The Three Sons of Euphorion Chapter 2

She was gripping the boy around his shoulders and her wet mouth was plastering his face with feverish hot kisses. He struck out his fist at her vixen eyes and she was gone. He looked wildly around but her wraith had floated out of his bed chamber window into the night air. Only he lay in his bed chamber, naked in the asphyxiating Attica summer heat. He silently cursed the Goddess Aphrodite for her nocturnal revisit to his bodily temple. Over several nights in this Summer, she had come to his bedchamber as the old nurse, as the wife of the steward, and as the Phoenician serving girl. As the Phoenician girl she had come this time. Each time she had lain over him and conjured his psyche until he was aglow and throbbing. He looked down and saw again Aphrodite's night dew.

Aeschylos got out of bed and paced the floor. He longed for a cool cup of water. His head ached, and his throat was parched and scaly like a snake. He must get water or he would faint. He slipped on his tunic and left the chamber. His heart pounding, disturbed only by the creaking and cracks of the shrinking house timbers, he crept along the corridors and down the stairs. He thought all else was asleep. But when he passed the door of the men's dining chamber, he was startled to overhear old familiar voices and see through the door cracks a flickering lamp light.

His father Euphorion was saying in a strangely conspiratorial voice,

The tyrant Hippias must pay at last for his and his family's crimes against the laws of Solon.

Then his brother Cynegiros snapped,

The Pisistratidae have been for fifty years a nest of vipers among us.

Aeschylos could not doubt the familiar fury in his voice.
Then the Spartan voice spoke.

We Spartans do not doubt that Hippias is the lawful lord of Athens. Our army would prefer to march to preserve his authority and hang you revolutionaries. But we pious Spartans will always be faithful to the oracle of Delphi.

There was instant silence. The Spartans voice was of a dry mumbled timbre. Aeschylos imagined the smirk and the mocking eyes behind his words.

I myself would strangle you Athenian cockatoos with my bare hands,
another voice boomed suddenly in the silent night.

Aeschylos picked that voice to belong to the Spartan officer's companion. He was as big as Heracles, with brooding eyes and a stupid sleepy face. When these two strangers had arrived that day, they had treated the household slaves like stubborn mules. Several of the men slaves had gestured obscenely behind their backs while affecting an obeisance that had startled Aeschylos. The boy had not liked the way the big Spartan had coolly all evening studied his eyes all over his growing body. He had felt the eyes boring into his tunic. After supper, he had been glad to excuse himself from his couch and slip over to his bed chamber. Under the bright moon through his window, he had read under his breath the Homeric song of the friendship of Achilles and Patrocles.

He crept past the dining chamber door and made his way to the courtyard. The sky was brilliantly light. Aeschylos stared up once into the sky and whispered a short placatory prayer to Artemis. He cupped his hands and drank slowly from the well. The dogs rattled their chains but not one barked.

When he returned into the house, the men's voices were hushed so he could only pick up names of familiar landmarks. He thought they might be talking about the Spartan army foraging through Attica on a march to the Acropolis of Athens. He slipped past their door and crept upstairs to his bed chamber. Inside, he threw off his tunic and lay back on his bed. Then his thirst promptly returned and he felt suddenly terribly cold and a little dizzy. In a few moments, he wondered into a desultory sleep.

The icy cold crept all over his body and pierced the air. Monstrous forms took shape and gathered and floated inside his head. He discovered he was inside a great silent crowd of people. So many were their numbers that nothing could be seen around him but the crowd. A large rocky hill stretched its looming view in front of the people. Aeschylos found he was holding the hand of his mother. Everyone was bound in woollen winter cloaks against the cutting freezing air.

His father Euphorion suddenly picked the boy up and swung him over his wide shoulders. From his new vantage point, the boy could see over many hundreds of heads into a small temple. A melodic pipe filled the silent air. Aeschylos was familiar with that windy sound. Many a time he had heard it echoing through the Eleusinian hills from the shepherd boys. Every time, and now again the sound filled him with feelings of contentment. Perched on his father's shoulders, there could not be any safer place.

Then he noticed some unearthly figures entering from behind the temple on to the flat ground at the foot of the hill. They were wearing men's cloaks, and their faces were of young men frozen into fixed grimaces. Where their eyes should have been were empty sockets. Aeschylos found his heart was pounding, and if he had been alone he would have screamed in panic. As if on cue, a mournful dirge issued from these unearthly figures. The pipe accompanied their sounds with its own mournful wind.

Aeschylos was familiar with those sounds too. It too on rarer times issued forth from the hills in the evenings. Everyone around him, free people and slaves would sigh and speak of a death. The boy would be filled with a gloom and a wondering.

The unearthly figures were crouched and bobbing their heads and slowly rocking their arms. Aeschylos was reminded of rowers on a ship in the sea. Then he thought they were departing from their ghostly ship. A startling new figure thrust himself through them and stood majestically before the crowd. His robe was spun of the finest wool and dyed in the lushest purple. Aeschylos had never seen before so brilliant a colour. It dazzled the air under the downcast sky. He stood several inches higher than the young men behind him. His face and brow appeared of a nobler wiser character even though he had the same frozen grimace. But his penetrating gaze shone through the empty eye sockets.

A deep long sigh swept through the crowd. Heads nodded everywhere.

Theseos!, the crowd echoed in ten thousand awed whispers.

Aeschylos heart leaped to his throat. Somewhere babies cried and even their sounds seemed knowing. Theseos the incarnation of the hopes and ideals of all Athenians was standing before all his people as a man. In a powerful deep voice to the stirring accompaniment of the pipe, he too began to sing. Aeschylos now found he could understand. Theseos was telling the people they were at the court of King Minos. King Minos had chosen him and these young Athenian men to sacrifice to the Minotaur. Aeschylos needed no prompting to know the story.

A new figure came from behind the young men. She wore the embroided red robe and over her shoulders was the head with gold necklace and coiffured curls of a young aristocratic woman. Aeschylos knew at once she was the Cretan Princess Ariadne. But her face was frozen into a coquettish smile. He knew what she was doing when she slipped something into Theseous' outstretched hand. Ariadne disappeared into the crowd of young men.

