by Hilary Green
Another memory came back to me. ‘I killed Xouthos.’
‘Xouthos!’
‘We met in the battle. I would have spared him but he struck at me. He gave me this cut on my face. So I struck back and killed him.’
Alectryon was silent for a moment. Then he said grimly, ‘Well, at least Cresphontes has paid a price for his victory.’
We stood watching the light fade on the ravaged city. Then I jerked myself upright. On the distant hilltop I saw a flicker of flame. It grew quickly and spread.
Alectryon said, ‘Barbarians! They have fired the palace!’
The others joined us and we stood silent, watching the flames leap higher. In their light we could make out small dark figures running from the burning building, still carrying off the last items of booty.
My head swam suddenly. ‘Why, Alectryon? Why should they destroy the palace?’
He shook his head. ‘It may have been an accident. But I doubt if they would have wanted to preserve it. It would have meant nothing to them.’
Perimedes said, ‘Perhaps they are not going to stay after all. Maybe in the morning they will sail away.’ But none of us believed that.
One by one the others turned away but I stayed where I was and Alectryon stayed with me. At length I said, ‘What is it that is burning down there, Alectryon?’ I felt him look at me sharply, afraid I suppose that the shock had unseated my reason. I went on, ‘It is not just my father’s palace. Not only Nestor’s heritage. It is our life. All the things we have cared for – beauty and music and craftsmanship - all the sweet things of life. They will destroy them as they have destroyed the palace.’
He held me tightly. ‘For a while perhaps, here in this place. But these things will live on in other cities. Mycenae will not fall. Athens will survive. So long as we live these things will not die and we shall yet return to rebuild the palace and bequeath them to our children.’
I bowed my head and felt the hot tears running down my cheeks. We stayed there until the remains of the palace were just a glowing smudge on the darkness, and then turned back to the rest.
It was a disheartening sight. Amphidora and Thalamista sat clasped in each other’s arms, silent and trembling. Perimedes was weeping and Melanthos sat with his arm around him, grim-faced. His father, Andropompous, was missing, killed I presumed. Of all the Companionhood, only three remained. Antilochos sat apart from the others, gazing into the darkness and I wondered with momentary bitterness why he should have survived when so many other, better men had died. I could easily have followed Perimedes’s example, but Alectryon pressed my arm and said in my ear, ‘You are the King now. You must hearten them and help to plan our next move.’
I took a grip on myself and said aloud, ‘My friends, we must not give way to despair. There is still the army from the Further Province. We shall return with reinforcements when our enemies least expect it and drive them back into the sea. For now we must consider where to spend the night, and tomorrow we will head for Apeke.’
They roused themselves at that and gathered round me. Peisistratos said, ‘We must find somewhere for the women to shelter, and we all need food.’
Alectryon said. ‘Let me make a suggestion. My own estate is about an hour’s journey from here, towards the mountains. That should be far enough to put us out of harm’s way until tomorrow. Let us make our way there and rest for the night. In the morning as – the King - suggests, we will head for the Further Province.’
No one had any wish to argue with this plan, so we put the women into the chariots and set out. Before the road turned the shoulder of the hill I stopped and looked back at the faint glow that was all that remained of the palace where, for a few brief moments, I had sat upon the throne of my forefathers.
The beat of hooves on the road behind us brought us all to a standstill, swords drawn. A single horse galloped round the bend and the rider flung himself off the nearly foundering beast. As he did so I recognised Hoplomenos, one of my father’s Companions. He ran forward and fell on his knees before me, catching my hand.
‘My lord, they told me you were safe but I could not believe it until I saw you! Praise be to Enyalios the War-God for preserving you!’
I said, ‘And praise be to Him for preserving you, Hoplomenos. I thought all the Royal Companions were dead except these few.’
He kissed my hand and rose. ‘I fear most of the rest are dead, my lord, killed in the fighting around your father’s body. I survived only because a blow on the head knocked me unconscious. When I came round the fighting was over. One of our men told me that you had been crowned before the palace fell, so I found a horse and set out to seek you. A peasant on the road told me he had seen you pass.’
