The Master headed to his study. After parting ways with him, I found myself with nothing particular to do until supper. Thinking I might as well lend Artonis a hand, I stepped into the kitchen. Artonis was just setting a pot over the fire, preparing to make soup.
“Need some help?”
“No, thanks. I can manage by myself,” Artonis said, casting a sharp, almost glaring look at me. Perhaps she was still holding a grudge over the other day, when I had gotten lost in thought and let the soup burn.
Still, doing nothing was tedious. A mountain of unwashed pots, dishes, and cutting boards had accumulated in the sink, so I began to wash them.
“Eumenes,” Artonis spoke up.
“What is it?” I replied, thinking I might as well indulge her in a long chat to pass the time.
“The Master, you know, crossed the strait from a town called Atarneus, right opposite Mytilene—just like my father did.”
“Meaning, from Phrygia?”
“Exactly.”
“Not from Greece, but from Asia on the other side?”
“Yes.”
“Huh. That’s unexpected. Was that before or after you were born?”
“I was already old enough to remember things. My father and the Master were friends, so the Master used to come and stay at our shipping inn quite often, relying on my father’s connections.”
“Does that mean your father and the Master were from the same hometown?”
“No, I think they were entirely different. Their births and upbringings were completely different, but they met through a twist of fate and became close. Or so it seems.”
“Sounds like a rather convoluted story.”
“It is. It’s complicated, but do you want to hear it?”
“Sure. I don’t mind listening.”
“The Master’s birthplace is Stagira in Thrace.”
“Right, I know that much.”
“His father, Nicomachus, served as the personal physician to the King of Macedonia.”
“Philip the 2nd.”
“Yes. That’s right. The previous king of Macedon. But the Master’s father passed away when the Master was still a child. His remaining mother consulted with her daughter, Arimneste—the Master’s older sister—and they decided to move in with Arimneste’s husband’s family to be looked after. Hey, are you following the story, Eumenes?”
“Yes. Since the Master’s father died, they decided to live at the house of the Master’s sister’s husband.”
“Right. It turns out that her husband, Proxenus, had his home in Atarneus.”
“So, originally they lived in Greece—or rather, Thrace. Though by then, it was probably already Macedonian territory. And when the Master’s father died, they relocated to Atarneus in Asia. Is that it?”
“That’s it.”
“Huh. So I suppose after the Master came of age at his sister’s marital home, he struck out on his own, returned to the Greek mainland, and tried to make a living in Athens.”
“No, that’s not it at all. Quite the contrary,” Artonis countered. “The ruler of Atarneus was a man named Hermias. One day, he happened to be invited to dine at Proxenus’s house. Right then and there, Hermias recognized a special talent in the younger brother of Arimneste—the dependent living under their roof—namely, the Master, Aristotle.”
“Did he foresee that the Master would become a great scholar in the future?”
“No, not that. Hermias thought the Master had a knack for business—a natural talent for making money.”
“Well, that’s another surprise.”
“So, placing great expectations on the Master’s future, Hermias sent him to Athens to study at the Academy. It was so he could learn commerce, trade, rhetoric, and negotiation in the capital of learning. The Master, of course, had loved studying since childhood, so he instantly became captivated by philosophy. Hermias himself had studied under Plato at the Academy in his youth. The Master, too, studied philosophy under Plato, sparing no time even for sleep. It wasn’t exactly the kind of learning Hermias had expected, but he let the Master do as he pleased for a while. Eventually, however, Hermias called the Master back to Atarneus and had him marry a girl named Pythias.”
“Pythias? Hermias’s daughter?”
“Here’s the thing: Hermias was a lifelong bachelor. He had no wife and no biological children. But he was wealthy, with plenty of land and money. So, using his wealth, he gathered talented youths, adopted them as his sons and daughters, and raised them.”
“Why on earth would he do such an eccentric thing?”
“Who knows? The reason isn’t entirely clear. But I’ve heard there are religious sects that deny things like parenthood, family, and private property, choosing instead to create their own villages and live together in a community.”
“So, this Hermias fellow was a member of such a sect?”
“Could be. Though there’s also a rumor that he was originally a slave, and a eunuch to boot.”
“A eunuch? Meaning…”
“Yes. A man whose body was altered so he couldn’t father children. In Persia, it’s quite common for people to make their own children eunuchs, or buy eunuch slaves, just to rise through the ranks at court.”
“Ah, so that’s why Hermias had no choice but to adopt.”
“Exactly, to raise an heir of his own. And on top of that, it’s almost certain he was influenced by Plato’s ideas.”
“Oh? You think so? Did Plato say something like that?”
“Yes. That children should be raised by the community, not by their parents.”
“Come to think of it, Sparta was that kind of country, wasn’t it?”