The Athenian male chorus now stood silent and frozen into a labyrinth of statues. Theseus dropped the line of thread to the ground and in a crouching position weaved himself and the thread between the labyrinth. He was suddenly gone behind the temple. The pipe started a bellowing hoarse wind. Through the labyrinth, the Minotaur pawed the air. Aeschylos was familiar with the dangers of an angry bull.

A deep sigh filled the crowd when Theseos reappeared in battle mode. The Minotaur bellowed and pawed the air before him. Theseos seized his horns and they wrestled with the might and skill of Athens' Olympic champions. Both it seemed were equal competitors. The Athenians watched in a silence disturbed only by the beating wings of birds on the temple roof. In a great shudder and bull roar, Theseos lifted the Minotaur above his shoulders and flung him to the ground. As the Minotaur hit the ground, the earth beneath the Athenians quaked. A mighty roar issued from its bowels. The temple began to creak and shudder. The hill seemed to fall towards the crowd. Aeschylos' heart soared at the power of Theseos' shoulders and throw and the gigantic weight of the Minotaur. He was astonished when Euphorion's hands swept him off his shoulders and grasped him frantically to his chest. He glanced up at his father's face and read terror in his eyes. Then the screams began. The ground continued to rock like a boat on the sea.

Poseidon is punishing us for our sacrilege to his son Theseos. The actor Thespis has caused this by his counterfeit, an angry woman's voice called from inside the crowd. You Athenians reek of your perjury.

Then people in front began to kick a road through the crowd. Euphorion picked up Aeschylos under the crook of his arm and with his other hand grasped Cynegiros. As Euphorion turned, he tripped his foot inside a fox hole. As he fell heavily, Aeschylos' head struck a stone. His mother screamed and picked up the boy. Inside his mother's arms, Aeschylos saw a blackness grow and cover over his eyes.

When he awoke, he was back inside the inn with his parents and his brother. He was lying on his parent's bed and a strange face was looking over him.

He is now awake, the strange face spoke.

All his family with cries of joy embraced and kissed him. Aeschylos could read in his mother's eyes the same terror he had read in his father's at the Dionysian festival.

The stranger smiled through his rotten teeth. He told Aeschylos he had been sleeping for three days. He must now stay in bed until he felt well enough to walk about and take food.

They departed several days later back to their estate in Eleusis. Aeschylos learnt the quake had stopped at the moment his head had hit the stone. Thespis had calmed the Athenians with a propriety prayer to Poseidon to forgive the pride of the Athenians. He beseeched the indulgence of the God to their counterfeit. Theirs was nothing but patriotic and respectful to the city and her Gods. Then when silence was restored, Thespis had continued the play without a change of breath.

The crowd of Eleusinians were good natured and festive on their return to their estates and farms. But a chill had settled on Aeschylos heart. Only now did he learn ordinary men were playing as Theseos, Ariadne and the Minotaur. Only last year, he too had pretended to be Theseos and the little daughter of the goatherd had played as Ariadne. He had sung her a lullaby and kissed her lips to lull her to sleep. The goatherd had suddenly descended upon them. He had roughly picked up his child and slapped her across her ears. Then he had turned on Aeschylos.

Young master, you will make my goats sicken by your playing the Gods. Be off with you back to your nurse.

Aeschylos had run off in mortification and terror.

A thought that he dare not mention to anyone filled him with a secret anxiety. As everyone in the city had tricked him into believing real the counterfeit, was there anything that he could now believe? Was he the only real thing in a great play of counterfeits? Was he himself Aeschylos the son of Euphorion and not one of the thin ragged slave children that worked and played on the estate?

The place that Aeschylos woke up to after his three day sleep resembled in every way the old as an actor's mask resembles the real person. Often it seemed to him, he now lived like a fish in a great still ocean. He now spoke and walked about like a reveller of his father's rich red vines. His words came jumbled out of his mouth and spittle flowed down his chin. People and things around him assumed sometimes unearthly and terrifying shapes. Sometimes a demon seemed to enter inside his head and trick him into wild and stupid acts. Then he would laugh idiotically, break objects and bang his head to stop the buzzing inside it. His brothers and the slaves would shake their heads. Euphorion would not speak but look grievously upon him. Only his tutor Aristotle would hold him still until he was calm. At those moments, Aeschylos was filled with remorse and would pray to Athena to restore his senses.

Sometimes especially after sleeping, Aeschylos could move his limbs only with enormous effort.

His nurse Cilissa had often taken him to her village. The old bare gummed village woman in their black robes had filled him with terror. They had mingled in his earliest memory with angry salivating dogs and slithering house snakes. Now his infant dreams of black robed old women with the breath and stench of dogs and with snakes coiled over their heads returned. They danced and shrieked in his sleep, and in his head in his waking hours. He was too afraid to talk about them to anyone but pleaded with them to leave him.

Sometimes when his head was disturbed, extraordinary thoughts rushed out of it. For some days he believed there was buried under the earth a lithographic stone that would make the finder the wisest man in Greece. By chanting made up nonsense riddles, he once thought he knew the spot to dig.

He found a spade and dug the earth while the sun was high in the sky. When the sun was approaching the horizon, he felt a familiar arm on his shoulder.

Whoa there, said Aristotle.

The boy and the tutor studied the tossed earth and the hole. The boy now felt stupid and ashamed.

If you go on digging, you will reach Ethiopia where the black people live with Hyperion, the sun God, said Aristotle gently.

Aristotles' words excited the boy. He had never seen black people although he had heard about them.

Is it true they are burnt black by the sun and they carry wool instead of hair? he asked eagerly and peered into his tutor's grizzled face.

Aristotle nodded sagely.

So I have read in the books of the historian Hecataeos of Miletos, and heard from travellers from Egypt.
I know Ethiopia means the land of the black people. But why is Egypt Egypt?

Aristotle cleared his throat. He took Aeschylos by the hand and led him to an olive grove. They sat down under its shade and Aristotle put his arm around the boy's shoulders. Aeschylos waited excitedly for a lesson even though that day was a holiday.

I have heard that the Egyptians call their land, Kemet. In their language that means the black land. The land of Egypt is black from the silt from their river the Nile which is their great nourisher. Hecataeos wrote that Egypt is the gift of the Nile. Only we Greeks call Egypt Egypt. There was once a King of Egypt, King Egyptos. He was descended from Zeos and Io of Argos.

