Glory and the Lightning (68 page)

The next day he summoned the King Archon to meet him in his offices. The King Archon came with his retinue, elderly, composed and as alert as the old bird he resembled. Pericles received him with ceremony and seated him and ordered refreshments. The King Archon knew this was a grave occasion, and waited patiently, looking at Pericles thoughtfully and with an expression that told nothing. In his turn Pericles studied the old man, for whom he had small respect as he had small respect for all other members of his government. But now he saw that the King Archon had a kingly aspect, and that it was possible he was a man of verity. How unique it is, thought Pericles, to discover a man of probity in any government!

He lifted a sheaf of papers on the table between them. He then gazed at the King Archon with his pale eyes that could take on a baleful look.

“My son, Paralus, was wounded almost to the death by an assassin, or assassins,” he said to the King Archon. “But this you know. I have four names here, which are alleged to be those of the men who bribed criminals to kill my son. I also have their dossiers.”

The King Archon inclined his head. “Yes,” he said. “I have heard of your dossiers, Pericles, son of Xanthippus.” He paused. “You would not have called me here if you did not trust me.”

Pericles dropped his eyes. “I trust no man absolutely, not even myself. But I trust you as much as I can, which, I assure you,” and he smiled faintly, “is not in extraordinary measure.”

The King Archon smiled a little and again inclined his head. He drank some wine and ate a ripe fig or two.

Pericles gave him the missive Iphis had brought to him. The King Archon read it. He began to frown, and his bearded cheeks turned sallow with shock. At last he lifted his eyes and looked in aghast but quiet silence at Pericles.

“You do not expostulate,” said Pericles.

The King Archon shook his head. “I can believe anything of mankind,” he said. ‘Tell me. What do your dossiers show?”

“The Archon, Philemon: He is your cousin’s husband. A few years ago he was accused of bribing the charioteers of Athens in the Olympic Games. He had much invested. Our charioteers lost to Sparta. Though accused, he was never brought to trial, because of your high position, and the name of his house. The news was quietly suppressed. You will observe that the charioteers confessed, under holy oath. You will see that I have corroboration.”

He waited for a comment but the King Archon made none. “Ah,” said Pericles, “then you did not know.” The King Archon tried to speak but could not and Pericles looked at him in sympathy. “After all, it is considered a terrible crime to bribe anyone in the Great Games.”

The King Archon said nothing. Pericles sighed and continued.

“The Polemarchos Archon, Leander. He is in charge of metics, foreigners. For a large fee he had documents forged to show that many Ionians, not to speak of Persians, had their names inscribed in our public records as Athenians born in Athens. He did this because he had to return his wife’s dowry, and he had spent her money in unwise investments, which had all melted away like butter under the sun. It is curious,” said Pericles, “but he has been most stringent in his attacks on foreigners who were poor and desired only to come to Athens to work and practice their arts and live virtuously. Many of them, poor good men, were forced to leave our city, and lost all they had, which was very little in the very beginning. That was to assure his fellow Athenians that he held our city to be inviolate and not to be polluted by aliens.”

The King Archon retained his composure but his eyes flickered with pain. Pericles looked at the papers in his hands and said, “Tithonous, a respected member of the Heliaia, the Supreme Court, from which there is no appeal. He has persuaded many of his innocent fellow judges—by his vote and oratory—that various dangerous criminals were innocent, if they came of rich families or had political influence. He would weep over their wrongs, or say that they were young and heedless and meant no overt transgressions. He castigated fathers for the plight of their sons. The criminals went free. He received large sums from grateful parents for this.”

The King Archon closed his eyes as if he could not endure listening, but must.

Pericles said, still quietly, “Another member of the Supreme Court, Polites. His wife, of whom he had tired, died under mysterious circumstances. He is rich and powerful. You will observe the names of the men who swore that he was with them far away when she was stabbed to death in her chamber. They did that, not out of venality, but because it was unthinkable to them that a man of such a blameless character and sober mien could have arranged the murder of his wife. But, you will observe, I have received letters from the murderers, themselves, from their sanctuary in Syria. Even murderers, it would seem, have consciences, occasionally. Or, perhaps, they had received less money than they expected. Their letters are beyond doubt. They described the actual murder as only participants could do, for many of the vile facts were unknown except to officers of our police.”

