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8 |Temple of Athena, The Acropolis City of Athens 632 BC
“Cylon, the archons are here!”
Cylon, huddled with the others around the statue of Athena, glanced over his shoulder to see one of his supporters pointing beyond the columns surrounding them. He recognized the leaders of the city as they clustered in a group, no doubt assessing the situation.
A situation not in his favor.
There were hundreds gathered, surrounding the temple, perhaps even a thousand. Yet most were there out of what he now assumed was morbid curiosity. They weren’t here to support him, but instead to see what would happen to him and his followers.
Exactly what he had been discussing moments ago.
They needed an exit strategy.
Though most were aristocrats, the masses wouldn’t recognize them, yet the archons would. At least most of them. It was too late for them to slip away and claim ignorance later if questioned. He had urged them to go home, but they had all to a one steadfastly refused.
He loved them for it.
And damned himself for their loyalty, for it would cost them their lives should things go poorly.
He smiled, deciding to test the resolve of the clearly worried archons. He approached Archon Eponymous Megacles, the senior of the group.
“Have you come to support us, Megacles?”
A broad smile spread across Megacles’ face. He gestured at the sparse crowd. “If I have, then I am one of but a few.”
“We had little time to organize a following, but it will come in time. Pythia herself said it was my duty to take control and save our great city.”
Megacles frowned. “Knowing Pythia, she no doubt said something that could be interpreted in multiple ways. Surely, if you had interpreted her words correctly, you wouldn’t be seeking sanctuary in the Temple of Athena, surrounded by our guards.”
Cylon suppressed his own frown, for Megacles was correct. He was certain of it now. He should have waited for the Festival of Pandia, not the opening of the Olympics. It would have given them the time to garner a following, a following that would be with them now, their numbers too large to resist.
He regarded Megacles and the other archons. “I take it then that you will not support us?”
Megacles shook his head. “How can we, when not even the people follow you?”
“That will come.”
“Perhaps, but until it does, Athens would be weakened, and made vulnerable. It may even fall into factions, a civil war breaking out that could leave us defenseless against outside invaders.” Megacles sighed. “I’m afraid, my friend, your attempt to become tyrant has already failed. It is time for you to acknowledge the fact, lay down your arms, and accept your fate.”
“And what fate might that be?”
“For these treasonous acts, there can be only one punishment.”
Cylon nodded slowly, glancing over his shoulder at his friends, all standing silently within the temple walls, awaiting word, their expression a mix of hope, fear, and resignation. He turned to Megacles. “Would you see it in your hearts to forgive those who have foolishly followed me? To allow me to accept the punishment for all?”
Megacles shook his head. “I’m afraid the time has passed for mercies such as what you ask.”
Cylon tensed as his strength threatened to leave him, then a spark of anger flared and he sucked in a deep breath, swelling his chest. “If your offer is for us all to die, then you leave me no choice. We will remain in the temple, under the goddess Athena’s protection, and as we do so, word will spread of our plight, and our mission, and our supporters will increase in number.” He leaned closer to the much smaller man. “Before this day is out, I, Cylon, will rule Athens, and lead it into a bright new future!”
Megacles shrank away from him, though the fear was fleeting, for the reality of the situation left it unwarranted. He stared at Cylon with what appeared to be genuine sympathy and regret. “I fear, my friend, that before this day is out, you will be dead, along with all those who follow you.”