible hide, and the sailor men filled the \nmiddle of \nthe horse's discarded skin with the round stones. Philokleia \n346 \n\n\nCARRYING TREASURE \nand even Aristotle turned slightly paler as the stench met us in full \nforce. None too soon, the men dropped the oddly shaped thing so \nweighted into the water. We all watched. Slowly and lazily but \ninevitably it sank, one side a trifle faster than the other. \n'That horse rides no more,' said the Theban with a laugh. 'It has \nrun its course and served its turn.' \n'Right,' said Nikias. 'Now, take heed of that long carpet, men - it \nneeds special care.' The men grubbed down deep into the boat, \ndislodging all the baggage, so that we cried out in alarm. Aristotle \nmade a leap for the manuscript box of Kallisthenes, and the \nrootstock. I grabbed the woolly bags of gold and a bulb pot, while \nHermippos' party saved their clothes. The seedy-looking pilgrim \nseemed not to have anything worth saving. Soon two ofNikias' men, \naided by the agile Menestor, had taken a firm grip on the long round \ncarpet roll, and were moving this so that it lay on the top of \neverything \nelse, a colourful tube. There was still a very bad smell, as if the horse \nwere still with us, but also the faint resinous odour. We were puzzled. \n'By Herakles! What an uncalled-for stench!' cried one of \nthe two men \nwho had hauled up the thick fabric roll. 'What's in here?' \nThe two men began to unwind the roll. 'Stop!' cried Nikias, \nrunning awkwardly along the top of \nthe vessel and its contents. 'Stop! \nYou'll damage it!' He slapped one of the two sailors a great clout \nacross the face. But before they had quite desisted, little Philokleia, \npeering into the tube from her lower vantage point, was the first of \nour party to find out the truth. \n'There's a man in there!' \n'Well, yes and no,' said someone ruefully. The other sailors were \nalready unrolling, first the rug and then within it a roll of ordinary \nblankets - and then we could see that indeed there was a man. Peleus. \nPeleus wizened and blackened, as a man will be who has been dead \nfor many days in hot weather. Peleus, who must have been dead since \nbefore we left Phaselis \n'When is a man not a man?' asked Menestor. 'When he's a corpse.' \n347 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'This is terrible!' exclaimed Nikias. 'Someone has played us a trick. \nHowever did this thing get here on my nice clean ship? Really, I am \nsurprised - I am shocked!' He glowered at his men. 'We will find out \nmore later about this here shocking affair. I suspect that Theban! But \nmeanwhile, this thing won't keep, no more than the horse. Sorry - but \nnecessity presses us.' \n'You should've stopped it from stinking,' said one of \nthe sailors to \nMenestor. \n'Hot weather. We tried to reduce the stench,' explained Menestor. \n'We covered the corpse with a mixture of vinegar with a little honey \nand a lot of \nresin. The Egyptians know how to preserve corpses for all \ntime. But we're no Egyptians!' \n'Certainly you are not,' said the seaman with disfavour, holding his \nnose. 'The horsehide was of \nuse to cover up the other stink, then?' \nThe older sailors were wrestling distastefully with the body, while \na couple of \nrowers took our craft out a bit further into the little bay. \n'Weight it with a couple of stones,' advised Nikias.' Not just to his \nfeet - his feet may not last. He'll be so yeasty he may bob up again.' \nQuickly the men tied the stones to the feet and hands of \nthe cadaver \nof \nthe thrice-unfortunate Peleus: betrayed - then killed - now denied \nproper burial. Elbowing us out of \nthe way, the men did their dire task, \nwithout putting a kindly coin in the mouth of \nthe departed. Standing \nup and counting as in a keleusma, they flipped the dark and sticky \nbody of Peleus into the water, stone-weighted feet first. There was a \nloud splash. Peleus made a hole in the sea. Through the clear water \nwe could see his face one last time as it submerged. \n'Well, now, that's a good deed done,' said Nikias.' You must all \nwitness that this was a matter of \nreasonable public health. Have to get \nrid of stinking corpses. I am not responsible for bad cargo sent \naboard. And now we can make for land. Beach it, men! Welcome to \nmy island!' \n348 \n\n\nxx \n==::::;:9_P~= \nd-G\" \nThe Killing Island \n'Welcome to this little island,' repeated Nikias, once the Nike's prow \nwas fast in the sand. 'Look lively! You must all get off \nthis vessel while \nwe repair it. Yes, take your precious luggage with you. We may be \nhere for some while.' \nWe had to dig for our own bundles; the sailors were in no hurry to \nhelp us. \nThey were more concerned with removing all oars from the \nships. The Laurion family, alarmed, searched hurriedly for anything \nthe little girl might need. Only the seedy pilgrim, who had scanty \npersonal possessions, seemed unperturbed. I made sure to take the \nbag of \nplants and the pots of \nroots. Aristotle disembarked awkwardly \nas he was taking particular care of the manuscript and the woolly \nbags. \n'Ho, old man, do you think you can use those bags of old clothes \nas bladders to float you in the sea?' one of the sailors asked in mock \nconcern. \n'Not much good for that,' said the Theban slave, joining in the \nlaughter. \n'Sir,' said Aristotle to Nikias, 'we need to conduct an enquiry into \nthe death of the captain Peleus. How his corpse - apparently with \n349 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF UFE \nsome attempt at embalming or mummifying by this Theban here -\ncame on our ship -' \n'Oh, it's ill doing with a dead man. And this ain't Athens, my good \nfriend. 1 don't see no Areopagos hereabouts. Better let things pass for \na while. Make yourselves comfortable.' \nWe stood bemused on the sandy islet, clutching our goods and \ngazing about us at the three beached ships, the scrubby thorn trees, \nthe signs of camp fires. There was a sudden sharp yapping. A little \nlame dog came staggering into the clearing. 'By Herakles,' 1 \nexclaimed, 'I recognise that beast!' \n'I do too,' said Aristotle. 'And that lame animal bodes no good to \nus.' \n'That creature belonged to the cook,' said one of the men. 'Not \nhere now - we have to cook for ourselves. But the dog can stand \nguard, and don't eat much. Come on.' \nThe men hurried us to a narrow pathway through some low scrub \nand a couple of short trees twisted by the wind. From this place, \nthough it was near the beach, we could not see the mainland. Neither \ncould we now see the longed-for Kos. \n'My little realm - such as it is,' said Nikias. 'We've come here \nbefore while making repairs. Not much here in the way of \nshelter, but \nit's still summer, after all. The men will cook you up some fish stew \nsoon. Time's getting on.' \nSo it was. The sun was lower in the sky than 1 should have liked. \nThe days were undeniably shorter now. It \nwas an unpleasant thought \nthat the night would come while we were stranded here in such \ncompany. 1 needed no instruction - not now -\nregarding our \ncompanions. \n'Aristotle,' 1 said in a low tone, 'these men must be pirates.' \n'I know,' he replied. 'I suspected that before. And what imbeciles \nwe have been!' \n'The Theban slave is their confederate.' \n'Yes. But not only he.' \n350 \n\n\nTHE KILLING ISLAND \nThere was not much chance for private conversation, with the men \nobviously guarding us, and Nikias looking at us with a leering glance \nof superiority. \n'Don't worry, Aristotle sir,' he said meaningfully to the \nphilosopher. 'We shall have a good talk on the morrow. Mayhap we \ncan come to some kind of agreement.' \nWe had to content ourselves with that. The men went fishing and \nstarted the promised fish stew. Then they insisted on taking the other \ntravellers' bags and looking through them. There was little of value, \nbut they adopted what they could use. \n'I shall take these earrings, if you don't mind,' said the tall sailor, \nfishing two pair of silver earrings out of the little girl's mother's bag. \nThe woman shut her eyes and did not reply. 'But those are our \nthings!' protested Philokleia. \n'Least said, soonest mended,' said the tall sailor in a jocular tone. \n'I have a lady friend these baubles would certainly suit. She's sad and \nlonely at the moment. You wouldn't want to deprive her, would you?' \n'Well, if you have a woman already,' said a gruff sailor with a big \nchin, 'then what about me? Don't I have a right to what has been \nbrought to us here?' He looked at the woman. \n'Hush, pig,' said Menestor. 'Forbidden. Meat for your masters. Do \nnot interfere when not called upon.' \nThe big-chinned man subsided, scowling. But I felt for the woman \nand the dangerous case she was in, surrounded by rough men who \nhad no other women on the island. If the sailors committed such an \nact of \nhubris as this man appeared to meditate, I ought to try to help \nher fight off an attacker. But what chance would I have against so \nmany sailors? - as well as the Theban, for I could see that Menestor, \nslave though he might be, was a leading spirit. \nNo outrages happened that night, however; the woman slept \nbetween her father and her daughter, with Aristotle on the child's \nother side, and myself by Aristotle trying to keep one eye open. We \nawoke cooled by night breezes and stiffening in our sandy bed, but \n351 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF UFE \nthe day was fine; there was water to drink and, a little later, a flat \nbread cake only slightly stale. \n'The oar-holes are filled in and the oars are mended,' announced \nNikias. The pilgrim and the family all brightened, as if they truly \nbelieved they would be taken home after a slight delaying incident. \n'Time for our promised excursion!' Nikias continued. 'Sorry, it's \njust these two this time,' he explained to the others, nodding at \nAristotle and myself. 'Important folks, you understand. Boy, help \nthese masters with their luggage.' \nThe youth Menestor assisted with alacrity in handing all our things \nback into the boat. While we were both wondering whether to get in \nor not, two sailors pushed us into the vessel. The ship then went off, \nwith ourselves, Menestor and Nikias, and only two oarsmen rowing -\nthe two who had fetched the stone weights the day before. The other \nsailors remained to guard the rest of our party. \n'You may get to Kos yet,' Nikias said in encouraging tones. We \nknew he was a liar. Yet my heart gave a painful thump of \nyearning at \nthe thought of arriving in Kos harbour. \n'I do not like to detain you unduly,' said Nikias, 'because we have \nan old association. Quite friendly terms we were on, weren't we? After \nall, 1 helped you out of a fix before, when you were stuck in Naxos \nwith no ship. So you can help me, and we will call it quits.' \nAristotle was observing him steadily, but said nothing. 1 asked, \n'What exactly do you want?' \n'Oh - exactly is hard to say. Our wants vary from day to day. What \ndoes Alexander want, exactly?' Nikias seemed disposed to be playful \nand philosophical. 'I want first of all to talk - now we are far enough \naway from that mob, we cannot be overheard. 1 shall ask my men to \nswim off a bit so you can speak freely. Off you go, men. Be dolphins \nfor a while! \n'Menestor will stay here,' he added, turning to us as the two sailors \nobediently dived off and swam away. 'Menestor and I are both \narmed, 1 should warn you. Menestor has a club, and both of \nus have \n352 \n\n\nTHE KILLING ISLAND \ngood daggers. So do not think you can take advantage of the \nsituation. You cannot.' \nMenestor, with a mischievous smile, waved the thick knobbed stick \nof \nwhich he was possessed. I saw the dagger gleaming in a belt around \nhis waist. \n'Well, now,' said Aristotle calmly. 'What is the mighty matter that \ndemands so much secrecy from your own crew? As you must surely \nbe all pirates together, it cannot be the mere fact of \nengaging in crime \nthat you wish to conceal. Perhaps you think there is some way of \nbenefiting yourself and leaving them out of it.' \n'Maybe,' said Nikias. 'And maybe it does you no good to try to \nthink too much. I admit you got the better of me before - to Hades \nwith you for a clever fellow! And a fortunate! When we were in easy \nsea there was at first too many boats all around us. The storm at sea \nwas unlucky. The big ship was too big and too damaged for us to take \nas a prize. By Herakles, I could have strangled you when you gave the \nnews about yourself to the passenger in the damaged ship! After that, \nwe couldn't conveniently do our business. Too many people would \nknow about where you were last seen, if that storm-damaged vessel \nchanced to come to port. And it did. I was prudent to hold off. So you \nescaped me then.' \n'So - my guess was correct,' retorted Aristotle. 'Who commissioned \nyou to take a particular interest in me, by the way? Who exactly paid \nyou to kill me - and how much was the deed worth? I had deduced the \npiracy. Later, however, I began foolishly to doubt my suspicions. \nLuckily, the damaged vessel was too big and still too seaworthy for you \nto overrun it. I am glad that my words to my friend's son - uttered by \ndesign, to ensure our safety - had a good effect.' \n'For a little time,' agreed Nikias. 'Who knows what the Fates have \nin store? Maybe the gods have favoured me. I am lucky too. The \nHeavenly Twins appeared to me, you remember. Then you had \nnothing much worth taking. Now - now you have things I really want. \nAnd something that others who work with me - never mind who they \n353 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nare - really want. So we shall all do much better than before. Speak \nup and tell us where the hidden treasure is. Frankly. Let us deal quite \nfrankly, and you shall have less trouble to endure.' \n'I see,' said Aristotle. He remained silent for a good while after that. \n'Well, Menestor,' said Nikias after a long, frowning silence. 'Since \nhe seems uncommunicative, what do you say to looking at their \nluggage? Hey?' He picked up the bag of plants and peered into it. \n'What have we here? Cabbage?' \n'That's material for natural philosophy,' I said, trying to explain. \n'It's only valuable to people like Aristotle and Theophrastos who are \nworking on the history of \nplants and animals. These are just pieces of \nplants from Asia.' \n'So, now - soup for supper, Menestor. Catch!' He tossed the large \nleather bag to the youth, who caught it by the thong around the top. \n'Are they poison?' \n'I don't know. Some of \nthem may be.' I answered at random since \nAristotle was not talking. \n'And you really have no idea,' said Nikias admiringly, 'which are \npoison and which aren't? These roots and shoots might kill the cooks \nas well as the eaters, might they not? So - though we have need of \nvegetables, we shall have to forgo them. Toss them away, Menestor.' \nMenestor, despite Aristotle's movement of distress, opened the \nmouth of \nthe bag and tossed the contents into the ripples of \na moving \ncurrent, which bore them away. \n'The bag itself can be useful,' said Nikias easily. 'Next item. Some \nmore plant stufl?' \n'Yes - you can see for yourself.' I wasn't disposed to inform him \nfurther, could I have done so. \n'Well, and more vegetables go into the briny stew!' The roots and \nbulbs were tossed away, some sinking and some floating on the foam. \n'Now,' said Nikias happily, 'we shall come to more interesting \nmaterials. And I think, 0 Aristotle, that you are distressed by these \nlosses of your peculiar treasures. You are not blind! From your lack \n354 \n\n\nTHE KILLING ISLAND \nof speech, old man, I fear you may be going deaf.' Nikias suddenly \nspoke very loudly. 'Deaf people need optical proof. You have had \noptical proof. Realise this: I will indeed destroy what is not useful to \nme. Unless you cooperate. Or unless you persuade me that something \nis useful to me. In that case, you can beg me to take it as a gift. That's \nthe way. See? Assist me now on one small matter and you will see how \ngrateful I can be.' \nAristotle still said nothing, but sat like one in earnest pensive \nthought rather than like someone studying a retort or defence. Nikias \nturned to me. \n'Tell this old man,' he said loudly, 'that if he wants to save any \nmore of his precious goods he must cooperate with me. I need to \nknow something, and I want to know it now.' \n'What is that?' I asked after a moment, to fill in for the unspeaking \nAristotle. \n'Harpalos the Treasurer had an interview with you both. Harpalos \nwants you to go to pick up more treasure elsewhere. I want - I need -\nto know what and where it is. And I want you to tell this old \nphilosopher there's people in Athens who will be better pleased with \nhim if he is more reasonable.' \n'I cannot help you,' I said. 'If \nthere is anything to know, Aristotle \nalone knows it.' \nAt last Aristotle spoke. 'Stephanos knows a little,' he said casually, \n'but that little is useless without me. Together we perhaps have some \nknowledge - but of \nthings that do not concern you. ' \n'And perhaps,' said Nikias, 'you feel - being a philosopher - that \nyou can be content with what you have already?' He peered into the \nwoolly bags. 'Let's see now - Why, isn't this a pretty toy!' He picked \nup one of \nthe little tablets of gold, unwrapped it and waved it about. \nThe morning sunlight flashed off the bright clean metal. \n'Men dig for gold. Let's dig into this fine bag again ~ \nand look what \ncomes out! Lots and lots of gold coins.' He showed us some in the \npalm of his hand, waving them teasingly towards us and then away, \n355 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nabove his head. 'See, here's a pretty coin and here's its brother - and \nits sisters too!' He dropped the coins into the bag, all save one which \nhe flipped on the back of \nhis hand. \n'I see Darius' head. A golden dareikos. From Sardis, perhaps, or \nmost likely gold from great Persepolis. Or does this fortunate sack \nbreed gold on its own? Menestor, I beg you to take the other bag, and \nsecure it. Carefully - and don't take your eye off these gentlemen. \nBetter not to wave the coins about any longer, lest our loyal dolphins \ncatch sight of \nit. They would feel aggrieved they were not let in on this \npretty secret.' The two men tied up the bags of \ngold. \n'Does not this sight lacerate your hean, 0 Aristotle? What wealth \nyou are in the process oflosing!' \n'Gold is not my chief \ngood,' said Aristotle mildly. 