There was a long silence in the office. The King Archon spread his hands, palm down, on the table in a gesture of misery. Then he said, “Pericles, you are not without guilt. These men should have been brought to justice. You did not speak.”

Pericles leaned back in his chair. “I am a politician. Moreover, these men did not commit further crimes. To expose them would have destroyed the trust, more or less, our citizens have for politicians—and I am a politician.”

“They did not commit further crimes because they feared that someone knew the truth about them.”

Pericles lifted his eyebrows. “True. But they did not know that I was the one. You asked me why I did not speak. Again, I must repeat I am a politician, and I have kept these dossiers for the day when I might need them. The day has come.”

The King Archon lifted his spotted hands and covered his face with them, leaning his elbows on the table, and Pericles felt compassion for him, for the old man was honorable. The King Archon said, “I, too, am a politician, but I would have spoken.”

“I do not doubt it,” said Pericles. “Perhaps you love Athens less than I do. It is also true that politicians keep their fellows in order, under threat of exposure. We scratch each other’s backs.”

The King Archon dropped his hands and his bright and youthful eyes were lucent. He said, “You scratch no one’s back, Pericles, and no one scratches yours. I have watched you for many years. I knew your father well. He was a hero.”

Pericles looked aside. “I am no hero, and have no pretensions to be one. My public life has been as clean as possible. I am guilty of no crimes against my country. Still, I am a politician.”

The King Archon rose and walked slowly and heavily up and down the room. Then he came to a halt before Pericles and said in a sick voice, “What would you have me do?”

“Summon these men, tell them that you are aware of their capital crimes, and that they must go into exile at once, for life.”

“You wish me to tell them of your dossiers?”

Pericles bent his head. “Yes, if you will. Tell them that if they depart without incident, without speaking, the dossiers will not be made public. Tell them I showed you the dossiers out of a spirit of public service, only.”

‘They will know it is revenge.”

“They have no way of knowing how I came by this information, nor that I suspect them of bribing murderers to attack my son. How could they know? Let them suspect, in their exile. They have no proof.”

“Why do you not confront them yourself, Pericles?”

Pericles’ smile was bitter and arrogant. “I am Head of State. I would not demean myself to accuse my fellow politicians, of inferior station. That is your function, not mine. Again, I was moved to inform you only because my conscience began to annoy me—though I came on this information only recently.”

“That is not the truth, Pericles.”

“No, it is not. But you will not be lying to them. You do not know how long I have had this information.” He paused. “I implore you to space the sentences of voluntary exile. I say, voluntary. Thirty days, at least, must expire between each rascal’s invitation to leave Athens forever.”

He pushed the papers towards the King Archon. “These are copies. I will retain the others.”

The King Archon looked at the papers as a man looks at vipers. “Would it not be better if I did not reveal the source of them?”

Pericles shrugged. “Perhaps. But I am only human. I should like them to ponder the rest of their lives and wonder if the information was given to you because I knew of their bribery to murderers, or,” and he smiled coldly, “that I was moved by civic virtue. It will make their years of exile interesting.”

“Knowing you, Pericles, I fear they will think it is civic virtue.”

“Perhaps. After all, they were my companions in arms. Let them believe that Nemesis overtook them. I will not know their thoughts, and that, to me, is regrettable.”

The King Archon took up the papers. “I am an old man,” he said. “I love my country. I have done no wrong to her, or her laws. This is very grievous to me. Had I had this information the malefactors would have been driven into exile long ago.”

“You arc no politician, then.”

The King Archon bent his head and shook it slowly and heavily. “I have heard that before, from my beloved hetaira. She has assured me that no honest man enters politics.”

“Let us encourage the honest men, then. Let us make it possible for honorable men, though poor, to enter politics. But that is only a dream of the perfect state, and no state is perfect.”

