Warriors in Bronze (22 page)

Time crawled past. The sun climbed high in the sky, the
pillar-patterned square of light retreated from the wall and
spread a golden carpet on the bedroom's marble paving. Near
noon, I thought exhaustedly, and time to move.

I called Menelaus.

He came in at a run, sword outstretched, checked at the
sight on the bed and muttered imprecations. I beckoned him
close and whispered in his ear, 'Harness a chariot, the fastest
team you can find. Bring it to the palace gate. Be quick, Mene­laus !'

He strode out. I backed to the door, shot the bolt by its
leather thong: a means to discourage intruders with my
brother no longer on guard. Thyestes rolled on his side, prop­ped chin on hand and spoke for the first time since my long
ordeal began.

'You can't keep us here for ever. What do you hope to
accomplish, piglet?'

I levered shoulders from the door - far too restful, I nearly
slept standing - and said, 'Your death, Thyestes, your death.
Not today, not tomorrow - but one day I will kill you slowly,
slow as the vigil I spent in this room.' Thyestes laughed, and made to rise from the bed. I advanced
a pace and pointed the sword. He laughed again, rolled on his
back and closed his eyes. Aerope lay still as a log and gazed
blankly at the spiralled whorl’s that decorated the ceiling.

The door rattled, Menelaus shouted. I whipped the bolt free
and leapt into the corridor without a backward glance. 'Run,
brother!' We sprinted along passages, brushed past wondering
Heroes, ladies and gaping servants, hurtled across the Court and
jumped in the waiting chariot. 'Argos,' I snapped, 'and use
your whip!' The vehicle rattled dangerously down narrow
swerving streets, stormed through the citadel gate and out on
the Argos road.

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!'