Tyrant (53 page)

Below, under the camp pavilion, Dionysius sat reading the reports of his informers, and waited. A servant fanned him with a flabellum and poured water into his cup and into a basin where he could wet his wrists every now and then.

Iolaus sat just a short distance away under the shade of a lentisc.

Much of the day went by thus, without anything happening. Then, towards mid-afternoon, they could see something going on at the top of the hill. The echoes of voices, seemingly raised in anger, reached them, and then a group of unarmed men began to wend their way to the valley, walking towards the pavilion. They were the same men that Dionysius had met the day before and they had come to offer the unconditional surrender of their troops.

‘I’m glad you have come to the right decision,’ replied Dionysius.

‘We beseech your clemency,’ began the man with the scar on his cheek. ‘Today fortune is on your side, but one day you could find yourself in our condition and . . .’

Dionysius interrupted him with a characteristic wave of his hand. ‘Tell your men that they are free to return to their homes without paying any ransom. There will be no retaliation on my part. All I ask is that a peace treaty be drawn up between us and signed by the authorities of the Italian League.’

The man looked at him in amazement, incapable of believing what was being said.

‘Can you guarantee that the League will sign?’

‘I can guarantee it,’ replied the officer.

‘Then go. Return to your cities and never raise your arms against me again.’

The officer did not know how to answer. He mutely searched the gaze of the man before him to find an explanation for behaviour that contrasted so completely with anything he’d ever heard about the tyrant.

‘Go,’ repeated Dionysius. ‘I will gather up your dead.’ And he took his leave.

They passed, armed, through the ranks of Syracusan soldiers who held their spears lowered as a sign of respect.

Ten days later the Thurians sent the signed treaty to Dionysius, with a golden crown.

Iolaus picked it up. ‘A sign of gratitude. It happens rarely. Clemency is the greatest merit of a leader, especially when he has won, and this gift has been given in recognition.’ Dionysius did not answer; he seemed absorbed in reading the document that the League had sent him. Iolaus waited until he had finished, then spoke again. ‘Can’t you really understand Leptines? You’ve done the same thing he did; I’m sure you must understand. If the sight of that massacre moved you to mercy, why can’t you pardon your brother?’

Dionysius placed the roll with the treaty on the table and replied: ‘My gesture has ensured the neutrality of the League, if not her friendship. It has freed my hands to take Rhegium; the city is now completely isolated.’

Iolaus could not hide his disappointment.

‘What did you think?’ asked Dionysius. ‘That I would give up my plan for sentimental reasons? Is it possible that you know me so little?’

‘Few people know you better than me, but it’s difficult to resign myself to the fact that what I have always loved in you no longer exists.’

‘Time changes everyone,’ replied Dionysius in a monotone. ‘You could have refused this position. Instead you accepted and you have taken Leptines’s place.’

‘It’s true. I’m the supreme commander of the fleet but there is a reason . . .’

‘Certainly. You want power, and you know you can have it only if I stay in power. If I fall, all of you will follow me into ruin. You might as well support me then, and not waste too much time on useless nostalgia.’

‘There is some truth in what you say,’ replied Iolaus. ‘And yet that is not the explanation. You forget that I am always capable of finding within myself a good reason for living, reasons that I have learned from my teachers and never disavowed.’

Dionysius regarded him with an enquiring expression.

‘The reason why I accepted his position,’ continued Iolaus, ‘is not because you asked me. It’s because Leptines asked me.’

He did not wait for an answer. He left the tent and rode his horse down to the sea, where the
Boubaris
awaited him, ready to set sail.

P
HILISTUS ENTERED THE
east wing of the barracks and approached the door to Leptines’s apartments, guarded by two Arcadian mercenaries. ‘Open it,’ he ordered.

‘No one can enter: orders of the supreme commander.’

‘I have command of Ortygia when he is absent and I assume complete responsibility for my actions. Open the door or I’ll call the officer on duty.’

The two warriors gave each other a look, then one of them drew the bolt and opened the door, allowing him to enter.

Leptines was lying on a cot with his back against the wall, his arms crossed and his gaze fixed on the wall opposite. He said nothing, nor did he turn. His eyes were red, his lips dry, his beard and hair unkempt.

‘You can’t go on like this. Just look at you, you’re a mess.’

Leptines did not answer.

‘I know what you’re thinking, and I feel no better than you do, but letting yourself go like this doesn’t serve any purpose. You must react! The Company has met and they are indignant over the way your brother has treated you, and I’d say they’re ready to . . .’

Leptines started. He turned slowly towards Philistus and said: You shouldn’t have. There was no reason for you to do so. I disobeyed orders and I’m suffering the consequences.’

‘I don’t agree. You were right, and I feel the same way you do. For years and years we stuck by him in his plans for an entirely Greek Sicily. We tolerated execrable operations because we envisioned a future of peace and prosperity, but now things are totally out of hand. He is taking openly hostile action against the Italian Greeks and I say no, this is no longer tolerable. I refused to negotiate the alliance with the Lucanians.’

‘And why didn’t you tell me?’ asked Leptines.

Philistus took a stool and went to sit next to the cot. ‘Because he didn’t let me. Maybe he thought I would convince you to see things my way, and he didn’t want that to happen. He had the negotiations carried out by men who never say anything but yes to him, and he never told you the whole truth. It was all done by the time you got there; you found a horde of barbarians massacring Greeks and you reacted as any civil person would have done. Leptines, for what it’s worth, you can still count on all my esteem and my friendship. And not only mine . . .’

