by Hilary Green
For me the days that followed had a sense of unreality. There was nothing for me to do except wait. I was no longer the carefree prince of a month ago, but as a king I was without power or purpose. All that remained to me was the perpetual ritual that surrounds a king and the struggle to keep up the spirits of my remaining followers. We exercised every day and practised military manoeuvres, so that when the time came to fight we should be ready, and over the days our numbers grew as more refugees arrived from Messenia. From them we learned that the whole country was now in Dorian hands and the stories they had to tell only served to make us hate the invaders more than ever.
One thing that continued to fascinate me was the great citadel of Mycenae itself. Seeing my interest, Tisamenos himself took me on a tour of the palace. He was by nature a builder and showed me with pride the various improvements he had made. His great ambition, however, remained unfulfilled. He wanted to create a Grand Staircase leading up to the palace courtyard in order to provide a more impressive approach. Penthilos, however, had other ideas. He declared that there were far more urgent defence measures, which should take priority.
‘Defence measures?’ I exclaimed. ‘What better defences could Mycenae possibly need?’
He smiled briefly. ‘No doubt it looks very impressive to you, as indeed it is. But there are still weaknesses. The northeast corner is one. At that point the wall does not take in the whole of the hilltop, which gives an enemy a chance to muster on level ground before making an assault. If it extended to the edge of the slope it would be much more easily defended. And it would have the added advantage of giving us better access to water. The spring of Perseus is just beyond the wall at that point. We could construct a covered way, part of it underground, to reach the spring, even during a siege.’
‘Will it be done, do you think?’ I asked.
He looked grim. ‘It may have to be. These are unsettled times.’
Another source of disturbance to me during that time was the behaviour of Antilochos. I spent a good deal of my free time in Penthilos’s apartments, finding his company more congenial than that of Tisamenos and his sons. When he was busy, as he often was, I would sit and talk with Karpathia and often some of the other ladies would sit with us. I was always attended by some of my Companions and we would while away a pleasant hour or two in idle chatter. To my surprise Antilochos formed the habit of joining us. He had always had a facility for superficial charm when he wanted to employ it and now he seemed determined to make a good impression. His company gave me no pleasure but I knew that it would be a mistake to rebuff him, so I tolerated his presence with the best grace I could muster.
It was not long before I realised that this change in his behaviour had nothing to do with me. Quite often Erigone and Myrtilis were present and Antilochos turned most of his charm on them. It was true that there were few men in the party who could keep their eyes away from Myrtilis, and I was uncomfortably aware that Alectryon was still enthralled by her beauty, but it was Antilochos who claimed most of her attention.
At last the spies whom Penthilos had sent out returned. The Dorians were consolidating their power. The sooner we could move the better. Penthilos announced that the army was ready and sent a small scouting party on ahead. At a solemn sacrifice the omens were taken and an auspicious day chosen for our departure. It was further ahead than my impatience required but the priests were adamant. To move earlier would be to invite disaster. So we waited.
Then, two days before we were due to march, a messenger arrived. The advance party had met up with some of Penthilos’s men who had been left to keep an eye on our enemies. The Dorians had embarked their main army and sailed southwards. Only a small force was left to hold Pylos. I was with Tisamenos and his Lawagetas when the news arrived and when I heard it I jumped to my feet, laughing with relief.
‘Then we can march into Pylos almost unopposed!’
They looked at me, grim faced. Penthilos said, ‘We do not know where the Dorians are heading for. We cannot leave the Argolid undefended.’
Chapter 13
My first impulse was to take my Pylians and march homewards, but Tisamenos dissuaded me. We were not enough to challenge even the small holding force the Dorians had left in Pylos.
It was not long before we knew where their main army was headed. Their ships were sighted sailing up the gulf towards Argos, the port of Mycenae. Immediately orders were given to march and the chariots of the Mycenean war-lords rattled out under the Lion Gate. I had been given my wish in this, at least, and the Pylians marched as a distinct company, under my command. The Myceneans sang and shouted ribald jokes as we marched down the valley, but my men were silent and grim faced. We had met the Dorians before.
On the flat land at the head of the gulf we joined up with a force from Tiryns and awaited the enemy fleet. I looked around at the great army that was gathered and roused the spirits of my men with promises of victory.
I will not dwell on how those promises were broken. The Dorians had been reinforced, for their numbers were greater than ever, and from the moment they stormed from their ships, urged on by the wild braying of their war trumpets, I could see the spirit going out of the Myceneans. They were picked men, highly trained and well armed, but they could not stand against this horde in which every man wielded a sword, albeit an iron one.
The land here was better for chariots than the uneven and sandy country near my home and we made some progress at first with massed chariot charges, but soon the sea of men closed round us and we had to fight on foot. I fought with a black, despairing fury, Alectryon on my right hand and Melanthos on my left, while our charioteers kept our horses just behind us, ready in case of need. From time to time I got a glimpse of Cresphontes and battled to get near him, but he was too well guarded.
