'Which removes for a time the threat of famine,' Atreus said, 'but the people will still go short. Sooner or later we'll have to break the Theban hold on Orchomenos.'
About this time - or perhaps a little later; nowadays my memory is apt to go astray - Jason returned from Colchis. Word arrived from Tiryns that Argo had anchored in Nauplia's bay. Jason, the messenger added, resolutely refused to beach his ship or allow anyone on board: he held a cargo for delivery to none but King Eurystheus in person. Rumours of his return had reached us from Iolcos where he first made port; stories of his exploits during a two-year expedition multiplied like maggots in a corpse. He, his ship and crew were names in everyone's mouth; men wanted to meet the mariner and hear the truth from his lips.
Eurystheus renounced dignity - you don't normally summon kings - and escorted by palace Heroes drove to Nauplia.
Galleys bristled a sandy beach in rows; every owner had his own particular slip. A wharf of quarried stone jutted from the tide mark a bowshot out to sea; here ships were moored to offload heavy cargo. Seamen clustered in groups on wharf and beach, squatted beside the galleys and cobbled sails and cables, planed the oars. Away to the left reared Nauplia's natural breakwater, a rocky arm of land two hundred foot-lengths high; on the seaward face a cliff fell sheer to the sea. (Aerope's Leap, the people called it, after a doom-laden day in the future.) Solitary in the bay a long black penteconter rocked lazily on the swell.
Eurystheus drove down the beach till the wheels sank deep in sand, dismounted and greeted Thyestes who, surrounded by attendants, waited to receive him. The Warden of Tiryns wore a gold-embroidered cloak and a vindictive expression, and gestured angrily towards the galley.
'The harbour master commanded the fellow either to beach or moor at the wharf; he refused both. Spearmen went in a boat to enforce the orders; Jason, damn him, manned the bulwarks and fended them off Is his cargo too precious for ordinary men to see?'
'It wouldn't surprise me,' Eurystheus said quietly. 'Call to him, my lord: tell him the king is here.'
Thyestes cupped hands and bawled across the water. The anchor thumped aboard; oars rattled on tholes and paddled Argo to the wharf. Sailors whipped ropes round bollards. Jason leaped ashore and saluted, back of the hand on forehead.
Sun had burned the mariner's features brown as plough- turned soil, sea rime cindered his beard. Smilingly he said, 'I come to repay my debt, sire. Half of all I brought from Colchis awaits you in the hold. Care to see it?'
He handed king and Marshal on deck; a jerk of Atreus' head signalled me aboard. Thyestes stayed on the wharf, muttering in his beard and eyeing with growing interest a vivid apparition sitting in the sternsheets: a remarkably beautiful woman, red-haired, red-lipped, fierce green eyes in a face like flawless marble. Seamen lifted planks which covered the hold. Leather sacks reposed on the garboard strakes. Jason unknotted thongs, opened wide the mouths. Gold dust glittered like sun-rays in the darkness of the hold.
The king's mouth opened; silently he counted. 'Fifteen sack-loads. And this is only half?'
'Exactly half. The rest, after rewarding my crew, I deposited at Corinth's port.'
Atreus scanned the sailors who busied about the ship, stacking oars, coiling ropes, lowering the mast. 'These are not the Heroes who sailed with you to Colchis?'
'No. They left me at Iolcos and later landfalls in Achaea. I recruited ordinary seamen in their place.'
'Where did you leave Hercules?'
That blasted nuisance! He behaved like a thundering pest from the start. Never, to my knowledge, been to sea before. Didn't stop him trying to interfere. You'd think his strength would help the rowing. Not so. Clumsy lout kept breaking his oar. After clearing the Hellespont we beached one day in Mysia. I told the crew to stay by the ship - the natives can be hostile on these unknown foreign shores. Hercules defied my orders, wandered into the woods. When he hadn't shown in the morning I re-embarked and left him.' Jason grinned. 'We all felt better afterwards.'
'You marooned him?' asked Atreus, startled.
'Just that. Mysia's not very far. The bastard will find a way back. Unfortunately.'
Atreus, like his brother, had not failed to notice the woman aboard. He nodded in her direction and said lightly, 'A slave you bought on the way, or perhaps a captive taken from the enemies you encountered ? She's extraordinarily lovely!'
