"Still amazingly vigorous — working on a history of Assyria, and hopes to visit Athens next year ..."
Anaxagoras was upbraiding young Demokritos, who tried to hide behind pillar: "... so you come all the way from Abdera to study philosophy, and never think to seek out poor old Anaxagoras? What a heedless generation it is ..." Demokritos was stammering apologies.
"Dinner, gentlemen," said Perikles. The crowd padded barefoot into the andron..
Bulnes murmured to Flin, "I could surely use a double Martini!"
He found himself paired with Antiphon the sophist, a youngish man about the age of Demokritos. Flin reclined on the next couch. Bulnes, watching him, had to admit that the little schoolteacher adapted himself to the Athenian style of eating more adroitly than he himself did. A slave appeared with a towel and a basin and began to wash Bulnes's feet.
Antiphon looked at Bulnes with a sneer and said, "So Perikles, far from giving me the place of honor, puts me with a foreigner! That shows his true opinion of the better sort of people. No offense meant to you, my good man — after all you cannot help where you were born."
The interior of the house of Perikles was little different from the other houses Bulnes had seen; less sumptuous than that of Kallaischros, but perhaps a little neater and roomier than Meton's. The Athenians' genius certainly did not express itself in interior decoration of private houses. A young woman who, Bulnes thought, would have been better for a good wash, sat on a stool and tweetled away mournfully on a thing like a clarinet. The monotonous little tune reminded Bulnes of a Gregorian chant.
Antiphon, his mouth full of endives, said, "Man of Tartessos, judge not all Athenian banquets by this one. Our Long-Pate Zeus is too serious-minded for party giving. You should attend one of those of our livelier spirits, like the young Alkibiades ..."
As the fare was spare and simple, the actual eating did not take long. The clatter of argument among the philosophers almost drowned out the music of the auJos.
Perikles cleared his throat, and said, "Gentlemen, ere we begin the symposium, may I bring Aspasia in to listen?"
When nobody objected, Perikles spoke to a slave, who went out. Antiphon said to Bulnes behind his hand, "That is one advantage of a concubine. You cannot decently bring a legal wife into such a gathering. And the funny thing is that Perikles cannot marry her because of a law he caused to be passed years ago, forbidding unions of citizens with foreigners ..."
Aspasia swept in — a tall, handsome woman of about Bulnes's own age. "Gentlemen!" she said. "It is most kind of you to permit me ..." She sat on a chair instead of reclining.
Antiphon said, "Wait till they get under way. She will tie some of their fine theories into knots. Woman though she be, the Milesian has a shrewd and penetrating wit."
A pair of slaves lugged in three big bowls and set them on the floor in the middle of the horseshoe in which the couches were arranged, while others carried out the teetery little tables on which the food had been served. Bulnes, watching this process, felt his chiton twitched from behind. There stood a slave holding out a fistful of straws.
Taken aback, Bulnes glanced around, observing that several others had each drawn one. He drew one also.
Perikles presently announced, "The short straw has been drawn by the good Archelaos, who is hereby appointed Master of Ceremonies. Do you take command, O Archelaos."
The graybeard across the horseshoe from Bulnes rose and commanded, "Mix the wine in the proportion of two to one."
Bulnes thanked his stars that the lot had not fallen upon him. As the slaves poured the contents of one wine jar and two water jars into the big bowls, Antiphon said, "We should have Kratinos the comedy writer in charge. He would mix one to one and then drink half a krater himself."
Archelaos scooped some of the diluted wine out of one of the bowls with a ladle, said something about "the Olympian gods," and poured the wine on the floor. He poured two other libations: "To the Heroes," and "To Zeus the Savior," and sprinkled incense on the altar.
Bulnes realized that those about him were singing to the tune of the clarinet. He listened, trying to catch the words:
"Now," said Archelaos, "the subject for this evening will be the origin of the universe."
Antiphon emitted a groan, echoed by several others.
"I knew it!" moaned the sophist. "One might as well die under Spartan spears as expire of boredom. The Anaxagoras will go on all night about his theory of primal seeds. But perhaps you foreigners like this sort of thing?"
Archelaos frowned at Antiphon and continued, "I shall first call upon our young friend from Abdera. Speak, O Demokritos!"
Demokritos turned a bright red above his fuzzy beard. "I — uh — er — I do not really know — ah — uh — I am unworthy — uh — I pray, do not ..."
"Come, come, have either cape or cloak," said Archelaos.
Demokritos smiled nervously. "Well — ah — Leukippos taught me that first there were atoms and the void, and — uh — after all I am nobody compared to the distinguished men here — but as these atoms fell through the void, we think — ah — the differences in their weights would cause some to fall faster than others, thus setting up eddies — uh — er — and these eddies condensed into solid particles ..."
While Demokritos stumbled along, in obvious torment, Bulnes shot a glance at Perikles. The latter was looking at Demokritos with a faint and not unsympathetic smile, then down again to a piece of papyrus in his hand. Could that, Bulnes wondered, contain a list of those present, so that Perikles-Vasil could check them against the card files of his pseudo-Greeks?
"I say, Knut! Watch Meton!" It was Flin, whispering from the next couch.
Bulnes saw that the astronomer was undergoing the same process that he had observed on the drill field that morning. He swung his feet down from his couch and sat up, staring wildly, and exclaiming in modern Greek: "Where am I? What is all this? Are you people pretending to be ancient Greeks, or what?"
Demokritos broke off, staring like the rest. Meton started to rise, then looked down as his sole garment, an unpinned chiton thrown carelessly around his body, began to fall to the floor. Meton clutched wildly.
Antiphon said, "By Herakles, that is the same seizure that is said to have smitten the soldiers on the drill field this morning! Is Athens undergoing an epidemic of universal madness?"
"Damn it," cried Meton, "say something! Doesn't anybody understand me?"
Then Meton looked around a little foolishly, and resumed his couch. Anaxagoras cried, "What ails you, O Meton?"
"Why?" said Meton in Classical Attic, "What do you mean? I had a slight feeling of dizziness just now and found myself standing, but now I feel perfectly normal."
"Do you not remember speaking gibberish?" asked Sokrates.
"Not at all. What is all this? Are you men jesting?"
Bulnes leaned toward Flin and murmured in English, "Perikles must have made arrangements to turn off the radiations for his guests one at a time, in a predetermined order."
"What shall we do? If they don't all rave at once, how shall we know when to rave?"
"We shan't. But then if he orders his men to check the list, they'll find out that neither of us is listed in the card file."
"Oh-oh!" said Flin. "I knew we were ruddy fools to come. Let's get jolly well out of here!"
"Not yet. A few more like that will break up the party anyway, and we don't want to look conspicuous."
Aspasia said, "Go on, dear Demokritos. You were doing splendidly!"
The interruption, however, had so unstrung that shy young man that he was unable to get anything out but er's and ah's. At last Archelaos said, "We will come back to you, O Demokritos. Meanwhile the Sokrates, having been declared by the oracle to be the wisest man in Athens, will perhaps favor us with a few words on this profound subject?"