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The Trial of Socrates
Lysander tightened his grip on the bronze voting token in the palm of his hand, listening to the murmurs ripple across the five hundred citizens assembled in the Athenian court. The afternoon heat beat down mercilessly upon the stone benches of the Agora, and the prosecution had just concluded its demand for the death penalty. According to long-standing custom, an accused man in this desperate hour would bring weeping children before the bench, tear his garments, and plead for the mercy of the city.
What the jurors expected was a desperate plea for exile or a heavy fine. Instead, the elderly stonecutter stepped toward the water clock with an amused, steady gaze, wrapped in his customary frayed cloak.
Rarely had any defendant addressed the democratic assembly with such tranquil defiance. Under no circumstances would Socrates