Warriors in Bronze (13 page)

The Marshal shook his shoulders. 'Ah, well, that will be
another day. Remind me, Agamemnon, to sacrifice a white
barley-fed bull to The Lady as soon as we're safe in Mycenae!'

atreus
strode from the Throne Room and met me in the
Great Court. He said curtly, 'Come on, Agamemnon, I'm going
to have a bath. It might wash away ill-humour.' I followed him
to the palace's single bathroom. Slaves removed his cloak and
boots and kilt; he stepped into a polished marble bath: a stone
of unusual colour, pink and streaked with red. Two buxom
female slaves sluiced him with steaming water; he sat in the
bath and vigorously plied a sponge. I stood against a wall - he
had not invited me to sit - and listened while the Marshal, in
terse and angry sentences, enlarged upon a crisis.

'Those damned Thebans are strangling our corn supplies
from Lake Copais, and the Council is flapping like old wet
hens.'

He squeezed water on his hair; a woman scrubbed his back.
In days gone by, the Marshal explained between wallowings
and splashings, the people of Orchomenos drained Lake Copais,
a sunken stretch of land which streams flooded every winter to
create a shallow lake. By a system of dykes and embankments
and underground drainage channels - a major engineering feat
- the Orchomenians reclaimed the area and secured for them­selves a large and fertile tract that grew abundant crops of
wheat and barley and rye: the most extensive granary in
Achaea.

Mycenae established a regular trading connection, bartering
bronze, slaves, wine and fleeces for corn: after every harvest a
train of ox-drawn wagons laden high with grain trundled from
Boeotia to Mycenae. But for three years past, the Marshal
grumbled, the convoys returned half empty and the agents full
of excuses that Theban bailiffs invented: a poor harvest,
exceptional home demand, diverting supplies to a famine in
Thrace - and so on.

'Hercules,' said Atreus sourly, 'is the original cause of the
trouble. His attack, years ago, on Orchomenian tribute gath­erers started a war which ended in Theban victory. Now
Thebes controls the Copaic cornlands and imposes blockades at
will.'

I swallowed a sigh. The Marshal was off on a lecture, one of
several about politics and economics he had inflicted on me
lately. It was wise to feign interest: his way with inattentive
youngsters tended towards brutality. I said, 'Surely very short­sighted? Why? We've never warred against Thebes.'

'Don't you know any history ? Sit down, lad, sit down! Don't
stand there like a cornfield dummy planted to scare the crows!
Thebans are foreigners, outlanders. Cadmus came from Phoeni­cia, and alien blood flows thickly in the veins of his descend­ants. Always they've been hostile to their neighbours, always
ready to foster dissension, do us harm. They are insatiably
ambitious, and aim at dominating the whole of Achaea. Their
hobby and pleasure is sodomy, a vice imported by Cadmus
which flourishes like a poisonous weed in the decadent climate
of Thebes. They've actually raised a chariot squadron manned
entirely by buggers, calling itself the Scavengers - The Lady
preserve us! - which does nothing but train for war. We have
pederasts in Mycenae, I'm sorry to say - but nobody holds it a
social virtue, and if you're caught in the act you get impaled!'

The Marshal paused in his diatribe, and added darkly, 'I
shouldn't be surprised to hear those Thebans help the Goatmen
in every way they can. Your Dionysus may be bogus - but the
real one came from Thebes!'

Atreus surged from the bath, a wave of water raced across
the tessellated floor. A woman wrapped him in soft woollen
sheets and dabbed his body dry. Those greybeards of the
Council suggested an ultimatum. I persuaded Eurystheus to
think it over and give a decision tomorrow.'

I said, 'Ultimatum?'

'Yes,' said the Marshal, scowling. The idiots think we're
capable of making war on Thebes. Half haven't seen the place.
I have. Immensely strong fortifications, a curtain wall so long it
warrants seven gates. It can draw on all the resources of a rich
and fertile country. I don't say the citadel can't be taken - it
can - but it needs thorough organization and the military sup­port of all the allies we have. Now is not the time: Mycenae
has other troubles simmering in the stew. Pylos for one:
another heritage that scoundrel Hercules bequeathed. I hope
Argo
tips him overboard and drowns him!'

Skilful stroking fingers massaged the Marshal from forehead
to feet; an aroma of scented oil pervaded the steamy air.
'Pylos,' he growled, 'is preparing for war. Neleus saw his family
killed and his city sacked by a rogue he regards as King Eurys­theus' hit-man. He doesn't believe that Hercules acted without
orders - and who can blame him? The ruffian has done some
unspeakable jobs for Eurystheus in his time! I hear Neleus is
expanding his fleet - Pylos, by her situation, was always a
maritime power - and intends to raid our seaboard. He'll do a
lot of damage, and we shall have to retaliate: overland, of
course, for we can't face the Pylian galleys. Marching a Host
through Arcadia is no damned joke! And who the blazes
wants
a war with Pylos?'

