Tyrant
A couple of individuals came forward, gripping clubs in their hands. They were covered with rags and had long hair and beards: brigands? deserters? . . . survivors? They seemed more like beasts than men. Dionysius stopped and drew his sword. The girl snatched up two stones and let fly with deadly precision. Both men were struck right on the forehead and they collapsed to the ground without a whimper. But more cries broke out and a mob of about fifty more charged forward, brandishing clubs and knives.
‘Quick, this way,’ shouted Dionysius, grabbing the girl by her hand and leaving the horses behind. But their pursuers were evidently seeking revenge for their companions and continued to chase them, waving their weapons.
Dionysius ducked behind the corner of a house only to run straight into a man coming from the opposite direction. He was about to strike him down with his sword when a voice in Greek shouted ‘Stop, blast you! Would you cut my throat?’
‘Leptines?’
‘Who else!’ He turned around. ‘Go to it men, mow down those mangy dogs.’
Sixty mercenaries and Aksal himself lunged forward, slaughtering the first ones to get in their way, then used bow and arrow to cut down the rest of them in their panicked flight. Not one of them got away.
‘I gave you precise orders,’ said Dionysius when it was all over.
‘By Heracles! I’ve just saved your life! Some nerve you have . . .’ retorted Leptines.
‘I gave you precise orders!’ roared Dionysius.
Leptines lowered his head and bit his lip.
‘I would have managed fine without you,’ he continued. ‘They were nothing but a bunch of lousy swine, but your disobedience could have had disastrous consequences. Don’t you understand that?’
‘I left Doricus in Syracuse: he’s an excellent officer and he’s always been a member of the Company. Nothing will happen there. I thought that it was too risky for you to go off on your own, so I followed your tracks. Next time I’ll let you croak.’
‘Next time you’ll do as I say, or I’ll forget that you are my brother and I’ll have you executed for insubordination. Is that clear?’
Aksal arrived with a head in each hand. ‘Aksal you shadow, see?’ And he stuck them in front of his nose.
Dionysius grimaced. ‘Yes, yes, all right. Take those horses and let’s get out of here fast.’
‘Who’s that?’ asked Leptines, nodding towards the girl.
Dionysius turned but she bolted away, vanishing into the deserted city now plunged in darkness. ‘Wait!’ he shouted, ‘Wait!’ running after her, but he immediately realized it was useless. He would never find her.
‘Well, who was she?’ asked Leptines again.
‘I don’t know,’ replied Dionysius curtly.
They made their way through the eastern quarters all the way to the Gela gate. They emerged into the eastern necropolis as the moon rose behind them, shedding its wan light over the temples on the hill. Dionysius looked over at his brother who was trudging along silently, keeping step with the shaft of his spear.
It seemed strange to him that Leptines would have taken such initiative on his own.
‘Tell me the truth. Who suggested that you follow me? Philistus?’
Leptines stopped and turned towards him. ‘No. Philistus had nothing to do with it.’
‘Who, then?’
‘That fellow. The stocky bald-headed fellow, the one who brought me the message. He just suddenly showed up in the atrium of the barracks and he said: “Your brother is in danger. You must go to him immediately, on the road to Acragas.” Then he vanished before I could say a word. What could I do?’
Dionysius did not answer. He resumed the march in silence and no one saw his eyes glittering in the darkness, nor heard the words that rose from his throat with the emotion of a sudden revelation: ‘Tellias . . . my friend.’
18
AS SOON AS he had returned to Syracuse, Dionysius commenced a couple of ambitious construction projects: a fortified residence connected to the dockyards in the heart of the old city, and a wall that blocked off the isthmus of Ortygia. He also had thirty battleships built. He took these initiatives without convening the Assembly, and it was thus clear to all that he would tolerate no checks on his power. His attitude provoked violent reactions from the opposition, especially from the families of the Knights who had taken exile at Aetna. They openly denounced the tyranny that had been established in the city, and incited the people to rebel.