He lowered his voice and continued. ‘The people are tired of these continuous wars, of seeing foreign mercenaries growing rich beyond measure and obtaining privileges that are not even granted to citizens. He continues to demand sacrifices in the name of a radiant future that keeps getting further away rather than closer. And with every passing day he becomes more gloomy, suspicious and intractable. He has an heir but he barely looks at the boy, even when he is at home. He says the child trembles as soon as he sees him, that he’s a little coward . . . do you see what he’s become?’

Leptines sighed. ‘I thought I’d bring the lad with me to the countryside, teach him to raise bees and chickens. I wanted to take him out fishing, but my brother is too jealous of him, he doesn’t want his son influenced by anyone but the tutors he has chosen. The problem is they’re brainless and heartless. They’re turning him into a wretch who will be afraid of his own shadow . . .’

Philistus took an apple from his pocket and put it on the table at Leptines’s bedside. ‘Eat this. Looks like they’ve been starving you here.’

Leptines nodded and bit into the fruit. ‘What is he doing now?’ he asked between one mouthful and another.

‘He has laid siege to Rhegium, but the city won’t give in.

Iolaus is returning with part of the fleet, but he is remaining. That’s what I’ve been told.’

‘Iolaus is a good soldier.’

‘Yes, he is. And it seems that Dionysius wants him in charge of our participation in the Olympics next spring.’

‘That seems like a good idea.’

‘Terrible. Not because of Iolaus. Because of the way our participation is being organized. We’ll make a laughing stock of ourselves. The Olympics are a pan-Hellenic celebration, but they are being held just as the Persians are laying claim to the Greek cities of Asia. And then we step in with our alliance with the barbarians against the Greeks. Does that seem wise to you?’

Leptines didn’t know what to answer.

‘I had a reserved meeting with the leaders of the Company, as I was saying,’ continued Philistus. ‘They are looking for a radical change. They are tired of this situation of perennial uncertainty, of the atmosphere that has taken root in the city. They are fed up with never being allowed an exchange of ideas with the person in command. Anyone who expresses a point of view which is different from his is immediately branded an enemy, a suspect to be followed, watched, even imprisoned. Many of them are much more favourable towards you. What you did at Laos is seen as a sign of the humanity that your brother has lost.’

Leptines tossed the apple core and turned away. ‘I won’t betray him, if that’s what you’re trying to suggest.’

Philistus bowed his head. ‘Do you see me as a traitor?’

‘You are a politician, a man of letters, a philosopher. It’s in your nature to examine all the options. I’m a soldier: I may not agree, I may be undisciplined, but my loyalty is never in question.’

‘But what we’re talking about here is loyalty towards your people. Doesn’t that count for you? Dionysius’s power is justified only if the people will be repaid in the end for their sacrifices, for all the tears and blood they have shed.’

Leptines didn’t answer.

Philistus walked towards the door, but before leaving, he turned. ‘There’s a person who wants to see you.’

‘It’s not as if I can move from here.’

‘She would come to you.’

‘When?’ asked Leptines, getting to his feet, visibly agitated.

‘Tonight, at the second change of the guard. You can trust the two men I’ll have posted outside. Remember . . . that I still love him as you do. Nothing has changed as far as I am concerned. I would still be ready to give my life for him if I had to. Farewell, my friend. Reflect on what I’ve said.’

Shuffled steps could be heard outside, low voices, then the sound of the bolt sliding and the door opened.

A woman appeared, her head and face covered by a veil.

Leptines took a lantern from the wall and held it close to her face. ‘Aristomache . . .’ he murmured as if he could not believe his eyes. ‘It’s you.’

The woman removed the veil and revealed her pale skin, huge black eyes, perfect nose.

‘Why have you come? It’s too dangerous . . .’

‘I can’t think of anything but you, here, alone, closed up like a thief. You who have risked your life so many times, suffered so many wounds, you who have always been at his side . . .’

‘He’s my brother and my supreme commander.’

‘He is unworthy of you. He has become cruel and insensitive. All he cares about is staying in power.’ Leptines turned towards the wall as if he didn’t want to hear those words. ‘Long ago, you told me you loved me . . .’ whispered Aristomache.

‘We were children.’

‘I was telling the truth, as you were. I’ve never forgotten, and neither have you.’

‘You are my brother’s wife.’

‘And so you scorn me?’

‘No, you’re wrong. I respect you . . . I worship you as if you were a divinity, as if . . .’

‘I’m nothing but a miserable wretch. I accepted an absurd proposal of marriage because my family obligated me; power was the only issue, even then. I have had to share my husband’s bed with another. No free woman, even the most unfortunate, has ever had to submit to such humiliation. Leptines, I’ve always felt your eyes on me. Whenever you were close, but even when you were far away. The eyes of a good man, a courageous man, who would have loved and respected me.’

‘It just wasn’t possible, Aristomache. Life has decided otherwise and we must accept this, resign ourselves.’

‘But I love you, Leptines! I have always loved you, since the first time I saw you with your tousled hair and skinned knees, punching it out with the boys from Ortygia. You’ve been my hero since then. I dreamt of you for my future, Leptines. I would have wanted a child from you, a boy, who looked like you, who had your light in his eyes . . .’