'Money is not the \nend for which I live.' \n'Well, but suppose you had a duty to perform regarding this gold? \nSuppose you can no longer perform that good deed. Suppose a \nshocking fact becomes known to the powers of \nMakedonia and to all \ngood citizens in Athens: old reliable Aristotle took what didn't belong \nto him? Bags of wealth - too much for the ageing philosopher. Pure \nfresh gold was seductive, and he abducted it. A prudent coward, \nthough, this old rascal. He hides himself \nso cleverly he is not heard of \nany more. Reputation - gone for ever. Will folk then think gold was \nnot your object? Will it matter what you really used to live for - or say \nyou lived for?' \n'You must deal with your own honesty or dishonesty as you see fit,' \nsaid Aristotle. 'It is clear I am not able to furnish you with a sense of \nthe Good or any respect for Justice.' \n'Well- Justice!' intervened Menestor. 'Justice is a fine word! But \nwho knows where Justice resides? Or if there is any such thing? Was \nit Justice that destroyed Thebes? Justice that put me and thirty \nthousand like me into slavery? Justice when Alexander and Harpalos \nand the others stole all that gold from the Persians? Don't prattle here \nabout Justice!' \n356 \n\n\nTHE KILLING ISLAND \nAristotle looked at the Theban with a kind of sad interest. 'There \nis something in what you say,' he remarked. 'I should be willing to \nconverse with you on the subject. Have you read the Republic, by the \nway?' \n'''Have you read the Republic?'\" \nMenestor mimicked him. 'I \nsuppose you think slaves can sit about reading all day. But I have read \nit, or some of \nit when I was a boy -' \n'Stop it!' commanded Nikias. 'Where do you think this is, a school-\nroom? You are a scholar, sir, as they say -' turning to Aristotle. 'So \nhere I suppose is something you do value. Menestor and I looked into \nthis box before. It is a thing with writing on it.' \n'It's a book,' said Aristotle. Nikias freed the box of \nits integuments \nand opened it. The pages of Kallisthenes' parchment manuscript \nwere quite fresh and undamaged by the journey. The clear sepia ink \nwas readable in the easy daylight. \n'Yes, it is a book,' said Menestor in his angry mimicking tone. He \npicked up the first page. 'The Deeds of \nAlexander- glorious Alexander? \nRan around Troy \n- declared a son of \nAmmon in wilds of \nEgypt - great \nfeats on the riverside. Fig-sucking prattle!' \n'This is a valuable piece of history,' protested Aristotle, taking the \npage from Menestor. 'A great labour. And I haven't had time to read \nit yet.' \n'Well, you might have time to read it now,' said Nikias. 'We might \nuse it for bum-wipe and stick it down the latrine.' \n'Not so good for us, if \nsomebody tried to read our latrine,' laughed \nMenestor. 'If \none of \nAlexander's loyal henchmen came peering round \nour camp, such disrespect to these pages would be unhealthy.' \n'Pity - we're so short of bum-wipe. So, 0 Aristotle, what to do? I \nsee this treasure has caught your attention. I'll make you a fair offer: \nyou may read half of it. How's that?' \n'Generous,' said Menestor. \n'And the other half \n- well, there's too much writing in the world,' \nsaid Nikias. He snatched the top leaf from Aristotle. 'No!' cried \n357 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nAristotle, trying to stay Nikias' hand. Menestor jumped up and \ntwisted his arm until he let go. 'Aha!' Nikias threw the leaf \noverboard. \n'Now we see where your treasure lies! This will make you talk!' \nNikias began to throw more of the manuscript pages overboard. I \ncould see them floating on the deep, the ink melting slowly off, yet \nstill legible. \"Alexander wrote then to Darius the following letter\"; \"a \nwhip, a ball, and a chest of gold\"; \"In the spring Alexander broke \ncamp ... \n\"; \"expecting that Darius' forces would meet him ... \n\"; \"like \nAkhilleus, remembering ... \n'\" Words jumped up and down through \nthe water. Aristotle clenched his hands on the bench where he sat, but \nsaid nothing. \n'Be reasonable, man,' said Nikias encouragingly. 'Be wise. As I've \nheard it said: \n\"Best is that man above all men who everything can know, \nAnd next in good is humbler he who to these wise will go; \nWho cannot for himself see truth, or from another hear it \nTo store away in his own mind - this man is without merit.\" \nBe instructed, men. You are wise if you do what we tell you.' \n'Not altogether the case, even - Was it Diophantos who repeated \nthese verses to you?' \n'Diophantos? No - What does that matter? You are simply losing \nmore of your book. We know that Harpalos told you to go to \nsomewhere secret to pick up more treasure. Here's the agreement.' \nHe leaned forward and looked steadily at us. 'You two take me to the \nsecret spot where Harpalos has stored his hoard of gold and gems. \nGive me all the wealth and goods we find there - and swear by all the \ngods to keep quiet. Then you can have the rest of \nthe manuscript, and \na free passage home.' \n'I entirely believe I should not have to worry about paying for a \npassage,' said Aristotle, with a dry laugh. A gull swooped down and \n358 \n\n\nTHE KIlLING ISLAND \ncaught a page, then stared at the piece of \nwriting in disappointment \nand dropped it back in the sea. \n'You should not go about destroying books,' Aristotle continued. \n'It's the act of a barbarian, not a Greek.' \n'Pa-ta-pa-ta. I am Greek enough to serve my turn. Some say the \nMakedonians are only Greeks second-hand. Don't come high and \nmighty with me. You and your young friend. Your life is in my hands \n- think of it. If \nyou won't cooperate today, we must see what can be \ndone to get a better answer on the morrow. I'm being generous, mind \nthat. But we're not patient men.' \nNikias turned the boat about and gave a whistling cry for his \n'dolphins', who soon bobbed into view. Dripping from their swim, \nthey grabbed the oars and returned us to the island. We were not glad \nto get there, nor was our reception agreeable. As soon as our feet \ntouched ground, Nikias barked out an order and the men held us with \na strong grip. \n'Fetch the chains!' Nikias ordered Menestor, who obeyed at once, \nreturning with zealous swiftness. In his hands he bore the dreadful \nmanacles with which obstreperous slaves are kept in check. Metal \nlocks and links were new and of \ngood quality, stolen, I thought, from \narmy supplies. \n'Sorry,' said Nikias. 'But you have given me little choice. With so \nmany of you on this island, I cannot have you all running around, \nchatting and plotting.' He looked at the rest of \nhis guests - the family \nfrom Laurion, the pale-faced pilgrim. \n'Pay no mind,' he said jovially. 'Just a little unfinished business \nbetween me and these naughty gentlemen here. They owes me, and \nwon't give us our due. Know that as soon as they cooperate with me, \nwe can all leave this island.' \nThey were obviously astonished, but nobody made any move to \nrescue or to remonstrate as the chains were fitted on us. Soon I wore \nan iron ring around the right hand, and iron rings about both ankles. \nA chain attached to the ankle rings made walking difficult, nor could \n359 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \none take long steps. In this degrading clanking costume we were \nobliged to follow our tormentor, who conducted us with mock \nceremony to a side of the island away from the others, a small cove \npartly hidden from the view of our party's side of the island by a \nscreen of thorny shrubs deformed by the winds. \n'There you are,' said Nikias. \n'We may remember to give you food \nand water occasionally. Or not, as the fancy takes us. It \nis sometimes \ngood for health and sanity to fast. But Menestor shall listen to what \nyou say, in case your conversation proves interesting.' \nThe period of \nsuffering began. It is true that Aristotle and I had the \nconsolation of \nbeing together, but we could not really talk with such \na perpetual listener. The little lame dog (Doris' dog, I was sure of \nit) \nromped towards us, whining as usual, but it was driven away by \nMenestor. The sun beat down upon our beach and made us thirsty. \n'You can often come upon a rill of \nfresh water by quickly scraping up \nsand near a beach,' Aristotle informed me as he dug with manacled \nhands, 'but drink quickly, the water soon becomes brackish.' This \nproved true; our scraping was not rewarded with any great quantity \nof water, but it helped. \nIt was embarrassing to answer the calls of nature. We dug out a \ntrough with our hands and feet, a small pit on the inland side at the \nfurthest distance our chain would allow. I had never realised the \nhorror of \nbeing truly a prisoner. Since I was a boy I had loved walking. \nAs a free man I could go wheresoever my feet would carry me, taking \npleasure in moving through the changing landscape. Now I was \ndeprived of the power of movement, a power that wild animals (and \neven some tame ones) take for granted. I irritated my companion by \nwalking restlessly the length of \nmy chain. He pointed out that wasn't \na good idea as it was using up bodily moisture. Water was supplied \nirregularly, food more rarely still. \nThe second and third day they let us alone except when Nikias \ncame to bark some questions at us. We gathered that some of the \nsailors were occupying themselves with fishing, and others were \n360 \n\n\nTHE KIl.LING ISLAND \nindolent, playing gambling games and drinking what they had \nbrought with them. The fourth day Nikias' active henchmen brought \nus out in front of our companions and subjected us to beating. \n'Now you will learn, old teacher, what happens to stubborn \nstudents,' said Nikias jocularly. He flogged Aristotle on the shoulders \nwith a rope. The others - the pilgrim and the little family - were made \nto watch. \n'Tell this old man,' Nikias shouted,' that if he promises to behave, \nyou can all go home.' \nAristotle gritted his teeth and said nothing - made no outcry or \nremonstrance - and gave no information, of course. \nThey did not beat Aristotle very hard, I think because they feared \nfor his health. Nikias earnestly hoped to get his hands on the secret \ncache, and killing Aristotle would spoil that game. For me they had \nless compunction. They tied me to a tree, bared my shoulders and \nbeat me with rods, as a slave is beaten. I protested that this was \nhubris, and liable to the utmost prosecution of the law, as I was an \nAthenian citizen. But they were not in a mood to heed. Then I \nendeavoured to hold my peace, but I did not, and in the end - I am \nashamed to remark it - I roared like a young child. People say slaves \nare cowardly because they cry when beaten, but I am now certain that \nit is easier to bear wounding in battle than this kind of contemptuous \ntorture. Once the party were satisfied that we were experiencing \npunishment, they threw us down on the beach together to recover \nfrom our lashes. The dew gave a grateful coolness to our tortured \nskin. We recovered as best we could the next day, when we were \nunmolested. We were so sleepy and unconversational that Menestor \ngave up listening, and went off. That meant a precious chance to talk. \n'That was bad,' I said. 'It can only get worse.' \n'Yes,' said Aristotle, 'it probably will. But if! tell him what I know, \nit will mean instant death for the whole party. Whereas if we stall, \nsomething may tum in our favour.' \n'You are sure they will kill us?' \n361 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'Certainly. It was very bad that they let us see they had the corpse \nof poor Peleus on board. We instantly knew too much. They did not \ncare enough about us to deceive us - therefore we are not meant to \ntell a tale to the world outside. Not any of us. I cannot think of any \nway of \ninducing them to let the little family go.' \n'Nikias did give them a chance,' I recollected. 'In Halikarnassos, he \ntold the family and the pilgrims to wait or to take another ship. A \nsporting chance - but Fortune was not with them.' \n'True. The worst thing is, Nikias is not acting on his own. As a \nmere pirate, he might be more persuadable. He is in the pay of \nsomeone much more powerful. A person or persons connected with \nDiophantos and his cohort.' \n'While Peleus, we may believe, is what he seems - seemed.' \n'Yes. A straightforward loyal Makedonian officer. So those playing \nsome other game had him killed, in order, it seems, to get hold of us. \nAfter we met with Harpalos.' \n'I believe,' I said, 'that my letter from Theodoros was largely forged \n- the Hesiod verses inserted to cover up what was there before. Odd \nthat Nikias should have quoted those lines! The forgery would have \nbeen done before we met with Harpalos. I wanted to look at the letter \nagain, but you remember it was lost.' \n'Somewhere,' Aristotle thought aloud, 'there is mind at work. \nSomewhere an organisation, a structure. Nikias refers to people in \nAthens - not just Makedonians. Diophantos is a Makedonian, but he \nseems to have gone over to this other invisible party. We may presume \nthere are officers who are disaffected, if not from Makedon, at least \nfrom Alexander. Perhaps they simply don't favour the move eastward. \nOr perhaps they hope to take over, leaving Alexander enmired or per-\nhaps killed in the distant depths of \nAsia beyond the far mountains.' \n'It reminds me,' I said, recalling a conversation once heard in the \nAgora. 'There are some who want Athens to keep to herself, but there \nare others who would like to revive the Athenian League. Athens - or \nthe most important citizens - would take control of \nthe cities of \nIonia \n362 \n\n\nTHE KIlLING ISLAND \nand Karia and so on, and the islands. Their own empire, free of \nAlexander. ' \n'True, Stephanos. We are confronting something much harder to \nresolve than a simple crime. Even murder is only part of \nit. Whoever \nit is, our hidden enemy, hopes now to get the money of \nHarpalos, for \nhis - or their - own purpose. Presumably someone with no love for \nMakedon. But yet, someone of good enough position to know \nHarpalos, or know about him.' \n'Could the plotter be Harpalos himself?' \n'Not entirely impossible. There is something of \nthe trickster about \nHarpalos. Whoever is behind all this seems to be a trickster of some \nkind. But Harpalos could scarcely act alone. I don't see what interests \nhe could really serve by this series of events. He serves himself pretty \nwell already!' \n'That Theban slave is mixed up in it,' I said. 'He has no love for \nMakedon.' \n'Indeed. And we know one important thing. The lad can read -\nprobably at a much higher level than these seamen who are his \ncurrent masters. So he could have abstracted and read your letter -\nand destroyed it. But he is unlikely to have been the original forger, \nsince he was in Asia. Forgery is a skilled job, not work you'd give to \nsomeone with little opportunity to practise writing.' \nI was trying in a stupid head-aching way to think what all this could \nmean. The sun beat dully upon the water, birds cried dull cries. \nSuddenly there was a commotion on the other side of the sandy \nisland. Screams, sound of \nrunning. Menestor came bursting through \nthe underbrush. \n'Come, my lads,' he said jovially, grabbing the two of \nus and taking \nus on our clanking way. 'This is sport! And it may open your eyes and \nmouths!' \nA terrible sight met our eyes - the poor puny pilgrim with one badly \nbent leg was spreadeagled on the ground, face down, and two men \nwere standing over him with rods. \n363 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'We waited for you,' said Nikias. 'We wanted everyone to see this \njudgement executed. This man was caught trying to flee. We will \nmake an example of \nhim.' \nTwo of his men started beating the prostrate form in a rhythmic \nmanner. \n'Put some more into it, lads!' yelled Nikias. 'Menestor - 1 think this \ngrovelling fellow's a foreigner, not a Greek. So even though you are a \nslave, you may have your chance. Here!' And he tossed to Menestor \nnot a rod but a short whip. 'See what you can do!' \nMenestor gritted his teeth with the effort and bestrode his victim. \nHe lashed and lashed away, as if he had taken leave of \nhis senses, his \nface writhing and distorted, his muscles heaving. The display of \nrage \nwas terrible, like an earthquake or thunderstorm, as if Menestor \nhimself \nwas not in charge of \nit but the rage in charge of \nhim. The man \ntwisted and shrieked under the lashes. At last he ceased writhing, then \nbecame quite still. \n'Stop!' said Nikias. He took the whip from Menestor. 'I don't want \nyou to get into the habit of unnecessary murder, my boy. There's a \nright and a wrong way to do everything. Let this wretched fellow die \nslowly, now. Turn him face up, and we'll just leave him here. We'll \nlet the females and the old man leave the place. But you can watch,' \nhe said to Aristotle. 'You cut up animals, don't you, and observe \nthem? This will be a nice treat for you, doctor. You will be able to tell \nus in the end which it was - pain, blood loss, heatstroke or thirst - that \nkilled this fellow. No - don't go near him -' as Aristotle started \ntowards the hapless pilgrim supine in the sand, his hands tied with \nropes to tree trunks nearby. 'You must only observe, mind.' \nWeak and shaken, still in our fetters, we had to sit on the sand and \nobserve. Little changed. The poor man's shoulders heaved occa-\nsionally with the effort of taking breath. 1 kept thinking he was \nbreathing his last, but no. On it went, on with the wearying relent-\nlessness of life that seems to have no other purpose but itself, tiring \nthe possessor. \n364 \n\n\nTHE KILLING ISLAND \nTo my surprise, one of the sailors (:ame tiptoeing over to us with \nsome water to quench our thirst. \n'Good man,' said Aristotle in a mild tone, 'as you have had parents \nand people who love you, take this drink to that poor fellow there. \nDabble his lips gently - see ifhe can swallow.' \nSurprised, the man obeyed, still in silence. The swollen mouth took \nin a little water. Then a little more. 'Enough,' said Aristotle \neventually, with the same gentleness as .before. I could see the sailor \nfelt some awe of him, even though he had seen him beaten two days \nago. \n'Let me, I entreat, sit near this man all night,' Aristotle asked. 'I can \ndo you no harm.' \nThe man agreed, and let us move our iron-bound selves closer to \nthe victim; he also allowed Aristotle to keep the water with him. \n'You see,' Aristotle said to me, in quite a normal tone. 