The Isle of Stone

1

Cleon had a sophisticated sense of which speakers to attend to and which to ignore. Just then there was a youngster from Scambonidae on the platform, probably some sweet-cheeked scion of a rich father too frightened to risk his own name in public, propounding the kind of moderation that lost wars. Clean only heard one or two words at a time-a weakling verb, some overwatered adjective-but that was enough to know the speech wasn’t worth his attention.

Instead, he focused on the message in front of him, written just days before by a Messenian informant outside of Pylos. Through his network of merchant guest-friends scattered from the far west to the borders of Attica, he got his information, delivered by mounted courier, days before the dispatch ships rounded the Peloponnese. In ordinary times this was a handy advantage; during crises like this, it would be decisive in the defeat of all his enemies, near and far…. As the fire was hidden from the Athenians by the high ground of the island, it was first seen from the glow it cast over the south end of Sphacteria. Some time later a ship returned from patrol with news of its outbreak in the dry brush of that area. Demosthenes was at first suspicious of this story, for the vessel was manned exclusively by Acharnians, who had been known to exceed their orders in their zeal to harm the enemy. At length the captain of the ship, Xeuthes, son of Cratinus, convinced the general that the Lacedaemonians were themselves to blame, having foolishly allowed a campfire to go out of control. As Xeuthes was prepared to swear by the name of his father, who fought the barbarian at Salamis, Demosthenes was convinced that no unmanly treachery had been done on his account.

In the following days the fire spread to an extent that amazed both Athenians and Peloponnesians. The south was scorched overnight, and when dawn brokea great tower of smoke was seen rising over the island. The lookouts on the ships said they could follow the progress of the blaze by the streams of embers, which ignited the vegetation that was downwind and weakened by drought. The crackling of the flames was heard from the water; the explosion of certain tree trunks made thunderclaps that echoed from one end of the bay to the other…

He reached the last line of the message just as the speaker concluded. From the left of the Assembly came a smattering of applause which, by his internal measuring stick, he judged to be of no threat to his interests. The herald, holding the myrtle at the end of his outstretched arm, did not need to pose the question, “Who wishes to speak?” before a familiar face made the slightest of affirmative gestures. The citizens of Athens broke into an uproar as Cleon mounted the rostrum. The dispatch he had been reading was now safely inside a fold of his chiton, tucked reassuringly next to his heart.

“Gentlemen, we have heard much today about what is advisable, just, or prudent about this war. I would not dare to impugn the motives of those who urge policies with which I disagree. For our system is unique in the freedom under which such debate is held, where any man, rich or poor, educated or ignorant, may have his say, and in so doing place his wisdom in the service of the state. Instead of demeaning these deliberations with the language of faction, I will therefore confine my remarks to the facts as we know them-and only to the facts.”

The cacophony of cheers and catcalls died away, for they all recognized that Cleon had decided to explore a new key. Today, he would out-Nicias Nicias’ calm, detached, measured drone.

“All can agree on how matters now stand. It is fifty days since the Lacedaemonians were trapped. The effort to reduce the island has been under the nominal command of our esteemed Nicias, though he has yet to leave the city to take direct control. That task he has left to his deputy on the scene, Demosthenes, son of Alcisthenes, which I agree to be only right and proper since Demosthenes not only conceived the operation, but has been in Pylos from the beginning. To this end a sum of three hundred talents has already been spent, with every reason to believe that significant further monies will be required. What, then, have we gained from this expenditure of time and resources?

“Since the end of the truce, we are told, no supplies have reached the garrison except what one man or a small boat may slip past our blockade. No blockade mounted so close to an enemy coast can be ‘watertight, ’ the admirals say. Fair enough! But if that is so, to what degree can we expect this strategy of delay to ever achieve success? There is no sign that the Lacedaemonians are in desperate straits at the moment. Indeed, the Spartiates who once seemed so desperate to gain the return of their sons have never returned to the Assembly with better terms. How confident those old men of the Gerousia must be! How heartily they must be laughing at all of us!

“Please don’t misunderstand me-I don’t say these things to be provocative. I raise my concerns because I believe the People deserve to know what the prospects for success really are. And so the question must be put to our strategist-in-chief: with the Lacedaemonians lounging unconcerned on the beach, and our treasury running low, and the autumn storms bearing down on our brave sailors, what provision has he made to bring the siege to a prompt end?”

