The following story is based on actual Greek history. The writing style is based on the prose version of Homer’s Iliad/Odyssey.

BOOK I

Sing goddess, of Pericles, and the second year of the hard fought war between Athens of high moral walls, and Sparta of the mighty spear. Sing from the time that the grass greened, and Demeter let the earth grow, as she saw her daughter return to her arms once more. Of the time that mighty Zeus the cloud gatherer parted the skies, so Apollo might shine through: and of how the earth bloomed to give its life, but by cruel fate instead the earth would accept in the dust the bodies of many men.

How was it then that these two, Athens of High Moral walls and forceful Sparta, came to the anger that drives the life from men? It was not through the cruelty or anger of the deathless gods, but through the folly of greedy and intolerant mortal men. While many men would later blame the gods in their insolent anger, and many Gods, Athene prominent among them, would become involved, the origins of the stern struggle were not of their doing.

This, then, was how it started: The arrogant people of imposing Sparta would not tolerate the new ideas springing from the land of Athens. And the people of Athens of high moral walls, enlightened though they were in many ways, often approaching in their mind's wit the intelligence of the deathless gods, even with this wisdom did not recognize the bigotry that still lived on in their minds and hearts. They did not tolerate the Spartan's more stern ways. And on both mighty sides, of which there was to be much suffering, greed took their hearts, and they were not content with the size of their empires. Even great hearted Pericles, kindest of heroes, was not immune to this regretful flaw which the cruel fates have bestowed upon the struggling human race.

So there was much of grim battle, which drives men's souls down into Hades. There was much of men being pierced by the cruel bronze of long shadowed spears. The biggest of the fateful battles in the first year had taken place in the vast land between Athens and Sparta, but the Athenians, strong at sea and weak on land, had been beaten back. So when the second summer dawned, after the long winter, the first grim struggle had taken place at Attica, near the walls of glimmering Athens, where the Athenian Hero Nicias, slow of thought, had won glory, but also brought poor fate, as poor great hearted Pericles would soon find. The fool, godlike Nicias, would bring suffering upon the Athenians again years later, when he failed in the conquest of rich Sicily, and lost his honor and his life

This, then, is what had happened, but the fates and the deathless gods were not done playing cruel games on the weak mortal man.

BOOK II

For two weeks after the battle at Attica, the Armies rested, the Athenians happy they had saved their fair city, but sad for all those who had lost their souls to Hades. In this bittersweet atmosphere, behind the walled gates of glimmering Athens, great hearted Pericles strode among his many men, deciding in his heart and mind if they were again ready to fight. Then as he pondered this, his heart and mind arguing the issue, a general and historian, well studied Thucydides, approached him.

So well studied Thucydides spoke, and pondered a question to Pericles, kindest of men: "Godlike Pericles, I see your heart, and indeed your mind, has much to deliberate in this moment. Yet in your eyes I do not see the fire of anger or fear, and it does not appear to me that any deathless god has run off with your wits. Tell me, so that when I go to write the fact of all that has happened here, I can write in truth of what was in Pericles' mind." And for this question, great hearted Pericles had this to respond: "I am not a man without fear godlike Thucydides. Great man though I am, the day my soul flutters down to Hades, weeping for its fate, does not appeal to me, nor is it even neutral in my heart. I am a great warrior, good with the cruel bronze of the sword, and the long shadowed spear; that I am good with these weapons it is true. Yet it is not I among the Athenians who are the greatest with these skills. Romeus and Nicias are stronger, and among the war-loving Spartans there are many who exceed my skill with the cruel bronze: we excel in the glittering sea, and they in the nourishing earth. I feel a slight pain that we, of high morals, and they, of high walls, must fight, for together we were invincible. I have heard old poets tell tales of the heroes at Troy, both of Spartan and Athenian descent, and how they, and indeed all of the Greeks, brought down Priam's sacred city of high-walled Troy."

