Warriors in Bronze Read online

  'After all their casualties,' Amphiaraus moaned, 'I doubt our men will be persuaded to attack.'

  'Our victuals are near exhausted,' Adrastus quavered. 'We must march away or starve.'

  Polyneices flung out his arms. Then,' he exclaimed, 'I'll chal­lenge my brother to decide our claims by the test of single combat! That, my lords, will save you from endangering your shrinking bodies and craven souls!'

  Shaking with anger he strode away, his dramatic departure rather marred by tripping over a chariot pole. Adrastus said, 'I have a mind to clap him under arrest.'

  I said, 'Let the idiot go. He can't change anything. Whether Eteocles accepts or refuses, whether he or Polyneices wins the fight, we lose nothing and gain nothing. Thebes won't stake her destiny on the life of a single man.'

  The king gave Amphiaraus active command of the Host. After extending the barricades he withdrew the decimated warbands to our enclosure opposite the southern gate and left pickets of mounted scouts in the ring of forts. Obeying Adras­tus' behest he started preparations to raise the siege and depart. Amphiaraus followed my counsel and kept these activities hidden from enemy observation, sending baggage carts to leaguer beyond Asopos after dark.

  I could not understand the Thebans' inactivity, their failure to exploit the Argive defeat; and feared the slightest sign of retreat would encourage a sortie in force. A fighting with­drawal through Cithaeron's defiles was something I hated to contemplate. I tried to persuade Amphiaraus the Host should also withdraw by night but, abiding by warfare's rigid con­ventions, he stubbornly refused. It was only decent, he burbled, to stay and watch the duel; and take the road to Eleusis directly it was done. You might have thought he discussed a hunting expedition or arrangements for holiday games on the Field of War.

  Polyneices meanwhile sent heralds to his brother, and an­nounced to my astonishment that Eteocles accepted. Heroic codes tempt gentlemen to every kind of foolishness; and I suppose a public challenge could hardly be refused. (Pondering the matter afterwards I concluded that Creon induced Eteocles to risk his life: his nephew's death would leave the throne in the erstwhile Regent's grasp.) The brothers declared a truce for the duration of a contest to be fought on the plain between Argive camp and citadel. The gates would be opened and Theban spectators allowed outside the walls. Moreover, Poly- neices said proudly, he and his brother would fight in the ancient fashion, helmeted and naked, carrying only spears and shields.

  I disliked the entire programme. The sooner we went the better: why delay to watch a tussle which decided nothing at all? More important, I could not visualize Theban warriors massed outside the walls, gates open to disgorge more, standing passively inert while the enemy marched away. I pressed my views on Diomedes. Grief-stricken, pale and peaked, he ac­cepted my proposals with an air of numbed indifference.The war is over. What matter if we leave a day sooner or later?' 'Good. Then warn your warband - the palace Heroes - and be ready to march before daylight.'

  'I will.' Diomedes raised his head; the lethargy vanished and he said firmly, 'The king must also leave with his retainers.'

  I cursed to myself. You could never predict the wavering bent of old Adrastus' mind. 'Can you persuade him?'

  'Yes. For years he has depended on my father to make decisions. Lacking Tydeus' direction he's as pliable as clay.'

  I left Diomedes staring wretchedly into space, and found Amphiaraus leaning on a breastwork, glooming at the citadel's sullen walls and talking to his Heroes - including, unfortu­nately, Polyneices. Ignoring the Theban's lowering disapproval I urged the Host should decamp forthwith, and succinctly stated my reasons. So angry he was almost incoherent, Poly­neices blared, 'You haven't much confidence in Theban hon­our!'

  'None.'

  'We have my brother's word.'

  'Eteocles? Indeed. And if he falls in the fight?'-

  'His promise binds his people.'

  'When has a dead man's mandate bound the living? Have you Creon's assurance the truce will be observed?'

  'No - nor do I need it,' Polyneices raged. 'His House and mine are one: he would not dishonour the Theban royal blood.'

  The fool was beyond persuasion. Exasperated, I said to Amphiaraus, 'At least draw up the Host tomorrow in battle order before the duel begins. Then you'll be ready for treach­ery.'

