by Hilary Green
I forced a smile and said, ‘They ask a great price then, if it is indeed their favour which guides my fate – my father’s life and my ancestral palace.’
He raised his brows. ‘They asked a great price of Achilles, too. First his friend Patroclos. Then his own life.’
I was silent for a moment. Then I said, ‘Let them ask my life also, if need be. But I pray them not to require my friend of me.’
I should have been glad of his embrace at that moment, but he touched my arm lightly and looked away.
I said, ‘You are troubled about something.’
He shrugged. ‘These are not joyful times for any of us.’
‘But you have no special sorrow – something I don’t know about?’
He turned away. ‘None, my lord.’
Tisamenos sent his ambassadors out as he had promised and I waited impatiently for their return. Each one brought the same reply. In every part of the Achaean world, and beyond, there was unrest. Hostile peoples were gathering on the borders, there were rumours of further invasions from the north, trade and communications were being disrupted, hasty fortifications thrown up or existing ones improved. Each ruler promised a contingent for the great army to be assembled in the spring, but with each promise came the same proviso – the size of the contingent would have to depend on conditions around their own borders. ‘We dare not leave our cities undefended’ was the burden of every answer.
I was always invited to be present when the ambassadors reported to the King and I made my way to the megaron with particularly high hopes when the embassy from Athens arrived. There had always been good relations between ourselves and the Athenians. In fact, my family was connected to the royal house of Athens, since my uncle Andropompous had married an Athenian princess. The ambassador’s answer was a sad disappointment. Not only was Athens embroiled in a dispute with the neighbouring Boetians but she was split by internal dissension as well. The King, Thymoetes, was old and had never, the ambassador implied, had a very firm grip on his kingdom. His sons were unruly and ambitious and each was engaged in trying to establish a faction strong enough to drive his father from the throne. To so low a state had the House of Theseus sunk!
The ambassador from Athens asked me for news of Andropompous, who had visited Athens on a number of occasions. When I told him that he had been killed defending Pylos but that his son, Melanthos, was alive and in Mycenae the ambassador begged to be introduced to him. Melanthos had recovered from his wound, except for a slight limp he would never completely lose, and was glad to meet his father’s old friend. During the ambassador’s stay they spent a good deal of time together.
The Athenian went home, but not long after he returned at the head of a second delegation, all of them men of rank and influence. They came, they said, to assure Tisamenos of their continuing loyalty but their reasons seemed to me hardly strong enough to warrant the trouble of another journey. It was not until later that I realised this was only a pretext. Two days after their arrival Melanthos came to me and begged a private audience. He seemed troubled and clearly did not know how to begin.
At length he said, ‘Royal lord, I come to seek your advice.’
Advice was something I scarcely felt qualified to give Melanthos, whose wisdom I had always respected and whose experience was greater than mine by several years. However, I invited him to tell me his problem. He frowned, searching for words.
‘You know that I have been a great deal in the company of the Athenian delegation. Are you aware of how things stand in Athens?’
I told him what I knew, or had deduced from the ambassador’s words.
He nodded. ‘It is so, but there is more. There are a number of powerful men in Athens who have no love for any of the sons of Thymoetes, whom they regard as dissolute, contentious and altogether unfit to rule. Also they can see that if Athens cannot be united under a strong ruler she may fall prey to the Boetians, or if not to them to the Dorians. Therefore they have for some time had it in mind to choose a man who might provide that rule and, by their united power, to drive Thymoetes and his sons from the throne and replace them with their own candidate. However, the plan so far has come to nothing because they cannot agree among themselves who should be king. Now,’ he paused awkwardly, ‘they have made a certain proposal to me. It seems the House of Neleus commands respect, even in Athens. Also, my mother was of Athenian royal blood and my father was well thought of. They have said that if I will go with them to Athens they will place me upon the throne of the Theseids. The old king has a daughter, Idomeneia, a girl of seventeen who is, they tell me, beautiful and of a modest and gentle nature quite unlike her brothers. They will marry me to her to give the change some colour of legitimacy.’
