He conceived the idea of a deputy to lighten the load at
Nauplia. 'At the moment I'm forced to depend on the harbour
master, and the man's a fool, and idle as well. I need someone
entirely reliable to whom I can depute authority. A Master of
the Ships, in fact.' He eyed me speculatively. 'You're young,
Agamemnon, but I think you'd fit. Do you fancy the job?'
'Not I,' I answered fervently. 'I know nothing of ships and
the sea!'
Atreus looked unconvinced, and I feared - with reason - the
intention remained in his mind.
News from the north brought further distractions. The Heraclids, successfully concluding alliances, had gained an Athenian
contingent, some Locrian slingers and detachments from Boeotian territories which Thebes controlled. A tentative raid on the
Isthmus ravaged an outlying demesne a Corinthian Hero held,
and the Warden of Corinth expected further forays.
King Eurystheus in Council considered the pros and cons
and, after long and wordy argument, proposed a pre-emptive
strike. Levy the Host, he said, burst across the Isthmus, bring
the Heraclids to battle and smash them into fragments with an
overwhelming force. The Council's greybeards croaked agreement; Mycenae, they reminded the king, had not waged full-
scale war for years, and Heroes were getting soft.
Atreus heatedly demurred. A campaign demanded a bulky
train which would absorb draught animals, wagons and drovers
and deprive the transport hauling timber for the fleet. A trifling
delay, the Council murmured; the war would be over, the Host
returned before the moon waxed full.
Very well, said Atreus; then what about Pylos ? - an immediate threat they could not ignore. Intelligence sources declared
King Neleus' armada crowded Pylos' beaches; only a contrary
wind prevented him from sailing. The Council's recommendations delayed the launch of galleys to oppose the Pylians;
would they also strip the kingdom's shore defences when an
enemy was poised to wreak destruction from the sea ?
Eurystheus would not be deterred. Atreus opined later (I did
not attend the meeting) that the king in his declining years
craved a glorious and not too difficult victory before the grave
engulfed him. But he could not stay blind to the challenge
from Pylos, and concocted a proposal to counter his Marshal's
warning.
'We will make peace with Neleus,' he told the Council, 'and
offer generous restitution for the destruction Hercules wrought.
You, my lord Atreus, will lead an embassy to Pylos, taking
valuable gifts, cattle and horses, slaves and gold and bronze.
Offer the king our friendship, plead our deep contrition for
the wrong that he has suffered.'
'You will humble yourself to Neleus?' Atreus asked.
'A wise political gambit, my lord. Pylos can do us enormous
harm; we'll find it hard to retaliate. Of course, when you've
built your fleet .
..
Meanwhile let us extinguish Hercules'
troublesome brood.'
'Are you seriously suggesting,' Atreus raged, 'that I, Marshal
of Mycenae, Pelops' son, sprung from Zeus through Tantalus,
should crawl like a beggar to Neleus, Thessalian Tyro's by-
blow?'
'He claims descent from Poseidon. It's statecraft, Atreus,
statecraft. Take when you're strong, bluff if you're weak, yield
when you must. We are forced, for a time, to yield.'
Then who,' demanded Atreus, 'will lead the Host ? I can't be
in two places at once!'
'I am quite capable,' said Eurystheus warmly, 'of conducting
a campaign. You will make arrangements immediately for the
embassy to Pylos.' He addressed the Curator. 'Provide the Marshal with an opulent treasure. I shall call a levy of arms and
march when the moon is new. That is all, gentlemen. The
Council is ended.'
You can't, without losing your lands, defy a royal command.
Atreus brooded in sullen fury, recognized realities and the
urgency of the mission, recovered his temper and quickly collected a wagon train and escort for the journey. I expected to
accompany him, and made my preparations. He entered my
house, brusquely dismissed the slaves packing accoutrements
and baggage and said, 'You go with King Eurystheus and the
Host.'
A cuirass I was holding clattered on the floor. Clymene retrieved the piece and polished a smear on the bronze. 'Why,
my lord ? Surely —'
'Excellent reasons. Come!' The Marshal beckoned me outside. 'I want somebody whose judgment I can trust to scrutinize palace politics when I'm gone, and also observe the Heraclid war. With Eurystheus in charge I have an ugly feeling
things could easily go wrong. He's never led a major campaign,
and is getting on in years. You'll watch like a hawk, Agamemnon, and send me word in a flash if anything untoward happens.'
I was not altogether displeased. A Hero far prefers the
chance of a fight to a dull diplomatic mission. The Marshal
watched my face, read my thoughts and said coldly, 'No false
heroics, if you please. Don't get yourself stuck on some asinine
Heraclid's spear. If we look like being defeated move out fast.
There's no disgrace in running when the odds are turning
against you.'
