Alkibiades, a tale of the Great Athenian War

by Charles Hamilton Bromby

Even Lysandros, the assassin of three thousand valiant soldiers, prisoners of war, shrank from the suggestion when he understood the full meaning of the missive of the philosophic Kritias. Even he would rather not, if he could help it, stain his hands deeper, and in the blood of such a one as Alkibiades. Lysandros was himself, on his father’s side, sprung of heroic ancestry. He too was of the Herakleidai. He might massacre three thousand common soldiers, but he hesitated, and almost refused, to take a part in an act such as that which was suggested to him. He sent back an ambiguous answer.

Then Kritias wrote straight to the Ephors at Sparta. The influence of one whose power they knew so well was as much dreaded by them as by any of the Thirty; while to King Agis, the thought of revenge on his old enemy, his hated rival, was indeed sweet. The Ephors sent a peremptory order to Lysandros to compass, by all means, and speedily, the death or capture of the object of their fears. Lysandros dared not dally any longer with their command. He knew that Alkibiades was living at the court of Pharnabazos. He heard of the influence he was exercising over the satrap, an abler man than Tissaphernes, and of the splendid provision that the satrap had already made for him. He was in some doubt as to how Pharnabazos would act, but he sent a copy of the Ephors’ order to Daskylion, with a strong request to take immediate steps to carry out the Ephors’ wishes, adding a warning that any disregard of this request would be held to be conduct hostile to Sparta, as well as to Prince Kyros.

Pharnabazos thus found himself in a pitiable plight. He was not without a sense of honour—of Eastern honour. That sense of honour had lately been greatly outraged when the Athenian ambassadors to the late king were forcibly taken from him by the young Prince, and imprisoned against the honourable understanding of all civilized nations. He had endeavoured to make up for this, as far as he could, by his cordial reception of Alkibiades, the late Athenian strategos, at whose suggestion the embassy to Persia had been sent. Besides this, there was the oath of mutual friendship and hospitality between them. His former opponent was now his guest; as such his life was inviolable. He could not defile that sacred relationship with blood.

Moreover, he had conceived a more than common attachment for the Grecian warrior, who had sought his aid and friendship when driven off and hunted down by men of his own race. The old spell had been cast over him. He had always admired the man; to that admiration was added now a feeling of affection. Besides all this, the mission on which, with his concurrence, his guest was gone might very possibly succeed.

He determined that, come what might, he would not harm him. And yet the mandate was very plain; there was no mistaking it: he must either comply with it or forfeit the friendship, and incur the enmity, of the all-conquering Spartans. If Kyros was successful in his intrigues, and the threatened revolt should break upon them, what would become of his power, and of what value would his life be then? He hesitated. Then he bethought him of a compromise.

Alkibiades had been gone some days, the escort had returned, when the sanguinary mandate of the Ephors came to Pharnabazos. He argued with himself that if he merely suggested the wishes of the Spartan government to someone else, and left the rest to chance, he would not be responsible for the result, whatever it might be. And even if others, in consequence of the whispered suggestion, sought to do an act of violence, perhaps they might not overtake the brave Athenian; or if they did,—well, he bore a charmed life, so all men said, and might escape or overcome assailants. In any case he, Pharnabazos, would not be implicated in the deed. He would save himself, and perhaps his honour.

Pharnabazos had two relatives, a brother and an uncle, who lived near him at Daskylion. To them, in strictest confidence, he told his trouble, and the dilemma in which he found himself. He would not have even a suspicion cast upon his fame, and could not allow any injury to be done to his friend and former guest, but, he said, the burden that was laid upon him overwhelmed him; he asked them their advice how he could get rid of it. He confided to them how he wished that something, almost anything, would happen to take it from him.

Without another word, the two relatives set out upon the track of the travellers, taking some retainers with them.

By rapid marches they arrived at Synnada, a few miles from Melissa, where we left Alkibiades resting with his friends, after their long and tiring journey, seeking to gain fresh strength before they started on the more hazardous and less known way which lay between them and the Persian capital. Agrestides had noticed that his master, for the first time since he had known him, began to show signs of weariness while they were on the road, and, soon after they had reached Melissa, he told them of a foolish dream which had troubled him the night before, the meaning of which he could not understand. In his dream he fancied that a woman was supporting his head and looking sorrowfully at him, while she combed his hair.

The next night, sadly, as if from some presentiment that could not be overcome, he went early to rest. Timandra and Agrestides, having attended to his wants, retired to their own rooms, at a little distance from his, which was in the front part of the solitary house.