Soldier of Arete (27 page)

TWENTY-EIGHT

Mnemosyne

THE MISTRESS OF MEMORY HAS given me what is surely the strangest adventure any man ever had. It has not returned to me the time I so much wish to recall; but Simonides thinks that through it I may retain the day just past, and many of those to come.

We dined in the larger court—a great throng. Cimon, our host, reclined at the head of the table, Themistocles to his right and Xanthippos on his left. With Xanthippos were his son, a good-looking youth who wore a cap throughout the meal, and his son's tutor, Damon, a quarrelsome old man. With Themistocles was the white-bearded Simonides of Ceos, whom Hypereides calls the greatest poet alive. Hypereides may say that if he wishes, but I have not forgotten what Cimon said of the poet Pindaros, who declares me a free man; and it seems to me that no poet can be greater than the one who announces to a man that freedom is his right.

Hegesistratus reclined next to Simonides, I should say, and Hypereides next to him. I was next to Damon and thought it bad luck when I heard how he contradicted everyone, but soon noticed that he argued with no one who did not speak. I kept silent and was safe. The black man was at my left—I could not wish better company.

Hegesistratus, as I saw, soon fell into conversation with the poet, so that the two of them seldom spoke to anyone else, though many times they glanced across the table at me. Little Polos helped serve and ate at the foot of the table, but came trotting up so often to tell me something he felt I might wish to know or to ask me some question or other, that everyone was soon laughing at him and he became a general favorite, Pericles swearing that on one occasion he had galloped around the table in both directions and bumped into himself.

A fine lyre was brought after the meal, as Themistocles had predicted. Hegesistratus played and sang beautifully, at which the black man spoke to me with his fingers of another time, when we had sung with many women; he struck his chest and flourished an imagined spear, so that was certainly a great day. Simonides played very well, chanting his own verse. Pericles played and sang nearly as well as Hegesistratus. His tutor would not sing, though Xanthippos says his voice was once very fine. He played the lyre, however, better than anyone else. Cimon sang last and with the best voice; when he had finished, all of us shouted his praises and pounded the table with our cups.

Servants came and took away most of the dishes. As soon as the table was clear, the dancers entered and performed upon it. There was one who brought five daggers she made stand upright on their pommels. She danced among them with great skill, and when we thought she could do no more, leaped from the center of the circle into the air, turning backward so that she landed on her hands with her feet high above her head. Everyone shouted, and she rolled off the table like the wheel of a cart.

Hegesistratus touched my shoulder then, whispering that he wished to speak to me. I left the table and went with him into a small room where Simonides sat. He asked whether I recalled Cimon's saying that it was here, upon his own estate, that the Thunderer had fathered the muses. I assured him I did—it had been said just before the singing began—but I knew neither the Thunderer nor the muses.

"The Thunderer is the father of gods," Simonides told me, "Zeus Maimaktes." I understood then that he is the god my own father called the bright-sky father.

I asked about the muses, but Hegesistratus waved it aside. "The important thing," he said, "is that it was here—at least, according to Cimon, that the god found Mnemosyne, the Lady of Memory. Simonides is a sophist and a famous teacher as well as a poet. Did you know that?"

I shook my head.

"One of the skills he offers to teach his students is that of memory. His own is perhaps the most famous of all time; it is said that he forgets nothing."

"Which is not true," Simonides told me, "although it brings me many students, of whom you may be one. What I've proposed to Hegesistratus is no more than that we visit the spot tonight and offer a sacrifice to Mnemosyne. Afterward I'll give you a lesson in the art of memory, and I can teach you more on the journey to Rope. It's possible that with training you may come to remember a good many things that you've forgotten. Or if not, you may at least cease to forget so much. Will you do it?"

I agreed gladly—this has surely been a fortunate day—and Hegesistratus spoke to Cimon regarding what we planned and got a kid to sacrifice, a donkey on which he rode (for he has lost one foot), and a servant to guide us. The place was nearby, though it did not seem so because we soon left Cimon's fields and woods behind and climbed a rocky hillside by a winding path. From the cleft rock where the small altar top lay upon three half-embedded stones as though by chance, Cimon's big house had dwindled to a few golden sparks.