Jason made a face. 'My wife Medea, daughter of the King of Colchis. I meant to leave her in Iolcos, but a palace revolution killed my brother Pelias and we had to sail in a hurry. She won't let me out of her sight. Medea is not,' said Jason ruefully, 'a lady to be tampered with.'
(The mariner, I learned later, told less than half the truth. Medea, hoping to put her husband on Iolcos' throne, had instigated Pelias' murder in a rather horrible way. His son, discovering the facts, chased her and Jason out. Undoubtedly a woman worth avoiding!)
Slaves off-loaded the precious cargo and piled it into wagons under Atreus' watchful eye. Thyestes detailed an escort; oxen strained at the yokes and the convoy trundled away on the Argos road. Eurystheus invited Medea and Jason to dine in Tiryns' Hall. Thyestes swiftly ousted his Companion from the chariot, mounted the lady instead and took the reins. Jason, riding in my car - I had not yet found a Companion and drove myself - missed none of this little ploy, and observed wryly, 'I wish the Lord of Tiryns luck - but really he hasn't a chance. Medea won't look at another man, and she's jealous as a lioness in whelp.'
Jason described during dinner the hazards of his unique voyage to Colchis: adventures since renowned, embroidered and exaggerated, a favourite epic sung by the bards in every palace Hall. Eurystheus listened entranced; Atreus showed more interest in the mercantile side of the quest.
'I understand these Colchians are more or less barbarians?'
'Fairly savage, yes, but endowed with primitive cunning.' Jason drained his cup, and appreciatively smacked his lips. 'Vintage Pramnian, if I'm not mistaken - a change from the muck I've been drinking lately. They have little idea of their gold dust's value but are keen as knives when it comes to barter. Cleaned out all my trade goods, and demanded more. An ugly crisis developed, but Medea calmed them down. She'd fallen arse over tip in love, did anything I wanted. So I married the girl and promised to return. Otherwise we mightn't have escaped.'
The woman from Colchis sat stiffly erect in her chair, baleful viridian eyes like gems in an ivory face. Thyestes assiduously plied her with food and wine and conversation; he might as well have talked to the wall. Her attention and regard stayed immovably fixed on her husband.
Jason smiled sardonically. 'Medea's mastery of our tongue is slight as a harlot's virtue. I fear my lord of Tiryns wastes his breath.'
Atreus laughed. 'My brother's a vaunted seducer - boasts that he never fails. Do him good to assault an impregnable fort. Will you go back to Colchis ?'
'Not flaming likely! I've made my pile and crave a quiet life. Settle in Corinth, perhaps - a pleasant town.'
Atreus, deep in thought, drummed fingers on the table, swallowed a honeyed fig and said, 'You've found an opening for trade, and a perennial source of gold.' He addressed the king. 'I believe, sire, we should emulate Jason's cruise, and equip an annual expedition to bring the gold from Colchis. Not a single ship, but several, all laden with the goods the Colchians want.'
Eurystheus looked doubtful. 'Surely a risky venture? You encountered many perils on the voyage ?'
'Nothing insurmountable. Quite straightforward for well- found ships and capable seamen. Only one genuine obstacle. The Hellespont.' Jason wetted a fingertip in wine, traced lines on the cedarwood table. 'A narrow strait and a day's hard rowing. The entrance is a problem: tortuous and full of reefs. Northerly four-knot current and strong north-easterly winds three-quarters of the year. A proper brute.'
Atreus looked disappointed. 'Is there no way round?'
'You don't know the geography, my lord.' Jason sucked wine from his nails. 'No way round, but one across. You could disembark here' -
a finger stabbed - 'at a promontory abutting the entrance, carry your cargoes over the projecting peninsula, thus, and re-embark at a bay - about there - within the Hellespont. ''Which means,' said Atreus, 'a squadron stationed permanently at the re-embarkation bay and a fleet of wagons ashore to carry the goods.'
'Exactly. Worth it, I'd say.'
Eurystheus said uncertainly, The overland route crosses Trojan territory. Should we not get leave from Laomedon of Troy?'
The Marshal nodded. 'It might be wise. I can't see him raising objections. Do you consider the project feasible, sire?'
