The Wooden Walls of Thermopylae Read Free Page A

really been listening.
    “Don’t be fooled by the apparent closeness of your master with Aristides, Megacles, Xanthippus and all the rest of that high born clique. For the moment they have similar interest in restoring the old principle of Eunomia and ending the stirrings of the Demos. Now the danger’s gone they want Themistocles and his new ways shut back up in their box. His talk of a new port and sea power leads to change and that’s the last thing they want.”
    I hadn’t understood the real significance of what he said and had replied.
    “But the Persian danger hasn’t gone away, it’s …”
    He cut me off.
    “You’re missing the point, Mandrocles. I’m talking city politics, not the real world. Of course Themistocles is right about the Persians and the fleet: but that’s not the priority right now. The priority is to marginalise Themistocles. That’s not easy so they link themselves to the great popular hero Miltiades. But the great thing about the Paros expedition for them is that it gets Miltiades out of the city.”
    I must have looked baffled because he interrupted his flow to ask a question.
    “Do you understand the objectives of the Paros expedition?”
    “No, but …”
    “Does anyone? Does anyone understand how it will work?”
    “The General knows. It’s his plan, it’s a secret.”
    “Exactly, and how will that look in the city when it fails?”
    “And that’s what Themistocles thinks?”
    “Of course.”
    “Then why hasn’t he warned the General?”
    “Why indeed?”
    He must have seen the bewilderment, then gradual understanding, cross my face because with a smile he answered.
    “Exactly, Mandrocles. Exactly now you begin to understand what goes on beneath the surface of our scheming city.”

Chapter Two
    We could see he was a dead man as soon as they let us into the court chamber. What I remember most is the smell of the wound: anyone who’s been in battle recognises that stench. He’d never taken the time to get the bone reset, splinted and cleaned on Paros. By the time he was back in Athens it was too late for the doctors to do anything and the gangrene was taking its slow and agonising course. Consequently when he tried to defend himself against the spite of his political enemies he was a dying man, barely conscious on a stretcher. He could scarcely draw breath, never mind speak for himself. So it was a death sentence for the General, whatever the court decided.
    Who would believe that something as ridiculous as jumping over a field wall could cause the death of such a hero? But it just about summed up that ill-conceived and badly executed expedition. Things had gone wrong from the start. We’d delayed too long securing bases and plundering smaller islands and by the time we reached Paros they were ready. After a siege of several weeks, we ran out of money and provisions and had to slink off home, having achieved nothing.
    When we got back to Athens they were on him like a pack of jackals: they’d stitched it up while we were away. Themistocles and the democrats accused him of wanting toestablish a tyranny and the conservatives charged him with defrauding the people. They’d even done a deal on who would be the chief prosecutor: Xanthippus.
    A small group of us, those who loved him and were brave enough, walked to the court in the armour we’d worn at Marathon. His brother Stesagoras led us hoping it would shame the jurors into remembering what they and the city owed to Miltiades. But they were beyond shame.
    Thus within a year of being hailed victor of Marathon and saviour of Greece, the great man was brought down. The charges were politically motivated and if they hadn’t have got him for this they’d have found something else. Democracy of vipers: the bile still rises in my throat all these years later.
    I don’t suppose he helped himself though; his raid on the island of Paros would have been foolish even if it had proved successful: it gave his enemies their