King in Splendour

by George Shipway

  ‘No, no, sire,’ the Spy disclaimed. ‘I’ve no grounds whatsoever for such suspicions.’

  ‘Then what are you implying?’

  Thoughtfully he stroked his paunch. ‘During the summer, sire, when you were away on campaign, an Elian visited Mycenae, a Hero of King Phyleus’ court. Queen Clytemnaistra talked with him from noonday until night.’ He paused. ‘I think you have no friends in Elis.’

  ‘None.’ I tugged a golden earring, lost in thought. What possible conspiracy could the damned bitch hatch in Elis, whose power compared to mine was a sapling beside an oak? Probably, I reflected sardonically, the Elian Hero’s qualities excited my wife’s desires, an ardour I had sadly failed to arouse. ‘Have you any idea what they said?’

  ‘At the time,’ the Spy said regretfully, ‘I had no orders to observe the queen.’

  ‘You have them now, and they extend to cover her activities both within and outside Mycenae. You can find the necessary spies?’

  ‘Certainly, sire.’

  ‘There’s another thing. I’ve engaged an Ithacan Hero to conduct certain clandestine negotiations on my behalf. His name is Odysseus, and he’s presently in Dyme or Erineos. I think he can be trusted--but I want him watched.’ I outlined briefly Odysseus’ mission. ‘Have you agents in those cities?’

  ‘Not at the moment, sire, but it can speedily be arranged.’

  ‘Good. Tell the Procurator to send you ten oxen from my herds. No doubt you’ll find a use for the hides.’

  The portly Spy departed beaming.

  * * *

  Around this time a curious deputation arrived from King Priam of Troy and desired my intercession with Telamon of Salamis.

  This plaint had a lengthy history. When Hercules landed on the Trojan coast and raided the royal horse herds he slew King Laomedon, Priam’s father, kidnapped his daughter Hesione and gave the girl to Telamon, a companion in the raid. Telamon took her to Salamis where she bore him a son named Teucer. (Teucer. later commanded my bowmen at Troy.) Priam repeatedly sent delegates demanding his sister’s return; Telamon consistently refused. This embassy, the last of many, received the same reply; and in desperation they came to Mycenae hoping they could persuade me to bring pressure to bear on Telamon.

  Priam’s envoys were two ageing Heroes: Antenor, a Trojan elder, and Anchises, father of Aeneas. (Anchises still had his sight; lightning blinded him two years after.) Wearing a golden gem-studded crown, crimson gold-embroidered cloak, eagle-headed ivory sceptre resting on my knee I received them in state in the Hall. Torches illumined the walls’ bright frescoes, spangled the ceiling’s brilliant colours. Heroes in brazen armour flanked my throne, yellow and scarlet horsehair plumes flared from boars’-tusk helmets.

  An embassy from Troy was worth impressing.

  Antenor related in tiresome detail the well-worn story of Hesione’s rape, reiterated her captor’s persistent refusal to give her back and besought my kindly offices to change his mind.

  I said, ‘What makes you think I can influence Telamon? I don’t hold Salamis in tribute.’

  ‘In Troy,’ Antenor answered, ‘you are considered Achaea’s most powerful king, a ruler whom every realm respects, whose word carries weight.’

  ‘Great weight,’ Anchises wheezed.

  ‘Telamon wouldn’t care to incur your displeasure,’ Antenor said. ‘A hint should be enough.’

  ‘More than enough,’ said Anchises.

  ‘Telamon has seen Mycenae’s conquests along the Corinthian shore,’ Antenor continued, ‘and I believe he fears your ambitions embrace Salamis,’

  ‘He’s certain you want Salamis,’ Anchises repeated.

  ‘His belief is wrong,’ I assured them. ‘Salamis need have no qualms. I don’t quite understand why Priam’s so hot to recover his sister. Hesione has lived for years in Salamis, a concubine who has borne a bastard son. Surely,’ I added deliberately, ‘he doesn’t want shop-worn goods returned?’

  A flush tinged Antenor’s withered cheeks. ‘Don’t you understand, sire? It’s a question of Heroic honour, the probity of Priam’s royal House! How can he rest content while his sister, seized by force, is a slave in an alien land?’

  ‘Laomedon’s daughter enslaved. Disgraceful!’ Anchises snuffled.

  ‘Salamis,’ I pointed out, ‘is hardly a powerful kingdom. Yet Priam hasn’t tried to retrieve Hesione by force.’