Having said not one word more than he believed necessary, Cleon surrendered the wreath. And while there were some titters around the sanctum when he claimed not to seek an argument, it was an uncannily statesmanlike performance for a man of Cleon’s reputation.

Nicias, who was at the nearby house of a friend when his adversary had begun speaking, rushed back just in time to hear Cleon’s final question. One of his allies filled him in on the rest as he came forward, his back bent like an old tree tormented by the wind. When Nicias reached the platform he seemed more than usually loathe to speak. It was a reticence that had served him well over the years: though he was one of the wealthiest men in Athens, his defenders came from all strata of fortune and penury, many out of simple pity for the civic burdens he so obviously bore.

“Cleon is a speaker,” began Nicias. “I am not a speaker, but just a general. Perhaps Cleon will excuse me, then, for voicing an opinion on matters of my expertise during one of the rare moments when we are not enjoying his.”

Laughter. Cleon bit his lip.

“I know that it seems that this affair has gone on for a long time. This should not be a surprise, considering that certain voices have been proclaiming victory since the first hours of the siege. In any case, I need not remind this Assembly of the magnitude of our task, both to maintain a blockade on a distant island and to defend our position there, deep in enemy territory. Many minds have been concerned so far with how to accomplish this-minds far more subtle than mine, grappling with problems many of us cannot begin to fathom. Through their efforts, we stand today on the brink of the victory so loudly anticipated by some. It is something to savor on its own, the nearness of our victory! That we cannot yet make a final celebration is unfortunate, perhaps, but hardly an emergency.

“But now we hear the question posed, I suspect more in impatience than in disrespect, of what plans we have to subdue the enemy before autumn. With equal respect, then, allow my reply to be just as abrupt-there are many plans. Plans, after all, are cheap; they cost nothing, and have no consequences. They are as plentiful as pebbles on a beach. What is rare, though, is the wisdom to know which plan to use.

“Allow me to answer the esteemed Cleon with another question: how many Spartans are on the island today? Or to put it another way, how much force need we apply to defeat them, without leaving the fleet too weak to fight its way home? For surely, given our friend’s confident turn of rhetoric on this issue, he has the kind of deep strategical knowledge to allay the concerns of minds so much simpler than his! How many Spartans, Cleon? The People want to know.”

Nicias’s sarcasm, so uncharacteristic of him, struck the Assembly like a bolt of lightning, electrifying the left and deadening the tongues of everyone else. But in the midst of it all Cleon was calm, even amused. With his right hand, he patted the place on his chiton where he had tucked the dispatch. In the letter, his informant had described the final consequences of the fire: with Sphacteria denuded of most vegetation, the enemy was exposed to the Athenian lookouts on Koryphasion. There were precisely 582 Lacedaemonians on the island. Of those, no more than 420 were hoplites, and the rest shieldbearers. This was a lower number than anyone had supposed-and far too few to defend an island twenty stades long.

“Nicias asks a question,” Cleon replied. “Far be it for me to deny our distinguished friend an answer, fashioned in the same style with which he answered mine! He wonders how many Spartans occupy the island. I say this is a strange thing for a commander to ask a civilian! How many Spartans, Nicias? I tell you I have no idea-and I say further that the real problem lies not in my ignorance, but in yours! Why don’t you know, Nicias?”

Cleon had fallen into his signature mode now-his tone rising, his right hand pounding his thigh. The assemblymen looked at each other with anticipation; with any luck, Cleon would soon be running up and down the sanctum, voice in a shriek, excoriating citizens at random as if each of them was Nicias.

“What fun our commander makes of the basic good sense of the Athenians! While we all wonder why the Lacedaemonians are allowed to make fools of us month upon month, Nicias dares quibble over qualifications. As if only generals are permitted to take pride in the reputation of Athenian arms! As if honest citizens are not obliged to sniff out incompetence! Tell us, is this how little you think of us, Nicias? Tell us!”

A wave of sound, like one of the monstrous surges that pounded the coast after a storm at sea, rose from the back and broke over the front row where Nicias glowered.

“There have been a lot of questions posed today-questions that have gotten no good answers from either side. And so permit me to make not a question but a statement. I want to make a statement that is so simple, so self-evident, that even we, we unschooled Athenians, can understand it! Here it is…”