So this is what great hearted Pericles spoke, but young hearted Thucydides, son of Miltiades of the strategic mind, interrupted: "Godlike Pericles, forgive my intrusion, for I know you are the greatest of all men at the debate, and could speak till your own death of grim old age if allowed, and still men would listen. Yet stark struggle, and fateful battle, is not far from us. Perhaps we could speak currently only of the dark struggle which is fast approaching us?" And to this Pericles, kindest of all men, listened, and he became the wiser for it, as he had learned, for all his love of the debate, that sometimes knowledge could be gained through other men's mouths. And so the better off, he responded: "Well studied Thucydides, your body and heart are young, yet your mind is like that of older men, and you offer good advice. The grim struggle is near upon us, that is true, and like many heroes, not being the strongest of all men, there is a coward within me who worries that I may die before I win any glory and honor among the merciless clashing of bronze and men. But then I am comforted that even if my soul goes to Hades, and my physical deeds have not been great, I will live as long as any hero through my words, and my ideas. During this winter I gave my greatest speech, giving honor to those who had fallen against the war-loving Spartans, and those before. I spoke of how we of Athens of the high morals fight for our ideas. So great was the power of my tongue, the women and children and old men, and even the sturdy warriors, were moved to tears. This was the power of my words, moving people to tears as it did. Some men are better at building cities than sacking them young Thucydides, you who is well learned. Men can earn equal glory through both. Yet, as you say, enough of these words! As much as I cherish them, winged words do not halt cruel bronze, and as a great hero said during the long siege of high-walled Troy, one who only speaks blows wind. Let us get to action: I should stop with my words, and you with your history till the battle is done."

Such were the words spoken between the two men, and they set off, preparing for murderous battle.

BOOK III

The gates of gleaming Athens opened, and bright eyed Athenian men marched out, kicking up dust from the nourishing earth, and forming many a phalanx as they went. Such were the thoughts of the men on each side: The Spartan men prayed to Zeus the cloud gatherer, and said to him, "All powerful Zeus, give us crushing victory over the Athenian men who march out of glimmering Athens; may not a single man make it back to the city gates so that the city falls easily, and we can sack it and go home to our houses, and children, and wives. And the Athenians also prayed to Zeus, and also Athena, and they spoke: "Zeus, greatest of all gods, and bright eyed Athena, we know the Spartans are too numerous, and too skilled with the cruel bronze to deliver a crushing blow. Yet, grant us success enough to sap the fighting spirit from the murderous Spartans, so they move farther from our city walls, and we can live to fight once more."

These are the words that they spoke, the men of each army, as they looked upon each other, looking for themselves in the enemy’s faces. The spirit in them was not the same as in the Trojan or Persian wars. Gloomy sorrow swept their hearts as they thought on the glory that once was Greece. Of the times of unity, when all the nourishing earth of Greece was confederated for a single goal. Of the time the many black, hollow ships sailed to the shores of high-walled Troy. Those ships had carried heroes from all of Greece: Schedios from Phocia, and murderous Achilles from Argos; Peteos from Athens, and godlike Meleanos from Sparta. One of those hollow ships had also carried resourceful Odysseus, but he had died long ago, and the Age of Heroes had died with him. The soldiers realized this in their mind, and their hearts felt dark gloom descend upon them.

Such was the difficulty the men of each vast army were having, trying to fill their hearts with the fire of battle. But as this gray shadow enveloped the souls of mortal men, up above, on the peaks of god chosen Olympus, bright eyed Athena spoke incensed words to her father, the son of Cronus: "Dear father, all knowing son of Cronus, allow the bright eyed Athenians to win glorious victory on this day against the war loving Trojans, as I know the dark fate which will soon befall my favorite mortals, who live for only so long upon the grain giving earth."

Then all controlling Zeus, already sad and weeping for the Athenians’ fate, was touched by these words spoken by his daughter, bright eyed Athena. And so he spoke winged words of sympathy: "What you speak is right and true, my bright eyed daughter. The Athenians whose city is of high moral walls will win a victory today, though it will not save them the black doom which awaits them, as neither the long-shadowed spear, nor the gleaming sword can save them from that fate. You, bright eyed Athena, should help these mortals who treasure you so, as the war-loving Spartans are better versed in the skills of war, and will win honor today if there is no intervention."