His words recalled to my mind how grievously I had fallen short of my duty in one respect.
‘My father’s body, Hoplomenos! It was left on the battlefield.’
Another of the survivors stepped forward. ‘No, my lord. We brought him back to the palace and the priests attended to him while we searched for you. There was no time to bury him but the offerings have been made.’
‘Then his body is in the hands of the barbarians,’ I said.
Alectryon put in quietly, ‘It is likely that it was burnt in the fire which destroyed the palace.’
I bit my lip. ‘I wish I could believe that!’
We went on along the dark road. A rustle and a cracking of twigs made us suspect an ambush but it was only another small group of fugitives, including two officers from the army, who had heard us coming and hidden among the trees. When we reached the farm at last we found Alectryon’s steward and some of the farm workers waiting at the gate. The rest had already fled into the hills.
Alectryon said quietly, ‘My brother?’
The steward shook his head. ‘We have not seen the lord Nequeus. I hoped he was with you.’
Alectryon shook his head and I said, ‘He may yet turn up. We have seen there are survivors.’
He took a deep breath and swallowed, then began to give orders for food to be prepared and beds made up. We sent two of his men to watch the road and then my tattered band of followers collapsed wherever they could find space to sit or lie, either in the main hall of the house or on the porch outside. I sank into a chair and closed my eyes. My head was swimming and images of the battle flickered behind my eyelids. Someone put bread and meat in front of me but I lacked the energy to eat it. Then Andria appeared at my side, a steaming cup in her hand.
‘Take some of this, my lord. You must eat.’
It was a posset of milk and eggs, sweetened with honey. She fed it to me sip by sip and I felt a little strength returning.
Alectryon’s steward bowed before me. ‘There is hot water for my lord to bathe.’
Hardly conscious, I stumbled after him and allowed Andria to strip off my clothes. It was only then that I realised that my whole body was covered in a filthy mixture of sweat and dust and dried blood, though whether this last was my own or that of other men I could no longer tell. I winced as the water found still open wounds or Andria’s gently sponging uncovered livid bruises, but it was some comfort to be clean again.
When I was dry she came and knelt beside me with a small bundle of cloth in her hands. I looked at it dully.
‘What have you got there?’
She unwrapped it, saying, ‘I brought what I thought my lord would most wish to preserve.’
I saw that the bundle held all those things which were most precious to me:- the circlet my father gave me on my return from Cresphontes’s village; the golden cup which had belonged to Odysseus; an inlaid dagger bequeathed to me by old Peisistratos; a ring Alectryon had given me on my name day; and the gold necklace I had taken from her own father. I touched them one by one and then leaned forward and kissed her.
‘Thank you, Andria.’
Alectryon came in and I saw that he, too, had bathed and put on a clean woollen robe. I showed him the treasures Andria had managed to preserve and he drew from his fi
nger a ring that I instantly recognised.
‘One of the Companions took this from your father’s hand and asked me to give it to you.’
I took it and slipped it onto my own finger. For the first time I began to comprehend the fact that I should never see my father again and my throat constricted.
‘I never really knew him, Alectryon,’ I murmured. ‘Was that my fault?’
‘No,’ he said gently. ‘He was the King. That was all any of us could know. But he loved you dearly.’
I nodded speechlessly and he said, ‘You must sleep now, if only for a few hours.’
I let him lead me to the bedroom we had shared so often in the past and sank stiffly onto the bed. He drew the coverlet over me and then, through the mists of encroaching sleep, I was aware that he was hesitating. After a brief pause I heard him say, ‘Goodnight, my lord.’
I opened my eyes again. He was standing over me with the lamp in his hand, as he had stood a year ago when I took refuge in his bed after my escape from the Holy Mountain. Suddenly I was overwhelmed by an almost unbearable sadness. After one short year, was this to be the end of our relationship as well as everything else? The tears I had been holding back since the burning of the palace welled up into my eyes and I whispered hoarsely, ‘In the name of all the Gods, forget all that and come to bed!’
