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to play with the stylus between his fingers. “A victory would be good for Athens. It would show the world we are still the first city in Hellas.” Pericles smacked the bronze stylus down onto the folding table. “The experts tell me the only event an Athenian is likely to win this Olympiad is the pankration.”
    I nodded. I’d heard the same opinions.
    “Our enemies would be pleased to see us humbled,” Periclescontinued. “If we won nothing, they would say the democracy had sapped the will of the people or claim the Gods have abandoned us because our way of government is unnatural.”
    He was probably right. Powerful men all across Hellas already feared that the democracy might spread to their own cities.
    Pericles walked to the entrance of the tent and raised the flap to look out upon the chaos. At that moment an unwashed donkey passed by. It stopped right outside the tent and turned its head to stare at Pericles. Pericles stared back. The donkey excreted a large quantity of diarrheic poo, then walked on.
    Pericles grimaced in disgust, flung down the tent flap, and turned back to me. “If I intervene, it will cost political capital. Capital I don’t want to spend, unless this Timodemus will win. Tell me, Nicolaos, he’s your friend, what do you think?”
    I said, “Timodemus is good, very good.” I rubbed my throat and winced. “But so are the other competitors. At this level, anything could happen.”
    “Particularly if the Gods take a hand,” Pericles added.
    “Yes, but no one has a better chance of winning than Timodemus,” I said, careful with my choice of words but determined that Pericles should support Timo.
    “Not even this Arakos from Sparta, to whom your friend took such a dislike?”
    “Timodemus defeated Arakos at the Nemean Games last year. He has nothing to fear from the Spartan.” I repeated the words Dromeus the trainer had said to me.
    “Nicolaos, I want an Athenian victory. We need a victory.”
    I said, disturbed, “Pericles, why do you tell me? It’s Zeus who grants the victory. No one else.”
    “But Timodemus is our only hope. Let us give Zeus every opportunity to decide the outcome our way. I will go to the judges and convince them that this has been a tussle between two young men worked up by the emotions of the ceremony, and no different from the hundreds of squabbles we all know will occurover the next five days. No one expels the young men in the camps for high spirits and rough play. I will persuade the judges to see this unfortunate incident in the same light.”
    “Thank you, Pericles.”
    “Don’t thank me. I haven’t finished yet. The Spartans will want our man out of the Games, especially since he beat their man last time they met. They will argue that Timodemus has committed a clear breach and must be expelled. If I convince the judges otherwise, the Spartans will feel there’s bias against them, and tension will rise between Athens and Sparta.”
    “Will anyone notice? The Spartans already hate us.”
    “It could be a lot worse than it is. We know Corinth has asked Sparta to help them in their war against us. We also know Sparta hasn’t said yes, at least not yet. We don’t want to encourage that.”
    Athens and Corinth had been at war for some time, the issue being control of Megara, a weak city that lay halfway between us. Megara controlled access in and out of the Peloponnese. If Athens won that war, we could block any Spartan army from reaching Athens, and we’d be safe at last.
    Pericles was right. We definitely didn’t want Sparta involved in that fight.
    Pericles picked up the stylus once more and slapped it against his palm. “Your job, Nicolaos, is to keep your friend out of trouble. No more incidents. Assault can work both ways. You understand me? The same people who’d like to see us humbled might not be averse to helping Zeus with his decision.”
    I hadn’t thought of that.
    “Don’t worry, Pericles, I’ll watch like a hungry