Pericles’ heart was a heavy thumping in his chest. But he maintained his attitude of serenity. He knew that Daedalus hated him, for all his pride in him. He also knew that Daedalus’ position as an Archon would come under scrutiny, for was he not the father of Pericles’ wife? So Daedalus was impelled to protect both his own station and the station of Pericles, however he might resent the latter.
Pericles said in the most detached voice, “Have public charges been made against Ichthus?”
“Seven thousand ostraka have been received,” said Daedalus, again watching Pericles closely.
But Pericles laughed aloud and slapped one of his knees. “I doubt if Ichthus knows seven men in Athens! What absurdity is this?” Then he made his face serious. “Those who signed those potsherds are liars and libelers, and should be prosecuted for defaming the gentle character of a harmless and merciful man.”
He stood up and began to pace the room indignantly, breathing loudly so that the outraged sound would reach Daedalus’ ears. “Illiterate peasants from the country, who must have friends sign the ostraka for them! It is not unknown that many men have been ostracized or even executed by the Assembly, upon receiving forged potsherds produced in the thousands at the command of a venomous man who desired some revenge on another man, or had malignance in his soul. It is not unknown that citizens have been suborned and bribed to send in the ostraka, if a criminal desires the fortune of the accused man, or his position, or envies him for one reason or another.”
Daedalus cried, “Are you accusing the Assembly of corruption, of being the creature of designing and evil men?”
I can accuse them of much worse, thought Pericles, his teeth clenching together. He stopped his pacing, his back to Daedalus, and pondered. The situation was terrible. At all costs Ichthus must be saved.
Daedalus said, seeing that Pericles would not reply to his question, “You did not know that we have discovered, through confidential and unimpeachable sources, that Ichthus is really being condemned for his writings, and that the Ecclesia has hundreds of such writings in its possession. Ichthus has not denied the writings, when confronted.”
Pericles held himself very still. What a fool was Ichthus for not denying the authorship of the inflammatory writings! But what a man of fearless integrity lived under that inoffensive exterior, that retiring demeanor! Athens would be free and saved if only two thousand of his kind lived in the city.
“This is in addition to the ostraka,” Daedalus added, exasperated by Pericles’ silence and his turned back. “Have you nothing to say, husband of my daughter?”
Pericles slowly faced his father-in-law and for an instant Daedalus was frightened, though Pericles’ features were still serene and the light eyes still indifferently blank.
“I have this to say, Daedalus,” he said in a slow and steadfast voice. “I will defend him before the ostrakophoria and the Ecclesia.”
Daedalus started to his feet, holding his arms above his head, and his countenance was distorted. But before he could speak Pericles abruptly left the room.
CHAPTER 10
Pericles loved his sons, Xanthippus, eight years old, and Paralus, two years younger. Miraculously, neither resembled their mother, Dejanira, for which favor Pericles had sacrificed on their births. Xanthippus resembled his grandfather of the same name and Paralus, though he had Dejanira’s black eyes, had Pericles’ coloring and stature. Xanthippus had his grandfather’s high sense of humor and mischief and quick intellect and slight and elegant body and was already famous for his vivacious wit. Paralus was more serious, somewhat inflexible of character, took life, even at six, as a sober affair and rarely laughed or played pranks, was stronger than his older brother and taller, and moved ponderously. Xanthippus excelled in such athletics as the bow and light fencing and playing with balls, and was dexterous and fast. Paralus excelled in discus-throwing, wrestling and pugilism. Xanthippus was as fluid as water, Paralus tenacious and fixed in opinions and also very determined.
It was Pericles’ custom to join the lads at sunset, before dining alone, for an hour of discussion and play and comments on their tutors. Sometimes Xanthippus, the elder, was permitted to dine with his father, but Paralus was still too young and ate his meals with his mother in the women’s quarters. They were both fond of their mother, Dejanira, though Xanthippus teased her frequently, for she had no gift of drollery and could only stare, frowning, at him and try to understand his sallies. Paralus sympathized with her, for often Xanthippus teased him also though usually he could reply to his brother in a slow bantering fashion. Of the two, Dejanira preferred Paralus not only because he resembled Pericles but because he appeared to be kinder and of a tender sensibility.