Aeschylos knew at once that Argos was the old city of King Agamemnon near Sparta in Achaea. He also suspected that the King of the Gods, Zeos had been up to his old amorous tricks. He had first heard about them in the cradle from his nurse.

Aristotle saw the recognition in Aeschylos' eyes and smiled.

Io was a priestess in Hera's temple. Zeos saw her and descended from the sky to join her. Jealous Hera, the Queen of the Gods, turned the virgin into a cow. But that did not daunt Zeos. He turned himself into a bull.

Aeschylos did not need explaining. Only yesterday morning, he had watched his father's chief bull mount his favourite heifer. The bull had roared menacingly and the heifer had submitted with scarcely a struggle. Aeschylos had watched intently until a slave had shouted to him to go away. Then he had heard the slaves laugh and cheer that old Zeos could still spray his seed. Aeschylos had known they meant a calf would one day be sucking the cow's udder. He had always somehow known that all living creatures, even Gods and men, are born from seeds sprayed from their fathers and nourished in the bellies of their mothers.

Aristotle stayed silent for a momen, then continued.

Hera undeceived put the heifer under the guard of hundred-eyed Argos. Io escaped, but Hera pursued her with a gadfly.

Aeschylos shuddered at the pain of Io. His heart had bled many times at the agony of his father's cattle moaning and tossing to the attacks of flies.

The gadfly drove Io to Memphis in Egypt. There Zeos with his touch restored Io to human form. Later they had a son, the dark skinned Epaphos, the first King of Egypt. Fifty sisters, five generations later, fled back to their ancestral land Argos. They were fleeing from the lust of their fifty cousins who were the sons of King Egyptos.

What happened to these women?
asked Aeschylos anxiously.

The people of Argos took the side of their kinswom even though they were Egyptians. The sisters tricked their cousins by agreeing to marry them. On the wedding night, each slew her cousin with her sword. All but one did so, her name was Hypermnestra. She founded the royal line of Argos Kings, Aristotle sighed.
The treachery of the royal women of Argos began then and ended with the regicide Queen Clytaemestra and her matricide daughter, Electra.

Aeschylos' was suddenly sleepy from his exertions. The misdeeds of Gods and old Kings and Queens disturbed him. All things belonged to them. Therefore they should be the wisest and best behaved off all. Then it crossed his mind that Athens must have a King too.

Who is the King of Athens?
he asked.

He expected the answer would issue from his tutors lips at once. Instead there was a silence so drawn out and pregnant that he started alarmed. The natural order of things could not be overthrown in his father's estate!

Greece in these days has few Kings. There are still Spartan Kings. But Sparta is so old fashioned she is satisfied with two. Everywhere else their subjects have expelled their Kings and rule their cities instead. When a group of the best men rule a city, they are called the aristocrats. When one man rules a city, he is called a tyrant. In some unlucky citieìs, the lowly born money grubbers rule. They are called the oligarchs.

And who rules Athens?
asked Aeschylos.

Aristotle sighed.
You are a sophist. Good questions get cities into deep trouble with their rulers. Two tyrants rule Athens. Their father before them was tyrant and they succeeded him two years before your birth.

Then are they not Kings?
asked Aeschylos.

There was another long silence. Then Aristotles' words were like the selection of stones in a dangerous river.

Kings were chosen by the Gods and often walked and talked with them. The Gods stay on Mount Olympos now and speak to mortals through their oracles and dreams. On emergencies, they may come down to earth but they are as likely to talk to you or me as to a tyrant. Our tyrants are the masters of all Athenians as your father is my master. That is what the Athenian Gods have decreed for us. Your father can brand and whip me. I leave an offering every morning to Athena that he will not sell me.So can the Athenian tyrants be lord of life and death of us all.

But that cannot mean we will all be slaves for ever,
cried Aeschylos.

Like every Greek of a proud family, Aeschylos had thought he would kill any man or child who stole away his honour. And now his tutor was telling him a strange man owned him and his family as his father owned his tutor.

Aristotle shuddered and glanced around. But he and the boy were alone in the gloom of dusk.

We must go inside before you catch a chill. No one is a slave for ever to any man. But as long as I live I must be a slave because my Gods of my city have deserted me. But the Gods of the Athenians still have their temples and shrines in Athens and Attica. The Athenians must be loyal to their tyrants and obey their laws until one day they are stronger and braver than they are. Then they will killthem or send them packing. Then all Athenians can rejoice in their new freedom which was the old freedom of their ancestors. I am a slave and you are a boy. But one day you will be a man and I shall be a withered up old thing. Then it will be a destiny that only the Gods may know.

As the first rays of dawn drew Aeschylos from his sleep, he had recalled these half remembered words of his tutor. Now that he was wide awake, they seemed to presage his father's and brother's words last night. Could he have dreamt that his noble father and brother were plotting with the Spartans for an uprising and an invasion? Aeschylos gripped himself to stop these thoughts whirling him into babbling. The moment of terror was broken when Aristotle came into the bed chamber. He went straight to the bed of his snoring brother Aminias and proceeded to tickle the boy's feet. The boy awoke with shrieks of laughter.

Both you boys arise for your morning lesson,
said Aristotle gently.

Aeschylos shivered. I have a fever,
he grumbled.

Aristotle went to his bed side and felt his head.
The hot winds of Summer have spread their miasma. This morning you shall have your lesson in your bed chamber. If by dusk your fever has not broken, I will call in the physician to bleed you.

Aeschylos gave a silent prayer that Asclepios' divine healing would spare him the physician's knife. He watched his young brother climb out of bed and slip on his cloak. Aminias envied his elder brother's rank tufts of hair under his tunic although he made sly jokes. Aeschylos good naturedly would retort that his brother resembled the cook's skinned rabbit. Then they would laugh and fight, Aeschylos revelling in his new unexpected strength to hold down his brother. They left him. Aeschylos tugged his blanket around him tighter to ward off the chills. Afew moments later, Euphorion bustled into the bed chamber. He felt Aeschylos' head.

I will send for the old medicine woman from the village. The physician is too quick to reach for the knife,
he said gruffly.