'Death is not \nalways predictable. Life and death are mysteries. Some would have \ndied already under this treatment. It seems to me we each have our \nown vital heat, and this becomes exhausted slowly or quickly. In the \nvery old, heat has been gently drawn off, and they die easily. In \nothers, heat fluctuates, as in violent fevers, when it is over-spent. The \nlung and the brain supply coolness. When these do not function, the \nvital heat exhausts itself more rapidly. Sustain radical heat and \ntempering moisture both, and Nature may restore a lease on life.' He \ndabbled the man's mouth with water again. \nAristotle sat serenely and solemnly watching as the pale stars came \nup and went down. He seemed inwardly concentrated. I ceased to be \nable to feel anything. Not pity. Not astonishment. Looking at the \ndying man, I knew that this might be my fate too, just as surely as I \nknew that the white light around me came from the moon above us. \nPerhaps Nikias was himself somewhat awed by the terrific flogging \nof the hapless pilgrim, for he gave us relative peace in the next few \ndays. On the second day he moved us away from the still-breathing \npilgrim back to our lonely little cove. But on the third day (I think it \n365 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nwas the third), a day of some wind and grey sky, Nikias came to us \nand announced he had had enough. He seemed more glowering and \nanxious than usual. The slow dying of the pilgrim was perhaps \ntwitching his soul, rendering him strained and anxious, and the \nweather aroused an impatience to finish his mission before the \nautumn. \n'You cannot sit about here in this holiday fashion,' he said angrily. \n'We must soon set off. Now, join the others while we think what we \nare to do.' We were dragged away from our prisonous hiding place \nand moved to the other beach. By the 'other beach' 1 mean the place \nwhere the little family were, and Menestor and the other sailors. \n'There are too many of \nyou,' said Nikias, 'all giving us trouble. You \nneed food and that is becoming a serious problem. We are running \nout of \ngrain for flour - and other supplies. We must depart before the \nweather turns. And all this trouble because of \nthis stubborn old fellow \nthere!' He pointed at Aristotle. 'You tell him to give us what we want, \nso we can let all of \nyou go.' \n'Pray, sir,' said Hermippos to Aristotle, in a voice that did not \nsucceed in not shaking, 'pray give them what they want.' \n'Will you really let us go?' asked little Philokleia. 'Will you let him \ngo?' pointing at Aristotle. \n'Oh, that old man,' laughed Nikias. 'Don't worry your head about \nhim. He'll have to go a-journeying with me.' \n'I don't like you,' said the little girl. 'You are mean. You do bad \nthings. 1 think,' she said to Aristotle, 'he is just like the Hungry \nPrince. You remember, in the story. And the gods will punish him! \nMaybe he will try to eat himself all up.' \n'What's this?' Nikias was suddenly purple with rage. He strode up \nto the child. 'She's a witch! Making threats and prophecies!' \n'But you are,' said the child. 'You are like the Hungry Prince. And \nthe gods will punish you. After you have eaten everything, then you \nwill eat yourself.' \n'This is sorcery - 1 won't have it!' roared Nikias. 'Uttering curses-\n366 \n\n\nTHE KIll.lNG ISLAND \nthe little toad! A seeress possessed of a demon! She's bad luck. It is \nbad luck to have a woman-child aboard.' \nWith the child in his grasp, he moved towards the smallest of his \ncraft where it lay lightly beached. He threw the child into the little \nship and jumped in himself. \n'Push off, Menestor!' he ordered. And Menestor pushed the ship \naway. Then Nikias took the long oar and poled himself from the back \nof the ship, slowly, until the craft was a little way off shore. Only a \nlittle way - about the length of four or five men. Then he made the \nchild stand up. \n'Now we shall put an end to these ravings!' he cried and laid his \ndagger against the child's throat. \n'No!' cried Aristotle in an anguished voice, but one of the sailors \nclapped his hands over the old man's mouth. Aristotle was trying to \nrun towards the boat, but we both toppled in the sand, having gone \nthe length of our short chain. \n'No, I beg of \nyou, sir,' cried aged Hermippos. 'I implore you, give \nus back our child and we shall give you anything you demand - to all \nmy estate in Laurion!' \n'No!' screamed the mother. '0, Mother Demeter! Save my \nPhilokleia! 0 sir, have mercy, she is only a child, a virgin -' \n'A virgin! Yes, that's a problem,' said Nikias. 'Sacrificing virgins! \nNo, I won't do that. We can soon solve that one.' He took the \nhorrified child and thrusting up her clothing he raped her in the day-\nlight for all to see. \n'There! There's no virgin in the case now!' he screamed. The quick \nbronze dagger gleamed and whizzed. A dark line appeared on the \nchild's throat. Nikias held her body up for a minute so it did not \ncrumple to the floor of the boat even as she was giving up the spirit \nand the life went out of \nher. \n'There's one less of \nyou!' he cried, and threw the body overboard. \nWe all heard the splash. \nThere was a horrible silence. Even the mother was not crying but \n367 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nstood like Niobe, a statue. The old grandfather had slumped down \ninto the sand. I could feel the excitement and perturbation of the \nsailors. Aristotle's breath came heaving up, as if \nhe had been able to \nrun for parasangs to save the child - as his mind wished to do and his \nbody could not. \n'So, there you are!' shouted Nikias, defiantly. 'That's war for you. \nIt's happened before and will happen again to better females than her. \nAnd no more witchcraft - no nasty prophesying - no curses!' \nHe need not have worried. We were all beyond speech. Nikias \njoined the other sailors for dinner and they left our little group to \nourselves for a time. The moon rose. We all just sat there staring into \nthe sea or into space. \n'Look,' said Hermippos softly. 'The child floats!' We saw a gleam \nof light on white clothing, showing in the moon track on the water. \nThe body was tossing gently on the top of \nthe waves, not far from us. \nAt last, we dropped off \nto sleep, still in our sitting postures. We awoke \nin the middle of the night on hearing - once more - a splash. \nHermippos was missing from the group on the shore. First we \nthought he had swum out to recover the body, but then we saw that \nhe had gone out to make a hole in the water. That was another of \nus \ngone. When we awoke in the morning, there were two less of \nus. The \nwoman was hanging from a thorn tree, turning and turning in the \ngentle wind. \n368 \n\n\nXXI \n==~9_~e== \na'-'G \nEscape \nThe sequence of \ndeaths seemed to have shocked even our captors. At \nleast I think so, because they behaved with less hostility to us in the \nnext few days. They let us use some of \nour clothing (though our bags \nhad been adopted by the pirates). I was glad of my crumpled \nhimation now; one needed a cloak in the nights. Of course, our \nenemies' work of guarding us was greatly lessened now that three of \nour number were gone. And a fourth, the poor pilgrim, seemed to be \nbreathing his last, stretched on the sands where they had put him. Yet \nat Aristotle's dignified remonstrance and entreaty, one of the men \n(the same who had come to us before with water) supplied the pros-\ntrate sufferer with moisture for the lips, and even allowed Aristotle to \nsit by him, ministering as much as he was able, at regular intervals. \nAristotle had the temerity to demand honey for his patient so he could \nmake hydromel, and after some grumbling the sweet stuff was given \nhim from Nikias' own supplies. I noticed that Aristotle did not use all \nof the honey, nor put it back in the jar, but kept some in a leather \npouch under a bush, which struck me as odd treatment for honey. \nNourished by the hydromel that Aristotle poured delicately through \nhis lips a drop at a time, the man continued to breathe. \n369 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'He is not as feeble as he looked, obviously,' said Aristotle. 'Or he \nwould have died long before this. His constitution is excellent. The \nman must have been of a good habit of body before he got whatever \nwound or distress it was that urged him to take a pilgrimage to Kos.' \n'Bad luck for him,' I remarked. 'He did not get to the healing island \nof \nKos, but to a nameless island for torture and dying.' \n'That does seem to be pure chance or Fate,' said Aristotle thought-\nfully. 'It is no accident that you and I are here. But it seems accident \nthat the others are - or were - here.' \nWe were talking as before on our old prison-beach where we had \nagain been led, the pirate group wanting an undisturbed mealtime. \nThese days they gave us a longer chain so we could even stroll some \ndistance along the beach, and separately if we wished. But \ncustomarily we sat together, as now. \n'I wonder exactly how long we have been here?' I looked at the sky. \n'We have been way from home a long time. I kept account of \nthe days \npretty well at first, at least until we got to Asia. But now I don't know \nhow long we have been away. The weather is still warm but the days \nare shorter. The stars have changed; there is a dew in the morning. I \nthink it must be in the month of \nBoedromion. The celebration of \nthe \nEleusinian Mysteries may have begun by now.' \n'Boedromion. Yes. The month of \nApollo the Helper. Apollo-quick-\nto-help. The month's name means running to a man shouting for \nhelp - only too appropriate for us. But we are dumb before our \nslaughterers. \n' \n'May the time bring us assistance,' I said. '0, \nAristotle, it was in the \nmonth of Boedromion that I came to you for help. I was a man \nbellowing for assistance, and you came to my aid.' \n'It is kind of you to remember that, Stephanos. What I see too \nclearly now is that I have led you into terrible trouble. But for \nknowing me, you would not be here.' \nI knew that was the simple truth, and could not clearly see how to \ncomfort him. \n370 \n\n\nESCAPE \n'It doesn't matter,' I said feebly. \n'But it does. You are a young man with your life before you. You \nhave a bride waiting for you, children yet to be born. I am old. Any \nman who reaches fifty must realise he is not immortal. With so much \nI still want to do, I judged, perhaps foolishly, that I should be given \nmore time. But I let myself - I let us - drift into this danger. It comes \nto me now that my grief affected my judgement. I didn't notice \nthings. I had not so much attention to give to life. Thus important \nsigns passed me by.' \n'How so?' \n'I should have seen that of \ncourse we were going to be followed out of \nAthens - at least, I was. Someone would be anxious to know that I had \ngone, and where I was bound. There are large political interests at \nstake, not just spite. We both see that there is what we might call \ncrudely pro-Makedon and anti-Makedon sentiment in Athens. But \nwho is using these sentiments for their own purposes? There is a strong \nand intelligent antagonist at work, some individual or group with a \nlarger design, and I am important enough to have a place in that person \nor persons' calculations about the future of his design. Therefore I \nwould be watched - at very least. Probably it was always intended to \nget rid of me once I was far enough away. We were followed out of \nAthens - out of \nAttika, rather - perhaps by more than one watcher.' \n'Who? Oh, yes, that slavewoman Doris. We talked about her \nbefore. Now we know she is assuredly connected with these pirates. \nDoris' dog is here, though she is not. But Doris seems too lowly -\nand too crippled - to be a real enemy.' \n'Do not underestimate her intelligence, or her cold blood. We \ndon't even know that she's really a cripple. She certainly had access to \nthe kitchen and the knives in Aristodamos' house. Doris is the most \nlikely murderer of our first captain. Because he came to warn us of \nsomething, he had to be disposed of then and there. Most likely there \nwas some original plan to make sure, in any event, that on the last part \nof our journey we sailed with Nikias.' \n371 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'Diophantos could not have been the killer on Naxos,' I agreed. \n'Whatever he may have been up to in Phaselis.' \n'I firmly believe that Doris alone - though acting under orders -\nwas the killer of \nour good captain Aiskhines. As we noted before, her \ndog did not bark in the night. Who else could keep the beast quiet?' \n'Perhaps the pirates got her to this island and then killed her, too?' \n'No, Stephanos. If \nshe were buried on this islet, the dog would dig \nup her body. If \nshe were dead in the sea, he would be moaning at the \nwater's edge. The dog is not grieving. Doris was here as cook. She \nthen went away, on some other errand, without her pet. Her job of \nwatching us was over.' \n'And other watchers on the journey?' \n'Philokhoros is a puzzle. He may have been trying to do us some \ngood. Or perhaps he was merely the agent of a rival party, and both \nhe and Doris were seeking to do us ill, in different ways.' \n'And in that case, Doris' party got rid of him. Philokhoros got \nthrown into a pigpen. I suppose he is still searching for Sosios, his \nrunaway boy. It is a long time since we have seen anything of those \npeople. Delos.' \n'Yes. But almost immediately after Philokhoros was no longer with \nus, in Naxos, Doris the efficient agent got rid of \nAiskhines and put us \nin care of Captain Nikias. A pirate by profession. Now Nikias has \nmade clear his intentions on that journey. What fools we were! We \nshould have noticed his men's peculiar alertness regarding the \ndamaged big ship that we came across, and their disappointment that \nthey couldn't take it. They were still indignant about it when we \narrived in Kos - about that and I suppose about our walking off in \ngood health, so they lost their fee. Mere suspicion led me to take the \nvaluable precaution of \ntelling an acquaintance where I was. Yet, once \narrived safely in Kos, I foolishly forgot my suspicions of \nNikias.' \n'And in Kos,' I continued, 'we had other things to think of, \nincluding young Parmenion. Then we were led on the journey to \nHarpalos, so you could see your nephew -' \n372 \n\n\nESCAPE \n'An interesting but costly journey that has proved to be! You \nremember, Nikias said some men in Athens would be glad that I was \nrendered more \"reasonable\". That statement gives me pause. It \nwould be so much easier to negotiate with Nikias if \nhe were acting on \nhis own. There is no reason to doubt that he indeed has contact with \nsomeone ofimponance in Athens - directly, or indirectly. The centre \nof \nthe plot must be Athenian.' \nI arose, restlessly twitching my chain. 'Come,' I said impatiently. \n'Let us walk. We have so little time before those sailors come back. \nThey seem to have become quite confident now, leaving us alone for \nlarge periods of \ntime.' \n'I think they don't trust Menestor,' said Aristotle, getting up stiffly. \n'And they don't like to risk letting anyone individual among them \nhear our conversation. They are not so confident that they leave oars \nin their ships; they always take them out and guard them.' \n'Except,' I responded, 'for the man who is so keen a fisherman and \nkeeps those octopodes and so on. He is sometimes a little careless.' \n'Pirates often fall out among themselves,' Aristotle observed. 'I was \nhoping these men might do so, but I have seen no opening.' \nUnhappily we paced the seashore in the autumn light, as the sun \nslid down the western horizon. 'Watch out for sea-urchins,' Aristotle \nwarned, as we crunched along the foreshore. 'Many are poisonous, \nand if \none of \nthe stinging spines gets into your foot you will be in pain \nbefore it works its own way out.' \n'I know it from childhood,' I said feelingly. \n'A number of Testacea have this system of protection, as insects \nhave their sting.' Aristotle seemed happy talking about his animal \ncategories once more. 'The hard matter or spine is all outside, in \ncontrast to us mammals who have the hard matter at the centre of \nthe \nbody, the way modellers built figures of clay upon a hard core. The \nlittle sea-urchin has the best defence system of all shellfish. A fine \npalisade of \nstakes. Interesting - no creature is without some strength. \nThe cuttlefish, our Sepia, can confuse its enemies by the dark ink it \n373 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF UFE \nsquirts when frightened, evidently with the same involuntary ease as \nmen urinate under the same circumstances. Interesting creatures.' \nWe moved cautiously along the tide-dampened beach, looking at \nthe detritus that the sea spume leaves. Worm-casts and bivalves. \nEmpty shells and strips of seaweed. Little stones and some small \npieces of pottery, even some little pieces of once-valuable glass, \npolished hard by the sea. A large piece of \npainted pottery, laced with \nworm holes. A rotten piece of planking. An oar, broken at the \nhandle ... \n'An oar!' I seized it and on an impulse hid it under my cloak. That \ncloak was already disreputable and dirty from our outdoor sleeping \nbut it had not gone into holes yet, so the oar was momentarily safe \nfrom sight. \n'An oar,' repeated Aristotle. 'An important but fragile object. Ifwe \nthink of any escape, we must try for it soon. Not long hence, the \npirates will decide to go off this island and they will take me - us -\nwith them. They were shocked by their own killings, I think, and then \ndecided to await the poor pilgrim's natural death and then bury him. \nBut this island is too full of bodies. They yearn to depart. They will \nfinish the poor man's dying for him and take us away. They will hope \nto get me to talk on the mainland, near where they imagine Harpalos' \nhoard must be.' \nIt occurred to me that Aristotle was optimistic in talking of the \npirates taking 'us'. So much more likely that it would be Aristotle \nalone who would be taken off \nin a boat, while I made one of \nthe bodies \nburied in the sands of \nthis islet. The prospect made me more alert. \n'We must get free enough of movement to seize a ship,' I said \nfirmly. 'And then we can use this oar to take ourselves off. To be sure, \nthey would be after us right away -' \n'My plan includes taking one of these vessels,' said Aristotle, 'The \nsecond smallest, if we can. Not the very smallest.' Neither of us \nwanted to say we could not bear the smallest ship as it was the site of \nthe worst of \nthe murders. We never spoke of \nthat event. \n374 \n\n\nESCAPE \n'That smallest ship is the one that the fisherman-sailor uses all the \ntime for fishing, anyway,' I remarked. 'It has his tackle in it, and he \nkeeps live fish and octopodes there also. In a net like a bag hung over \nthe side, so that if he needs a meal he can take one without going \nfishing again.' \n'Yes. That figures also in my plan,' said Aristotle. 