"Mary Renault - Greece 4 - The Last Of The Wine" - читать интересную книгу автора (Renault Mary)

Remembering that we had once drawn each other's blood over the Spartans, I let it rest. He was only
repeating what he heard from his father, whom he was very fond of, and whose views were the same as
those my grandfather had held till his death. All the ruling houses of former days, who hated the intrusion
of the commons into public affairs, wanted peace, and a Spartan alliance. This was true not only in
Athens, but all over Hellas. The Spartans had not changed their laws in three centuries, and their Helots
kept the station the gods had ordained for them. I had had enough of that myself, in the time of the
Rhodian. But you could never be angry long with Xenophon. He was a good-hearted boy, who would
share anything he had, and was never at a loss in a tight place.

I daresay you're right, I said, if their King is an example. Have you heard about King Agis' wedding?
The bride was in bed and he was just crossing the threshold, when the earth happened to shake. So,
obedient to the omen, he turned round, went straight out again, and vowed not to go back for a year. If
that's not piety, what is? I had hoped to make him laugh, for he liked a joke; but he saw nothing comic in
it.

Just then the headmaster, Mikkos, came out angrily to call us in. He was taking us for Homer. What with
the public disorder, and ours, he was in a fine temper and soon got out his thong.

After the music-lesson which came next, we could hardly wait to hang up our lyres and run out to the
gymnasium. While we were stripping we saw the colonnade full of people; now we should hear the latest
news. Our trainer had commanded a company at Delion, but today he could hardly make himself heard,
and the flute for the exercises was quite drowned; so taking some of the best wrestlers to coach, he set
the rest of us to practise. Our tutors bustled up, seeing us listening to the men in the colonnade; but they
were all talking politics. One could always tell this some way off; when they were quarreling over one of
the boys, they kept their voices down.

Everyone seemed to know for certain who was guilty, and no two agreed. One said the Corinthians
wanted to delay the war; Nonsense, said another; this was done by people who knew the City like their
own courtyards. — How not? Some of our foreign metics would sell their old fathers for five obols. —
They work hard and make money. Crime enough for the unjust. And so people who were rivals in love
or politics, but had kept it quiet, were all at once openly reviling each other. It had never happened to me
before to be surrounded by frightened men, and I was too young not to be shaken by it. I had not
thought till then that such great impiety might bring a curse on the whole City, if it had been done by
someone within.

Beside me some young men were blaming the oligarchs. Only wait; they will try to fix this on the
democrats, and then ask to carry arms for protection, Pisistratos the Tyrant's trick. But at least he
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wounded his own head, not a god's. Naturally the oligarchs called this a piece of filthy demagogy, and
voices rose, till a new one said, Don't blame the oligarchs nor the democrats, but one man alone. I know
a witness who has taken sanctuary, fearing for his life. He swears that Alkibiades . . .

Upon the name, there was a greater hubbub than ever. People began telling tales of his erotic feats, not
very edifying to us boys, who listened attentively; others spoke of his extravagance, his seven chariots at
Olympia, his race-horses, flute-girls, and hetairas; of how when he promoted a play or a chorus, he
outdid everyone else in elegance and splendour by three to one. It was for gold and loot that he began