Talthybius,' I called. 'Come here.'
Torn between guilt and eagerness he shuffled from the
shadows. I said, Talthybius, I am entrusting to you a mission
of vital importance. On you will depend Mycenae's fate; you
must not fail. Take this chariot to my house, yoke fresh horses
from my stables - the Kolaxian greys are the best - ask Clymene for food and a wineskin. You will drive to Pylos as fast as
the horses can go. Change horses at Sparta; leave the greys in
payment. Go like the wind till you're climbing the mountains
past Lerna - by midday you must be beyond pursuit. At Pylos
give Atreus my signet ring and tell him: "King Eurystheus is
dead. Thyestes holds Mycenae. Return at once." You will not
mention this to another soul; and I expect the message to be
delivered within two days.'
I slipped from a finger the ring with my personal seal - a
jasper bezel portrayed my ancestor Zeus grappling a lion in
either hand - and made the lad (he was just fifteen) repeat the
instructions word for word. Talthybius made no bones about it,
asked no questions. Serious and slightly portentous, a youth
abruptly cloaked in a mantle of responsibility, he grasped the
nearside bit to lead the chariot off. I added, 'When you return,
Talthybius, I'll take you as my squire and, after you pass the
tests, make you my Companion.'
His countenance glowed scarlet, tears started in his eyes, he
slapped a horse's neck to hide his emotion. (Later on, at Troy,
Talthybius drove me to battle.)
I had to move quickly. It seemed to me essential that news of
the Battle of Megara should not be known in Mycenae - carried, perhaps, from Corinth by a runner across the hills - before my messenger to Atreus was well on his way. After that
the outcome lay in The Lady's lap. I guessed Thyestes would
act directly he heard the battle's result. He had brought from
Tiryns twenty or so retainers: Heroes, Companions and spearmen. Against these stood the citadel's slender guard: sick or
elderly lords and young Companions. Thyestes' men would obey
his commands; whom would the palace people support when
they heard of Eurystheus' death? Unwise to assume they
would back the Marshal. Even if they did so I doubted victory
in a fight between Thyestes' stalwart Heroes and a leash of
youths and dotards.
The focus of loyalty centred on Aerope; as the Marshal's
wife and Mycenae's paramount lady she might command
obedience from men on either side. Long enough, maybe, to confuse the issue and hold the fort till Atreus returned.
Four days to wait, I reckoned. I must see my mother at once and convince her of the role she had to play.
Tersely I briefed Menelaus. He looked perplexed - my
brother was never quick in grasping a new idea - and, so tired
we could hardly put a foot in front of the other, ascended the
road to the palace. Dust and wind and weariness had stung my
eyes to tears, daybreak's crimson streamers danced across the
sky like banners whipped in a gale. A palace sentinel's spear-
shaft barred the gate; then recognition dawned and spear and
jaw both dropped. We crossed the Court and shuffled along
dim corridors, climbed stairs to Aerope's apartments. A fat old
dozing maidservant squatted against a door-jamb. She floundered to her feet, backed against the door and stammered, 'No,
my lord, no! I pray you, do not enter....'
My mood allowed no sympathy for conscientious slaves.
Thrusting the crone aside I tapped on the doors and pushed
them open.
The room was all but dark, heavy woollen hangings covered
a window opening on a balustraded balcony. Furniture loomed
like rocks in a gloomy sea. I paused to accustom my eyes, and
looked towards the bed: a foursquare ebony frame inlaid with
gold and ivory, covered by purple rugs and snow-white fleeces.
Something heaved and plunged on the bed. Strangled animal
grunts and a piercing feminine squeal.
I ran to the window, sent a table flying and wrenched the
curtains apart. Grey dawnlight flooded the room. Hand on
sword-hilt, blade half drawn, I faced the bed.
Thyestes sprawled atop of Aerope, both stark as their
mothers bore them.
He pulled himself free, rolled to the bedside and stood, prick
rampantly erect, a look like nightfall on his face. Aerope lay on
her back, thighs obscenely spread, eyes wide in a terrified stare.
I felt angry, sick and fearful. Menelaus stopped on the
threshold, breathing gustily through his nose, a horrified snarl
on his lips. For ten heartbeats the tableau froze, and no one
moved.
Thyestes searched for a weapon in one quick glance, saw
none, and stealthily as a prowling cat padded towards the window. He crouched like a wrestler, arms wide and fingers
clawed. Muscles rippled his hairy frame and sweat-drops
beaded the skin. I waited paralysed, more afraid than ever in
my life. He came so close I could smell his body, and spoke in a
rasping whisper.
'This is death, Agamemnon.'
Menelaus streaked from the shadows, flashed sword from
sheath and rested the point on Thyestes' spine.