'You and I - we \ncouldn't handle the largest ship at all. The second ship handles well \nin the water, I've noticed. We might just about get it to move. It \nseems a forlorn project, but let me explain my plan. You must \npromise not to be hungry, for it entails a night offasting.' \nHe told me the details of it as the sunset colours began to spread \nacross the sky. \nThe pirates had not eaten their main meal yet, and we had been able \nto smell the stew cooking all the time we were in conversation. We \nstarted back down the track, in the direction of \nthe main camp, though \nof \ncourse we couldn't go there in our bonds. One of \nthe men could be \nheard advancing, bearing some food for us. It was only some tired \nbread, and thin soup abstracted from the beginnings of the rich stew. \n'Thank you,' said Aristotle politely. 'But, no. I should feel better if \nwe were able to share of \nthe dish you are all going to eat. I can smell \nit.' \nMenestor - for it was he -laughed loudly. 'So - you now suspect \nus of \npoisoning you, do you? Let me tell you, we're not done with you \nyet, old secret-keeper. Nikias knows a trick worth two of \nthat. But for \ntonight - !' The Theban slave uncoupled our chains from their \nmooring. \n'You can trot along to the camp,' he said. 'A little exercise will do \nyour old bones good. There you can see this fish stew you hanker \nafter. Beg for a fish, like a pet duck! Though now you two look like \ntwo asses, being driven, or two naughty steeds. Holla!' \nLaughing at this image, he drove us like a charioteer in playful \nhurry to the place where the men were gathered around the fire. \nAristotle went slowly, after Menestor tied the end of \nthe chain. The \n375 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nphilosopher circled about the cooking-pot peering into it: 'Aha,' he \nmuttered, as some old gentlemen do in the kitchen. 'Here we have \ncrayfish and some white fish, and some shellfish mixed together. I \nsuppose it's very hot - ' and he stretched his hand over the pot to feel \nthe steam. \n'Dainty, aren't we?' said Nikias. 'Never mind, since you're \nbecoming peevish about eating your own meals, you can mess from \nthe common plate. I don't mind, this once.' \n'There's fish enough,' said the fisherman with his mouth full. This \nwas the man who kept octopodes and crayfish and other things in a \nnet bag. 'Now we have to cook for ourselves all the time, but the \nfood's good.' \nAristotle and I were helped with platefuls in the coarse wooden \ndishes (each a slightly hollowed piece of tree).We were given a \nreasonable amount, and the fish smelt so good it was a little difficult \nnot to be tempted. Following Aristotle's lead, I pretended to touch my \nstew, munched at nothing with my eyes on the sky, and tipped some \nsurreptitiously into the sand. The lame dog came in for his share. \nNothing happened for a long time after this. We sat quietly. The \nmen, replete, belched and dozed. Then Menestor got up in a hurry \nand ran frantically into the bushes. Unpleasant sounds ensued. This \nwas followed by a similar fast trot on the part of another pirate, who \nseemed in even more dire straits. The place began to smell really \nbad. Tipped off \nby Aristotle, I stumbled offinto the bushes, dragging \nthe chain, and did a good imitation of sickness. So much excrement \nfrom both ends was now lying about in the retired spot in the bushes \nthat it would not be easy for anyone to swear I had not been ill. \nAristotle promptly followed suit. Nobody thought to secure our \nchains again. The little dog had gone off already - to be sick \nsomewhere on its own, I surmised. Inwardly I hoped it choked to \ndeath on its vomit. Time passed numbered by groans and upheavals. \nThe men then snored uneasily in unpleasant sleep, wakening to be \nsick once more. \n376 \n\n\nESCAPE \nAristotle and I watched the sky impatiently. At last the thin stripe \nof silvery light was followed by a firmer indication of a dawn. 'Now,' \nAristotle whispered and, picking up our chains, we moved off to the \nplace where the boats were beached. The men had shipped and \nguarded the oars but Aristotle found one left by the careless \nfisherman in the smallest vessel. I had my almost-good oar with me \nunder my cloak. Furiously I pushed at the middle-sized ship, and \nheard with relief its crunching slide back into the water. We hopped \naboard, unhandily, as we had to carry a weight of \nchain. Aristotle had \npaused to pick up the bag of fishes danging from the end of the \nsmallest boat. The philosopher also had to arrange some other \nproperty where he thought it would do the most good. \n'om' I said in an urgent but low voice, and we cast off. We were \nnot best equipped for an expedition by sea. Although I had practised \nfor fun with the men in our island-hopping days, I was the least skilful \nrower that could be found - except for Aristotle. But we had a strong \nwill to succeed and strove mightily at our oars. \nI had hoped that our departure might go unnoted, but that was too \ngood to expect. We made enough noise and splashing to arouse even \nthe sleepy and sickly pirates. The two strongest and youngest, the \nsailors who had gone out with us and Nikias that first day, came \nrunning (staggering, rather) down the beach. \n'Ho!' they shouted. 'Come back, you! We'll make you sorry you \ntried such a trick!' \n'Just going for some fresh air,' Aristotle explained in his usual calm \nand reasonable tone. \n'We're coming to get you! You'll be sorry!' they cried, but not as \nloudly or ferociously as they might have done before their dinner. In \nthe dawn light we could see them clearly - the tall sailor and the other \none - as they prepared to come and get us. For the sake of \nspeed they \nsimply dived in and swam out to us, not stopping to release one of \ntheir own boats. Of course, these were Nikias' 'dolphins'. \n'Are you ready?' Aristotle asked me. I was excited rather than \n377 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nready, but we got our ammunition where we wanted it and kept the \nboat from rocking too hard. \n'Ho - won't you suffer for this! But it will be better if \nyou give up -\nnow!' cried the tall sailor, who was the first to reach our craft. He \ngrabbed the boat firmly. We could see his face below us as he was \nabout to board. Aristotle was not attending. He was reaching into a \nnet. Then quickly and cleverly he scooped out the largest octopus \namong the captives and splatted it against the face and throat of this \nman, who was still in the water and just about to rise from it. The \noctopus threw about its tentacles and wrapped itself around the face, \nhead and neck of the would-be boarder. He screamed but his scream \nwas muffled by the octopus which had given him a new face. \nMeanwhile, despite my flailing about with the oar as a weapon, the \nsecond man had swung his feet over. I made sure our cavalry-stoppers \nwere laid just where he was going to step. He put his foot down on a \nsea-urchin and then on another. He let out a yelp and then a yell. 'Ai! \nAi - eel' He was just distracted enough to allow me to hit him on the \nhead, then to push at his knees and toss him overboard. The victim \nof sea-urchins wasn't much help to his companion, who was still \ncrying for liberation from the terrified octopus. Aristotle let fly a \nvolley of sea creatures at the pair in the water, wrapping more \noctopodes around them and loosening upon them some terrified \ncuttlefish, which made a nice discharge of sepia. Then we pushed \nwith our oars and went off as rapidly as we could. \nThis was not very rapidly. We were awkward and uneven rowers, \nand even had we been good there were only two of us. We were not \nused to keeping time. I called out a keleusma. The broken end of \nthe \noar handle cut into my hand, and my hamstrings strained. My weak \nshoulder (the one that had been thrown out as a result of a fall in the \nmountains) began to protest. I can only imagine what Aristotle must \nhave felt, a man by no means in his youth, troubled with sciatica and \nquite unaccustomed to such efforts. Yet he laboured at his oar, \nuncomplaining. The good thing was that we could see a distance \n378 \n\n\nESCAPE \nbetween us and the islet. We tried to calculate a course and make for \nthe mainland, but although we could see this shore dimly, it now \nseemed an enormous distance away. \n'A sail! A large vessel under sail!' Aristotle was first to spy this \nphenomenon. A vessel with many rowers was almost bearing down \nupon us. I wondered if it were possible to avoid it - it might not be \nfriendly. But the ship came relentlessly on, despite our best efforts, \nand it gained on us steadily. 'That's no merchant vessel,' I said, \nwatching it. 'She moves too rapidly.' \nAristotle had to give up and gasp; leaning on his oar, he watched \nthe ship's swift advance upon us. 'Either this brings friends of the \npirates, come to see how they are,' he wheezed, 'and we are lost. Or \nit is a normal government ship, and we may be saved.' \nAs the ship came on, we could see it bore all the earmarks of \na smart \nand well-disciplined naval vessel. It was a trireme, well painted and \nmoving at speed. At last, we could make out the individual oarsmen. \n'We have to cry out so they don't run us over,' said Aristotle. \n'They're too close.' He let out a call. Just then we were able to make \nout the faces of the little group of men standing at the prow of the \nship, scanning the water. As one of them, presumably the captain, \nreplied to Aristotle's hail, I recognised the man standing next to him. \n'Philokhoros!' I exclaimed in amazement. \nAnd it was Philokhoros. The oars stopped at his command. He was \nvisibly giving orders at a terrific rate, and telling the captain how to \nattach our vessel to theirs. \n'We're sending two men to help you,' Philokhoros yelled. \n'You have to send a file with them!' Aristotle yelled back. 'We are \nin chains. Most inconvenient. A file, please!' \nAfter some active searching in the naval ship to find a file (the ship's \ncarpentry store yielded one), two active sailors boarded our fishy ship. \nAfter freeing us from our chains, they helped us to grab hold of \na rope \nthrown from the large vessel, so we could be swung quickly up and \naboard the trireme. \n379 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'At last 1 find you!' cried Philokhoros, joyfully embracing us. He \nkissed each of us on both cheeks. Tears came to his eye. 'I have \nsought you so long,' he explained. 'And 1 failed - oh, terribly, stupidly \nfailed! - in my mission. 1 \nwas supposed to take care of \nyou. 1 promised \nAntipater himself! would do so. But my boy - my beautiful boy! How \ncould 1 fail to search for him?' \n'And,' said Aristotle, a trifle drily, 'you were a private gentleman, \nnot someone anybody could order about, like a soldier in the army. \nYou were free to use your time as you deemed best.' \n'Exactly. Not that 1 didn't fully intend to act for Antipater. My \nbeing a private gentleman was a distfnct advantage to the very task he \nwished me to perform. But there 1 was, so foolishly trapped in \nMykonos, to my shame. And 1 still needed to look for poor lost \nSosios. Only for a little while.' \n'So you tried to come back to us? Picked up the scent again, as it \nwere?' \n'Yes. Resigned at last to the loss of my poor boy, 1 indeed started \nlooking for you. At last 1 got to Kos and picked up the story of \nyour \ntravel to Asia. Your failure to return left me alarmed. 1 went to \nHalikarnassos with this ship. At the military post there we first heard \nthat the man who conducted you to Phase \nlis, one Peleus, had \ndisappeared. Unnerving, as you can imagine. But then 1 got your \nmessage - the word you left with a tripe-and-pickled-fish-seller in the \nharbour at Halikarnassos. Though 1 was not entirely sure what to \nmake of \nit. But we set out to search for a sailor-captain called Nikias.' \n'I shall be delighted,' said Aristotle, 'to hear your side of \nour story. \nBut not now. We have to go and save a life. A poor pilgrim, hideously \nabused by the pirates, lies on the point of \ndeath on a little islet not far \nfrom here. They committed a terrible murder before our eyes, such \nas will darken your own eyes to hear. The islet is full of dead bodies \nand living pirates. They have held us prisoner for an unknown length \nof time. Rescue the pilgrim - punish the pirates! And perhaps 1 can \nalso recover the remains of \nKallisthenes' manuscript.' \n380 \n\n\nESCAPE \n* \nThe ship went eagerly on at our direction. It took no time at all to \narrive at the island. It seemed to take longer to beach the immense \ncraft. I don't know what I had expected would happen then - simply, \nI suppose, that the leading men on the trireme would take the pirates \ninto custody and we could all go away. But the clearing was deserted. \nOf \ncourse the pirates had had sufficient time to see the ship from afar. \nHad they gone already? Yet surely we should have seen their ships as \nwe advanced upon the islet? Curtly selecting a gang of armed \nmariners to comb the island, the naval captain ordered the others to \nstay in the vessel, ready for instant departure. 'Take 'em alive, if \nyou \ncan,' ordered Philokhoros, who seemed to have unusual powers given \nhim on this expedition. \nWith Aristotle and myself acting as guides, we all hurried to the \nother side of the island. To our surprise we found the criminal group \n- or most of \nthem - at the beach where Aristotle and I had been held \ncaptive. I suppose all these men had been somewhat sluggish because \nof their induced illness. They had not been able to give chase to us, \nor to make an expeditious departure once they knew we had got away. \nTheir two remaining ships they must have picked up and moved \nacross the narrow island, hoping to depart unseen, out of view of the \nwarship. The smallest pirate keles was upon the water already. The \nlargest, the Nike itself, was beached still but ready to depart; its prow \nrested on the sand, but the stern swayed on the light waves of the \nshallows. Men were loading objects into her: they nearly dropped a \nfamiliar handsome wooden box. Among the objects successfully \ncarried aboard was the body of the unfortunate pilgrim. The pirates \nashore were frantically yelling to their fellows at sea urging them to \nspeed away. Our trireme's captain ordered one of \nhis men to run back \nto the naval vessel and tell it to give chase to the pirates' small ship. \nThe rest of \nus continued to advance through the thorn bushes to the \ncove. \n'Enemy approach!' yelled Nikias, one of \nthe group by the Nike. He \n381 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nbrandished a sword. Most of the pirates were armed. But when they \nsaw our party advancing the pirate sailors tried to flee by jumping into \ntheir boat. They were a little less agile than usual; not only did they \nhave the spoils of war to pack aboard, but they were also trying to \nhandle both weapons and oars. \nWe rushed up to them. The men of the trireme - the captain, \nPhilokhoros, and a select party - were well armed. We should have let \nthese men deal with the enemy, but we were carried away. I think I \nfelt blood-lust for the first time. Aristotle, stimulated by the sight of \nthe container of Kallisthenes' precious manuscript, lost his dis-\ncretion. 'Stop! Stop! Give me that box!' he shouted. With great vigour \nhe ran splashing through the shallow sandy water up to the ship, his \nhands outstretched. He thus ran directly into danger: one of the \npirate sailors, a big man, grabbed him by the hand and held a javelin \nto his throat. This man called to one of his mates to assist him and \nthey seized Aristotle and dragged him aboard the ship. A useful \nhostage, Aristotle was a captive once more. \nI had forgotten that I was not armed at all, and the pirates were. In \nmy enthusiasm I overstepped the mark, grabbing the boat to stop it \nfrom leaving. I felt only that I must prevent them from carrying off \nAristotle. I did distract the big man, who turned towards me his \nattention and his javelin (actually a cut-off spear with a heavy point). \nHad he succeeded in putting that point through my throat as he \nintended, I should have looked my last upon the light then and there. \nBut I wrestled with him and his arm skidded, as it were, so that he \nthrust his weapon deeply into my left shoulder. I could even hear the \nnoise it made, grinding at the side of \nthe bone. \nThere was a hot sharp pain. I felt as all of \nme were pierced through. \nI lost my footing and dropped into the shallow water, which was now \na confusion of legs and feet and oars and sandy splashings. Near me \nI saw, or sensed, a man, or parts of \na live man - an arm, a hand, a foot \n- a man appearing and disappearing into the churning sand. An \nincomplete man in his death throes. I was able to move out of \nthe way \n382 \n\n\nESCAPE \na little, crawling like a crab on my good arm and hand. The presence \nof the javelin as an attachment was inconvenient. I worked at getting \nit out of my body. All I could hear were shouts. Curses - groans -\ncries. A splash! A wooden box flew away from the boat, hurled into \nthe deep. Another splash. Aristotle jumping - or falling - into the \nwater. I don't now how it \nmay be in a real military battle, but I expect \nit is something like that, a vigorous and deadly confusion. Although \nthe captain of \nthe trireme and Philokhoros too had wanted to take the \nleading pirates alive, our enemies were putting up a desperate fight. \nIt was obvious that they (rightly) had no belief that mercy might be \naccorded them. \nMore cries. A lesser splash near me. Someone had dropped a \nsword. I grabbed it with my good hand - at first just to take control \nof it so that I should not cut me, rather than for any higher purpose. \nI struggled to my feet, desiring just not to be drowned in the \ntrampling. Still holding the sword, I saw a confusion of \nbodies around \nthe Nike. I saw Aristotle, saturated and dripping, scrambling to his \nfeet with a piece of \nseaweed on his head. The others were all occupied \nin fighting. \nTwo of the pirate men had ceased to struggle. I was thinking that \nit must be nearly over. But it was not. Menestor loomed, angry and \nlike one invincible, over the fray. Having seized a superior foothold \n(standing on a dead body within the boat) he raised his sword and \nslashed violently down on one of \nour naval party, a man who was just \nabout to kill Nikias. With a dreadful cry and groan, our man fell to \nthe Theban's blow. Menestor looked hungrily about for another \nenemy. \nGiven this respite, Nikias suddenly jumped overboard, landing \nalmost next to me. He held a sword and he was glaring at Aristotle, \nwho stood there, harmless, unarmed, and dripping. \n'You! Old man - you are the cause of \nall my trouble!' he shouted in \nrapid angry cry. 