Warriors in Bronze Page 29

  I said, 'My lords, I am King Atreus' eldest son and acknow­ledged heir, therefore I proclaim myself successor to his throne. I await your acclamation.'

  A taut silence. An old bald-headed Councillor quavered, 'Of course, of course. Always been understood. Atreus told us years ago. No question —'

  A Hero at the back lifted a hand and shouted, 'I salute you, Agamemnon!'

  'And I!'

  'And I!'

  All younger Heroes, I noted. Copreus shuffled closer. He said, 'You must know, my lord, another kinsman of Atreus opposes your entitlement. We have a right to hear the merits of his claim.'

  'Name him.'

  Copreus pretended surprise. 'Why, Thyestes, the dead king's brother, who travels from Elis to state his rights in Council.' He took a pace nearer the throne, his friends stepped forward behind him. Menelaus whispered, 'Strike when he comes within spear-reach.'

  'Why,' I blared, 'does Thyestes bring Elis' Host to back his claim? Is he afraid his infamy has already reached your ears?' I slammed spear butt hard on the floor. 'Listen well, my lords. This is the manner of man whom some of you want as king.'

  In short, searing sentences I repeated Pelopia's dying con­fession : Thyestes' murder of Atreus, his daughter's rape, his fathering of Aegisthus. Horrified murmurings rustled the audi­ence. Even Copreus looked taken aback, possibly aware how Atreus died but ignorant of the incest.

  'Does such unspeakable vileness,' I shouted, 'commend in your eyes the monster who seeks Mycenae's crown?'

  'No!' bellowed the three young men who previously ac­claimed me. 'A disgusting story,' muttered the aged Councillor.

  Voices babbled discordantly. I yelled above the turmoil.

  'Who pronounces Agamemnon king?'

  Six or seven bawled assent. 'Not enough,' Menelaus mur­mured. 'Brother, you've lost the toss. Keep your eyes on the sods - they're getting close.'

  Copreus spoke sharply over his shoulder. Cloaks parted and the swords came out.

  I lunged on the instant. The point tore Copreus' throat; Menelaus' spear spitted another between the eyes, blood gouted from his nostrils. Baying like wolves the pack surged round. Too close for our ten-foot chariot spears. I dropped the shaft, banged shield in a bellowing face and whipped out sword. Those Councillors not of the faction retreated against the walls and watched the fight in horrified dismay. One of my young supporters bravely drew his dagger and leaped on our assail­ants : a backward swipe cut him down. The blow laid open his killer's guard. I sliced his neck where it joined the shoulder, the sword edge grated on bone. The clashing and the shouting hammered the painted ceiling.

  Back to back we hewed to the entrance and slew two more as we went. A sentry barred the doorway, I severed his arm at the elbow. We trotted across the Court - you can't run fast in battle armour - charged a spearman guarding the palace portal and slithered down the steps. Chariots stood on the road.

  'You've stirred a hornets' nest by the sound of it, my lord,' Talthybius said. 'Mount quick - we must pass the gates before somebody gives the alarm.'

  I loosened my helmet's cheekguards and wiped a sweaty face. Mycenae's towering citadel receded in the distance; a shaft of wintry sunlight washed the walls pale gold.'Golden Mycenae,' I muttered, 'my city, my kingdom, my inheritance by right. I swear I shall return - on The Lady's Womb I swear it.'

  Talthybius whipped his horses. The chariot rocked at a gallop on the road to Sparta and safety.

  Chapter 9

  in Argos Diomedes informed me that King Adrastus, bedridden and ailing, had appointed him Regent. Although he had been told Atreus was dead he knew nothing of the way he died or the palace intrigues and revolution which made me run for my life. I explained our predicament and surmised that Thyestes already possessed Mycenae, while an Elian Host was encamped around the citadel. Moreover Thyestes would probably send armed parties to pursue and capture Atreus' surviving re­lations.

  'You're my guests,' said Diomedes shortly. 'I'll let nobody intrude on Argive hospitality.'

