Gregory

by Panos Ioannides

  “It was then that the treaties, which we are today in the unpleasant position of having to invoke, were concluded,” Talthyvios continued. “And afterwards, as an unofficial, personal testimony, you handed me your breastplate, as a gift for Agamemnon. Ever since, the great Agamemnon has never been separated from it, neither in battle nor on ceremonial occasions. But even more important than the famous breastplate, he asked me to stress that he is warmed by your friendship and gladdened by your leadership abilities, which prove that in reinforcing your first political struggles he was working for the glory of the race.”

  ‘Agamemnon sailed against Troy to create new colonies and new markets, everyone knows that. So let us drop the empty words,’ Cinyras thought. ‘And as for the latter issue, Agamemnon assisted me and supported me for a few weeks, or even a few years… But the productive years of my sovereignty were secured by my own policies.’

  “And so, after hesitations and vacillations, and especially after the treacherous decision of Achilles to withdraw his landing-forces from Troy - merely because Agamemnon had decided, rightly, that the beautiful Chrysiida, who shared Achilles’ bed, deserved to sleep in the bed of the Commander-in-Chief rather than that of a general - he was obliged to seek the contribution of heroic, Greek Cyprus in a pan-Hellenic struggle which, if it failed would lead to the complete destruction of Hellenism, while if it were successful it would widen our borders and increase our influence and power!”

  At these words Talthyvios fell silent. The days of traveling weighed on his joints as much as the armour of Ajax, which he had tried on at the auction that the officers had organized after the suicide of the innocent giant. And truly, what a story that was! To impale his bulky body on his spear, merely because the youth Evxias preferred to accompany Hector to Troy, although it was known that Hector was married, with a child, and could not remain faithful and devoted to him for long.

  Nevertheless, better dangerous passion than tedious certainty…

  Yes, it was high time that he, too, devoted himself to something, to someone, without, of course, letting himself be led to self-destruction. Surely the fact that for so many years now he had been moderate and well balanced was a guarantee that he would not go to extremes, was it not? Yes, he had a duty to utilize the opportunity afforded him by this journey to break out of his ten-year rut, to recover his manliness, which had evaporated under the brilliance of Agamemnon. Perhaps a priestess who invigorated her loins under the experienced pastoral staff of Cinyras and his priests would give him back his confidence and his youth, which he had dissolved in relating a glory which did not include him, achievements that he had not even witnessed, that he did not even believe in, conveying empty promises or repeating diplomatic phrases that he knew would be approved of by the viscous mind of his master. Yes, he ought, sparingly of course, to succumb to the hospitality of Cinyras!

  “And now I insist that the time has come to put aside affairs of state and to prepare ourselves for the banquet… The glorious banquet with which Paphos will honor our glorious friend Talthyvios, who happens to be also the envoy of the beloved Agamemnon!”

  And with these words, Cinyras descended from the throne and squeezed his wrist. A ring of gold, interwoven snakes pricked Talthyvios’ finger. Surreptitiously rubbing his hand, he said:

  “Your friendship honors me. I would be happy if I were worthy of it.”

  But Cinyras did not reply. He had called Queen Metharme and the Master of Ceremonies and was discussing various details of the banquet, forgetting that Talthyvios was waiting to hear once more that of course he was worthy of his friendship!

