Ancient Evenings

CHAPTER FOUR

Setting the Stage

It was dark when I wrapped a cloak around my shoulders and left the tent. The beach was ablaze with hundreds of campfires. Most of the soldiers dozed. Those who remained awake retched or sprinted to the latrines as the plague came upon them.

I threaded my way through camp to Nestor's tent.

Nestor, King of Pylus, was older than Prometheus and although his liver was shredded, it wasn't from an eagle. A small, wizened man with barely a hair left on his spotted scalp, Nestor had sailed for Troy with 90 ships. Since his age precluded combat, his contribution came in the form of counsel. He was known for his vast store of wisdom, or as Nestor was fond of saying, "I'm an idea man." Agamemnon, among others, never made a move before consulting Nestor. The fact that his advice was often calamitous didn't seem to matter.

Agamemnon would never return Chryseis without consulting Nestor. More importantly, Nestor would know how to mollify the mighty Agamemnon once Chryseis was safely away.

That he could sway the Great King was one thing. That he would was another.

After waiting a few minutes I was granted an audience. Nestor received me kindly and then bid me wait as he attended other business.

Diomedes of Argos was present. Generally considered the best of the Greek warriors, after Achilles and perhaps Aias, Diomedes was as tall and straight as a spear. He had a handsome face, perfectly bronzed skin and a level head. He had remained faithful to his wife while away and was sparing in his use of wine. Although king of Argos, Diomedes came from Calydonia, hence his nickname: The Calydonian Bore.

The two kings discussed the young lady lounging on the sheets. She was Hecamede. Yes, that same Hecamede still living with Nestor at Pylus.

Apparently, Nestor's manhood was in the permanent grip of Morpheus. His jollies came in the form of watching others couple . He had offered Hecamede to Diomedes on the condition that he, Nestor, might enjoy the show. The Calydonian Bore had flatly refused and sped from Nestor's presence with restrained indignation.

I introduced myself to Nestor.

"Ah, Yes," he said, tweaking my nipples until they were hard. "It's not often I see a granddaughter of Heracles. It's an honor."

My father was reputedly the son of Heracles, that famous and respected buffoon from Tiryns. That, at any rate, is what Grandmother said. Since most men hold it an honor to be cuckolded by a heroic son of the Greek Sky God, it was a safe explanation. I had my doubts, especially upon meeting Glaucon, the captain of Grandpa's royal guard. The aged, but still robust, Glaucon is retired and now and lives on a few acres outside the city. He also bears a startling resemblance to father.

I explained the reason for my visit.

"So," mused Nestor, his hand now up my tunic, "we have offended Apollo by capturing this Chrysalis."

"Chryseis. And her return...."

Nestor interrupted: "Will appease the God and end the plague."

"Yes," I said. "And cutting out the raw shell fish would also help. Achilles will demand the return of Chryseis to her father at a council. If the wise Nestor approves, Agamemnon will agree."

"The Great King will be angry at losing his prize. He will need to be placated."

"Well," I said, "if Achilles demands a sacrifice of Agamemnon then perhaps Achilles will need to make a sacrifice as well."

Nestor thought all of this over. "It seems the wisest course," he finally said. "It shall be done. On one condition."

Nestor grinned like a Chimera.