Warriors in Bronze (26 page)

Epidauros conceded an annual tribute and asked Adrastus in
return to sweep the mountains clear of robbers and rustlers
who for years had pestered their lands. Which Adrastus did,
and so began the extension of Argive influence that Diomedes
in years to come so vigorously continued.

The construction of ships at Nauplia progressed in a desul­tory way. Twelve lay beached and ready; twenty more were
building in the yards. All were triaconters, thirty oars a side,
the largest craft afloat. (Because you may be ignorant of mari­time affairs I explain that triaconters are longships painted
black, shallow-draughted for beaching, brazen beaks for ram­ming, sternposts carved in outlandish shapes: a lion-head or
seahorse. The captain has a cabin in the sternsheets, a flimsy
wooden hut whose walls are gaudily painted; amidships rises a
mast of fir stepped in a hollow box. To shelter the rowers from
sun a collapsible oxhide canopy supported on poles runs fore
and aft. Cargo is carried in coffer-like holds between the
rowers' benches.)

I bought slaves to augment the work force, trebled wagons
and woodmen hauling timber from the forests, chased car­penters and shipwrights. I needed seventy galleys to match the
Pylian fleet. The yards disgorged triaconters to swell the ranks
on the beach; I then faced a shortage of crewmen. While you
can teach any idiot to row - except perhaps Hercules - you
must have sailors to navigate, steer and handle sails and sheets :
the experts who keep a ship afloat when storms and reefs are
about. I shipped pressgangs to Crete, whose maritime traditions
reach far into antiquity, and obtained the men I wanted. Force
was seldom needed; with Cretan overseas trade in the doldrums
unemployed sailors were glad to find work.

I embarked on my maiden voyage in a galley beached at
Nauplia. Rowers ran the vessel to the sea, put mast and sail
aboard, trimmed the ship, fixed oars in leather slings. The
master, a red-haired ruffian, face blackened by sun and salt,
straddled a monstrous steering oar and hoarsely bellowed
orders. Sixty oars struck the water together, the galley leapt
like a startled horse and glided into the bay. The coxswain
piped on a flute to mark the rowers' rhythm.

In ruffled water outside the bay the crew shipped oars and
hoisted sail: layered squares of linen stitched together. The sun
dashed sparks from dancing waves, the galley rolled and
plunged, spindrift sprayed my beard. The crimson prow
climbed high on the combers, pitched in the troughs between.
A strange sensation invaded my guts. I clutched the backstay
and swallowed. A grin exposed the master's yellow teeth. 'Over
the lee side, my lord, if you please.' I knelt at the low beech
transom and voided into the waves, the first of many tributes I
paid the sea.

(In all my many voyages I invariably spewed while the ship
still sighted harbour, and never felt the smallest qualms there­after.)

After wading ashore from this short trip and driving back to
Tiryns I met Menelaus in the Hall. I seated myself on Perseus'
marble throne, ordered wine and food - I was ravenously
hungry, my breakfast gone to the fishes - and inquired his
news. My brother said he brought a message from the king,
pointed an elbow at noblemen and ladies who loitered within
earshot, and pursed his lips. I stuffed cheese in my mouth, led
him to the hearth and mumbled, 'If you now feel we're suffici­ently private will you kindly tell me what Atreus wants?'

'He is going to kill Aerope.'

I choked on my mouthful, sprayed crumbs and gulped down
wine. 'How? When? Where? By The Lady, he's taken long
enough to make up his mind!'

Menelaus said wretchedly, The king has decided on a public
execution, and is bringing her to Nauplia to throw her into the
sea from the cliff above the harbour. He sent me to bid you
choose the place and make arrangements. And other matters.'

I found, to my annoyance, the wine cup shook in my hand.
'Why drag her to Nauplia? If he demands that kind of death
why not the Chaos Ravine?'

'It's the place of execution for common criminals. Aerope is
noble, a daughter of Minos' line.'

I felt both shattered and numbed. Atreus' belated vengeance
seemed unnecessarily cruel, like a cat that plays with a mouse
before the claws unsheathe. (I did not know, nor Menelaus, he
had sent searchers after Thyestes, hoping to kill them together
- hence the delay.) 'A public execution. Atreus will bring spec­tators from Mycenae; Nauplia and Tiryns will gloat upon her
dying. I'll have no hand in this. Tiryns' gates will be closed, the
garrison confined while the procession passes by.'