He fell silent and I strove to order my thoughts.
‘What have you told them, Melanthos?’
‘I have said that I must first consult you. I am after all your liegeman – at least until such time as I achieve the throne of Athens. Also, I am loath to leave you at such a time. But it seems to me that if I can succeed in uniting the Athenians and defeating the Boetians I shall then be able to bring the full strength of Athens to join with our other allies in driving out the Dorians.’
I nodded slowly, trying to think clearly and not be carried away by a sudden impulse of enthusiasm. ‘Very well, then. You have my permission and my good wishes for the attempt, though I shall miss you sorely. But there is a higher permission than mine that you must obtain. Have you yet consulted the wish of the Goddess?’
He shook his head. ‘This must be my next task. I have it in mind, if you will permit it, to travel to Delphi and consult the Pythia. It is said that she can most clearly read the will of the Goddess as to the future of a man. I will abide by her decision.’
I agreed that he should do this, giving out that he went on my behalf to ask the favour of the Goddess for our expedition in the spring. As he rose to leave I laughed suddenly and put my hand on his shoulder.
‘Do you remember, I said you would make a good king, and you answered ‘No kingdoms for me!’? Now we shall be brother monarchs.’
He smiled. ‘If the Gods permit, my lord.’
Melanthos set off for Delphi a few days later and returned in due course to tell me that the priestess who served the sacred snake had given him a favourable answer. The Athenian ambassadors returned home to make ready for his arrival and he prepared, with great circumspection, to follow them. We gave out that he had been promised an estate in Attica, through his mother’s family. It made him appear less than loyal to me, for which I grieved, but we dared not let his true purpose be known.
One thing disturbed me in connection with his imminent departure. I had noticed that Cometes had been paying a good deal of attention to Melanthos’s sister, Amphidora. It seemed to me that Tisamenos would be looking for a better alliance for his eldest son than the daughter of a junior branch of a family which, though illustrious, was now without either lands or power. Yet I could not hint to him of Melanthos's hopes. Accordingly I decided to sound him on the matter. He listened gravely and answered,
‘I must thank you, Alkmaion, for bringing this matter before me. I too have noticed my son’s interest in your cousin and I have already spoken to him about it. Firstly I have told him that he is too young to think of marriage for a year or two. Secondly, I have suggested that it would be – unwise – to ask Amphidora, or her brother and yourself, to make a decision on such a matter while the fortunes of her family are so much in the balance. He has agreed to let matters stand as they are until next summer, when the outcome of our next attempt against the Dorians will be known.’
I knew well enough that Amphidora herself would find no difficulty in coming to a decision. I could not tell if she loved Cometes but she was certainly enormously flattered by his attentions. She would agree at once. But I understood what Tisamenos was saying. He could not afford to permit the marriage until I was reinstated as King of Pylos. I told him I thought his decision very wise an
d promised to see that Amphidora knew of it. In the circumstances, it suited us very well.
Melanthos set sail from Argos a few days later, leaving his sister in my care until such time as he felt it was safe to send for her. It grieved me to see him go, for I both loved and trusted him and I knew, as he did, that he was undertaking a very dangerous enterprise. Before he left he promised me once again that if he was successful I should have an Athenian army at my back next spring.
Before winter finally interrupted communications I had a message to say that he had arrived safely but must now wait for his opportunity to move. He added that he had found Messenian refugees in Athens, all of whom were overjoyed to learn that I had survived the battle and sent me their humblest respects.
Autumn came. I began to be almost reconciled to my life in Mycenae. The King’s hospitality was generous and, as soon as the city had recovered from the battle, various entertainments were arranged for us. There was hunting and games and feasting and music. My followers, too, began to settle down and I found myself surrounded by a loyal band, not only of Pylians but of young Myceneans who sought my company and acknowledged my leadership. My apartments in the palace became a regular meeting place for all the livelier spirits in the city, but perhaps as a result of this I began to notice a less friendly attitude in Tisamenos's eldest son, Cometes.