  The years and hard experience had toughened Diomedes, seasoned blunt-jawed, snub-nosed features to the texture of supple leather, broadened the thickset frame and stamped on his bearing a brusque authority. He was very much in com­mand of affairs in Argos. I noticed unfamiliar faces among the palace Heroes: youths newly awarded greaves and estates, replacements for nobles slain in the Theban War, all fanatic­ally loyal to the son of dead Tydeus. Adrastus almost alone remained from the old regime: a sick old man incapable of ruling.

  Argos was not completely recovered from the appalling casualties inflicted in the war. Dorians and Goatmen, detecting the kingdom's weakness and confusion, harried across the Arcadian border in growing strength. They had recently burned a settlement, massacred the inhabitants and carried off stock. (The first instance, but not the last, of the Goatmen's attacks on fortified towns. Five years later they descended on Mycenae.) What with these misfortunes and internal preoccu­pations I thought Diomedes would find difficulty in refusing Thyestes' demand to surrender Menelaus and myself. If it came to the crunch Argos could not oppose a Mycenaean Host sup­ported by Phyleus' Elians. I refrained from mentioning to Diomedes this cogent reason for cutting short our stay: it would offend his pride, stiffen his obduracy and bring disaster on his head.

  Therefore I thanked my friend for his invitation but insisted we press on to Sparta where Tyndareus had promised a haven in time of trouble. The advent of two travel-worn Heroes accompanied by no more than a Companion and squire apiece and an exiguous train provided an unhappy contrast to my previous arrival in ambassadorial splendour. A rumour, but no details, of Mycenae's dynastic upheaval had filtered to King Tyndareus' ears. He gave us a hearty welcome and, after we had bathed, changed clothes and eaten, listened interestedly to my description of the events which had sent us helter-skelter into Laconia. I told him the whole tale, concealing nothing however discreditable to the House whose name I bore.

  Tyndareus clicked his tongue. 'What a revolting story! I must say,' he murmured reflectively, 'Atreus and Thyestes between them have committed almost every crime under the sky. Atreus killed his son and wife, married his niece, fed a nephew to the father. Thyestes seduced his brother's wife, raped his own daughter and sired on her a child. The sons of Pelops certainly know how to sin!'

  I said stiffly, 'I can't deny our blood seems tainted; but the blight has not afflicted - yet - the second generation. However, if you feel our kinsmen's wickedness contaminates Menelaus and me, We shall instantly remove ourselves.'

  Tyndareus laughed. 'Don't be pompous, Agamemnon. I was merely expressing a wondering admiration. Few of our pedi­grees bear close inspection: our ancestors by all accounts lived abominable lives. Oedipus, for instance, married his mother - and he's distantly related to my wife. So who am I to shoot an arrow? No, you're very welcome here - stay as long as you like. I'll tell you this: I consider Thyestes a usurper and will help you all I can to throw him out.'The king allotted us spacious quarters in the palace and added to our inadequate retinue, providing' squires, slaves and concubines, horses, chariots, clothing and other accoutrements befitting Heroes. For Menelaus and I were destitute, owning nothing but the armour we wore when fleeing Mycenae: a condition we remained in throughout our exile, entirely de­pendent on Tyndareus' generosity. Our demesnes were lost to Thyestes; without land to support his station a Hero is nothing, has nothing, can exist on nothing save charity.

  Which, in the days that followed, made all the more remark­able the trickle of Heroes and Companions who followed us to Sparta from Mycenae, sacrificing everything in constancy to Atreus' banished heir. Thyestes also exiled certain lords sus­pected of disloyalty; these embittered men became the most devoted to my cause. From Mycenae and her tributary cities thirty-three arrived eventually in Sparta to live on the king's munificence, and formed in time the core of the force that won me back my throne.

  I own to missing various humbler members of my household abandoned in Mycenae: a squire or
two who had learned my ways, some faithful slaves. I did not regret the concubines - the sword is what's important, not the scabbard. Most of all I regretted Gelon's absence - a friend I had come to depend on for more than his clerkly abilities. He would willingly have followed me to Sparta; but Scribes are bound by the tenets of their sect to be strictly apolitical: they are fettered to their work, and not their lords. In Mycenae he continued to account and administer the lands I had lately held, demesnes now passed to Thyestes' greedy hands, and served him dutifully as he had served me.

