Warriors in Bronze Page 23

  'They are crossing in numbers, sire?' Bunus inquired.

  'The movement,' said Atreus grimly, 'has attained the pro­portions of a mass immigration. They land and take to the mountains, where they reinforce the Goatmen. If we don't soon stop it we'll become embroiled in a ceaseless war of attrition. And not Mycenae alone. Every civilized city will likewise suffer.'-

  Heroes shook doubtful heads. Some smiled behind their hands. Goatmen raids and counter-raids had become a way of life, a repetitive military exercise to keep warriors on their toes, a salutary irritant like blistering a horse. None conceived them a major menace. Atreus' far-seeing vision proved every­body wrong.

  The king pulled closer his cloak and leaned against the pillar. 'That's the situation, gentlemen. You'll take this as a warning order. The Host will muster at Corinth when sowing is done; after the next full moon, let us say. I shall send you detailed instructions.'

  The Heroes saluted, hurried thankfully into the Hall to warm themselves at the hearth, and in due course departed for their homes. I stayed awhile at Mycenae, dividing my time between residence at a manor I held nearby and sharing Menelaus' quarters in the palace. Crossing the Great Court with my brother one afternoon I met a toddler some five years old who broke from his nursemaid, wrapped arms around my leg and lifted a laughing face in the way that children do. I ruffled his hair, gently disengaged him and returned the boy to the flustered servant.

  'Who is the brat?' I asked Menelaus.

  'Aegisthus, Atreus' son - and Pelopia's.'

  'Oh. A bonny child. How is Pelopia?'

  Menelaus shook his head. 'Can't say. Hardly ever see her. Spends all her time in the royal suite surrounded by her ladies,

  everlastingly spinning and weaving, so I'm told.'

  'A queen can have worse occupations.'-

  'True.'

  A melancholy look crossed my brother's face. My chance remark had evoked Aerope's pitiful end. I said quickly, 'Is it true Thyestes has returned to Elis?'

  'Yes - after making a pilgrimage to Dodona.'

  'Damn my blood! Like Atreus? A good thing they didn't meet! Have you any idea what the Oracle told him ?'

  Thyestes puts it about,' said Menelaus sourly, 'that the Oracle promised him Mycenae's rule.'

  'What utter non—' I checked, and felt discomforted. The Lady undoubtedly had a habit of keeping Her promises. .'Well,' I finished lamely, 'it doesn't seem very probable.'

  'Most unlikely - I hope. To win the throne Thyestes must get rid of Atreus first, then you, then me. A distressing prospect, if the Oracle prophesied truly.'

  'Oracles,' I said firmly, 'can be wrong.'

  I was on the point of leaving for Tiryns when a courier arrived from Argos and delivered his message, speaking stiltedly by rote, to Atreus in the stables. The king sent for me and said without preamble, 'Adrastus seeks my alliance in a cam­paign against Thebes.'

  Thebes? The strongest city north of the Isthmus? What makes him think —'

  'He doesn't think. The old fool is letting personal pique over­ride polity, and will earn a thumping defeat unless he's lucky.'

  Atreus waved away the courier standing stiffly to attention, and summarized a chain of complicated factors. When the Thebans banished Oedipus, his queen's brother Creon had ruled the city as Regent until Oedipus' sons Eteocles and Polyneices came of age. Creon had then surrendered the sceptre and proposed the brothers should rule either as co-kings or alternately year by year. (A more asinine suggestion I cannot imagine.) Naturally the arrangement failed to work; the pair quarrelled violently over protocol and power. Eteocles, the more skilful intriguer, won by bribes the palace Heroes' back­ing and hunted Polyneices from the kingdom.

  Because Polyneices had married Argeia, one of King Adras­tus' daughters (the other daughter wed Tydeus and became

  Diomedes' mother), he fled to Argos and begged the king's help in restoring him to the throne and kicking Eteocles out. Adras­tus decided the slight to his kindred affronted his ageing dignity, lost his temper, started mustering his Host and sent emissaries to neighbouring cities requesting support.