There was something more pressing on my mind during those long days of waiting. In spite of his promise, I could feel that Alectryon and I were growing apart. He waited on me daily and was seldom far from my side, but we had no time to be alone together. I could no longer take it into my head to go off hunting or riding with no one but him and our two squires. Nor could I slip out of the palace at night to visit him. My sudden, unannounced arrival at the house of his host would have caused too much confusion. In the same way, he could not come to me without running the gauntlet of sentries and chamberlains. Sometimes I sent for him, but this made our lovemaking seem contrived and unspontaneous. In bed, as always, he was ardent and tender, but I felt a sense of restraint in him, as if he was afraid of overstepping some self-imposed limit. He no longer teased me or tried to make me laugh. What was perhaps more significant, he no longer argued with me. I longed for the old days when we had been so easy together, but somehow I could not find a way of getting back to them. Moreover, his normal light-heartedness seemed to have deserted him. There had always been a deep-seated gravity in his nature, which his humour only overlay, like gold foil on a base of polished stone. Now the bright surface was gone, except for occasional flashes, worn away by the experiences of the past months; by the deaths of his brother and Dexeus, perhaps; and by something else that I could not yet define.
One evening, soon after the celebration of the autumn equinox, Penthilos sought me out and told me that Antilochos had asked for Myrtilis’s hand in marriage. I was not altogether surprised, for it had been apparent for some time that he was paying court to her and I had the impression that Erigone, her mother, was encouraging the match. What the girl herself felt there was no way of telling, since she was so shy she hardly ever spoke in company. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell Penthilos that I thought she deserved something better, but Antilochos had done nothing blameworthy since we arrived and I felt it would be unjust to poison Penthilos’s mind with my personal dislike. So I gave my consent to the match.
I was worried about the effect this might have on Alectryon. In recent times he seemed to have paid less and less attention to Myrtilis, but I had occasionally caught him looking at her with eyes narrowed as if with pain. On the day after my conversation with Penthilos I sent for him and suggested that we should walk together on the hills above the city. Winter was coming and dark bands of cloud edged the horizon. I told hm of Myrtilis’s betrothal.
He withdrew his eyes slowly from the distance and looked at me. ‘I had expected it.’
I said, ‘Poor girl. She deserves a better fate.’
He made a sudden movement, turning his face from me.
I gripped his arm. ‘What is it? Are you ill?’
He shook his head quickly, keeping his face averted. I knew then that my suspicions were correct.
‘You love her?’
He took a step or two from me, then turned, composed again. ‘Yes.’
‘But, man, why have you let her go? Why don’t you speak to her? She cannot prefer Antilochos to you.’
He looked into my eyes. ‘Would you have me do so?’
I stared at him. ‘You have not held back for my sake?’
‘Should I not have done?’
‘Do you think me so selfish?’
He turned away again and heaved a deep sigh. ‘Well, I did not hold back. I have spoken to her.’
‘And she rejected you?’ I was incredulous.
‘No.’
‘No? Then why …?’
He came back to me. ‘She loves me. She has told me so. But she will do nothing other than what her mother orders. And her mother wishes her to marry Antilochos.’
‘But this is ridiculous!’ I exploded. ‘What can her mother hope to gain by marrying her to Antilochos? He has no more wealth or power than you in our present situation. Your breeding is as good, or almost, and for nobility, looks, natural gifts you are as far above him as the sky is above the earth.’
He gave me a small, wistful smile. ‘Thank you. I’m flattered. But it’s quite useless. Erigone is a woman of extraordinary powers. Her hold over Myrtilis is amazing. I believe the poor child is terrified of her. And Erigone, for some reason, has chosen Antilochos.’
