from an aristocratic snob who used his power to avoid military service, to a full-blown democrat bent on restoring complete power to the assembly. The fact that the man had avoided service with the hippeis and had seen no action over the summer sat ill with many of the assembly, but political memory was short and Demosthenes promised action on a number of fronts that would please the voters — the men in the phalanx. And when Alcaeus denounced Kineas for his anti-democratic harbouring of the Keltoi and ‘Cleomenes’ traitor son’, it was Demosthenes who rose to his feet amidst the hissing to support him.
One of his first proposals was that Kineas’s expedition to the east be held back until Kineas had cleared his accounts with the city. This proposal was met with another chorus of hissing when he first proposed it, but by the third meeting of the assembly, enough wine had passed enough lips for the idea to appear to have some merit.
Kineas sat and writhed like an unhappy child through the rest of the day. The resolution to call for his accounts failed by a good margin — but it had not been hooted down.
‘Ares and Aphrodite!’ Kineas said as he threw his cloak at his bed. ‘Accounts? What accounts?’
Philokles smiled, rubbing his beard. ‘I imagine that the honoured Demosthenes knows full well that we kept no accounts.’
Diodorus came in with his hetaira, who called herself Sappho, on his arm. She was an elegant woman of thirty, with good bones, a long nose and an imperious air that belied both humour and real learning. Diodorus had purchased her contract with his loot from the battle, and seemed satisfied with the exchange. ‘Bad day in the assembly?’ Diodorus asked. His freckles burned as he grinned.
‘Why don’t they ask at the citadel for accounts?’ Kineas said, his voice as close to a whine as his men had ever heard.
Diodorus shrugged. ‘Demosthenes doesn’t want to see the accounts. He wants to hold you and your expedition hostage until you give him something.’
Kineas poured wine from a ewer and drank it off, glaring at all of them.
‘His uncle’s inheritance, perhaps?’ Sappho asked. Her plucked eyebrows lifted. ‘Would someone pour me a cup of wine?’
‘Well, I am an idiot,’ Kineas said, brought up short. ‘Of course that’s what this is about.’
Philokles looked at him as if he had two heads. Diodorus cocked his head to one side as if he was a dog examining a particularly good bone.
Kineas shook his head. ‘No, I didn’t get it.’
Diodorus shook his head. ‘Sometimes, I think it’s good for all of us that you chose not to be tyrant.’
Kineas felt the chagrin of a man who had failed to see a fairly simple stratagem. ‘I’ve had a great deal on my mind these last two weeks.’ It sounded weak, even to him. ‘Can he carry the assembly?’
Diodorus snorted and Philokles echoed the sound. ‘If you continue walking around with your head in the clouds, looking hurt and being silent, then yes, I suspect he will eventually carry the assembly. On the other hand, if we lay out a few silver owls on wine for the voters and start reminding them that Demosthenes is a coward and a pompous ass, he’ll probably fade away. Hell, they all served with Alcaeus. They’ll remember that he was an idiot without much prompting.’
Philokles shook his head. ‘Demosthenes won’t simply fade away. He’s already got his claws into the traitor Cleomenes’ political patronage — and he inherited a great many of Nicomedes’ clients, even if he didn’t get the money.’ He paused. ‘Not that I’m against what our fox here suggests. When Odysseus says to make fire-hardened sticks, mere mortals don’t refuse to build a fire.’
Sappho drank her wine, watching them. Kineas barely knew her — Diodorus had introduced her, and she sometimes sat in a chair during their symposia and sang or played on the kithara, but he only guessed at her intelligence. She was another Theban — sold into slavery by Alexander. She was quiet, and her flows of good humour could be interrupted by sudden moments of deep unhappiness. But something in the way she looked at them across her wine cup suggested wisdom.
‘You have a suggestion, Despoina?’ Kineas asked.
She shook her head. ‘It is not my place,’ she said carefully.
Diodorus came up and took her elbow. ‘Sappho is as wise as any woman I have met — before she was enslaved, she was the daughter of a boeotarch of Thebes and the sister of another.’