Aeschylos studied his father's face. It looked no different from what he had always known. Gravity and stubbornness were etched over it. When he had first seen images of centaurs, he had no doubt they were likenesses of his father. Aeschylos was sure now last night's plotting was a feverish dream.

Euphorion left. The Phoenician girl entered with a bowl of beans and lentils soup, bread, and a bowl of water. Aeschylos had his breakfast and washed his face and hands. He could hear outside the bustle of a new day. Then he could hear Aminias reciting his lesson in the classroom and Aristotle's corrections. The bed chamber door opened and Aristotle came in. He sat down on the foot of the bed and handed a scroll into Aeschylos' reluctant hand. Aeschylos unrolled it to the next lesson.

Read this verse of Elegies,
ordered Aristotle.

Aeschylos painfully noticed that Aristotle had assumed the stern countenance of the classroom. He looked over the verse and with his practised eye sorted the lines of unspaced letters into meaningful blocks of words.

Happy is the man who loves children and horses hunting dogs and strangers. He read out loud this verse.

A gorgeous light now shown through the dry leaf of parchment. The tutor and the boy felt a glow of old familiar memories unite them as if into one being.

Aristotle cleared his throat.
In his elegies, the law giver Solon tells the Athenians the happy man does not just love success in the assembly, war and money. He gives equal value to the upbringing of the city's children, the pursuit of sport, and kindnessto fellow Greeks and barbarians.

Aeschylos did not doubt that his father, his brother Cynegiros and their circle of friends were happy. He wondered about the condition of his mother, his sister-in- law and their circle. When he was seven, his father had suddenly appeared majestically in the women's quarters and swept him away. He had time to cast one terrified glance back at his mother. Her face was turned away but Aeschylos saw a rivulet of tears glisten her cheek. From that time, his mother and her feminine circle lived apart from him. Sometimes he caught a fleeting sorrow or a mysterious smile pass quickly over their staid faces. But when he tried to reclaim his love to one-even his mother, she hushed him gently. Euphorion had handed the now screaming Aeschylos into the arms of Aristotle. After Euphorion had gone, the old man had hugged him and soothed him with a treat of sweet cakes and milk and a lesson in draughts. Until he was alone in his new bed, Aeschylos had promptly forgotten the women.

Aeschylos did not think about the happiness of Aristotle. As every free born Greek assumed, slaves had no feelings only appetites. At such a moment as this shared feeling between Aristotle and Aeschylos, they were as one. At other times, Aristotle was his stern tutor. Aristotle was neither freeman nor slave, he was Aristotle.

The lesson for the day was completed. Aristotle left the bed chamber. Aeschylos fell into a deep healing sleep. When he awoke, he saw dusk had settled. The fever had diminished and his strength had revived. He picked up The Iliad from the table. He read of the wrath of Achilles after his long sulk in his tent. Patrocles was dead, killed in battle by Hector. Aeschylos flexed his growing youthful muscles, and in his mind's eye his hoplite spear slaughtered the hordes of terrified fleeing Trojans. Under the blanket, his body took up the battle charge and frenzied assault. From out of his mouth issued forth the war cry. Then Euphorion's patient voice disturbed his reverie.

You have the spirit of battle my boy, but you will have to learn its discipline. The wise woman of the village is here to tend to your health.

A black robed crone shuffled into the bed chamber. In a croaky wavering voice, she ordered Aeschylos to pull off his blanket. Aeschylos took off his blanket and blushed under the sharp eyed gaze of the matted hair and stinking crone. From her tiny earthen bowl she rubbed over all parts of Aeschylos' body with her hands a cool soothing paste. She muttered under her breath words that seemed to Aeschylos familiar yet incomprehensible. Aeschylos had heard such words before sometimes in the conversations of old peasants. As he lay on his chest and the crone rubbed her deft fingers into his back and buttocks, Aeschylos felt electric charges penetrate into his bones and muscles. Then the crone handed him a cup of liquid.

Drink this and you will sleep well till morning and be healed. The winds from the marshland have afflicted you and many children inthe village.

She wrapped Aeschylos tightly in his blanket. Aeschylos discovered he had enjoyed his sickness. Not since the care of his mother and the woman slaves, had he felt such caresses. He shut his eyes and pretended to sleep like he was a little boy again. Through his eyelids, he watched Euphorion slip a coin into the crone's outstretched hand. They disappeared out the door. Aeschylos felt a novel love of gratitude to his father for sparing him the sharp knife of the physician. Euphorion was not just a hard task master after all. Then a shadow of Euphorion appeared again at the door. His voice was again cold.

Tomorrow morning, I will be expecting you up for breakfast and as healthy as Achilles. The crone is a relic from the old times before Theseos conquered Eleusis. She may not have done you any good but at least she hasn't done you any harm.
Euphorion seemed to be about to say more. Instead, after an abrupt good night, he went out the door.

Aeschylos immediately opened his eyes and under the moon light returned to the wrath of Achilles. But the scroll soon dropped from his hand, and the crone's potion sunk him into a deep sleep.

He awoke from his dreams of shadowy mute warriors fighting on a desolate dark plain. Aminias was screaming again to the foot tickling of Aristotle. His head was clear and his chills and heat had gone. He no longer felt soreness in his body. He detected a glance towards him of anxiety from Aristotle. Then Aristotle's smiley face settled back on the younger boy. Aeschylos jumped out of bed andslipped on his tunic and sandals. He accompanied Aristotle and his brother downstairs to the men's dining chamber. Euphorion and Cynegiros were already reclining on their couches. Cynegiros moodily ignored them. Euphorion glanced up.

How is the health of my boys this morning? Euphorion asked. Both boys said they were well. Aeschylos picked out fear then relief in his father's eyes. They joined them on the couches. Aristotle remained silent at the door.

Aristotle, have they been good scholars?

Aeschylos noticed a tautness in his father's question. His father's eyes were directed not at Aristotle but at the door. He could see by the stammering affirmative reply of Aristotle that his tutor had also noticed it. Aristotle left the dining chamber. Then Aeschylos remembered the Spartans. They should be their guests.

Have the Spartans left us? he asked.

Cynegiros breathed inwards heavily and his cheeks glowed angrily. Euphorion washed his hands in the water bowl.

