Warriors in Bronze (9 page)

Echion stirred and groaned. Dionysus' hooded eyes rested on
him briefly. 'I regret to say that one of you has to be sacrificed.
The choice, Agamemnon, is yours.'

'Sacrificed?'

'Yes. To the Goat God who rules the forests and mountains.
The people lately' - a touch of smugness - 'begin to call him
Dionysus. You see, they have just migrated to the foothills
from summer pastures in the mountains, where game is scarce.
They have not tasted meat for moons - and your dog was a
paltry snack.'

I glared at him in horror. 'You will not....'

'Indeed. One will suffice for today; my band, as you see, is
small. Which shall it be, Agamemnon? You must decide: your
man is still unconscious. Think it over and let me know.'

With a word to the loin-clothed spearman Dionysus hobbled
away. I stared across the glade, my mind in turmoil. The sun
slipped behind the mountains' cloud-draped peaks, the cor­ridors of trees were growing dark. Raindrops pattered a carpet
of leaves that autumn wove on the ground. The Goatmen built
fires, and balanced spits across them on forked sticks. Occa­sionally they looked my way, gestured obscenely and laughed.
I closed my eyes and held an aching head. Was I to take
seriously the abominable decision tossed so casually into my
hands ?

In desperation I addressed the spearman. 'Is it true? Will
they ...' I touched my chest, raised hand to lips and pretended
to chew.

'It is true.' A guttural intonation, the pronunciation strange,
but I caught the sense. 'These people live like animals, roving in
packs and always hungry. Don't be afraid - they will cut your
throat before .
.
.' Grinning, he repeated my little mime.

I rested my head on the oak tree and contemplated a darken­ing sky. I was deathly afraid - who would not be?

If I survived the night I would probably die next day - but
dawn might bring salvation. The second herdsman had cer­tainly reported my disappearance to Diores, who would hunt
the hills with spears. Echion was resolute and loyal, but for all
that a lowborn freeman - thousands like him served Mycenae.
And I? A direct descendant of Zeus through Tantalos and
Pelops I was heir - so Atreus said - to Perseus' throne. Sprung
from a line of rulers, born to rule.

A common spearman or a future king. Could there be any
choice ?

Dionysus tottered from the trees. 'Have you cast the lots,
Agamemnon?'

I turned my head away, and gestured blindly to the form
that lay beside me. The old man cackled. 'Congratulations, lad
- a wise decision.' He called across his shoulder; Goatmen came
running and hauled Echion away. The lolling head bounced on
fallen leaves. I do not think he knew what was happening.

They dragged him into a cypress grove beyond my sight. All
the skin-clad creatures followed; the glade was suddenly empty
save for dogs and goats and fires flickering redly in the dark. I
heard the mumble of voices, and a kind of rhythmic chanting.
Dionysus sat cross-legged beside me, and prodded his stave in
soft brown earth. The mysterious spearman who spoke my
tongue so badly rested on his weapon and hummed quietly to
himself.

Dionysus pointed a bony finger. 'You call them Goatmen. I
call them the Dispossessed.'

The chanting swelled in volume, male and female voices
blended in strident discord. A dog nuzzled the spearman's foot;
he kicked it away.

I said dully, 'The Dispossessed?'

'The people who held the land before it was named Achaea,
who lived here peaceful and prosperous before Zeus brought
his warriors from Crete.'

The singing rose to a shriek which shivered the drifting
woodsmoke. Goatmen burst from the cypresses. I saw the things
they carried, and closed my teeth on the vomit that surged in
my throat. 'Which,' Dionysus continued in conversational tones, 'happened a long time ago. Zeus came with chariots and men in
armoured panoply, and found unwarlike people who were
easily subdued. Some submitted: their descendants today are
slaves. Others fought to defend their homes, and died in droves.
The survivors fled to the mountains.'

Chattering and laughing, the Goatmen ringed the fires and
speared collops on the spits. A sickening stench of grilling flesh
assailed the air. Dionysus regarded the scene benignly, like a
father indulging playful children. The spearman shifted his
feet, and hawked and spat.

'There they have remained. Achaeans seized the productive
plains and fertile valleys; the Dispossessed were penned in
desolate hills. Only goats can pluck a living from barren soil, so
Goatmen they became, and wandered the slopes in search of
grazing, moving on when all the grass was eaten.'

A Goatman left the fires, knelt before Dionysus and bowed
brow to ground in obeisance. He tendered in both hands a
chunk of smoking meat. I lowered my head and spewed be­tween my knees. The old man smiled, showing blackened,
rotted stumps, and waved the offering away.