There were no other children, for Pericles had not called his wife to his bed since the birth of Paralus. He was afraid that the gods might not be so benign with other children and that they might be born looking like their mother and with her immovable obtuseness. Moreover, Dejanira became more and more repugnant to him, more unbearable to his nostrils. Worse still, she adored him and would look at him with imploring eyes when she saw him, and he pitied her the more execrable she became to him. Therefore he avoided her, though admitting that she was most able in household affairs and was increasing his fortune through frugality and expert managing.
He never interfered with household matters though he had refused to permit Dejanira to make his house into a replica of her father’s and had demanded that she treat Agariste with deference and listen to her advice concerning the meals he ate and the preparations for guests. Dejanira, abjectly worshipful, obeyed him in all instances though she detested Agariste and considered her an idle woman. She, herself, almost lived in the kitchen, overseeing the kitchen slaves and the cook, and watching every fragment of food and every drachma. Delicacies were for Pericles only, and she silently deplored his extravagant tastes and his demands for the best of wines. When Agariste protested that she now dined on the food of slaves Pericles intervened in her behalf and Agariste ate at her own table while Dejanira and her sons dined apart, Dejanira sniffing loudly in derision at the expensive items on Agariste’s plate, the good wine, the fine dishes. Once she said loudly, in her whining voice, “We shall be bankrupt.” To which Agariste had replied, “In the meantime we shall dine as human beings and not as pigs.”
Dejanira’s son by Hipponicus, Callias, was now sixteen years of age, and was a male replica of his mother, being short and massive and fat and disagreeable of temperament. He sullenly resented his brothers for their appearance and their accomplishments, and would console himself that he was surnamed “The Rich,” for he had been his father’s heir. He was as miserly as his mother and dressed as meanly as a slave and his tutors despaired of him. He was no athlete. He preferred cockfights, the bloodier the better. He also liked to gamble, but as he was not averse to cheating he was rarely invited to participate with the companions at his academe. They called him, invidiously, the Dog, referring to the treble kybos, or three ones at dice. He also annoyed them by infrequently throwing the kybos and by winning regularly. He brought his own dice to games, and they were loaded, and so none would play with him unless he consented to the common dice, when he would win as sporadically as the others. This would throw him into a temper, and as he was strong as well as fat few cared to contend with him. His fighting was as shameless as his cheating and he was infamous for driving his knee into groins.
He hated Pericles and ridiculed him to his mother when she would permit it, and after Pericles had rejected her again and she was sore at heart and grieving. Though usually sluggish of mind he seemed to be able to perceive when contemptuous remarks would not be forbidden by her. He would then grin snottily at his brothers, who despised him and openly scorned him and pretended to be deaf at the slurs on their father. He would chuckle hoarsely. He had attempted to treat the younger boys brutally on more than one occasion, until Pericles had thrashed him in the presence of Xanthippus and Paralus, and Dejanira, who had stood aside whim
pering and wringing her hands. But she loved Callias far less than she did the younger boys and was reluctantly relieved when he would order his slave to pack his chest for a prolonged visit to Daedalus’ house. Daedalus preferred him to his younger grandsons.
During the past few months Pericles had conferred with his bankers concerning Dejanira’s dowry and the increase in it, for he had come to the conclusion that he must divorce his wife. Though seeing her seldom and rarely close by, he found her presence in his house more and more intolerable. He saw the misery of his mother, who had no escape from Dejanira as he did, with his hetaira and other women of even less repute. He saw the mutinous expressions of his slaves who resented Dejanira and who complained to the overseer of their bad food and crowded quarters, and the overseer complained to Pericles in their interest. For Pericles was a kind master and treated them as paid servants rather than slaves, and often rewarded them lavishly and if petitioned enough he would free them, warning them, however, of the perils of freedom. When, at Dejanira’s secret orders, distinguished guests had been served a poor wine in richly ornamented bottles, he had decided that he could endure Dejanira no longer. That wine was symbolic of the climate of his house. He had upbraided Dejanira for his mortification and she had burst into tears, had tried to embrace him, and had wept, “I only sought to save you money, lord.” He had spurned her then as one spurns an importunate and untrained dog.
