Gary Corby - The Ionia Sanction

“I won’t. I’ll tell you. Because it doesn’t!” He laughed as if he had won some triumph. “There must be infinitesimally small pieces of all the other types of matter in the pot as well, but because the vast majority of the pot consists of clay particles, it seems to us to be all clay. We don’t notice the other particles, the impurities, which could be of stone, or water, or-”

“Horsehair?” I suggested, smiling. “Or nose hair?” The man was clearly mad. But I noticed Socrates had stopped serving and leaned over my couch in a most unslavelike manner, hanging on his every word.

“Correct, you understand. And now then, young man, what made most of the clay particles come together to form clay, and most of the air particles come together to form air?”

“Hmm. Anaxagoras, I am so stunned by your blinding revelation, I can barely think…”

“It was the Mind, young man, the universal Mind! There is a Mind that moves the parts of matter to form the world we experience!” He was almost shouting, and he waved his arms about.

Socrates was so totally absorbed that he forgot himself and said, “But sir, how does the Mind know what to make, and why does it do it?”

Anaxagoras stopped in mid-exult, and looked at me with a quizzical expression. “You allow your slave to speak?”

“I’ll beat him when I return home. In the meantime, I would take it as a favor if you could bestow your wisdom to answer his no doubt ridiculous question.”

Anaxagoras rubbed his chin and said, “On the contrary, the question is a deep one and would require considerable time to answer fully. It is true there are some fools, claiming to be philosophers, who make this very objection to my theory. To hear the same point from the mouth of this simpleton slave boy only goes to prove my belief that their arguments are worthless. Nevertheless, there are some subtle points involved. Let us begin.”

I wish I could record the ensuing conversation, but I confess my eyes glazed over within moments. Anaxagoras spoke at length, and when he was finished, Socrates responded with something I didn’t follow at all. Anaxagoras however did, and forgetting that he talked with a boy, and a supposed slave, the two of them became immersed in their argument. I gave up and held out my cup for a refill.

“Your slave boy appears to be a lad of some talent,” Callias remarked.

“Callias, I have a confession to make-”

He laughed. “I noticed early in the evening. Also, I met your brother previously, when he was here with your father. It would not be the first time an inquisitive lad entered a symposium before his time.” He glanced over at his other guests. “They will be in conversation for some time. Let me see if I can untangle Pericles from my admiring son. Have you noticed everyone wants to know Pericles now that he’s the most influential man in Athens?”

Callias ordered two slaves to carry Pericles’ dining couch next to his own, thus placing himself, Pericles, and me slightly apart from the others.

Callias said, “We must speak of state affairs, and the death of Thorion, of which Pericles has told me. Forgive me for raising such matters at a symposium, but time rushes.”

I said, “I have important news.” I began to tell them of Asia the slave girl.

“You paid how much for her ?” Pericles fairly shrieked, loud enough that everyone in the courtyard stopped their own talk to look our way.

It was an awkward silence. Callias quickly motioned to the slave boys to refill cups, and called for flute girls to play music. Two girls appeared from the shadows of the porch. They began a lilting, soothing tune and walked among the couches. The other guests turned back to their neighbors.

I said quietly, so that only we three could hear, “She was worth every drachma, Pericles, I swear it. Listen to what she had to say.”

I was gratified to hear exclamations of surprise from both Pericles and Callias.

“Is she telling the truth?” Pericles asked when I finished. The puzzle of the girl’s origin had at least made him forget for the moment the bill that was coming his way.

Callias looked thoughtful. “Themistocles did have a young daughter at the time he was ostracized. Your woman-child would be the right age, and I happen to know the infant’s name was Asia. The family was spirited away after Themistocles was condemned for treason.”

“How did they escape Athens?”

“A friend named Epicrates smuggled the wife and children out of the city. There was suspicion he had help, but he was the only one discovered.”

“Then Epicrates might recognize the girl. Would he speak to us?”

“I’d be surprised if he said anything at all. He’s dead. The Athenians took the view that a man who aids a traitor is a traitor himself and applied the usual penalty.”

I shook my head and said, “Epicrates got what he deserved. I don’t understand how anyone could do anything so obviously wrong.”

“Sometimes the pressures on a man can be intense,” said Callias mildly.

“Intense enough to turn him against his own city? It’s hard to credit.”

“Ah, the lack of imagination of youth.”

All three of us stopped to drink, each thinking his own thoughts. I had passed from the point of being careful how much I drank, to the point of telling myself another one wouldn’t hurt. As the slave took away my cup to refill I said, “If the family of Themistocles had to escape, then what of the family of Thorion?”

Pericles said, “The son will be suspect for years to come. He can forget about holding public office. His neighbors will turn against him. The household will probably be harassed. Any daughters will find it hard to get husbands.”

“It hardly seems fair. The whole family aren’t criminals.”

“It’s the way in Athens,” said Callias.

Pericles said, “Nicolaos, I’m expanding your mission. Find whoever wrote that letter, learn what was in it. When you’ve done that, return the girl to Themistocles in Magnesia, and while you’re there, find out what in Hades the man is up to.”

“But wouldn’t that be spying?”

“You understand. Excellent.”

“No need to think of it in quite such blunt terms,” Callias said smoothly. “Themistocles will naturally be grateful when you return his daughter. Take the opportunity to stay a few days and observe anything of interest. Nothing could be simpler. When you return to Athens, tell us what you saw.”

“When you put it like that … very well. As you say, it would be perfectly natural.”

Callias said, “At Ephesus there will be a proxenos for Athens, whose duties are the same as Thorion’s, only in the opposite direction, including forwarding mail. He will know at least the names of everyone who sent something in the last batch. The proxenoi of two cities deal with each other frequently.”

“What if the proxenoi get too friendly?”

“It’s their job to be friendly. The rest of us supply all the mutual suspicion you could want.”

Pericles said, “Someone has to tell the Ephesians their proxenos here in Athens is dead. That can be you. It’s the perfect excuse to arrive and ask a few questions.”

I asked, “Are you a proxenos, Callias?”

“I am indeed. I assumed the proxeny of Sparta after the man who held it, my brother-in-law Cimon, was ostracized. The proxenos normally has some family connection with the city he acts for.”

“What was Thorion’s connection with Ephesus?”

“I don’t know.”

I made a note to find out.

“Why was Themistocles condemned?”

Callias sighed. “Never has a man risen so high and fallen so low, nor been more dedicated to his own self-interest. At the first Olympics after the war, the whole stadium rose to give him a standing ovation. The Spartans gave him an honor guard of three hundred citizens, an unprecedented compliment. But then he made a lot of enemies in Athens by his arrogance. The actual charge was treason with the Persians, but his real crime was fear he would make himself tyrant over us.”