Warriors in Bronze Read online

  'Creon? That's the uncle?'

  "Yes. A short deep-chested greybeard who hardly said a word. Watchful and dangerous. Clearly the brains and driving force behind Eteocles and Thebes.'

  Diomedes sucked his wrist, and showed me a nasty gash. 'Got this on the way back. The treacherous bastards laid an ambush in the dusk - twenty or thirty men. We had to gallop and cut a way through. I killed one; Tydeus accounted for a couple more. Serves them right.'

  'Typical Theban perfidy. What, then, is your father's plan?'

  'I don't know. He's in a vile rage, swearing like a spearman.'

  Adrastus and his Leader conferred far into the night. Lying cloak-wrapped on the ground among my men, cuirass for a pillow, Talthybius beside me, I watched the yellow lamplight slash the king's half-open tent flap, heard voices rise and fall, Adrastus' querulous tones and Tydeus' rasping growl. A moon like a silver galley sailed the night-sky's purple vault. The camp was a restless sea that heaved in murmurous darkness, starred by crackling fires, stroked by a many-voiced wind: men talk- ingra sentry's distant challenge, horses stamping and neighing, music from flutes and reed-pipes beguiling the warriors' rest.

  I bade Talthybius good night, and dropped into dreamless sleep.

  * * *

  Tydeus called a war council at daybreak and disclosed his tactics. Firstly a reconnaissance in force to examine the citadel's environs and establish the gates' locations. That done, he would post a warband before each gate to impose a strict blockade. The plan, he stated - Adrastus wagged an assenting head - would starve the enemy out and at the same time compel him to disperse his troops at seven different points, thereby dim­inishing the possibility of his mounting a sally in strength.

  I listened in growing horror. Tydeus invited comments. Apart from a minor bicker - Polyneices insisted his warband deserved the honour of facing the principal gate - nobody dis­agreed. I clambered to my feet, leaned on my spear and said forcibly, 'You invite defeat in detail. The Thebans hold the advantage of interior lines. They can shift their reserves speed­ily to any gate they choose, and swiftly reinforce a promising sortie. I believe we should concentrate four warbands before the weakest gate. Divide another into pickets to watch all other gates, each supplied with mounted scouts to bring us warning of a break-out. Two warbands in mobile reserve, ready to meet counter-attacks or exploit success. Your scheme, my lord Tydeus, envisages no reserve. If the leaguer doesn't compel surrender and we're forced to assault, you have the main body already concentrated at the weakest point, and the pickets can support it by feint attacks.'

  'I am told,' Parthenopaeus sneered, 'you've won naval victor­ies, my lord Agamemnon, but your experience of battles on land is limited to a single notorious defeat. On what grounds, therefore, do you presume to advise us?'

  'Better grounds by far,' I barked, 'than a Hero whose know­ledge of war is confined to cattle-raiding!'

  'Calm yourselves, gentlemen.' Adrastus scratched a wrinkled cheek. 'What do you think, Tydeus?'

  'I don't like it,' Tydeus muttered.

  'Nonsensical,' Polyneices snapped. 'Leaves Eteocles the initia­tive.'

  'Let us settle the argument,' Adrastus said. 'Who favours the tactics I and Tydeus conceived after long debate?'

  Six spears were raised. The king blinked at me kindly. 'There you are, Agamemnon. I fear opinion goes against you.' He climbed shakily from his wooden stool. 'Now, my lord Tydeus, whose warband will you send to reconnoitre?'

  * * *

  I attached my seven chariots to the thirty from Tydeus' war-band. (Having decided on a swift-moving mounted reconnais­sance we took no spearmen.) We forded the river, and from a grass-covered ridge I had my first close view of Thebes.

  A formidable citadel crowned an ochre rock-strewn knoll; towers studded a circuit of dark grey walls. Sunlight sparkled spearheads on the ramparts; the palace's whitewashed build­ings gleamed like sails on the summit. The township's swathe of deserted houses curved outside the walls, and isolated dwel­lings speckled the whole circumference.

