The Last King of Lydia by Tim Leach Page B

of the army, was the leader of this faction. An old man now, with the loose-skinned and weary features of a
soldier who had spent a lifetime fighting enemies abroad and politicians at home, he had led the army even in the days of Croesus’s father. Repeatedly and forcefully, he argued that Lydia had
grown strong through trade and good governance; why risk it all on war with the East? What did events so far away have to do with the Lydian empire?
    It was only after the discussion had continued for some time, growing increasingly heated, that the men around the table realized that the king had yet to speak.
    One by one, they fell silent and turned to face their ruler. ‘Forgive us,’ said one of the young noblemen. ‘We have spoken at great length, and not waited to hear you, as we
should have done.’ He coughed apologetically. ‘What, may we ask, do you think?’
    What did he think? Croesus almost laughed. How could so grave a decision be made on the basis of doubt and suspicion, but nothing more? He could feel the excitement around the table at the
thought of war, but he found himself unmoved by it. It mattered little to him who ruled over the lands to the east – Astyages had been his brother king in name only. Given a little more time,
another year or so, he believed he would find the right way to use his wealth.
    And yet, for all this, when he came to speak, he could not find the words for peace. ‘I thank you all for your counsel,’ he said. ‘What an embarrassment of riches you have
given me; enough to put those of my treasuries to shame!’ Laughter broke out around the table. ‘I have no hunger for war,’ Croesus continued, the words coming easily now,
‘but will the Persian be satisfied with his new-won kingdom? I think not.’ He looked across at Sandanis. ‘Do not worry,’ Croesus said. ‘I will not be rash. We shall
consult with the oracles, and with our allies. I have detained you all too long from your own affairs.’ He gestured towards the door. ‘You may leave.’
    The king drummed his fingers on the marble table, smiling and nodding as each of the noblemen departed the council chamber. He sat in silence for a time after they had gone. He turned to
Isocrates.
    ‘Your thoughts?’ Croesus said.
    ‘Of war with Persia?’
    Croesus shook his head, and nodded at the empty chairs. ‘Of them.’
    Isocrates shrugged. ‘Divided. They will follow where you lead.’
    ‘Yes. Or where the Gods lead.’
    ‘That is true, master.’
    ‘We must have a prophecy to guide us. To which of the oracles should we turn? Abae?’
    ‘The prophet at Abae is a stubborn old man, master. He doesn’t like foreigners. If you were a Hellene, I might recommend it, but as a Lydian . . .’
    ‘Ah. That is unfortunate. You know much of these matters?’
    ‘I rely on the opinions of men who are wiser than I, master.’
    ‘Well, what do these wiser men have to say of Dodona?’
    ‘I have yet to hear him give a favourable word for war. He lost both his sons in battle many years ago.’ Isocrates hesitated for a moment. ‘He would give you a prophecy to
prevent a war, not to begin one.’
    ‘What about Ammon, in Libya? Astyages always swore by him.’
    ‘I wouldn’t trust a Libyan on a matter like this.’
    ‘Prejudice from you, Isocrates?’
    ‘Forgive me, master. But I think prophecy is a matter best left to the Hellenes.’
    ‘Perhaps you are right. Look at what happened to Astyages, after all. I imagine you have objections to Trophonius at Lebadaea as well?’
    ‘Athens has bought him out. He will not give a good word to any other city or nation.’
    ‘Well, it appears our choice is made for us. Delphi it is.’
    ‘The Pythia does give the best prophecies.’ He tried to smile. ‘I hesitate to say it, to you of all people, master, but you know it will cost you dearly?’
    ‘Do not be concerned with that. What else needs to be done?’
    Isocrates thought for a moment. ‘We will need to offer a