Such were the kind words that all knowing Zeus spoke to strong Athena, and she put on her armor, made of gold, and rushed down to the land in which mortals lived below. There first, she transformed herself into the image of a wise old warrior, and spoke to great hearted Pericles, who himself was outside the city gates. Such were the words that the bright eyed daughter of Zeus spoke: " Godlike Pericles, great though your men are, the Spartan men are greater in grim battle, and individually we shall all be slaughtered. Make sure all your men, from highest to lowest of them all, stays in their place; make sure each stays in the phalanx of which they are part. When a godlike man and one much more mortal stand side by side, even the greatest of men may meet Hades if they try to break that unison." Great hearted Pericles listened to these words, and realized the truth in them, and so spoke these same words to his many bright eyed men. And strong Athena went zipping along the lines of Athenian men, filling their hearts and souls with the fire of battle.

Then the bright eyed goddess went over to the massive lines of the god-loving Spartans. And she zipped along their lines, but purposefully filled their hearts with excessive pride and arrogance, and their hearts overflowed with the spirit of battle. And being as they were, with their hearts too eager for battle, they charged ahead, each man on his own agenda; there was no shape to their movement. Athena had taken their wits away, and they had forgotten the power that lies in unison.

So who, you ask, was the first Spartan to meet solemn doom because he had forgotten that he did not equal a hundred men? It was fast footed Xeno, poor fool, his gift was his downfall, as his fast feet carried him to the wall of bright eyed Athenians first. Now any one of the men that he met, he could have struck down with ease, if it was just the each of them, one on one, as often happened in the age of heroes. Yet when he met the wall of the sturdy Athenians, he could not strike any of them, there were too many long shadowed spears blocking his attack, and he was struck by one of them. The cruel bronze pierced his corselet, and pushed straight on through his skin. He fell to the grain giving earth like a wooden structure which has caught on fire; such is the way that he crumbled down. As he struggled to keep his spirit within him, he spoke warning words to his men: "Halt and reform my fine men, some cruel god has taken our wits away! Have we forgotten the lesson of Aristodemus, how he charged heroically from his line, and killed many a man, but his friends all died for he was not with them? Have we forgotten how he won his battle but endangered the war? Stand shoulder to shoulder my men, let me hear your shield scrape that of the man beside you." Such were the words that he spoke, but most of his breath was wasted as his words drowned beneath the sounds of war, and his men did not hear them.

Next to fall was agile Elymius, so crazed for battle was he that he dropped his spear and took out his gleaming sword. He jumped upon the Athenian line, but there was many a long shadowed spear waiting for him and his corselet was pierced, and he was struck. He fell to the dust and his armor clattered about him. His blood red cape covered over his head as he fell, and his soul left his body in darkness. Romeus looked down on Elymius, and spoke to him, dead though he was: "Poor fool, agility does not let a man jump over a hundred long shadowed spears. You do not see me jumping here and there, yet I am more agile than you were. I stand in my place, and so I survive in this strong line." These were the words that agile Romeus spoke on that day, but it is too bad he was not one to remember his own words. For years later, when the bright thoughts of Pericles were not around to guide his mind, agile Romeus would meet a similar fate on the troubled fields of Sicily.

That is the way that the battle went on that day, as many a fine Spartan warrior fell to the grain giving earth. The war-loving Spartan warriors gained their wits back in time, as they saw their friends falling about them, and the spell cast on them by Athena wore off. When their wits came back to them many men fell on both sides, war-loving Spartan and bright eyed Athenian alike. Romeus, for all his boasting, was hit in the shoulder, though not by his own fault, and retreated to the high-walled city. Well learned Thucydides was struck in his leg, and limped back to the high walls, unhappy that he would have to miss part of history. Great hearted Pericles took a blow to his helmet, but the cruel bronze did not pierce it, and he fought on.

Such was the way that men fell, those with the scarlet cloaks, and those without them. Yet as the conflict wore on it became evident to the Spartan men, in their minds and hearts, that they had lost too many a good man in the opening moments of the solemn struggle. Godlike Archidamus, leader of all Spartans, became sick in his mind as he realized what a few moments of carelessness had cost the strong Spartans. He ordered a retreat, to save his army, and his mind, further trouble.