'By the gods, you shall not outlive this day either! I \ntake you to Hades with me - and now!' \n383 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF UFE \nHis sword was about to descend on the unarmed philosopher. But \nI was not unarmed, through the mercy of \nFortune and the help of \nthe \ngods. I struck just once - clumsily but effectively - at the man's neck. \nNikias dropped with an expression of great surprise. He was not yet \ndead - I saw recognition in his eyes as he realised what had happened. \nBlood gushed out of the side of his throat. I tried to pull my sword \nloose. I remembered that someone once told me that a sword sticks \nnear the bone, and I found this to be true The blade had bitten into \nhis neck bone and was reluctant to let go. My strength was not great, \nand my own pain and the weakness from the javelin wound were so \nsevere that I began to crumble. I might have submerged again had I \nnot been caught by Philokhoros. \nBy the time I revived, the thing was over. Menestor was the last of \nthe enemy party to die: he had killed one of our men and seriously \ninjured another. Our enemies had been hampered by fighting in a \nconfined space, and striking each other. The little ship was full of \ndead bodies; a good deal of \nwater had got into it and now surged back \nand forth over the bottom of the vessel - water that looked red, so \nmuch blood had been mixed with it. Six pirates lay dead within the \nvessel, and three on the beach. And Menestor. At the orders of the \ntrireme captain, our rescuers made sure that each pirate in the ship \nwas dead before being tossed overboard, and then that all other \ncontents were taken out of the ship. \nThis wealth in this ship, Nikias' hoard, included most of \nthe gold \nhe had taken from us, as well as things that we did not recognise, such \nas some finely chased silver cups, presumably from another expedi-\ntion. Lodged beneath one of the thwarts under a rower's bench, a \ngold object glinted through the bloody water. Not a coin, but a gold \nknucklebone. This I kept to myself. I carefully thrust it to the bottom \nof \nmy scuffed leather bag as soon as I found that piece of \nbaggage. \nTo their credit, the men of Philokhoros' group did not linger now \nover their new-found treasure. Following the order of their com-\nmander, a group of \nthem got into the bloody boat and seized the oars \n384 \n\n\nESCAPE \nwith professional skill. They went off at a brisk pace to overtake their \nmates in the large ship pursuing the departing pirate craft. That little \nship, which first delayed by watching the beginning of the fight, had \nmade off in great haste when the trireme was visibly in pursuit. The \ngreat ship of \nwar had now nearly caught up with the small vessel. As \nwe gazed, two figures on the retreating pirate ship rose up, tall and \nblack against the sky, and then dived off \nthe end of \nit. I could not see \ntheir faces, but I knew these were Nikias' 'dolphins'. Dolphins swim-\nming home in their element, escaping the fate that awaited the others. \n'Don't worry,' said Philokhoros. 'Our men will get them. They are \ndone for.' \nPhilokhoros was now in command of the group on land, as our \ncaptain had gone off in the small boat to support the trireme. He \nefficiently took charge of the remaining contingent of the rescue \nparty. At his orders they lined up the bodies neatly on the beach, \nincluding Nikias, and Menestor who looked angry and brave even in \ndeath, and terribly young. I gazed on the dead face of \nNikias whom I \nhad killed, remembering his cheerful glance, and how glad we had \nbeen to see him the first time we met him. This man had been living \n- breathing - planning - talking - but a very short time ago. Now I \nhad put a stop to all of that. It seemed almost unthinkable, but the \nfact lay there calmly on the sand. \n'Ho - look here!' one of the sailors announced, pausing over a \ncorpse. 'This one is not dead!' \n'Oh!' I said. 'How could we have forgotten? That is the poor \npilgrim - so terribly beaten, and left for dead.' \n'He wasn't dead,' said Philokhoros. 'Likely they were taking him \nalong with them as a hostage.' \n'Give me some water,' said Aristotle. He went over to the man and \ngave him some moisture on the lips. To our surprise, a weak voice \nspoke out of \nthe body that had seemed corpse-like for a long time. \n'Are they gone?' \n'Yes,' said Aristotle. 'All gone. Except that some of them need to \n385 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nbe buried right here. And we need to set up a little hospital for the \nwounded - for you, and my friend Stephanos here.' \nAristotle attended to my wound, making Philokhoros find some \nwine and vinegar to wash it with. He also attended to the injured \nsailors, including the one whose right arm had been badly hacked \nwith Menestor's sword. \n'Burials next,' said Philokhoros. 'Best to be tidy. Minimum of \nrites \nand prayers, but at least it will keep the beach clean. See if \nthere are \nany others.' \nHis crew began to dig in the sandy soil, except for two men who \nwere sent on a tour of inspection. 'May 1 come with you?' Aristotle \nasked this pair. 'I have an idea as to where we may find another body \n- one 1 badly want to find,' he added. His idea was right. They came \nback shortly, with the remains of \nthe child Philokleia. Her poor little \nbody was badly nibbled by fish, but still recognisable. \n'I thought,' said Aristotle, 'that her corpse would have drifted into \nthat side current, and been held against the snag further down. And \nso it has proved. Let us give her a decent burial, and in honour to the \ndead atone for our failure to preserve her alive.' \nAnd so it was. Philokleia was buried, not with the ugly pirates but in \nher own place, where we also interred the remains of \nher mother. We \nall said prayers over the site. Aristotle placed in the child's mouth as a \nfee for Kharon the most beautiful silver coin in the bags of \nHarpalos. \nHarpalos' money (or most of it) had been recovered. 9ur plants \nwere of course gone, and the box of Kallisthenes proved unfindable. \nPerhaps it had been weighted with stones so if lost it would sink for \never, buried in the depth of \nthe sea. The trireme had soon returned, \ntowing the pirates' small ship. The naval men had killed the pirates \non board her, and recovered property. But the two 'dolphins' had \nescaped. 'Perhaps Poseidon will take them himself,' said the captain. \nHe assembled us and all of \nthe things taken from the pirates, and we \nset out for Kos in the big confident ship, leaving at last the island of \nbloodshed and woe. \n386 \n\n\nXXII \n==~9~~e== \nd'-\"G\" \nHealing and Light \nI know little of that short journey to Kos. I fell into a kind of stupor \nfor a while, and then became aware of being most disagreeably \naffected by the movement of the boat underneath me. When I did \nawaken, everything appeared larger than normal, curiously bright or \ncuriously dark. The sound of the keleusma battered my soul. It \nseemed better to go to sleep. I was very hot, and sometimes quite \ncold. Rats gnawed at my left shoulder and chest; I kept trying to beat \nthem off, and they turned into an octopus that hissed and dug its \ngiant tooth into me. Then a small child in a cowl came and waved the \nherbs he carried at the sea-creature, and it \nwent away. I knew who this \ncowled figure was - Telesophoros, helper of \nAsklepios. I slept. When \nI awakened, I was in a bed and nothing was moving, for which I was \ngrateful. It was obviously daytime. I tried to get up and found that I \nhad a large mound of cloth on my left side. I tried to tear it off, as if \nit were fetters. \n'Hssh - it's all right.' Aristotle's face appeared, looming large above \nmy bed. 'You were wounded, you know - those are bandages. You \nare in Iatrokles' house, under excellent care.' \n'Who takes my name?' asked the physician, stepping into my view. \n387 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \n'You are doing well, young man, you have an excellent constitution. \nBut despite the efforts of \nour friend here' - nodding at Aristotle - 'your \nwound was not clean. Sandy, I call it. So we had to clean it out again, \ngoing in deeply. Then we wanted you to sleep, and regain strength.' \n'Aristotle did try to wash the wound,' I said, defending him, 'but \nwe were not in the best place to do that.' \n'You are fortunate,' said latrokles. 'You will probably always feel \nthe effects of it, but you are very lucky. Had your enemy struck \nslightly to your right, just a very little distance further into the torso, \nhis spear point would have rammed through the heart or lung. There \nwould have been nothing any doctor could do. And if \nhe had in hand \na good sarissa -!' \n'I suppose,' Aristotle speculated, 'the man who struck you was \nhampered by fighting at close quarters. A spear or javelin works best \nat some distance. He would have been a better fighter with more \nroom.' \n'You sound sorry for him!' I snapped. \n'No, not at all. You saved my life, Stephanos. I am deeply grateful \n- your debtor for all time, as I can never really repay such a gift. I have \nnothing to give that could -' \n'I'd like some soup,' I declared. \n'Hungry?' asked latrokles. 'A good symptom. It is long enough \nsince you had the wound - three days. I think a little soup would be \nin order.' \n'Three days!' I was surprised at losing time in that spendthrift \nfashion. But when I drank the soup I soon fell heavily into sleep again. \nYet the next day I stayed awake longer, and by the fifth day I declared \nmyself \nwell, and got out of \nbed. Aristotle looked greatly relieved when \nI was able to join him in the front of the house, dressed properly, \nthough still with the great bandage. \n'Thanks he to the gods you are going to be all right. It would have \nbeen a dreadful exchange if \nyour life had been given for mine, a young \nfor an old. I don't know how I could have lived with that.' \n388 \n\n\nHEAl.lNG AND LIGHT \n'We should sacrifice a cock to Asklepios,' I said. 'I am grateful to \nmy doctors. But I would like to think I knew exactly what has been \nhappening to me - to us - and I don't. I notice you are not staying \nwith Oromedon. Is that just because I am here?' \n'That is my excuse.' Aristotle's look darkened. 'Certainly I am not \nstaying with Oromedon. It is quite comfortable here, and my slave \nPhokon is here now also. Tomorrow Philokhoros will join us, and we \nshall endeavour to piece together some of these events. But you and \nI should have a talk first.' \nWhile I was reluctantly preparing in my foggy mind for a \ndiscussion, latrokles entered the room. He extended an object to me. \nA battered pair of \nwooden tablets. \n'This will make you feel better, I hope. A letter from Athens, by \nway of Naxos. I asked at the harbour for all letters to you or to \nAristotle to be sent here, and a messenger just brought this.' \nThe letter bore on the outside the superscription of address to me \nin care of Aristodamos of Naxos. It had been forwarded to Kos. I \nopened the tablets and read the writing on the wax: \nTo my dear and honoured Brother Stephanos \nGreetings to you from Th and I trust you are well. \nWe were attacked in Smikrenes' house but all are well. \nThrasymakhos'men. Moloss bravest and best. Smik to law \nPhilemon very brave we guard. \nMother's love now to Phi Come soon \nFarewell \nI read this over twice before I fully took it in. With a violent twinge \nof heart I realised what it told me - that my own hapless family, the \ndear ones left behind, had been attacked. Even on that peaceful farm \nnear Eleusis. \n'Look at this!' I forced the letter under Aristotle's nose. 'I have to \ngo home at once! My family is in danger. Thrasymakhos - that \n389 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \npompous unsmiling man! - he is the source of \ntrouble. I suspected it \nwas his slaves I glimpsed running away, after the horse's head was \ndeposited on my herro. But I wasn't sure. Now I know. Agents of \noutrages - which were plotted by Thrasymakhos.' \n'Among others, most probably - not alone.' \n'And that other letter was a forgery of \nmy brother's real letter, with \nsome parts left as they were. See here!' \n'Ah-ah.'Aristotle studied the new document intently. 'The real \nletter sent by Theodoros. That young man will go far. He had the wit \nto send the same letter twice - once to the address you had given him \nin Naxos and again to the address in Kos. And this epistle tells us how \nand where the other letter was tampered with. The forgery took place \nin the Aegean, most likely in Kos - not in Athens.' \n'Had I only got the real letter in time,' I groaned, 'I should have \nheaded straight back home, and not gone flitting about Asia and \nlooking for trouble.' \n'But you did not get the real letter in time. Someone took great care \nthat you should not. Nor did they wish you not to receive any letter \nat all, in case anxiety over your family caused you to decline further \nventures eastward. In that case, I too might not have remained in \nKos, nor gone to Asia.' \n'Oromedon,' I said. 'Oromedon gave me a false letter. Or rather, it \nhad been the real letter, but got altered. Kallisthenes told me it is \nquite easy to do that - you can even forge just part of \na message, if \nyou \nhave the right smooth iron and a good steady hand.' \n'Precisely. Now you deduce that our friend in Naxos is honest and \nour friend in Kos is not.' \n'But the letter - the forged letter,' I puzzled on. 'It doesn't sound \nlike Oromedon's pompous style. Would he have the wit to quote \nHesiod? I can say nothing of the handwriting, for the hand was \nimitating that of \nTheodoros, but the manner of \nthe letter was not like \nOromedon. Could it be Diophantos? Or Menestor?' \n'You are perspicacious. Not Oromedon's style - true. Someone \n390 \n\n\nHEALING AND LIGHT \nother than Oromedon forged the letter, though presumably \nOromedon knew the forgery had taken place. You remember how \nanxious he was to act as a soothing interpreter?' \n'I suppose it is unlikely that Diophantos or Menestor would have \nbeen called upon just to forge a letter. And Nikias quoted to us those \nlines of Hesiod - which he must have heard recited by someone else \nrecently.' \n'Exactly. No reason he should have known of \nthe forged letter, but \nhe had recently been in company with the the Hesiod-quoter. And he \nlet out, before he thought, that it \nwasn't Diophantos who had recited \nthose verses to him, but another. We know something else now, too. \nAn actively hostile agency in Athens has something to do with \nThrasymakhos. A well-born man with good connections, some sayan \norator. Not a lout. Yet his servants were rharrying your family in \nEleusis.' \n'This is terrible! How can I know that my family are all right! - for \nthe time when this letter was sent is now some weeks ago.' \n'Theodoros' real letter,' Aristotle observed, 'indicates that \nSmikrenes has sworn out a charge against the servants of \nThrasymakhos. That should put a sufficient stop to them at least for \na while. It ought to occur to Philemon to do so as well. A pity your \ncousin has not written to you -' \n'Philemon was never one for writing letters,' I said. 'Not even when \nhe was in exile and Aunt Eudoxia was so worried. He hates writing. \nAnd Smikrenes isn't much better. I am surprised - and pleased - that \nmy future father-in-law has sufficient Athenian spirit to prosecute a \nlaw case. But I think he dislikes letters and documents because he \nwrites badly.' \n'Well then, you must cultivate Theodoros, who seems a boy of \nunusual intelligence. Theodoros has covered the main points. At \nleast, to him his dog is a main point. Let us hope that your enemy -\nand mine - is a rational being who knows he has overreached himself \nin this unnecessary attack upon Smikrenes' house. But we now have \n391 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nevidence that we did not possess before. Let me see if I can make it \nout.' \nHe propped his chin in his hands and stared into space for a little \ntime. \n'I seem to see Athens before me in its deep divisions,' he said after \na while. 'We know that here are pro-Makedon and anti-Make \ndon \nparties. There are divisions even within these divisions - between the \ndemocrats, who want a continuation or expansion of the rule of the \npeople, and the oligarkhs, who want to go back to the rule of a few \nvery rich and very well-born men. \n'Many of \nthe poorer sort actually prefer Makedonian rule, seeing it \nas a means of checking the aspirations of the wealthy and powerful. \nSome of \nthese are vociferous supporters of \nMakedon, arousing the ire \nof certain Aristos. Some of the older and wealthier families see any \nfavour to Makedon as treachery, and as an impediment to their \nelevation. But of \ncourse there are many rich and powerful people who \nprosper under Alexander and quite like Makedonian rule - as long as \nit remains indirect.' \n'Athens will always be independent!' I interjected indignantly. \n'Athens must remain free!' \n'I agree with you, Stephanos. But what do we mean by \"free\"? A \ncity, a society, is held together by the spirit of the whole. By its \nconstitution, which organises it and gives it life - as an animal has a \nconstitution which permits all its parts to function well and the entity \nto survive and thrive. Iatrokles says you have \"an excellent \nconstitution\". So does Athens. In a man's physical body, part is \nunlikely to fight against part and ruin its constitution, but that is very \nlikely to happen in the artificial body of the city-state. Who among all \nthese men is going to be free to do what he wills? Difficult times we \nlive in.' He drew his chair closer to mine. 'Now, together let us \nreconstruct the strange events of \nthe summer.' \n'First,' I said, 'fragments of animals are left on the herms or \ndoorways of people sympathetic to Makedon.' \n392 \n\n\nHEALING AND LIGHT \n'True. But what gave someone the idea? At the festival of the \nBouphonia, attended by so many whom we know, an animal is \nceremonially killed and parts of it adorn our city. Soon after, as you \nsay, fragments of \nanimals insultingly desecrate the entryways of \nmany \nhouses. Including, at last, my own.' \n'And mine!' I reminded Aristotle of the hideous episode of the \nhorse's head. \n'You ought, Stephanos,' he teased, 'to consider that the Black \nDemeter of Arkadia has as her emblem a horse's head. In some \nregions it might be a compliment, I suppose.' \n'Kallias' poor monkey was cut up for your benefit,' I retorted. 