  Yes! This did not inspire confidence in the envoy of Agamemnon. Something in Cinyras’ whole attitude, in his cordiality, frightened him. He could not be so perfect! And if he were, it was a fault. The gods would not forgive him his perfection. They would find a way to cut him down to human size. Because, in truth, during the past thirty years Cinyras had taken on the proportions of a demigod. From Guardian of the Altar he had managed, with the support of the first temple prostitute, who was inseparable from him, because of his piety, to become High-Priest and later, an inexplicable accident having befallen Arch-Priest Tamirades in the sacred grove (an enormous branch had fallen from a tree in the shade of which the old man had been sleeping, crushing his venerable skull and thus extinguishing definitively the prelatical line of the Tamirades), an accident that few attributed to a deus ex machina, he was consecrated High Priest. From his new high office he had realized how useful to him was the widespread and until then unexploited faith in the Hellenic character of the island, and “revolting” against the manner in which the Assyrians and the other settlers controlled it economically and politically, he had begun a persistent campaign to enlighten public opinion and had succeeded in converting the Paphians’ envy at the comfort and prosperity of the invaders into explosive patriotism. The Motherland, rewarding him with military and economic assistance had provided him with the power to expel colonists and settlers and to lead a campaign for the systematic and complete hellenisation of Cyprus. Then later the Greek kings exerted all their influence to convince him that he was the only leader who could exploit to the full the successful outcome of the Paphians’ struggle and that the supreme national interest obliged him to accept the throne. Years of peace followed, during which Cinyras succeeded in healing most of the wounds that had been inflicted by the Assyrians and the long liberation struggle. However, there remained one open wound: the Amathusians, the neighbors of Paphos, whose intense opposition to his concentration of power was denounced by the Paphian King as ‘evasion, opportunism and irresponsibility’. When the envoys of Cinyras attempted to persuade them that it was in “the common interest” for them to adapt to the new realities of the situation, they escalated the difference of opinion into a political dispute and finally took up arms against Paphos with the assistance of the Assyrians, who naturally refused to accept that their influence in Cyprus belonged to the past. It was at that point that Agamemnon had sent Talthyvios with over a thousand soldiers to reinforce Cinyras.

  The Amathusians were utterly defeated after the Greek intervention and Talthyvios, on behalf of Agamemnon, had crowned him King of Amathus. After this new success, Cinyras began for reasons of security, to methodically concentrate power in his own hands and to increase it by appointing capable men as his chief collaborators, men with strong ears and weak tongues, as his subjects used to observe wryly. They even said, attempting to explain the miracle he had wrought, that he owed his success to the combination of virtues he had inherited from his ancestors: from his grandfather Pygmalion, who had earned immortal fame by his life-giving passion, which had resurrected Galatea, the power to crave with all the intensity of his soul. From his father Paphos, who had founded the allpowerful city-state, transforming the prostitution into the celebration of Aphrodite, the practical mind and the ability to “convert the weaknesses of others into his own strength”, as Zenon had once put it. ‘And from our own son, the unjustly-killed Adonis, the auriferous inspiration for the Mysteries!’ as Queen Metharme had once boasted.

  “Yes, that is a difficult man and no mistake!” thought Talthyvios, not without admiration. And he fixed his eyes again on the Cypriot King.

  Cinyras gazed absent-mindedly at the large mural opposite.

  A red-black bull sniffing at a lily. He appeared tranquil but Talthyvios felt that he was all a vibrating chord; he could almost hear the rapid bubbling of his thoughts.

  Cinyras turned and regarded him with his cold, piercing eyes. A friendly smile played over his whole face, which made the blood of Agamemnon’s envoy run cold. Something in that smile, something in that face, something in that cordial, fraternal gesture of the embrace, something in that voice which began to state that Talthyvios should not worry at all, because Cyprus would honor the agreement which bound its Leader, put Talthyvios in mind of that red-black bull which bent over the wild flower…

  Talthyvios had of course heard that the
clergy and the courtiers of Cinyras had ‘strong ears and weak tongues’. At that evening’s banquet, however, he learned that although the rumors were well-founded, there was an important difference: they were all excellently informed about everything, but their tongues were not at all weak in whispering in the ear of Cinyras or of the numerous secret agents who surrounded him at every step, whatever they knew or had heard or tried to hear… They were weak, or rather completely inert when the time came to express responsible views on public issues. At these embarrassing moments they preferred to mobilize their rare ability to acquiesce or to agree in advance with the views of Cinyras, without that offending their Leader at all.