Not even the fact that his sons had considerable affection for their mother could deter him any longer from divorcing her. They could see her in the house of Daedalus at regular intervals. He was afraid that some of her coarseness might be conveyed to them and he loathed Callias as much as Callias hated him. Pericles, always pragmatic, feared that Callias might infect his sons in some fashion. As for Dejanira’s own feelings, he did not consider them, for he doubted she possessed any capacity for devotion though she had been repellently passionate towards him when he had called her to his bed out of a sense of duty and compassion. He no longer pitied her. He must rid himself of her and as quickly as possible. As yet the unfortunate woman had no premonition that her husband’s lawyers were already preparing for the suit.
On this evening after Daedalus’ visit to Pericles’ office Pericles did not call for his sons. He wished to be alone while he considered the deadly danger to his friend and how he must protect and save him, for, on inquiry among his friends in the Agora, he had learned that not mere ostracism was contemplated for Ichthus, but death. The King Archon had been consulted but two hours before, and even Daedalus had not known, though he had been informed of it an hour after he had left Pericles.
Pericles did not know that at the very time that he was attempting to eat his dinner Daedalus was in terrified and raging consultation with Dejanira.
“He will destroy us all if he defends that Chilon!” he cried to his daughter. “He is already in bad favor among men of influence, who not only mention his resemblance to the Tyrant, Pisistratus, but assert that he is aiming at arbitrary power. He has been accused of cynicism in that he, an aristocrat, has set himself aside from his fellow aristocrats, and espouses the humble merely to make his position secure. It is noted that though he pretends to be the friend of the common people he keeps far from their presence and lets them see him rarely. He is too ambitious, sinister, ambiguous, to have many influential friends. It is no secret that he was the instigator of the banishment of Cimon, who was truly beloved, for he coveted Cimon’s power. Yet, my daughter, he connived with Cimon later to have Cimon appointed commander of the fleet while he ruthlessly plotted with him to gain power in Athens for himself, with Cimon’s consent. It is even rumored that he had procured the murder of Ephialtes, the great and popular statesman!”
Dejanira whimpered and wrung her fat hands together and squinted through her tears. “I know of none of this, my father, and it is possible they are lies inspired by envy.”
“Hah!” exclaimed Daedalus fiercely. “I believe it all, though he is the husband of my daughter! He desires to be a monarch! The aristocratical party justly fears and hates him, for they consider him a traitor to his nation and his family, and his ancestors. They rightly fear his power, which he unlawfully took upon himself—”
Dejanira said with a spirit unusual with her, “Father, that is not true! The citizens of Athens raised him by his merits.”
“Silence, woman!” cried infuriated Daedalus, lifting his hand as if to strike her. She subsided and renewed her whimperings, shrinking from her father.
“The aristocratical party has induced Thucydides the Alopece, kinsman of Cimon, to oppose him, a good and intrepid man. He will succeed! Thucydides is no hypocrite, to woo the people to advance his own power. You have not read the writings on the walls of Athens, infamous accusations against Pericles scrawled by the very people he defends against the aristocrats. I tell you he lusts to be king and that Athens will not endure!”
Dejanira could only sniffle forlornly. Her father regarded her with exasperation. “He is your husband,” he said. “He is the father of your sons. You must prevail upon him to listen to you, that if he continues his plan to defend Ichthus not only he may be destroyed, but you and your children also.”
Dejanira broke into fresh tears, and her face turned very red. She averted her face and said, “I have no influence on Pericles, my father. Rarely do I encounter him. He avoids me. I fear he despises me. I enter his chamber no more, not since the birth of Paralus. He has abandoned me for dissolute women. You have said that when you spoke to him today he turned on his heel and left you, after daunting words. You are an Archon, a man of position. If he will not listen to his father-in-law, why should he listen to me?”
