Warriors in Bronze (10 page)

'Why?' Atreus murmured absently. 'Oh, Diores sent a mes­sage. Your second herdsman tracked your trail to the forest's
edge, wisely went no farther and returned to the manor. Diores
armed every freeman he had, despatched a runner to Mycenae
and searched the hills all night. I left at noon with a hundred
men and arrived the evening after you were found.'

'I hope you won't blame Diores.'

'No. He did everything I ordered. It was that fellow's fault -
what's his name, Echion ? I'd have had his head for letting you
enter the woods. Your fault too - you should have known
better. Damned lucky to be alive: very few men survive an
encounter with the Goatmen.'

'Horrible people!' I shuddered. 'Dionysus told
me —‘

'Dionysus, my arse!' Atreus snapped. 'The bastard's been
dead for years. Your chum assumed the name to bolster his
importance.'

'Who
is
Dionysus?'

'He is - was - a bleeding menace. Theban in origin, needless
to say, son of Cadmus' daughter. He took to drink and drugs,
dropped out from society and wandered half the world. Wher­ever he went he attracted degenerates of similar bent who
gathered in sects and indulged in disgusting orgies. Stayed for
years in Naxos; to this day the island is unsafe for decent
people. Tried to settle in Thrace, and was kicked out smartly.
Then he returned to Thebes and introduced his revolting rites
to the younger palace set, most of whom responded with
alacrity. Thebans would, of course. King Pentheus tried to stop
it; a pack of drugged and drunken women tore him in pieces.
Even the Thebans thought it too much, and Dionysus had to
leave. Reappeared in Argos where, I'm sorry to say, he per­verted some of the women who built him altars high in the
hills and worshipped him as a god. His secret was the art of
distilling mind-maddening drugs, brewing wine of astonishing
strength, a handsome face, a seductive personality and a most
enormous prick. Could pleasure twenty women between one
sunset and the next.' Atreus chuckled. 'A fortunate man - if it's
true. The sect, I believe, still lingers secretly in Argos. Eventu­ally the Argives got rid of him, and the last anyone heard he
was snatched by Tyrrhenian pirates and sold as a slave in Asia.
Damned good riddance!'

'How long ago was this?'

Years and years. His mother was Semele, sister of Cadmus'
successor. Let me see.' Atreus counted on his fingers. 'If your
dotard claims to be Dionysus he must be all of ninety years
old. Hardly likely, d'you think?'

'The man seemed old as the hills he trod.''Pigs' wings! Anyway, whoever he is he and his gang are
gone: I sent a warband to scour the place. Far more important
is this.' Atreus lifted a spear. The weapon your escort carried.
Look at the barb.'

I fingered the grey metal, the needle-keen point, and nicked
my hand on an edge ground fine as a hair. 'What is it?'

'Iron,' said Atreus morosely. The man also had this.' He
dropped on the bed a bracelet which I recognized as the one
my sentinel had worn. 'Iron. A precious metal.' The Marshal
touched a ring on his second finger. 'We use it for jewellery,
the few who can afford it. How the blazes does a Goatman buy
enough to make a weapon?'

'He wasn't a Goatman. Quite a different stamp, different
colouring, more civilized. What happened to him?'

'Dead,' Atreus said discontentedly. 'He was badly hurt in the
scuffle, and Diores brought him back. I took one look at his
spearhead and put him to the question. Fellow muttered some­thing about Doris, called himself a Dorian. Quite willing to
talk, but the inquisitors were much too rough, and he died. I've
hanged the fools responsible - imagine using red-hot tongs on a
man who's barely alive! - but that won't help in tracing his
connections.'

The scrapes and gashes stung beneath the bandages, my body
ached all over. Clymene's soothing fingers stroked my brow; I
felt my eyelids drooping. The Marshal, I considered vaguely,
made an unwarranted fuss. Through mists of encroaching
drowsiness I listened to him talking as he strode about the room.
He had heard rumours of the Dorians: a mysterious race
which over the years had filtered into Achaea from unknown
lands beyond the Euxine Sea. Though hustled out by the in­habitants of every realm they entered, a clan was permitted to
settle in the neighbourhood of Doris on a bleak infertile tract
the Locrians didn't want. A harmless people, small in numbers,
outwardly inoffensive, not given to marauding and lifting their
neighbours' cattle. Why was a Dorian wandering with Goat-
men? Where did he find enough iron to use it as we use
bronze? There was iron in Euboia, a little, rare as gold: the
Euboians guarded it closely. Had they found a secret source
elsewhere?

Atreus' monologue and Clymene's gentle caress almost lulled
me to sleep. I forced my eyelids apart and said, 'What does it
matter, my lord? The Dorians probably barter iron for cattle
and corn - which they must badly need if Doris is so barren.