  Tydeus bunched the chariots within eyeshot of the battle­ments. Defiant bellows floated on the breeze; arrows whirred and spurted dusty fountains. We drove at a canter round Thebes, skirting the town and avoiding buildings lest bowmen lurked in ambush. The citadel had four main gates (three too many, in my opinion; Mycenae has but one; the unattainable ideal none at all) and three small posterns or sally ports. So much for seven-gated Thebes.

  Tydeus completed the circuit, signalled a turnabout and led at a trot in the reverse direction. He slowed to a walk before the four gates and searched them for weaknesses. To me they looked equally strong, all guarded by towers and curtain walls. He chopped a hand in the river's direction and led us back to the camp.

  'A supine lot, the Thebans,' he told Adrastus. 'We trailed our cloaks in view of the walls and nobody tried to punish our impertinence. We'll be able to invest the citadel unhindered.'

  The Seven gathered in council; Tydeus' swordpoint traced in the earth an outline plan of the city and marked the entrances. At noon the Host crossed Asopos and, when towers broke the skyline, warbands diverged to stations opposite the gates. Tydeus' force, which included mine, halted in close formation four hundred paces short of a main gate facing south. He advanced a screen of chariots while everyone else - spearmen, drovers and slaves - hastily collected boulders and constructed a four-foot breastwork to ring the entire detachment, leaving a single entrance wide enough for chariots. Two bowshots away on the left, Polyneices' band built a similar enclosure, and Amphiaraus' on the right. The remainder, beyond our sight around the walls, likewise fortified their positions according to Tydeus' orders.

  A dangerous interlude: with everyone save charioteers en­gaged on fortifications, and defences uncompleted, we were vulnerable should the Thebans emerge in strength.

  By late afternoon the Argive Host ringed Thebes like dis­connected felloes of a vast irregular wheel.

  Tydeus withdrew his chariots within the perimeter. There was not much room to spare inside a fieldwork seventy paces square. Chariots ranked hub to hub, horses were yoked and fettered by reins knotted to chariot rails. Slaves lighted fires, hooked cauldrons under tripods, slaughtered goats and pre­pared a meal. My squire Eurymedon untied a wineskin's mouth and brought me a brimming elmwood cup. I propped myself against a wheel (you can't do much relaxing in triple-skirted mail), sipped and sniffed the cooking smells, felt ravenously hungry. A dog howled desolately from the abandoned town, my Molossian boarhound pricked his ears and bayed. I patted his head and soothed him. Rooks flapped slowly to roost across a sky tinged sunset gold; long black shadows flowed from the skirts of trees.

  At dawn the entire warband moved out, and spearmen guarded by chariots fired the deserted town. Flames lashed smoke clouds high in the sky and swept an acrid curtain across Thebes' adamant walls. The burning had a tactical use: the houses had half concealed the gate and screened a possible sortie. Now, across smouldering ruins, we could watch every stone of the ramparts.

  The Argives withdrew to the forts and waited for Thebes to surrender.

  * * *

  Besieging a citadel, I found, can be a tedious occupation. Be­yond manning the towers from dawn till dusk and shouting abuse from the walls, the garrison made no move. Bored Heroes ended their confinement in the breastworks. Leaving spearmen on guard we drove abroad, held chariot races, hunted - provided, on Tydeus' insistence, we stayed within sight of the forts. Gentlemen made themselves shelters outside the boulder-built barriers and started little households of their own.Water was a problem. The wells of the burnt-out town were in arrow range of the citadel; and a sudden sally annihilated a night-time watering party. So waterskin-laden carts trundled to Asopos; the round trip took all day.

  Despite the close investment it was impossible to prevent communication between the garrison and its allies in Boeotia. Messengers and agents repeatedly penetrated the siege lines after dark. Capaneus' warband on the citadel's northern side inte
rcepted a supply train which tried to enter by night. The scuffle roused everyone from sleep; trumpets sang alarm in Thebes and the garrison clattered to battle stations.

  Tydeus divided the captured provisions among the Host, for victuals were running low. "

  After forty days the shortage of supplies became acute. Tied to a ring of forts in the midst of a hostile land our foragers dared not roam too far afield. Meat vanished from our meals, bread was rationed, wine became a luxury. Tydeus prodded the king to calling a council of war. An argumentative session decided the Host must either attack forthwith or raise the siege and acknowledge defeat.

