Warriors in Bronze (5 page)

Eurystheus rose creakily - winter's dampness stiffened his
joints. 'The Council is ended.'

I followed Atreus into the vestibule. He leaned against a
pillar and scrutinized, eyes remote, the accoutrements of a
sentinel who paced outside the portico. 'Fellow's helmet plume
needs combing,' the Marshal murmured. Then he clapped my
shoulder. 'I've had an idea for getting Hercules out. The moves

will have to be subtle, but I believe the plan will work.'

* * *

Jason concluded his arrangements and interviewed Heroes who
volunteered for Colchis. Meanwhile an outrider from Tiryns
announced Hercules was coming. I was engaged on the Field of War and missed his arrival. On
returning to the citadel I met an entourage gathered outside the
Northern Gate - and a villainous lot they looked. Diores identi­fied some characters as we passed: Iolaus, Hercules' nephew, a
bitter-faced young man, trap-mouthed and restless-eyed; and
Hercules' son Hyllus, not much older than I, a surly youth
with a brooding air. A seasoned bunch, their armour grimed
and dented
-
not the sort of men you would care to meet in a
narrow pass in the dark.

Hercules, Eurystheus and the Marshal were closeted in con­ference. I learned later they questioned him closely about the
Pylos escapade. Hercules, surprised and hurt, explained that his
cattle-thieving quarry had crossed into Pylian territory; and
during a night pursuit - typical of Hercules to go on fighting
after sundown - gave him the slip and he found himself at
dawn below the rock of Pylos. A quick reconnaissance dis­closed a yawning gate and sentries half asleep. Cheated of his
prey, irritable and frustrated, Hercules pounced on a heaven­-sent gift, caught the garrison literally napping, killed everyone
in sight, collected all the booty his warriors could carry and
marched away, satisfied with a job well done.

Atreus listened incredulously, met the king's despairing look
and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. They made no attempt to
expound the enormity of an unprovoked attack on a friendly
city: Hercules' brain was not of the kind to unravel political
niceties. Eurystheus, instead, casually mentioned Jason's mis­sion and suggested the dangers involved would daunt the
bravest paladin; men of proven valour flinched from a venture
so hazardous. Of the few that offered to serve, Jason chose only
the most renowned.

Hercules swallowed the bait like a hungry shark. 'Why
hasn't the idiot come straight to me? I'm just the leader he
wants!'

'I don't think,' said Atreus carefully, 'Jason is seeking a
leader; he's doing the job himself. He badly needs outstanding
warriors like you - but he's a very selective man.'

'Selective?' Hercules spluttered. 'He can't have doubts about
me!
He'll jump for joy if I join him. It's a chance to add to my
laurels, and Tiryns is damnably dull. If you'll release me for a
while I'll interview Jason and tell him I'm coming.'

Eurystheus kept his face impassive. 'It can be arranged.
Come to the Hall and take a cup of wine.'

There, relaxing in a chair, surrounded by admiring nobles, I
first met Hercules. I had expected a giant, and found instead a
person of middle height, almost as broad as he was long; tre­mendous muscles knotted a bulky body. He wore a lion skin -
summer or winter he never changed - and carried a knobbled
vine-staff. A shaggy man: tousled rust-coloured hair fell to his
shoulders, the beard cascaded across a barrel chest, a furry mat
swathed legs and arms. You could hardly see his face for all the
hair, only mad blue eyes that stared between the tresses. His
voice was high and squeaky, a chicken's cackle mouthed from
the frame of a bull.

I poured him wine in a golden cup and waited close beside
him: a moonstruck boy adoring a famous Hero, the remem­brance of Atreus' criticisms gone like mist at sunrise. Hercules
drained the goblet at a gulp. As I refilled it I asked, in reveren­tial tones, the history of the tawny hide he wore.

'Ha!' he squawked. 'Have you not heard of the Nemean lion,
my lad? Where have you been all your life? A monster which
killed cattle, men and horses, and nobody would face him. So,
naturally, they sent for me. The creature must have known I
was on his track, and went into hiding. Took me days to find
him. Cornered him at last on a rocky hillside, strung my bow
and shot. By The Lady, the brazen barbs glanced off his hide
like raindrops! I charged and swung my club; the wood
splintered on his ribs. Nothing left but my hands, so I closed
and strangled the brute.'

Hercules drank deeply, wiped his mouth. 'Not too difficult,
really, for a man of my courage and strength.'

Atreus entered the Hall, Jason rolling by his side, and inter­rupted Hercules' fascinating discourse. The Marshal said, 'Here,
Jason, is the Hero who wishes to sail in
Argo.
I promised you'd
be surprised - it's Hercules, no less!'

Hercules waved his cup. 'Ho, Jason, well met! I'm told
you want a champion to stiffen your force, set an example,
provide initiative and guts. You've found him! When do we
start?'

