X) Plato's Cave
X) Plato’s Cave
02/11/298BC
Outskirts of Heraklion, Ierapetran Crete
02/11/298BC
Outskirts of Heraklion, Ierapetran Crete
The winters in Crete were mild, in truth to even call them winters was an insult to those that raged in the northern boundaries of the known world.
The day found itself drawing to a close and the sun appearing as a low, fat ball of intense red was seemingly but half an hour away from plunging into the cool waters surrounding Crete.
The island was bathed in the warm, rich light of dusk, resplendent in deep terracottas and earthy oranges.
Oblivious to this natural beauty was Basileus Alkimos. Ruler of Ierapetra and the most powerful man on all of Crete. Sitting on a stone bench not far from his newly built Heraklion oikos, his attention was focused entirely on the opened scroll resting on his lap.
Above his head whipped and wheeled a number of small black shapes, bats likely, emitting occasional chirps and clicks.
Approaching from his rear was a man holding a wax tablet, a long black shadow stalking his advance like a pool of dark ink. Were he an assassin his technique would be flawless, sandalled feet hushed by the soft grasses and brush, shadow thrown away unsighted by the figure in situ.
Fortunate was it for the Basileus that it was no assassin but Neoptolemos Megalid the archigrammateus of Ierapetra.
“Basileus, do I find you at an opportune time?” Asked Neoptolemos softly, careful not to startle the Basileus.
He turned and glanced over his shoulder. “Are you aware of Plato’s cave?” He asked before turning back to his scroll.
“No Basileus, is it in Greece?”
“It is not a real cave.” Scoffed the Basileus then patted the empty space on the bench beside him. Neoptolemos accepted the invitation with a nod and shuffled around to sit. “If a man is chained in a cave, his eyes fixed ahead on a wall which is illuminated from behind by a fire, or the sun, he will see only the shadows of what passes behind.” He looked quizzically at Neoptolemos and seeing no understanding continued. “This man would interpret these shadows not as they are but as… shades, untruths.”
“Basileus I am no philosopher, caves are caves and shadows are shadows.” Shrugged the archigrammateus.
Basileus Alkimos frowned and looked away dismissively. “Foolish to think you would understand my realisation.”
Neoptolemos inclined his head. “Realisation Basileus?”
“The fire is now ahead of me, no longer behind.” He paused, “It is now my shadow that haunts the cave.” He scanned Neoptolemos’ eyes for a hint of acknowledgement but was met with a blank stare, he sniffed. “What trivial matter has drawn your dull wittedness?” He snapped as he hurriedly rolled up the scroll.
“There are a small number of decisions which need your approval. Minor matters that find themselves outside our authority.” He held the wax tablet in both hands and rolled his shoulders, allowing his chiton to settle in a more comfortable arrangement.
“And they are?” Replied the Basileus in a facetious tone.
“The fort in Knossos is complete and garrisoned. Epistrategos Antigonos has suggested we free a number of slaves, they would still be bound to us as metics and we would obligate them to establish a small camp around the forts vicinity.”
The Basileus’ brow furrowed. “To what end? How would that prove beneficial?”
“Antigonos would expect them to farm the land as they can, they would provide food for the soldiers. They could also be useful as a scouts at the Phrygian border, or the like.”
“Provided there are no impacts elsewhere I am in agreement.” He took the wax tablet and made his mark before passing it back. “Are there any concerns with the Phrygians?”
“No Basileus. They keep to themselves, Amphoteros Nikokrid still laments his appointment as governor. Damokrates sighted a missive to the mainland, Amphoteros’ petitions to be recalled go unheeded and he seems disillusioned with his countrymen.”
“Good.” Muttered the Basileus.
“The other matter is a petition from your archisomatophylax…”
“”Nikeratos and his temple I would guess?” Interjected the Basileus a pained expression on his face.
“Indeed, the attempt on your life in Lyctus is a weight on him still. Blood in the temple, his failure to prevent it. He petitions you to renovate the temple, have it cleansed and re-devoted. His fourth request I believe.”
“No doubt backed by Chabrias?”
“He is the hierophant Basileus.”
The Basileus let out a stifled laugh. “Now the Gods they are shadows.” He pointed to the setting sun, “If this World is our cave then the Gods must reside between us and the sun.” He swept his hand out as if caressing the horizon. “I see nothing.”
“It would be a small gesture to ease the pain of a trusted servant. There is gold to spare.” Neoptolemos offered the wax tablet tentatively. Following a moments hesitation the Basileus made his mark.
A shiver stole across Basileus Alkimos and he drew his chlamys tight around his shoulder. “Are there any more matters outside of your authority?”
The sigh that escaped Neoptolemos was one of resignation. “Your wife asks if she may send the Prince, he miss…” Basileus Alkimos silenced him with a wave.
Neoptolemos stood with a wince as as a joint popped. “My Basileus,” he said once upright. “There is a chill in the air, tarry not too long here. The lamps shall be lit, an extra pinch of salt should you wish to read into the morning.” He bowed as he stepped backwards then turned and slowly walked back to the oikos.
This time no shadow trailed him for the sun was all but extinguished.