  Antenor thumped his staff on the floor tiles, faded eyes glittered angrily beneath hoar-frosted brows. ‘All Troy’s Heroes are frantic to avenge the slight on Trojan honour. They’d fight Salamis tomorrow, burn Telamon’s palace around his ears. But …,’

  ‘But what?’ I inquired politely, knowing the answer.

  ‘We haven’t the ships,’ said Antenor sulkily, ‘and we fear your navy’s might. Would your galleys sit tamely in port while a Trojan fleet approached Achaea’s shores?’

  ‘Hardly,’ I smiled.

  The conversation had arrived at bargaining point; Mycenaean power weighted the scales. (Also, sown in my mind like a vine seed ready to germinate, its presence vaguely sensed but flower and fruit still dormant, slumbered a realization that Heroes might go to war for a woman’s reputation. I had supposed they were not such fools--and later proved the supposition wrong.) ‘Please be seated, gentlemen; let us end formality.’ I beckoned a steward. ‘Bring wine.’

  Ensconced in cushioned chairs, crystal cups in hand, the greybeards sipped appreciatively and complimented the vintage. I said, ‘You ask me to lean on Telamon. He doesn’t pay Mycenae tribute, so I can’t press the point by increasing his dues. What methods would you suggest?’

  Antenor stroked a finger round the rim of his cup. The crystal rang like a nightingale’s trill. ‘You could threaten him with war, sire.’

  ‘Yes, threaten him with war,’ Anchises bleated.

  ‘So I could,’ I agreed, restraining irritability. (I began to find Anchises’ echoes annoying.) ‘And possibly spark a conflict against Salamis’ neighbouring kingdoms such as Megara and Athens. Thebes might be tempted to quench the blaze. No, my lords. I’m not yet ready to take on Thebes.’

  ‘How else can Telamon be persuaded? He laughs at Trojan threats.’

  ‘I could try diplomatic methods, supported by hefty bribes Mycenae can afford. Atreus thus pacified Pylos in a far more serious crisis.’

  ‘Would you, sire?’ said Antenor eagerly. ‘You’d earn King Priam’s gratitude--’

  ‘Gratitude buys no merchandise in any market I know. Restoring Hesione,’ I added briskly, ‘demands a solid return.’

  ‘We have brought a costly treasure,’ Antenor said, ‘gold and bronze and thoroughbred horses, which we offered Telamon. He spurned it.’

  ‘So shall I. The price you must pay for Hesione’s release,’ I said in a voice like stone, ‘is free passage through the Hellespont for Mycenaean galleys.’

  I might have struck them in the face, so stunned they looked. Antenor stuttered, ‘We cannot ... a question of high policy ... we have no authority ... King Priam alone may ...’

  ‘Return then,’ I rapped, ‘to Troy. State my terms to Priam. If he accepts he’ll see Hesione before a moon has gone, though I kill Telamon to do it. Consider the advantages,’ I urged. ‘For four long years your city and mine have waged a maritime war of attrition--and Troy is well-nigh swept from the seas. Priam, at a word, can end the war.’

  ‘I’ll deliver your message,’ Antenor said tiredly, ‘but I warn you, sire, King Priam is unlikely to agree. He considers Hesione’s abduction a cause for reprisals, not for yielding concessions.’

  ‘No concessions,’ Anchises affirmed, shaking a grizzled head. ‘The war your navy wages on ours,’ Antenor continued, his voice hardening, ‘holds no terrors for Troy. We can easily survive without trading overseas.’

  The assertion grated my nerves. ‘Mycenae’s fleet is strong enough to land a Host on Trojan shores,’ I said--and regretted the boast as it left my lips.

  Antenor smiled derisively. ‘Truly?
I think, sire, you propound a very dangerous venture. Troy has allies, remember--together our strength is greater than yours.’

  A salutary rejoinder to a hasty and foolish remark. I said disarmingly. ‘We lose ourselves in words. Convey my proposal to Priam: we’ll see what he says. My lords, your cups are empty--damn those idle squires! Ho, steward--bring more wine!’

  I entertained the Trojans a moon thereafter, showed them Tiryns and Midea, war galleys harboured at Nauplia, paraded panoplied war-bands on the Field of War, used every means to stamp on their minds Mycenae’s might. I wasted my time. Antenor and Anchises returned to Troy, Hesione remained in Salamis, the Hellespont stayed blockaded. Priam sent no answer to my offer. Frankly I expected none. I had met Priam when in Atreus’ reign I led an embassy to Troy, and knew him for a senile, querulous weakling who mistook obstinacy for resolution, sophistry for statecraft. At diplomatic levels we heard no more from Troy until Paris came to Sparta. You have heard the evidence. Let no one say I never tried to avert the Trojan War.