Dionysius’s reaction was unforgiving and harsh. He unleashed his mercenaries, who conducted massive house-to-house searches, arrested all his opponents and brought them to the fortress in Ortygia. There, after a summary trial, they were condemned to exile. Their goods and property were seized and distributed to the mercenaries, who were gratified by this new, prestigious style of living and thus twice bound to their lord and benefactor.
He didn’t see the girl from the source of the Anapus in all this time, nor did he ever go back there, occupied as he was by so many plans and worries, but sometimes, at night, when he was resting in his huge bare bedroom in his fortress inhabited only by mercenaries, he thought of her and of how they had made love in the waters of the spring. How she had appeared miraculously, looking so different from how he had remembered her, and how she had followed him to the walls of Acragas on his quest. He thought of the voice that had spoken to him from the rocks, softly, almost as if not to be heard by anyone but him.
As winter turned to spring, ships started to arrive in the harbour and, with the ships, news. Athens had fallen, yielding to the hunger and hardship of so long a siege by both land and sea. The powerful metropolis had been brought to her knees, and had no choice but to surrender unconditionally. It was rumoured that Sparta’s allies – the Thebans and Corinthians in particular – had insisted that the city be razed to the ground, but Lysander had refused: destroying Athens would be like depriving Greece of one of her two eyes. The conditions that she was forced to agree to were punishing: destruction of the Long Wall, the mighty fortification that connected the city to the port at Piraeus, surrender of the entire war fleet except for eight ships and, most humiliating of all, a Spartan garrison on the Acropolis.
Dionysius believed that the beginning of her relentless decline had started under the walls of Syracuse, where the best young men of Athens had been mown down. He realized that the time had come to commence with his plan, and he convoked the Council: Heloris, Philistus, Leptines, Doricus, Iolaus, Biton and three more friends from the Company. ‘The war in Greece is over,’ he said. ‘Athens has lost. Thousands of men who have done nothing but fight for years and years, and who are incapable of doing anything else, are now at the disposal of the highest bidder. You, Leptines, will leave for Sparta to enrol all those you can. You’ll try to meet with Lysander, and establish an agreement with him if you can. They tell me he’s a practical man who knows how to deal with a situation.’
‘What about Corinth?’ asked Leptines. ‘Corinth is our metropolis and has always shown interest in our internal affairs, either to help us or to put pressure on us.’
‘Bring some offerings for the Temple of Poseidon on the isthmus. A formal act of homage is more than sufficient. We are stronger than Corinth: we don’t need them. Sparta’s in command now; Sparta is the true power that won the war. And Lysander is the most powerful man in Sparta, even more powerful than the kings. But there are things that must be settled here first. You, Doricus, will depart with the army and take charge of the complete subjugation of the Sicels. Our first objective is Herbessos. Once that city falls, the others will follow. You’ll leave at once and take the Syracusan troops with you. I’ll follow up with the mercenaries.’
‘What about the Carthaginians?’ asked Philistus. ‘All this activity is bound to make them nervous . . .’
‘They won’t move,’ replied Dionysius. ‘I’ve learned that the plague is still raging, the city is weakened and Himilco no longer enjoys such consideration. They won’t move. Not yet, anyway.??
?
Doricus set off with his army three days later. His objective was the Siculian city of Herbessos, in the interior. Before reaching the city, he sent a delegation forward to proclaim that since the Sicels had always been subjects of Syracuse in the past, their land was to be considered Syracusan territory. The city’s inhabitants replied that they would never comply with a similar demand, and talk went back and forth for several days without great progress. Doricus temporized as he awaited the imminent arrival of Dionysius and his mercenaries to deliver the decisive attack.
One night, as he was inspecting the guard posts along the perimeter of their camp, Doricus was surrounded by a group of armed men hidden behind a hedge, and killed along with his escort. The officers of the general staff who were faithful to Dionysius were promptly murdered as well. The remaining Syracusan officers assembled the army and had the heralds proclaim the tyranny abolished and the exiled Knights recalled. They promised the assembled troops that all the barbarians in Dionysius’s service would be cleared from the city, and that the tyrant himself would be captured and brought to justice. He would be sentenced to the punishment he deserved.