  'Adrastus,' Atreus continued, 'says Polyneices still commands the allegiance of important Theban nobles who will change sides directly his Host appears at the gates. I don't believe it. Tyndareus of Sparta has refused. So shall I. Apparently Adras­tus has been promised help only by Parthenopaeus, one of King Agapenor's semi-independent Arcadian Heroes, and of course by his own chief Argive nobles Tydeus, Capaneus and Hip- pomedon. Amphiaraus also, who has lately returned from the Hellespont.'

  'Which, with Polyneices and Adrastus himself, makes a total of seven.'

  'Yes. Seven against Thebes. Heroes leading warbands raised from their own estates, some numerous and strong, some not. Virtually an Argive Host. Not nearly enough. A successful war on Thebes demands more than one kingdom's manpower.'

  I contemplated a groom oiling a roan stallion's mane and plaiting and tying the hair in upright pointed locks. 'It is a good excuse for smashing Theban power. Why won't you help Adrastus?'

  'Because,' said Atreus irascibly, 'I'm embarking on my own campaign which I don't intend to postpone. Secondly, Adras­tus' is a half-baked expedition, thrown together in haste, under- strength, cobbled with threads of disaster. You don't make war on Thebes without thorough preparation and the odds heavily in your favour. Senility, I think, corrodes Adrastus' judgment.'

  'He's a friendly ally. Won't your refusal anger him? Unwise to rouse a neighbouring realm's hostility.'

  Atreus broodingly watched a Companion yoking in his char­iot a pair of prancing greys. 'You're probably right - though apparently it doesn't worry Sparta. I'll send him a token force: possibly a dozen chariots and a few score spears.'

  I said impulsively, 'Let me lead them, sire.'

  The king's brows met in a bristly grey-flecked bar. 'Why? What a damnfool idea! Who would lead the Tiryns contingent to Sicyon ?'

  'There are plenty of first-class fighting-men among my Heroes. No - I have it! Put Menelaus in command. He has never been given a chance to lead a warband in battle.'

  Atreus scowled. I persisted. Striding up and down the stables' stone-flagged yards, peering into stalls and watching grooms at work, I argued that the heir apparent commanding Mycenae's detachment would give the force prestige and mitigate its weakness in Adrastus' eyes. I emphasized the importance of keeping on terms with Argos.

  My motives were mixed.

  Privately I considered that little renown or reward would be won by anyone but Atreus in subduing lesser cities such as Sicyon and Pellene: the glory of a Theban victory beckoned. 1 wanted an independent command unconfined by Atreus' strict direction: King Adrastus, I felt, drove Heroes on looser reins. Finally I had never, in Achaea, travelled north of Megara. Fresh pastures drew me strongly as they had Tyndareus' Twins.

  Atreus gave way; and grumpily examined a horse suspected of glanders. I hurried off before he could change his mind, and informed Menelaus. At noon we drove to Argos and spent the night in the palace where I told Adrastus tactfully that though Atreus and his Host were otherwise engaged he had agreed to detach a warband to reinforce the Argives. Pouring diplomatic oil on the king's spluttering vexation I promised a handpicked force of proven, valorous warriors. Slightly mollified, he told me to bring my men to Argos within four days.

  Deeming it prudent that Adrastus rather than Atreus be annoyed I limited my detachment to seven chariots and fifty spears, collected the usual assortment of baggage carts, drovers, grooms, spare horses, hounds, meat on the hoof and slaves and departed for Argos. Warbands dribbled to the muster. Swarthy, squat Tydeus, Leader of the Host, swore volubly when Par- thenopaeus' warband straggled in from Arcadia.

  'Never seen such a ragbag bunch! Hardly a cuirass among them, half-starved horses, three ox-carts and no rations. Say they're accustomed to living off the land and will pick up sup­plies as they go. The idiots seem to think they can pillage their way through Argos, Mycenae and Attica. Damned unc
ivilized hooligans!'