'Do \nyou see that as a compliment? Poor Kallias, so fond of \nhis animal- he \nsurely had nothing to do with slaughtering it that way.' \n'No, no. I imagine Kallias still mourns his lost monkey. Kallias is \nfond of \nthe new world and the new ways, which foster trade and bring \nin plenty of money. He is not against Makedon.' \n'I can scarcely imagine Thrasymakhos, however anti-Makedonian, \ncutting up pieces of animals,' I remarked. \n'Not exactly. But Thrasymakhos is important. And -\ngood \nheavens, we must call in the boy Parmenion! How could I not have \nseen into this before? That unfortunate lad - we must talk to him.' \nHe sent Phokon immediately to fetch young Parmenion, who came \nat once. But with him came Kleumedes, defensively standing by the \nboy as ifto take his part against us. \n'Now,' said Aristotle, 'we have some important questions to ask-' \n'Now,' said Kleumedes sternly, looking over his bushy beard at \nAristotle and not smiling, 'we have something important to say. I have \nlong wished to have the opportunity to speak with you, 0 Aristotle, \nand shall do so now you are free from anxiety over Stephanos. In your \nabsence Parmenion and I have had many chances to talk. The youth \nhas things to say to you that should have been said before. And for \nthat I hold you responsible, not this lad.' Kleumedes turned to \nParmenion, who was shifting from foot to foot. He was pale and \n393 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nnervous, but he held his head up and looked at Aristotle, who rose to \nhis feet. \n'Speak, Parmenion,' said Kleumedes encouragingly. \n'Kleumedes blames you, but I understand,' the boy said. 'And it \nwas partly my own fault, because I let him bully me and also deceive \nme-' \n'Oh, by the gods! How could I have been so blind?' Aristotle cried. \n'I see it all now. My poor boy - tormented, and under my own roof \nat the Lykeion. How blind I have been!' \n'Tell him how it was,' said Kleumedes. 'Why don't we all sit \ndown?' he added. \nThey all sat down around me, Parmenion too. He raised his head \nand looked Aristotle in the eye, directly but not defiantly. He seemed \nless anxious than he had in the old days; staying with the doctors must \nhave done him some good. \n'Please,' said Aristotle, 'tell me everything, my dear Parmenion. \nBut I believe I can guess some of \nthe truth that you tried to keep from \nme. You were trying to protect me, was it not so?' The boy nodded. \n'Then you were brave, but ill-rewarded. And your tormentor is -\nmust have been - Thrasymakhos' son, young Mikon.' \n'Yes,' said Parmenion. 'That is so. But it only got really bad when \nyou were away in Delphi. Mikon teased me and he tortured me, and \nhe got some others to do so too. I accused him of \nbeing a spy on you, \no Aristotle, and so he was. I caught him going through your private \nwritings. But he called me \"Makedonian bastard\" - you see, he knew \nmy parents were not married properly according to some of \nthe laws. \nIndeed, my father's parents, too - Arkhebios was not quite - but great \nParmenion always acknowledged him. And my uncle is Philotas, \nwhose fame is glorious.' \n'Yes. Very brave man, your father,' said Aristotle gruffly. 'And \nPhilotas too.' \n'Mikon told me that if I told on him, he would see to it that my \nfather was punished - tortured and killed - for treason. Mikon said it \n394 \n\n\nHEALING AND UGHT \nwould be easy for him to get Arkhebios killed, for many on Rhodos \nresented him. Then Mikon would tell me he found out through \nThrasymakhos and his high-placed friends that my father had been \nremoved from Rhodos and sent into Asia. Later, he told me that \nwasn't right, that he found my father had been secretly imprisoned in \nRhodos, along with my mother's family, for disloyalty. Then he said \nhe wasn't sure. Sometimes he told me he heard my father was dead, \nand that he had been executed by the soldiers in Asia - at Alexander's \norders. But he wasn't certain and would keep looking into it. In a way, \nit is easier to talk about this now - now that I know that my father is \ntruly dead. I can do nothing more to save him. And you are still sure \nthat he died in the war?' \n'Yes,' Aristotle affirmed. 'We have heard from more than one \nsource. Your father died in one of those skirmishes that the brave \nadvance guard get into. I have it on good authority that he was \nproperly buried. His death is, alas, not deniable.' \n'At least now I know. But then - I didn't know if my father were \ndead or alive. Or how I could help him!' \n'No wonder this anxiety was too much for you in the end. But \nMikon seemed to be in your company with your free will -' \n'He told me I needed him to protect myself, since if he stopped \nbeing my friend his father - the respected Thrasymakhos - would see \nthat I was punished, too. As I was not a citizen of \nAthens I could be \nbeaten or killed. And he said that his own father might get angry at \nyou, 0 Aristotle, and punish you as a foreigner who committed acts \nin his thinking and speaking which were pernicious to the state. But \nthen Mikon said we - he and I - must both keep an eye on you and \nprevent you from doing wrong, so you didn't get into trouble.' \n'How amazing,' I said 'A boy to do all that! And he seemed so \ncheerful and light-hearted. Such an engaging little fellow, really.' \n'Mikon really is cheerful,' said Parmenion. 'He is richer than the \nother boys, and they look up to him. But it pleases him also to be \nimportant in secret ways. Mikon liked being a spy. But he is also truly \n395 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \ninterested in learning -\nhe loves thinking of the great books \ncataloguing all the animals and plants. He did enjoy the studies, you \nknow, cutting up animals and things.' \n'What a viper I have nourished,' Aristotle groaned. 'How pleased I \nwas when Thrasymakhos brought Mikon to my school! - Thinking it \na sign that the old breaches were healing and that I could bring \ntogether both pro-Makedon and anti-Make \ndon citizens. The boy \nhimself, so intelligent - he seemed to have real abilities in natural \nphilosophy. Even Theophrastos and Eudemos saw nothing wrong in \nhim. And they are both good judges of character.' \n'I suppose,' I said, 'we don't expect complicated crimes from \nchildren. But Mikon was a good child, in a way. He was working to \nplease his father. Mikon must have found out about the monument \nfor Pythias that you planned -' \nParmenion blushed. 'That was me. We knew there was to be a \nmonument, you mentioned it, but Mikon made me look in your \nprivate writings myself to see if I could find anything more. And I \nfound who was making it, and passed on to him a copy of the \ninscription that was to go on Pythias' tomb.' \n'Ah, it becomes clear,' I said, thinking as I spoke. 'Thus \nThrasymakhos knew in advance about the monument for Pythias -\nand its inscription. So he was able to organise Megakles and \nHypereides and the rest who came and committed the dramatic \ndestruction. And thus they knew ahead of \ntime how to write a parody \nof \nyour inscription and set it by Kallias' monkey.' \n'It was all my fault!' exclaimed the boy wretchedly. \n'No, the fault was essentially my own,' said Aristotle. 'First, for not \nhaving read correctly the state of Athens at the time, and my \nsituation. Second, for my folly in trying to get on good terms with \nHypereides. It was certainly entirely my own fault that I saw that sour \nEpikrates and gave the seductive Antigone an excuse to visit me.' \n'But that was my fault!' I exclaimed. 'In a conversation in the Agora \nI said that Epikrates and Hypereides ought to ask your advice. That \n396 \n\n\nHEALING AND LIGHT \nprobably gave them the idea of \ninitiating the contact, so that Antigone \nherself could be set to entrap you.' \n'Which she was successful in doing. All she had to do was to catch \nsome phrase that would allow her to claim she had heard me speaking \nblasphemously. What a liar she is! But I gave her sufficient opening.' \nAristotle nodded sadly. 'You have to realise that at that point I myself \nwas in too much anxiety about Pythias' health to be thinking as usual. \nThen, when she died, I was too deep in simple grief to be capable of \nreal thought. I sensed enmity - but did not analyse it. Little Mikon \nseemed sympathetic and pitying of \nmy grief, like everyone else around \nme in the Lykeion. I should have realised he was a person most likely \nto be working against me in a hidden way. After the - the outrage at \nthe Kerameikos - I knew simply that I was in danger as well as grief, \nand it would be best if everything cooled for a while in my absence.' \n'Yet,' I remarked, 'you could absent yourself from Athens, but not \nfrom the danger. Parmenion, you felt safer - didn't you? - as soon as \nwe left. You seemed better almost immediately.' The boy nodded, \nadding, 'Until things got bad again.' \n'In fact,' I mused, 'instead of our leaving the danger, the danger \nfollowed us.' \n'How true. And in the cause of preserving my own life and safety, \nthe lives of \nothers have been destroyed!' Aristotle lamented. 'Our first \ncaptain, the good Aiskhines - murdered on Naxos. I believe Aiskhines \ncame to warn me about something, and as a practical man he must \nhave had real reasons for suspicion. But once again, Parmenion, we \nhad an enemy agent within our doors.' \n'Yes. That crippled slavewoman Doris,' I interjected, relishing the \nchance to explain. 'Doris - who pretended to have injured her ankle, \nso she could remain in Aristodamos' residence and watch us. Doris, \nwho had access to the kitchen knives in Aristodamos' house - and to \nthe Naxian powder for efficient cleaning of \ncutlery. The woman who \ncould keep her dog quiet.' \n'Stephanos and I discussed this before, Parmenion, and we believe \n397 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nthat Doris was an enemy agent sent to watch us from the day we set \nout from Peiraieus.' \n1 took up the history again, for the boy's benefit: \n'There were two agents, Parmenion, aboard the Eudaimonia. One \nwas Doris, the enemy's tool. The other was Philokhoros, com-\nmissioned by Antipater to look after us.' \n'Oh, him,' said Parmenion. 'The man with the long nose who \nslobbered over his boy.' \n'Precisely. Philokhoros was spotted by the enemy spy as an \nantagonist and temporarily put out of action once we arrived in in \nDelos. Decoyed away and thrown into a pigsty in Mykonos. He was \nnot very efficient. Whereas Doris was very effective. She got rid of \nthe \ncaptain and managed to get us aboard the craft of Nikias.' \n'There may have been a third agent,' Aristotle added. 'That marble \nmerchant Miltiades. He reacted dramatically to the bloodstains on \nthe Eudaimonia at Skardana, hurrying off to betray our \"murder\" to \nthe magistrate at Delos. He could himself have easily created the \nsmears of blood in the ship. This incident, 1 suppose, was meant \nchiefly to frighten us, perhaps to detain us for a while. Though \npossibly there was a genuine hope we might fall truly foul of \nthe law.' \n'Miltiades followed us to Naxos,' Parmenion remembered. \n'You know,' 1 confided, 'I thought there was something odd at the \ntime. If he were really in the marble business, wouldn't he have \npicked up the offer of \nthe other marble-man and visited Paros? At one \ntime, 1 think, he sounded as if he did business in Paros, but when he \ngot near that island he seemed to deny any interest in it. When 1 get \nback to Athens, 1 shall try to find if there really is a Miltiades in the \nmarble business. Just out of curiosity. We have no legal complaint \nagainst him. But you notice, under pretext of \nmoving a statue, he took \ncharge of \nour movements by hiring the Eudaimonia for himself \nfor two \ndays.' \n'That,' said Aristotle, 'might connect with why Aiskhines came to \nfind us. Something he heard or saw in the port confirmed a suspicion \n398 \n\n\nHEALING AND LIGHT \nalready aroused by Miltiades' fuss and expenditure over moving a \nsmall statue - a job the crew performed more quickly than was prob-\nably intended. Perhaps Aiskhines overheard Miltiades conversing \nwith some other person, and this told him enough for him to realise \nthat there was a plot against us. Our good captain then rushed to \nAristodamos' estate to warn us, and sealed his personal fate. But the \nenemy plan was probably always to put us - to put me - in the power \nof Nikias on the leg of the voyage from the Kyklades. The original \nplan may not have necessitated the death of the captain of the \nEudaimonia, just his being delayed.' \n'If \nNikias was a pirate,' asked Parmenion, 'why did he not kill us \nonce he got us away from Naxos?' \n'He complained to us about his loss of the opportunity,' Aristotle \nreplied. 'He was commissioned, 1 believe, to do away with me, and 1 \nfear with my close companions too. 1 think he needed to get to a place \nwhere he felt safe and unobserved, so he could dispose of \nthe bodies. \nWaiting too long, he lost his chance. There was the storm - and then \nyou remember, we stopped by that damaged ship and 1 spoke to a \nman aboard her. Nikias knew it would be dangerous to do away with \nus if that ship survived. Nikias himself told Stephanos and me that \nmuch. And so we got safely to Kos.' \n'I do not understand any of this,' said Kleumedes. 'But 1 think an \napology to Parmenion is in order, even as he has apologised to you. \nAnd now we shall go and leave you to your discussion - which, 1 must \nsay, seems to interest you more than the plight of \nyour pupil.' \n'No, no,' said Parmenion. 'This is really interesting to me. 1 went \non that voyage, too, 1 was among those people, and 1 need to know \nthe truth.' \n'So you do,' said Aristotle. 'You have my sincere apology for the \npain 1 have allowed you to endure. That my lack of care was \ninadvertent does not excuse it. We shall have a serious talk, the two \nof us - and soon. But now, Stephanos and 1 need to talk.' \n'We will leave you, then,' said Kleumedes. 'But 1 too desire a \n399 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nserious talk with you, 0 Aristotle, and soon.' And he left the room \nwith Parmenion. \n'So we got safely to Kos,' I repeated. 'But we were not truly safe in \nKos. Someone's slave was looking for us. Then Oro \nmedon behaved \nso oddly. And it was from his hands I got the forged letter.' \n'Indeed. Oromedon's behaviour is suspicious. He knows I have \narrived in Kos, but he does not invite me to be his guest straight away. \nHe writes that pompous epistle explaining that he has someone else \nstaying with him, a brother-in-law. Now, who is this \"brother-in-\nlaw\"? Oromedon is long a widower, and he never used to allude to \nmembers of his wife's family. I could be wrong, but he has no sister \nthat I am aware of. He used the phrase, I believe, to disguise a \nconnection with someone who was not supposed to meet us - or, \nrather, someone whom we were not to meet.' \n'It cannot have been Thrasymakhos - he is too staid and important \nto tum up in an island in the East without a slow progress and a lot \nof \nfanfare.' \n'No - not Thrasymakhos, who I fancy has remained snugly in \nAthens. But a leading spirit, mightier and more ingenious than \nThrasymakhos, may have been travelling too. Think, Stephanos -\nwhom did we meet on Delos?' \n'I cannot remember - except your friend Aristodamos who guided \nus around, and a lot of pilgrims, and that pompous lazy magistrate. \nOh, and that chatty slave and his mistress, that funny woman with the \nPhoenician name. Kardaka.' \n'Yes. You said at the time that there was something odd about \nthem. 0 Stephanos, had I been in my normal frame of mind ... \nAll \nshould have been detected then and there! You and I were deflected \nfrom the scene of action while Philokhoros was being spirited away. \nWe were guided by the ingratiating slave - who seemed to disappear \nimmediately (probably he was an ancillary in the plot against \nPhilokhoros). We were taken to see that woman who gave us some \nkind of feeble story as to why she had to see us, simply to ask for a \n400 \n\n\nHEALING AND LIGHT \npassage for Doris. And this expensive lady was herself one of the \nwonders of Delos! 1 believe she was not a woman at all.' \n'Not a woman? Kardaka?' \n'The entity we were taught to call\" Kardaka\" was or claimed to be \nthe mistress of \nDoris. Thus, we do have a firm line tying Doris (whom \nwe know to be an enemy and murderess) both to Nikias and to this \nquestionable person. W\"hen was Philokhoros enticed to travel towards \nthe pigs of Mykonos? While we were spending time rather foolishly \ntalking with Doris' \"mistress\". The more 1 look back on that scene, \nthe more clearly 1 see that someone really enjoyed playing a role. \nThere is this element in the whole terrible series of \nevents, Stephanos, \nwhich puzzles me more than most things about it. The comedy, the \nirony. The work of an ironist or jokesmith.' \n'Nikias certainly has a joking side.' \n'Which shows that jokers can be dangerous. Nikias did indeed have \na joking side, and he committed the foulest of \nmurders. But he is not \nthe dazzling central jester of the plot. You yourself gave me a hint, \nwhen you said the outrages at people's doorways reminded you of \nAlkibiades. 1 sense behind the plot someone of great and devious \nintelligence. And an oddly light-hearted quality. Playful in a strange \nway.' \n'Playful? Yes, that reminds me. 1 have something to show you.' 1 \ngot up and moved about my room. 'I had almost forgotten, in my \nstupor. I'd intended to show you, when we were alone.' 1 took out \nfrom my stuffed leather bag the shiny object 1 had discovered under \nthe thwarts of Nikias' ship. A gold knucklebone. \n'I know only one person who has a gold knucklebone - a pair of \nthem. Euphorbos. 1 saw him playing with them when he was talking \nin the Agora. And after the battle of the islet was over, 1 found this \nthing shining where it had got caught in the planking of \nthe Nike.' \nAristotle took the golden object and examined it \nclosely \n. 