Otherwise —'

The Marshal stopped his pacing and stood beside my bed.
'Your wits are fuddled, lad! Wake up! Don't you see? Any
people who possess enough iron to forge it into swords and
spears can cut through bronze-armed soldiers as sickles mow
down grass. Iron will slice the best wrought bronze as though it
were mouldy cheese. Give me a thousand iron men and I
promise to conquer the world!'

'You've found one - and he's dead.'

Atreus glowered. 'We found him with the Goatmen. If they
and iron-armed Dorians combine we shall really be in trouble.
I'll send emissaries to Elis and Arcadia and across the Corinth
Gulf to find out what's going on.' His voice softened, a hand
stroked my hair. 'You're tired, Agamemnon, not recovered
from your hurts. Sleep now, and restore your strength. I had
intended you should stay at Rhipe another year, but ... In a
day or two you'll return with me to Mycenae, where you can
start again where you left off - learning a Companion's work

and driving battle chariots.'

* * *

Atreus left ten spearmen at Rhipe to help Diores guard his
stock; and grumbled expansively. 'A steady attrition of man­power: over the past two years I've had to leave detachments
at other outlying farms which suffered attacks from Goatmen.
The men I lose are husbandmen and soldiers both, so Mycenae's
tillage declines and her defences shrivel. The Goatmen have
been a pest for years; they're quickly becoming a danger!'

I bade Diores a sorrowful farewell, and clasped Gelon's hand.
Atreus remarked my friendship with the Scribe, and said
approvingly, 'A first-class accountant, Diores says, and an
excellent organizer. I'll soon have him back at Mycenae to
teach you administration, auditing stores and trading returns,
excise duties and profit and loss - a damned complicated busi­ness which I've never quite mastered myself.' I found Mycenae outwardly unchanged; within the palace
there were minor alterations. Atreus and my mother now
occupied an extensive suite overlooking the Great Court, the
rooms so splendidly furnished they surpassed the royal apart­ments.

Shortly after I left for the outlands the Marshal had married
Aerope. Weddings in Achaea are sedate and simple affairs, the
ceremony common to every rank of society. Atreus provided a
banquet in the hall for King Eurystheus and his Council while
Aerope, heavily veiled, waited with her ladies in a corner. With
the final collop swallowed and beaker of wine gulped down the
bride removed her veil, a Daughter cut a lock of her hair and
dedicated it to The Lady. Atreus bowed to Eurystheus on his
throne, faced the assembled nobles and took my mother's
wrist. 'I declare this woman my fond and willing wife.' The
king said, 'It is approved,' and that was that.

Plisthenes - my father and Aerope's living spouse - might
never have existed. The marriage cancelled him out. Even had
he been present and hammering at the doors the union would
still have been valid.

The king approved.

I believe Egypt and Phoenicia have permanent laws which
govern people's conduct and relations. But except for the
scales of murder fines no prescriptive laws exist anywhere in
Achaea: the kings and the lords of citadels make day-to-day
directives affecting their subjects' welfare; they alone decide
disputes and punish malefactors. Councils may advise, if asked.
Eurystheus occasionally allowed the Councillors' arguments to
influence his judgments; Atreus, later, never. From these de­cisions there is no appeal; the king's word
is
the law.

I paid my respects to my mother, who looked beautiful as
ever. She informed me she had abandoned her hunting and
chariot driving as inconsistent with the dignity of Mycenae's
paramount lady
-
and the sun was browning her face. (Ladies,
particularly palace ladies, take pride in preserving a pale com­plexion; lesser females have to brave the sun in performing
their daily tasks; so you judge a woman's status by the colour
of her skin.) She chattered trivialities, solicitously examined my
half healed scars and recommended a salve she had got from
the palace physician - a son of Aesculapius, the quack who ran
a medical school at Epidauros. She listened brightly to my
adventures and lost interest when a beefy, handsome Hero
entered the apartment with a message from her husband. Aerope fluttered her lashes; the Hero dithered adoringly.

I sidled out. My mother could never resist a man, and it did
her no good in the end.

I resumed my chariot driving under the tutelage of Atreus'
Companion Phylacus, a dour, taciturn man but a first-rate hand
with horses. I had often driven travelling chariots, heavy,
lumbering vehicles. Battle chariots are different as hawks from
herons, the carriage builder's art brought near perfection,
strength and lightness delicately balanced. Drawn by two fleet
horses - some experts added a trace horse, which Phylacus
thought dangerous - the body is very light: oxhide or wicker-
work covers a bentwood frame; you stand on a floor of plaited
oxhide strips. A stout leather thong runs from a figwood guard­rail to the yoke end of a single pole and supports the weight.
Four-spoked bronze-tyred wheels are naved on a beechwood
axle centred beneath the body.