The Pericles Correction

Pericles was entertaining a visitor, which was fortunate because it was the other man we needed to speak to: Anaxinos. They sat in the command tent, wine by their side in what looked like a spirit of rapprochement. We pushed our way in, which was perfectly acceptable as Anaxinos had a couple of priestly assistants with him, and Pericles had Philipos.

Anaxinos was speaking as we entered. “. . . I have thought long upon this, Pericles, and I believe I can convince you to abandon this course.”

“I doubt that,” Pericles said. “But say on.”

“Then let me recall the terrible days of the last Persian invasion.”

“It was long ago. I was a child, then,” Pericles said.

“Yes, so was I,” Anaxinos agreed. “Your father Xanthippus was one of the great soldiers of that war.”

“I am proud to say that this is true.” Pericles noticeably puffed out his chest. Say what you like about Pericles’s flexible ethics, he was a patriot through and through.

Anaxinos nodded. “It is said that your father was the last man out of Athens when the enemy sacked the city.”

“That too is true,” Pericles said.

“They say that your father once crucified a Persian officer, for the crime of sacking a temple,” Anaxinos said. “Is this story also true?”

“It is,” Pericles confirmed. “It happened at Sestos, in Asia Minor, where there is holy ground nearby. The officer had taken for himself the sacred treasures therein.”

“Yet you seek to take the sacred treasures of Delos, an act for which your own father had once crucified an offender,” Anaxinos said mildly. “So I must ask you, Pericles, what would your father say, could he see you now?”

These words left Pericles speechless.

Anaxinos stood. “Well, I have made my observations. I must be getting back to my duties.”

“Before you leave, High Priest, there is something we must discuss . . .” Diotima’s voice trailed off.

“Yes?” Anaxinos cocked his head sideways and looked at Diotima in innocent expectation.

“Umm . . .” She obviously wasn’t sure how to begin. I knew that Diotima rather respected the High Priest; she didn’t want to upset him, but what she had to say was guaranteed to do that. “The thing is, High Priest, that we can prove that Geros, your lieutenant, has been systematically stealing large sums from the treasury.”

“Obviously you’re wrong,” Anaxinos said. “The idea is ludicrous.”

At the same time, Pericles said, “He’s the one who’s been stealing my money?”

Anaxinos said, “No, Pericles, these two young people have already proven that the guards stole the missing money.”

“The guards didn’t have a key,” Pericles said.

The differing reactions between the two leaders was interesting, but the conversation threatened to run at cross-purposes all day. I coughed to get their attention. “I’m sorry to tell you, Anaxinos, that with the evidence we have, any court and any jury in any city in Hellas would convict Geros.”

I proceeded to explain. When I demonstrated what we had found in Geros’s office, and when Diotima produced the damning papers, Anaxinos fell back heavily into the chair he had recently vacated. He couldn’t move until he had drained the wine cup that he had left behind.

“We’ll have to inspect every treasury,” I amended. “There’s no telling what Geros got into.”

“What am I to tell the priests?” Anaxinos muttered to himself.

“The truth?” I suggested.

“A truth that could destroy Delos!” Anaxinos exclaimed. “What use is piety when one of the highest can act like this?” He pulled himself up again. “I must think upon this news,” he said. “You must excuse me.”

The High Priest gestured to his followers, and they departed.

Pericles sat back down, and gestured for us to do so too. “There is something I must say to you,” he said.

“We have more for you, too, Pericles,” I told him.

“Thank you for bringing this news. It helps our case enormously, though I’m beginning to doubt if that’s a good thing,” Pericles said. Then he fell silent. He stayed that way for some time before conceding quietly to those of us left in the tent, “Anaxinos might be right when he says my father would not have approved of transferring the treasure. Yet my intelligence tells me that he is wrong. The arguments we brought with us from Athens are as true as ever. The problem is, when those right arguments are said out loud, they sound just a little too . . .”

“Convenient?” I finished for him.

“Just so.” Pericles nodded. “A cynical man might misinterpret our actions, not as the result of cool-headed strategy, but rather as a shameful greed for gold.”

“I’m sure no one would ever accuse Athens of such a thing,” Diotima said.

I winced.

“Your sarcasm is not needed here,” Pericles said. “I have enough to contend with, without your pointless humor.”

He seemed to be almost shaking. I was taken aback. Diotima stared, but aid nothing.

“Pericles, you should calm down.” I found myself advising the foremost man of Athens.

Pericles took a deep breath. “Yes, you are right.” He paused again, then said, “The death of the priest now seems somewhat less regretful.”

Diotima said, “We actually came here to question you about one of the transactions that Geros made. It would help us.”

Diotima produced the deed for the estate in Kyzikos. She explained its significance.

Pericles understood the main point at once. “That estate was bought with League funds.”

“Almost certainly,” I agreed.

Pericles thought about it. “Kyzikos isn’t just some Hellene city on the coast that the Persians happen to have conquered. It’s further inland, on the Black Sea.”

“Does that mean something?” Diotima asked.

“It means the Persians know for sure that a priest of Delos has bought land inside their Empire.”

“How so?”

“In the Persian system every man is a slave of the Great King. Everyone! No matter how free a man seems, he is ultimately a slave. This is the system we have fought for decades.”

“I understand.”

“Therefore all property ultimately belongs to the Great King. You cannot buy land without the approval of their officials.”

“Therefore they approved Geros, a senior priest of the Hellenes, to buy an estate inside their empire,” Diotima finished for him. She chewed on her lip. “You’re right, that does look bad.”

“Do they know where the money came from?” I asked.

“What do you think?” Pericles replied.

There was shouting outside—Harpy had returned from Athens. We exited the tent to see the commotion. The trireme docked where it had been before, at the pier alongside Paralos.

The trierarch was first off, with a bag of responses from the letters that had been sent home. I hadn’t expected a reply and therefore wasn’t disappointed when he indicated there was nothing for me or my wife.

I was, however, very surprised when a lady of rather small stature was helped off the trireme, following the captain. She had a large bag with her, which she dropped gratefully at my feet.

“You can carry that the rest of the way,” she said to me.

I couldn’t reply. My jaw hung slack in shock. Eventually I managed to gather my wits enough to say, “Mother! What are you doing here?”

“What do you think I’m doing here?” she said. “You send me a letter telling me that your wife, my daughter-in-law, the mother of my first grandchild, could be forced to give birth on some remote island with no one to help her? Dear Gods, boy, did I teach you nothing about how to care for your wife?”

“She was quite insistent,” the captain of Harpy said. He had come to bid farewell to his passenger and, I suspect, to laugh at me. “She turned up at the boat after we sent off the mail at the Athens end. Refused to leave the ship and cursed me when I wouldn’t sail at once. I’ve never before had a respectable matron threaten to whip the crew if they didn’t row faster.” The captain of Harpy shook his head in mock horror and grinned broadly. He took my mother’s hand in a gesture of farewell. “Madam . . . Phaenarete, if you ever tire of your family, I would be most pleased to hire you as a deck officer. Well, I wish you luck.”

With that he wandered back to his boat, whistling a happy tune. I was fairly sure that before the day was out, every man in the Athenian Navy would know my mother had arrived to help me.