  Amphiaraus, my late commander at the Hellespont tranship- merit station, further ruffled Tydeus' irascible temper. Married to King Adrastus' sister Eriphyle - the woman sharing his bed on that long-ago dawn in Midea - he had acquired, as I have related earlier in this history, a certain prophetic fame. He now mooned round the citadel disseminating dismay and despond­ency by lugubriously predicting the expedition's failure. He asserted in hollow tones that of all the seven leaders Adrastus alone would survive. Such defeatism encouraged nobody: I had difficulty dissuading my Heroes from a precipitate return to Tiryns. Adrastus himself was furious and engaged his brother-in-law in a stand-up row. At one time the entire venture looked like coming to pieces. A worried Polyneices, seeing his chance of regaining the Theban throne dissolving before his eyes, persuaded Eriphyle to intervene and reconcile her quarrelling relations.

  In view of later events I feel there must be something in this soothsaying after all.

  * * *

  The Host at last set off. I attached my command to Tydeus' warband and travelled most of the way in Diomedes' chariot, relegating his Companion to my own alongside Talthybius. Tydeus lacked Atreus' superb organizational skill. The troops straggling through Mycenae's lands (with Atreus' permission) forcibly reminded me of King Eurystheus' disjointed column years before. Blockages, confusion and delay. An unfortunate incident when we camped at Nemea afforded Amphiaraus a further pretext for prophesying doom. A snake bit the War­den's son, and the child died. Amphiaraus beat his breast and called it an ominous sign. Tydeus, blackly furious, nearly put him under arrest.

  We took four days to reach the Isthmus Wall where masons added finishing touches to towers and forts; and threaded the perilous passage past Sciron's Rocks. Slow progress; and I could not resist, for Diomedes' benefit, recalling Atreus' trouble-free high-speed marches. Tydeus' son said crossly, 'That's all very well. Your father is his own Marshal; mine has an interfering, pernickety old man to placate. Adrastus insists on old-fash­ioned methods: what his father did is good enough for him. And that takes you back fifty years. Adrastus is past cam­paigning; he should have stayed in Argos.'

  We crossed the Megaran battlefield. A drift of whitened bones still spattered the plain - skulls mouldering under bushes, golden spires of broom piercing a broken rib cage. I described the battle to Diomedes, traced on the ground my chase after Theseus, indicated the course of that final devastating charge.

  'I suppose we'll meet the Scavengers,' said Diomedes pen­sively. 'Let's hope they don't surprise us as they did' - he flashed me a sidelong smile - 'the Mycenaean Host.'

  'They may have disintegrated - bugger boys are tempera­mental people. Do you know anything about the Theban order of battle?'

  Diomedes shook his head.

  Nor, so far as I could discover, did anyone else in the Argive Host. We were blundering into Attica, Thebes a two-day march away, ignorant of hostile strength, whether they meant to hold the Cithaeron Mountain passes, assemble on the Asopos plain beyond or concentrate in Thebes itself. An Athenian deputa­tion met us when we camped for the night near Eleusis and politely inquired our purpose in entering Attic territory. Adras­tus assured 'King' Theseus' ambassador he was merely passing peacefully through to chastise Thebes - and had he any in­formation about Eteocles' dispositions. He might have been ask­ing a doting mother when her daughter last was raped. The Athenian assumed a shocked expression and asserted no The­ban warrior trod Attic soil this side Cithaeron. More he could not say: Athens and Thebes had no relations.

  A thorough-paced liar - the cities were close as lovers in bed.

  The Host - three thousand fighting men and twice as many followers - set out northward from Eleusis on the road to Thebes: first across flat open country sprouting springtime flowers, then climbing steadily from the lower to the higher ranges of Cithaeron. Scouts rode in the van; seven separate warbands followed, each tailed by baggage and servants: pre­cisely the inept march formation Atreus forbade. The column wound its way across an upland plateau and entered a rocky defile walled by towering crags - the perfect place for an ambuscade. I peered anxiously at ledges and crannies and caves which overlooked the track, nipped from Diomedes' chariot and mounted my own, fastened helmet tight and hefted shield.

  Nothing happened. Not so much as a pebble bounced from the heights.

  We reached the head of the pass and saw Boeotia spread before us like a patched and chequered quilt. At the foot of Cithaeron's rolling spurs a silvery gleam marked Asopos' course. Far on the horizon, radiant in snowy splendour, soared the peaks of Helicon and Parnassos.