Jason's face showed none of the pleasure and gratitude befit­ting the occasion. 'Hercules, blast my eyes! Be damned if you
step on my deck! Anyone but you! Are you aware,' said Jason
tautly, 'that Neleus of Pylos, whose city you looted, whose sons
you slaughtered, is my uncle?'

'I didn't know,' said Hercules.

'Nor I,' Atreus murmured despondently, seeing the stratagem
he had woven shredding about his ears.

Hercules recovered his poise. 'Unfortunate, I admit, but these
things happen. Chances of war, my good fellow, chances of
war!'

Jason's weatherworn features suffused. Atreus seized his
elbow, led him aside and whispered energetically in his ear.
The sailor angrily shook his head. After a long confabulation
Atreus brought him back to Hercules who, between great gulps
of wine, bragged loudly about a gigantic stag he caught and
killed in Arcadia.

'I have persuaded Jason to overlook the - um - unfortunate
accident at Pylos. He agrees you should return with him to
Iolcos, and voyage in
Argo
to Colchis.'

Hercules belched. "Can't do without me. Bound to fail unless
you have the strongest and bravest Hero in Achaea to lead the
way. That's me. I'll find you your gold.'

He buried his nose in the goblet. Jason turned on his heel and
stamped from the Hall.

Atreus smiled contentedly as we crossed the Great Court
together. 'I had to promise Jason a sheep-flock's price in
treasure. Well worth it. But fancy voyaging to the ends of the
earth on the word of a wandering Thracian! These Argonauts
will vanish without trace - and we're rid of Hercules.' Atreus
chuckled. 'Pity about Jason, though. I like the chap. Now to
dispose of another nuisance.'

His eyes discouraged the question that trembled on my lips.

***

Hercules, Jason and the Heroes the king had chosen departed
for Iolcos. When Hercules tried to insist on taking his ragbag
following Jason tersely specified
Argo'
s strict capacity: fifty
men and stores were all she could embark. Hercules growled
and submitted. Hyllus and Iolaus led their retinue to Tiryns;
Atreus watched them go and tweaked his beard. 'We'll have to
evict those rascals before many moons have passed,' he re­flected aloud. 'Shouldn't be too difficult now the figurehead has
gone.'

The linchpins of Eurystheus' realm were Tiryns and My­cenae. Tiryns now lacked a Warden. The king accepted Atreus'
suggestion and nominated Thyestes.

Menelaus was one of Thyestes' squires and must accompany
him to Tiryns. We had never before been separated; both of us
felt the wrench. I asked him, while he packed his gear, whether
he enjoyed serving Thyestes.

Menelaus shrugged. 'I don't. Damnably free with his whip if
you make a mistake. He's surly and unapproachable, and keeps
his household nobles at a distance. Even his family fears him.
The only person Thyestes likes is a ten-year-old daughter,
Pelopia, and he dotes on the brat.'

I said, 'That curious creature Plisthenes lives in his household.
Do you ever see him?'

'Now and again. Most of the time he stays secluded in his
rooms. He's going with us to Tiryns - and I'd rather he wasn't.
Fellow gives me the creeps.'

Thyestes and his retinue departed on a beautiful springtime
day, warm and glorious, the light so clear you could see spears
glint on Argos' faraway hilltop. Atreus stood on the tower that
guarded the Northern Gate, and contemplated a vanishing dust
cloud pluming the Argos road. Thyestes' migration plainly
brought to a fruitful conclusion some devious design he con­cocted, and I expected him to be pleased. Atreus' demeanour,
on the contrary, was grave and forbidding. When the column
disappeared from sight he murmured under his breath, 'Thy­estes and Plisthenes gone. The way rolls clear ahead. The time
has come.'

He turned and laid a hand on my wrist. 'You believe me to
be your father?'

I stared, astounded. 'Of course. What else—'

'Such was my intention. So I have ordained it over the years
since Plisthenes
.
.He stopped. His grip tightened, vivid blue
eyes held mine.

'Prepare yourself for a shock, Agamemnon. I am your grand­father, and I'm going to marry your mother.'

My throat went dry, my legs were straws. 'You're my ... I
don't understand. Then
.
.. who is my father?'

'My son Plisthenes.'

Atreus guided me firmly down the steps. The compassionate
tone he had used to soften the revelation melted from his
voice, and he said brutally, 'Pull yourself together! The
heavens haven't fallen; nothing is changed. Sit on this bench -
and stop snivelling, boy! '­I collapsed on a stone bench some long-forgotten builder had
provided at the foot of the tower's steps. Atreus propped his
shoulders against the rampart's massive stones, and looked at
me balefully. 'Feeling better? Nothing, as I said, has changed.
Since infancy you have believed me to be your father. In all
but name I am. One generation divides us. What does it mat­ter?'