“I think she’s waiting for our father to return.”
“Is that what you think? She has kept the power of Mycenae for herself, instead of giving it to you. I’d rather you were on the throne than Agamemnon. I’d force him to stay away if it kept you in power. But your mother … now there’s a puzzle. I can’t unseat her. She’s my flesh and blood. Neither will she reason with me. If she is waiting for Agamemnon, it’s only to kill him. After that, who knows? And that is what concerns me.”
“Do you honestly believe that?” Orestes asked, shocked by his grandfather’s candor.
“Clytemnestra is devious and determined. Never forget that about your mother. She won’t allow anyone to take the power she’s grown accustomed to. I know I would not.” The king sighed wistfully. “If only she were a man.”
“What should I do? What is your advice?”
“Kill her bastards.” Tyndareus leaned forward on the couch, his stoic gaze piercing Orestes’ insecurities. “Then, kill her and take the throne for yourself. That is, if Agamemnon does not return. If he does, he’ll kill her himself. And you can leave him to me.”
“I was not expecting—”
“What? Such a drastic solution to your problem?”
“But, I didn’t say I had a problem with my mother—”
“Of course you do. Or why else would you come to see a young girl you’ve no interest in marrying?”
Orestes opened his mouth, but Tyndareus shook his head. He already knew the excuses his grandson would utter. Weren’t they all the same in the end? “Do as I advise and you’ll be happier and safer.”
“Safer? From my mother?”
“Aye. Make no mistake, Orestes, she will stop at nothing to carry out whatever plan she has devised. And since she has not shared it with you, you can be assured it works against you.”
TROY
Greek Encampment
FIFTEEN, gods and dreams
1238 BCE
Agamemnon woke with start. Had it all been simply a dream? Or was it more? He slid his weary body from his bed, tossing the linens over the naked woman beside him. He glanced down at her. She was no Briseis. He couldn’t even recall her name. He’d pleasured himself with her body several times before the restlessness within calmed. This night, he thought, I take Achilles’ woman as my own.
He poured a cup of watered wine and sat heavily into his chair. This dream. What is the meaning? “Boy!” he hollered gruffly. “Boy!”
A young man scurried in, disheveled and wide eyed. “My lord?”
“Call the heralds and my generals,” Agamemnon ordered.
In a blink, the boy disappeared. The Great King’s mind raced with images of Nestor directing him to waste no more time and attack the Trojans. The end is near. His heart pounded furiously. Nine years. Nine. He slipped his leather sandals on, secured his belt and sword, and fastened his crimson cape around his shoulders. He strode from his tent, his bronze cuirass blinking in the early morning light, walking as tall as a god. As he passed the rows of men, they bowed their heads to him. His heart swelled with thoughts of final victory. Mine. Troy shall be mine. Zeus has shown me the way.
When all his war chiefs gathered around his table in the royal pavilion, he signaled the slaves to serve them wine and warm bread. They broke their fast at his behest. No one asked about Achilles’ empty chair or the bench beside it where Patrokles kept his cousin’s council. The clash between the Great King and the Myrmidon commander had struck discord throughout the army. Some sided with Agamemnon, but the masses sided with Achilles, secretly bemoaning Agamemnon’s greed.
Outside of the tented meeting, nine heralds awaited their orders to address the horde. They shifted nervously on their feet, eager to run like the wind with the king’s words. Within, the captains grew anxious, wondering what Agamemnon believed so important.
Odysseus, eager to get on with it, finally asked, “Why are we here?”
Agamemnon flashed a rare smile from beneath his heavy beard. “I had a dream from Zeus. It concerns us all.”
Murmurs and questions swirled around the table.
“How so?”
“Tell us.”
“Do not keep us in suspense.”
The Great King raised his silver cup, calling for quiet. “The mighty Father came to me as Nestor.” He gestured to his loyal counselor. “And told me the gods had ceased their bickering, calling a truce among them. He urged me now was the moment to strike at Priam and bring Troy to ruin. He promised this would be the beginning of our great victory. When the dream was over, I slept as peaceful as a newborn sucking at its mother’s tit.”
