Empire of Ashes: A Novel of Alexander the Great Read Online Free PDF

tyranny-loving, fish-feasting, sympotic leisured prickocracy.
    “I’m surprised to see you here,” Eteocles sneered. “when your beloved Demosthenes is not party to the case.”
    “But your beloved Aeschines is—and after so many years away! Don’t we all enjoy the sweet ooze of his oratory, like some unglued beehive! I can hardly wait.”
    “May you enjoy the spectacle, dear Swallow! Who knows how long such events will be open to persons like yourself?”
    “And may I return your sentiment! I, for one, would miss the charming futility of your ambitions.”
    Before their exchange could begin its usual descent into undisguised insult, the jury selection began. The magistrate at the door forwarded the box of juror tags to the junior archon in charge of the allotment. The tags went into the rows of slots in the face of the machine, and the mixed black and white cubes poured down the metal tube mounted on its side. As the secretary drew tokens from the bottom of the tube, their color either nominated or rejected the respective row of tags.
    The drawing was repeated ten times. That made fifty citizens randomly chosen from each tribe, so the jury would have, alas, only 500 members. Swallow was hoping for a 1,000 or even a 2,000 man allotment, as the really big juries tended to be have a far more refreshingly democratic rowdiness.
    After the last name was read out, Swallow couldn’t restrain his impulse to tease Eteocles.
    “It seems the gods favored me today, my dear friend! And you, I presume, will return to your barn?”
    “I will be with the spectators. Respect your good fortune, Swallow!”
    This was an unexpectedly gracious response, and it made Swallow ashamed he had gloated.
     
     
    II.
     
    The trial was held in the courthouse chamber with the most room for spectators. The jurors were knotted outside, each holding a short wooden staff painted the same red color as the door lintel. Swallow had just turned in his token to the clerk when he looked back and saw Deuteros waving a red staff at him from the back of the crowd. Both of them had made the jury.
    Swallow saved a spot on a front-row bench for his friend. Since the benches were covered only with straw, naive jurors expended the precious minutes before the session began fetching cushions to sit on. But Swallow knew the key to comfort in the courtroom was to forget the rear and tend to the stomach. The hour was already late to complete such an important trial; most likely the verdict would be delivered after sundown and all would be going home in the dark (though to his “home,” fortunately, Swallow did not have far to go). In anticipation of the inevitable longeurs , he carried in the fold of his blanket a hunk of white cheese and a handful of olives. Seeing this bounty, Deuteros nodded his appreciation, then opened his cloak to flash a loaf of good bread.
    “Now if they only allowed wine!”
    The clerk gavelled the room to order. Since this was an Athenian court, the task took several attempts. Some bumpkin had sneaked a sick lamb to the proceedings, no doubt hidden under his cloak, which bucked free and scampered under the benches. There was some commotion as the baying animal was cornered; the uproar gave the Scythian bailiffs, who looked like vain bears in their animal skins and city jewelry, a relished opportunity to shove people. The lamb was ejected over the vigorous objections of its owner, who also insisted on leaving despite the fact that the doors were sealed, with no one permitted to enter or exit. The dispute was resolved by the application of a club to the juror’s head. Out cold, the man was returned to his seat—hopefully to revive in time to cast his ballot.
    All this time Swallow kept his eye on Aeschines, who was seated on the prosecutor’s bench to the right of the magistrate’s bema. The old master was sitting very straight, eyes moving over some scribblings before him, lips moving slightly, as if in final rehearsal of a prepared