The Spartans had occupied the island in the bay, the same which could now be seen, and had been blockaded there by the Athenian fleet. Their position was clearly hopeless, which they were finally ready to acknowledge, and they sent an embassy to the Assembly of Athens to sue for peace, which would have ended the war long ago. But Cleon had wanted the chitons off their backs, nothing less, and so nothing was agreed upon, and the war went on, as it was still going. Eventually, with the assistance of a great fire which swept the island and destroyed defenses, the Athenians had invaded the island and defeated the Spartans, who had surrendered, but by this time it was too late to arrange terms of peace as a result, and it had been, in the opinion of Lycon, who was now thinking of it, entirely too bad, to put it mildly, for if peace had been secured, it was quite likely that he would not now be in the shameful and unfortunate position in which he in fact was.
Affairs changed so quickly, that was one of the great troubles. One was given no time at all to prepare himself or to decide upon a reasonable course of action in given circumstances. Only a short while ago, he reflected bitterly, he had been a happy man with no good reason at all to believe that he would be otherwise in the near future. He had done honorable service at Pylos for seven months and ten days and was on his way home to a wife whom he considered exceptional in the qualities and skills that give pleasure to a husband, and he had nothing on his mind but accommodation and comparable pleasantries. There was simply no way to anticipate that he was on the verge of ruin, everything going sour all at once, and that he was by the incomprehensible caprice of the gods doomed in his innocence to humiliation and disgrace, an object of the contempt and anger of his fellows who had once held him in high esteem.
It was absolutely intolerable, the way he was treated. He, Lycon of Athens, who had done battle with Spartans. He was plainly scorned and avoided, as if he were at least a leper, and he was forced constantly to resort to Acron for companionship. He was also scorned and avoided too. But though a fine fellow in his way and a crony of long standing, Acron did become rather tedious, if he was taken too steadily and without relief. There were even certain unreasonable fellows who were furious with him, and wished him punished severely as being in some way responsible for all that had happened. He had heard mutterings and threats that made him wonder about his safety, and he had actually been compelled to punch an Anagyrian in the eye for making remarks that could only be taken as insulting.
It had been a mistake to return to Pylos so quickly. That had to be conceded. He had thought, of course, that his difficulty would, in effect, resolve itself, but he had been wrong about it. It was apparent that nothing had improved at home, but on the contrary everything had gotten worse than he had ever dreamed possible. Well, he was prepared now to believe anything, for anything imaginable was surely possible in a world where someone like Lysistrata and her crazy friend Calonice could start a rebellion of women that could spread throughout Attica and all the states of the Peloponnesus in little or no time at all and have all the men in a positive frenzy. He had even heard that Sparta was actually capitulating to the extent of sending an embassy to negotiate for peace. He had heard it, and he believed it, for he was ready to believe anything whatever. If he and Acron had remained in Athens instead of running off to Pylos, it was unlikely that anything would have turned out better, but certainly nothing could have have turned out worse, and perhaps they would at least have been given credit for trying and would not now be glared and grumbled at by quondam cronies who even threatened them at times with bodily damage.
What he had been thinking he would do, and was now determined to do in spite of anything, was to return to Athens the quickest possible way and take whatever consequences were to be taken, and he wondered if there was a supply vessel going there anytime soon that he could catch a ride on.
Starting out toward the island of Sphacteria, he was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t hear Acron approaching from behind, but he was aware of his presence all at once.
“Hello, Acron,” he said, not turning his head.
“Hello, Lycon,” Acron said gloomily. “How are things with you?”
“Things with me are bad, and you know it.”
“Yes, I do, and they are equally bad with me.”
“It serves you right, Acron. Don’t think that I have forgotten how you abused and blamed me in the beginning of this business, and now it is only just that you should suffer the same treatment for having been so unreasonable.”
“Well, I was excessively upset at the time, and I’ll not deny that I may have used poor judgment. I declare, Lycon, you have the most tenacious memory for matters which would be better forgotten. Anyhow, it would be foolish for us to renew our differences now, for if we did, neither of us would have a soul in the world to associate with.”
“That’s true. Our necessary interdependence extends even to the passing of the time of day.”
“I’ve been thinking of old Cadmus lately. I wonder how he’s making out.”
“It was reported by an Athenian who was on leave at the time that he disgraced himself completely in an engagement on the Acropolis, going the opposite way from everyone else, and that he is scarcely seen outside his house since that time.”
“I doubt that Cadmus feels the disgrace to any appreciable extent. He has a hide like an elephant in such matters.”
“You are right there. His staying so closely at home undoubtedly has more to do with security than a sense of shame.”
“I can’t help feeling a little guilty about him, though, to tell the truth. When we came back to Pylos, we did not leave him in an enviable position, you’ll have to admit that.”
“I’m perfectly willing to admit it.”
“Tell me, Lycon, what do you think will be the outcome of it all?”
“I wouldn’t venture to predict, and I don’t even like to think about it, for I can see terrifying possibilities every way I look.”
“It makes me uncomfortable to hear you talk like that, Lycon. I swear it does. Do tell me what you mean precisely.”
“Well, suppose the rebellion is put down without anything established. It is highly unlikely, as I see it, that we will be permitted to resume our former stations without suffering any consequences whatever, and the consequences are likely to be unfortunate by even the most conservative estimate. On the other hand, if the rebellion succeeds, Lysistrata and Calonice, as well as the other women involved, will certainly be arrogant and intolerable and impossible to live with pleasantly.”
“Do you think it can possibly succeed, Lycon? Do you really?”
“Incredible as it may seem, I’m beginning to believe it can. You have heard the reports the same as I, Acron, and are surely aware of the fantastic accomplishments to date. I have it from witnesses that Nausica, wife of old Cadmus, is an absolute demon when it comes to combat.”
“I don’t know. I would never have believed such a thing possible, and it is confusing and rather alarming to discover all of a sudden that it is. Did you hear the news that Sparta is considering a peace embassy?”