  Talthyvios also noticed that another characteristic of all of them, Cinyras himself being no exception, was the eagerness with which they laughed at Cinyras’ jokes, which were not always in the best of taste. And again the speed with which they devoured the food which was continually replaced in the gold-trimmed vessels by the servants: mountain of beccaficos and quails, steaming fish on finely-chopped celery, white Cypriot cheese with mint, wild boar, moufflon with decorated horns, pheasants and of course pyramids of sweets and pastries, sprinkled with ground almonds or honey. He had never seen people eat so much nor discuss so passionately what they ate since his last visit to Cyprus. And he had traveled as an envoy of Agamemnon as far as the Hesperides!

  What a pity that he, a frugal eater thanks to his harshmilitary life, became satiated so quickly! It was with tremendous effort that he managed to swallow a morsel of a joint of moufflon which was commended to him by Cinyras and Queen Metharme. As far as the wine was concerned, though, there was no stopping him! He pulled towards him a triple-phallused amphora and repeatedly refilled his goblet. He would have to drink a lot more yet in order to be able to offer his libations to the priestess his host had promised him… Cut off for so many years from civilian life, accustomed to making love only to boys, in order to suddenly be able now to reconcile himself to the idea that he would be confronted by a woman, in order to loosen up, with the aid of the wine, he had to bridge a whole decade. Moreover, he was disturbed by the information that had been confided to him by the courtier sitting to his left, a debauched old man with twisted lips. The priestesses, he said, who had been consecrated during the last Aphrodisia, had been taught new, exciting methods of worship, such that a man had first of all to forget who he was and what he did in order to be able to give himself up to the pleasure without shame and aversion. ‘I am ill-prepared for such a trial’, he thought. Perhaps only if I become intoxicated will I come out un-humiliated…

  “What is our friend from Argos thinking about?” asked his fat neighbor, devouring a wild boar’s eye.

  “My companions at Troy”, he replied. “Truly I feel guilty about the pleasant hours I am spending over here, at the hospitable palace of Cinyras”.

  “Don’t spoil your evening, brother! And anyway, how do you know that at this very moment our brothers over there are not enjoying themselves just like us, in the looted apartments of Priam?”

  This reply only served to reawaken Talthyvios’ memory. It reminded him of his journey to the island and helped him to realize that this remark, which everyone had heard since the fat courtier spoke in a stentorian voice, afforded him an opportunity to indicate discreetly to Cinyras that it was time to put an end to his evasive replies and give a definite date for the embarkation of the ships. Moreover, a reminder of the treaty in front of the clergy and courtiers would further bind Cinyras. ‘Two birds with one stone,’ he thought. And, secretly smiling at his clever maneuver, he arose:

  “Great Cinyras! Venerable Metharme! Excellencies! Friends! Great brothers! My pleasure at being amongst you again, under your hospitable roof, is great, as is my sorrow that at Troy our armies, who are defending the honor and dignity of Hellenism, are facing utter disaster. The deceitfulness of our enemies and the well-known selfishness of one of the Kings tragically resulted in the firing of our fleet, cutting us off from the motherland. Thus, under the fortifications of Troy, there stalks the spectre of annihilation, along with the spectre of starvation. The necessity of relieving those tribulations brings me here, amongst you, amongst my beloved fellow-combatants, with whom I am united by so many common memories! I come on behalf of Agamemnon and all the Greeks to seek assistance from our Cypriot brethren: moral and material assistance; food and medicinal herbs, clothing and arms. And to ask for the implementation of the agreement signed after the Paphos-Amathus war: the authorization for fifty vessels to set sail immediately, in accordance with the treaties, as the great Cinyras undertook to provide if ever Agamemnon asked it. That time has certainly arrived… The ships must set sail immediately if the campaign is to be saved, a campaign which concerns all of Hellenism. This, my brothers, is the purpose of my presence here, so far from my duty. And Arch-Priest Cinyras promised this very day to fulfill this sacred oath, which underlines how firmly we are bound by aims and by blood. To his success I now drink this sweet wine of our beautiful, Greek Paphos!”