'My food is cheese and honey,' he said when the man had
gone. 'My drink spring water and goat's milk.' He picked a flea
from his beard and cracked it between his nails. 'I swilled
much wine in my youth, but you can't grow vines on moun­tains, and nomads cannot stay to see them fruit. Instead they
make hydromel from wild honey, and get inordinately drunk.
An immensely potent brew, but no substitute for wine ten
years in jar.' Dionysus heaved a regretful sigh. 'Ah, me! Wine
and the juice of the poppy - how easily I have mastered men
with the aid of nature's gifts!'

I brushed leaves across my puddle of vomit, and croaked,
'You and your crew are ordure befouling the earth! Kill me
now, for The Lady's sake! I cannot bear —'

'The Lady? In the hills I have taken Her place. She will not
help you here, Agamemnon. Only I can save you, and I
think
.
..' He murmured to the spearman, creaked to his feet
and limped into the dark.

A rain-wind gusted the trees, rattled branches and spattered
drops which hissed in the dying fires. The Goatmen finished
their horrible feast, crouched near the embers and talked in
guttural voices. One of them seized a woman, rolled her out of
the circle and openly humped her. The audience grunted
applause; several followed the pair's example. Buttocks heaved
and rammed around the fires. Dogs skulked past carrying blood-
smeared bones. A party at the end of the glade broke branches
from trees and built a lean-to shelter. When the work was done
they trooped into the shadows and reappeared with Dionysus
and led him to the shelter like reverential acolytes conducting
a priest to the altar. He lifted his arms in blessing, crooned an
unintelligible dirge, dropped on hands and knees and crawled
inside.

The fires died and darkness deepened. My captors slept where
they had dined; snores mingled with the soughing of the wind.
No watch was set; presumably the dogs provided an adequate
protection. Only my loinclothed guardian stayed alert, sitting
on his haunches close beside me, spearpoint slanted a hands-
breadth from my throat. The cold of an autumn night chilled
my naked body; dried blood caked the scrapes and cuts of my
trawl across the hillside; thirst was a growing torment - but
the thought of food was enough to make me retch. I closed my
eyes and tried to sleep; ghastly pictures raced behind my eye­lids. Nightmare jerked me awake and 1 gasped aloud.

A spearpoint touched my neck. 'Quiet!' the sentry hissed.

I lay back trembling and oozing sweat. A form crept from
the darkness and crouched beside me, bearded lips approached
my ear. I smelt rank body-stink and fetid breath. 'I have re­solved,' Dionysus murmured, 'that a son of Mycenae's Marshal
is a prize too hot to hold. If you disappear Atreus will hunt us
down with every man in the Host. Regretfully I return you to
your friends. My spearman will guide you from the forest. Go
quietly!'

I clambered to my feet, swayed and almost fell. The spear­man held my shoulder and roughly hauled me erect. Dionysus
gripped my arm; nails like talons dug into my flesh.

'Useless to search for us here; we shall be gone by dawn.' He
cackled under his breath. Tell Atreus Dionysus lives!'

We crept from the encampment, threaded recumbent goats
half-seen in the dark, passed dogs which lifted heads and
growled in their throats but forbore to bay alarm - perhaps
they were trained to signal intrusion: departures could go
unhindered. The descent began: a journey I prefer to forget.
Repeatedly I stumbled, slid on screes, bumped invisible rocks
and trees, collapsed in numbed exhaustion. The spearman,
mouthing curses, tugged me up and thrust me on.

Dawn breathed behind the hills when we left the forest's
valance. Shadowy scrub-speckled slopes slanted away to the
valleys. I searched for landmarks to guide me home, and
recognized none. The man had brought me from the forest into
unfamiliar territory; and I lacked the strength to hunt around
for a path that led to Rhipe. The spearman silently pointed and
turned to retrace his steps.

'Lead me farther,' I begged, 'until I can find my way.'

He hesitated, turned and pushed me on. We entered a
narrow cleft, rock-walled and bordered by bushes. A shout, and
sliding feet, stones clattering, and a rush of bodies. My guardian
lifted his spear too late, men trampled him into the rocks. A
shield rammed my chest and knocked me flat; the bearer
clutched my throat and peered into my face. The choking
fingers loosened.

'Agamemnon!' Diores breathed. 'Thanks to The Lady!
We've found you!'

* * *

'Dionysus?' Atreus said. 'Impossible! You must have been
dreaming!'

Then,' I said huffily, 'it was a nightmare which I pray will
never recur.'

The Marshal spread his hands to the hearth-fire's blaze, and
doubtfully shook his head. I lay on a pallet in Rhipe's Hall.
Bandages swathed my chest and shoulders; healing balms
soothed scratches on my face. Clymene sat on a stool along­side, stroked my hair and fed me honeyed bread. I swallowed a
morsel and said, 'Why are you here, my lord?'