  * * *

  After waiting a moon for an answer I decided some advantage could be won from Priam’s deputation. Despite Periphetes’ doubts--the season advanced; prudent mariners were beaching ships for the winter--I assembled five triaconters at Nauplia. On blue and tranquil waters the vessels rounded Hydrea under sail, thence rowed against the wind to beach at Epidauros. The city paid tribute to Diomedes King of Argos; his Warden arranged a lavish feast and made my Heroes drunk. A brisk autumnal breeze next morning cooled some aching heads; and by early afternoon the galleys harboured at Salamis.

  We anchored in the bay while I sent emissaries ashore to announce a friendly visit. (It is unwise, on foreign coasts, to disembark unheralded a body of armoured warriors. Though pirates nowadays are rare, people have not forgotten their ravages in the past.) Telamon came to the tidemark; the triaconters beached and I waded ashore.

  The king was tall and spare, a little bent by the weight of years, white haired and fresh complexioned. Telamon in his time had been a famous warrior who shared in several exploits of that villainous madman Hercules. He embraced me warmly and introduced his son Ajax, a huge fair-haired brawny youth handsome in face and manner. Humour danced in frank blue eyes. I liked him on sight.

  I was conducted to a palace overlooking the harbour, bathed and changed my sea-going clothes for ceremonial dress. Dinner then was ready in the Hall and the company ate an excellent meal and drank much mellow wine. Telamon conversed easily on affairs in general, congratulated me on a successful campaign in Corinthia--as the Gulf-side realms Mycenae conquered were coming to be called--and courteously avoided the reasons for my visit. His Heroes and mine got on famously together--as often happens in Achaea many were blood relations and discovered absorbing interest in tracing family trees--bragged about their exploits and swallowed an ample genesis for hangovers next day.

  In the cool of evening, cloak-wrapped against an on-shore wind, I strolled the beach with Telamon, a brace of bodyguard Heroes plodding discreetly in rear. After inspecting my beached triaconters we perched companionably side by side on the shoreward end of a stone-built jetty. Telamon flicked a pebble into the sea and said casually, ‘I think, Agamemnon, you have not come all this way for a social visit. What do you want to discuss?’

  I said, ‘You have recently received a deputation from Troy?’ He frowned. ‘Indeed. Priam has badgered me for ages, sent messengers and envoys year by year. Antenor and Anchises were only the last of many. After all this time do they really think I’ll give Hesione back? She’s a legitimate prize of war--and perfectly happy in Salamis. I sent them away with a flea in the ear.’

  ‘They travelled on to Mycenae.’

  Telamon’s eyebrows climbed. ‘Did they indeed? What the blazes were they after?’

  I described the negotiations, and emphasized that the Trojans wished me to secure Hesione’s release by diplomacy and bribes and, if those means failed, to threaten war.

  ‘Damned rascals!’ Telamon exploded. ‘I hope you--’

  ‘They met a blank refusal. Not for a moment,’ I added virtuously, ‘would I consider such a shocking proposal.’

  ‘Typical of Trojans,’ Telamon sniffed.

  ‘Antenor, when I turned him down, suggested Priam might mount a seaborne invasion to land a Trojan Host on Salamis.’ Telamon stammered, fought for words. ‘W-what! He couldn’t be serious!’

  ‘He seemed quite definite. Said it was the last resort: Priam’s prepared to fight to get his sister back. A silly idea--you’ve surely galleys enough to stop them reaching your shores?’

  ‘Galleys?’ Telamon muttered. ‘A dozen or so--that's all. We’d scarcely--’

  ‘Ah. well.’ I rose and fastened my cloak. ‘Priam may change his mind--though you shouldn’t bank on that too much; he’s a very malevolent man. The evening is growing chilly. Shall we return to the palace?’

  I had planted the barb, and allowed it to fester. During the next few days Telamon’s manner remained preoccupied and distrait; he frequently called his elders into Council. Once he asked me, as commander of the world’s most powerful fleet, for an estimate of Trojan naval strength. I said that although during the four-year sea war we had sunk a goodly number Troy could probably sail at need a fifty-galley fleet. Telamon, looking glum, retired to the Throne Room where his Council was assembled. I heard voices raised in argument; and smiled quietly to myself.