  'Monotony must have lulled the Thebans,' Parthenopaeus supposed. 'An unexpected storming will catch them half asleep.'

  'You can't mount an escalade without disclosing your in­tentions,' Tydeus said. 'They'll see our preparations, see us advancing, and man the walls before we're halfway there.'

  'Do it by night,' I said.

  A flinty silence greeted my suggestion. Parthenopaeus curled his lip. 'On the pattern of Midea ? We've all heard about that. Atreus took by treachery a citadel unwarned. Thebes is ready and waiting.'

  Tydeus said conclusively, 'Nobody fights in darkness. With your permission, sire, the warbands will mount a simultaneous attack in two days' time.'

  'I never thought Thebes would prove so stubborn,' the king bleated. 'Yes -1 have to agree. No alternative remains.'

  They thrashed out details: construction of scaling ladders assault formations, camp guards, and a starting time when the rising sun tipped Cithaeron's highest peak. The interval was passed in making ladders, grinding swords and spears to hair­line keenness, and in considerable trepidation. Few Heroes in the Host had experienced an escalade against a well-defended citadel; and the precedents were not encouraging. They viewed the twenty-foot walls, calculated chances and pulled long faces. As Diomedes observed, the top of a rickety ladder was not a place where a man felt at his best.

  When the sun shot long gold streamers from the summit of Mount Cithaeron Tydeus' warband left the fort and marched towards the gate. Ladders swayed at the heads of six columns led by Heroes. We had discarded body-armour save cuirasses - you can't climb ladders in brazen skirts - and swords replaced long chariot-fighting spears. I tramped at the head of the Tiryns contingent reinforced by Argive warriors; on my left Dio­medes' party advanced, Tydeus' men on the right. The target of all three columns was the wall on the left of the gate. Three more parties advanced to the right-hand ramparts. Spearmen in a body marched behind, ready to rush the entrance when the stormers opened the gates; and a leash of Cretan bowmen shot arrows at the defenders.

  A dozen chariots - this on my insistence - ranked in front of the camp to deal with unexpected sallies or, if the attack went awry, to cover our retreat. Adrastus commanded these: he was not of an age to scurry up ladders.

  We crossed the ruined town, ash and cinders crunching underfoot, greaves rapping blackened beams, kicking up grey powdery dust that stung the eyes. Enemy thronged the ramp­arts, brandished weapons and howled. Arrows whirred and thudded, slingstones whistled and thumped. I lowered my head and fronted a waisted shield, clenched jaws and plodded on. A bubbling cry behind, armour clanging on rock, a knell for a fallen Hero. Precipitous boulder-strewn slopes, and throwing spears falling like rain. I slanted the shield to cover my head. A spearhead pierced the hide and slashed my arm. I reached sword-hand round the waist and wrenched the shaft away, climbed the last of the slope in a crouching trot and arrived at huge grey slabs that based the Theban wall.

  Three Heroes rushed forward a ladder and planted it against the wall. The tip just reached the parapet where enemy faces bellowed. I started to climb. It was damnably awkward. To free my hands I put sword between teeth and slung shield aback by the carrying strap. Helmet and armoured shoulders took the brunt of the missile storm. The ladder rocked alarmingly; defenders using poles tried to buffet it away. A slingstone struck my cheekguard, stars danced before my eyes. A Hero climbing beneath me hit my calf and swore. 'Get on! Get on!' I clutched the rungs in slippery palms and struggled up.

  A frenzied bearded face at the topmost rung, a spear with­drawn for the lunge. I ducked and it missed. Arms outstretched I jumped from the ladder, sprawled on the slabs of a parapet five feet wide. A sword-edge rang my cuirass. I knelt and fronted shield and battled for my life.

  Heroes mounted and stood beside me. Weapons clashed and battered, shouting dinned the eardrums. We won the width of the parapet, dropped to the rampart walk and went on fighting. Lunge, shield right and parry, withdraw, shield front and cut. A sword-thrust scraping forearm, a cleft skull spouting brains.

  We cleared a space and stood in a bunch, shields fronted facing outwards, backed against the parapet. The Thebans retreated on either side and girded themselves for a charge. Blood slipperied the narrow walk, feet stumbled over bodies. I looked to my left. No sign yet of Diomedes' stormers. On the right a raging fight at the head of Tydeus' ladder. A gate tower blocked from view the farther escaladers.