Atreus left in the morning. He held Mycenae's throne when
next I saw him.
Heroes flocked to the citadel in response to the royal levy, each
bringing his Companion, a troop of spearmen and slaves, and
ox-carts to carry his baggage. Almost every nobleman
answered Eurystheus' call; a few exceptions - sick or elderly,
perhaps, or engaged in private quarrels with unforgiving neighbours - paid fines instead. Though King Adrastus of Argos
offered a detachment Eurystheus declined allied aid: he reckoned Mycenae's vassals alone could beat the Heraclid gang.
Two hundred chariots and two thousand spearmen encamped
around the city: a considerable Host by any standards before
the Trojan War. The rasp of grindstones whetting blades and
bronzesmiths' clanging hammers resounded from dawn till
night.
When kings go warring they delegate administrative powers
to one of their principal Heroes. The machinery can't be
allowed to grind to a halt. A flow of petitioners daily besieges
the Throne Room, ranging from importunate Daughters seeking extended estates to humble freemen disputing a boundary
fence. Wrongdoers have to be punished, and the kingdom's
accounts inspected. Someone has to carry on the work.
Eurystheus summoned Thyestes.
I began worrying directly his bull-necked figure swaggered
into the Hall. For an indefinite time the man would control
Mycenae, his machinations only obstructed by a dotard or two
on the Council. From the Marshal's dissertations I knew Thyestes' ambitions were unlimited and pitiless, his capacity for mischief beyond all calculation. He profoundly hated his brother
and, since Plisthenes' death, hungered for revenge. I pretended
to myself that while the king went warring he couldn't do
much damage: he had no troops at his command save a
slender palace guard; neither Argos nor Sparta, friendly neighbours both, were likely to lend their Heroes to further his designs. Pylos? He might be in touch with Neleus, but Atreus
hurried to draw that serpent's fangs.
Neverthless I remained uneasy.
A series of minor incidents added to my anxieties. Thyestes
was quartered in chambers adjoining the Marshal's staterooms
where my mother kept her court. He strolled in and out of her
rooms all day, his visits far more frequent than courtesy required. I managed to be present at several of these meetings -
Aerope declared her surprise at her son's unwonted attentions
- and disliked the glint in Thyestes' eye, the responsive gleam in
my mother's. She had always had a weakness for burly, muscular men - Thyestes was certainly that - and I called to mind
unhappily a long-forgotten scandal dating from her spinster
days in Crete. Catreus had surprised his daughter in bed with a
lusty Hero, and was only just dissuaded from selling her to
slavery. (The unfortunate Hero he burned alive.) They hushed
the matter up; perhaps Atreus had never learned of it. Perhaps
he had, and the knowledge of her frailty incited him to seduce
her while Plisthenes still lived. Yet I was tolerably certain she
had never horned the Marshal since her marriage.
But Atreus travelled Laconia's distant roads, the court would
shortly remove to war - and my mother's fragile defences
faced a redoubtable foe.
1 debated the problem. Should I send the Marshal a courier
urging a quick return, a warning suitably veiled? - you
couldn't be blatant with verbal messages. Difficult. Atreus
obeyed a royal command: nothing short of Eurystheus' seal
would turn him back. Least of all a young man's callow counsel based on grounds no stronger than foreboding and suspicion.
I abandoned the thought
-
which proved unfortunate. From
my weak-kneed dereliction flowed a torrent of catastrophe
whose scars endure today.
* * *
Menelaus, still a Companion, arrived with the Tiryns contingent. A brisk argument and a hearty bribe - three jars of olive
oil - persuaded his Hero I could take him as my driver. (While
seeking a Companion among Mycenaean gentry I found nobody
very anxious to share my chariot. A driver and his Hero grow
very close; most of the younger men believed me the Marshal's
son and feared - I wouldn't say wrongly - I might betray their
confidences.)
On a morning in late summer, the harvest safely gathered,
the Host started from Mycenae. Eurystheus and five sons - he
seemed determined to make the campaign a family affair - rode
in the van behind a sprinkle of scouts, a brilliant sight despite
his age in armour washed with gold. Palace Heroes followed,
then noblemen from Tiryns and our tributary cities. Every
chariot, including mine, trailed a troop of slaves and spearmen,
carts and mules and donkeys: the Hero's personal entourage. A
long disjointed column straggled into the hills.
I saw nothing singular in the order of march, for this was
my first campaign. (Atreus, when I described it, almost threw a
fit.
His
chariots invariably led, all spearmen in a body marched
behind; he sternly relegated transport to the rear, and a rearguard closed the column. Such uncomfortable innovations imposed by a great commander who thought in advance of his
times met with nobody's approval. With his presence removed,
the Heroes - King Eurystheus included - happily reverted to
the old chaotic ways.)