Warriors in Bronze

by George Shipway

  On reaching the thicket I bundled her into a chariot and took the reins, told Talthybius to mount the second car and the spearmen to make all speed for Sparta. Flogging the horses hard I galloped my prize to safety.

  * * *

  Naturally the affair raised a rumpus in the city: royal bride­grooms are rarely slain so quickly after the wedding. Tyn­dareus, professing astonishment and anger, vowed he would send a warband to annihilate Dracios' gang. (Later on he did so, and massacred every living being in Aigion. 'All the evidence gone,' he confided to me contentedly.) I won unmerited re­nown as the paladin who single-handed rescued Clytemnaistra from rape and death or slavery: the kind of Heroic feat the bards rejoice in telling. Only Talthybius doubted: I saw ques­tions in his eyes that wisely never passed his lips. Menelaus had his suspicions. 'I can't twig what you've been up to, brother,' he snorted, 'but it's unlike you to plunge your hand in a hornets' nest unless you've made sure you won't get stung. Death or glory escapades are not in your line at all.'

  I laughed, and swore he was jealous.

  Clytemnaistra, meanwhile, retired into the ladies' quarters and nursed her grief. We had exchanged hardly a word during the rapid ride from the ambush; after delivering her at the palace I saw her only at a distance and made no attempt to accost her. 'Leave her alone,' the king recommended. 'She'll recover soon enough. The girl's tough as thrice-boiled oxhide.'

  The summer days rolled past, sharpening to winter and mel­lowing into spring. Clytemnaistra emerged from her seclusion, discarded her mourning veil and shared in the palace's pas­times. I met her on social occasions, exchanged civilities and received belated thanks for saving her from Dracios. (By that time he was dead.) I was careful to alter my approach, eschew­ing the banter and bawdy hints which formerly marked my wooing. Instead I endeavoured to impress myself upon her as a serious, respectable and eminently eligible suitor.

  Which turned out damnably difficult. While engaging her in edifying and horribly boring prattle I craved to fondle those arrogant breasts, to stroke her belly and loins, probe the secret mysteries hidden between her thighs. I felt so madly lustful whenever I was near her I even forgot the benefits - political and pecuniary - that marriage to King Tyndareus' daughter would scatter in my lap.My restrained and sympathetic demeanour gradually thawed Clytemnaistra's icy reserve; slowly she recovered her acid sense of humour. We conversed easily, without constraint; and she accepted me as her regular escort when walking abroad or driving: a habit Tyndareus subtly encouraged. So, on a sunny springtime afternoon we strolled a path that led to the Field of War where the Twins had arranged an archery competition. At the drystone parapet of a roadside well I stopped, took courage in both hands and said, 'My lady, I have something important to ask you.'

  'Here and now?' Clytemnaistra looked at the cheerful throng that surrounded the Field an arrow-shot from where we stood. 'Already we're late for the contest - and Castor has wagered a two-year-old bull on his winning.'

  'I beseech you to listen.'

  Thoughtfully she scanned my face, recognized the urgency and fervour. 'Leave us, Melite,' she told the lady-in-waiting hovering at her elbow. 'Now, my lord, what is it so crucial that archery must wait?'

  'With the king's approval, Clytemnaistra, I offer you my hand in marriage.' I embarked on the ritual pedigree chant accompanying formal proposals. 'I, Agamemnon son of Plis­thenes son of Atreus son of Pelops son of Tantalus sprung from the blood of Zeus declare I shall endow —'

  That's enough.' She perched on the well-head's coping, smoothed the pearl-trimmed frill that aproned a billowing skirt. I know your ancestry, my lord, and a good deal more about you than you think. My father has already pressed me to accept you, declaring that in becoming your wife I shall also become in time Mycenae's queen. How can I be queen of a city your foremost enemy holds? I'm no believer in dreams, my lord.'

  'Nor I. I shall regain my throne.'

  Clytemnaistra plucked off a loosely sewn pearl, dropped it into the well, lifted her head and stared me in the eyes. 'Will you swear on The Lady's Womb ?'

  I blenched. No one can accuse me of being over-superstitious, but there are certain vows too terrible to be lightly undertaken. Then I looked at the thrusting breasts, swallowed and said, 'On The Lady's Womb I swear it.'