The servant had brought wood for a fire and a fire box full of embers. Simonides recited the invocation, and I held the kid while he cut its throat. Afterward we skinned it and burned the heart and liver; when Hegesistratus had poured the libation, we roasted a few pieces of flesh over the fire.

"Now, Latro," said Simonides, "tell me truthfully. Do you really wish to remember?"

"Very much," I told him.

"Then close your eyes. Do you desire to remember so much that you would perform a great deal of work in order to do it?"

"Oh, yes," I said.

"Then you must think of a very large building. We're going to erect this building in your mind. We will not merely look at it as we looked back at Cimon's house while this man kindled the fire, but come to know it as only men who build may. Each stone and ornament must stand distinct in your mind."

I felt the hill tremble beneath me, as if a creature larger than any wild ox had risen to its feet. Opening my eyes, I saw a huge woman, twice the size of any man, emerge from the depths of the narrowing cleft, which seemed too small to have contained her. Her long, fair hair was braided, and the braids, as thick as my arm, were entwined and bound with gem-heavy cords of many colors. Her face was racked with grief, her gaze upon far-off things.

"No, Latro," Simonides said, "I want you to keep your eyes closed."

Feeling certain that the giantess meant us no harm, I shut them again.

"We must have a site for the palace we are going to build," he continued. "You must imagine this place. Think about it." After a long time he asked, "Have you done so?"

I nodded.

"Describe it to me."

"It's where the desert begins," I told him, "at the margins of the last fields."

"Look to the north," he instructed me. "What do you see?"

"Desert. Yellow sand and red stones."

"Is that all? Look to the horizon."

"I see a low line of rock. It seems darker than the stones nearby."

"Very good. You're facing north, are you not? That's the direction in which I told you to face?"

I nodded.

"Since you're facing north, east is toward your right; turn your head and tell me what you see."

"More desert. Rocky hills like this that climb higher and higher. The sun peeping above them."

"Excellent. Since you're facing north, south lies behind you. Look south, over your shoulder, and tell me what you see there."

"Sand," I said. "Yellow sand lying in waves like the sea. A man is leading three camels, but they are very far away."

"Better and better. Look to the west now, along your left arm."

I did as he told me. "Fields of barley and millet, and the mud huts of peasants. Beyond is the river, and beyond the river the setting sun."

"How many huts do you see?"

There were four, and I told him so.

"Do people live in these huts?"

"Yes," I said. "The men who till the fields live in them with their families."

"Good. It may be that we'll meet some of these people by and by. Look now toward the spot where your palace is to stand. What's the first thing you will do when you begin to build your palace?"

"Clear away this sand," I told him, "so that my palace may rest upon rock."

"Good. We'll clear it now. I've sent a thousand men with spades and baskets, and they've taken away all the sand. Do you see the naked rock?"

I nodded.

"It must stretch very far—as far as the hills you saw. If it does not, we'll have to bring back the men with spades. Does it stretch very far?"

"Yes," I said, "very far indeed." I felt the warm wind on my face and wondered to behold such a mighty work.

"Now you must lay your foundation. These blocks may be of rough-hewed stone, but they must fit well. Lay this foundation now. Does it extend across a great distance?"

"Very great."

"Then you're ready to lay the floor. It must be of smooth marble, white, but veined brown and black. Into each slab some glyph has been cut, and no glyph is like any other. The first four have a circle, a triangle, a square, and a cross. Do you see them?"

I nodded again.

"And there are many, many other shapes, too. Some are like the heads of animals. Some depict the whole creature. Some are like the footprints of men or birds, while some resemble leaves. There are many straight lines, but also many lines that waver or bend. Walk slowly across them—a long way—studying each glyph. Have you seen two that are the same?"

"No," I told him.