  And he raised the goblet. His toast hung in the air and remained unanswered. Not one of his table companions replied. Not one rose, as the age-old laws of hospitability demanded, from his seat. Not one wept with sincere Greek emotion. They all looked sidelong at Cinyras, who, scratching his beard, smiled enigmatically. In their eyes, Talthyvios was surprised to perceive, when Cinyras was not looking, reproof. And when he swept them with his severe regal gaze, the agony of the betrayed.

  A double-mouthed flute, which a naked female flautist had not stopped playing since the banquet began, vainly tried to fill the absolute silence which greeted the final phrases of the Greek envoy.

  Talthyvios put the goblet back on the table and sat down again with a feeling of guilt. What had he said that was out of place? What unpleasant memories had he aroused? Perhaps they did not have so many vessels as called for by the treaty? Perhaps he should have suggested that under the circumstances he would be grateful if Cinyras could provide even half of them. He could not surmise. He suddenly felt himself a stranger and an intruder. Perhaps it would be wiser to return to his chamber without expecting any visit that night… Or to be prudent and expect a visit, but vigilantly, with his sword in his hand and his armour under his bedding, in the form of a sleeping figure.

  Cinyras arose:

  “All that our beloved Talthyvios has said,” he began, gazing at the mural depicting a black bull with two red bulbs for eyes, on the opposite wall, “constitutes a sacred obligation jointly undertaken by all of us and which no one has ever conceived of denying or violating. I stated this directly from the very beginning to our noble guest and it grieves me that I was not categorical enough to convince him that it was unnecessary to raise the matter again on such an occasion, which if it has any purpose, is to celebrate the ill-favoured, alas, opportunity afforded us by an almost forgotten agreement to give practical proof to Greece of our boundless gratitude and everlasting friendship… If I did not over-emphasize my assurances, it was because I considered it inconceivable that any friend could doubt, even for a moment, the sacred oath of a Hierophant and a King. Because of course the oath that we all gave then will be honoured. The ships will set sail as soon as they return from Crete and Egypt. By the next full moon they will be at the complete disposal of Agamemnon at Troy, provided with all that our noble guest has requested and with over a thousand men, as many as the Motherland sent to our assistance then. This is a matter of honour and as such brooks no discussion nor vote. Moreover, all those here now have been briefed by me personally, each one separately, and no one raised any objections. On the contrary, suggestions were made for the sending of more ships and stronger landing-parties; suggestions that will be duly examined. Meanwhile, I consider it more reasonable to continue our banquet, turning our thoughts once more to Olympus and calling on Hestia to bring closer the day when we shall sit in this very hall with the Leader and the officers of the Greek army, in order to celebrate the victory!”

  He
raised his goblet and drank. Silently and stiffly they all got to their feet and copied him. Talthyvios regarded them and realized that something was amiss, that some game was being played behind his back. And it was necessary, it was his duty, to find out what it was and to outflank in some way the obstacle he saw looming between his goal and the Cypriot officials. When they sat down, he rose:

  “The reassurance of Cinyras has rendered this the most sacred hour of my life… And I would like to emphasize on behalf of Agamemnon and all the Greek officers that our gratitude at this gesture will be demonstrated in all its magnitude when the time comes for all those who have taken an active part in the campaign to be rewarded. The immense expanses of Troy which will be hellenized will have great need of Cypriot copper and I need hardly mention that in comparison with the new markets the Paphian monopolies in Assyria and Egypt will be as humble streams to the mighty Pactolus. As Zeus is my witness, I convey to you word for word the promise of Agamemnon!”

  In the eyes of the courtiers he perceived a gleam of avarice, which alas was not as intense as was merited by the unfounded promises he had given them in order to lull their anxieties. But sure that he had done and said all that he could, and satisfied by the public promise of Cinyras, he emptied the amphora. Curious! After his diplomatic battle, his appetite had returned. He smiled at his neighbour.

  “Is the eye of a wild boar really so tasty? Could I try one?”

  “Unfortunately I have eaten both of them”, the other replied. What would you say to the eye of a wounded deer?”