  Triumph glinted briefly in hard green eyes. 'Unendurable torments rack those who break that oath, agonies such as mortals cannot imagine; death, when it comes, is greeted as happy deliverance. I will be your wife, Agamemnon.'

  A shout of applause thrummed the air from the Field of War. I said uncomfortably, 'You take me in the hope of win­ning a crown: ambition compels consent. Have you no liking for me as a man, Clytemnaistra, or even love?'

  'Love? Liking? Can emotions so fragile endure in a union such as ours - a marriage based for your part on carnality and policy? Don't look so surprised: I read your motives plainly from the start. As for me, my lord, love died in the pass near Aigion. I am a widow, no longer virgin, and desire simply to retrieve what I can from the wreckage of my life. Do you blame me, drowning in a quagmire of despair, for seizing a rescuing rope?'

  I can see now, in the face of so blatant a declaration, I should there and then have abandoned my intentions, ought to have run from Clytemnaistra as from a deadly disease. Instead, recalling the labours involved in building a bridge of deceit and dishonour to span the void that yawned before my goal, I said weakly, 'Time heals wounds. I shall cherish you, my dear, and help you forget the miseries you have suffered.'

  I took her hand and helped her from the wall. She said lightly, 'If you plight your troth on a well-head are the omens fair or foul? I must ask the Daughters. And now, my lord, let's go to the Field and discover whether Castor has won his wager.'

  * * *

  Our wedding celebrations coincided with the arrival in Sparta of Theseus King of Athens. Tyndareus, an economical man, organized joint festivities. Ostensibly Theseus had come in re­sponse to feelers the king had put out for an alliance against Thebes; an excuse which gratified the Athenian's restless itch for adventure and exploration. I had not set eyes on the man since he deserted Ariadne in Naxos. The years had changed his appearance, tinging grey the sun-bleached hair and beetling bushy brows, sinking deep in the sockets his flint-grey eyes. That his perfidy stayed constant was soon apparent.Theseus' wife had recently hanged herself after unsuccess­fully attempting to rape her husband's stepson. Her death removed the last restraint on Theseus' fornications. Gentlemen in general keep concubines to slake desire; but the King of Athens preferred to sink his shaft in ladies of noble birth: a dangerous quirk invariably leading to trouble. Resounding scandals erupted from frequent rapes and seductions; no good- looking woman, young or old, was safe from his depredations. Certain Athenian Heroes, discerning Theseus' lineaments re­flected in their children, were growing a little tired of their ruler, particularly as with increasing age he neglected govern­mental duties and wandered far and wide in search of fresh adulteries. Nor did he confine himself to the opposite sex. A Thessalian called Peirithoos accompanied him everywhere; sel­dom were the couple seen apart. I have not the slightest doubt that Theseus practised sodomy among his other vices - a disease, perhaps, that Athens caught from Thebes.

  Tyndareus, content that his diplomacy, seemed to be bearing fruit, feasted the visitor liberally and entertained him royally. Theseus happily accepted everything he was offered; when, between the revels, Tyndareus in Council tried to pin him down to business the Athenian proved considerably less forth­coming. Like every creature bred in that nasty city he was devious and evasive and obviously dishonest. Tyndareus tried bribery - he didn't call it bribery, of course - and Theseus received golden dishes, cauldrons, bronze and thoroughbred horses and tendered airy promises in return. Tyndareus never managed to bind him by an oath, nor would Theseus instruct his Scribes to draw a written compact. The Spartan sadly recognized he had landed in his net a fish too slippery to hold.

