Alkibiades, a tale of the Great Athenian War

by Charles Hamilton Bromby

daring.’

On his return to Thurii Alkibiades found Kryptos had indeed gone and taken the Eros with him. So he waited there for news from Athens. It was not long in coming. He heard how, as soon as it was known that he had escaped at Thurii, the dikasterion, in his absence, had sentenced him to death and confiscated all his property.

‘But I will show them I am still alive,’ he said. No one ever kept a promise better.

As he was dead to his country by his country’s act, his country became dead to him. Great as had been his devotion to that country in the past, great as it would ever have been, had she been worthy of it, great as it was yet to be proved to be in the distant future, at this time the one thought which engrossed his mind became how to make his revenge as overwhelming in its destructive consequence as her injustice had been great to him. It was so complete and terrible that the vengeance of no man has been like to it in the history of the ages.

He despatched Agrestides to Messana with information to the chiefs of the Syrakusan party of the agreement he had made with their opponents to open the city gates to the Athenian army. With the rest of his companions he sailed for Elis and landed at Kylléné.

This Agrestides, who was trusted with the message to the leaders hostile to the Athenians at Messana, was one on whose judgment and quiet sagacity Alkibiades had found he could implicitly rely. He was originally a poor Arkadian shepherd boy, troubled with the wandering spirit which has driven many another boy to leave his home and happy solitude, to be tossed about on the world’s wide waves, to hope, and long, and travel, to see many lands and divers peoples, and die at last unknown, unrecognised, and be buried amongst strangers. He could not be contented to tend his sheep in the peaceful valleys of Arkadia. The spirit of unrest, of adventure, which came over him, he could not resist. The desire to be elsewhere, to get past the mountains which shut in his native plains, grew into a force which became ever more and more resistless. The constant itching to be gone spoilt all his happiness. When the father and the mother and all of them were there, in the small family festivities, the temptation haunted him. In the gray morning light, when the others were asleep, he would gaze where the coming sun began to tinge the clouds, and the longing to be there where the sun rose saddened his days, and when it set over the distant hills his fever to be away, to see the world, to leave his uneventful life, burnt into his brain.

He dreamed at night of other lands, and strange great cities, and the unknown, mysterious sea he had heard men talk about who had actually been on it. So he left his sheep, and his mother, all his people—only his brother knew for certain he was going and reaching Korinth, he got on board a merchant ship that traded with the East. He soon became a skilful sailor. He had strength and endurance, as well as an intelligence and shrewdness about him; and getting to Athens, he was in time noticed by the captain of the Eros, and engaged to serve with him.

From the time he first saw the owner of this wondrous craft he looked on him with awe and reverence. It so happened that he was able more than once to be of service to his lord. So when the Eros set out for Sicily, Agrestides—‘Aglestides’ his master, who was in the habit of lisping, always called him—was promoted, and kept in close attendance on the strategos. The Arkadian was captivated like the rest—the feeling of awe changed to one of loyal, distant, enthusiastic love, intense devotion. But what could the poor sailor say or do to show his admiration? One day, perhaps, he might do something. He might even save his hero’s life. Perhaps he might—best of all—show his affection by giving his life for him. He had both his wishes.

It was mid October before Alkibiades reached the mainland of the Peloponnesos. The people, when they heard who it was, went down in crowds to meet him. He made a triumphant entry into Elis, where, too, the people thronged to see the far-famed conqueror at the Olympic games, as though he had been some mythic hero of antiquity, who had come in this disguise to visit them, greater in disgrace than most men in prosperity.

He did not stay long in Elis. Plans were forming in his teeming brain, and must not be delayed. He sent to the Kings and Ephors of the Spartans for a safe-conduct to their capital, telling them that he might be able, as their friend, to do them greater service than, as their enemy, he had done them injury. The Lakedaimonians eagerly invited their old opponent to come to them at once; he as eagerly left the Eleian capital for Sparta. Before the winter had set in he found himself, for the first time, among that hard and rugged people.