  The plain was void of life, the entire river valley stark and empty. Neither goats nor sheep nor cattle grazed the slopes, not a husbandman moved in fields of spring-green corn. A village nestled in foothills below, another humped thatched rooftops in the valley; never a smoke wisp spiralled from cooking fires or kilns. The grey stone huddle of Thebes daubed a smudge on the horizon.

  We waited, crammed in the cleft, while scouts scoured the plain, and then cautiously descended a steep and tortuous track. It took a long time. Carts jammed on bends, slithered helplessly over cliffs. A meandering column crossed the valley's floor and camped on Asopos' banks. Meanwhile foragers roved widely, burned villages and tried to fire cornfields - an un­successful exercise; the crops being green and damp would only smoulder. They slaughtered a handful of peasants who through age, infirmity or obstinacy had refused to shelter in Thebes: none would have fetched a barren goat from a drunken dealer in slaves.

  After posting pickets Tydeus called a council of war. We squatted on the ground outside the king's leather tent, the seven leaders and principal commanders. A wave of Adrastus' bony old hand gave Tydeus permission to speak. He said, 'We shall have to set a leaguer. Thebes is obviously adopting a defensive strategy.'

  A threatened citadel may choose one of two military alter­natives. It can bring the subject population, flocks and herds within the walls, close gates and await a siege. Against the disadvantages of township and lands being abandoned to des­truction is the fact that citadels are difficult to storm and seldom fall unless betrayed by treachery. Or, to preserve her property from depredation a city can give battle outside the walls, staking all on a quick, decisive result.

  Amphiaraus said, 'I suspect a trap. They may have forces concealed in woods to attack us while we are advancing.'

  'I've sent scouts across the river to search within sight of the walls,' Tydeus replied. 'They've found neither hide nor hair.'

  'A siege might take all summer, and we haven't enough provisions,' said Arcadian Parthenopaeus: a hairy, hot-eyed, heavy man, thick red beard fanning over his cuirass. He suffered from some nervous affliction, eyelids, lips and hands everlastingly twitching. 'Let's march at dawn and storm the gates.'

  Tydeus gave him a frosty look. 'Thebes has seven gates, and we don't even know where they are. No bull-headed nonsense, if you please. We'll reconnoitre first.'

  'I can show you,' Polyneices said brusquely. 'It's my city, and I know every stick and stone.'

  'My wish,' King Adrastus quavered, 'is that we first send heralds to Eteocles, demanding he resign his throne in favour of Polyneices.'

  Eye met eye in hopeless resignation. 'Ruddy waste of time,' Parthenopaeus muttered. But Adrastus nominally commanded the Host; and a king's wish is tantamount to a command. Tydeus sighed and climbed to his feet. 'I'll go myself.' He eyed a cloud-streaked sun dipping towards the mountains. 'Enough time to get there and back before dark. Ho, there! Harness my chariot! Diomedes, you'll come too.'

  The chariots forded Asopos and were lost amid trees and bushes that raddled the slant beyond. Near nightfall I heard from the farther bank a picket's raucous challenge. Chariots splashed from the ford; looking angry as a stormcloud, Tydeus strode wordlessly to Adrastus' tent. His son stooped over a fet­lock wound on his offside horse. I inquired how the deputation went.

  Diomedes straightened, patted the animal's neck. 'Apply a cold
water compress, and tie the skin-flap firmly,' he told his Companion. 'How did it go ? Badly. Those Thebans are touchy folk. Greeted us with oaths and arrows, ignoring the olive leaves tied to our spears as a sign of peace. After shouting back and forth they opened a gate and let us in. The citadel's packed; refugees and animals jam every street and court.'

  'Many warriors ?''

  Thick on the ramparts, and clustered behind the gates. Chariots tilted on poles, teams alongside ready and bitted. They're well prepared to counter anything we do. However. We went to the palace and saw Eteocles. My father put Adrastus' silly proposal. Eteocles was extremely rude.'

  'What's he like?'

  'A thin, gangling, pale-eyed creature. Loud-mouthed, brash, ill-mannered. Obviously hates his brother. Tydeus replied in kind, and the interview developed into a slanging-match. Creon intervened and told us to go while the going was good.'