The army, presented with an accomplished fact, approved the order of the day and marched back in the direction of Syracuse, soon reinforced by numerous cavalry contingents; the Knights had obviously been forewarned of what was to occur.
Philistus was the first to be informed of the mutiny and he immediately realized that they were not dealing with a spontaneous or improvised event: the prompt arrival of the banished Knights from Aetna, the ready proclamation of the officers and the attack directed at Ortygia were all part of a well designed plot, and perhaps the worst was yet to come. He sent a fast rider to notify Dionysius at once and began preparing the complex plan for defending Ortygia to the bitter end. In the meantime, he activated all his contacts in order to have a complete rendering of the situation; within three days he had all the information he needed.
All bad.
The Knights, from their refuge at Aetna, had contacted Rhegium and Messana, who had agreed to send out a fleet to blockade both of the city’s ports. But they had even gone further: a delegation had arrived as far as Corinth, the metropolis of Syracuse, and had convinced the government to send a strongman with the task of restoring legality to her daughter city. The force that would accompany him was not impressive from a military perspective, but from the ideological point of view, this was a death blow. Since the metropolises never limited the independence and political choices of their colonies, direct intervention in the guise of an envoy who was to settle internal questions was seen as an outright condemnation. The man chosen by Corinth was one Nicoteles, a tough, war-hardened general with unashamed sympathy for the oligarchs. He had only one weak point, it was said: he drank straight wine, a dangerous habit for a Greek, and especially for a soldier; the Greeks were accustomed to diluting their wine with three or five parts water.
Dionysius had returned with his mercenaries at a forced march and closed himself up into his fortress. He blockaded the isthmus and had a chain drawn across the outlet of the Laccius harbour at night. Aksal followed him everywhere and even slept stretched out at the threshold of his master’s bedroom, on the ground. The murder of Doricus, who had been a dear friend since childhood, had broken Dionysius’s morale and invaded his spirit with dark pessimism.
The attacks on the isthmus walls began very soon and went on for days and days, relentlessly, severely trying the defences and the mercenaries’ resistance.
Dionysius held council with his most trusted friends: Philistus, Leptines, Iolaus, Biton, Heloris and two or three other members of the Company. The atmosphere was oppressive.
‘The situation is clear to us all,’ began Philistus. ‘I don’t think we can get out of this one.’
In fact, there was no solution apparent to any of them. The only proposals being advanced concerned where they could flee to and how they could find refuge.
Heloris, seeing that Dionysius sat still on his stool without saying a word, had the impression that he was resigned to the inevitable. He wanted to somehow lighten the atmosphere, but the line he came out with was destined to poison their relationship from that day on. ‘Remember,’ he said, ‘that the only way to get a tyrant to abandon his place is to pull him out by the feet.’
Philistus lowered his eyes, Leptines grimaced. Neither the word ‘tyrant’ nor the image of himself being dragged dead through the fortress like a slaughtered animal must have pleased Dionysius much. They saw him pale with rage and they feared, from the look in his eye, that he would lay hand to his sword. But nothing happened. He spoke as if nothing had been said, with a firm, steady voice.
‘The time has come for you, Leptines, to depart immediately, before the Rhegines and Messanians arrive and blockade the ports. Go to Sparta, to Lysander, and strike a deal. The Corinthians are his allies but they’ve never given him anything but headaches. What’s more, they are much wealthier and more powerful than the Spartans; we can use the jealousy and mistrust this situation engenders to our advantage. The war is over and they have thousands of men who know how to do a single thing: combat. That in itself could be destabilizing and cause problems for Sparta. So we can help them out here, at least in part: engage as many of them as you can and come back as quickly as possible. Is that clear?’
‘I think so,’ replied Leptines.
‘I want no uncertainty. I must be absolutely sure that you will do as I have asked. Well then?’