Telemonian Ajax smashed his fist on the table, sending war markers flying from their strategic points on the huge, leather map. “We are finally going to take that accursed city.”
Agamemnon nodded, still smiling. “You will be the one the troops look to for courage since the Myrmidons remain withdrawn.”
Odysseus shook his head, knowing what it meant to battle without the Myrmidons. “There is only one way to appease Achilles.”
The Great King frowned. “Is he king of this horde, or am I? There can be no truce if he continues refusing my authority. Let Achilles and his Myrmidons rot for all I care. We have men enough to defeat the Trojans. And we have Zeus on our side. How can we lose?”
“My lord, think of the men,” Odysseus implored.
“No more talk of Achilles. He has made his choice. But first I will test the men’s resolve. I must know they are truly with me, or we cannot win. Stand your ground so I may know their true hearts.”
Nestor laid his hands on the table. “My king, do you believe that wise? The years … surely, if anyone else had claimed a dream from Zeus, we’d not believe it. As king you are closer to the gods than any man here. But, tempting the men, now, after nine long years?”
Agamemnon bristled at the implication. “Do you think that without Achilles the men will not fight for me? Their king?”
Odysseus sneered behind his hand. “On this, I agree with Nestor. It is risky to dangle their dream before them, expecting they will not grab it.”
The Great King stood, laying his hands on the table. “I will hear no more. Zeus has spoken to me and, if the gods are for me, then no mortal man may stop me.” He eyed the captains gathered around him. “You have followed me this far. Obey me in this.” He signaled his servant. “Boy, tell the heralds to call the army to the far field.” Agamemnon marched out of the pavilion with his captains falling in behind him.
Thousands of soldiers swarmed the field before the Great King’s dais, the ground quaking and groaning as they marched to hear the king. Rumors swirled in the early morning, winging words of home and the end of war. Heart-sick of war, they prayed the rumors to be true, to hear it from their king’s own mouth they were bound for home. The heralds quieted the crowd, and soon an eerie silence spread across the sea of men.
Agamemnon, encouraged by their eagerness, believed that for the first time the men honored him. With Achilles out of the way, the men had finally turned to their rightful leader. He raised his hands, holding high the king’s scepter. “Zeus has tricked me,” he said. A rumble of confusion spread across the crowd. “Zeus bowed his head to me that we would bring the Trojan walls to rubble. That we’d return home triumphant with ships weighted to the waterline with geras untold. But that was all deceit on his part. He now commands we return to our homes empty handed. Give up the assault on the Trojan walls. He commands we leave the city unburnt.”
“We should have outnumbered them, but their foreign allies stock their army with more men than we can count, with more chariots than we can make. Foreigners keep us from victory. Our ships rot on the sand and under the harsh sun. The wood gives way and the ropes snap. Meanwhile, our wives and families wait for our return. Yet, here we linger. A never ending war before us. I say it’s time to return home and forget the Trojans and their riches. Have we not collected geras enough to share? I say let’s make for home!”
Before Agamemnon’s final words sounded in the air, the men stampeded for the ships, cheering as they stumbled over each other in their joy. Sand showered the air in their haste. Soldiers, thin and weary by prolonged war, found strength in the promise of home. They pulled stocks from beneath hulls and began digging the creaking ships from their sandy docks.
Agamemnon stood shocked and angry. “Cowards, all of them,” he seethed.
Menelaus exhaled in exasperation. “Your captains tried to warn you this might happen. What are you going to do?”
Agamemnon growled, “Zeus must have a purpose. To be made a fool of before my army …” This would never happen to Achilles. That Fucking Phthian. Even in his absence, he mocks me.
*
From her silver chair, Hera watched the tragedy play out on the beach. “Although I love the Greeks best, Agamemnon is a fool. Challenging the men to chose between home and war. Look, Athena, see how they scurry like ants to a crumb of bread?”
Athena knelt at the Queen of Olympus’ feet. Gazing down through the wispy clouds circling the peaks of the sacred mountain, she saw clearly the Greeks running about their ships. “They make ready for departure. So soon? The war is not won.”
