Tyndareus slurped down the last of his wine and the squire refilled his cup. ‘So what do you propose to do?’
‘If we’re to grow rich through commerce, we need to trade freely outside of Greece.’
‘And we do,’ said Icarius.
‘Not any more,’ Agamemnon corrected. He chose another piece of melon from the platter and took a bite, spitting the seeds one by one into the flames. ‘Have you heard of King Priam?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Tyndareus said. ‘Ruler of Troy, and a powerful man by all accounts.’
‘Too powerful.’ Agamemnon frowned. ‘He’s started imposing a tax on trade passing over the Aegean. He claims the sea for Troy and says all ships must pay him tribute. Something I won’t tolerate.’
Tyndareus finished another cup of wine and belched loudly. ‘You may have to, son. You can’t dictate terms to Priam on his own territory.’
‘I don’t regard the Aegean as Trojan territory!’ Agamemnon told him coldly. ‘Besides, Mycenaean ships are not the only target, Tyndareus. Your own merchants will soon feel the pinch, as will the rest of the Greek states. Which is why I’m here – to offer a solution that will ensure free trade throughout the Mediterranean, keep the peace here and give our armies their wish for glory. I propose to call the Greek kings to a council of war. We’ll raid Ilium and teach Priam to respect us!’
Agamemnon gripped the arms of his chair and stared at the Spartan kings, the flames reflecting vividly in his eyes. With his son-in-law’s words ringing in his ears, Tyndareus stood and began pacing up and down by the fire, shaking his head.
‘Don’t be a fool. It’s impossible.’
‘Is it?’ asked Icarius, leaning back and tugging thoughtfully at an earlobe.
‘Yes it is,’ Tyndareus snapped. He held out his cup to a slave, who rushed to refill it. ‘Take it away, you idiot! I need a clear head if I’m to avoid being talked into one of my son’s wars. Now listen to me, Agamemnon, you come here talking peace and propose a war. That’s fine by me, but can you really see the Greek kings joining forces for anything – even to sack foreign cities? Can you imagine all those generations of petty hatreds and family feuds simply being pushed aside so that Mycenaean merchants don’t have to pay tribute to Troy? Can you hear all those proud men swearing oaths of fealty to each other?’
Icarius stood. ‘Listen to him, Tyndareus. Of course we could bring them together, even with all their hatred for each other. Most of them only hold grudges because of what their fathers and grandfathers did to one another. The feuds can’t continue for ever. We need an objective that’ll unite the Greek-speaking cities and make us into a people.’
‘A great people,’ Agamemnon added fiercely. ‘Can you even imagine the power of a united Greece?’
‘United under your leadership, Agamemnon?’ Tyndareus said, looking at him suspiciously. ‘Even with your political skills you couldn’t lead the Greeks. If you could ever get them under one roof, they’d only kill each other. Or is that what you want?’
‘Of course not. But ask yourself this: would you rather take a Spartan army to fight Greek-speaking Argives, or Corinthians, or Athenians; or would you rather kill Trojans with their unintelligible bar-bar-barring, their strange dress and the way they insult the gods with their outlandish worship?’
‘You know my answer to that . . .’
‘And wouldn’t you like to see peace at home and all our wars fought abroad? Don’t you want a unified Greece where a man can go about his business in safety, whether it be a journey to Pythia or a visit to a neighbouring city?’
Agamemnon stared hard at his father-in-law, demanding an answer.
‘Son, you have great vision and I don’t doubt Greece has the potential of which you speak,’ Tyndareus sighed. ‘But if you couldn’t convince Diomedes, your closest friend, to forget his family’s feud with Thebes, what chance will you have of making the kings of Greece swear allegiance to each other? We can’t be reined in like a team of horses, you know, and we’re too damned paranoid about each other to join forces against Troy.’
Agamemnon sighed and looked into the flames as a slave placed an armful of fresh logs in the fire. He had come to Sparta to seek the support of the second most powerful king in Greece, after himself, and instead had found wisdom greater than his own. If Tyndareus had supported him, or if Icarius had been king, he would have convened a council of war. But the older man had spoken with authority and truth: decades and even centuries of feuds would not be cast aside lightly. Even the gods themselves could not command the Greek kings to come together under one roof.
He shook his head in resignation.
‘I’m glad you see sense now, Agamemnon,’ Tyndareus said, smiling broadly. ‘Shall I call the bard for a song? Something light, preferably – perhaps a poem in Aphrodite’s honour?’
Agamemnon sat up and snapped his fingers. ‘That could be the answer.’
‘What? A poem?’
‘No – the goddess of love! What man can refuse her?’
The Spartan brothers exchanged puzzled looks. Agamemnon stood and began pacing the floor. ‘Your daughter, Helen, she’s about fifteen or sixteen years, yes?’
‘Thereabouts.’
‘So she’s old enough to marry.’
‘What of it?’
‘She’s the most desired woman in all Greece!’ Agamemnon enthused. ‘You see her with the eyes of a father, Tyndareus, but other men . . . they would kill to marry her.’
Moments of silence slipped by as Agamemnon continued to pace the floor, his leather sandals soft on the flagstones. ‘Have you considered Menelaus as a son-in-law?’ he said after a while.
‘I haven’t given Helen’s marriage any thought at all, if that’s what you mean,’ Tyndareus replied defensively. ‘But your brother’s a good man. I’ve liked him ever since you two were boys, when I threw your uncle – that scoundrel Thyestes – out of Mycenae. Yes, Menelaus would probably be my first consideration.’
‘Good. I wanted to know that before I asked you about inviting suitors for Helen.’
Tyndareus shook his head. ‘Oh, I wish I hadn’t drunk so much wine; a man needs a clear brain whenever you’re around. Why should I want to invite suitors to my palace?’
‘You asked how I would gather the best of the Greeks under one roof,’ said Agamemnon. ‘Well, that’s my answer. What prince or king would ignore an invitation to pay court to the most beautiful woman of our time? And there’s another lure: I would have become heir to your throne when I married Clytaemnestra, had I not already ruled my own kingdom; that means the right to your kingship will now be passed to the man who marries Helen. With her beauty, power and wealth, the suitors will come flocking to Sparta. Don’t you see, Tyndareus? It’s the priest’s dream.’
Icarius lifted his cup in a toast to Agamemnon. ‘And when you have them here you’ll convene your council of war. You’re a clever man, Agamemnon. One day you’ll be leader of all the Greeks, and then you can take us to glory.’
‘Or death,’ Tyndareus added.
A figure watched them from a shadowy alcove above. Her raven-black hair was covered by the hood of her white robe and her face was hidden behind a thin veil. Only the gleam of her dark eyes was visible in the shadows as she listened to the plans of the men below.
Helen’s heart sank. Tyndareus was not even her real father – Zeus had that honour, though Tyndareus did not know it – and yet he had the audacity to put her up for auction like a slave. As for Agamemnon, he was nothing but a butchering megalomaniac. His mind was a maze of political stratagems and his black heart beat only for the glory of the Greeks. If she were a man she would take a sword down to the courtyard and kill all three of them.