bustled into the room, saw the situation under control and hurtled out. Shouts and the clash of blade on blade echoed from the corridors where the raiders quenched the flickers of a rapidly failing resistance: gummy- eyed palace Heroes who snatched the nearest weapons and tried to fight the terrors that sprang from the night.
Amphiaraus resignedly spread his hands. 'I am at your mercy.' Atreus said in an undertone, 'Agamemnon, go swiftly to the ramparts. If we've taken the gate tower find wood and fire a beacon. Run!'
Dawn light paled a sullen sky; pandemonium thrashed in the streets; terrified citizens scurried like ants in a nest which a boar has rooted. I mounted to the ramparts, ran along the walk, skipped over bodies and reached the tower. Familiar faces peered from the top. I climbed the ladder quick as a squirrel and repeated Atreus' order. They hacked the guard room furniture and built a fire. Flames leaped redly in day break dusk.
On the peak of a distant mountain a light like a lambent star answered the beacon's signal.
I struggled through tumultuous streets to the palace. Atreus had mustered his Heroes in the Hall. Four had died in the fighting. With Amphiaraus and one of his sons found hiding in a store room we formed a wedge, forced through seething mobs and gained the gate tower. A little band of Midea's Heroes, rallying from the shock, gathered in an alley and pre pared to rush the ramparts. Atreus put his swordpoint to the small of his prisoner's back, forced him to the edge of the walk and shouted in his ear. Amphiaraus lifted his arms and spoke with the feverish passion of a man on the verge of death. His gallant followers lowered their spears and retreated into the houses.
The Marshal leaned arms on the parapet and gazed across the mist-hung plain surrounding Midea's mount. A noise like a tumbled hive buzzed from the town far below; a column of spearmen crawled up the zigzag track. 'They haven't a hope,' he said. 'No one can take Midea by storm. All we do now is await reinforcements.'
At midday a watery sun gleamed on the trappings of chariots, on twenty-score spears and brazen mail crowding the road from Mycenae. King Eurystheus led his Host through the gates his Marshal opened.
* * *
The Warden of Asine, pressed by his captive Lord, looked at the force Eurystheus brought and prudently surrendered. Within the space of a day a rich and fertile territory fell into Mycenae's hands. Because there had been no sack of either town, and consequently no looting, the king ordered confiscations and awarded every Hero who survived the night attack two female slaves apiece, a talent of bronze and fifteen head of cattle.
Atreus received a dozen farms, and immediately gave me half. 'You've killed your man and won your greaves, and a Hero must have a demesne. You'll be an absentee landlord, I fear: no question of your rusticating on a Midean manor away from the hub of affairs. As the Marshal's heir Mycenae's the place for you until you're old enough to warrant an important post in government. I'll have to see about that.'
Atreus flayed alive the spearman he bribed to open the postern, and nailed his skin to the wall above the gate. 'A warning to traitors. Treachery is a terrible crime. Unless we make it expensive,' the Marshal asserted gravely, 'nobody can feel safe.'
Eurystheus ceremonially bestowed on me a pair of silver- limned greaves. Immersed in the blissful euphoria of joining the Heroes' ranks I shared happily in the glory which aureoled Atreus' reputation. Heroes throughout Achaea discussed the operation, dissected it step by step and wagged their heads admiringly. A night attack - unprecedented! May be something in it after all!
Thus emboldened King Augeas of Elis hurled his Host in the dark at a stronghold in Arcadia - and was bloodily repulsed. In the slapdash way of Heroes he neglected the rigorous training and meticulous planning - a meal before battle, a soldier suborned, the chain of
Amphiaraus resignedly spread his hands. 'I am at your mercy.' Atreus said in an undertone, 'Agamemnon, go swiftly to the ramparts. If we've taken the gate tower find wood and fire a beacon. Run!'
Dawn light paled a sullen sky; pandemonium thrashed in the streets; terrified citizens scurried like ants in a nest which a boar has rooted. I mounted to the ramparts, ran along the walk, skipped over bodies and reached the tower. Familiar faces peered from the top. I climbed the ladder quick as a squirrel and repeated Atreus' order. They hacked the guard room furniture and built a fire. Flames leaped redly in day break dusk.
On the peak of a distant mountain a light like a lambent star answered the beacon's signal.
I struggled through tumultuous streets to the palace. Atreus had mustered his Heroes in the Hall. Four had died in the fighting. With Amphiaraus and one of his sons found hiding in a store room we formed a wedge, forced through seething mobs and gained the gate tower. A little band of Midea's Heroes, rallying from the shock, gathered in an alley and pre pared to rush the ramparts. Atreus put his swordpoint to the small of his prisoner's back, forced him to the edge of the walk and shouted in his ear. Amphiaraus lifted his arms and spoke with the feverish passion of a man on the verge of death. His gallant followers lowered their spears and retreated into the houses.
The Marshal leaned arms on the parapet and gazed across the mist-hung plain surrounding Midea's mount. A noise like a tumbled hive buzzed from the town far below; a column of spearmen crawled up the zigzag track. 'They haven't a hope,' he said. 'No one can take Midea by storm. All we do now is await reinforcements.'
At midday a watery sun gleamed on the trappings of chariots, on twenty-score spears and brazen mail crowding the road from Mycenae. King Eurystheus led his Host through the gates his Marshal opened.
* * *
The Warden of Asine, pressed by his captive Lord, looked at the force Eurystheus brought and prudently surrendered. Within the space of a day a rich and fertile territory fell into Mycenae's hands. Because there had been no sack of either town, and consequently no looting, the king ordered confiscations and awarded every Hero who survived the night attack two female slaves apiece, a talent of bronze and fifteen head of cattle.
Atreus received a dozen farms, and immediately gave me half. 'You've killed your man and won your greaves, and a Hero must have a demesne. You'll be an absentee landlord, I fear: no question of your rusticating on a Midean manor away from the hub of affairs. As the Marshal's heir Mycenae's the place for you until you're old enough to warrant an important post in government. I'll have to see about that.'
Atreus flayed alive the spearman he bribed to open the postern, and nailed his skin to the wall above the gate. 'A warning to traitors. Treachery is a terrible crime. Unless we make it expensive,' the Marshal asserted gravely, 'nobody can feel safe.'
Eurystheus ceremonially bestowed on me a pair of silver- limned greaves. Immersed in the blissful euphoria of joining the Heroes' ranks I shared happily in the glory which aureoled Atreus' reputation. Heroes throughout Achaea discussed the operation, dissected it step by step and wagged their heads admiringly. A night attack - unprecedented! May be something in it after all!
Thus emboldened King Augeas of Elis hurled his Host in the dark at a stronghold in Arcadia - and was bloodily repulsed. In the slapdash way of Heroes he neglected the rigorous training and meticulous planning - a meal before battle, a soldier suborned, the chain of
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