“so drives self-love through just, and through unjust,
to one man’s power, ambition, lucre, lust.”
pope.
it was eventide in the agora. booths were being closed for the night while merchants and customers were preparing to seek the comfort of their homes. gradually the streets became quite deserted except for a few dogs whose opportunity to feast came at the close of day when some of the refuse from the meat and vegetable markets lay about the stalls.
cimon on his way to dine at the home of pasicles nearly collided with a figure as he turned the corner directly in front of the shop of aphobus, a dealer in jewelry and vases. after the first moment of surprise at meeting anyone at this hour he recognized ephialtes. with a friendly nod and word of greeting he would have passed on his way, but ephialtes called him by name and indicated that he wished to speak with him.
“my dear friend cimon,” he began, “excuse me if i seem to intrude where your affairs are concerned, but after having been myself a witness to the evidence of your great passion for the girl ladice, i can not but desire to assist you and i believe i can be of some use to you in attaining your heart’s desire if you will but listen to me.”
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cimon detected the reek of wine upon the breath of ephialtes and fought against a desire to give some plausible excuse and hasten on his way, but the words of the latter undeniably aroused his curiosity.
“are you aware,” continued ephialtes, glancing about to make certain they were not heard, “that ladice is now a ward of the great themistocles.” ephialtes laid special emphasis upon the word “great” and looked keenly to note the affect of his words upon his listener.
cimon made an impatient gesture. “do you think to make me jealous of a man twice my age who has a family of ten children, and has probably taken ladice under his protection because he was a personal friend of her brave father who was killed at salamis?”
“indeed you misjudge me, my friend,” replied ephialtes assuming an aggrieved air. “i had not thought of him in the role of lover. but while she is under the protection of themistocles her mind must constantly be impressed by his opinions, and you know, yourself, that the statesman does not love you nor did he your father before you. and why, pray tell me, does themistocles hate you? ah, you hesitate because of personal modesty, but i will tell you why. it is because you are likely to become his bitter rival. he sees in you not only qualities which he himself possesses as a leader, but likewise some that you have inherited from your brave father. he fears to lose public favor, and you, would you hesitate to take for yourself that which he might lose?”
ephialtes could see that his words had touched a vulnerable spot.
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“it is true,” replied cimon, “that themistocles would never consent to my suit, but you forget that ladice does not return my affection.”
“with themistocles out of the way your chances with his ward are far greater,” persisted the other. “now i have a friend by the name of leobotes who for personal reasons, dislikes the statesman so much that he would gladly cause his downfall. leobotes is endeavoring to stir up public opinion against themistocles and thus bring about the latter’s banishment. with themistocles out of greece forever what is to prevent you from stepping up into his place? and once there you can see realized your ambitions of uniting sparta and the islands with us in an alliance, and at the head of hosts of faithful followers you can put down the revolts of our colonies. do you think that with you as tyrant of athens, ladice would continue to treat you with disdain? my dear fellow,” laughed ephialtes clapping him upon the shoulder, “she would gladly forget the disgrace in which your father died and would be proud to be the chosen bride of the idol of athens!”
cimon’s vanity could no longer resist the subtle power of ephialtes’ flattery. in his mind’s eye he pictured himself the envy of all men. he would first win the favor of the populace by his magnanimity, then he would rebuild the temples of athens that had been destroyed; the acropolis must have a splendid shrine to her goddess, and as ephialtes had said, the city must be on friendly terms with sparta. as he realized that all this which he visioned was possible of achievement he could scarcely hold himself in restraint. though it was already past the dinner hour at the home of the poet, cimon continued talking and planning with ephialtes, all else forgotten.
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“come with me now and i will introduce you to leobotes,” suggested ephialtes, and he was amazed at the readiness with which the other complied.
they threaded their way through the winding streets which without walks were lined on either side by the rough masonry of the houses. since it was past the hour of the evening meal they met parties of youths singing and laughing and exchanging coarse jests, all of which was a painful reminder to cimon of a period of his youth, not so long ago, that he would just as soon forget.
cimon did not trust ephialtes, but the well contrived scheme which the latter laid before him was irresistible. as they brushed by open doorways, obtaining brief glimpses of life within or heard occasional snatches of conversation, an ecstatic mood possessed cimon. might not he some day possess the power to change the lives of these people and to put his name upon their lips, his name spoken in praise and reverence!
as they approached one entrance, a pretty child, a girl of about ten years, sat upon the doorstep holding in her arms a very young infant. cimon paused, for he was always irresistibly drawn toward children, and drew aside the shawl which covered the baby’s face.