“Right, what they call the Spartan education. Now, the woman who became the Master’s wife, Pythias, was also a female student studying biology at the Academy. But Hermias singled her out and made her his adopted daughter. And then, he arranged a match between his adopted daughter and his adopted son.”
“Whichever way you look at it, he was certainly a strange character—this Hermias.”
Come to think of it, Plato did argue in his work, the Politeia (The Republic), that the family system should be abolished, and that children should be separated from their parents to be raised within the community. Plato and Hermias—indeed, their ideologies might be very similar. It also closely resembles the educational system of Sparta. Yes, Plato’s way of thinking is strikingly similar to the communist governance of Sparta. He rejected private property. Not just gold, silver, treasures, and land. A man must not possess a woman, nor must he possess the child she bears. Children must not be raised in a household owned by a man, but in a community, all together. Isn’t that the very fabric of Spartan society? I wonder if that man, Hermias, was a communist as well.
“Yes. At any rate, the Master became Hermias’s son-in-law and, moreover, his heir. And I’ve heard that the daughter born to the Master and his wife, Pythias, eventually married the son of the Master’s older sister, Arimneste.”
“Hmm. It’s certainly very different from the way of the general world, but it seems the Master was blessed with a wealthy and, in its own way, happy family. It’s a shame he didn’t just settle down in Atarneus for good.”
“You think so too, don’t you? I think so as well,” Artonis said, continuing to speak with seeming enjoyment as she prepared the ingredients for the meals of the Master and the students. “From this point on, though, there are even more twists and turns in the story. You remember I mentioned that Hermias, the ruler of Atarneus, was originally either a slave or a eunuch.”
“Yes.”
“Regardless of the truth of that, he was a man who rose from humble circumstances within a single generation. He wasn’t from a long line of hereditary rulers. The man who picked up the young, penniless Hermias and employed him was a man named Eubulus.”
“Another new person. Who was Eubulus?”
“I’ve heard from my mother about a powerful shipping magnate named Eubulus whose territory stretched from the Black Sea down through the Hellespont to around the Mytilene Strait. It’s likely the same person—Eubulus, Hermias’s employer. I imagine Eubulus was probably a lot like my father.”
“A commander? Or a pirate chieftain?”
“Exactly. A merchant trader, a sea captain, a pirate warlord, and a naval commander, all in one. Hermias, it seems, was that Eubulus’s slave. During the decades when Greece was divided into the Delian and Peloponnesian Leagues, fighting a long war…”
“Ah, even I know that much. That was the Peloponnesian War, right? The struggle between Athens and Sparta for the position of hegemony over Greece.”
“Yes. During that war, Eubulus made himself incredibly wealthy by lending money and ships to the Persian army and by aiding Macedonia when it attacked Byzantium.”
“What they call a merchant of death, then.”
“I suppose so. That’s one way to put it. He had his own fleet of ships, which he leased out to Athens, or to Macedonia. He lent the profits he made to various poles (city-states) and different lords.”
“Sounds like an incredible man.”
“Indeed. So, Eubulus held Atarneus as collateral for a loan, but the Satrap of Phrygia and the Hellespont at the time ultimately couldn’t repay him. Consequently, Eubulus automatically became the King of Atarneus.”
“Or rather, I suppose you’d call that a tyrannos (tyrant), in Greek.”
“Ah, yes, they do say that too, in Greece. At any rate, Hermias was Eubulus’s extremely capable steward. And yet Eubulus—though again, the reason is unknown; perhaps he had no kin at all, or perhaps he hated his family—passed over his own relatives and handpicked Hermias, his hired steward, to be his heir. That is how Hermias succeeded Eubulus as the tyrant of Atarneus.”
“So even a slave can become a tyrant.”
“It seems to be quite common in Persia. Slaves, eunuchs, mercenaries, merchants, scholars. Regardless of their profession or humble origins, those who are quick to understand the tide of the world and good at making money can rise to a status like that of kings and nobles within a single generation.”
True. And the Greeks despised such men—parvenu tyrants who were not of noble blood, yet were so commonplace in Persia.
“Eubulus’s successor was Hermias. And Hermias, in turn, tried to make the Master his successor. Ah… it really does look as though both Eubulus and Hermias were practicing a doctrine very similar to Platonism.”
“Perhaps so. And Hermias tried to turn the Master, too, into a Platonistic tyrant like Eubulus and himself. In the Persian style, based purely on merit.”
“I see. So the Master, then, if things had gone well, could have become the tyrant of Atarneus, in a corner of Asia.”
The Master was unmistakably a scholar. He was a man who preferred to be alone in silent contemplation. Yet at times—for instance, when he had been drinking—he would, as if a dam had broken, start talking about war and politics and not be able to stop.