‘Of course. Consider those men already here.’
‘I won’t be giving you any letters, that would be too dangerous. You will speak directly in my name. You are my brother: it’s as if I myself were speaking.’
‘Yes, I understand,’ confirmed Leptines again.
‘Fine,’ concluded Dionysius. ‘Philistus . . .’
‘Speak.’
‘The mission I shall entrust you with is no less sensitive. You will leave on a merchant ship as soon as you can and sail west. You will go ashore at a sheltered spot on the coast and make your way on muleback to the Carthaginian border . . .’ Philistus shifted on his seat with an apprehensive gesture, but Dionysius seemed not to notice, and continued: ‘There you will contact the Campanian mercenaries in Himilco’s service who garrison the Carthaginian province and offer to hire them . . .’
‘What? You’re talking about the animals that massacred the Selinuntians and the Himerans! They’re bloody beasts . . .’
‘They are war machines, not men. They would have slaughtered the Carthaginians in the same way had they been fighting for us. We’ve already spoken about this and I’ve told you what I think. Now listen well: the Campanians must be bored to death sitting there guarding the provincial borders, and would jump at the chance of delivering a good pounding. Well, we’ll give them the opportunity. Offer them whatever you want, as long as you bring them over to our side. As soon as you have made the deal, inform me and I will send an officer to take command. Get ready to leave now. Trust me: we’ll be out of this trap and will have turned the situation around before the end of the winter.’
‘And if these missions should fail?’ asked Heloris.
‘Then we will fight to the end. We will fight with such vigour that when I fall no one will have any cause for celebration, so great will be the number of dead to mourn, burn and bury in this city. None of you are obliged to follow me. Whoever wants to can leave. I can take care of myself, especially if bad goes to worse.’
Philistus nodded solemnly. In his heart of hearts, he thought that it was all futile and that they would all end up dead, but he said: ‘I’ll leave as soon as I’ve gathered the money and had a ship prepared.’
Leptines left three days later and Dionysius accompanied him to the port. ‘Have you ever seen that man again?’ he asked his brother as he stepped on the gangway to go aboard the ship that would take him to Sparta.
‘Which man?’
‘The man who told you to follow me to Acragas.’ br />
‘No. I’ve never seen him since.’
‘Who do you think it could have been?’
‘I have no idea. I thought you had sent him; I figured you knew him. I didn’t think about asking who he was. But why are you asking me now?’
‘Because it’s a mystery that I can’t explain, and I don’t believe in mysteries. Problems, yes, but problems can be solved . . . Go now. Do what I’ve asked of you and do it well. Have a good journey.’
Leptines put a foot on the gangway, then turned back. ‘Listen . . .’
‘What?’
‘Do you really think we can make this work? I mean, wouldn’t it be better if . . .’
‘Just what has got into your head? What in Hades are you saying?’
‘It all seems . . . useless to me . . .’
Dionysius grabbed him by the shoulders. ‘Listen, by Heracles! Do you remember when we were lads and the gang from Ortygia shut us up in the warehouse down at the harbour and were getting ready to give us a thorough thrashing?’
‘You’d better believe it!’ replied Leptines.
‘And wasn’t it you, that time, who said we would never give up, for any reason?’
‘True . . .’
‘And how did it end up?’
‘I climbed up on your shoulders and got out through the roof. I ran to call for reinforcements and . . .’
‘So what are we doing now?’
Leptines shook his head. ‘Right . . . But somehow I’m afraid the situation is a little different this time.’
‘It’s exactly the same. Only the proportions and the positions have changed. We’re the bosses of Ortygia now . . . and we’ll win, just as we did then. I’ll prove that I’m the man destined to lead not only Syracuse but all the Greeks of Sicily and Italy against their mortal enemy. But I need to know that you believe in me. Every day and every night that I’m locked up in this fortress, inspecting the battlements, I have to be certain that you’re on your way with reinforcements. That you’ll be arriving at any moment, understand? Well then? What do you say?’