Agamemnon came fuming from the meeting. ‘That old bastard is the rat-king of a rotten country,’ he growled. ‘Small wonder Crete fell so easily into Theseus’ lap! But I’ve had my eyes open while we’ve been here! He may be the true heir of a degenerate father and a depraved mother but he’s a lot less needy than he makes out. With Theseus gone, and only Menestheus to answer to in Athens, Crete is on the rise again. Deucalion has ships, and he knows we need them. But he’s also thinking that if Argos and Troy wear each other out in a long war, then Crete might find scope to command the seas once more.’Agamemnon glared across at his brother. ‘We’ll have to teach him that he may have more to lose by staying out than by coming in.’
Menelaus nodded. ‘But were you watching Idomeneus while we spoke? I’m sure he despises his father. We should talk to him separately.’
‘You think we might set them against one another?’
‘It could do no harm to try. Idomeneus and I are friends. He was among the first who swore to aid me. His father has lived too long, and he’s been restless and ambitious for some time now. I think he might like a war.’
‘I see you’re learning, brother,’ Agamemnon smiled. ‘Hate is a mighty teacher,’
Shortly after his return to Argos, Agamemnon called his principal allies to a council of war in the great hall of the Lion House in Mycenae. Menelaus was there, bitter and gloomy still, having found his empty bedchamber in Sparta too desolate a place to bear. Nestor, king of Pylos, was among the first to arrive, already in his sixties but valiant and eloquent as ever. He was at pains to assure the Atreides brothers that, at this painful hour, they could rely on all he had to give in the way of wise counsel and military support. He was joined in those sympathies by Palamedes, Prince of Euboea, who was authorized to put the resources of his father Nauplius at the High King’s disposal, and by the Argive hero Diomedes, who had always been so infatuated with love for Helen that he took her abduction as a personal slight. Like Menelaus, Diomedes was a devotee of Athena, and after the two men had wept together for a while, he told the bereft King of Sparta that the goddess had assured him in a dream of her special protection for the eighty ships he would commit to the war against Troy.
Others of the High King’s vassals began to arrive through the Lion Gate. Some were openly eager for the venture, others discreetly kept their counsel, preferring to watch which way the wind was blowing. But on the whole, things seemed to be going well when news came of two unexpected setbacks.
Agamemnon had been counting on the warlike temper of Telamon to put fire into any of the princes who might query the wisdom of an assault on Troy. The old warhorse knew the city well. He had sacked it once and grown rich on the pickings. It was a sore blow, therefore, when news came from Salamis that Telamon had collapsed after a rowdy banquet on the night before he was due to cross to the mainland. Though his breathing was heavy and he had lost the power of speech, the old man was still alive. His son Ajax and his stepson Teucer were at his bedside, praying to Apollo the Healer for his full recovery.
The herald they sent in their place promised that the island would fit out six vessels for the venture. But Agamemnon cursed the ill luck that had deprived him of a man whose experience and forceful character was worth far more to him at that moment than a handful of ships.
The news out of Ithaca was still more dispiriting – so much so that the brothers went into private conference with Nestor before breaking it to the assembled warlords. The message came not with a herald but in a small bronze canister tied about a pigeon’s leg. It came with the excuse that storms were blowing round the coast of Ithaca, and went on to tell how Odysseus and Penelope grieved to hear of their Cousin Helen’s defection. They understood why, in his righteous anger, Menelaus might wish to take violent revenge on Troy, but wasn’t it the case that the treachery had been the fault of a single man, not a whole city? Should any act of retaliation not be proportionate therefore? While their own loyalty to the High King was never in question, it was their considered opinion that the Atreides brothers would be wise to wait upon King Priam’s response to their envoys before harnessing their power to a war that might prove long and arduous. Helen had acted rashly, yes, but that was no reason for her husband, who was always assured of their love and deepest sympathy, to do the same.
Agamemnon smacked the paper with his hand. ‘The villain is looking to his own interests as usual. He got what he wanted when he came to Sparta. Now he thinks he can lie back, counting his blessings, and let the rest of us go hang.’
Still raw from the humiliation of his wound, Menelaus had listened touchily to the unwelcome homily out of Ithaca. ‘Do we need him?’ he frowned now. ‘Ithaca’s far to the west and hardly fit for goats to graze on. If our cousin doesn’t want to come, let him rot at home.’
‘It’s not just Ithaca.’ Agamemnon got up and began to pace the chamber. ‘All the Ionian islands look to him. If the Lords of Same, Dulichium, and Zacynthus get to hear he won’t come, why should they stir their stumps? This could cost us a thousand men. And Odysseus isn’t just some bare-arsed sheep-farmer with more balls than brains. He’s a thinker. A strategist. The best strategist we’ve got – with the exception of old Nestor here. Of course we need him!’
Nestor had been dandling Agamemnon’s small daughter Iphigeneia on his knee as he waited for the rant to end. Now he took her fingers from his mouth and lifted his silver head. ‘Odysseus doesn’t actually say that he won’t come,’ he offered quietly. ‘He merely suggests we wait to hear what your envoys report.’
‘We know well enough what they’ll say! If Priam’s feeling strong, it’ll be a defiant jibe about not getting much help from us in the matter of his sister. If he’s not, then expect some appeasing diplomatic pribble-prabble. Either way, it’s what I want to hear. There’s never going to be a better time to take on Troy than this.’
‘And Odysseus knows you think this way?’ Nestor asked, stroking the small girl’s curls where she nestled against him, sucking her thumb, with large eyes following her father’s strides as he paced the floor.
‘Of course he does. He’s no fool. We’ve always shared intelligence on our raids. He knew what I was thinking a long time ago. But that was before he married and settled down and got lazy. I preferred him as a rogue and pirate! So did most of the princes of Argos, if truth were told. None of them much liked the oath he got them all to swear at the wedding but they admired his cunning!’ Agamemnon sat down again, drumming the fingers of both hands on the table. ‘The man has genius! He’s wasted watching sheep on that barren rock. Somehow we’ve got to prise him out of that great bed he boasts of.’
‘Then let me go and talk to him,’ Menelaus said. ‘After all, it was he who set things up so that I could marry Helen in the first place.’
‘But it’s hardly his fault if it went wrong!’Agamemnon scowled. Though Helen’s defection had provided him with just the excuse for war that he had needed, he still felt the sting of humiliation that it brought on the House of Atreus. ‘Odysseus didn’t know you were going to let some Trojan stallion have the run of your house – any more than I did.’
At that point old Nestor looked up from the child whose smiling face had crumpled at the rising voices. He raised a magisterial finger, which silenced both brothers without offending either, then said, ‘Would the sons of Atreus care to hear my thoughts on this matter, or shall Iphigeneia and I leave you to brawl at your leisure?’
‘Speak