Libus, too, was shocked: he ordered the servants to bring Theodorus, another doctor.
As the news spread through town, people gathered in the street in front of Alcaeus’ house, angry townsmen, yelling about Charaxos, calling on Pittakos for justice.
During the night, a mob threatened Charaxos’ home, and in the morning, they stoned the place, battering shutters, screaming and demanding justice.
Pittakos sent soldiers to maintain order but the soldiers sided with the mob, forcing the doors, smashing furniture and chasing away the servants.
Sometime during the day, Charaxos and Rhodopis fled in one of their wine boats, heading for the mainland. I understand there was a fracas in the square, some wanting to overtake the ship.
For two days, I did not leave Alcaeus’ home, taking turns at his side. In that circle of close friends, death pushed us hard, trying to break through.
Finally, Libus, more lean-faced and pallid than usual, from his sleepless nights and responsibility, drew me aside:
“He’s going to pull through. You can go home and rest. Trust me...”
I slept and dreamed and came back and the days went like that before Alcaeus was out of danger, and we cheered him on the road to recovery.
Pittakos and some of his officials visited him, expressing their regrets, saying a committee had called, demanding Charaxos’ punishment. I kept out of the room, leaving Alcaeus and Libus to handle the situation.
“Our tyrant sides with me!” Alcaeus chortled after they had gone. “I’ve won!”
It is a poor victory: we have not won back our years of exile. But, for the citizenry, this is something on the side of justice and worth talking about.
For my part, I suspect that Charaxos will return presently, unmolested. He is too important to our local welfare, employing too many, to be brushed aside. When his boat anchors, Pittakos will fine him lightly. By then, sentiment will have cooled.
Justice is rightly placed among the stars.
On my next visit to Alcaeus, I took my clay animals and placed them in his hands, describing each, one by one. He felt them carefully—too slowly—a sad expression on his face.
“So Aesop made them?” he said. “It’s good you have them...proof that his world is still here. I wish I could remember his...his faith...”