  Unbothered by a Marshal's constant duties, by palace plots and traitors, I settled into the routine of a gentleman of leisure. With Menelaus I hunted, contested in games, drove in chariot races, watched sporadic Spartan inter-city battles, feasted in the Hall and enjoyed the willing concubines Tyndareus bestowed, particularly an intricately expert courtesan from Samos. (I discovered very early she was planted in my household by Tyndareus as a spy, an ordinary precaution any wary ruler takes. Once that was understood we did famously together.) But, while the moons passed by, I found time hanging heavy on my hands. It was years since responsibility of one kind or another had not crammed work in my days from dawn till dusk.

  Idleness bred mischief. Clytemnaistra still awaited her in­tended bridegroom Broteas of Pisa. Possibly because she was confident her betrothal guaranteed security she treated less aloofly my circumspect advances. Frequently I joined her when she walked abroad, taking the air on the city's outskirts or examining the wares in craftsmen's workshops. With her ladies always in attendance any advances I made were necessarily restrained; ribaldries had to be stealthy and insinuations veiled. These canopied conversations secretly amused her, as 1 could tell from the glint in slanting eyes, red lips parting on teeth like small white pearls. She was fully aware her body excited my lust, enjoyed my frustration and cunningly tantalized my ardour. When a nip in the air caused her ladies to shawl their bosoms she deliberately left her magnificent breasts uncovered. I was accustomed since babyhood to women's naked breasts; and it was a measure of Clytemnaistra's potent sexuality that hers could stir my loins.

  Because I had nothing much to do she gradually became an obsession, the pursuit excelling hunting and every other amuse­ment. I ascertained her daily routine, accompanied her when walking, sat beside her at races and games and drove her chariot to hunts. (Spartan ladies attended meets but, unlike some athletic Mycenaean females, never followed hounds.) Only in a chariot could we speak unheard by others; and at last, when driving to a lion hunt, desire overcame me and I declared my passion.

  Clytemnaistra said coolly, 'I don't understand your propo­sals, my lord. You cannot offer wedlock, because I'm promised to Broteas. Am I to believe you wish to bed me?'

  'If I could marry you I would,' I declared fervently. 'Allow me at least the touch of your lips. I beg you, Clytemnaistra!'

  'And the touch of other things besides, no doubt. Such as ...' Wilfully she cradled her breasts, a finger stroked a nipple.

  I almost fell from the chariot. 'You goad me beyond en­durance ! I want you, my lady, more than anything on earth! Revoke this unworthy marriage. I can give you —'

  'Give me what? Attend to your horses, my lord; they're on the point of bolting. You have nothing to give - a landless Hero banished from his city. Why should I not prefer a man who is lord of his realm?'

  'Lord of Pisa,' I snapped. 'No better than a village, and tributary to Elis. You cast yourself on a dunghill.'

  'Indeed? Can you promise me anything better?'

  'One day’ I said earnestly, 'I shall recover Mycenae, kill Thyestes, rule Achaea's wealthiest kingdom, extend her power and dominance. I promise you that, and ask you to share my throne.'

  'An empty pledge, my lord. Your hands hold nothing but air. And you've forgotten something.'

  'What?'

  'I love Broteas, and shall be happy to share his midden.'

  In a fury I whipped up the horses, and arrived at the meet at a breakneck gallop. After consigning my voluptuous com­panion to a squire's care I climbed a steep and rugged hillside behind hounds, outstripped Castor and Polydeuces and killed alone a snarling lion held at bay.

  Every thrust of the spear was aimed at a sultry, sensuous face.

  * * *

  Travellers from Mycenae told that Phyleus and his warriors, having seen the usurper crowned, had returned long since to Elis. Thyestes had taken control. All tributary Wardens ac­cepted him without demur except Bunus Lord of Corinth, who closed the gates and declared the city independent. Thyestes mustered a Host; after a perfunctory siege the garrison rebelled against the Warden and surrendered. Thyestes castrated Bunus, plunged red-hot rods in his eyes and roasted him slowly to death on a spit.

