"Bova, Ben - Orion 04 - Orion and the Conquerer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bova Ben)

"Are you an orator, also?"
He shook his head wearily. "No. Orators can be hired, Orion. They are merely lawyers who work for a fee."
"Then who does Demosthenes work for?"
The old man gave me a puzzled look. "He has clients, of course. Civil suits, damage claims, inheritances. That is what buys his bread."
"But who pays him to speak against Philip?"
"No one. At least he claims to do it as a free Athenian citizen."
"Do you believe that?"
Aristotle stroked his beard. "Now that I think on it, no, I do not."
"Then who pays him?"
He thought a moment longer, then replied, "Logically, it must be the Persians."
Aeschines arrived home shortly after sunset, full of apologies for being late and warm greetings for his old friend. He was a smallish man with a pot belly, a red face and bulging frog's eyes. Apparently he had been a student of Aristotle's when the philosopher had taught at Plato's school in the Academy district of the city some years earlier.
"Demades speaks to the Assembly tomorrow," he told us, as his servants scurried to bring wine and goat cheese. His face went grim. "And then Demosthenes."
"I must hear them," said Aristotle.
Aeschines nodded.
Supper was served in a sumptuous room with an intricate tile mosaic for a floor and a meager fire crackling and spitting in the fireplace—just enough to ward off the autumnal night chill. Philip had ordered that Alexandros remain incognito, even to his host, so he and his beardless Companions were introduced merely as young noblemen. Alexandros was such a common name among the Macedonians that there was no need to give the Little King an alias. Most Macedonian nobles had at least a passing knowledge of Attic Greek, especially the younger ones. Philip had seen to that.
Aeschines gave Alexandros a crafty look when Aristotle introduced him, but said nothing more than he said to all the others, including me, when names were exchanged.
The talk around the supper table was all of Demosthenes.
"He is whipping up the people to a war frenzy," Aeschines told us unhappily. "They go to listen to him as if they were going to the theater, and he gives them a good performance. By the time he's finished speaking they're ready to arm themselves and march against Philip."
Aristotle shook his head, brow furrowed with worry.
"But Athens is already at war with us," Alexandros said.
Aeschines replied, "Technically, yes. But until now the Athenians have been content to let others do the fighting for them. They have sent silver against Philip, not Athenian troops."
I recalled that I was one of the mercenaries that Athenian silver had bought.
"And ships," added Ptolemaios. "Athens uses its navy against us."
"To little avail," Alexandros boasted. "Soon they won't have a port to put into north of Attica."
"There is talk," said Aeschines gloomily, "of making an alliance with Thebes."
"Thebes!" A stir went around the long table.
"They have the best army outside of Macedonia," Hephaistion blurted.
"Their Sacred Band has never been defeated," said dark-skinned Nearkos.
"Well, neither have we," Alexandros countered.
Harpalos, sitting on Alexandros' left, made a disappointed frown. "Maybe we haven't been defeated in battle, but the king has walked us away from victories. Perinthos isn't the first city that we've besieged without taking."
Alexandros' face started to turn red with anger. Aristotle spoke up. "Philip has gained more cities at the parley table than on the battlefield," he said mildly. "That is the art of a true king: to win without bloodshed."
"There will be blood between Athens and us," Alexandros predicted, his anger barely under control.
"I fear you're right," Aeschines agreed. "Demosthenes will not stop until he has them marching against the barbarians."
"Barbarians?"
"You," he said directly to Alexandros. "He calls you barbarians. And worse."
Again trying to ward off an explosion, Aristotle said, "To the Athenians, anyone not of their city is a barbarian. The word originally meant stranger, nothing more."
"But that's not how Demosthenes uses it now," Aeschines said.
I could see Alexandros was struggling to control his temper. "I saw him once, years ago," he muttered. "He came to Pella at the king's invitation. He was so flustered he became completely tongue-tied. He couldn't speak a complete sentence."
"He speaks whole sentences now," Aeschines said, somberly. "With devastating effect."
"I must hear him for myself," Alexandros said through tight lips.
But there was something else the prince wanted to see first. We were all quartered in one large room, all except Aristotle. After supper, as I was preparing for bed, I saw that Alexandros and his Companions were heading for the door, cloaks wrapped around their shoulders, swords at their sides.
"Where are you going?" I demanded.
"To the Acropolis," Alexandros replied, smiling like a boy setting off on an adventure.
"It's forbidden. The gates to the Sacred Street are locked."
"There's a trail up the cliff side. One of the servants told me of it."
"You're going to follow a servant?"
"Yes, why not? I want to see the temples up there."
"Maybe we'll raid their treasury." Ptolemaios laughed.
"Perhaps it's a trap," I said.
"We are armed."