At length came the moment when the Mycenean force broke and turned and began to stream away, back towards the citadel. There was nothing to do but regain our chariots and follow them at full speed. We lost Pleuronios, one of the remaining Companions, in that fight but no others of rank. The Mycenean losses were very heavy.
The Dorians did not pursue us, for we had exacted a price from them also. Halfway across the plain Penthilos succeeded in halting his troops and we sent back a herald to ask for a truce in order to recover the bodies of our dead. They granted it, and when the bodies were brought in, all of them stripped of their armour and other valuables, we made a huge pyre and burnt them. There seemed little point in burying them in ground so soon to be overrun by the enemy. This done, we returned to Mycenae.
It was clear that we could not expect many days’ grace before the Dorians followed up their advantage. The interval was spent in preparations for a siege. Then came the message that the enemy were on the march. Penthilos left a force to hold the walls and marched out again to oppose their advance. Archers on the hills harassed the enemy’s flanks and for a day of bitter fighting we made them pay for every forward step they took, but at evening we had to fall back and take refuge in the citadel.
Every inch of space within the walls was packed, for all those who lived in the houses clustered below or along the slopes of the hills had crowded in, with their livestock and belongings. I wondered for how long such a multitude could be fed under siege conditions.
I joined the King and his officers in the courtyard of the palace. From here we could look out beyond the walls to where the Dorians were making camp for the night. All round us hundreds of watch fires gleamed in the darkness. We could hear the hubbub of the wakeful city and the restless army. I cradled my left arm, on which a hastily bandaged wound throbbed relentlessly. Suddenly someone gave a cry and pointed. In the town below a spurt of flame licked up and then grew rapidly to a great blaze.
Tisamenos said, ‘They have fired the buildings in the Lower City. That must be the unguent-maker’s workshop. The oil in the store-rooms would blaze like that.’
The Lower City burned for most of the night. At first light we manned the walls. I took m
y station with Tisamenos and Penthilos outside the entrance to the palace, where we could overlook a large sweep of the walls, including the main gate. The first attack came soon after sunrise. They began with a frontal assault on the gate and I saw Penthilos smile for the first time in days.
‘They clearly haven’t got much experience of siege-craft!’
Wave after wave of attackers swept up the narrow defile before the gate, to be mown down by the archers on the bastion that defended it. Finally the Dorians abandoned the attempt and drew off to think again. Then came an attack on the walls, easily beaten off since they had no scaling ladders, nor any other equipment for attacking a walled city. After that they withdrew again and there was no more fighting for that day.
By the following dawn they had constructed a number of ladders and the attack began as soon as there was light enough. This time it went on all day. To begin with it was a time of agonising inactivity for me. My Pylian foot soldiers had been used to help man the walls but there was no employment for those of us trained to chariot fighting. Then came the message that the defenders were in difficulty along the northeast wall. Penthilos rushed off in that direction and I followed, calling my Companions to come with me.
As Penthilos had predicted the attackers had succeeded in massing on the level hilltop beyond the wall and were pressing their advantage vigorously. Every sword was needed here and we flung ourselves into the battle. At some point I heard someone yell ‘The palace is burning!’ but there was no time to investigate. It seemed for a while as if there would be no end to the faces that glared up at me as they flung themselves at the scaling ladders and then fell back, dead or wounded. Then I noticed a slight wavering and thinning in the crowd of attackers and in the middle of them I caught sight of Cresphontes, urging his men on with shouts and waves of his sword.
I leapt up on the wall and yelled, ‘Cresphontes!’
He knew my voice and looked towards me. All round the battle suddenly stilled and men stared up at me. I shouted, ‘You and I have a personal score to settle. Call your men off and let us settle that first, man to man.’
He gazed at me for a long moment. Even across the distance I could feel the power of those hawk-like eyes. Then he threw back his head and laughed derisively.
I yelled, ‘I killed Xouthos, Cresphontes!’
His laughter stopped and I saw him gesture to a man beside him who held a bow. In that instant Alectryon flung himself upon me and toppled me bodily off the wall, the two of us only being saved from crashing to the ground by falling into the arms of our friends. As we fell an arrow sang over us and embedded itself in the ground beyond. The man with Cresphontes was no mean marksman. The arrow had passed exactly where I had been standing a heartbeat before.
I struggled to my feet, shook off the hands of those who had caught me, and turned to Alectryon. He went on one knee and started apologising for manhandling me. I yanked him to his feet. ‘Don’t be a fool! You saved my life – again.’
He caught my eye and suddenly the old familiar look of exasperated amusement broke across his face. ‘Well, I suppose I’ll just have to make sure I’m always around to do it.’
While I stood on the wall I had noticed something and the seed of an idea had taken root in my mind. I turned to Penthilos. ‘If you opened the postern I could lead a charge and take them in the flank.’
He considered for a moment, then said, ‘Let us see what the situation is.’
The postern gate had proved as impregnable as the main gate and the attackers had abandoned it in favour of the assault on the walls. The ground beyond it was clear. I shouted for volunteers to make a sally with me. Alectryon was at my side at once, Melanthos and Perimedes followed with the rest of my Companions. Antilochos was last to join us and I could not see Neritos. A band of men, Pylians and Myceneans alike, gathered round us.