“Ufufu. Maybe so,” Artonis giggled. “The Master, as a young man raised by Hermias, might have been a completely different person from who he is now. With the political backing of King Philip II of Macedonia, Hermias expanded even into Thrace. Macedonia at that time was like the rising sun, and Philip was absolutely desperate for the assistance of capable merchants to develop his newly acquired territory in Thrace. Furthermore, for Philip, who was searching for a foothold to expand into Asia, the cooperation of Hermias, the tyrant of Atarneus, was more than he could have hoped for. The interests of Hermias and Philip, as it turned out, were perfectly aligned. With Philip’s political support, Hermias grew wealthier and more powerful than ever.”
“However, well, wherever money moves, conflict always follows. A man named Mentor, a Greek mercenary who was also under Eubulus, grew jealous of Hermias. Mentor, who had convinced himself that he was the rightful successor to Eubulus, sought the aid of Persia in order to undermine his political rival, Hermias.”
The name Mentor rang a bell. He was a famous Greek mercenary. I believe I had heard of him during my time in Mieza, Macedonia. Someone had told me that story several times. Was it Barsine? I couldn’t quite recall.
“Actually, the Mytilene Strait, sandwiched between Mytilene and Atarneus, is the very front line where Persia and Macedonia clash and press against each other. Greece is inherently a maritime nation. Persia is a continental power. This western coast of Anatolia, where the ocean and the continent meet, is the very spark for every conflict between the two nations.”
“The Trojan War happened here, too,” I added. And the same was true for my birthplace, Cardia. Cardia was a strategic point on the Hellespont, separating Europe and Asia.
In any case, Artonis’s way of peeling the onions was terribly clumsy. She was by no means a dextrous girl.
Despite the onions causing tears to stream down her unpainted cheeks, her talkativeness did not stop.
“Eubulus, Hermias, and Mentor—to begin with, they were all immigrants of Greek descent. You would think they would side with Macedonia rather than Persia, wouldn’t you? But the Greek psyche is bewilderingly complex. Especially when it involves the rising power of Macedonia. Both Athens and Sparta have, at times, allied with their archenemy, Persia, simply to bring down Macedonia.”
“It seems Eubulus believed Mentor’s accusation and sold Hermias out to the Persians. Hermias, being pro-Macedonian and pro-Mytilene, was captured, taken to the Persian capital of Susa, and there he was tortured to death.”
“As a merchant trader, it is only natural to have dealings with countries all over the world—Persia, Macedonia, Athens, and Sparta,” I remarked.
“Exactly. So, ‘pro-Macedonian’ was just a convenient fabrication. But with that, Mentor, having ousted Hermias, became Eubulus’s successor with Persian backing and the chieftain leading the pirates of the Mediterranean. The Master, too, was suspected of being a Macedonian spy. Since he couldn’t afford to be entangled in the political strife, he was forced to bid farewell to Lady Pythias and move to Lesbos. That is what my mother said.”
“Well now. We have finally come back to the beginning. That was quite a long story.”
“Was it boring?”
“No, no. Not at all. Huh. It is hard to imagine that the Master, who is so single-mindedly devoted to scholarship, had such a dramatic first half of his life.”
The Master was sympathetic toward tyrants and critical of Athenian democracy. He always said that the era when the tyrant Peisistratus ruled Athens was the city’s peak. He was also indignant about Athens ostracizing Themistocles. Perhaps that was because the Master had been under the patronage of Hermias and had been treated well by him.
A tyrant could be a boss of the nobles and lords, like Peisistratus, or a slave or a eunuch, like Hermias. A tyrant is defined as someone who, regardless of bloodline, rose within a single generation to become the de facto dictator. The Athenians hated monarchies and aristocracies, but this thing called a tyrant is what they disliked the most. ‘Tyrant’ was synonymous with ‘despot.’ Yet, it is precisely because they have skill and personal charisma that they can become tyrants in the first place. For many Athenians, however, democracy was the only correct, absolute form of politics, and a tyrant was the exact opposite.
The Master often said: The Athenians do not love democracy. It is only because the populace is entirely envious and selfish that democracy is the only form of government possible in Athens. He believed the most excellent form of politics is an aristocracy—a confederplication of lords who elect a dictator each time there is a war.
“I wonder if the Master had enough savings or work to survive in Mytilene,” I mused aloud.
“Who knows? He must have received some allowance from Hermias, though.”
“Was your mother and the Master close?”
“Probably. I never heard anything, but…”
“But?”
“I heard plenty of rumors. Mytilene is a small port town, after all. And there was absolutely no word from my father.”
A man separated from his wife, and a woman separated from her husband. Well, it was likely a common enough relationship.