Philokles smiled. ‘I am from Sparta, where women speak their minds and men listen,’ he said.
Sappho held her head up, thanking Philokles with a small smile. ‘Well, then — Demosthenes has help. And money. Deeper pockets than yours, lord, even with the money that Nicomedes left and with your share of the spoils. And he seeks to prevent the expedition because someone behind him wants it stopped.’ She regarded Kineas, and the weight of her eyes reminded him of Scythian women. He couldn’t remember a Greek woman holding his eye in such a way. ‘I have reason to hate Alexander, and I will do my all to see that he goes down choking on blood and cursing the gods. If I can be of aid against a slug like Demosthenes, pray command me.’
Kineas stroked his chin. ‘So if we spend money on buying votes, he’ll outspend us.’
Sappho shrugged. ‘I think he’s a deeper player than you think — or his master is. I think that he seeks to provoke you. He doesn’t expect to win this round, although he’d like to. He probably wants you to go on this expedition — while you remain, he’ll never have any power here. But it will be enough for him to start a story to your discredit, which he can use against Petrocolus and his son Clio when you leave.’ She raised a plucked eyebrow. ‘Am I not correct in assuming that you intend Petrocolus and his son to hold power here in your absence?’
Diodorus nodded. Kineas noted that although Sappho looked as if she had more to say, Diodorus cut her off without a second thought. Kineas saw the cloud pass over Sappho’s features even as Diodorus began.
‘Yes!’ he said. ‘Whatever Sappho thinks — and I’m sure she knows a great deal — Demosthenes is the sort that Pericles called an “idiot”. Out for himself and only himself. He seeks to discredit you so that, when you are gone, he can work to reclaim the inheritance — and perhaps use the case as a stepping stone to fill Petrocolus’s sandals.’ He turned to Sappho. ‘Who is the man’s master? Surely not Alcaeus?’
Sappho shook her head. ‘I do not know. But Alcaeus’s wife is Penelope, and she inclines — how may I say? — to the company of women. Through her I have learned what I have said. If I learn more, I will see to it that you gentlemen are informed.’
Diodorus gazed at her with unfeigned admiration. ‘I have always fancied political women,’ he said. ‘The company of women, indeed.’
Kineas rubbed his beard and looked at Philokles.
Philokles shrugged. ‘Spartan solution,’ he said.
Kineas looked a question.
‘Kill him,’ Philokles said.
Everyone in the room breathed in sharply, except Philokles, who poured himself more wine and chuckled. ‘A few days ago you held ultimate power in this town. In point of fact, you still do. Don’t play Athenian games with the wanker. Summon him for military service, and if he refuses, get the assembly to vote a punishment.’
They all spoke together. Diodorus shuddered at Philokles’ high-handed measures, and said so. ‘Anti- democratic!’ he shouted.
Niceas had just come in from drilling in the fields north of town. He listened to them, drank wine and grinned, a look that made him appear to be a demon or a monster. ‘Just threaten him,’ Niceas said into a lull.
Diodorus spoke dismissively. ‘In politics, never threaten. Only act.’
Niceas shrugged and held Diodorus’s eye until the other man’s air of superiority melted away. They were old friends — and sparring partners — and Niceas was reminding the other Athenian that for all his aristocratic airs, he didn’t have a grasp of assembly politics. And he managed it all with a raise of the eyebrow and a sneer.
‘Demosthenes is a fucking coward who ducked military service this summer. He’s afraid of his own shadow. I don’t mean an empty, blustering threat. I mean a little fucking terror and the promise of more.’ He looked right at Diodorus. ‘Let me arrange it.’
Kineas ran fingers through his beard — a habit he meant to break — and promised himself a shave and a trim. He finished his wine and grinned at them.
‘I think you are all right. I have to tell you what a pleasure it is to have such friends, and such advice.’
‘Beats moping and suffering in silence, doesn’t it?’ Philokles quipped.
Kineas ignored him. ‘Philokles, get some cash from Leon and put it out on the street. Niceas — give Demosthenes some idea of my unhappiness with his actions. Don’t get caught.’
