Warriors in Bronze

by George Shipway

  Menelaus settled the horses to a steady rhythmical gallop. He said, 'The Lady knows what you're at, Agamemnon - but if I don't sleep soon you'll be driven by a waking corpse! '

  * * *

  A chamberlain conducted us to the Hall where King Adrastus relaxed on the throne and chatted to Tydeus, his Leader of the Host, and a little group of Heroes. Announcement of our names chopped talk like a falling axe. I saluted the king and said, 'Sire, I pray an interview in private.'

  Adrastus' nutcracker features advertised astonishment. 'Aga­memnon! Menelaus! I thought you gone with your Host to scupper those troublesome Heraclids! Is the war decided ? Sit beside me, have some wine and tell me all the wonderful deeds your Heroes performed!'

  An old-fashioned man with old-fashioned ways, heroics dear to his heart, ceremony in his blood, averse to haste. Numbly I resigned myself to guest-and-host politeness, conventional ex­changes and formal conversation. You do not hustle kings. Tydeus, luckily, was a more perceptive man beneath his for­bidding appearance. He said, 'These fellows are out on their feet, sire. Best hear what they have to say before they collapse completely!'

  'In private, my lord,' I begged.

  Adrastus clicked his tongue. 'Most unmannerly. Can't we finish our wine? Young men nowadays are always in such a hurry. Very well.' He waved a hand; his Heroes unwillingly withdrew, leaving only Tydeus. 'Courtesy yields to your wishes, my lord. What is your news?'

  I had come to Argos on Atreus' behalf to find him help and fighting men. I must use every possible plea, even reveal the horrible episode in Aerope's bedroom - a private family affair I would rather have left unsaid. It had to be told. Adrastus, notorious for his archaic views and adherence to outworn codes of Heroic behaviour, could conceivably be swayed my way by Thyestes' treacherous adultery. (After Helen and Paris eloped I used the same incentive to rouse Achaea's Heroes.) No ruler likes to interfere in foreign dynastic quarrels, but Aerope's evil seduction might inflame his chivalrous instincts and spur him on to punish the guilty man.

  Or so I hoped. I had yet to learn the covetousness of kings.

  In short strain-blurred sentences I told the entire story, be­ginning at our defeat and Eurystheus' death. Adrastus tut-tutted and waggled his hands. When I described my discovery in Aerope's room his face went stiff and he listened in stony silence. I swore that Thyestes would seize the citadel, usurp the throne and oppose the Marshal's entry.

  Tydeus said, 'What are Thyestes' forces?'

  'A score of spears he brought from Tiryns. Roughly a hun­dred men if the guards in Mycenae support him.'

  'How many men has Atreus taken to Pylos?'

  'His household Heroes, and fifty spears.'

  'Fifty spears won't take Mycenae,' Adrastus said. Thyestes, I fancy, holds the whip. Why appeal to me, Agamemnon?'

  'To beg a favour on Atreus' behalf. The Marshal will arrive here in four days' time. Sire, I ask you to reinforce him with a warband from your Host.'

  'H'm. Why should I ? A purely Pelopid dispute. I'm not sure it's politic for Argos to meddle. These family quarrels —! Be­sides, your Host has been defeated and there's nothing to stop the Heraclids crossing the Isthmus. Hyllus may be tempted to invade the Argolid - and I'll want my warriors here, not galli­vanting to Mycenae. Very difficult.'

  'The Heraclids,' I pleaded, 'suffered casualties in the battle, and are probably licking their wounds.'

  'Supposition, Agamemnon - a dangerous base for action. I'll have to think it over. No immediate hurry.'

  'Sire,' I said desperately, 'there is urgent need for haste. Apart from Thyestes' garrison, survivors from Megara's battle will be dribbling back to Mycenae. Defeated men don't look for fur­ther fighting. They'll probably resign themselves, accept the situation and bow to Thyestes' rule.'

  Tydeus spoke long and earnestly in Adrastus' ear. A cunning expression puckered the king's lined features. He nodded sagely and said, 'Agamemnon, I am inclined to grant your request. Thyestes' crime deserves most condign punishment. A gentle­man, so-called, who dishonours his brother's wife —! Revolting behaviour!' A flush tinged shrivelled cheeks. 'You request a warband - when Atreus arrives he can have my entire Host. I'll order it to be mustered and ready.' Adrastus cleared his throat. 'There's one condition.'