Spartans are not long winded men. When their business is over, they return at once to their camp. There is much to learn from them, and one is silence about what is no concern of yours. But as I know you are a long winded Athenian, I will tell you they have sojourned here on their journey backto Sparta with horses purchased in Thessaly.

Aeschylos did not doubt it.

Then Euphorion said something surprising. As you have worked hard on your lessons, you may make today a holiday. Go after breakfast with Cynegiros to the horse stockade. He is breaking in a horse today. Pay attention to his task.

As Aeschylos followed his brothers through the courtyard, he glanced at the well. His heart missed a beat. He saw on the ground his signet ring. It could only have fallen out of his pocket while he was bending over to drink from the well. But he had believed that night with its subversive plotting was a feverish dream. He guiltily behind his brothers picked up the ring. He would have to stay silent and secretly pray for the Gods' favour of his father's reckless plot.

As they watched Cynegiros giving orders in the stockade, Aeschylos discovered he esteemed his father and elder brother in a new light. They weren't merely masters of the estate, but were in their gruff way fighters for liberty and patriots. The heroic nature of the great Athenians touched them too. He thought now Cynegiros had a resemblance to Theseos in the Dionysian festival. While his father might resemble the city statue of Solon.
The day before he had watched the Spartan groom feed his masters' two horses in the stockade. They had approached the groom, snorting and pawing the ground. Their wild eyes and distended nostrils had glared malevolently at him.Then they had stretched out their long necks and their teeth and taken the feed of barley from his hands. Aeschylos had never before seen such huge savage beasts. They were so high and wild, he could not imagine any man riding them or even mounting them. The Spartans had arrived on his father's estate in a carriage pulled by mules, the slaves leading the horses by their bridles and with sharp blows with their staffs.

Now he knew from his father, that the Spartans' horses were purchased in Thessaly. They were of the same breed as the divine winged horse Pegasos. In Thessaly, men more barbarian than Greek rode them across its vast windy plains. He wondered whether the fabled elephants and hippopotamuses in Egypt were as big.

Cynegiros deposited the bridle over the colt's neck and slipped the bit into its mouth. Then he ordered his brothers to retreat behind the stockade. As soon as they were staring behind the wooden palings, he grasped the halter with his left hand and the mane with his right hand, and lightly and deftly sprung from the ground on to the colt's bare back. He grabbed and pulled back the reins. The terrified outwitted colt reared and bucked wildly to throw the trespasser. Cynegiros' thighs desperately gripped the colt. His upper body swayed dangerously to its frantic drives. The colt's nostrils were dilated and its hooves rang the ground with the sounds of cymbals. Aeschylos watched fearfully his brother. Cynegiros' face was a mask of passivity.Then as if now knowing its master, the colt suddenly calmed. Cynegiros lightly dismounted. He patted the colt and spoke to it soothing words. He removed the bridle and slipped an apple into its mouth. He rejoined his brothers outside the stockade. Aeschylos could see that underneath his poise he was deeply proud.

Show him you are his master but never treat him in a fit of passion. Firm gentleness rules a horse. With these deeds and words, Cynegiros stood in his brothers' affections as the biggest and noblest man they knew. Aminias on a sudden impulse jumped on to Cynegiros' broad shoulders. He climbed up his brother's back and Cynegiros took his feet and hoisted him aloft. He threw his brother and Aminias flëw headlong to the ground. Aminias laughed and picked himself up and shook himself.Aeschylos followed Aminias. To his dismay, Cynegiros with a groan fell to the ground. Cynegiros got up angrily.

Keep your bovine weight away from my shoulders, he snapped at Aeschylos. He tapped his forehead. If you had been born a Spartan, the doctors would not have let you live one night. They would have put you on a mountain top and let the night air freeze you. That's how they have no tyrants, and will one day rule all Greece.

Aeschylos felt stupid and ashamed in the presence of his comely brothers. The familiar whirl in his head became more acute and the world became vaporous. The Sun God beat down upon his head with his burning rays. Spittle fell from Aeschylos' lips as his words refused to release themselves from his thick tongue. He felt himself losing balance and saw his brothers glancing at each other knowingly.

Then Cynegiros said. The sun is at the top of the sky. Let's have our siesta under the fig tree.

They settled down under the tree, and Cynegiros brought out dried fish, bread and a jar of wine from his bag. He broke the bread and fish, sprinkled a few drops of wine, and gave a short prayer to Demeter. They shared the food and wine and Aeschylos felt well again. Then they slept as the shadows lengthened around them.

Aeschylos and Aminias were awakened by Cynegiros' words. They had a disturbing tautness and coldness that alarmed both boys even before they knew their meaning.

I have to tell you something that Euphorion will never speak to you about. It is only right that you know and understand. Euphorion and I have resolved that Aristotle must leave the estate. He has been putting dangerous thoughts into my and your heads.

Aeschylos and Aminias were alert now and stared in shock at their brother. Cynegiros whistled and chewed a stalk between his teeth. Both boys knew well that derisivewhistle. It spoke of a man's hard contempt for the dreams of boyhood.

Cynegiros spat out the straw. Our family are noble Athenians. Since the founding of our estate in Eleusis, we have served Athena and Athens as brave soldiers and farmers. Neither our city nor our family has any use for sophists. Old ass' ears is only a slave, but he has implanted in our heads sophist thoughts. Sophists make the young ask questions about their Gods and their elders. They make not brave soldiers who will win spoils and an excellent marriage but cowardly and effeminate men. I survived because I stood up to old ass' ears. You two respect him.

Aeschylos and Aminias were flabbergasted. They had never learnt other than to respect their tutor.

Cynegiros clenched his fists and narrowed his eyes as if Aristotle with his stick were standing before him.

Aristotle has now been told by Euphorion that tomorrow he will be taken to the market in Athens and sold. Aeschylos, your education with books is over. I will train you myself to be a hopliter and a horseman. Aminias, Euphorion will take the place of Aristotle until you too are ready for the horse and the hoplite spear.

Aminias began to plead for Aristotle. Aeschylos was silent because he knew any of his words would only seal further Aristotle's doom. A memory he had long forgotten now returned and jolted him.

