The Wooden Walls of Thermopylae by Nick Brown Read Free Book Online

don’t suppose you like Themistocles’s little plan any more than I do. He’ll no doubt be laughing himself sick in his hovel by the Hangman’s Gate at what he’s sent us to do.”
    With that he turned and set off on the long walk up to the temple complex of Aphaia. It was near dark when we arrived but I was glad there was enough light to study the temple. I’ve always liked these houses of the Gods, they speak to something above and beyond and yet we can touch them, feel the cool stone. The temple of Aphaia is the pride of Aegina, but like most temples it was being renovated to bring it into line with modern tastes. But you could still see the simple beauty of the pure clean lines the ancient builders had conjured into the stone.
    But the temple itself wasn’t our destination: I realised that when I saw I was alone and the others had disappeared intoan adjoining warren of buildings booths and stalls. These were strangely deserted, devoid of drink, food, charms and temple prostitutes. Out of breath at running after them I found myself in the gloomy anteroom of a solid stone house. Xanthippus was entering the reception room and I followed him into one of the most dangerous nights of my life.
    To be fair to Metiochus he didn’t keep us wondering; from the start he shot his dice straight. He was sitting at the far end of the room on a raised chair with arms carved in the shape of sea serpents. Arranged on benches and stools either side of him were a collection of men, most of whom looked to be local worthies. One of them looked familiar. There were none of the customary trappings of hospitality visible. No drinks, dishes of nuts and fruit, no ewers of water to wash our hands and feet, no slaves to perform the service.
    There were five of us: Xanthippus, two of his trierarchs, a man who seemed to perform the duties of a secretary but looked a killer, and me. Only three men had accompanied us as an escort. We’d been asked to travel as a small party for the purposes of secrecy. These three guards had been detained outside. My four companions had begun to mutter words of surprise and alarm. I heard the assassin secretary hiss to Xanthippus.
    “We’re tricked, look who’s here; all of them.”
    I didn’t know what he meant but the anxiety behind the message was crystal clear. I didn’t have long to wait for clarification because after a deliberately prolonged period of silence intended to extend our discomfort, Metiochus said,
    “You’ve guessed correctly, there’ll be no wine, sweetmeats or fine words wasted on you.”
    Xanthippus made as if to protest but controlled himself; better to see how the land lay first. Metiochus favoured him with a chilly smile and continued.
    “Neither will introductions be necessary because, of course, you’ve met before, haven’t you?”
    Looking round I realised there was nowhere for us to sit. We would have to stand like men do before their masters. The light was fading in the room, lit only by some small lights placed on small tables arranged round the seats of our hosts.
    “Not that you would have expected to see us all together. Not when you sought separate and secret meetings to which you brought different though equally dishonest propositions.”
    Metiochus smiled again as he offered up this last sentence containing as it did every possible offence to the customs of hospitality. What the others realised as soon as they entered the room I now grasped. “All of them” had been a literal statement. They were all here: the oligarchs, democrats and Persians, all together all in on the plan. We’d been played; there had never been the possibility of a deal with one of the factions it was a set up. I was trying to think how Themistocles could have been so misled but Metiochus hadn’t finished.
    “But despite contempt for your pathetic low bred attempt at duplicity, my friends and I will maintain our respect for the traditional values of the host. Values which you so thoroughly