  The Thebans charged, and again we fought, and again we beat them back. I nursed a bleeding hand and counted the cost. Of twelve who had gained the ramparts eight were left. Could we cut a way to Tydeus' men and together reach the gate ?

  I scanned the fighting where his column's ladder mounted. Tydeus straddled the parapet, swung his sword. A javelin spiked his belly below the cuirass rim. Tydeus dropped his blade, the black beard pointed skywards and he toppled from the wall.

  Enough. Whatever happened elsewhere the assault on this gate had failed. I shouted commands. One by one we descended the ladder, an ever-diminishing shield wall warding off assail­ants. I went last, hastened by a wild-eyed Theban hammering an axe on my shield. I chested the parapet edge, scrambled with my legs to find the rungs. The Theban followed, lifted the axe.

  Spreadeagled like a landed fish I closed my eyes and awaited death. An arrow whanged. He dropped the axe and clutched a shaft protruding from his throat. My foot found the rung and I went down fast, skinning both hands to the bone. Arrows, stones and throwing spears whistled about my head. I stumbled down the slope and scuttled with my Heroes to the slender line of chariots.

  I paused on the way to recover my breath and congratulate our bowmen. Were it not for Cretan marksmanship I wouldn't be telling this story.

  I looked for Adrastus, but the king had gone. Collapsing beside a chariot I surveyed the wrack of defeat. Embers of a battle flickered on the ramparts right of the gateway. All the ladders there had fallen; any Argives on the parapet were bound to be killed. Further away Amphiaraus' stormers streamed back across the plain; Polyneices' warband was also retreating.

  Just the moment for an enemy counter-attack. Safer within the fort. Wearily I gripped a wheel spoke and hauled myself up.

  Diomedes staggered from the dust and flopped at my feet. Blood smeared his face, he held the hilt of a broken sword. 'You didn't support us,' I croaked. 'Your Heroes left us fighting alone on the wall.'

  Diomedes said exhaustedly, 'We hadn't a chance. I reached the top and fought on the ladder. They thrust it away. The fall knocked me out. I think my party tried again but...' He dropped the useless sword. 'Why is it, Agamemnon,' Diomedes said despairingly, 'that when their leader falls Heroes lose heart so easily?'

  'Our Heroes had better not, because —' I stopped, and bit my lip.

  Diomedes started to rise. 'I must find Tydeus and report our failure. Have you seen my father?'

  I put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him down. 'I'm sorry, Diomedes. I saw Tydeus die.'

  He raised a stricken face, buried head in hands and sobbed. Warriors hurried past, spearmen, Heroes, bowmen, wounded carried on shields. The chariot beside me rocked on its wheels. The occupant said, 'Mind yourselves, my lords. I'm retiring behind the breastworks. Not too healthy here, by the looks of things.' His Companion cracked a whip, the vehicle crunched away.

  I lifted Diomedes to his feet. 'Come, my friend. Tydeus, though the n
oblest, is but one of a host of dead. We'll lament a hundred Heroes before the day is done.'

  Borne on a stream of defeated warriors I supported him into the fort.

  * * *

  Every warband had been repulsed, and the losses were heavy. Besides Tydeus, the Argives Capaneus and Hippomedon and Arcadian Parthenopaeus were dead. The Arcadians, deaf to Adrastus' appeals, loaded baggage and departed.

  Three of the Seven remained. Amphiaraus mournfully re­minded us his prophecy was coming true.

  Adrastus called a council. The reverse, and Tydeus' death, had totally unnerved the king: he shook all over and stuttered so badly one couldn't sort out what he said. We gathered that he proposed to abandon the campaign. Argive Heroes who re­placed the fallen leaders dejectedly concurred.

  Polyneices violently protested. Seeing his bid for the Theban throne drowning in a quagmire of despondency he exhorted the king to try again, this time concentrating the Host on a single gate. (Which, I reflected sadly, had been my advice at the start.) A mulish expression settled on Adrastus' shrivelled features. Diomedes said, 'Agamemnon's attack alone won a footing on the wall. Why should a second attempt fare better?'