He blew out the lamp then, slipped into bed beside me and took me in his arms. I was asleep almost at once.
Alectryon woke me at dawn, after what felt like no more than a few minutes. The hall, when we descended, was a shambles. Some of those who had fled with us were awake, pale and hollow-eyed. Others slept where they had fallen, still coated in the filth of battle. All were swathed in bloodstained bandages. Amidst the chaos Alectryon’s faithful steward and a few servants were passing round bread and milk and mulled wine.
One of the watchers we had posted on the road ran into the hall. ‘My lord, a chariot! Coming this way!’
‘Only one?’ Alectryon asked sharply. When he received an affirmative answer we went out to the gate. As we appeared the driver of the chariot whipped his tired horses into a gallop but it was not until he drew up in the courtyard that we were able to recognise him through the dust and the mask of dirt and blood that concealed his face.
‘Aikotas!’ Alectryon exclaimed.
He was one of the Royal Companions who had followed Perephonios into the palace courtyard to oppose Cresphontes while I escaped. He almost fell out of the chariot and collapsed at my feet, crying, ‘You must fly, my lord! Already they are looking for you. But I beseech you, have someone care for Perephonios.’
It was only then that we realised that there was another man slumped in a pool of blood on the floor of the chariot. I gave orders and two men lifted him out and carried him indoors.
While Andria tended Aikotas’s wounds he described, in disjointed phrases, how Perephonios had fallen in the first onslaught and how he had stood over his body until he was himself overpowered and taken prisoner. Later that night, when the Dorians were too drunk and too intent on plunder to notice, he had managed to escape and had made his way back to the courtyard to find his friend.
‘But the palace was on fire,’ I said.
‘The buildings were burning, yes,’ he agreed. ‘But it was still possible to get into the courtyard. I couldn’t leave him to burn!’
I remembered then that they had been lovers at one time.
‘Were there other survivors held prisoner?’ I asked. ‘Any other Companions?’
He shook his head. ‘I think no more of the Companionhood survived, my lord. All those who lived to bring your father’s body off the battle field perished in the palace, except those few who came to escort you to safety.’
‘Any others?’ I pressed him.
He dropped his head. ‘There were survivors among those who held land from your father. As soon as the palace fell all resistance ceased and then some of those great ones came to Temenos to sue for peace. Temenos greeted them with reassuring words, promising them their lives and their lands. By dawn he was absolute master of Pylos.’
I turned away and ground out, ‘They shall see how well it paid them to betray me when I return!’ But the words were hollow and fell into a hollow silence.
Aikotas said, ‘They are seeing already. Temenos spoke them fair but he has little control over his men. They have plundered and destroyed every great house and every craftsman’s workshop. Even the tombs have been broken open and the grave goods carried off.’
I turned with a stifled cry to stare at him. All around me I heard the same sharp sounds of incredulous distress. No one spoke. This was beyond words. I walked away from them to the door, scarcely able to control the flood of anger and despair rising within me.
In the silence that followed Peisistratos, who had gone to help tend Perephonios, came back into the hall.
‘He is dead,’ he said quietly.
Aikotas gave a sob and buried his head in his hands. ‘He lived until this morning!’ he cried. ‘Why could I not have found him sooner?’
Alectryon laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘You did all you could. At least he lived long enough to know that you came back for him.’
One of the servants came in. ‘The horses are harnessed, sir.’
Alectryon straightened up. ‘We must go. No doubt the peasants who directed our friends here will be equally quick to inform our enemies.’
I said sharply, ‘We must bury Perephonios first.’
‘Of what use is it to bury him, even if we had time?’ Alectryon exclaimed. ‘The Dorians have no respect for tombs.’
‘We cannot leave him,’ I said obstinately. ‘If we cannot bury him then we will burn his body, as my father’s body was burnt in the ruins of the palace.’