“We cannot allow this to happen. Leave Helen, that conniving bitch, safe in Troy living as a queen. How many of our faithful Greeks have died on her behalf? No, Athena, you must help me stop this.”
“Why would Agamemnon wish to test his men?”
“I do not know. But, you must fly to Odysseus. Speak to your faithful servant. Use stealth, daughter.” She grabbed Athena by the arm, squeezing it tightly. “Zeus must never know we interfere.”
“I understand. I fear whatever bargain he struck with Thetis is now unfolding. We risk rebellion …”
Hera released her daughter’s arm. “If Zeus should turn on us, we will not survive his wrath.”
“Have no fear, I know what I must do.” Athena grabbed her shining spear and glittering helm, and leapt from the mountain, flying to the beach in search of Odysseus, King of Ithaka.
✽✽✽
Athena found Odysseus hanging back near a horseless cart. She moved behind him, pressing her holy hand onto his shoulder, speaking directly into his ear. The hairs on Odysseus neck stood on end. “Goddess, I know you are here.”
“I cannot fool you, Odysseus.”
“What wisdom do you have for me, Athena?”
“Shameful how these men run from their king. Run from battle.”
“What can I do? Agamemnon’s words gave the men hope of home. I cannot blame them.”
“Leaving Helen of Sparta for these filthy Trojans would be disgraceful.”
“What can be done? Agamemnon has brought this catastrophe on himself. Always striving to prove he is the best of us. Fool.”
“Do not be so harsh, Odysseus. A man cannot help but be who he is born to be. Look at you, as stubborn in your old age as when you were a boy.”
Odysseus sighed heavily. “Laertes often chided me for being so. Yet, what am I to do now?”
Several men ran passed him half carrying, half dragging their belongings toward the ships.
“Too many have lost their lives on account of Helen. Speak up. Persuade them on Agamemnon’s behalf. Remember there is no safe return without Achilles. If you leave now, you are all doomed.”
Athena’s heavy hand released Odysseus’ shoulder, sending his cape fluttering to the ground. The bronze rings of his cuirass clinked as he ran to the Great King’s platform. He grabbed Elephenor, captain of over forty ships from Euboea, along the way. “Friend! Why are you running with your men? Are we not princes and kings of our own lands? Agamemnon was wrong to test the men like this, but we know better. We must stay and fight these bastards.”
Elephenor’s wiry eyebrow lifted in surprise. “You of all men should be running for your fast ships. You and your constant talk of home.” He grabbed at his cock. “And your faithful Penelope.”
Ignoring the crude gesture, Odysseus encouraged his fellow captain. “Soon enough we will hear Agamemnon out. We heard his plan at the captains’ table to test the men. We all know his jealousy of Achilles standing among the men. Likely he wished to raise his own esteem in Achilles’ absence. Come, man, you know the rage of kings is strong, but the rage of princes, such as we are, beneath Agamemnon’s rank, is stronger still.”
Elephenor nodded consent. “You and your silver tongue. Always knowing what to say, how to change a man’s mind.”
Odysseus clapped the old man on the shoulder. “Help me, then, get these soldiers back to the field. They must give the king a chance to win back their fighting spirits.”
Together, they grabbed men running by and chastised their weakness, calling them deserters and cowards.
“You are fools,” Odysseus yelled as they ran passed, bashing random men with the broadside of his sword, as they scurried toward the ships. “By the balls of Zeus, you should be struck where you stand for your mutiny. You know Agamemnon wouldn’t abandon us.”
Slowly, the tide of discontented men ebbed and they reluctantly returned to hear the Great King’s message. Some grumbled that the king’s test was cruel. Others grumbled that old age would kill them before they ever saw victory. As the men clamored together by the thousands, one voice refused to be silenced.