BOOK IV

The gates of gleaming Athens closed, as sunset entered the sky, her red and orange robe spreading across the earth. Outside the high rising walls, the strong Spartans lit the fires in their camps, and huddled in their tents or near the flame. Yet even soothing fire could not warm much their saddened hearts, and they felt discouraged for all that had happened.

Inside Athens, of high moral walls, the bright eyed men also felt saddened for those who had died, and were tired and worn. Yet they felt glad that they were not among the dead, and proud that they had pushed back the red robed Spartans, who were said to have the greatest of all armies. No bands played, and no crowds cheered, but the atmosphere was not all full of despair, which is the best that can be said of the aftermath of any struggle.

Such was the atmosphere within the high walls of Athens. That night when sunset had left, and the lights of heroes long gone lit the dark sky, godlike Pericles held a dinner feast for those who had helped lead the bright eyed Athenians in the battle, and also for those who helped him run the democracy of the city. An ox was killed, and sacrificed for the deathless gods, who had helped them win glory that day upon the battlefield. There was much talking, but eventually it came time for Pericles to speak, as his speaking was to signal the start of eating. And so he spoke, and all listened: "Friends, both you of the spear, and of the debate, perhaps the best news of me speaking here to you tonight is merely that I still speak. I must speak solemnly, but I do speak optimistically. We have held off much, but there is much yet to come. There will be much more clashing of the cruel bronze, and also that of the crueler iron. The situation might make our fate seem grim, the war-loving Spartan army being so much stronger than our own. Yet, even though all those from the age of heroes are either now dead, in the heavenly night sky, or on islands far away, you, bright eyed Athenians, give me hope in our race yet. You persevere for your city of high moral walls, not for yourselves. Those of you not skilled with the long shadowed spear keep our minds strong within these walls. And you of the glimmering sea, you who sail the known world, you are our blood, here in glimmering Athens. Without you, our food and life would already be running dry, and Athens’ fate would be grim without doubt. We owe our lives most of all to you."

Such were the words that great hearted Pericles spoke. And to demonstrate the truth in his words, he took in his hands a piece of bread imported from Persia, and a drink from Egypt, and sipped the drink. But how some of the gods wept then, for godlike Pericles was not drinking life, but death: the poor, great fool, he did not realize the drink was filled with cruel plague. And his guests also drank of the same drink from Egypt, and their hearts were filled with inevitable death.

BOOK V

Yet, you might ask, how was this plague delivered to Pericles' doorstep? It was a mistake of mighty Zeus, one that set the all-father to much weeping. For before the battle that took place upon the fields of Attica, that which sent many men falling to the dust, their souls weeping for their fate, ox-eyed Hera had spoken to Zeus in angry terms, as she often did. "Mighty Zeus, father of all, I realize my will to you is nothing, as you are far stronger than I, yet your arrogance angers me, and fills my immortal soul with burning fire. I know well of your plan to let the Athenians win a humble victory over the Spartans - enough to let them get behind their high flung walls before the rest of the strong Spartan men arrive. Mighty Zeus, gatherer of clouds, you have already once upon sacred ground given the Athenians glorious victory: when they fought and defeated the many numbered Persians, without the help of the war-loving Spartans, you also fated them for victory, and you only do it because they honor so your daughter - bright eyed Athena. While I realize you have no need to acknowledge my will, this so angers me that I wish to make with you a deal. I wish that if any Athenian strikes the general of the Spartans, Archidamus of the gleaming helmet, in the heart, a great plague will be unleashed upon the Athenians two weeks from the battle, and this shall be the start of their doom."

So she spoke, and almighty Zeus smiled in his heart, for he knew this was a proposal that he could nod to and bring no harm. For he knew that it was not fated for Archidamus to die among the fields of Attica, and no mortal man had ever survived a hit from the cruel bronze to the heart; even to the immortals such a grim hit caused much suffering. So knowing godlike Archidamus was not to be hurt upon those fields, Zeus spoke: "Ox-eyed Hera, do not tempt me with your stinging words and hatred, for you are right when you say that I am far more powerful than you, and all the other deathless gods. So I warn you, watch your tongue. Yet, despite my great anger at your piercing words, like the cruel bronze your words are, I will accept your proposal. For I know godlike Archidamus will not crash to the nourishing earth on the day of that battle, and thus the Athenians will suffer no plague. Look now, I nod my head in my consent to your proposal, and all mortals and deathless gods know that whatever I nod my head to must be true."