He opened his mouth to argue and I turned on him abruptly and met his eyes.
‘It is my command!’
For a moment we looked at each other. Then he bent his head. ‘As my lord wishes.’
I knew then that something had changed for good in our relationship, but I told myself that I would make it right with him later – when there was more time.
While the pyre was being prepared we made our final arrangements for the journey. Every farm cart and every horse was brought into service, as well as the chariots. The women and the more severely wounded were to travel in the slower vehicles, escorted by the remnant of our fighting men under the command of Peisistratos, while I went ahead with Neritos and Alectryon and the remaining members of the Royal Companions. As we were making these dispositions I saw the boy Thaleus approach Alectryon and experienced a pang of guilt at the recollection that I had hardly spoken to him since the day he had come to us begging for refuge and revenge.
‘Count,’ he said, ‘may I ask a favour of you?’
Alectryon paused in what he was doing with his unfailing courtesy and replied, ‘Of course, Prince Thaleus. I will do whatever is in my power.’
‘You have lost your charioteer?’
‘Dexeus, yes.’ His face shadowed.
‘Will you take me in his place?’ Then, as Alectryon looked taken aback, ‘I can handle a chariot, I promise you. In Ithaca I often won races against older men than myself.'
‘I don’t doubt your ability, prince,’ came the reply. ‘But it would not be fitting for me to take as my charioteer the son of Persepolis of Ithaca.’
‘Please, Count!’ The boy’s eyes shone with passionate supplication. ‘I was not allowed to fight in the battle for my city, or yesterday for Pylos. I have no chariot or horses of my own, but if there is to be another battle you Messenians will need every man you can get. You must have a charioteer. Let it be me, I beg you!’
Alectryon hesitated a moment longer, then he nodded. ‘Very well, until this battle is won, you shall have your wish. Then we must find a more fitting solution.’
‘You will not regret it, I swear to you!’ the boy exclaimed and hurried off to check the harnessing of Alectryon’s horses.
&nb
sp; When the pyre was ready and the body of Perephonios laid upon it I performed the necessary offerings and cut a lock of my hair to throw upon the flames. Aikotas and the others followed suit, but we could not wait for the body to be consumed. Alectryon had been fretting to be away for some time but as we moved towards the chariots I saw him stop and turn back to look at the house. A lump swelled in my throat at the memory of the happy days and nights we had spent there and I went over and laid a hand on his shoulder.
‘We shall return, my dear.’
‘But what shall we find?’ he asked softly.
‘Whatever we find, it can be put right – once we have driven these barbarians out.’
He drew a deep breath and laid his hand briefly over mine. ‘Yes, you are right. We must go.’
The horses were still weary from the day before but we made the best speed we could towards Leuktron. Nevertheless, the news of our defeat had got there before us and we began to pass parties of refugees, heading for the mountains. As we swept into the courtyard of the palace the Governor, Teposeu, came running to greet us and fell on his knees to kiss my hand.
‘Teposeu?’ I exclaimed. ‘Why are you not with the army at Apeke?’
He rocked on his knees like a man in pain, his eyes on the ground. ‘My lord, my lord – there is no army.’
‘What?’ I glanced around me. Many of the townspeople had followed and were milling about just inside the gates. I jerked Teposeu to his feet. ‘Come inside.’
When the rest of my people had followed us into the megaron and the doors were shut I turned on Teposeu.
‘What do you mean, there is no army?’
‘My lord, when the news of your defeat and of the King your father’s death arrived this morning, the men mutinied. We gave the order to march for Pylos and they refused. Some of the officers who tried to force them were killed. The rest and a few men who remained loyal returned here with me.’
‘A few? How many?’
‘A handful, my lord. No more.’
I looked round. Melanthos sagged against the doorpost, his face ashen. Neritos had turned his back. Alectryon sank down on a bench and put his head in his hands. In some strange way their despair gave me strength.
