"I would have sailed at once but that onshore winds held me pinned to the Pelusiac mouth. In three days it became plain to Antigonos that he could not cross the river because of high water and the foe's strong position. He could not outflank the Ptolemaios by marching upstream, because the ground is too cut up by lakes and marshes for the movement of so large a force. He could not outflank his opponent by sea because of the shape of the coast and the adverse winds, which continued to wreck his ships. If he stayed where he was, his army would melt away by desertion or would mutiny and slay him, as did the men of the regent Perdikkas.
"So Antigonos ordered retreat. Now he's back home but, as you can imagine, in no very pleasant humor. His men start and go pale when he roars at them."
Shocked by this account, I said: "Did Antigonos himself really order those tortures?"
"Order them? He stood over the executioners, harkening them on and making ingenious suggestions. 'That fellow has a pair of fine blue eyes; just hand them to me,' he'd say."
"I can hardly believe it." I said. "When I met him in Antigoneia, he seemed a man of truly kingly quality."
Nikolaos, the full citizen, said: "If by kingly quality you mean cold-blooded treachery and murder, then Antigonos is your man. Do you know the tale of Kleopatra, the divine Alexander's sister?"
"No, sir. Tell me."
"Thrice a widow, she dwelt in Sardeis, where all the Successors sought her hand as a means to the kingship. Two years ago she decided to cast her lot with the Ptolemaios. But when she tried to leave Sardeis, the governor, acting on Antigonos' orders, imprisoned her and hired certain women to kill her.
"Antigonos, not wishing the odium of the murder, had her buried with royal rites and the women publicly beheaded. I believe he had first had their tongues cut out, so they could not cry out to accuse him at the end. Oh, well, the tale can be matched from the history of any of the other Successors." He turned back to Abibalos. "What of the king's plans?"
"Who knows," said the Phoenician. "Antigonos has always been one for keeping his own counsel and then pouncing like a lion. There are rumors that he will attack this or that Successor—Kasandros, or Lysimachos, or Seleukos, who has lately established his rule over the eastern lands as far as India."
Said Vindex of Rome thoughtfully: "Suppose Antigonos decides to take up his unfinished business with Rhodes?"
"That is what concerns me," said Nikolaos. "Last year, when Antigonos sent those ships to blockade us, everybody was full of patriotic fervor, rushing about and preparing for war. Now this peaceful interval has sapped our spirit. Even my colleagues on the Council insist that all will be well, so let us have business as usual."
"I know," I said. "Last year the Council placed a huge order for bronze shield facings with my father. He laid in a supply of ingot bronze, and then the Council canceled the order, leaving him with enough bronze to take care of his ordinary business for years."
"Tell your father not to sell his stock of bronze," said Nikolaos. "There's a good chance that we shall soon need those shield facings after all. That is, if our politicians can rouse themselves from their game of profits and mutual praises before it be too late."
"This government by elected politicians is simply not practical," said Gobryas the Persian. "I have watched it in action for some time now, and though it be heresy to you, I say you need a king to tell you what to do."
Vindex spoke up: "Do not be hasty to abandon republican government, whatever its shortcomings. We Romans threw out our kings two hundred years ago and have never regretted it. I have read a little history, and for every folly committed by an elective government I can match it with two greater follies done by kings."
"What you mean, my friend," said Nikolaos, "is that most men are fools, and no change in form of government will alter that basic fact."
Later somebody mentioned Kallias of Arados. Abibalos asked: "Is that a man of about my age, rather stout and ruddy, with good Greek and ingratiating manner?"
When told that it was indeed Kallias, who had supplanted the city's municipal architect, the Phoenician burst out laughing but refused to tell why.
"No, gentlemen," he said. "I mind my own business. Who stirs up a hornets' nest can expect to be stung."
But we pressed him. When he had been assured that not even the sun should hear of what he told us, he said:
"The Phoenician name of this Kallias is Iaphê ben-Motgen, and he was all but run out of Arados. He built us a new Town Hall—you know how he can worm his way into any job—incorporating, he assured us, the latest improvements. Alas! the new building fell down during the dedication, killing half our Council.
"When brought to trial, the man averred that an imperceptible earthquake at that moment shook down the structure. Although nobody else had felt the quake, he cast enough doubt on the prosecution's case so that the court let him go with a warning. But as no one would hire him, he set out to make his fortune elsewhere. Although I knew that he had sent for his family to join him, I had not heard whither he went."
"Oh, come," said Nikolaos. "Surely he is not so bad as that. He has given every satisfaction here."
"Why—the—" I began, meaning to burst out with the true tale of Kallias' graft and incompetence. But again my guardian spirit checked me.
No more than a stone that has left the hand can one stop a word that has left the tongue. Nikolaos, I thought, would be a difficult person to turn against Kallias, because he had introduced the man to the Council and so was partly responsible for the city's putting its trust in him.
"Let us hope he continues to give satisfaction," said Abibalos. "I will only say that I should hate to see the defense of my city entrusted to him. Who said: 'The best equipment for life is effrontery'? That, my masters, is the motto of Iaphê ben-Motgen, alias Kallias."
When I got to the studio next morning, I brooded over the clay model for the head of the Antigonos. What I had learnt of the satrap demolished this ideal, also. On an impulse I hurled the model to the floor.
Kavaros ran in at the crash. He cried: "Oh, master darling! What a dreadful thing? Broken in fifty pieces it is, and how will we ever get it back together?"
"We shan't. I must make another. Pick up the pieces. We'll glue them together to give us something to work from."
"How did it ever happen, sir?"
"Sheer stupidity, Kavaros."
Second thoughts had made me regret my outburst. After all, I still had a contract with the city to fulfill, and to default upon it would cost me what small progress I had made towards my goal.
As winter came on, people asked me with increasing frequency how long it would take me to finish the Antigonos. I told them that I had run into unexpected technical difficulties, having to do with the statue's weapons and armor. The Antigonos would not be nude, like the Demetrios, but clad in the panoply of a modern general.
The truth is, however, that I was deliberately dallying. I feared that, once the statue was finished, Kallias would reject it and I should have to force the issue with him. While I have not lacked courage for physical combat, the thought of a prolonged public quarrel with this cunning adventurer, as slippery as a Phaselite, filled me with dread.
Once I passed Kallias in the marketplace. He said nothing but glanced at the half-finished statue of Antigonos and back to me with a sly and sinister smile.
Now my father, my friends, and even some of the city's officials began to pester me to know what was holding up the work. At length I shut myself up in my studio and refused to see anybody, living a life of morose misanthropy like that of Herakleitos the philosopher. I. rejected all invitations until Kavaros said: