by Hilary Green
I looked across and caught Alectryon’s eye. A tightening of his lips told me that the significance of the remark had not passed him by.
Kerkios had returned with the ship by this time and I asked him to have my sea-chest brought up so I could change my clothes. Cresphontes, rather to my surprise, had put on a tunic of fine cloth and a necklace of amber beads and I fancied he had even bathed. Guessing that this would be a suitable moment I opened my chest and presented him with a good bronze dagger, the handle covered in gold foil and decorated with lion’s heads. Among the treasures of my father’s palace it would scarcely have warranted a second glance, but he was clearly delighted with it.
I saw that Xouthos was watching me with hungry eyes and presented him with a gold ring. He took it greedily and I saw him examining the stone in it with great curiosity.
‘It is iron,’ I told him. ‘It is found in the thunderbolts flung by the gods, so it is very rare and has magical powers.’
Xouthos looked at me for a moment and then turned to Cresphontes and laughed. I began to wonder if he was as intelligent as his looks suggested.
As I fastened my chest again he leaned over to his prince and said something in a low tone. Cresphontes chuckled and said, ‘Xouthos is disappointed that the fight I proposed this morning between Count Alectryon and myself did not take place. He suggests instead a friendly contest between us and he, if it is not too presumptuous, would like to challenge you, Prince Alkmaion. What do you say?’
I glanced at Alectryon, who said quietly, ‘What sort of contest?’
‘Three rounds. A footrace, a wrestling match and a bout of swordplay – first man to draw blood to be the winner. How does that suit you? I’ll offer two good prizes. If the Prince can win two out of his three contests against Xouthos I’ll give him the fine pelt of a bear I killed last spring. It’ll keep you warm on the chilliest night, I can promise you. And if Count Alectryon can beat me in more than one bout I’ll give him a young bull from my own herd, which will make a feast for all your men and leave you with some valuable leather afterwards. What do you say? Is it agreed?’
I looked at Xouthos. He was a little younger than I was, I guessed, but in build we were much alike and he was clearly in hard training. We would be evenly matched. It would be hard to refuse without appearing cowardly. Once again I consulted Alectryon with a look and, rather to my surprise, he nodded.
I said, ‘It is agreed. And for my part I will offer a bronze cauldron if you can get the better of Alectryon and a dagger for Xouthos if he can beat me.’
‘Excellent!’ exclaimed Cresphontes. ‘The men will be delighted to have some sport to watch and I shall be glad of the chance to try myself against such a distinguished gentleman. When shall it be, then? Tomorrow, when the hottest part of the day is over?’
It was agreed and Alectryon remarked, ‘Have you among your warriors a man of good breeding who is a good marksman with a bow and arrow?’
‘I know of such a one,’ Cresphontes responded. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘Because Dexeus, my squire, is one of the best archers in Pylos. I should be interested to see if any of your men can beat him and I will offer a prize of half a talent of unworked bronze for the winner.’
Dexeus’s eyes sparkled. Alectryon had not over praised him. Young as he was, his skill with the bow was well known at home and he was delighted with the opportunity to display it here.
So the contest was decided and we suddenly began to feel like old friends and in this happy frame of mind we went out to join the feasting. Seated around a fire in the open space before the megaron we ate roast venison washed down with draughts of rough red wine. It seemed that the Dorians had no bards and knew nothing of the art of song but when the meal was over some of the young men got up to dance to the music of flute and drum. Their bodies moved supply in the firelight, stamping and turning. Soon Cresphontes and Xouthos rose to join them. Xouthos was a natural dancer, his movements strong and graceful, his eyes flashing with pleasure. We Messenians applauded warmly when the dance ended, and then, of course, they insisted that we show them a dance from our own country. Alectryon and I rose to dance the Heron Dance, and I do not think we did Messenia less than credit.
As Cresphontes led the way back into the hall he said, ‘I have had your squire’s couch and the captain’s moved out into the porch.’
Alectryon replied, ‘Then I think we will join them. It is very warm in here.’
Cresphontes looked at him in surprise. ‘As you wish. I thought you would prefer a little more privacy.’
I felt the dark blood rising in my face. Alectryon said stiffly, ‘There is no need.’
Cresphontes stared from his face to mine and a slow grin of disbelief spread across his face. ‘Do you mean you don’t … you’re not …?’ He let the words hang in the air, unfinished. I gazed into the embers on the hearth, unable to met Alectryon’s eyes.
‘Well, you Messenians are cold fish, I must say!’ Cresphontes commented at length. ‘It’s your choice of course. But, if the Prince will permit me the liberty,’ his eyes roved over me for a moment, ‘I do think it’s a terrible waste!’
Then he laughed and threw his arm about Xouthos’s shoulders and they both disappeared behind the curtains at the end of the room. I could feel Alectryon looking at me and occupied myself with slowly removing the bracelets and necklace I had put on for the feast. Ever since the night I had offered to share his bed I had been expecting some sign from him, but he had made no move.
After a pause he said, ‘Well, shall we take our couches out into the open?’
Before he had finished the question I was already dragging my bedding towards the door.
The next morning we retired once again to our secluded spot on the seashore to prepare for the coming contests, working off idle days on board ship, and too much food and wine the night before.
Alectryon said, ‘Watch out for Xouthos He’s the sort that gets carried away by his temper. It can be a serious weakness, but it could also make him very dangerous.’
By the time the sun had begun to slip towards the horizon the men of the village had assembled in the open space before the megaron. With them were the crew of our ship, who were just as eager for the sport. An open, flat stretch of ground ran between the huts towards the sea and a turning post had been set up at the far end for the footrace. The prizes which had been promised were set out on the porch and a fine young bull was tethered near-by.
The proceedings began, as was fitting, with offerings to the gods. Alectryon and I sacrificed to Poseidon, god of the sea and of bulls and fast horses, most powerful of the gods after the Great Mother Herself. I was surprised to see that Cresphontes and Xouthos sent up their prayers to Zeus and wondered why they gave allegiance to such a comparatively minor deity.
When the ceremonies were completed Cresphontes beckoned forward a man who carried a curious article of bronze, shaped somewhat like the horn of a bull. This he put to his lips and blew and a noise split the air that made all us Messenians jump almost out of our seats. It was clear and harsh like the wind from the mountains in winter, and rang about the village like the voice of a god.
Alectryon said, ‘Poseidon! What a terrifying sound!’
It was not until much later that we were to know the full terror of the trumpets of the Dorians.
When the noise had died away Cresphontes announced the order of the contests. My trial against Xouthos was to come first, then Dexeus would challenge the best archer in the village, and finally we would have the battle between himself and Alectryon. Meanwhile, I was loosening my muscles for the footrace and watching Xouthos. We were both stripped and I could see better how well muscled he was, but somehow he didn’t look like a runner. I wished there was someone else in the race to make the pace, since I knew nothing of his ability, but I resolved to let him lead on the outward leg.
We took our places on the starting line and I saw his green eyes flicker towards me. Lampadon and Kerkios, who had b
een chosen to act as umpires, took their places on either side of us and Lampadon gave the signal to start.
Xouthos went away fairly fast, which was just what I wanted, and I settled down on his heels. He flung a look over his shoulder and grinned. Did he think he had me beaten already? The pace slackened slightly, but I kept just behind, letting him make the running. Then coming towards the turning post he sprinted, hoping to get there well ahead of me and not be crowded on the turn. I kept exactly the same station as before and this time the look he threw me was puzzled, almost angry. I wondered how fast he was when he really stretched himself. We came round the post together and headed back towards the village. He glanced at me again and increased the pace. I did the same and drew level, telling myself the race was mine unless he could call upon an unexpected turn of speed. Seeing us coming in without a stride between us the spectators were on their feet, yelling with excitement. I decided the time had come to make my bid and went ahead. For a few paces he kept up with me, then I put on an extra spurt and he was gone. As I raced over the finishing line with the cheers of the ship’s crew in my ears I could not even hear his footsteps. He came in several yards behind and looking spent and I realised that he had run completely without tactics and had simply gone all out most of the way.
Alectryon ran up and congratulated me, while Dexeus brought a sponge full of water to wipe my face. Then they led me to a spot in the shade of the megaron to prepare for the next event. As Alectryon rubbed oil into my shoulders he said,
‘Right. You’ve beaten him in the running and he’s angry. He’ll be out to get his own back, and he won’t mind too much how he does it, so be careful. He’s at least up to your weight, and he’s a born fighter.’
I promised to take care but it was not until the wrestling match started that I really understood what he meant. The moment the signal was given to start Xouthos closed with me with a ferocity that took me off my guard and we both went down in the dust. This was something utterly different from the wrestling bouts I was used to at home. There the object was to display skill and polish. There was none of that here, only the intention to hurt as often and as much as possible. This reminded me less of a wrestling competition than of those silent and bloody scuffles I used to have with Antilochos when we were children.
Pain and humiliation roused the fighting spirit in me and I forgot the skills I had learned and fought him back in his own way. But by then it was too late, he had the advantage and in a few minutes I was pinned to the ground, my face in the dust and one arm twisted agonisingly into the small of my back. I was not sorry to hear Lampadon declare the contest over.
Alectryon greeted me with a wry smile. ‘You understand now what I meant?’
I nodded, angry and ashamed. He handed me a cup of water to rinse the dust out of my mouth and said kindly, ‘Don’t fret. It was a victory won without skill. At home he would have been howled out of the ring. And there is still the sword fight to come. The honours are even at the moment.’
I brightened at this. I was on my mettle now and Xouthos would not take me unawares this time. Dexeus brought my armour and Alectryon was about to help me into it when Cresphontes came over.
‘We fight without armour here, Prince,’ he said with a grin. ‘Put this on instead.’
‘This’ was a tunic of linen reinforced with panels of leather. It would be some protection against a glancing blow, but nothing more. I felt my stomach contract as I put aside my good bronze corselet. All that was required to win was to be the first to draw blood, but I remembered the blind ferocity with which Xouthos fought.
Alectryon clapped me on the shoulder and said, ‘Cheer up! You are an excellent swordsman. This will simply mean that you have to be doubly on your guard, that’s all.’ But his set face belied his confident words.
I took my long sword and gripped my round shield with its pointed boss and went out to meet Xouthos. He was looking triumphant and very full of himself. As soon as the signal to start was given he came at me, his sword flailing. This time I was ready for him and as I parried the blows I realised that he had no more finesse with the sword than he had at wrestling. I let him weary himself with vain attempts to get through my guard and suddenly found myself laughing at his efforts. This made him more furious than ever and I saw that in his frantic attempts to reach me he was forgetting to guard himself. I could hit him whenever I liked. I controlled the urge to lash out. His movements were so erratic that it would be easy to misjudge my thrust and I reckoned that it would not be politic to kill Cresphontes’s favourite. However, I decided that the time had come to abandon my defensive attitude. I saw Xouthos’s expression change as I came onto the attack, driving him back and back across the open space. From anger it turned to surprise and then to fear. He knew I could hit him wherever I wanted to and remembered, I fancy, how hard he had used me in the wrestling match. I spent a little time giving him a lesson in the finer points of swordsmanship, watching him get more and more desperate and waiting for my chance. He gave it to me perfectly in the end, with a wild slash that left his right arm extended and his shield in no position to cover it. My sword flashed in and laid open a long shallow cut on his upper arm. Anyone could see that I could have completely disabled him if I had wanted to. The blood began to run and Cresphontes leapt in at once and stopped the fight. I could see he had been worried too.
However, he presented me with the bearskin very graciously and congratulated me on my skill while Xouthos went off into a corner to staunch his wound and sulk. Then it was Dexeus’s turn to show his prowess.
Two staffs had been set up some distance down the running track and a captured wood pigeon was tied to each one by a foot so that it fluttered in the air in a vain attempt to get away. Dexeus took his bow and quiver and went to the centre of the ring, where he was joined by his opponent, a man perhaps twice his age who walked with a pronounced limp.
Each man was allowed three arrows. Dexeus’s first hit the staff, while his opponent’s passed so near the bird that it seemed he must have winged it; but it continued to flutter, unharmed. Then Dexeus’s second arrow struck his bird fairly so that it dropped and hung from the tether stone dead, while the other man’s last two shots were further from the mark than his first. So Dexeus walked off, highly delighted, with the prize.
The time had come for Alectryon to try his strength and skill against our host. As I helped him prepare Cresphontes came over and said,
‘Count, would you be agreeable to a slight change in our events? It has occurred to me that an exact repetition of those we have already seen may be boring for the spectators.’
Alectryon looked at him warily. ‘What do you have in mind?’
‘The foot race to begin, as we planned. Then, instead of simple wrestling, all-in fighting, no holds or punches barred, and the sword-fight to finish.’
It was easy to see what was in his mind. He hoped that the all-in fight would give him the opportunity of so disabling Alectryon that he would not be able to show himself at his best with the sword. I opened my mouth to bid Alectryon refuse but he silenced me with a touch and said, ‘Agreed, Prince, but with one further alteration. It seems to me that neither of us is likely to be at our best after the fight, so let us begin with the foot race, as planned, and then have the swordplay before the fight. Will that suit you?’
Clearly it did not suit Cresphontes at all but there was no way he could refuse, so he agreed with apparent indifference.
‘I don’t like it, Alectryon,’ I said, as soon as he was out of earshot. ‘You’ve seen the way they fight. You could be badly hurt.’
‘Don’t worry,’ he returned, with a grim smile. ‘I think I can give him as good as I get – particularly if I can wing him in the sword fight.’
So the contest began. There was never much doubt about the footrace. Cresphontes was heavier than Alectryon and nothing like so fleet of foot. He contented himself with not allowing Alectryon to get too far ahead and saved his strength for the other events.
Then came the sword fight. It did not look as though there was going to be much doubt about that either for it was clear that, although he was much more skilful than Xouthos, Cresphontes was no match for one of the best swordsmen in Pylos. However, he put up a good defence and Alectryon had to wait for his opportunity. I noticed that, more by sheer weight than skill, Cresphontes was forcing him back across the arena towards the megaron. Then I saw the reason. The bull that was tethered there had deposited a pile of dung. I cried out to Alectryon but it was too late. His foot slipped on the filthy stuff and while he was off balance Cresphontes’s sword caught him on the side of the neck. It was only a small cut, but Lampadon was quick to cry first blood to his prince.
My heart sank. I could not see Alectryon winning the next bout. Indeed, I was afraid for his safety, though I tried not to show it as I staunched the blood from the cut on his neck. He was angry at his bad luck, but amused as well at Cresphontes’s cunning. It was on the tip of my tongue to order him to call the whole thing off but I had a feeling that he would not obey me.
As they went out to meet for the final bout I noticed that Xouthos had stopped sulking and was lying on a sheepskin nearby, watching his lover with burning eyes. He looked up and for a moment understanding flashed between us. Then the fight began. To start with the spectators roared as they had done for all the other events. Then a silence settled over the whole crowd, for we were watching a battle of giants, a battle in which no mercy was asked or given. My heart seemed to be trying to tear itself free from my body as I watched them, now writhing in the dust, a tangle of twisted limbs and groping hands, now standing chest to chest while blows rained on heads and faces. Soon Alectryon’s face was streaked with blood and I could see one eye was half closed. Cresphontes was in no better shape. Blood trickled from his nose and every now and then he shook his head to get rid of it and bright drops flashed through the air and splashed heavily onto the ground. Both men’s backs bore long, red weals where the other’s fingers had sought for a hold. And still neither could get the better of the other and neither would give in.