When I had told them the plan we formed up behind the postern gate. As we waited for it to be opened Alectryon caught my eye again and grinned. Time rolled back a year.
‘Satisfied?’
‘What?’
‘You always wanted to be a hero.’
Then the gate opened and we charged out. We took the Dorians completely by surprise and swept on to clear the hilltop. As we turned to withdraw I missed Melanthos at my left hand and swung about to search for him. Alectryon yelled at me to come but I shouted back ‘Melanthos!’ and he rejoined me at once. We found Melanthos pinned to the ground by a spear that had passed through the fleshy part of his calf. He was tugging at it desperately and around the edge of the hilltop the Dorians were regrouping for a fresh charge.
Then I heard the war cry of the Neleids behind me and my followers rushed back to surround us, led by Perimedes. They charged the Dorians again to give us time to free Melanthos. Alectryon seized the spear and jerked it out and between us we picked up our comrade and ran for the gate. The rest of the force covered us until we were safely inside, and the defenders greeted us with ringing cheers.
While we were waiting for the surgeon to attend Melanthos we heard a second cheer go up. The Dorians were falling back. Before long all fighting had ceased.
We stood to arms for the rest of the day, uneasily watching the Dorian camp. Towards sunset they sent a herald to ask for a truce so that both sides could collect their dead. Tisamenos granted it and we went to our homes to disarm. To my relief I found Neritos in his room, next to my own, being tended by Karpathia and Andria. He had a nasty head wound and was only half conscious but he tried to mumble apologies for not being at my side during the battle. I brushed them aside and gripped his hand.
He gave me a shadow of his old, cheeky grin and said, ‘I wish I had been there, though. I heard about it. You are the hero of the day.’
Later that evening I got a message asking me to go to Melanthos, since he was unable to come to me. I found him in bed, white as his linen but clear-eyed. He began to thank me for saving his life but I put it aside, saying I knew he would have done as much for me.
He answered, ‘If I am ever able to offer you help or service beyond the demands of my duty to you as my King I shall do my best to repay you. But since that duty comprehends all service, I can only ask you to accept my gratitude.’
I was to remember those words.
We slept uneasily that night, wondering how long we could hold out against these ferocious attacks, but at dawn a cry went up from the watchmen on the ramparts. I leapt out of bed, seized my sword and ran to the terrace. Below, beyond the burned remains of the Lower City, the Dorian camp was deserted. During the night the enemy had withdrawn.
I dressed and hurried to the main courtyard. It was here that the fire had been started by a fire-arrow the day before. A good deal of damage had been done to the southwestern end, opposite the megaron, but the fire had been contained there. Tisamenos looked at the damage to his palace and gave me a weary smile.
‘Well, at least now I shall have to rebuild this section. I may as well have the Grand Staircase added at the same time.’
The Dorians had withdrawn, carrying off with them grain and cattle and anything else of value they could lay their hands on. Sacrifices of thanksgiving were made to the Lady and all the Gods and the people of Mycenae set about rebuilding their city. Some days later we heard that the Dorians were back in Pylos again.
When the news arrived I was summoned to confer with the King and his Lawagetas. Tisamenos was looking uncomfortable and Penthilos’s face was grim. When I was seated Tisamenos began, ‘Brother Alkmaion, we promised to restore you to your kingdom. It was a promise made in good faith and it may yet be kept. But you have seen that we cannot meet the Dorians in a pitched battle. If we tried now to attack them in Pylos, where they have made themselves strong, all the advantages would be on their side. Our army might well be destroyed and then Mycenae would be at their mercy too.’
He paused and I sat with bowed head. I had known in my heart ever since the battle on the plain that it would be so, but to hear it spoken brough
t the hot tears to my eyes to shame me.
Tisamenos went on, ‘The summer is well advanced and soon it will be harvest time. It is too late in the year to set out on a long campaign and our forces are greatly depleted after the recent battles. Therefore, I beg you, content yourself to be our honoured guest for this winter – you and your family, and all your followers. When the spring comes we will see what can be done. Before the summer ends I will send out my ambassadors to Athens and Crete and all the other cities whose rulers own me as their liege lord. Next spring we will muster a force, greater even than that which went to Troy, and drive the Dorians from our lands. What do you say?’
What could I say? The winter lay before me like a long corridor of darkness, but I knew that Tisamenos had spoken wisely. The idea of the gathering of all the Achaean powers in a great confederation excited me, and gave some comfort. I thanked him humbly for his hospitality and told him that I was entirely in his hands.
When I returned to my own apartments I sent for Alectryon and told him the news. He gave me one of his long, silent looks, reading my thoughts as easily as a scribe reads the scratches on a clay tablet, and then said, ‘Why are you down hearted? I believe the Gods heard your prayers when you longed for an opportunity to rank yourself with Achilles and Odysseus. Already you have won yourself an enduring name for courage. Now you will help to lead a great expedition which the bards will mention in the same breath as the war with Troy.’