When Aeschylos had joined Cynegiros in the classroom, he quickly discovered bad blood between the older boy and his tutor. Aeschylos' clumsy hand had some difficulties with the writing exercises, but his reading raced ahead like an Olympian champion runner. That delighted Aristotle. When Aristotle remarked that the younger boy was quickly catching up to his older brother, that drove Cynegiros into a violent rage. He threw his stylus at Aristotle and declared he would take no more orders from a low born slave.

Aeschylos was thunder struck. No one had told him that Aristotle was a slave. Aristotle flushed. He picked up his stick and struck it across Cynegiros' face.

Cynegiros took his hands from his face and revealed a red stain. He looked gleefully at Aristotle. Wait till I tell Euphorion. Then you'll catch it.

Aristotle stepped back and on his face there was a look of frozen terror. Then he put down his stick and in a low trembling voice returned to the lesson.

When they went downstairs to the men's dining chamber for the midday snack, Euphorion was reclining alone. The moment he cast his eyes upon them, he jumped up and ran his fingers across the red scar.

Aristotle struck me, said Cynegiros gleefully.

Aristotle said nothing while beside him Aeschylos told the tale of his brother's defiance of his tutor. Aeschylos was astonished to see that Cynegiros instead of frantic denial smirked at his words. Euphorion's face was set hard reminding Aeschylos of a grave centaur. He seemed deaf to his son's tell tale words as he sponged the swollen wound from the water bowl. Without even glancing up, he ordered Aristotle to leave the dining chamber.

Then he said quietly. If Aristotle had complained to me instead, I would have thrashed you much harder. But both the city's laws and the Gods' laws forbid ever a slave to strike a freeman. Now by your foolhardy words, you have made a good slave strike out in anger. Now he has to suffer for that. Take your couches and no more about this.

The man and boys ate and drank in a subdued spirit. Then Euphorion got up and left abruptly. Aeschylos turned on his brother and resumed his accusations. He had gloatingly thought his brother would be ashamed. But to his anger and dismay, Cynegiros laughed at him.

One day you will learn you never side with a slave or a woman. If you are womanly, they will rule you.

Aeschylos ran out of the room and buried himself in a closet in the slaves' quarters so no one would see his vexatious tears. He could not understand his father's mood. He recalled Aristotle's chastisement only a few days after he had started his lessons. Aristotle had painfully taught him that school was not just a new enticing game. The classroom was hot and stuffy. The wriggles on the parchment suddenly lost their allure and baked in the sun's heat and dazzled the boy's eyes. Aeschylos felt his giddiness return. He closed his eyes and settled his head on the parchment. Aristotle stood over him.

Put your knuckles of your left hand out in front of you. His voice had returned to the jolliness of playing draughts.

Aeschylos eagerly played the new game. Aristotle's pointing stick descended vigorously on the boy's outstretched fingers. Aeschylos screamed. The fear and surprise was worse than the stinging pain. He had only ever known cosseting and petting. He had jumped up to run out of the room but Aristotle was standing with his stick at the door. Eying the stick and Aristotle''s grim visage through a brimful of tears, the boy had retreated to his chair. The stick now tapped the wriggles and turned them into sounds and words. As soon as Aristotle let him out of the room, Aeschylos rushed down to the dining chamber where Euphorion was waiting.

Aristotle hit me here with his stick, and Aeschylos pointed to the hurt. But then he saw no mark ran across his knuckles.

Cynegiros sniggered. Euphorion looked at him gravely.

That's what happened to Cynegiros and me too when we did not pay attention to our lesson. Boys who blubber like girls never learn to be champions in the gymnasium and on the battle field.

Those fatherly words had made Aeschylos feel like sinking into a crack on the floor. He furtively dried his tears. He felt deeply ashamed that he had maligned his tutor. From now on, he applied his lessons always conscientiously and Aristotle's stick stayed a pointing stick.

Now rubbing his eyes in the closet, he understood his father's change of mood. Aristotle's stick had left on Cynegiros a mark that told all of Attica that Euphorion could not protect his son from the attack of a slave. Outside the closet door, he could hear the cheerful talk of the slaves as they went about their duties. He was just wondering if he would never see Aristotle again when he heard a muffled thump and then a deep long groan. It sounded like the plaintive moo of a dozy bull. Instantly, the sounds in the slaves' quarters went dead. Aeschylos' heart sunk. He knew at once the source of those sounds.Thump, groan echoed again through the slaves' quarters. Aeschylos put his fingers to his ears, but still he heard the chastisement. When at last it ended, the boy slipped out of the closet. The slaves were standing in a group with their ears pointed to the direction of the sounds and their mouths wide open. For the first time ever, the boy saw that they averted their eyes from him when he slipped past them. For the first time, he did not wish to be with them. He wanted to escape back to his mother. But when he ran into the women's quarters, he found they were strangely silent and empty. When he returned, he saw the back of Euphorion disappearing out of the front door. In his hand there was the two-thronged leather bull whip. Aeschylos ran upstairs to his room, flung himself on his bed and cried again.

When he saw by the evening light that it was the time for supper, he dried his eyes again and went downstairs. To his astonishment, nothing had changed. The slaves joked among themselves and cheerfully greeted him. When he opened the door to the dining chamber, Euphorion and Cynegiros were as ever before. Cynegiros with his surly face, Euphorion with his cheerful centaur face. Aeschylos slipped over and reclined on his couch. Euphorion greeted him. As was his habit, Aeschylos began to imagine the terrible events were another of his whirling nightmares.

The next morning at the lesson, Aristotle seemed also no different. But the boy's heart missed a beat when Aristotle's cloak slipped down and he saw raw deep long cuts along his tutor's bare back. He now could not dodge the meaning of the writing lesson. A low born soldier at Troy entices the Greek army to mutiny and take to their ships. He is thrashed at the sea's edge by the rod of Odysseus.

Now under the tree with his brothers, Aeschylos recalled that only the traces of the old scars remained on Aristotle's back. Now he knew that to that one reckless act of Aristotle was owed his sale in the slave market tomorrow.

Cynegiros chewed a straw. His younger brothers exchanged sorrowing silent glances. Both knew when Euphorion and Cynegiros were together there were no bypaths through their thickets of words. A dim old memory revived in Aeschylos' head.