Menelaus
attentively examined the pleatings of his
kilt. 'I
said there
were other matters, Agamemnon.'

'You did.
What do you mean?'

Menelaus
took a breath, and looked
me in the eye. 'Atreus
ordered me
to watch our mother's killing. I refused.
He then
offered
me the choice of banishment or death.'

My mouth
sagged open in stunned disbelief.

Menelaus
said, 'Yes -
I
couldn't believe
it
either.
Since you
left Mycenae
the king has changed for the worse -
solitary,
brooding, dangerous. I believe his lust for revenge is
driving
him demented.
Nothing but the deaths of the couple who dis­
honoured
him will purge the venom poisoning his
mind.'

'He's
got Aerope. Does he know where Thyestes
has gone?'

'Elis. King
Augeas gives him sanctuary.'

I
pressed fingers to throbbing temples. Heroes
wandered
in
groups in the Hall, conversed in undertones and sent
us
specu­
lative
glances. My squire Talthybius, flagon in hand, came
to fill
our
cups.
I
waved him away.

You agreed to see our mother flung to her death,
or you
wouldn't be
here. She deserves her fate. How can
I
blame
you
for
accepting Atreus' ultimatum?'

'I
bring you much the same conditions, Agamemnon.'

'What! The
king commands my presence on the cliff?'

You,
and all the noblemen of Tiryns.'

I hurled
my goblet in the fire. 'No!
It's
abominable!
I'd
rather quit
Tiryns, live exiled in Sparta or Pylos and
never
set
eyes
on
Atreus
again. I will leave before night!'

Menelaus
said wearily, 'I said
much
the
same
conditions.
Atreus
offers you one choice only:
obedience
or ...
death.'

I supported
my shaking frame on
a
hearthside pillar.
'The
king
is undoubtedly mad
!
And, if I refuse, does
he think I shall
stay in
Tiryns to await his retribution?'

'His
executioners have travelled in my train.
Unless I tell
them otherwise
they will come for you by sundown.'

I am ashamed
to say
I
burst into tears. That
Atreus, whom I
worshipped,
was ready to destroy
me
opened
a
bottomless void
that swallowed
my soul. For one dark frantic
moment I
con­
sidered
calling on Tiryns' Heroes, barring the gates and chal­lenging
the
king. But who would support a youthful
Warden
against his
formidable sovereign ?
Menelaus gripped my hand. 'Don't torture yourself, Aga­memnon ! Aerope is doomed whatever we do - why should we
sink in the welter? Remember the scene in that dreadful
room! Can you truthfully say she hasn't earned her punish­ment?'

'I don't give a damn for Aerope,' I gulped. 'But Atreus....'

'Atreus at the moment is not quite sane. He believes that if
Aerope's sons witness the execution people will think her con­demnation justified. He feared you'd disobey him - and he
loves you, Agamemnon. He can't bear the thought of you defy­ing him, turning against him, hating him. He'd rather you were
dead.'

'Small comfort for me in that. And you, my brother? Pre­pared to tell the executioners —
'

'Not really.' Gently, with the back of his hand, Menelaus
brushed tears from my cheeks.
'I
reckoned you'd be shrewd
enough to see the light. Senseless to sacrifice life and land in the
cause of a faithless slut who happens to be our mother.' He
paused. 'I take it you agree?'

I nodded miserably.

'Good. Now we both need a drink.' He signalled Talthybius,
who came running. 'Your oldest vintage, lad, and fill the cups
to the brim!'

* * *

The procession left Mycenae at daybreak. From Argos it col­lected a rabble of curious spectators - tradesmen, peasants,
slaves, women, even children - and reached Tiryns by early
afternoon. Spearmen marched in the van, followed by Heroes
in chariots. Then a solitary ox-drawn four-wheeled wagon used
for carting hides - your nostrils shrank from the stench as it
passed. Four strapping Thracian slaves - Atreus' executioners -
walked behind the wagon. The king in a gilded travelling
chariot, his palace Heroes, more spearmen in the rear.