So these were the words that they spoke to each other, mighty Zeus and ox-eyed Hera. But, for the suffering of man, Hera had tricked Zeus, the cloud gatherer, once more. During the grim fighting at Attica, the Athenian hero Nicias, slow of thought, brought his spear against Archidamus, and pierced his corselet with the cruel bronze, and hit his heart. This is what Nicias did. The fool, he did not realize he was killing one man of the enemy, and thus also killing nearly all the noble men of Athens. Yet even this he did not achieve, the fool, for Hera at the last moment turned Archidamus heart to iron, and the cruel bronze did not pierce it.

Such was the fighting that took place upon the fields of fair Attica. The all- powerful Zeus, looking on from the heights of Olympus, cried in anguish as he saw this, for he knew Hera of many schemes had tricked him again. Such were the words that he spoke then: "Hera, trickster, cruel, deathless god, I should punish you endlessly for all you have done. You should be made to take Tantalus’s place among murky Hades, such is the extent of your crimes, when you combine all that you have tricked me into! Yet I call you my wife, and so punishment shall not come! For Archidamus was hit in the heart, and thus a plague must come hard upon the Athenians. Yet he was not killed, and thus the fates, and you ox-eyed Hera, are also satisfied." And Hera of many schemes smiled in her heart, though she was wise enough not to let her lips smile in view of the eyes of her husband, the son of Cronus, as mighty Zeus was a very angry deathless god.

So that, then, was how this plague was delivered to the doorstep of great hearted Pericles. Suffering and plague themselves delivered it there, so grim it was that they stuck it in a jar until they arrived, so that they would not become infected. When they took the bloodthirsty plague from the reliable land of the Nile, the Egyptians were happy to see it go.

BOOK VI

A week passed over the grain-giving Earth, and a dark sky settled over the city of Athens. Its high moral walls did not protect it from a plague, which had entered like the Trojan horse itself. Pericles had fallen ill first, but soon the black hand had touched a third of the once bright eyed people. Outside the high walls, the war-loving Spartans saw the dark sky over the glimmering city, and felt sorrow in their hearts, both for their own fates, and for the Athenians. For now no man would dare take that city of high moral walls, the city itself they might take with ease, but each man knew that the darkness within those walls would just as easily take their souls, and send them down to Hades. That darkness, they said to themselves, could not be conquered with the cruel bronze.

Inside those walls, high though they were, Pericles lay dying, his body looking as if it had been struck by cruel old age. Many once bright eyed friends stood near him, many of them were beginning to look old too, but Pericles was the oldest, older than those who had lived for many true years upon the nourishing earth. His spirit was only weakly with him, but still he spoke, and still people listened: "Such are the games that the gods play, that a man might be saved countless times in the solemn battle that brings death as a rule, but yet be killed by the very thing that brings him life. But remember, my friends, that this is not our end, it is not even my end, even if my soul leaves me, and I am no more. For we will be remembered for what we have done, that part of us is truly immortal. Even if the deathless gods were to strike down every mortal upon this earth, and leave only the war-loving Spartans standing: even they would remember us." And he stopped speaking, for he was done.

Such was the way that Pericles left Athens, his spirit passing the high walls, sad for all it was leaving behind, and for the way in which it had to leave, but feeling not so sad as it might be.

BOOK VII

There was no great funeral for Pericles. Such was the extent of the cruel death that no great funeral could be given. Godlike Achilles’ funeral was not to be his, nor great hearted Hecktor’s. He was put into the nourishing earth along with all those others who had been touched by the black hand. He was put into the nourishing earth with the godlike men of the long shadowed spear who fought beside him, the men of the water who brought Athens life, the men of debate who gave Athens ideas. And he was put into the nourishing earth with the carpenters and the farmers, and the common soldier who fought beside him.

Such was the burial they gave to Pericles, kindest of men.

Historic Info from "Greece and Rome at War" by Peter Connolly. Greenhill Books, London, 1981.