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“oho,” he laughed bending over the tiny figure, “behold, ephialtes, a future citizen of athens, and who knows,” he added meditatively, “the possibilities that lie in that small bundle of life. what is his name, child?” pinching the girl’s cheek. “a good name means a good start in life.”
the girl’s brown eyes flashed proudly. “we have given him a wonderful name. there is no better in athens. we call him themistocles.”
ephialtes laughed outright and pulled at cimon’s tunic. “come,” he said, “we must hurry on—to the business of naming the unborn citizens of attica.”
the house of leobotes was the last one before the widening of the street, where four other lanes like the fingers of a hand united at the palm, and the so-called “palm” was a small square beautified by an ornate drinking place. the two men refreshed themselves at the well before seeking to gain entrance at the home of leobotes. the owner himself answered their knock.
it is a peculiar thing that we are sensitive at times to the proximity of extremely agreeable or antagonistic natures, though they be out of range of sight or hearing. such a feeling of repellence cimon possessed as he stood at the doorway of leobotes. true he had never loved ephialtes any too well, but there was a subtle charm of manner in the handsome young greek that drew his victims toward him, an attraction that leobotes with perhaps no baser traits of character, lacked.
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leobotes was a thin man with a pointed beard of sandy color and shifty eyes of a nondescript pale blue variety. his appearance was anything but inspiring, and cimon felt his previous aspirations shrivel within him whenever he tried to meet the evasive glance of this friend of ephialtes. leobotes, as soon as he had been informed of the reason for the visit, set some wine before his guests and after taking a draught himself, rubbed his hands and smacked his lips as he turned to cimon, whom he had known by sight as the son of the hero of marathon.
“i am a patriotic and loyal citizen,” he began, “and i believe in promoting that which is for the good of our beloved city, and i believe equally,” he paused impressively, “in doing away with that which is a menace to athens. themistocles is only waiting his chance to sell our city and the freedom of its inhabitants to the highest bidder. how do i know? i was near him at salamis and i heard the messages he sent by his slave to the persian king, to block the greek ships up in the bay.”
“is it possible,” asked cimon deeply impressed, “that he sent such word to xerxes?”
“not only possible,” exclaimed leobotes, “it is a fact. as you know that was done too,” he concluded with an air of satisfaction.
“yes it was done,” cimon acknowledged, “but we won, did we not? terror fell upon the persians when they heard the loud chant of battle and the martial sound of trumpet from the greek ranks and soon ships, persian ships, were colliding, their oars—”
“yes, i know all that,” leobotes interrupted with impatience, “but that was all contrary to the way themistocles had planned, and i believe the purpose of the deed and not the result should be the cause of punishment to the perpetrator.”
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“if the truth were sufficient to convict him,” said cimon, “i should agree with you that the motive of an act is of primal importance, but do you not think banishment a very severe punishment unless the accusers can obtain the most convincing evidence against the accused?”
leobotes smiled as he said, “you are aware of the accusations of medism against pausanias. the lure of wealth and an eastern satrapy following his victory at platæa proved too attractive. just recently a slave sent by him with a message to the persian king was overcome by curiosity and upon reading the contents of the missive learned that he was to be put to death as soon as his message was delivered. so had all previous messengers between pausanias and xerxes met their fate in order that absolute secrecy might be maintained. this slave returned to greece and made known to the ephors the treachery of his master.”
“what did pausanias do?” asked ephialtes for whom the fate of a traitor possessed a peculiar fascination.
leobotes turned his pale eyes in the questioner’s direction, and to the latter his voice sounded like the utterance of judgment as he replied: “pausanias fled just yesterday to a shrine of poseidon in which place he feels secure for the present against any violence.”
all three were silent for a few moments. at length cimon asked, “do you believe themistocles to be implicated in this plot of pausanias?”
leobotes hesitated before answering. he did not like the reluctance which cimon showed in accepting what he, leobotes, liked to think of as proof of themistocles’ guilt.
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“it seems to me,” he answered evasively, “that all men who have tasted success in battle and have won public favor, sooner or later succumb to an insatiable yearning for worldly riches and glory no matter at what price.”
“now cimon is very different,” said ephialtes quickly, fearing that the trend of conversation was beginning to defeat the purpose for which he had sought leobotes’ help. “if cimon were to succeed themistocles as the leading athenian, he would accept no bribery.”
“no of course not,” agreed the older man, quick to comprehend the significance of the other’s remark. “there are some men whom one knows instinctively are above such deeds.”
feeling that this was a suitable remark for cimon to ponder, he arose and refilled the empty wine goblets.
“well what do you propose that i should do?” asked cimon after he had drained his cup.
“nothing for the present but talk,” answered leobotes. “you are popular and influential. a word from you will go twice as far as a lengthy speech from either ephialtes or myself.”
“do you really think my influence could be felt?” asked cimon as he arose to leave.
“my dear young man,” leobotes made answer, and his tone was ingratiating, while at the same time he turned and gave a knowing nod to ephialtes, “much is expected of you as the son of a brave soldier. your name is on the tongues of many, and there is only one man who stands between you and the highest of mortal attainments. need i say more?”