Once in the slave kitchen, he had rescued a mouse from the polecat. He had snatched the mouse before the mouser had done no more than claw its shoulder. He had shown it in his hand to Aristotle. Aristotle had inspected the panting tiny animal. He had told Aeschylos to put it in a basket in his bed chamber with a leaf filled with water. He then should pray beside it to Asklepios for its health.

Aeschylos had carefully done everything he was told. The mouse began to be frisky in the basket and drink the water. Aeschylos was delighted that he now had a pet mouse. But when he came back in the evening, the mouse was dead. He brought it to Aristotle with the vague hope that Aristotle could restore it to life. Aristotle had taken it into the garden and buried it. When Aeschylos had asked for a prayer for its safe journey to Hades, Aristotle had gravely said that would anger the Gods because animals have no souls. The Egyptians believed that but they were wrong because no Greek did. The Pythagorians did believe that but everyone knew they were crazy. Aeschylos was not troubled that the mouse would only rot away like the legumes in the garden. But he was upset that despite all his care and prayers and the small injury of the mouse, it still had died.

Aeschylos wiped away his tears with his fist. Aristotle hugged him. Aristotle always knew at once what the boy was thinking. He then told Aeschylos a story about the Titan Prometheos.

When human beings were first fashioned out of clay by Zeos, they like the animals could tell the future. When there is an approaching thunderstorm or earthquake, the animals will twitch their noses and hide. When their death is near, they will not fight it but crawl away and die. Man too used to be no different. Prometheos, the great benefactor of man, taught him the use of fire and tools but took away that divine gift of the animals. Man now has no relief from fear but is consoled with hope.

Aeschylos now thought about his tutor. He had not known until today that he would not die in retirement and prosperity. Therefore his life had been filled with hope and endeavour. Now that he knows, he must be turned into the spirit of a wounded mouse.

But when they were in their beds that night, Aminias suddenly said, We should save Aristotle. He has been always kind to us, now we must pay him back. Aeschylos had never thought anything could be done against the words oftheir father and brother. He was startled at his younger brother's rashness and indifference to the laws. But he listened carefully to Aminias' words.

We both have saved some obols. We will unearth them and sneak them into Aristotle's bed chamber. If Aristotle escapes tonight, he will be too far away by morning to be captured. He can buy a passage on a ship out of Phaleron.

Aeschylos quickly agreed and stifled his feeling of wrong doing.

They slipped on their tunics and unearthed their handfuls of silver coins buried under a floor board. They crept downstairs to the slaves' quarters. Aeschylos was reminded by the creaks of the house of the nocturnal meeting with the Spartans. Then his father and brother had plotted the end of Athens' servitude to the tyrant Hippias. He was suddenly consoled by the reflection that he and Aminias were doing the same for Aristotle. He whispered a prayer to Hermes, the God of thieves.

The respected old slave Aristotle had his own bed chamber. Aminias boldly opened his chamber door and they crept to the slumbering figure. Aminias pinched Aristotle's nose. He awoke with a start.

Aminias whispered. Quick old man. Take these obols and make your escape.

Aristotle whispered. I don't get my charges into trouble.

Aminias shrugged his shoulders. If we get caught, all Euphorion will be able to do is thrash us. You have saved us from many a deserved hiding. Now is our turn to pay you back.

Aristotle suddenly to the boys' astonishment burst into loud sobs. He hugged them both and whispered between his sobs, You have come to rescue your old tutor, but I have nowhere to escape.

Hire a waggon to Phaleron, then hire a boat to Sicily.You can make your fortune there, whispered Aminias.

Aminias had taken over the adventure but that did not bother Aeschylos who had grown used to tagging along.

Aristotle got out of bed and pulled on his cloak. He lit an oil lamp. Then he sat back on his bed beside the boys and spoke quietly. Freedom without a fortune is empty air. Even the cruelest master at least feeds and gives shelter to his slaves.

Then who will buy you? asked both boys.

Aristotle sighed and considered his market value. I now am worth less than a good hunting dog. In Athens they send the boys to schools taught by out of pocket aristocrats. In Attica, the land owners have returned to educating their boys themselves. They have come to distrust their slave tutors because they accuse them of spreading sophist ideas. I have heard about other masters who have relegated their slave tutors to light duties. But your father has not done that as is his right. That blow of mine against Cynegiros has beenthe mother of all my misfortunes. A God took away my senses at that moment. It may have been my pride that I even though a slave could not forget that I am the King of the lost Kingdom of Phrygia.

The boys stared at Aristotle. So you are not a Greek, gasped Aeschylos.

That their kind and clever tutor might be a barbarian was as surprising as if he had confessed that he was not a man at all but a satyr. That he also confessed that he was royalty surprised them less. They knew men less noble than their family who claimed descent from the ancient Athenian Kings.

Nothing but Phrygian royal blood ran in my grandfather's veins. The Great King Midas was his great grandfather, but since the fall of the house of Midas, my grandfather became a peasant. His son, my father, was a trader in the Greek seaports. He educated me to live as a Greek and even gave me a Greek name. When the King of Persia conquered Miletos, I fought him as a patriotic Greek. I am half Greek anyway. For my patriotism, I was captured and sold to a pirate ship from Samos. But my father's sacrifice gave me good fortune. Your father bought me in the Athenian slave market to be your tutor. But the Gods no longer favour me. It will be scraping under the ground in the silver mines for me.

Aminias began to sniffle. But you cannot let that be done to you. Take our money and start running.

The silver mines will feed and shelter me until I am too old and sick. Then the end will be quick and merciful. But my life now is too wretched to contemplate. I will give you one last lesson instead. We slaves comfort ourselves with stories that no freeman knows about. I will tell you this slave story that one day you may need to remember when you will have to fight to save Athens from the Persians.

Both boys were startled at their tutor's suggestion that the legendary Persians in far away Asia would in their life time invade Athenian shores.

Two pots, one of brass and one of earthenware were placed on a riverbank. When the waters rose, they were caught up and swept downstream. The brass pot called to the earthenware pot, ‘Stay close or we will lose sight of each other.’ The earthenware pot replied, ‘I am afraid that we must part, for if the force of the current should wash us together, I should surely be the one to suffer.’

