The Wooden Walls of Thermopylae Read Online Free Page A

level because suddenly the room went quiet. A hooded man had entered, not tall but with a bruiser’s body. He paused to give his eyes time to adjust to the gloom. Then he saw what he was after: he began to cross the filthy floor towards my corner watched by everyone in the bar. His hood was pulledlow so he couldn’t be identified but as he drew closer there was something in his walk I recognised.
    He didn’t say anything, just picked up the sack and headed for the door. I got up and staggered after him; no payment was demanded for the food so all this had been pre planned. The hooded man didn’t hang about; he lingered just long enough to see I’d followed him then set off at a loping trot towards the Hangman’s Gate.
    The only person I knew who lived near there was Themistocles but we didn’t pass his house. Instead my guide left the road and followed a weaving path through the tombs that ended in a gap in the city walls. We called them walls back then but they weren’t, they wouldn’t have stopped anyone. Not like the monsters we’ve got now.
    I had no idea where we were going; was I being taken to the border and sent into exile or had I been lured out into the fields to be murdered beyond the range of prying eyes? I began to consider making a run for it. It was nearly dark and despite the food and drink I was pretty quick on my feet back then.
    We seemed to be heading for the sacred road to Eleusis the site of the mysteries and I reckoned that made it more likely that I was going to be killed. It never occurred to me that the fate of a young man of no account like me wouldn’t come very high up the list of the politician’s priorities. But at that age you think you’re the centre of the world and everything is just a part of your personal journey. As you get older you discover how far from the truth that is. Anyhow, I decided I’d slip off the path and leg it downhill towards Piraeus and maybe find Aeschylus or try my luck on one of the ships.
    Strange how often the most minor actions have the greatest consequences. Just as I was about to slip off the track thehooded man did the same. He turned his head to check I was still following then loped off down towards the bay. So we both ended up turning at precisely the same instant and I followed him. There was no more to it than that. He’d stolen my plan and I didn’t have another. It wouldn’t have worked anyway because it turned out that we’d been heading for Piraeus right from the beginning. Whatever you do, you can’t outrun your fate.
    Today, if you tried to slip into the great port that Piraeus has become carrying a sack and wearing a hood the guards would have you within seconds. Then no one bothered unless you tried to mess with one of the boats; it was a sort of non place. It was changing but except for Themistocles no one knew what it was mutating into. In that sense it was rather like one of those newfangled plays young Sophocles keeps bashing out.
    At last as we neared our destination my mind started to work and I began to guess who my hooded guide was and where he was taking me. I bet you’ve guessed already, reader. We pulled up at the quay and followed it to the third ship docked by the new wall to be greeted by a gruff voice from somewhere inside.
    “Took your time.”
    “Things were lively for a while in the Agora so I was late getting the boy but he followed quiet as a lamb.”
    He pushed his hood back and cuffed me lightly round the head.
    “You dozy little bugger. I’ll make sure we never put you up as a look out. Who did you think you were following?”
    I still don’t know if I felt more embarrassed or relieved as I followed Ariston over the side and down onto the deck to join Theodorus, who also gave me a slap. I think that’s about as close as they ever got to showing affection. I felt safe, Ididn’t know what was happening but I was onboard Athene Nike with two of the only men I knew I could trust even though they weren’t