  'Which is, sire?'

  'Argos henceforth holds in tribute Midea and Asine.'

  I rocked on my feet. Menelaus wedged an arm behind my back and whispered hoarsely, 'Tell the old fool to jump in the sea!'

  I said wearily, 'How can I give such an undertaking, sire? I am not king of Mycenae!'

  'You speak for Atreus who, if I support him, will soon be king. If I support him, Agamemnon. Otherwise ... not. Thyes­tes wins the throne.'

  My brain refused to function. I closed my eyes. Menelaus said, 'If my brother agrees to your condition how can we guarantee the Marshal will approve?'

  'You'll both accept my hospitality in Argos,' Adrastus said kindly, 'until Thyestes is sent packing and a compact written by Scribes bears Atreus' seal and mine. Hostages, my dear Menelaus. Somehow I don't think Atreus will sacrifice his grandsons. Dammit, what am I saying? I mean his sons, of course!'

  I met Adrastus' gaze. He smiled benevolently, his eyes were hard as stones. I said dully, 'You leave no choice. I promise that Atreus King of Mycenae will grant Argos the tributes of Midea and Asine.'

  'Well said!' Adrastus exclaimed. He clapped his hands. 'Bring cups and flagons! Let's celebrate the compact!'

  My legs gave way. Despite Menelaus' supporting arm I sank slowly to the floor, and pulled him down as well. We sagged there shoulder to shoulder like a pair of broken dolls. Tydeus laughed out loud.

  'It's not wine they need, but sleep, Ho, Diomedes! Fetch

  litters, and take these gentlemen to bed!'

  * * *

  We slept like carcases till next day's noon, and woke in a palace bedroom superbly furnished. Squires attended our wants, conducted us to a bath where attractive female slaves sluiced away sweat and grime and oiled and anointed our bodies. Ravenously we devoured roast venison and pork, baked octo­pus and cockles, beans and lentils, cheese and figs and pears. Bloated like bladders we fell on the beds and slept again. In the evening cool I sauntered out to take the air in the Court; an affable palace Hero, armoured, sworded and shielded, appeared from a passage and strolled beside me.

  'I regret,' he said, 'you may not pass the gates. Otherwise the citadel is yours to go where you will.'

  Our confinement was not unpleasant. We dined in the Hall and talked with Argos' Heroes, all agog to hear the details of Mycenae's rout at Megara: the Scavengers' performance caused several valiant warriors to worriedly scratch their heads. Adrastus was all benevolence; his Leader of the Host heard courteously my theories on tactical reforms. I met again his son Diomedes and fascinated him by demonstrating the battle with pebbles and twigs on the portico floor. He con­curred in all my criticisms - a most percipient youth.

  An insect soured the honey: a nagging anxiety about Atreus' reaction to the undertaking promised in his name.

  On the fourth day's forenoon the Marshal, outstripping his scouts, rocketed through the gates and reined outside the palace. Floured by dust and rank with sweat he clanked into the Hall and saluted the king on his throne. Adrastus mouthed the polite banalities court conventions demanded, ignored Atreus' testy impatience and beckoned me forward.

  'Your - ah - son, my lord Marshal, will tell you all you should know.'

  Atreus' eyebrows climbed in surprise; he swung on me and said, 'Agamemnon! Why are you in Argos?' His face beneath the grime was set in hard harsh lines, blue eyes fierce and cold as a wintry sky. He gripped my arm and led me from the group around the throne, pushed me on a bench and said, 'Now. Your messenger told me Eurystheus is dead. Thyestes holds Mycenae. That's all I know. Details, please - and fast!'

  For a second time I sketched the sorry tale. Atreus stood rock- still, one hand grasping sword hilt, the fingers of the other traced a moulding on
his cuirass - a boar's head, viciously tushed. When I came to the scene in Aerope's room I stam­mered, the words sticking in my throat. 1 sent him a nervous glance. A look like death rampaging ravaged his face.

  I described the compact agreed with King Adrastus.

  In a voice like the hiss of sword from sheath Atreus said, 'The doom I devise for Thyestes shall make men shrink from the telling. Aerope ...' His face twisted. Visibly he controlled himself, lifted his chin and stared at a garish wall-frieze of warriors battling bulls. 'You bartered away the cities we took. You did right. Adrastus shall stand by his bargain.'

  He left me on the bench, returned to the throne and said, 'Sire, I honour the agreement Agamemnon made. Now, where is your Host?'

  Adrastus said smoothly, 'Mustered, as I promised, in the cita­del and town, ready to march at dawn.'

  'At dawn?' Atreus looked at the sunlight shafting clerestory slats. 'At dawn? Half the day remains, sire. Sound the trum­pets, assemble your men. I lead them to Mycenae directly they've yoked the chariots!'

  The king turned helplessly to his Leader of the Host. A won­dering admiration crossed Tydeus' swarthy features. 'It shall be done, my lord. We'll be hammering Mycenae's walls before the day is out!'

  * * *

  The Host marched; and I remained in Argos. Courteously but adamantly Adrastus refused to let me go: until Atreus as King of Mycenae ratified the treaty I must remain his guest. The king relented enough to permit Menelaus' departure. 'You're the valuable hostage, Agamemnon,' he confided, 'the son Atreus cherishes most. He doesn't give a damn for Menelaus.'

  Guardian Hero alongside I anxiously paced the ramparts of Argos' deserted citadel and saw nothing of Mycenae's bloodless taking. Thyestes viewed the approaching Host, armour gleam­ing in westering sunlight, counted more than a thousand men and considered the hundred-odd spears he commanded. He col­lected his family, including Pelopia and a son named Tantalus, and fled by a secret postern above Perseia's stream. They vanished in the mountains and were lost in evening dusk.

  Submissive Heroes opened the gates; Atreus strode to the palace, told Tydeus to man the watch-towers and post strong guards on the walls. He summoned to the Throne Room every nobleman in Mycenae - a handful had run with Thyestes - and extracted from the treasury Eurystheus' crown and sceptre. Under the wavering light of torches he seated himself on the throne, removed his helmet and donned the golden crown and proclaimed himself King of Mycenae, Tributary Lord of Tiryns, Nemea and Corinth and lesser cities under Mycenae's sway. The nobles loudly acclaimed him - Tydeus' Heroes, grimly alert, lined the Throne Room walls - and Daughters sanctified the ceremony by burning a lock of his hair.

  A son of Pelops ruled the realm that Perseus founded.

  Menelaus described all this at Argos the following day. Adrastus smilingly signified I was free to go where I would and loaded me with gifts - a gold two-handled cup, bronze three- legged cauldrons, jars of oil and seven fleeces. The cunning old rascal might well be generous: the tributes of Midea and Asine henceforth flowed to his store rooms. Including, I remembered sourly, those from my own demesnes.

  Driving back with Menelaus I broached a topic we had sedu­lously avoided - an unpleasantness tucked to the backs of our minds. 'Is our mother ... safe?'

  The road descended a slope in a series of bumpy shelves; Menelaus pulled to a walk and made a face. 'Thyestes refused to take her. Left her to face the music alone. The man's an abomination!'

  The gradient eased; Menelaus whipped the stallions to a trot. I said, 'Has Atreus seen her?'

  'No. She's confined to her apartments, allowed one servant to attend her wants, and a guard has been set on her door. No­body dares to mention her name to Atreus. I wouldn't either, if I were you. He has changed greatly, Agamemnon, very taut and grim, all the sparkle gone. Thyestes, by the way, is declared officially banished.'

  My brother had something else on his mind, some wretched news he could not nerve himself to tell. He made a business of guiding the horses round an insignificant pothole. I said, 'Come on, Menelaus. What's worrying you?'

  He flicked an imaginary fly from the offside stallion's quarter and said, 'You won't like this. Directly we ran from Mycenae Thyestes sent spearmen to sack your house and kill everyone inside. All your slaves are dead.'

  I hung on hard to the chariot rail. 'Clymene?'

  'Clymene also.'

  I could not speak. The rest of the drive has gone from my mind like frost in noonday sun. I remember at journey's end Mycenae's grey-gold walls, spearheads gemming the ramparts, a picture blurred in tears. I prefer not to dwell on my feelings. You might well deride such weakness: sensible men don't grieve for slaves; they are nothing but cattle and often less valuable. I will say only this: of all Thyestes' crimes it was sweet Clymene's killing which drove me to a vengeance that horrified the world.