"That's well. Now we're going to approach the palace, but in order to approach it we must leave it. Look toward the west. Do you still see the river there? Is it a wide river?"

"Very wide. I can scarcely glimpse the trees on the other bank."

"Good. Walk west to the river, please. All the way to the river, until the water laps your feet. Is the riverbank clothed with grass?"

It was not, but covered with thick black mud.

"Good. Turn now. Face the east; lift your eyes and look back at your palace. It's very high, isn't it?"

It was, with a hundred lofty arches and airy galleries, and course upon course of pillars, each towering colonnade thrusting a hundred carved capitals above the last.

"Walk toward it. Now stop and look to your left and right. What do you see?"

There were fields of grain rippling in the wind.

"And before you?"

An avenue lined with statues.

"What are these statues? Describe them."

Lions with the faces of men.

"No. Only the one nearest you is a lion with a man's face—that's what's deceived you. If you look more closely, you'll see the rest are somewhat different. Describe the statue facing the one you've already described."

A winged lion, with the head and breasts of a woman.

"That's correct. Walk forward a little, just a couple of steps, and describe the statue beyond the lion with the woman's head."

I did as he directed. It was a winged bull with the head of a bearded man. Facing it across the avenue stood the image of a powerful man with the head of a bull.

"Good."

It seemed to me that I heard the tones of old Simonides in the sobbing wind; for a moment I marveled, knowing as I did that he was not where I was but north of the sea. I decided that he was surely dead now, and it was only his ghost I heard, somehow separated from his tomb and searching for it.

"Look back now toward the lion with a man's face. Study it carefully. It
shall be the conservator of your name. The stone is soft. Take out your knife and
carve your name, Latro, in the right foreleg of this statue."

I did as the ghost had said, though I feared some guardian might appear to kill me for it. As I fashioned each careful letter, I wondered how I had come to this place from far Hellas. Long ago I had eaten a good dinner there, listened to music, and climbed a hill. After that, everything was wrapped in mist.

"Turn around, so that you face the lion with a woman's head and breasts..."

I did. She rose, spreading mighty pinions that would have out-reached the yard of a trireme. "Surely you know
me,
Latro." Her voice was the purring of a huge cat.

I shook my head.

"I am your mother, and your mother's mother. For me and by me you stole the horses of the sun, that they might be returned to him. I am she who asks what walks upon four legs at sunrise, upon two at noon, and upon three at evening. And all who cannot answer me, at evening die."

TWENTY-NINE

The Palace Walls

ITS THOUSAND COLUMNS, ITS THRONGING statues and pictures, still rise around me—I have never remembered anything so vividly. So I told Simonides when he asked, a few moments since, what I was writing. He asked me several trifling questions, some of which I answered, and some of which I could not. Overall, he appeared pleased.

To tell the truth, I feared I would forget the palace when he interrupted me; that has not occurred, however. Thus I will take a few moments more to write that this is a lovely morning. Hegesistratus and his wife, and Zihrun the Mede, set out a short while ago. The black man and I, with Cimon, Hypereides, Io, and some others, walked a few stades along the road with them to say our good-byes. Io and the boys lagged behind as we returned to Cimon's house; and I, seeing she wished to speak to me, lingered also and fell into step with her.

"Master," Io said, "there's something I've got to tell you. You've probably written this in your book already, but maybe you ought to write it again. And if what the old man's teaching you will really help you remember, remember it."

I said that I would certainly try, if she thought I should.

"We were all in Thrace—I know you don't remember, but it's true. We were in Kotytto's sacred cave, where there was the big painted statue of her that got burned up later the same day. A lot of Thracians were outside, and you were guarding the way in for us. You told me you heard a dog outside, and Hegesistratus went out, and the Thracians didn't try and stop him. You and me and the black man talked about that, but we didn't really decide anything. I don't know if you asked him about it later."

"Nor do I," I told her.

"I know, but I thought I ought to remind you. Did you hear the dogs last night?"