Alkibiades, a tale of the Great Athenian War

by Charles Hamilton Bromby

The first day’s sport concluded with music and selections from the ‘Ajax’ and ‘Agamemnon’ at the larger theatre. Alkibiades was loudly cheered as he came in with the missions of Thebes and of Athens. And after that came a brilliant feast, at which the Eleans entertained the representatives of the various states and all who had come to try for prizes at the games.

On the second day a race for hoplites, heavy-armed soldiers, with nothing on but their shining greaves and helmets and carrying their shields, opened the proceedings. Then a chariot race, won apparently by the Boiotian federation—at least, in their name the chariot had been entered, and as a Boiotian victory it was proclaimed. But then a curious scene occurred. A rich and well-known Lakedaimonian named Laches, who was allowed to be present as a private person, but was not permitted to take part in the contests, because of the conduct of his countrymen, unable to restrain his pride, rushed forward eagerly and placed a wreath upon the head of the victorious charioteer, an act which implied that he, and not Boiotia, was the real owner of the chariot. The people were indignant at the trick by which the Spartan attempted to outwit them and to set the order of the sacred games at nought. The Elean guardians of the course, seizing the offender, punished his act of disobedience by scourging him, and drove him from the ground.

On the third day, after many other races, came the pentathlon, in which the victor had to excel in the fivefold exercise of running, jumping, wrestling, and throwing the spear and the diskos. The name of him who won the prize for these combined accomplishments has not come down to us. Then, last of all, came the greatest of the races, in which the four-horse chariots of different states—Korinth, Miletos, Chios, Samos, Argos, Lesbos, Athens, Abydos—took part, and also the private chariot of Alkibiades. The Thebans, who had won on the first day, prayed that they might be suffered to contend again in this the crowning struggle. They were especially pledged, if possible, to beat their rival Athens; and, indeed, as the end proved, they did excel the architheoric chariot. By consent of all the judges Thebes was allowed to race, although already victors at these games.

Whatever attention had been given to the various events by those who cared especially for this or that peculiar form of emulation, it was all concentrated now on the closing contest. Some thought they could trace signs of anxiety on the face of Alkibiades, as he assisted Tolas to mount the lightly-built, well-balanced vehicle, and could catch almost a pathetic look as he stroked the manes of those dear horses who knew his touch, and neighed with equine love as they turned their heads and saw their master, giving promise that, come who might against them, they would do what in them lay to bring him glory and repay the care he had bestowed upon them. How many times in after-years he thought of those so cherished animals, their more than human fidelity!

But now it was time to take his place among the great men and hide all traces of emotion. It was for this moment he had longed so many years, of this he had so often dreamt by night, to this, when a boy, he had looked forward as the great effort of his life—his worthiest effort. Now it was here—the very moment was arrived.

He was speaking courteously to those near him—men whose names would live in their various cities for generations not yet born; but he saw them indistinctly, or as in a dream. His thoughts, his eyes, were there where ten chariots stood abreast and forty horses were waiting for the signal to be given, their hearts leaping with excitement, feeling as though wings had come upon them and they must fly. And off they went; the cries were deafening. Seas of faces watched them upon their way; seas of faces greeted them as they turned the corner and the first round was run. ‘Thebes and Boiotia!’ cried the crowd, as the victor of the first day’s race was seen to lead. ‘Thebes and Boiotia!’ yelled the Thebans, and all who took their side. Thebes and Boiotia seemed, indeed, to be about to gain the double prize.

Here they come round for the last time, and the trumpets sound a gallant flourish. Now they near the end. Thebes and Boiotia first—not much ahead of Tolas there, just behind, as calm as his master tries to be—now scarcely ahead at all. ‘Ye gods, a hundred victims if I win!’ And as he stretched forth head and neck, forgetting his affected carelessness, among the mass of faces gazing all one way, peering to catch the first sight of the flying chariots, the horses straining every nerve and sinew of their frames, he met the great eyes of Sokrates turned full upon him.

Some had come to sell their wares: painters to puff their pictures; sculptors to show their graven images; authors to recite their works, if they could get a chance; most had come to watch the games and races. Sokrates had come to watch mankind, and amongst them one he cared for more than all the rest.

It was no time now to notice Sokrates. The chariots were scarce three hundred yards to where the winning-post was waiting for them, when, as with a bound into the air, the four bay horses brought their car up to and right ahead of all the others, and shouts arose: ‘Boiotia’s beaten! Tolas comes in more than two chariot-lengths ahead! Athens and Alkibiades!’

He heard no more distinctly. The hills went round for a moment, a mist came over them; he felt his hands grasped by many a rough and horny palm, and then he heard an endless shouting in his ears, and he felt somewhat ashamed as he wiped away a few big drops that had started from his forehead, and one or two others that had gathered to his eyes.