Meanwhile Vardanas went to work on my host with a skill that has been my lifelong envy. First he said: "O Syloson, proud though I be of my Persian heritage, at such times I am tempted to doff my trousers and pass myself off as a Hellene."
"What mean you?" said Syloson with a suspicious frown.
"Why, to have the benefits of knowing another Thessalian gentleman! In our months on the road, I have found Leon the bravest and truest man of my acquaintance. So I wish to test whether all men of that nation and class are so noble. You at least, if I be judge of character, are not behind him in these virtues."
"Whisht, you oriental flatterer!" said Syloson, trying to hide his pleasure.
"No, I am sincere, as Leon will tell you ..." Soon they were deep in a warm discussion of horse-training methods. Syloson, like all Thessalians above the serf class, was devoted to the cult of the horse.
"But I canna ride the now," he said sadly. "A fall seven years syne hurt my back, so riding gars it ache ..."
By the time I was settled, Vardanas was making his farewells at the front door. "Alas!" he said. "My sister has a horror of bugs, for we are cleanly folk in Sousa. But without a Persian consul to find us rooms, I suppose we are doomed to fight the battle of the blanket at the nearest inn."
"Losh, man," said Syloson. "Why can you no stay here? There's a plenty of room, and I can put the lass in the gynaikeion. 'Twill give my wife a body to talk to."
"Oh, my dear sir, I could not think of imposing on you! After all, we are foreigners, ignorant of your ways and manners ..."
In the end, of course, Vardanas and Nirouphar moved into Syloson's house.
After dinner there came a knock at the front door and a cry of "Boy!" The porter opened to admit Pyrron, Kanadas, Theophrastos, and Nikomachos son of Aristoteles. Pyrron said:
"We're eaten with curiosity to know how you made out with Xenokrates, and we have a problem to talk about."
"You think you have a problem! By the Dog of Egypt, wait till you hear mine! See you that?" I kicked one of the five bags of golden coins and told them of Xenokrates' rejection of nine-tenths of the fortune proffered.
They marveled at the stiffness of principle that would make a man turn down good money. As none could suggest a way to get Xenokrates to take the rest of the gold, I asked:
"What's your problem, lads?"
Theophrastos, sitting with his arm about young Nikomachos, spoke in his Lesbian accent: "It's the polluted elephant. First, one of the stupid athletes teased him. In a rage, 'e pulled up his stake and chased everybody out of the Lykeion before the Indians brought him under control."
"Herakles!" I exclaimed. "Did he kill anybody?"
"No, but it was a near thing. I wonder you didn't 'ear the screams of Aias and his intended victims clear out to the Akademeia."
"I warned he was in rut," growled Kanadas. "Must get bigger stake."
"How did the people escape?" I asked. "Aias can make an amazing speed when he stirs those long legs."
"They ran! Some of the athletes ran faster than they ever 'ad in a race, and you should have seen my colleague Herakleides. 'E's almost too fat to walk, but he fled from the park like a doe from the 'ounds."
I said: "The gods be praised that no worse befell! When I left Aristoteles, he seemed to have things under control. For a man who had just been startled out of his wits, he made a quick recovery."
"That's 'e, 'whose little body lodged a mighty mind,' as says the Poet. 'E likes to cite the tale of Thales, who became tired of being asked: 'If you're so wise, why aren't you rich?' So Thales cornered the olive market, made a fortune, and went back to what really interested him—philosophy.
"'Owever, that doesn't get this monster fed. Your Indian friends collected a day's supply of 'ay, but when we left the Lykeion the beast had eaten most of it and was looking 'ungrily at our shade trees."
"We cannot suffer our park to be eaten up," said Nikomachos. "It belongs to Athens, and they let us use it only so long as we don't harm it."
Vardanas asked: "Are there no wastelands near the park where Aias could be grazed?"
"Yes," said Theophrastos. "Kanadas could drive him out the Brauron Road to the slopes of Mount 'Ymettos. There's lots of well-grassed public land there."
"But that means getting a grazing permit," said Nikomachos, "like any other stock raiser. And later in the year the grass will be so dry and sparse I don't think the beast could live on it."
Kanadas added: "Do not graze him for yet another ten-day. Too dangerous."
"Let's face the issue," said Theophrastos. "Whether we graze the beast at times or not, keeping it will cost money—more than the school can afford. For one thing, we shall 'ave to pay a keeper or two after the Indians go 'ome, or at least buy slaves to do their work. For another, we must needs stable the brute and feed it cut fodder through the winter months."
Vardanas said: "Why not put the elephant in an enclosure and charge the Athenians to look at him, as the sutler did on the ship? Or take them for rides?"
Theophrastos said: "I suggested something of the sort to Aristoteles, but he was 'orrified by such crass commercialism. 'E'd never let such an enterprise be connected with his school."
"Meseems Aristoteles' difficulties are of his own making," I said. "There are many things he can do: graze the elephant, commercialize it, give it away, kill it and sell the meat" (Kanadas scowled blackly at this suggestion), "or write the king begging for money to maintain it. Or he can rent Aias to a bathhouse, to squirt the bathers with his trunk. Till he's tried some of these courses, he has no cause to waul. I'm the one with the problem. I'm fain to quit the polluted army and go about my private business, but I cannot whilst I have this gold in my care."
Pyrron said: "The king surely has a sense of irony, to give the elephant but no money to one philosopher, and money to another who declines to accept it."
"Papai!" I said. "Why could we not get Xenokrates to give the money to Aristoteles for the maintenance of the elephant?"
The others cried out in praise of the proposal, but Theophrastos said: "You don't know our philosophers, Leon."
"What mean you?"
"Those two 'ate each other too much for any sensible compromise."
"Why is this so?"
"It's a long story, old boy, but I'll tell you. Twenty-five years ago they were fast friends, studying in Athens under the divine Platon. Then Platon died. Aristoteles expected, as Platon's most brilliant pupil, to succeed him. Instead, the faculty elected Platon's nephew Speusippos, a man of violent temper and unbridled lusts."
"Why chose they such a wight? They must have known what he was like."
"He had his virtues. He faithfully taught his master's doctrines and had a good practical mind for running the school. Moreover, a few years before, Aristoteles had quarreled with Platon and tried to set up a separate school. The school failed and the two were soon reconciled, but some of Platon's other followers never forgave Aristoteles.
"Disgusted with the ways of Fate, Aristoteles crossed the Aegean to live at Assos in Troyland. Xenokrates went with him and even stayed with him while he 'oneymooned on Lesbos with his first wife. I was with them much of this time, too. Later Aristoteles went to Macedonia to tutor Alexander, while Xenokrates returned to Athens. When Speusippos fell deathly sick, he resigned his post and urged that Xenokrates be chosen in his place.
"Aristoteles was then in Stageira, which he was rebuilding with money from King Philip. 'Earing from me of Speusippos' resignation, he started at once for Athens but found Xenokrates already in command of the school. 'E 'id his disappointment and a few years later removed to Athens to start his own school.
"For a time, 'e and Xenokrates kept on a friendly footing, though some of their followers fanned the growing rivalry between them. Not I; I love everybody. Then—well, Xenokrates is a dear old chap, but he is a bit of a bore, and Aristoteles has a razor-edged tongue and a waspish sense of 'umor. One day Xenokrates cornered Aristoteles in the market place and droned in his ears for hours. At the end he said: 'Oh, I do hope I haven't bored you to death with my chatter!' 'No indeed,' said Aristoteles, as polite as a Persian, 'for I haven't been listening to you.'