  While such episodes made me angry they were of no con­sequence to Tyndareus, until a result of the change in My­cenae's rule transformed indifference into fury. A cursory mes­sage announced abrogation of the compact for shipping wheat. Tyndareus was so furious he almost went to war; only further information carried by mariners making harbour in Spartan ports restrained him from assembling the Host. Thyestes, it appeared, acted under duress; the Hellespont was firmly barred to Mycenaean ships; corn from Krymeia ceased to flow.

  Barely a year had elapsed since the earthquake levelled Troy. The people worked like slaves to rebuild the fallen stones, a new city rose on the ruins: a smaller, shrunken city, houses built with hastily gathered materials and crowded in dense rows where once broad streets had run. Yet Priam felt strong or spiteful enough to proclaim the Hellespont closed: a decree the Trojan fleet enforced. Mycenaean master mariners, still bound by Atreus' edict, made no attempt to fight through the straits and slunk tail between legs to Nauplia. Priam likewise expelled our ships from the inner harbour.

  Thyestes despatched an embassy, which returned with a sharp rebuff. He then ordered Periphetes to sail his squadron to the Hellespont, force a passage and sink any Trojan galleys which opposed him. Periphetes took all twelve triaconters and fought an encounter battle in narrow, reef-fanged waters. Out­numbered three to one he escaped by the skin of his teeth with half his warships sunk. Thyestes in retaliation imposed a loose blockade on Trojan seaborne trade. The effort absorbed a large part of Mycenae's mercantile marine; most Trojan ships escaped the net; and Priam's merchantmen voyaged unhind­ered to Colchis and Krymeia and harvested the wealth they denied Mycenae.

  This was the start of the Trojan War: nine years' intermit­tent tussles at sea, ship-borne raids on the Trojan seaboard, and a year's campaign on the wind-raked plain of Troy.

  Tyndareus ordained a rationing scheme for Spartan corn supplies: an example soon to be followed by Thyestes in Mycenae, Argive Diomedes and Nestor in Pylos. While the shortage was not yet acute an adverse season, flooding or drought, could engender serious famine; wise rulers accumu­lated reserves in city granaries. Meanwhile Tyndareus, assum­ing the Krymeian supplies permanently lost, debated means of persuading Thebes to relax her grip on Orchemenos' cornlands. He asked me whether Creon might be persuaded to negotiate a trade agreement like to the one Thyestes had revoked. I replied it was unlikely.

  Thebes sells the corn she controls to her neighbouring realms and makes a healthy profit. She has no economic neces­sity to trade elsewhere - and is inveterately hostile to all Achaean kingdoms south of the Isthmus. Only force will compel a change in policy.'

  'So. We therefore return to the question of war against Thebes. You saw the campaign of the Seven. Assuming we don't repeat Adrastus' tactical mistakes, what in your view are the chances?'

  I said carefully, 'No single power can conquer Thebes. The city is impregnable, she can call on allies close at hand, on abundant supplies, and on a formidable Host equal in fighting quality to any in Achaea. You'd need an expedition embodied from several kingdoms.'

  Tyndareus pensively pulled his ear, dislodged an earring and swore. 'Damn these trinkets! I've been feeling my way towards precisely such an alliance - not very successfully so far. Of the citi
es at enmity with Thebes only Pylos and Argos have shown any interest.'

  'Neither at the moment will support a Theban campaign. Pylos and Elis conduct a running border war, raid and counter- raid. Argos isn't ready for hostilities; though Diomedes' ener­gies may change the situation there in a year or two.'

  'Which, if you're right - and I think you are - leaves Sparta and Mycenae. Will Thyestes be persuaded to march on Thebes?'

  'Who can plumb his murky mind? I shall be sorry, sire, to see you allied to my most malignant enemy.'

  Tyndareus merely grunted. With that realism transcending sentiment which marks all successful rulers he sent an embassy led by Castor and Polydeuces to Mycenae, carrying his pro­posals for a joint campaign in Boeotia. The Twins brought back a brusque refusal. Thyestes considered Thebes too strong, and maintained that a sea war aimed at re-opening the Hellespont afforded better chances of restoring corn supplies.

  "Not his real reasons,' said Castor.

  'A shifty rascal,' Polydeuces said.

  'He's heading for trouble.'