  In his father’s absence Ajax acted as host: an engaging, open-hearted lad, honest and lacking in guile. (Not precisely the most desirable qualities in one who was heir to a throne.) He was immensely strong and skilled at arms, handled his horses superbly, fenced like a master, shot birds on the wing. He swam like a dolphin, ran like a stag--and owned not an idea beyond fighting and sport. Guided by a talented, experienced king Ajax would make a magnificent Marshal.

  Telamon shed his abstracted air and invited me courteously to attend a Council meeting: he had a proposal to make. He seated me beside him in the Throne Room--a cramped little chamber, whitewashed walls and plain stone floor--and after the usual politenesses went straight to business. Salamis, he stated, was menaced by Trojan sea power, a threat she had not the naval strength to resist. Would Mycenae, therefore, be ready to conclude an alliance and come to Salamis’ aid should Troy attempt an invasion?

  Chin in hand, I pretended to think. The stratagem was working exactly as I had planned. I said slowly, ‘A grave commitment, Telamon; and I visualize serious snags. It’s unlikely you’d get warning before the Trojan fleet passed Euboia--one day’s sail from Salamis. You’d send a galley asking my help--one day’s sail. My squadron from Nauplia will take at least another day before sighting Salamis. You’ll have Priam’s men ashore while we’re still at sea.’

  I doubt that Telamon and his elders debated such mundane matters as time and space. My succinct exposition induced a gloomy silence. I let them stew for a moment, and added, ‘There is, of course, a solution.’

  Telamon, dejectedly tugging his nose, looked up eagerly. ‘Yes?’

  ‘I might station a squadron permanently in Salamis,’

  Voices babbled happily, smiles cracked bearded faces. ‘An excellent scheme, Agamemnon,’ Telamon said delightedly. ‘We’ll receive your ships with gratitude and pleasure.’

  I looked at the floor, apparently deep in thought. ‘The project, naturally, entails provisions. While my ships are harboured in Salamis you must find the squadron’s victuals and wine, supply cordage, timber, oars and so on to make good wear and tear.’ Telamon, less delightedly, said, ‘A running expense--but a reasonable request which I’ll accept.’ The Council murmured agreement.

  ‘Then,’ I continued, ‘I shall have to replace in my seagoing fleet the ships on guard in Salamis. It is only fair, I think, you should bear part of the capital cost and maintenance thereafter. A yearly payment, shall we say? Our Curators can calculate details.’

  Like mist wiped from a mirror the gladness vanished from Telamon’s face. ‘An an
nual payment? You’re demanding tribute, Agamemnon!’

  ‘Tribute?’ I said in shocked astonishment. ‘No such thing! I ask merely a contribution to defray expenses, for the upkeep of the galleys which guarantee your safety. If you find the price excessive ...’ I shrugged, and examined my nails.

  Telamon said heavily, ‘This is not a point for decision in the flicker of an eyelid. I will debate the question, and give you my verdict later.’

  He pointed his sceptre downwards to indicate the audience ended. I sauntered from the poky Throne Room and breathed bracing autumnal air. Ajax met me joyfully: a savage long-tushed boar, he crowed, awaited our spears in the hills. I mounted behind a well-matched pair of bay Thessalian stallions and drove happily to the forest. We never found the boar.

  A sad-eyed Telamon agreed to my demands. Scribes travelled in my train; they and the king’s Curator together calculated a yearly tribute--for such in effect it was. After gaining my ends I saw no cause for loitering in Salamis; and my shipmasters were scanning the skies and prophesying winter gales. I made arrangements for departure; Telamon gave us a farewell feast. When platters had been removed, the palace bard in song and Heroes embarking on serious drinking Ajax suddenly asked my leave to sail in my ship to Mycenae. I raised an eyebrow at Telamon.

  ‘Yes,’ he nodded. 'I've given him permission. My son is somewhat confined in Salamis--time he saw the world. I believe he’ll do you credit.’

  At sunrise we ran the galleys afloat, embarked and raised the masts. A fair wind bellied the sails, prows curvetted on white-maned waves. Ajax stood beside me in the sternsheets; we waved to Telamon’s figure diminishing on the shore.

  I ducked inside the cabin, contentedly swallowed watered wine--an anodyne for the sickness which invariably beset me before land was out of sight. On pretence of a non-existent threat from Troy I had acquired a tributary kingdom and a naval base commanding the Megaran Gulf--and all without the shedding of a single drop of blood.