  'Impossible,' Amphiaraus said glumly. 'We march directly the fight is finished; therefore we assemble in column of route.'

  The man was clearly driven by a death wish; his own dark prophecy lured him to his doom. Lest he should try to dissuade the irresolute Adrastus I forbore to mention that the king's warband and mine would quit the camp before sunrise.

  Our departure roused the Host - five hundred men can't steal silently from a crowded camp - and brought a bewildered Amphiaraus furiously protesting. I endured his rating in sil­ence, and gestured to the column's vanguard vanishing in the dark. 'The king leads. It is Adrastus' will.’

  Polyneices barred my chariot at the entrance. 'You renegade rat!' he roared. 'Treacherous deserter! One day I shall find you and slit your cowardly throat!'

  - 'An empty threat. You'll be dead before sundown.' I touched Talthybius' arm. 'Drive on.'

  Dawn was breaking when the column reached Asopos and collected its share of the transport sent there days before. 'Keep going,' I told Diomedes. 'Make all speed. Don't halt till you've passed Cithaeron. I shall join you at Eleusis.'

  Talthybius turned the horses, and together we retraced our

  tracks to the grassy knoll whence first I sighted Thebes.

  ** *

  The Argive fort traced a crook-sided square on the faraway plain. Formations filtered out, gathered in irregular clumps - Amphiaraus' vaunted column of route - and halted in front of the breastworks. The citadel gates swung open and emitted a crowd which strung the base of the walls. Sunrise sparkled spears - why should spectators assemble armed? There was a long wait. I imagined a murmur of voices carried on a wind which rustled the twigs of an oak tree shading my chariot. Tiny figures moved from the Argive side and the Theban and met on the ground between: presumably heralds concerting the duel's details.

  I turned and conned the country beyond Asopos' gleaming waters. Diomedes' column, small as a thread in the distance, mounted Cithaeron's foothills. When I looked again the heralds had retreated. Two specks emerged from opposite sides and merged in a blob like a fallen leaf.

  I was much too far away to discern particulars of the fight; a surviving Argive Hero described it to me later. In an untidy, clumsy scuffle neither Polyneices nor Eteocles displayed the dexterous skill at arms expected of a Hero. So determined was each to kill the other they charged and lunged and thrust with little regard for defence, using shields as battering rams rather than protection. Within moments of the start both brothers were badly hurt.

  Polyneices weakened first, gave ground and dropped to a knee behind his shield. Eteocles uttered a gasping shout, lev­elled spear and charged. His adversary in desperation hurled his spear. Although the heavy barb sheared open Eteocles' stomach, his momentum carried him on. He knocked Polyneices flat, kicked aside the shield and lifted his spear. He smashed his brother's breastbone, broke his spine and pinned him to the ground. Then, mortally wounded and pumping blood, he fell across the body.

  Creon regained Thebes.

  Nothing of this was visible to me beyond a sudden cessation of movement from the dancing specks I watched. Realizing the fight had finished one way or the other I waited in dread for what would happen next. Suspense did not last long. Chariots burst from the gates and pelted towards the unready Argive Host. Even at that distance I perceived the riders naked.

  Turn,' I told Talthybius. 'Use your whip and drive like the wind. The Scavengers run loose!'

  In a welter of foam we forded Asopos and bounced along the

  stony track that climbed to the pass and safety.

  * * *

  The remains of the Host waited at Eleusis. Adrastus sent sup­pliants to Theseus, sought his
permission to stay in Attic ter­ritory and requested he ensure no Theban forces trespassed across Cithaeron. (A fine come-down for Argos to beg Athenian protection!) Theseus, insufferably cocky, visited the camp at Eleusis and scarcely bothered to conceal his satisfaction at Adrastus' heavy defeat. On the king's entreaty, however, he sent a deputation to Creon asking release of the Argive leaders' corpses for burial by their comrades. The body of Amphiaraus, killed by the Scavengers, was never found; Tydeus, Parthenopaeus, Capaneus and Hippomedon were dis­interred from shallow graves and carried on carts to Eleusis.