  I found Atreus in the Throne Room; he was tense, unsmiling and very busy. 'A job for you, Agamemnon. Interrogate sur­vivors from Megara, and give me a casualty list - killed, miss­ing and prisoners. We must reconstitute the Host, replace dead men with sons or kindred, re-allot lands which have lost their lords, negotiate prisoners' ransoms. Adrastus wants his troops returned, and we can't have Mycenae defenceless.'

  'Have we so much time before the Heraclids attack?'

  'Do you think I'd be sitting here if Hyllus and his ruffians were pouring across the Isthmus? No. They haven't appeared in force. Raiders are savaging Corinth's fields, but the citadel's safe. No sign of a strong invasion - yet. They'll be back, so the sooner we recoup the better.'

  (It transpired that we gave the Heraclids so rough a handling before the Thebans sent us flying that King Aegeus of Athens, mourning losses, forbade his levy to advance beyond the battlefield. Hyllus was hot for invasion, the Scavengers indiffer­ent. After bitter disputes the troops dispersed. Hyllus left a detachment under Iolaus at Megara to harry Corinth; the rest of the Heraclids retired to Thebes.)

  Not a word did Atreus say about my mother, though the scandal itself was common knowledge - chamber-slaves learn everything, and you cannot stop them gossiping. He had vacated the Marshal's apartments and moved to the royal quarters: a splendid suite which occupied the topmost floor of a wing above the Great Court. I was told he went to Aerope only once - a short, low-voiced interview - and nobody knows what passed, or ever will. She stayed immured, invisible but somehow palpable, like a decaying corpse in an upper room whose stench pervades the house.

  I met Gelon, come from Rhipe with Diores, cataloguing oil jars in the palace store rooms, and enlisted his help. I cross-examined returned Heroes and Companions while Gelon noted their statements on papyrus sheets. Though much of the in­formation was sparse and confused - you don't see much in a fight but your enemy's threatening spear - I was able to tell King Atreus the losses were less than we feared. Roughly a third of the Host was either killed or enslaved; the remainder - Heroes, Companions and spearmen - eventually returned to their manors. In one way and another the king restored Mycenae's first-line strength, and the average age was younger - no bad thing.

  Atreus gave Menelaus his greaves, and land on the Argive border. He granted me a rich estate a short ride from the cita­del, and another demesne near Tiryns. 'You'll still have revenues from your Midean farms, but it's wrong for my suc­cessor - not for a long time yet, so take that smirk off your face - to hold only tributary lands. Incidentally, I haven't had a chance to discover what Eurystheus did wrong, and I want a detailed report.'

  During the hectic days that followed Atreus' enthronement I annexed Gelon as my personal Scribe (Rhipe ran like a well- greased wheel, and Diores declared him superfluous) and visited my new domains, listed animals, freemen and slaves, arable fields and pastures, manors, byres and ploughs, and calculated the annual production. Gelon conned the records he made and announced, 'You've become a wealthy gentleman, my lord. You own nine cattle herds, four of goats, ten droves of pigs and twelve flocks of sheep. I believe that only the king has more.'

/>   'We're all landowners, more prosperous or less,' I answered, 'and the king is simply the richest. Atreus has taken all Eurys­theus' demesnes, and his possesions must be ten times mine atleast. So they should be - otherwise why be king?'

  I gave Atreus, as commanded, my views on Megara's battle, emphasized the orderless approach march and the extraordin­ary - to me - conduct of the fighting. 'Is it really customary,' I inquired plaintively, 'for gentlemen to leave the field when they think they've won enough booty?'

  'Yes,' said Atreus. 'It is - but they're supposed to return to the conflict when they've disposed of it somewhere safe. Why else do Heroes fight? For honour, allegiance, glory, renown? Nonsense! Forget the ballads our bards recite - those songs depicting Heroes as they like to think they are: valiant, proud, magnificent. Fish-feet! Your average Hero at bottom is a rapacious, self-seeking, treacherous sod. The only sanction that controls him is the threat of losing his lands. So he'll follow his king on campaign, and make it a source of profit.'