'It sounds possible, certainly - and we want that gold. The plan demands a lot of ships. We can hire galleys from Crete, and perhaps —'
'No!' said Atreus strongly. 'Let's not depend on foreign fleets. Far wiser to build our own in Nauplia's yards. It is time, and more than time, Mycenae sailed a navy of her own! How otherwise can we guarantee safe passage for our gold ships against pirates roving the seas from Phoenicia and Caria? Would Pylos threaten our shores if we had a fleet in being ?'
His Marshal's vehemence shook the king. An obstinate expression crossed sere and wrinkled features. 'You urge an ambitious programme, my lord - and a considerable change in policy. This is not a matter for decision during gossip after dinner. Tomorrow, at Mycenae, we'll discuss the scheme in Council.'
Eurystheus rose from the throne. Everyone stood respectfully. Attended by squires he left the Hall. Atreus lifted a golden goblet, drank deep and winked at Jason. 'I'll sway him, never fear. You'll see regular voyages to Colchis before three years are out!'
(Atreus kept his word. A fleet navigated the Hellespont in the second year of his reign; every spring thereafter a convoy lifted anchor and sailed from Nauplia's harbour, transhipped at the Hellespont's mouth and awaited return of the gold ships. Every captain, in Jason's honour, named his galley 'Argo', and many notable Heroes crewed the first and subsequent trips. They all liked to pretend they had braved the original voyage with Jason; and the tactful bards who enshrine our legends never contradict Heroes.)
Thus was born the genesis of Mycenaean sea power - and a
cardinal cause of the war we fought against Troy.
** *
At the King's command Scribes recorded Jason's instructions for sailing a ship to Colchis, noting landfalls, tides and currents, stellar observations, the friendliness - or otherwise - of inhabitants on the way. Jason and his formidable wife then departed for Corinth, where King Eurystheus granted him a manor. (They lived in Corinth for several years and bred a brace of children; until a harried and henpecked Jason skipped to Thebes and married Creon's daughter. Medea's smouldering savagery flared in a blaze of vengeance. She immediately killed her children, followed her errant husband and contrived to poison his bride. Escaping to Athens she bewitched old King Aegeus, who installed her in his palace as a concubine. Nobody seems to know what became of her thereafter; she may be alive today - a frightening thought.)
Atreus devoted himself to building a powerful fleet. Woodmen roamed the forests, felled cypress and oak and pine; waggoners in hundreds hauled the logs to Nauplia; shipwrights adzed and sawed and planed; sail- and cable-makers laboured from dawn until nightfall. The Marshal journeyed often to the port, supervised construction and hurried on the work. Combined with his other duties - adviser-in-chief to the king, Leader of the Host, ambassador-at-large - the task became a burden heavier than even Atreus could bear.
He conceived the idea of a deputy to lighten the load at Nauplia. 'At the moment I'm forced to depend on the harbour master, and the man's a fool, and idle as well. I need someone entirely reliable to whom I can depute authority. A Master of the Ships, in fact.' He eyed me speculatively. 'You're young, Agamemnon, but I think you'd fit. Do you fancy the job?'
'Not I,' I answered fervently. 'I know nothing of ships and the sea!'
Atreus looked unconvinced, and I feared - with reason - the intention remained in his mind.
News from the north brought further distractions. The Heraclids, successfully concluding alliances, had gained an Athenian contingent, some Locrian slingers and detachments from Boeotian territories which Thebes controlled. A tentative raid on the Isthmus ravaged an outlying demesne a Corinthian Hero held, and the Warden of Corinth expected further forays.
King Eurystheus in Council considered the pros and cons and, after long and wordy argument, proposed a pre-emptive strike. Levy the Host, he said, burst across the Isthmus, bring the Heraclids to battle and smash them into fragments with an overwhelming force. The Council's greybeards croaked agreement; Mycenae, they reminded the king, had not waged full- scale war for years, and Heroes were getting soft.
Atreus heatedly demurred. A campaign demanded a bulky train which would absorb draught animals, wagons and drovers and deprive the transport hauling timber for the fleet. A trifling delay, the Council murmured; the war would be over, the Host returned before the moon waxed full.