Thersites, an ugly mess of a man, unwisely continued to rage on against Agamemnon. He shook his wrinkled fist at the Great King. “What more do you want from us? You have the bulk of all the geras, the best of the gold and the women. But still you aren’t satisfied, are you? Where would any of you captains be without the likes of us? We tend your fires, tend your horses. Mend your armor. We live in the sand and dirt, while you sleep on furs and walk on carpets. But you want more? And you, Great King, your greed is boundless. You weren’t content with a hundred beautiful women to warm your bed, you … you had to have one more. You dared to take Achilles’ woman. We all know how he regarded her, took her as a wife to live in his quarters. Achilles is a better man than you, because he’s let the insult go. Otherwise, he’d have slit your throat the moment you took her.”
Odysseus pushed his way through the throng, making directly for Thersites. He grabbed him by the neck, squeezing as he spoke. “Who are you to speak to kings? Hunched over and broken, you are hardly worth a shit in battle. Only cowards abandon their king and commanders. Do you think you know more than me? More then Agamemnon about war and strategy? Has Zeus taken to speaking to lowly men like you with no hair and skinny arms?” He released his grip on the old man and tossed his sword at Thersites’ feet. “There, heft my sword if you are able.”
Thersites stooped to pick up the heavy blade, and his arm shook as he held it out. Odysseus easily batted it from the man’s hand, and it fell to the ground. “You are not even strong enough to wield my blade, so shut your mouth. If I ever hear you spouting such filth again, I will strip you naked and whip you all the way back to the ships myself, or call me Telemachus’ father no more.”
Athena rose behind Odysseus, heralding his voice like thunder. “Agamemnon! The men betray their oaths, true enough. Wishing to return home, be reunited with their proper wives. I know how all of you tire of hearing about my Penelope.” A rumble of laughter spread through the horde.
“But can you blame them? Lesser men than this mob would have betrayed you after a mere month. Yet these men, look at this ragged bunch of warriors! They’ve served you for nine years. True fighters! Hold out a while longer! Hold your courage close so we may see Kalchus’ prophecy spring to life. Aulis is but a breath away in time. Were we not just there, yesterday? Young and eager for war? Our cocks hardened by the thought of gold? Did Kalchus not divine by bird devouring snake that we would be gone nine long years, but in the tenth seize our victory? Here we stand, in that very moment armored for war and victory!”
As a mighty cheer rose for Odysseus’ winging words, Athena’s presence slipped from Odysseus’ shoulders. His smile faded, knowing his patro
n goddess had once again disappeared.
Nestor spoke then. “Such a disgrace watching the best of you running before the final battle. Before claiming the victory we know is ours by right. Did not Zeus give his blessing to us when we left Aulis years ago? Striking lightning on our right? And what of your youthful oaths that now as men you are honor bound to fulfill? I tell you this with a heart bent on war and victory. Do not abandon our mission to strike back at Troy for dishonoring our traditions. Stay and fight until you have a Trojan woman beneath you as payment for your pains of war.” A cheer rose from the throng of men. Nestor continued, “Agamemnon, Great King, stay your course. But arrange your men by their clans so that you can know with certainty who is truly for you, and who is against you. Wherever you lose ground on the field, you will know where the true cowards are and who to punish.”
Agamemnon’s chest swelled with pride, looking out at the ocean of men. “If I had ten men such as Nestor, sitting around my war council, Priam’s precious citadel would fall in a single day.” The Great King then stepped forward to address the crowd, his bronze cuirass flashing brightly in Apollo’s light. “True that Zeus throws obstacles in our path to victory. Who can fathom the ways of the gods? It is true, as you have heard. I did take Achilles’ woman. His lack of respect was … It is no matter now. The deed is done. If he could just work with me, as my commander, try to see eye to eye with me, we would have sailed home long ago. Now, we must make our final push against the shining towers of Troy. Zeus has shown me in a vision that we must move quickly. Go to your tents and ships and prepare for war. Polish your shields and fill your bellies. But I tell you this, if I catch any man trying to hide from this battle, I will feed him to the dogs and birds.”
The heralds called out for the men to obey their king. The horde, once again eager for battle, hurried to ready for the end.
Rage of Queens (Homeric Chronicles Book 3) Page 12