Atreus traced his toe on a floor-tile's zigzag pattern. That's
not all. The Heraclids are busy. Iolaus and Hyllus are concert­ing an alliance with Athens in the hope of getting support for
an invasion across the Isthmus. Athens doesn't much matter: a
bunch of yellow-bellied rats. But you can bet your bracelets
they've also consulted Creon, Regent of Thebes, and he's not
the man to miss an opportunity. I foresee a thrust on Corinth
and an attempt to invade the Argolid - and not too far in the
future.'

'So,' I said sagely, 'as Mycenae faces a war on two fronts an
expedition against Thebes is obviously out of the question.'

'At the moment, yes. Sooner or later Thebes must be des­troyed - but we must choose our time and not loose arrows
from half-drawn bows. Neither a Pylian nor Heraclid war,' said
Atreus savagely, 'will fill our depleted granaries. Already we
import all the corn they can spare from Egypt and Crete. The
Curator says we're heading for famine within a couple of
harvests if we don't break the Theban blockade or find a new
source of supply.'

'Does one exist?'

'It does. I suggested to the king in Council we annex Midea
and Asine.'

Atreus interpreted. Midea stands inland midway betweenArgos and Mycenae; Asine, its port, lies on the coast a half
day's journey distant. The land enclosed between them, not­ably fertile and bearing heavy corn crops, made Amphiarus of
Midea a very wealthy man. Hence, though Mycenaean rulers
from Perseus on had cast covetous eyes on the pair, none
hitherto had ventured to attack them. They remained an irrita­tion, like a thorn adrift in your boot; and because of their
strength were bold enough to loose occasional forays on the
cattle herds of Tiryns.

'But that,' I exclaimed, 'means yet another war!'

The woman draped a robe around his shoulders; Atreus
pulled it close and sat on the bench beside me. 'Not neces­sarily. I have a plan which I believe will do the trick. Highly
unorthodox, and the trouble will be to extract the king's con­sent.' Atreus sighed. 'Eurystheus, I'm afraid, has a very con­ventional mind.'

A slave removed the drain plug, water gurgled in the runnels.
'I feel much better. Nothing like a good sluice.'

Pensively I contemplated the red bath, and agreed. 'But,' I
added, 'I always get a strange sensation whenever I sit in that
tub - a feeling of terrible danger. Quite without reason - and I
can't think why.'

'Nor I,' the Marshal said. 'Safest place in the palace!'

*
*
*

Although Atreus often confided to me his reflections and ideas
- and never asked my opinion - I was of course not present at
the private consultations between the king and his Marshal.
Atreus summarized the interview for me afterwards. Eurys­theus flatly refused to sanction his proposal. Ludicrous, he
stated. It had never been done before, and that was enough for
him. Atreus persisted; Eurystheus then suggested discussing the
plan in Council, and was delicately persuaded that secrecy was
vital. At last the attractions - if not the feasibility - of the
project dawned on the king: it was just the sort of venture fit
for Heroes; and he insisted on a condition that, if he accorded
leave, he personally must lead the expedition. Doubtless he saw
himself, in the evening of his days
-
Eurystheus was then past
fifty - wallowing in the glory of a feat the bards would sing for
years to come.Atreus hid his dismay. He had promised the plan was bound
to succeed; he could not now dissuade the king by dwelling on
the consequence of failure. Instead he emphasized the physical
hardships involved and swore that, barring himself, not a war­rior over thirty would be included in his force. Eurystheus saw
reason - you don't become king of Mycenae without hard-won
recognition of the realities of war - and reluctantly gave con­sent.

The Marshal's thorough preparations disclosed to me the
genius which won him his high position. In a late autumnal
dawn I drove him from Mycenae on the road that led to Argos.
The travelling chariot he had ordered was a battered, rickety
vehicle, the horses low-bred hairies; we both wore shabby
clothes; a mysterious rope-knotted bundle reposed on the char­iot's floor. When the road forked to Midea he directed me to a
gully and stopped on the bank of a brook that was bordered by
alders and aspens. Atreus dismounted, untied the bundle and
dressed himself in a soiled linen tunic, a patched cloak and a
strap suspending a leather box of the kind that pedlars carry. A
floppy ferret-skin hat completed the disguise. He knelt beside
the water and smeared mud on face and arms and legs, dis­arrayed his beard and said, 'How do I look?'

I had watched these preparations in goggle-eyed astonish­ment, and could only stutter. He flipped the box open and
displayed a jumble of trinkets and carved bone figurines of the
kind that women buy for offerings at The Lady's shrines. 'Per­sonal reconnaissance, Agamemnon - essential for a hazardous
venture like this. Stay here and keep under cover. If some
wandering herdsman finds you, cut his throat. I shall be back
before dark.'