  Theseus, in short, had no interest in
alliances; though he certainly showed eagerness in other directions. His evil reputa­tion caused sensible husbands and fathers to keep a vigilant watch on any female relatives who attracted his attention. I regret to state that a number of ladies shamelessly encouraged his advances; how far the liaisons went I wouldn't care to guess. (The hussies still live in Sparta, still united to their men : what point in dredging up old gossip?) Nobody - except the husbands concerned - minded Theseus' intrigues overmuch; but when he started ogling Tyndareus' younger daughter the most phlegmatic Heroes began to simmer.Helen was rising fourteen, a lovely, vivacious child. Even at that early age she allured men like bees aswarm on heather. Whether she was conscious of her prowess is hard to say; I suspect she had a fairly good idea. I hasten to add I ascribe to the gentlemen forming her little court the most irreproachable motives: her gaiety and beauty aroused in their hearts - I think - nothing but innocent pleasure. Prominent among her devotees was my brother Menelaus. Continually you saw them hand in hand about the palace, a beautiful gold-haired girl and strong-limbed red-headed Hero. He took her in his chariot and pretended to let her drive, small fingers on the reins guided and protected by sinewy brown hands; he gave her a miniature bow and taught her to shoot. Under his tuition Helen was developing into something of a tomboy; her ladies in waiting clicked disapproving tongues.

  Surveying these diversions I once jokingly twitted Menelaus on the subject of dirty old men. (Unjustly; he was barely thirty- two.) My brother was not amused. 'Keep your filth behind your teeth,' he snapped, 'or you and I will find ourselves at odds.'

  Into this charming idyll Theseus swooped like a vulture hunting carrion. He flattered Helen, showered her with gifts - gold bracelets, necklaces and earrings - and ousted from her company and favour a coterie of Heroes and Companions. In­hibited by the knowledge the Athenian was a guest from whom Tyndareus wanted favours, they could not snub the intruder as he deserved. Menelaus, likewise a guest relying entirely on the king's benevolence, raged impotently and was rude as he dared be. Helen, the fickle hussy, cold-shouldered her fuming followers and wantonly encouraged her admirer who, I must admit, had thoroughly mastered the methods of winning a woman's heart. What motivated the man is hard to say. I can only conclude he was so frenetically over-sexed that anything in skirts became a goal to be attained whatever the cost.

  The price, in the event, soared high for all concerned.

  In the midst of these commotions I married Clytemnaistra. After the celebratory banquet I led her to a bridal suite the king had bestowed, allowed my squires to undress me and impatiently awaited my bride's arrival in bed. When at last her ladies were gone I entered the bedroom stark, and hot as a stag in rut. Clytemnaistra lay naked, coverlet cast aside, her magni­ficent ivory body a vision to animate stones.

  I curbed my ardour, stretched beside her, kissed her lips and caressed her breasts. Thence, gently and excitingly, to belly and loins. She stayed still as a marble image. I used every art to arouse her, every provocation my concubines had taught. I might as well have tickled a corpse. Unable any longer to control my frenzy I straddled the inert form and forced her thighs apart. She shifted her buttocks and made herself com­fortable, sighed a little and inspected the ceiling. Vigorously plunging and heaving, I won not the slightest response. Nettled by her lethargy I braided my energies and, before dawnlight paled the windows, pierced her four times more. Clytemnaistra passively submitted.

  Bewildered and exhausted, I summoned slaves and squires and went to have a bath.

  It was all most disappointing.

  * * *

  Events a few days later swamped marital frustrations. Theseus and his Heroes failed to appear in the Hall for noonday dinner. Somebody suggested they might have gone hunting independ­ently: a breach of manners unsurprising in Athenians. A search of the palace environs disclosed followers and spearmen still in quarters, but not a Hero or Companion anywhere in the city. Nobody could say where they had gone. The king testily opined, since their retinues remained in Sparta, his errant visitors would reappear next day.

  Then a frantic lady in waiting, weeping and wringing her hands, announced Helen was nowhere to be found. Apparently the child had gone with Theseus in his chariot: a not unusual occurrence, for he had displaced Menelaus in the little hoyden's favour. Although the sun was sinking the king instantly ord­ered charioteers to hunt his missing guests. Nightfall ended the quest; the search parties returned home. Tyndareus confidently asserted that Helen's disappearance was simply a thoughtless escapade. At dawn the seekers went out again.Castor and Polydeuces, quartering the countryside, uncovered the quarry's tracks. The lord of a small citadel a day's foot- journey north from Sparta told them Theseus and a retinue, driving fast, had passed his gates the previous day on a road that led to Tegea. He had noticed in their company a young and pretty girl.

  The Twins returned to Sparta at a gallop.

  'Theseus will have passed Tegea by now, heading for Mantinea,' Castor told his father.