Euphorion is the brass pot, I am the earthenware pot. Until today, I had convinced myself, I could always swim down the current in his wake. I had forgotten the laws of the Gods. He who is made of the best clay must fall to pieces whenever he collides with the basest brass.

Once the boys would have jumped up in fury at this sly reviling of their father. But now all the world was upside down.

I heard that story from a fellow Phrygian slave. He convinced me you Greeks are wrong because he was ugly and deformed. Yet I had never heard a man – Greek or barbarian – so wise.

Again Aristotle was planting new startling thoughts into their heads. A previous thought as startling had bothered them when Aristotle had said that a man in Miletos believed everyone and everything came from water and to water would return. People ridiculed him but they believed in him when the sun eclipsed when he had promised. All his wisdom came not from talking with the Gods but with his secret thoughts and his writing in a scroll. Aristotle had then pleaded with the boys not to tell anyone about this. They should not even remember it. They had promised, Cynegiros with a bribe. Aristotle seemed to have got away with that.

For the rest of the night, the man and the two boys exchanged homespun and amusing reminiscences. When the first light shone through the window, Aristotle suddenly kissed them, blew out the lamp, and returned silently to his bed. He put his face to the wall. The two boys with heavy hearts crept back to their bed chamber.This time for the first time in their lives, no one came to their chamber to waken them. When the light blazed through their window, they woke. They put on their tunics and walked downstairs to the dining chamber. Cynegiros and the slave girl were there in a heavy silence. Euphorion was absent. Aristotle was absent. After breakfast, Cynegiros abruptly walked out. Aeschylos and Aminias opened the door of Aristotle's bed chamber. It was completely empty. Every familiar of Aristotle had vanished from the house. Theyrarely heard his name again sounded. After a few weeks, it seemed completely forgotten.They became too afraid by the silence to even speak of him secretly to each other. Euphorion returned on the following day in a carriage with a new hunting dog. His brow was heavy and he talked incessantly about the new hound.

The fuss about the new dog spread to everyone in the household. Then it stopped as abruptly when word came through that the goatherd's wife had murdered the goatherd in his bath with an axe. Everyone iimmediately said the hot blood of the Eleusinian peasants was to blame. The wife was taken and stabbed by the goatherd's family. Euphorion saw no need to intervene in this village feud. Then everyone got very excited again when it was discovered that the goatherd had been abusing his daughter.

All scandal was forgotten at the start of the Eleusinan festival when the great processions from Athens entered the colossal temple of Demeter to pray and purify themselves to the earth Goddess.

The two boys in the cool light of the early fragrant Autumn night watched the torch lit singing and dancing processions from a vantage point on a hill side above their father's estate. Aminias said suddenly, Now I am a man. I can forget about Aristotle. Aeschylos was thinking about Aristotle's words when he had joined the processions with him the previous year. Intoxicated with the excitement and the mystery they had joined a dancing and singing crowd of fruit and myrtle wreathed Athenian and Eleusinian landlords, peasants and slaves, men, women youths and girls winding a labyrinth to the great gates of the sacred precinct. Iacchos, Iacchos, thirty thousand voices had chanted in the night air illuminated to the horizon by flaming torches and the shining wreaths. At the moment before they entered the gates, Aristotle whispered to Aeschylos, And so it is too at the moment of death. Aeschylos knew then he need never fear danger and the furies inside his head again. The joy of his new freedom made his heart leap and sing too. The gloomy spectres inside the sacred precinct were now radiant with light and euphoria. The long haired hierophant clad in a purple embroidered woollen robe moved among the people blessing them.

They now walked down the hill to join the Eleusinians at the front of the processions. Aminias entered the sacred precinct for the first time.

But the author can not say more about the initiation inside the temple. For more than a thousand years the initiates kept the secret. The great travel writer in Roman times, Pausanias, was warned to stay mute about the buildings inside the sacred precinct in a dream. Only the initiated had the right to know. The Emperor Nero, Lord of the world, did not dare be initiated because his hands were defiled by the murder of his mother.

At the end of the festival, the Spartan army came. The Spartans camped on Eleusis and provisions were taken from the local estates to sustain them. The Spartans were thick set tough men who laughed and swore easily. They let Aeschylos practice his newly learnt martial skills on their long spears, daggers and heavy shields. Aeschylos spent one night under the blanket and stinking breath and warmth of a Spartan. When they had drunk the foul Spartan broth, the Spartan had told Aeschylos the history of every part of his weaponry. Aeschylos had shivered when he showed the history of each battle scar that lined his body, and demonstrated how he had killed men. Then the Spartans sang in harmony of their Gods martial and sentimental songs and danced around the camp fire in the foot stamping rhythms of the agile satyrs. The boy ached for these simple men. Aeschylos ran away the next morning when the Spartan's groping hand under the blanket suddenly grabbed his crotch.

Euphorion and Cynegiros joined the Spartan army when it marched out of Eleusis to the Athenian Acropolis. A few days later, a panting herald brought news that the Pisistratidae had fled and the Spartans had entered the Acropolis. Aeschylos had once spoken to Hippias. He had visited their estate. Euphorion had introduced the boy to the tyrant. The boy was tongue tied. He had never known anything but hateful and derisive words about the tyrant. Yet now in his presence everyone was utterly sycophantic. He had bitten his tongue not to blurt out, You look and talk just like our goatherd.

To everyone's immense relief, the Spartans left the Acropolis and returned to Sparta. Euphorion and Cynegiros returned, full of stories about the war. Aminias was convinced the Athenians had won it with only a little help from the Spartans. Aeschylos was unsure that theAthenians had made any difference at all except as scouts and suppliers.

One morning in the men's dining chamber, he listened to the proud talk of Euphorion, Cynegiros and their Athenian guests. Now that the aristocrats had returned to power, they would make Athens the best city in Greece. They would be stronger than the Spartans, richer than the Corinthians, cleverer than the Ionians. Yet they would stay humble and virtuous before the Gods. All was possible because Athena was their Goddess and Theseos their legendary King.

Aeschylos blurted out – Why can't you restore Aristotle?

The aristocrats fell silent. Euphorion banged his fist on the table and swore at the sophists for making a stranger of his second son.