The King Archon sighed deeply. “I often think of Solon,” he said.

“So do I,” Pericles replied. “As much as the people allow me I attempt to enforce his laws. But, we must deal with the people and they are capricious!”

“And we fear them. Pericles, I will move as swiftly and as discreetly as possible. These men will be exiled—for their crime against your son—though they will believe it is for another reason.” He paused. “Why is it not possible to accuse them openly of the attempt on the life of Paralus?”

“On the unsigned word of an informer? Sire, who would believe it of such notable and ostensibly good public servants?”

“And you desire not to increase the mistrust of the citizenry for their government.”

“True. Not all politicians are venal. Incredibly, some of them are honorable men, and it is very hard for a man to remain honorable before a treacherous citizenry, who are, themselves, as fraudulent as their leaders.”

He added, when the King Archon was silent, “I could have had these men murdered, and they deserve death. You will observe that I am merciful.”

The King Archon smiled strangely. “No. I observe only that you love your country and would not have her plunged into chaos because of evil men.” He looked long at Pericles. “I, too, look at the acropolis in the moonlight. For the sake of Athens and her glory and beauty you would do anything, except the dishonorable.”

He took his departure, walking as weightily as a very old sick man and Pericles watched him go and his face was somber. He thought: The King Archon is wrong. I would do anything for my country, honorable or dishonorable.

CHAPTER 8

Pericles had believed the King Archon to be neither friend nor foe, but only a just man. His coldness and formality were even more notable than his, though he was never pompous. Therefore, he had few acquaintances and fewer friends. What he thought in private was never revealed, not even to his hetaira. When alone in his office with the damning papers before him the King Archon thought long and intensely. Pericles would have been amazed had he known of the respect and admiration the King Archon had for him, and how often he had rebuked his fellow Archons who had expressed rage or hate for or envy of the Head of State. The King Archon did not consider it wise to make personal friends of fellow politicians. That way led to subornation and the mutual “scratching of backs,” and was a betrayal of justice and of the people who trusted them. Justice and friendship, he would often think, are what Socrates would call a contradiction in terms. They who would serve justice publicly should keep aloof from human entanglements. So, he was a lonely old man, distant and cool even to his sons and daughters. If one of his sons had committed a crime he would have punished him as severely as any other criminal, with no outward aspect of distress.

He thought, as he sat alone in his private chambers: Pericles, after all, is only human. He would like these men, who are to be exiled, to know he was the avenger and the instigator, or, rather, suspect it for the rest of their lives. But that is most perilous for Athens, Pericles, and his family. These men have many powerful friends, and many male relatives of valor, and they would avenge the four, and they would eventually find means of destroying Athens through the destruction of Pericles. No, this must not happen.

He summoned Polites, Polites who had had his gentle young wife murdered—he, a member of the Supreme Court. The King Archon did not believe in lengthy explanations and accusations. Moreover, he must be sure that what had been revealed in the letter was true. So when Polites arrived, a man of fifty with a fine and aristocratic face, perfect manners and a candid expression, the King Archon, in silence, laid his dossier before him, and acutely watched his face. It turned a mortal white; his eyelids quivered; he seemed to grow old rapidly. So, it is true, thought the King Archon in despair. Polites finally looked up at him and said, “Lord, do you believe this libel?”

“Yes,” said the King Archon, at once. “But, I am merciful. Rather than give this information to the proper authorities I will keep my silence, provided you leave Athens forever, within two weeks.”

Polites cried out in anguish. The King Archon lifted his hand. “Your trial could be prolonged, in the way of the law, but the people would believe it, as they are inclined to believe anything of public officials. Truth will out, though many do not believe this. Long investigation would bring your case to the light of day. I have said: I am merciful. If you challenge this dossier you will be ruined. You are accused of a capital crime. You would be put to death, and your estates confiscated. Be silent, then. Tell your friends that you are leaving our city for a considerable period—for the sake of your health. You may then keep your estates and your family can abide with you.”