Ghost on the Throne - James S. Romm [59]
And what of Demosthenes, Hyperides’ longtime ally, then briefly his enemy, now his ally once again? The return of Demosthenes to favor, after only a few months in exile and disgrace, had robbed Hyperides of some of his limelight. But the two men seemed able to work together as they once had; Demosthenes showed no need to settle scores over his bribery conviction. The friendship of these political allies had proved resilient over the years, as all such friendships had to be in the volatile Athenian democracy. Once, when Hyperides was ill and in bed, Demosthenes unexpectedly came to call, only to find his friend composing a list of his ethical transgressions. Demosthenes howled with outrage, but Hyperides calmly invoked the logic of expediency. “If we remain friends, this list can never hurt you,” he said, “but if we fall out and become enemies, it’s my assurance that you won’t hurt me.”
All through the winter of 323, Hyperides received encouraging letters from Lamia and had them read aloud in the Assembly. The war effort was on a slow but promising track. The Greeks had been unable to take Lamia by storm; the Macedonians had forced them back with artillery fire from torsion-propelled weapons mounted on the walls. But over time, the siege cordon had held. The Macedonians were hard-pressed by hunger. Old man Antipater, their commanding officer, had sent an offer of truce on terms favorable to Athens, but Leosthenes, holding out for unconditional surrender, replied: “The victors will set the terms.” The total collapse of Antipater’s position, it seemed, was only a matter of time. But then came a letter with news of a different kind.
One day, while Greek troops were digging the trench that formed part of the siege perimeter, a squad of Macedonians had rushed out from the walls and attacked. The digging crew had been overwhelmed, and Leosthenes, informed of the skirmish, rode up with reinforcements. As he came within range of the walls, he had been struck on the head by a catapulted stone and knocked unconscious. Carried back to the camp for treatment, he died two days later, the victim of a moment’s heedlessness and a fantastically lucky shot. The great mercenary captain and staunch Macedonian hater, the man who had given Athens its first battlefield triumph in a generation, was gone.
The Greeks still held the upper hand at Lamia, but their confidence was shaken. Through the rigors of a winter siege in open country, Leosthenes had inspired them with resolve as no one else could. Back in Athens, Hyperides mourned the loss of a friend and a huge political asset. He and Leosthenes had seen eye to eye on the need to destroy Macedonian power for good. With Leosthenes at his side in the Assembly, he had been able to face down even Phocion, the elder statesman whose long military career made him practically unassailable in discussions of strategy.
With Leosthenes dead, Hyperides feared the Athenians would choose Phocion, their most experienced general, to take command of the Lamia siege. But Phocion had opposed the war and had been skeptical of its chances. If given command, he might well come to terms with Antipater and let the Macedonians slip out of the Greek choke hold. To head off this danger, Hyperides and his party used a devious tactic in the Assembly. They hired an ordinary citizen, someone unknown in political circles, to stand up and claim he was a friend of Phocion’s and to urge the city not to send to Lamia a leader whose talents were needed at home. The crowd seemed