However, it was gradually becoming clear to me. King Philip, Alexander’s father, suddenly summoned the Master, who was in Mytilene, to Macedonia. Philip, of course, must have known the Master’s father-in-law, Hermias. Was it through that connection that the Master was called by the Macedonian King? Philip was attempting to invade Persia after forcing the Greek states to swear a blood oath under Macedonia—the so-called League of Corinth. Therefore, did he summon the Master to have him fight against Mentor, the nemesis of Hermias, recapture Mytilene and Atarneus, and make them a bridgehead for the Macedonian army? No, no, impossible. That always gentle Master. I simply cannot believe he has any connection to such a volatile, dangerous world.
“If he hadn’t been summoned to Macedonia, do you think the Master would have stayed in Mytilene forever?” I asked.
“I wouldn’t know something like that.”
“Do you sometimes miss your homeland, too? Do you want to return to Mytilene?”
“I do want to return, but… Lesbos isn’t such a great place that you’d want to stay forever, and even if you wanted to, you couldn’t. It’s not the earthly paradise you dreamed of. My mother told me to at least graduate from a school in Athens so that I could flee the island whenever I needed to.”
“Why?”
“Everyone is on edge. If you speak your mind, it turns into a fight, so everyone keeps what they want to say inside and stays silent. If something unpleasant happens—or rather, before something unpleasant happens—they get on a boat and immediately go somewhere else. People who can’t stay in Athens or Phrygia come to Lesbos, and in exchange, people who can no longer stay in Lesbos leave the island. Right now, Lesbos has more Greeks who like Greece, but Rhodes to the south has more Greeks who hate Greece. Lesbos and Rhodes are always at war, always sending warships against each other, always blockading each other’s seas. People frequently swap between Rhodes and Lesbos, and Lesbos and Rhodes, and the tide of battle reverses constantly.”
“Why are there so many Greeks who hate Greece?”
“Who knows… Isn’t it Athens’ fault?”
“Why do you think so?”
“Around the time I was summoned to Athens…”
“You were summoned to Athens? By whom?”
“By the Master. The Master wrote to my mother, telling her to send her daughter to Athens.”
“So that’s why you are here now?”
“Yes. My mother was reluctant at first, but it seems she was also persuaded by a letter from my father, whom we hadn’t heard from, and so she complied with the Master. The night before I left Mytilene, my mother said… that Mytilene was once almost destroyed by Athens. All the men were to be executed. All the women and children were almost made slaves.”
“Why would they do that?”
“Because Mytilene tried to secede from the Delian League.”
“Just for that?”
“Yes. Lesbos was originally an island of independent Greeks. But when Persia invaded, they said the Greeks should form an alliance, and so the Delian League was formed. Lesbos was assigned the role of providing warships. Lesbos is poor, but the mountains have rich virgin forests. So, instead of war funds, it was decided that we would cut down wood from the mountains, build ships, and present them.
Even after the war ended when we somehow managed to drive Persia away, Athens would swagger around, making people contribute various things, money, and materials for no reason—I suppose you’d call it exploitation. The shipowners of Mytilene all hated it. Finally, when Pericles, the Athenian general, also died of illness and the Delian League’s fate was sealed, they distanced themselves from Athens and relied on Sparta, and on Phrygia under Persian rule. And also on Macedonia. Many poleis—including Stagira, the Master’s hometown—relied on Macedonia toward the end of the Delian League.”
“Then, Athens fell into dire straits, and money no longer gathered in the Delian League. Enraged, the Athenians dispatched a fleet to Lesbos and blockaded Mytilene by sea. When Mytilene refused to surrender its fleet, Athens attacked.”
“Meaning, Athens attacked a fellow Greek polis, not the enemy country of Persia.”
“Yes.”
“What a terrible people.”
“The city walls were destroyed, and all the people were gathered at the harbor of Mytilene.”
“What happened then?”
“At that very last, crucial moment, a motion criticizing such excessively harsh treatment passed in the Athenian Assembly, reversing the previous resolution, and it was decided to punish only the ringleaders. The ship carrying the messenger with that news reached Mytilene just before the executions were to begin.”
Ah… I remember. That was the Mytilenean Revolt. The tragedy of Mytilene that occurred toward the end of the Peloponnesian War. Ultimately, Athens’ Delian League lost the war to the Peloponnesian League led by Sparta, and the Delian League was dissolved.
“Now, there is nowhere in this world where one can leisurely frolic with nymphs in the forest like in the time of Sappho. Disaster follows you, no matter what island you go to, no matter what mountain you hide in.”
“Your mother told you such a story, just as you were about to go to Athens.”
“Yes.”
“I suppose you must hate Athens.”
“I don’t hate it so much as I fear it. The politicians, the citizens, the Assembly—they are capricious. Like madmen who don’t know which way they will start running.”
“Eumenes, Artonis! So this is where you were. Something terrible has happened. Everyone is gathering in the lecture hall. Please, both of you come.”
Just as the ingredients in the pot were finally beginning to simmer, one of our schoolmates opened the kitchen door in a panic and delivered the news.