Historical Tales [calibre 5.4.1]

Chlidon, ready to obey orders, went home for his bridle, but failed to find it in its usual place. He asked his wife where it was. She pretended at first to help him look for it, but at last, in a tone of contrition, acknowledged that she had lent it, without asking him, to a neighbor. Chlidon, in a burst of anger at the delay to his journey, entered into a loud altercation with the woman, who grew angry on her part and wished him ill luck on his journey. Word led to word, both sides grew more angry and abusive, and at length he began to beat his wife, and continued his ill treatment until her cries brought neighbors in to separate them. But all this caused a loss of time, the bridle was not in this way to be had, and in the end Chlidon's journey was stopped, and the message he had been asked to bear never reached the conspirators on their way. Accidents of this kind often frustrate the best-laid plans. In this case the accident was providential to the conspiracy.

And now, what were these seven men to do? Four men—Leontiades, Archias, Philippus, and Hypates—had the city under their control. But they were supported in their tyranny by a garrison of fifteen hundred Spartans and allies in the Cadmeia, and Lacedæmonian posts in the other cities around. These four men were to be dealt with, and for that purpose the seven had come. On the evening of the next day Archias and Philippus designed to have a banquet. Phyllidas, their secretary, but secretly one of the patriots, had been ordered to prepare the banquet for them, and had promised to introduce into their society on that occasion some women of remarkable beauty and of the best families in Thebes. He did not hint to them that these women would wear beards and carry daggers under their robes.

We have told, in a previous tale, the story of the "Seven against Thebes." The one with which we are now concerned might be properly entitled the "Seven for Thebes." That night and the following day the devoted seven lay concealed. Evening came on. The hour when they were to play their parts had nearly arrived. They were in that state of strained expectation that brings the nerves to the surface, and started in sudden dread when a loud knock came upon the door. They were still more startled on hearing its purpose. A messenger had come to bid Charon instantly to come to the presence of the two feasting polemarchs.

What did it mean? Had the plot been divulged? Had the timid Hipposthenidas betrayed them? At any rate, there was but one thing to do; Charon must go at once. But he, faithful soul, was most in dread that his friends should suspect him of treachery. He therefore brought his son, a highly promising youth of fifteen, and put him in the hands of Pelopidas as a hostage for his fidelity.

"This is folly!" cried they all. "No one doubts you. Take the boy away. It is enough for us to face the danger; do not seek to bring the boy into the same peril."

Charon would not listen to their remonstrances, but insisted on leaving the youth in their hands, and hastened away to the house of the polemarchs. He found them at the feast, already half intoxicated. Word had been sent them from Athens that some plot, they knew not what, was afloat. He was known to be a friend of the exiles. He must tell them what he knew about it.

Fortunately, the pair were too nearly drunk to be acute. Their suspicions were very vague. Charon, aided by Phyllidas, had little trouble in satisfying them that the report was false. Eager to get back to their wine they dismissed him, very glad indeed to get away. Hardly had he gone before a fresh message, and a far more dangerous one, was brought to Archias, sent by a namesake of his at Athens. This gave a full account of the scheme and the names of those who were to carry it out. "It relates to a very serious matter," said the messenger who bore it.

"Serious matters for to-morrow," cried Archias, with a drunken laugh, as he put the unopened despatch under the pillow of his couch and took up the wine-cup again.

"Those whom the gods mean to destroy they first make mad," says an apposite Grecian proverb. These men were foredoomed.

"A truce to all this disturbance," cried the two polemarchs to Phyllidas. "Where are the women whom you promised us? Let us see these famous high-born beauties."

Phyllidas at once retired, and quickly returned with the seven conspirators, clothed in female attire. Leaving them in an adjoining chamber, he entered the banquet-room, and told the feasters that the women refused to come in unless all the domestics were first dismissed.

"Let it be so," said Archias, and at the command of Phyllidas the domestics sought the house of one of their number, where the astute secretary had well supplied them with wine.

The two polemarchs, with one or two friends, alone remained, all half intoxicated, and the only armed one being Cabeirichus, the archon, who was obliged by law to keep always with him the consecrated spear of office.

And now the supposed and eagerly expected women were brought in,—three of them attired as ladies of distinction, the four others dressed as attendants. Their long veils and ample robes completely disguised them, and they sat down beside the polemarchs without a suspicion being entertained. Not till their drunken companions lifted their veils did the truth appear. But the lifting of the veils was the signal for quick and deep dagger-thrusts, and Archias and Philippus, with scarcely a movement of resistance, fell dead from their seats. No harm was meant to the others, but the drunken archon rushed on the conspirators with his spear, and in consequence perished with his friends.