  Survivors of the massacre trickled in. The Argives had fought a battle which hadn't lasted long, and the Scavengers pursued to the mouth of the mountain defile. Few spearmen escaped, baggage and followers were lost; only Heroes driving the fleetest horses eluded the sodomites' spears. Three-quarters of the Host that had marched so bravely from Argos was either dead or enslaved.

  King Adrastus, a broken man, stayed mourning in his tent. His Heroes, numbed by disaster, moved about their duties like men walking in their sleep. Diomedes brooded, and nursed a baffled fury. 'The villainous bastards broke the truce!' he gritted between his teeth. 'One day, by The Lady's grace, I'll take a seven-fold vengeance!'

  It seemed improbable; and anyone who trusted a Theban's word deserved everything he got.

  When the dribble of survivors ceased Adrastus struck camp and marched for the Isthmus. So, in miserable defeat, ended the war of the Seven against Thebes.

  * * *

  At Mycenae I reported events to Atreus, who had recently returned from campaigning. 'No more than I expected,' he observed. 'A badly organized operation, doomed from the start. Now Thebes is cockahoop; the victory has increased her-in­fluence and power. Argos won't recover for years. I wonder,' he murmured, 'whether we should try to take over; perhaps send Adrastus an embassy backed by the Host, demand he abdicate and unite the kingdoms under Mycenae's rule.'

  'You'd have to fight. Diomedes now is Leader of the Argive Host. Tydeus' death has envenomed him, changed him over­night from youth to man - a man determined, hard and bitter. Not the kind to passively submit.'

  'Diomedes? Oh, I remember - Tydeus' son. You think he'd resist?'

  'I do. A valiant warrior who'll soon be renowned. Besides, we should avoid entanglements until Thebes' intentions are clearer. Creon may decide to follow up his victory.'

  We were talking on a balcony of the royal apartments. Atreus rested hands on the marble balustrade and frowned at a party of nobles crossing the Great Court below. 'There goes that fellow Copreus, always in a huddle with men I loathe. Don't trust him an arrow-head's length. Invasion? Extremely doubtful. Creon isn't a fool; he knows Sparta, Pylos and Elis would come to our aid against a common enemy.'

  'We're going to need them. Whether Creon makes war or not the defeat of the Seven has tilted the balance of power, and some day, sire, you'll have to restore the level - a prospect I don't pretend to relish. The Thebans are first-class fighting men. I was lucky to escape.'

  'You?' Atreus turned his head and gave me a peculiar look. 'I wouldn't have let you go if I hadn't been certain you'd some­how save your skin. You're a born survivor, Agamemnon - a reason why I chose you to succeed me.'

  I disliked the sardonic inflexion in his tone, and changed the subject. 'I gather Sicyon and Pellene are now tributary to Mycenae?'

  'They are. An easy war. Thesprotus yielded Sicyon directly he saw my spears. Pellene proved more obstinate. I stormed the gate, imposed a harsh indemnity and enslaved her remaining Heroes. A warning to the rest when their turn comes.'

  Atreus left the balcony, entered an antechamber leading to his bedroom and reclined in an ivory chair. A squire brought cups, and wine in a flagon. 'Try this eight-year-old Cytheran - a change from the sour filth you've been drinking on campaign.' He rolled the golden goblet thoughtfully between his palms. 'You mentioned alliances. I agree - the certainty that he faced united kingdoms would certainly deter Creon. But where now­adays may we find reliable allies ? Neleus has died, and Nestor rules in Pylos. I don't yet know the bent of his foreign policy. Augeas of Elis' hand lies loosely on the sceptre: his son Phyleus in Dyme conspires with Thyestes' - an ugly spasm of hatred contorted his face - 'to oust him from the throne. Adrastus, from your account, is a broken reed, no longer capable of ruling. Anything might happen in Argos. Sparta remains, a powerful realm firmly in Tyndareus' grip.'

