Warriors in Bronze Read Free Page B

not altogether account for the awkwardness I felt when talking to them together, an embarrassment never sensed when I met them individually.
    Which was strange, for where else should my father be
    except at my mother's side ?
    * * *
    A messenger driving lathered horses arrived from Tiryns with news that flung the palace into confusion. That remote, maj­estic figure King Eurystheus of Mycenae hastily called his Councillors to the Throne Room and, behind closed doors, debated an intelligence which was obviously disturbing. With a fourteen-year-old's avid curiosity aroused I loitered in the vestibule until the Councillors, looking serious, spilled into the Court. Atreus came out last, walking slowly, chin in hand. His eyes lighted on my face and the absent expression cleared.
    'Anxious to discover what it's all about? Well, there's no harm and' - he spoke half to himself - 'it's time you began to learn the intricacies of government. Word has come to Tiryns that Hercules sacked Pylos and killed all King Neleus' sons save only Nestor.'
    Everyone knew of Hercules, Warden of Tiryns, who years before had left his native Thebes under a cloud, fled to My­cenae and taken service under King Eurystheus. He was a mighty warrior whose deeds resounded throughout the land and far beyond the seas.
    I said so.
    'Maybe,' said Atreus sourly. 'The king at first employed him as a huntsman, and Hercules - by nature a rover - roamed all over Achaea destroying beasts of prey. If you judged by his bragging you'd conclude that no one else had killed lions and boars before. Over the years he developed into a sort of hatchet man and troubleshooter - Eurystheus allotted him all kinds of unpleasant labours. He's collected during his travels a ruffianly gang, scum of every description, commanded - so far as they can be commanded - by his son Hyllus.'
    'How did it happen,' I asked, 'that Hercules became Warden of Tiryns?'
    Atreus sighed. 'The man is a robber, a freebooter, and more than a little mad. He lifted cattle and horses; and angry rulers, knowing him Eurystheus' man, sent embassies to complain. The king recalled Hercules and, to keep him quiet, gave him charge of Tiryns.''Yet he has managed to sack Pylos.'
    'He led a warband into Arcadia in pursuit of cattle raiders.' Atreus gritted his teeth. 'Fair enough - but he lost the rustlers- track and instead marched clean across Achaea to attack a realm with which we have no quarrel! This is the kind of anarchy we had in olden times before Perseus branded order on the land!'
    'So,' I said, 'what now?'
    'The king has summoned Hercules to Mycenae to account for his invasion. Eurystheus must control the lunatic, or he'll have a dozen rulers reaching for our throats! I wish I could devise a way of getting rid of him once for all. The trouble is,' said Atreus sombrely, 'the blaggard has become a legend in his life­time, and attracts worshipping supporters - Heroes who should know better - besides his riffraff rabble.'
    A visitor three days later gave Atreus the chance he wanted.
     
    Journeying with a small retinue a seaman from Iolcos ar­rived on a rainswept winter's day. He announced himself as Jason, a son of Iolcos' ruling House, and Eurystheus made him welcome. He had come with a proposal which he explained to the king in Council on the morning after a banquet in his honour. I was present in the Hall as Atreus' squire: the Marshal insisted nowadays I attend him on formal occasions, often at the expense of my training on the Field.
    The Council consisted of older, wiser Heroes on whom Eurystheus relied. They assembled in chairs in front of the king, while Atreus and two senior Scribes - Curator and Pro­curator [1] - stood either side of the throne, ready to tender expert advice on war or economics. Eurystheus invited the visitor to state his case.
    Jason was a stocky man with a neat brown beard, a broken nose and harsh storm-beaten features. His eyes were black and piercing; he had a mariner's rolling