Killer of Men - Christian Cameron [213]
Someone had talked. I know that, because by the time I reached the assembly, most of the men of Plataea were already there, and the silence was like a living thing. I was closer behind Simon as he and his sons trudged up the acropolis to the meeting place. The sun was up, and the world was beautiful with autumn splendor. Demeter and Hera had made a perfect day, the sky was blue and justice was close to my hand.
Myron was dressed in white, and he stood on the little rise where the archon always stood. He waited until Simon walked into the crowd. Even Simon noticed that the crowd parted around him, and no man went to stand close to him. But he was a surly man, he had few friends, and perhaps he expected no more. He crossed his arms and his loutish sons stood around him.
I remember that there was one voice that went on and on – Draco. He was trying to sell a man a wagon, and he hadn’t noticed the silence. He was hidden by the crowd, but after a while, he understood, or perhaps a neighbour caught him with an elbow.
I meant to be the last, and I waited by a cowshed, watching the latecomers, some hurrying down from the heights through the gated wall, others trotting up the lanes from outlying farms. Myron’s sons were both late, still chewing bread. And then Epictetus and his sons came in a group, with Empedocles on a litter. I fell in with them, and we walked into the middle of the assembly and stood before the archon.
Men looked at me, because I had a spear. Perhaps five other men in the crowd had spears, and they were over sixty. And my spear was fine – in a way that farmers seldom decorate a weapon.
A murmur started.
Myron raised his arms, and silence returned. And then, with two other men, priests, he sacrificed a ram.
‘You owe me for that,’ Epictetus said in a hoarse whisper.
Then the archon raised his hands, wiped the blood and faced the assembly. ‘Men of Plataea!’ he said. ‘I call you to order, the assembly of the men of the city, to make law.’
We gave him three short cheers, and then the whole assembly sang the Paean.
I had imagined that my moment would come immediately, but however long you wait for revenge, there’s always delay. In this case, an existing boundary dispute had to be read into the record. I didn’t even know the men involved.
While old Myron’s voice droned on, I saw Bion spot his son. I saw the change come to his face. And then I saw him look at me.
His grin was wide enough to split his face. He looked away, hiding his reaction from Simon who was not far from him, and then he began to move through the crowd – not towards us, but to stand behind Simon.
Simon took no notice, but other men had marked Bion – he was a popular man – and they followed his eyes, and men began to point and stare, first at Hermogenes – and then at me.
Draco saw me. He threw back his head and laughed.
Myron got to the end of his boundary dispute. ‘New business,’ he said. ‘News from Athens.’ He looked out over the assembly. ‘Where is the messenger?’
I stepped forward, and men cleared a path for me.
‘I have come from Athens,’ I said. ‘And before that, from Asia, where I was a slave. I have come to accuse Simon son of Simon of the murder of my father – and of selling me into slavery.’ I turned, and pointed my spear at Simon, and a path cleared from me to him.
‘What can the punishment be,’ I asked into the silence, ‘for a man who stole my father’s farm, his land, his tools and his wife? After stabbing him from behind in the face of the enemy?’
Simon was so surprised that one of his hands clawed the air, as if to push away the words I said.
‘Who here does not know Simon the Coward? How many of you stood against the Spartans when my brother died at Oinoe? Who was it who ran from the rear of the phalanx? And when we went against the Thebans? Who shirked, and stood in the rear? Is there a man here who remembers Simon standing his ground? And when we faced the Eretrians – I saw him stab Pater.