'You think \nthis is his?' \n'Yes. When 1 saw it through the bloody water swilling around that \n401 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nwretched ship, the memory of Euphorbos came at once to my mind. \nThough my mind was hazy then because of \nthe pain. And if this gold \ntoy does belong to Euphorbos that would mean -' I could feel myself \nwrinkling my brow in an effort to work it out clearly - 'it would mean \nthere really was a connection between him and Nikias. Euphorbos \nwould have been a passenger on the Nike, some time before - but not \nlong before - our accursed trip from Halikamassos to that dreadful \nisland!' \n'Excellent, Stephanos! So we clearly have an actor for the part of \nour new Alkibiades.' \n'Alkibiades lived in history. He is dead now.' \n'True. But I think we have another candidate for a similar role.' \nAristotle began to play, unconsciously, with the shiny knucklebone. \n'Someone tall, but not too tall, with fine features and complexion. \nWho could dress to advantage in woman's clothes. Someone able to \nsustain the part - the comic part - of a Phoenician pseudo-lady with \nspirit and success. Intelligent enough even to preserve the right \nfemale forms of words. So many would fail at that. I had begun to \nthink before now, Stephanos, that the lady Kardaka was a \ngentleman. \n' \nI thought back to the hot day in Delos, the strange interview with \nthe fine lady in yellow silk speaking in her odd accent through the \ngauzy curtain. 'I'm not comfortable doing business with ladies, and I \ndon't know how to deal with foreigners. It's not impossible,' I had to \nadmit. \n'Consider, Stephanos. The chief mover, in this plot - against \nourselves, Athens, and certainly Alexander - would be a well-born \nAthenian. A leader in the oligarchic revolt. A citizen probably closely \nassociated with Thrasymakhos, but far beyond Thrasymakhos in \nability, and a good deal younger. Not only an aristocrat, but capable \nand versatile. This Alkibiades-person should be good-looking, \nsympathetic, light-hearted, apparently at times even trivial, a good \nmimic. Also shrewd, hypocritical, and far-seeing.' \n402 \n\n\nHEAliNG AND UGHT \n'You are describing Euphorbos! And you really believe that when \nwe were talking to Kardaka, we were talking to Euphorbos all the \ntime?' \n'I now think so. Though it was a good performance, and should \nhave won any actor an extra purse in the Panathenia. Kardaka of \nKarthago was supposed to come from Peireaeius, and Euphorbos \nknows Peiraeius quite well and has observed the shrines of the \ngoddess of Karthago, the triangle-goddess, which he mentioned. \nSuch a performance is also free of risk. Suppose Euphorbos were \ndiscovered to be masking as a female of \nKarthago, or at least of \nPunic \nantecedents in this way - what then? Why, everyone would laugh and \nsay only that teasing Euphorbos would have his joke. Nobody would \never believe such a jest was connected to real plots, or real death.' \n'So - Nikias must have been a creature of \nEuphorbos?' \n'Nikias' whole career was not based on Euphorbos - of \ncourse not. \nNikias was a criminal in his own right. But Euphorbos saw how to use \nhim. The gold knucklebone entitles us to surmise also that \nEuphorbos was very close by -' \n'Yes, if he were Oromedon's guest, his \"brother-in-law\", he was \nnearby. And he could have been the forger of Theodoros' letter, \nwhich he obtained while in Oromedon's house.' \n'Alas, these are all suspicions, Stephanos. We have no proof. But if \n1 am right, he was closer even than that. Why, Stephanos, you and 1 \nactually saw this man again, our ironist and joker, in Halikamassos.' \n'We did?' 1 was genuinely puzzled. 'Well 1 did not -' \n'Oh yes, you commented on him. The blind man with the dreadful \nskin affliction. When 1 went into that food shop, 1 did two things. 1 \nleft word (cryptically) for any messenger sent by Alexander or \nAntipater who might be looking for us. And 1 asked the landlord and \nother customers if they knew whether the poor blind man were a \nnative of Halikamassos and who he was. They did not know him, he \nhad only recently come to the harbour. So 1 thought at the time that \nthis strange beggar was there for a reason. Though 1 didn't then \n403 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nconnect him with Euphorbos, of course. This beggar wore an excel-\nlent disguise: people get enough of beggars in ports, and feel \nparticular aversion to someone with such terrible sores. He looked \nmost repellent - to anybody but a doctor! Casting a doctor's eye on \nhim, I thought the sores not quite real.' \n'It is I who am blind,' I said in disgust. 'I myself \nhave used a similar \ntrick, in the past. And that disguise he chose fits in with the kind of \njoke put into Theodoros' letter. \"Who cannot for himself see truth\"-\nshowing I was the blind man, not he.' \n'And I am blind, too. For much good my observation in \nHalikarnassos did me.' Aristotle spoke ruefully. 'Only later did I \nrealise this beggar was of similar height and even shape to Kardaka, \nthough no longer female. At the time, I thought this \"blind man\" at \nthe harbour was probably a spy for the government. Quite separately, \nI suspected Nikias, but not enough. I myself was totally deceived by \nDiophantos too, blinded by a sense of safety inspired by military \ncommand.' \n'But we did not know then - in Halikarnassos - that Nikias was \nconnected to Doris,' I said, trying to work it \nout. 'When we got to that \ndreadful islet and saw the crippled dog - I hope it died of dysentery! \n- we knew Doris must have been with Nikias. Between the time we \nlast saw her in Kos and the time we got to the wretched isle ourselves.' \n'Yes. And by now Kos may have given Doris a miraculous \n\"recovery\" from her lameness. I am all too confident that Doris is not \nthe late lamented Doris, but alive and well, working as somebody's \nagent somewhere in the world. In communication with her good \nmistress \"Kardaka\" of Peiraieus - a personage better known to us, I \nbelieve, as Euphorbos of Athens.' \n'But it was Diophantos who killed Peleus in Phaselis, and insisted \non putting us in the care ofNikias. Hard to believe that an army man \nlike Diophamos would do such things.' \n'These events indicate that the party or parties working towards a \nnew Athenian Empire without allegiance to Alexander must have \n404 \n\n\nHEALING AND LIGHT \nsome strong supporters within Alexander's army. Including \nnumerous Makedonians who don't want to press on to the farthest \nEast. And then - so much money! People who get their hands on \nmoney can do more than just buy fine linens and perfume. They can \ncommand arms - assassins - spies - troops of fighting men - loyalty \nitself! The further off Alexander goes, the easier it is for many, even \nin the army, to believe - even to wish - that he will not return. The \njoker at the heart of these events, we may well believe, is on good \nterms with such disaffected persons, and actively capable of creating \nliaisons with them.' \n'A truly ambitious man might see a good opportunity for picking \nup solid power as well as gold bars. It is tempting to take charge of \nthe \nGreek cities of \nWestern Asia, and all their riches.' \n'Precisely, Stephanos. Again, remember Alkibiades - how he tried \nto use political events to suit himself? He was handsome and generous \nand pleasure-loving! So people discounted his ability, his ambition, \nand the potential extent of \nhis treachery. He betrayed his own country \nin what he saw as his own interests. Yet he was entertaining. A \nwonderful companion at a symposium! A man of such intellect and \nattractiveness, he dazzles us even today when we meet him in the \npages of Plato or Thoukydides! All our Euphorbos lacks is a Plato to \ngive an account of him. Dear me, here is Philokhoros.' \nPhilokhoros indeed appeared, looking important and serious, not \nat all like a man who had been thrown into a pigpen. After hearing \nour profuse thanks to him for saving our lives, he wished to be \ninformed about everything we knew, so we told him of \nthe voyage to \nKos, the trip into Asia, and our being carried to the dreadful island. \nAristotle did not tell him certain things, I noticed; for instance, he \nmentioned the gold in the woolly bags but said nothing to \nPhilokhoros about Harpalos' hidden hoard of secret wealth. \n'And now,' I complained, 'everything is left in an unsatisfactory \nstate. What can we do? First, do we warn Harpalos? After all, it was \nbecause we were carrying his money that we were so extremely \n405 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nattractive to bad persons. Especially the captain of that platoon that \ntook us from Phaselis. They marched along with the decaying body \nof their commander concealed in a carpet, the stench covered by a \nnauseous horsehide. Aristotle, you looked so strange when Nikias \nthrew the horsehide overboard!' \n'Because,' Aristotle explained, 'I had sewn a message in the \nhorsehide, and few gold coins, thinking it might get to the general \nwho allegedly once owned the horse and wanted the hide. Though I \nnow think that high-ranking horse-lover was a mere fiction. When the \nstinking thing went overboard, that means of \ntracing us vanished.' \n'I knew nothing of \nthat idea of \nyours. Had you told the \"dolphins\" \nof \nthe gold coins, they would have recovered even the stinking hide,' \nI remarked. 'Diophantos was behind the horsehide trick. What can be \ndone about that man?' \n'Diophantos is definitely an officer gone to the bad,' agreed \nAristotle. 'Dangerous. We were not, however, meant to see the \ncontents of the carpet when we did - that was the carelessness of \nNikias' men. Our seeing that corpse increased Nikias' problems in \ndealing with us, and also rendered the unwanted additional \npassengers a more serious liability. I wonder if Diophantos knows \nthat Nikias and his gang are dead?' \n'This is all very important and quite serious,' said Philokhoros, \nlooking important and serious himself. 'Those who commissioned \nme are anxious to know the state of \naffairs both in Athens and in Asia, \nand to detect any disaffection in the armed forces. It had already \ncome to notice that some orders were being countermanded, that \nsome equipment was taken without strict authority. At the same time, \nin an enemy country in the middle of a war, it is important not to \nmake open and large accusations and stir things up. So agents are \nsent out to find the truth - myself among them. Though my primary \npurpose on this occasion was to look after you, Aristotle, and see if \nanyone dogged your steps.' \n'You were ideal for the role. Not only young and intelligent but \n406 \n\n\nHEALING AND LIGHT \nAthenian. No Makedonian, you could escape odium on that score. \nYet you had not lived in Athens and would not be recognised.' \n'Just so. Now, from what you have said, there appears to be a plot \nextending to the army itself. The further Alexander is away from \nthem, the more chance there is of \nnaughty business in Western Asia. \nThere is no time to be lost in confronting this Diophantos and \nbringing him down. I shall go to Asia myself. I shall soon find out if \nDiophantos already knows about the fate ofNikias, and if \nso who told \nhim. But I shall indicate that - before they were killed - Nikias and \nthe Theban slave both confessed to the murder of Peleus as well as to \nthe abduction of \nAristotle, and fully implicated Diophantos.' \n'You must be careful!' I exclaimed. \n'Yes,' added Aristotle. 'Be careful that none of this redounds on \nyourself. And I would rather not have it put about that I was abducted \n- like a feeble girl, an heiress or something. It is only Justice, \nPhilokhoros, to point out that such tremendous greed might not have \narisen were it not for Harpalos' and Alexander's new money. All that \nmoney washing around Asia is a great stimulative to the appetite for \nwealth and power - in many men. I except the Theban slave \nMenestor. He was moved not by lust for gold but by a desire for \nrevenge. A twisted honour.' \n'Too bad I could not have interrogated that Theban. Your concern \nis well meant, but don't worry about me,' said Philokhoros loftily. 'I \nshall never be decoyed or deceived again, and now they have no \nhandle on my affections with which to gain control of me. Dear, I \nwonder where my poor little Sosios is! I'll sift this matter quickly, \nnever fear.' \n'How will you find out the truth?' I asked in my ignorance. \n'The whole platoon will be put to the question individually, before \nbeing executed. They all need to be got rid of,' said Philokhoros \neasily. 'Don't worry. We shall learn everything in short order. The \nprospect of \ntorture works wonders. Most people will tell you whatever \nyou want to know, sooner rather than later. After a certain point of \n407 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \npain, most men prefer to settle for an easy death without undergoing \nthe trouble of \nfurther questioning. \n'I had better set about it \nat once,' he added, rising. 'If! can discover \nand put down such a plot within the army, my own repute will rise \nwith the Makedonian powers.' He left amid our protestations of \ngratitude for his gallant rescue of \nus from the pirates. \n'You gave him rather an edited version,' I exclaimed. 'You said \nnothing of my forged letter, for example. You entirely omitted \nHarpalos' map and secreted treasure. You never mentioned \nEuphorbos. \n' \n'The writ of a man like Philokhoros,' said Aristotle drily, 'cannot \nextend to a man like Euphorbos. At present, either Harpalos or \nEuphorbos is able to squash a Philokhoros like a bedbug. This is a \nmatter where the utmost tact and care are required. We cannot act \nagainst Euphorbos.' \n'Not when we know what he has done? And now Diophantos may \nimplicate him.' \n'Even if Diophantos under torture were to incriminate Euphorbos \n- if the officer knew so much - think how easy it is for Euphorbos to \ndefend himself. He was never in Asia, he will say. This is all the \nfantasy of a desperate prisoner, incoherent outcries under torture, \nquite possibly the confection of \nsome kind of \nblackmail by the upstart \nPhilokhoros. He himself, citizen Euphorbos, was spending the last \nweeks of summer quietly with friends in the Athenian countryside, \nand he can produce witnesses to that effect - and so on. And we, \nStephanos - we do not know what Euphorbos has done.' \n'I suppose not.' I had to agree, but unhappily. \n'We have no evidence. We have merely intelligent speculations. \nProbabilities. But what could we point to? Only slender threads of \nconnection - a crippled dog, people quoting Hesiod, and a glittering \nchildish toy. I am convinced by the evidence of \nthe knucklebone - but \nwhat is a single knucklebone, even if of gold? A rare toy, to be sure, \nbut we cannot swear that no one else in the world has such a thing! \n408 \n\n\nHEALING AND LIGHT \nShould such a preposterous case be brought to court, it would be \nlaughed away. We have no real evidence at all.' \n'That is very disappointing,' I said. 'In the other cases of murder \nand crime which we have worked on together, you always found the \nevidence and the solution; the criminal was fully revealed. Could you \nuse Harpalos somehow?' \n'I am very sorry to disappoint you. Even sorrier to disappoint \nmyself. But I urge you never to utter to other Athenians your \nsuspicions of Euphorbos, at least as long as things remain as they \npresently are. And leave Harpalos out of it. He is too powerful \naltogether. He himself is devious. There is no need for someone like \nPhilokhoros, however well intentioned, to know much about \nHarpalos, or his hidden treasure - or his vexing commission.' \n'What are you going to do about the hidden treasure?' \n'I shall certainly now not fulfil Harpalos' vexing commission. It \nis a \nburden to me that I know where hidden treasure is supposed to be, \nthough a relief not to have to touch it. I must write to Harpalos, in \nguarded terms, telling him what has happened. And I must warn him \ntoo!' \n'Warn Harpalos - of Diophantos - or Philokhoros?' \n'No. Bedbugs, Stephanos! Harpalos' danger comes from himself. \nSly from boyhood, he loves to play his own game and seek his \nadvantage. Charming but not trustworthy. Alexander has fallen out \nwith him before. He will certainly do so again if \nhe suspects Harpalos \nis playing fast and loose with what Alexander naturally regards as his \nmoney. The best thing I can do about that treasure is to inform \nAntipater that it is where I know it is.' \n'At least if \nsomebody else hasn't go to it. You remember its location \nstill?' \n'The most I shall tell you, Stephan \nos, is that it is not a thousand \nparasangs from the coast of Knidos. I hsall give to Antipater the \ncontents of both the woolly bags, and the information about \nHarpalos' hidden treasure. Certainly I shall not entangle myself by \n409 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \ndelivering this money to persons in Kos or Athens! They may simply \nbe members of another conspiracy. But all 1 shall indicate to \nAntipater is that Harpalos tried to entrust all of this, including the \nhidden portion, to my care, out of concern for safety. He wished to \nmake sure that there was enough money not only to pay troops in \nWestern Asia but to cover expenses in Greece. Antipater will be well \npleased. This way, Harpalos comes off well. He and his associates \nmerely lose the money - but he keeps Alexander's good will. Because \n1 taught Harpalos in his childhood, 1 have a soft spot for him -\nperhaps stupidly. 1 still could not wish him to run into Alexander's \nwrath.' \n'But Harpalos and Alexander are friends,' 1 commented. \n'Alexander has a very bad temper when aroused; he has demon-\nstrated this from his childhood. He does not even consider it right to \nstop and think when he is in a passion. 1 fear now for the fate of \nPhilotas, since great Parmenion has unexpectedly fallen from favour. \nWe must certainly not send our young Parmenion to Asia.' He \nsighed. 'I cannot help feeling that it would be better for Kallisthenes \nif he could come home now - though Kallisthenes would not agree \nwith me. And 1 have lost his beautiful manuscript.' \n'At any rate it \nwas but a copy,' 1 said comfortingly. 'He still has the \noriginal. At least we do know what happened to the book. There is so \nmuch else we do not know! We do not know where Doris is now, \nthough she should be brought to her just reward. Nor do we know \nwhat happened to Philokhoros' slave Sosios. We can't be sure if he \nwere murdered or not. But consider the strange plotters' string of \nmurders - the lives lost.' 1 counted on my fingers: \n'First, Aiskhines, the good captain. Second, Peleus, the efficient \nofficer. Third, the little girl, Philokleia - that was terrible! And her \nmother and grandfather too may be accounted victims ofNikias. And \none of our rescuers was killed. That is six innocent lives gone - three \nof \nthese undoubtedly murder of \nthe most terrible kind!' \n'Seven,' said Aristotle gloomily. 