'Stand still, my lord!'
Thyestes lowered his arms, turned slowly about. 'So. The
second fosterling cub of Atreus' brood. Confronting an unarmed man, and therefore brave as lions. Why are you here?
Has warfare frightened you back to your den?'
Menelaus prodded his navel. He said tightly, 'Shall I kill him,
Agamemnon?'
Aerope screamed. 'For The Lady's sake, for the womb that
bore you ... I beseech ... do not..
My blade came out. I crossed to my mother, wrenched back
her head by the hair and laid the edge on her slender neck.
Veins laced the skin like faint blue threads. 'You whoring
bitch!' I choked.
'You
above all deserve to die. Betraying the
Marshal —'
'If you harm Aerope,' said Thyestes in even tones, 'I will slay
you in turn with my naked hands.'
I believed him. He would kill us whatever the cost. I rammed
my mother's head on the pillow, stood behind Thyestes and let
him feel my sword. (A sword-point pricking his belly and
another on his backbone would make a normal man believe his
end had come. Not the smallest quiver betrayed any fear.) I
tried to think. A bloody massacre in Aerope's room would not
help Atreus' cause, for Thyestes' crime would never be known
with all the protagonists dead. His infamy must be blazoned
abroad, his punishment come from the Marshal's hands.
We had to leave the adulterers alive. Talthybius by then was
away on the Argos road, having told the guard commander his
intended destination - a mandatory precaution lest travellers
failed to return. Thyestes must assume we had sent a message
to Atreus and would try to intercept it. The squire needed time
to drive beyond his reach.
For as long as we could manage Thyestes must be penned.
You may think I made a stupid, muddled decision. With
hindsight you could be right: my brother and I should have
taken the risk and killed the couple at once, thus saving much
grief in the future. Remember I was tired, my brain fuddled by
fatigue - and still sufficiently youthful to flinch from desperate
measures.
However much you hated her, would you despatch your
mother ?
I said, 'Menelaus, stand guard on the door. Let nobody enter.
I'll call when I want you back.'
Menelaus scowled, viciously prodded his point in Thyestes'
stomach and left the room. Alone with the enemy I considered
ways and means. I had to keep the lion at bay, prevent a leap
for my throat. I jabbed his spine and said, 'Lie on the bed.'
Thyestes walked unhurriedly to the bed and lay beside
Aerope. I backed beyond his reach, felt for a stool and changed
my mind. A man was a fool to be sitting when a wild beast
waited to spring. I cradled sword on forearm, and listened to
the thumping of my heart.
Sunrise slanted yellow shafts on the bedroom's wall, silhouetted the balustrade's convoluted pillars. The citadel wakened; feet clattered in the Great Court, voices rumbled, a
bucket jangled on paving. A day guard relieved the night
watch; commanders shouted orders; a steward scolded laggard
slaves. Footsteps in the corridor, muffled inquiries and my
brother's gruff replies. Dogs barking persistently from the
direction of Zeus' Tomb; a distant crunch of wagon wheels, the
drover cursing his beasts.
Inside the room it was dim and cool and quiet. I kept my
eyes on Thyestes, and felt the lids begin to drop. Fiercely I
gripped the sword-hilt and forced myself awake.
He looked at me slyly. The pair of naked bodies - his deep
brown, hers white as the rumpled fleeces - lay side by side on
the coverlets. His hand crept to Aerope's belly, wandered to her
hip, caressed the tuft of hair between her thighs. My mother
went rigid, and gasped. His fingers probed more deeply, worked
busily in the cleft, his weapon climbed revoltingly erect.
Aerope closed her eyes and clutched her breast, breathed
deeply in jerky spasms, spread her legs.
Thyestes held my eyes, and leered. I gulped the bile that clogged my throat. Sword aloft I strode
to the bed, detected a sudden stillness and the tensing of his
muscles - and stopped in time to elude the lunge. Slowly I
withdrew, and rested blade on forearm. Not a flicker of expression betrayed the failure of his gambit. His fingers went on
delving. Aerope moaned.
My body ached with tiredness, every sinew cried for rest.
Despite the spectacle performed before my eyes sleep enveloped my mind like a soft and soothing cloak. I stamped my
feet, rapped blade on ribs, studied familiar furniture: ebony
chairs and marble tables, a silver sewing basket running on
castors, crystal jars and phials littering a chest, ivory combs
and brazen mirrors, an earthenware pitcher for drinking water
embellished with black and red octopi, a lionskin rug by the
bed. Flies buzzed monotonously and settled on my face. I let
them rove; the irritation helped in keeping me awake.
Thyestes watched me intently, his eyes like splintered ice.
Even when he ejaculated his gaze never wavered a fraction.