‘Well,’ I said obstinately, ‘what she decides may not be the last word. I shall forbid the match. As my liege man Antilochos cannot marry without my consent.’ I smiled at him and put my hand round the back of his neck. ‘Be comforted, my dear. You shall have your Myrtilis.’
He gripped my wrist. ‘No, Alkmaion. I beg you, don’t do it!’
‘Why?’ I cried in amazement.
‘For many reasons. First, even if you should forbid the marriage to Antilochos, Myrtilis will not marry me. I have told you, she is terrified of displeasing her mother. Secondly, it would be an open slight to Antilochos, which he would not be able to tolerate. He would undoubtedly try to stir up feeling against you – and he has his own friends in Mycenae who are not yours. Thirdly, I am afraid to think what revenge Erigone might contrive against you, against me, and worst of all against Myrtilis.’
I stared at him helplessly. ‘Then there is nothing I can do to help you?’
‘Nothing.’ He withdrew my hand from his neck and pressed his lips into the palm and I felt a sudden wrench of anguish, but whether for him or for myself I could not be sure.
I made him sit down with me on a rock and tell me the whole story of his love. For once I forgot the duties which might have called me back to the city and did all I could to cheer him, but I knew that there was a part of his heart which I could no longer reach.
That night, for the first time, I took Andria to my bed.
Chapter 14.
The months of winter passed. The city was loud with the noise of building. Apart from the construction of the Grand Staircase and the repairs to the fire-damaged section of the palace, Penthilos had been given permission to carry out his projects. The first priority was given to the extension of the wall in the northeast so that the whole hilltop was encircled, and the construction of a secret tunnel to reach the spring of Perseus. I was fascinated by the whole process and spent much time accompanying Penthilos and his architect around the sites. In this way I learned much that was to be useful to me in later years.
For the most part I tried to keep my mind away from the Dorians and the coming struggle, but one evening I could not conceal my fears any longer and asked Penthilos what he thought the chances were of our mustering an army large enough to drive them out.
He shook his head uneasily. ‘Who can say? Conditions are not the same as they were when Agamemnon summoned the Achaeans to sail against Troy. Then men t
hought their cities secure. When they returned after ten long years they found in many cases that their security was an illusion. The Achaeans won the war, but they paid a high price for victory. Too many of the real leaders died. Too many women lost sons and husbands. Too many kings returned to find treason and rebellion at home. Most people are not anxious for a repetition of that. With unrest all around they have a good excuse for holding back. But I may be mistaken. Perhaps they will come.’
‘And if not?’ I asked.
‘If not,’ he responded heavily, ‘I think it will not be long before the Dorians have us all cooped up in our walled cities. They will not be able to get in and we shall not be able to drive them away.’
I looked at him. ‘That is a grim prospect. What is the answer?’
He shook his head again. ‘I don’t know –except for this. There are many lands and islands between here and Asia, or towards the west. I would prefer to take ship with a company of followers and found a colony somewhere we could take root in peace. But of course I cannot leave while I am still needed here.’
Mid-winter came, and we performed the rites appropriate to the season. I had ordered to be constructed a shrine where we could make offerings to the Lady of Pylos and here I carried out as best I could the sacred duties of a king. It was here that I felt most keenly the separation which kingship made between me and my friends. As the earthly consort of the Goddess I was set apart from ordinary men and must keep myself free from all defilement. There were times when the daily ritual hung heavily upon me. I began to understand the air of separateness which had enveloped my father and kept everyone, even myself, at a distance. Alectryon might still have found a way of speaking to the man without encroaching on the dignity of the king, but he was silent and withdrawn these days. Neritos now called me ‘My lord’ and lowered his eyes before my gaze and my Companions asked my permission before speaking.
The day came for the marriage of Antilochos and Myrtilis. On the evening before I resolved to make a last attempt to save her for Alectryon. I sent for her, and using my royal prerogative, dismissed everyone else so that we were alone. She sat before me, eyes downcast, visibly trembling.