Daedalus stood up, shaking with rage. He looked down at his stricken daughter and he, who rarely felt pity, felt it now. He laid his hand on her head and said in a trembling voice, “My daughter, I did not know of this indignity laid upon you, and your mother did not know for she would have told me. There is but one solution: You must leave him and petition for a divorce, and return to your father’s house with your children. Only then will the people realize that you are blameless, that you renounced your husband for his treason, and removed your children from his house lest they be dishonored and punished in their father’s name.”
“Leave Pericles?” wailed Dejanira, her small black eyes bulging with grief. “He is my husband! I love him, no matter the humiliations he has heaped upon me, and in the presence of the very slaves.”
Daedalus seized her fat shoulder and shook it. “Have you thought of your parents, my daughter? I am an Archon. Do you not realize that not only you and your children will be destroyed by the impetuous actions of this man but your parents also? Five innocent people! You will let us all die, or be exiled and our fortunes confiscated? You will serenely permit yourself, and your family, to live in dire poverty far from Athens, on some barbarous island? Have I begotten a human daughter, or a female Cyclops who sees with but one eye but who is blind to those she should dutifully love?”
Dejanira stared up at Daedalus through her tears and saw that her father was truly desperate and affrighted, and the color fled from her face and it was a yellowish white. Daedalus nodded at her grimly. “Our fortunes, if not our lives, are in deadly danger from the man you call your husband. Dare you defend him, and remain with him until we sink into the Styx?”
She could not speak for her own terror and anguish. She wrung her hands and sobbed deep in her breast.
“Speak to him!” her father commanded. “Speak to him this night. If he is adamant, send me a message and I will dispatch litters for you and your children and you will return to your father’s house and will procure a divorce. Tell him this.”
Dejanira pressed her hands to her breast and her stolid face was contorted with fear and suffering and hopeless love. She whispered, “I will try. I swear by Hera that I will try. That is all I can promise. If I fail,” she paused and wept louder, “I will return to your house, my father, and that tomorrow.”
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“And he will be forced to return your dowry and what has accrued to it,” said Daedalus, sighing with relief. It seemed to him, as a covetous man, that the loss of Dejanira’s dowry would be a worse blow to Pericles than the loss of his family.
Dejanira said almost inaudibly, “He loves his sons. He may not permit their removal.”
“Then, once you have left his house, and he is ruined, we will petition for the return of your children from the nefarious influence of their father. Do not be distressed, my daughter. Attempt, as your duty, to prevail upon him to reconsider. If not, then you must flee at any cost.” He rubbed his bony hand over his face and sighed. “I am a man not without influence. Your children will be given to me as their guardian. I would that I had never consented to this marriage, but my sister besought me to consent.”
Dejanira was not without shrewdness. She knew it was her father who had proposed the marriage and not Agariste. She thought of Agariste with a sudden venom, Agariste who did not conceal from her her contempt for her daughter-in-law.
“It was through me that he was assisted to power,” said the Archon. “One must never forget it. Would that the Furies had paralysed my tongue before I did that!”
He embraced his daughter and departed, and after long and shivering thought Dejanira sent a slave to Pericles, beseeching him to permit his wife to visit him immediately. While she waited for his reply she bathed her reddened eyes, combed her hair and changed her rumpled garments and rubbed her arms and throat with attar of roses. Dismally, she looked into her silver mirror and for the first time confessed to herself that she had no graces and no beauty and no attributes to enchant a man, especially a man like Pericles. She had thought herself desirable for her money and her father’s position in Athens. Now she vaguely comprehended that Pericles did not need her money, and that he was far more powerful than her father. Hence, she could not appeal to him on these grounds. Ah, if I had but beauty and were young! she cried in herself. But I am ugly, and I am old, and there are white hairs on my head and I have three chins. She was devastated as never she had been before.