Very well, said Atreus; then what about Pylos ? - an immediate threat they could not ignore. Intelligence sources declared King Neleus' armada crowded Pylos' beaches; only a contrary wind prevented him from sailing. The Council's recommendations delayed the launch of galleys to oppose the Pylians; would they also strip the kingdom's shore defences when an enemy was poised to wreak destruction from the sea ?
Eurystheus would not be deterred. Atreus opined later (I did not attend the meeting) that the king in his declining years craved a glorious and not too difficult victory before the grave engulfed him. But he could not stay blind to the challenge from Pylos, and concocted a proposal to counter his Marshal's warning.
'We will make peace with Neleus,' he told the Council, 'and offer generous restitution for the destruction Hercules wrought. You, my lord Atreus, will lead an embassy to Pylos, taking valuable gifts, cattle and horses, slaves and gold and bronze. Offer the king our friendship, plead our deep contrition for the wrong that he has suffered.'
'You will humble yourself to Neleus?' Atreus asked.
'A wise political gambit, my lord. Pylos can do us enormous harm; we'll find it hard to retaliate. Of course, when you've built your fleet ... Meanwhile let us extinguish Hercules' troublesome brood.'
'Are you seriously suggesting,' Atreus raged, 'that I, Marshal of Mycenae, Pelops' son, sprung from Zeus through Tantalus, should crawl like a beggar to Neleus, Thessalian Tyro's by- blow?'
'He claims descent from Poseidon. It's statecraft, Atreus, statecraft. Take when you're strong, bluff if you're weak, yield when you must. We are forced, for a time, to yield.'
Then who,' demanded Atreus, 'will lead the Host ? I can't be in two places at once!'
'I am quite capable,' said Eurystheus warmly, 'of conducting a campaign. You will make arrangements immediately for the embassy to Pylos.' He addressed the Curator. 'Provide the Marshal with an opulent treasure. I shall call a levy of arms and march when the moon is new. That is all, gentlemen. The Council is ended.'
You can't, without losing your lands, defy a royal command. Atreus brooded in sullen fury, recognized realities and the urgency of the mission, recovered his temper and quickly collected a wagon train and escort for the journey. I expected to accompany him, and made my preparations. He entered my house, brusquely dismissed the slaves packing accoutrements and baggage and said, 'You go with King Eurystheus and the Host.'
A cuirass I was holding clattered on the floor. Clymene retrieved the piece and polished a smear on the bronze. 'Why, my lord ? Surely —'
'Excellent reasons. Come!' The Marshal beckoned me outside. 'I want somebody whose judgment I can trust to scrutinize palace politics when I'm gone, and also observe the Heraclid war. With Eurystheus in charge I have an ugly feeling things could easily go wrong. He's never led a major campaign, and is getting on in years. You'll watch like a hawk, Agamemnon, and send me word in a flash if anything untoward happens.'
I was not altogether displeased. A Hero far prefers the chance of a fight to a du
ll diplomatic mission. The Marshal watched my face, read my thoughts and said coldly, 'No false heroics, if you please. Don't get yourself stuck on some asinine Heraclid's spear. If we look like being defeated move out fast. There's no disgrace in running when the odds are turning against you.'
Atreus left in the morning. He held Mycenae's throne when next I saw him.
Heroes flocked to the citadel in response to the royal levy, each bringing his Companion, a troop of spearmen and slaves, and ox-carts to carry his baggage. Almost every nobleman answered Eurystheus' call; a few exceptions - sick or elderly, perhaps, or engaged in private quarrels with unforgiving neighbours - paid fines instead. Though King Adrastus of Argos offered a detachment Eurystheus declined allied aid: he reckoned Mycenae's vassals alone could beat the Heraclid gang. Two hundred chariots and two thousand spearmen encamped around the city: a considerable Host by any standards before the Trojan War. The rasp of grindstones whetting blades and bronzesmiths' clanging hammers resounded from dawn till night.
When kings go warring they delegate administrative powers to one of their principal Heroes. The machinery can't be allowed to grind to a halt. A flow of petitioners daily besieges the Throne Room, ranging from importunate Daughters seeking extended estates to humble freemen disputing a boundary fence. Wrongdoers have to be punished, and the kingdom's accounts inspected. Someone has to carry on the work.
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