'I count seven lives lost. At least 1 \n410 \n\n\nHEALING AND LIGHT \nam not responsible for the first of \nthe murders that we know of. The \nboy who died after the Bouphonia - do you remember him?' \n'The vulgar child of \nthe fisher-people? The bull-faced boy strutting \nabout saying \"I'm Alexander!\" That was supposed to have been a sort \nof accident. Or - do you think he was killed for insulting Mikon?' \n'Not just for that. But the boy expressed his admiration for \nAlexander -\nthe popular belief that the new power means the \nsubjection of people like us and Thrasymakhos and his friends. \nAdmiration for Alexander growing among the poorer sort displeases \nsuch men. The boy was heartily punished for his little vaunt - killed \nas a sacrifice, but also as an animal. The use of \nthe antique bronze axe \n- there again I seem to get a whiff of our joker.' \n'Yet we can do nothing about Euphorbos?' \n'Nothing - as things stand. The best way to handle Euphorbos now \nwould be to find ways of harassing him with private lawsuits. That \nwould tie the man to Athens, perpetually defending his property in \ncivil courts. I might hint as much to Antipater. But as for bringing a \ncharge of murder - impossible! First, who would bring a case? The \nlowly relations of Aiskhines? Nobody has any proof -\nexcept \nourselves. And they are no proofs, but a heap of surmises that would \nsound ridiculously feeble. Harangue against Euphorbos in the \nAreopagos? Absurd. To fail in bringing such a charge - that would be \nto fail indeed. These are dangerous times, Stephanos. Men lose all \nobjection to injustice when they stand either to gain greatly or to lose \ntheir own lives.' \nWith this I could not be truly content, but I could do nothing more. \nI put my mind upon my own recovery, and was soon well enough to \nvisit Asklepios' shrine myself. Not only I but the amazingly resilient \npilgrim was able to give thanks to great Paieon, to Hygieia and to the \nkindly healer for recovery. latrokles offered many suggestions as to \ndiet and simple exercise to restore the use of my shoulder and arm. \nHeartily sorry as the good doctor was for what we had been through, \n411 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nIatrokles seemed almost as horrified by the fact that Aristotle had \nused his medical knowledge to poison the pirates' fish stew with \nhoney (obtained as a remedy) which had been fermented and mixed \nin with animal and human dung and some very rotten shellfish. \nConcentrating on the task of getting well enough to go home, I had \npractically forgotten why I had come in the first place. I was surprised \nwhen one fine morning Iatrokles told me that Philokles wanted to see \nme. \n'He's brought his hetaira with him,' Iatrokles said with some \ndisapproval. 'I hope I am tolerant of young people's behaviour, but I \ndon't want to lose the last of my respectable paying patients in Kos \non the grounds that disorderly persons frequent our house. ' \nWell wrapped up in my himation (as there was a sea wind blowing \nand my wound felt the chill) I met Philokles and his woman in the \ngarden. Philokles was well-knit and personable, not in his first youth \nbut still able to look quite like a young man, with his curling hair and \nlarge green eyes. I could see a decided resemblance to my Philomela, \nthough his hair was not the same colour. The girl (or woman, rather) \nwith him was well dressed and decidedly self-possessed, even at \nmeeting an unknown gentleman. Philokles was unembarrassed. \n'This is Nanno,' he said proudly. 'We are living together in Kos. I \nam sorry we weren't here when you came, but we were in Kalymnos. \nNanno comes from a sponge-fisher's family, and she has a good share \nof \na sponge-fishing business herself.' \n'I congratulate you,' I said to this improper but businesslike lady. \n'Yes,' she said simply. 'I can always pick out the good divers.' \n'Now, Stephanos of Athens, I understand,' Philokles began, 'that \nyou want to marry my sister's daughter. But you want something for \nher out of \nmy father's estate - is that right?' \nI felt unable to object to discussing family business with him in the \npresence of \nthis strange woman, so I had to reply. \n'If I could have some legal share in the honey business of the \nHymettos farm,' I said, 'however you wish it tied up for Philomela \n412 \n\n\nHEALING AND LIGHT \nand our children, then I could go ahead with a much easier mind.' \n'Oh, I have no problem with that,' said Philokles easily. 'Let me in \nfor a consideration. If \nyou will attend to the sale of \nthe honey, I should \nbe glad of some arrangement with you. I don't intend to go back to \nHymettos! Not now. I like the weather here. I don't have to strain my \nback in the cold fields, nor go climbing up steep slopes to peer into \nbeehives and get stung. My sister is a remarkable woman. Let her \nwork at producing, and you at selling.' \n'My idea exactly,' I said. 'But of course it is yourinheritance. Your \nclaim will be respected -' \n'I am sure,' he said, 'as long as the farm doesn't go to that lazy \nparasite Dropides, I shall be satisfied. I wish my niece very well. We'll \nget documents written up in Kos. Mind, if \nI have children, legitimate \nor not, I expect them to get a share, and I shall write that in.' \n'Your heir,' I felt compelled to point out, 'your legitimate son, is \nentitled to the whole estate.' \n'But that means marrying the daughter of an Athenian citizen and \nliving in Athens. I am well as I am. Don't worry that I mean to come \nback and repossess the farm or anything. Highly unlikely. Give me a \nshare of \nthe proceeds, and I shall be content.' \nNanno appeared pleased, ifnot surprised, when Philokles registered \nhis lack of \ninterest in going back to Athens. \n'It is highly unlikely,' said she, waving an elegant arm, with a gold \nand cornelian bracelet that looked very well on it. 'Cold hillsides \ndon't suit my Philokles. Ifhe wants business, why there's the sponges. \nPhilokles has everything he could want, right here in the islands. We \nhave a charming home. You must come and see us.' \nIt was astonishing to me to see a man - an Athenian citizen who \nwould soon be related to me - give up Athens, citizenship, family \nlands, legitimate nuptials and lawful offspring. Philokles seemed \nperfectly happy with the arrangement. He could live on Nanno, \nevidently. It struck me that he and Dropides had more in common \nthan either could ever suppose. \n413 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nCertainly I was fortunate, for Philokles was as good as his word. \nWithin three days I was in possession of \nhandsome legal writings, well \nattested. I wanted at least one witness to be an Athenian citizen - and \nfound this useful citizen (not, as Nikias had supposed, a barbarian at \nall) in the person of \nour recovering pilgrim. This man's soundness of \nmind might have been questioned, for he professed to have forgotten \nalmost everything that transpired on the island. My wound was \nmending, and the way was now cleared for Philomela and myself to \nset up a life together. \nOnce more I got on board a ship. It was no longer summer, and \nthere were long clouds streaking an autumnal sky. We had put off \nsailing until it was almost too late, and equinoctial gales threatened \nus. Fortunately, we were on a fast transport and a big one - no light \nkeles but an impressive naval vessel with four banks of oars and a \nkeleusma that gave me a serious headache at first. I say 'we' had put \noff sailing, for Aristotle had refused to go anywhere until I was well \nagain. \nThis time our party did not include Parmenion. The lad had \nannounced to Kleumedes and latrokles his strong desire to become a \ndoctor. 'I will stay here,' he said firmly to Aristotle. 'I shall live in Kos \nand learn to be a physician. Now I have no father, and you tell me it \nis dangerous at present to seek Philotas. But I have Kleumedes and \nlatrokles who want me to stay. They will be friends to me and teach \nme. When I am with them I am well, and can make others so.' I was \nsurprised at the power the lad had acquired, remembering the \nshrinking white-faced boy I had once known. Aristotle agreed \nwholeheartedly, almost meekly, for Kleumedes had expressed to him \nvery frankly his disapproval of the way in which Parmenion's real \ntroubles had gone unnoticed in the Lykeion. \nSo our travelling group consisted only of Aristotle, myself and \nPhokon. We had no less baggage than on our trip from Athens -\nmore, indeed. Aristotle had purchased a mysterious stone chest \nwhich he had ordered sent over from Halikarnassos to Kos, and this \n414 \n\n\nHEALING AND LIGHT \nobject (wrapped up and extremely heavy) had to be put on the ship \nwith us. \nAs we left the island and harbour of Kos I thought not just of the \npast, but of the days to come. A future when, as Iatrokles hoped, the \ngreat temple and treatment centre would be built, and Parmenion \nwould be a doctor to many pilgrims in search of health. I left these \nlovely regions with some regret and some good memories - despite \neverything that had passed - of sunny days of sailing among the \nislands. The sun still gave us glimpses of the transparent world, and \nthe sun and moon and wandering stars gave us light as we went on \nour way over the deep and wide sea. \n415 \n\n\n==::;:gl_n~== \na-G \nEpilogue \nAristotle and I returned safely to Athens - for which I personally gave \nmany thank-offerings to various deities. I could not, however, decide \nin relation to my vow whether my voyage had been successful or not. \nIt \nhad a successful issue for myself, in that I had found Philokles and \ngot what I wanted. But the cost in human life of our expedition \nseemed very great. I went, however, as bound by oath, on a special \njourney to Sounion to give to Poseidon both a thank-offering for my \nreturn and an additional one for the success of my journey. Yet I do \nnot think what we experienced on that journey was at all included in \nmy original prayer. \nAthens now seemed more peaceful. The outrages involving parts of \nanimals had ceased. Aristotle was politely treated. There was no more \ntalk of putting him on trial for blasphemy, or anything of that kind. \nOn the whole, civility prevailed. Indeed, some wholesome fear \nseemed to have filtered through: perhaps news of the death of the \npirates, more likely of \nthe harsh fates of Diophantos and his platoon. \nAt any rate, people invited the philosopher out to dinner, just as \nbefore, and the work of the Lykeion went on. \nAs for myself, immediately on my arrival I sought out my family. At \n416 \n\n\nEPILOGUE \nlast I heard - and at length, from many competing narrators - of \nthe \nattack on Smikrenes' holding. Two men had been lurking around, \nhad done some minor damage to the crops in the further field, and \nhad tried to entice the dog to take food from them. These intruders \nwere run off, but Theodoros had at once sent for his cousin \nPhilemon. Philemon arrived in cavalry style 'on a horse' as \nTheodoros said in awed tones. (The horse of course was borrowed.) \nPhilemon threw himself into turning the house and farm into a \nfortress, and supplied Smikrenes and Theodoros with weapons of \narmy quality (also borrowed, from fellow-veterans who were personal \nfriends of \nhis) . \nIn the dark of \nnight, the two men with others had come back. They \nburned a small bam or goat-shed, yelled loud insults, and, still \nhallooing, tried to knock the house door down. One man looking for \nan easy entrance went on the roof, where he was surprised by \nPhilemon. Theodoros loosed Moloss-Molou at just the right \nmoment, while Geta worked at putting the fire out. Meanwhile, my \nmother and Philomela, as instructed by Philemon, set up an irregular \ncacophony of shouts and banging of metal frying pans and things. \nThey made as much noise as women at the mourning of Adonis. \nThey also threw stones: missiles collected the day before by \nTheodoros and Smikrenes, directed by Philemon. This was the point \nat which a certain friendship between my mother and Philomela was \ncemented. My fiancee had gained, as Theodoros wrote, 'Mother's \nlove'. \nMeanwhile Philemon wounded the roof-climber and made him \nconfess who he was, and that he and his fellows belonged to \nThrasymakhos. Moloss-Molou got a good bite or two of another \nfellow. Smikrenes, searching for more intruders, ran about the farm \nholding both a pitchfork and a shortened spear, like a man running \nmad. He nicked one intruder in the buttock with his pitchfork, but \ndid not bring him down. Eventually the dog-bitten fellow and his \nauxiliaries gave up and ran away. Theodoros was very excited that he \n417 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \nhad been able to stand in the doorway holding a light sword, but \nlanguage failed him when he tried to describe the virtues of Moloss-\nMolou. \nOnce I returned to Athens, Thrasymakhos backed down, and there \nwas no need for Smikrenes to pursue his lawsuit. Thrasymakhos \nassured Smikrenes and myself that the slaves involved in the attack \nagainst the Eleusis farm and its inhabitants had been severely flogged \nand sold. Upon discreet enquiry, this appeared to be true. It seemed \nto be quite safe to take Theodoros and my mother back to their home \nin Athens. \nI made other discreet enquiries also, and could find no trace of \nMiltiades among the marble merchants of Athens. Neither, \napparently, had anyone in Peiraieus known of the foreign woman \nKardaka. A few residents remembered a little lame slavewoman who \nused to appear in the district. I also heard in Peiraeius that Aiskhines' \nbody had been brought back to Athens, after being discovered in a \nravine in rural Naxos, where the unfortunate man must have been \nattacked by night bandits. His sister's husband now ran his shipping \nbusiness. \nOne dull and drizzling evening Aristotle surprised me by coming to \nmy door and asking me to accompany him to do one special thing. \nWe went at midnight, that rainy autumn night, to the Kerameikos -\nmyself and Aristotle, Theophrastos and Demetrios of \nPhaleron. The \nothers were armed with picks and shovels. I kept watch for them, \nwhile they quickly and quietly dug up the remains (much altered) of \nPythias, daughter of \nHermias and wife to Aristotle. They enfolded her \nbones in a large blanket and silently took them back to Aristotle's \nhome. There I saw that the Master of the Lykeion had caused the \nstone chest he had brought back from Kos to be set up in his garden. \nIt was an ornate chest, with four erotes on the one side, well carved in \nstone, and on the other a forceful rendition of \nMedusa with her snaky \nhair. The remains of Pythias he deposited in this stone coifm, \nmuttering softly formulas of \nprayer and snatches of \npoetic song as he \n418 \n\n\nEPILOGUE \nhimself laid them in that depository. 'This is the best kind of \nsarcophagus,' he said. 'It eats flesh hygienically and leaves the bones. \nThat is how they treat bodies of \nthe well-born in Asia. I would not let \nmy Pythias rest longer in that despised soil of the dirty Kerameikos, \nwhere she wasn't wanted. Now she shall stay with me, or go with me \nwherever I go.' \nMy reappearance in Athens caused surprise and relief, and some \nhappiness, especially to my mother who had never quite adjusted to \nEleusis. My mother and Smikrenes had not got on well at first, even \nthough all business between them had to be conducted (as propriety \ndictated) by intermediaries. I fear Philomela had a bad time of it for \nsome weeks at the beginning of their visit. But the attack on \nSmikrenes' house had given them all a common cause. Moloss-\nMolou the valiant was now a prime favourite with everyone, and \nTheodoros was respected even by Smikrenes. It was a source of \nhappiness to me that Mother and Philomela now got on well, and my \ndear parent had ceased to regret - at least, had ceased loudly to \nlament - my forthcoming marriage. \nIt was not such a source of happiness to me that my brother \nTheodoros - the intelligent Theodoros - had conceived a great \nadmiration for his cousin Philemon, whom he regarded as a pillar of \nstrength and a model of military resourcefulness. (Of course, \nTheodoros had no way of \nknowing how I had once saved Philemon's \nhousehold when under attack, and it would seem boastful to tell him \noutright.) But I resolved that Theodoros should admire his elder \nbrother at least as much as his cousin Philemon. \nMy own concerns - including persuading everyone in Hymettos to \nunderstand the new arrangement - engrossed my mind. The year of \nmy marriage was to be very lively and busy, if complicated by the \npuzzling affairs of \nDemeter at Eleusis. But of \nthat another time. One \nimage connected with the activities of that strange summer when \ngreat Darius died still haunts my memory. I saw Euphorbos from \ntime to time during the following autumn and winter - in the \n419 \n\n\nARISTOTLE AND THE SECRETS OF LIFE \ndistance, for the most part. He did become the defendant in several \nlawsuits, just as Aristotle had predicted, only civil cases, but sufficient \nto keep a man at horne instead of \nwandering abroad. I earnestly tried \nto keep clear of him, knowing (or believing) that this man was the \nfount of my suffering. Euphorbos might, so I thought, nurse \nmalevolence towards me; after all, his plans had not truly succeeded, \nand many of his agents had suffered, even though he himself \nremained unharmed and unquestioned. But one evening in the \nfollowing spring I saw Euphorbos unexpectedly at close quarters, \nalmost running into him in the street. He was corning away from a \nparty, staggering, a little flushed with drinking as fashionable young \nmen are after a symposium. But in the moonlight and the torchlight \nI could see him clearly. He was wreathed in violets and swayed with \njoy, like Dionysos himself. It was hard to think harshly at that \nmoment of a man who looked so like a god. \n420","difficulty":"hard","domain":"Single-Document QA","length":"long","question":"In \"Aristotle and the Secrets of Life\", a mysterious death occurs during the journey to Delos, where a wealthy merchant is found dead under strange circumstances. After reading the majority of the book, based on the interactions and motives of the characters, who is most likely responsible for the merchant's death, and how was it done?","sub_domain":"Detective"}

Source: https://huggingface.co/datasets/zai-org/LongBench-v2

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Posting: /agents

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