  He set down the cup on an alabaster table ornately carved with dolphins intertwined. A sun-shaft stabbed the window and haloed the ash-grey head, shadowed the troughs at temples and cheeks. 'We need a strong confederate to discourage the Theban threat. I want you to go to Sparta and offer King Tyndareus a formal alliance. Then I'll appoint you Marshal, and Menelaus will replace you as Master of the Ships.' He stroked the arms of his chair, his eyes remote. 'I'm getting old; it's time I shed a little of the load.'

  I said, 'I am honoured, sire.'

  That's all. Leave as soon as you can.' An upraised hand arrested my departure. 'Something else has happened while you've been away. I considered Hercules incapable of further folly - the fellow's in his dotage. I was mistaken. The madman took ships to Troy and raided Laomedon's horse herds. The king was inspecting his horses, virtually unescorted, and the murderous ruffian slew him, grabbed some mares and fled. I suppose Priam will succeed: you didn't like him, did you ? A disgraceful affair - but it can't affect Mycenae.'

  Atreus' political prognostications were seldom wrong; but there he made the biggest mistake of his life.

  Chapter 8

  sparta rules a realm called Laconia, a country of fertile plains divided by mountain ranges. There's a lot of room in Laconia: you can travel all day and see nobody except a shepherd watch­ing his flocks, or perhaps a solitary Hero guarding his cattle and horse herds. Natural barriers help to protect the kingdom against invasion: the sea on the south, and the mountain ranges to east and west. Only on the Arcadian border are natural de­fences lacking. Since Arcadia is incapable of mustering a Host, and Spartans are more competent than most in repelling casual marauders, never within man's memory has Sparta fought a regular war on Laconian soil.

  This immunity has set a stamp on Sparta. Unlike all other Achaean cities I have seen (except King Nestor's newly-built Pylos) she has no central citadel, walled and turreted, nor do fortifications girdle the town. In this aspect Sparta resembles Cretan cities; otherwise King Tyndareus' capital has not the smallest affinity with the crumbling decadent splendours of Malia or Knossos.

  Security from invasion has not rendered the race effete. Spartans are far from averse to comfort - their bath-rooms are both numerous and superbly appointed, the food, though plainly cooked, delicious - but they disdain superfluous luxur­ies. Seldom have I encountered men so devoted to physical exercises, to hunting, horses, sports and games. Lacking external enemies they fight among themselves, conducting small campaigns, city against city, of a formal, almost ritualistic character.

  King Tyndareus was around fifty years old and looked half his age: tall, spare, deep-chested, russet beard trimmed to an arrow-barb point. A ruddy, fresh complexion unlined except for wrinkles at the corners of clear grey eyes. He ruled Laconia firmly yet flexibly, allowing considerable latitude to the War­dens of widely-spaced cities but stamping ruthlessly on the least sign of opposition to his authority. Earlier misfortunes had taught him the arts of kingship. Descended from Poseidon through Perseus on his mother's side, he had succeeded his father on Sparta's throne only to be expelled by a palace revolt. Tyndareus found refuge in Aitolia, where he married Leda, a local chieftain's daughter, sired on her the famous Twins and two girls: Helen and Clytemnaistra. Then the Spartan usurper died in repelling a cattle raid; and a counter-revolution restored Tyndareus to Sparta's rule.

  This was the man, and this the kingdom, whose alliance Atreus sought.

  I had travelled in considerable state, as befitted an ambas­sador from magnificent Mycenae: twenty Heroes in my train, two hundred spears, a
multitude of followers and transport, and a wagon load of presents for the king. Tyndareus allotted my retinue an entire wing of his palace, and gave a sumptuous feast within a day of our arrival. There I greeted again Castor and Polydeuces, returned from the Colchis voyage, and asked them how they liked it.

  'Rather dull,' said breeder and trainer Castor. 'No decent thoroughbred horses anywhere we landed.'

  'Only some pretty rough types,' said Polydeuces. 'Put ashore at Bebrycos oh the outward passage. The chieftain, one Amy- cus, fancied himself as a boxer.'

  'Challenged any of our crew to fight him,' said Castor. 'Wouldn't let us water otherwise.'