  'Then he'll strike to Argos across the mountains,' Polydeuces surmised.

  'Kidnapped Helen.'

  'Taking her to Athens.'

  'Can't catch him before he's bolted into his burrow.'

  'Got too long a start.'

  Tyndareus, in a flaring temper, mustered an armoured war- band from every Hero present in the palace, put the Twins in command and ordered a chase. 'This is war,' he said. 'If necessary you'll pursue to the walls of Athens. I'll mobilize and send the Host in support, but while it's on the march your chariots must fight alone. Whatever happens,' he ended grimly, 'don't show me your faces again until you've recovered Helen.'

  Menelaus insisted on accompanying the Twins; afterwards he described to me the Spartan war in Attica. Fifty chariots headed north on Theseus' trail and halted the first sundown in a coppice near Tegea. A shepherd who bartered mutton for their supper related an infuriating tale. A band of Heroes stop­ping to water horses in his pasture had drawn straws for pos­session of a girl-child in the party. The leader, whom he accurately described, had won.

  'Sodding bastard Theseus,' Menelaus gritted.

  Before sun-up they yoked horses, galloped through Mantinea, traversed laboriously the winding mountain passes and de­scended into the Argive Plain. At Argos they again night- halted; Diomedes gave the travel-worn Heroes shelter and food in the palace and seven Venetic horses in exchange for animals lamed by the hectic pace. On the third day, by-passing My­cenae, the warband reached Corinth. The Twins passionately urged they press on across the Isthmus; Menelaus, more provi­dent, refused to attempt the fearsome road past Sciron's Rocks in darkness. The Warden (Bunus' replacement) said Theseus was a full day's march ahead and going like a hunted hare. A laughing girl in his chariot seemed to be relishing the headlong ride.

  Menelaus tore his hair. The Twins muttered joint obscenities.

  After crossing the Isthmus they journeyed till dark and camped near Eleusis. The band was now in Attica, a land assumed to be hostile. They leaguered chariots, mounted guards and counted the cost of a whirlwind drive over bonebreaking roads and rugged mountains. Forty-two chariots remained in harness; the rest had been left at the wayside with broken axles, wheels and poles. Limping horses disposed of a couple more.

  The Twins debated plans.

  'Failed to catch the turd,' Castor said despondently. 'Holed up now in Athens.'

  'Can't take the place with forty chariots,' Polydeuces com­plained.

  'Have to wait for the Host.'

  'Won't arrive for days.'

  'We can't sit here doing nothing,' Menelaus declared sav­agely. 'We've numbers enough to ravage the land, burn villages and crops, kill cattle. By harassing his property we may tempt Theseus out.'

  The Twins cheered up; Menelaus' advice accorded with their own impetuous natures. For the next three days the Spartans wreaked an orgy of destruction, moving fast from village to village and setting the fields alight. They avoided fortified citadels, but audaciously raided a harbour ri
ght under Athens' nose and burned fishing boats and galleys. Daily they expected warbands hurtling from the citadel seeking vengeance, daily they were disappointed. Theseus stayed firmly behind his walls.

  Commanded by Tyndareus' warlord Marathus, the Spartan Host, chariots, spears and baggage, reached Eleusis. The opera­tions thenceforth assumed the character of a war of extermi­nation. Smoke clouds smeared the heavens above Attica, a stench of death and burning soured the air. Marathus attacked citadels the Twins perforce had spared, razed walls and mas­sacred garrisons. A tardy Athenian warband was driven helter- skelter from the field. When little was left to destroy the Host surrounded Athens, blenched at the daunting citadel towering on its rock, and sent heralds to demand Helen's surrender.

  "Don't know what the blazes we can do if Theseus refuses,' Castor said.

  Tricky,' Polydeuces agreed. 'Athens is quite impregnable.'

  The heralds brought back the surprising announcement that Theseus, days before, had taken ship and sailed for an un­known port. A certain Menestheus, a sprig of the royal House, now ruled Athens as Regent. Menestheus swore ignorance of Helen's whereabouts; Theseus before he fled had despatched her secretly to some hiding place in Attica. Would the Spartans please find her quickly, the Regent implored, leave Athens' ter­ritory and allow her population to repair the havoc wrought.