The tale of Hera Vol. 1.1 Chapter 6.2 - The Prince's First Love

Inside the spacious assembly hall of Mycenae’s palace, the dignified representatives of Mycenae, dressed in formal white chitons, gathered and conversed with a hum of voices.

One of them spoke up, saying:

“We had anticipated some sort of upheaval in Sparta, but we never dreamed such a bizarre incident would occur.”

“Indeed, you’re right. How could both princes, who went out for a wild boar hunt, lose their lives simultaneously?”

“It’s a truly strange event, isn’t it? For such tragic events to unfold within a single day. It’s certain that King Tyndareus must have angered the gods with his wrongdoing. That is what I think.”

“Everyone, please quiet down! The esteemed King Agamemnon is entering!”

The herald called out. While it was appropriate to show respect for the king and remain silent, some were still in shock after hearing the news from Sparta. They asked, almost impatiently, ‘So, what happened next? What exactly happened?’ Their inquiries were answered by those who enjoyed providing information, speaking softly and promptly. As a result, all those words made their way distinctly into Agamemnon’s ears as he entered the assembly hall.

“I see.  The two princes of Sparta died the same day in a tragic accident, is that what you’re saying?”

Agamemnon sat down on the stone throne that was attached to the wall. He tried to find a comfortable position, shifting his back from one side of the throne to the other, waiting for someone to come forward and tell him the details. Due to an oversight by Menelaus, who had forgotten to send a servant to cut the thread that kept him suspended, Agamemnon had been hanging for three extra hours yesterday while he was spending time on the temple of Hera. As a result, his arms, legs, and entire back were sore from muscle fatigue.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The old man who had been the most vocal among the nobles earlier stepped forward and began to speak to Agamemnon.

“Do you not know, Your Majesty, that King Tyndareus of Sparta has two sons, Castor and Polydeuces? A week ago, they went hunting for a wild boar on horseback. During the hunt, a boar charged to protect its mate and cub. Prince Castor was caught in the charge. He was impaled by the boar’s tusks, causing his innards to tear and his ribs to break, puncturing his lung. They brought him to the palace for treatment, but after three days of struggling, he ultimately passed away.”

“And the other one?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

The old man began to explain again.

“After witnessing his brother’s injury, Polydeuces rushed to call for a doctor. He rode his horse hastily and took the wrong path in unfamiliar terrain. He ended up at a cliff’s edge and his horse stumbled, causing them both to fall to their deaths.”

“Hmm…”

Agamemnon spotted Menelaus’ golden hair among his vassals and said as he looked at his brother.

“Brother. Your elder brother here is sturdy enough to survive until the doctor arrives, so, Menelaus, don’t be foolish enough to die like that. Got it?”

Menelaus retorted with a tone that suggested his brother was worrying too much.

“If that happens, I won’t ride a horse. Running on my own two feet would be faster than riding a horse in a dense forest. And besides, if you, my elder brother, were to depart this life, I’d naturally become king, so why bother seeking a doctor? I would just let you die.”

The vassals who were overhearing the amicable conversation between the brothers did their best to stifle their laughter to avoid incurring the king’s displeasure.

“This lunatic. Do you want to die so badly? We’ll settle this later at the training ground.”

After warning his brother with a stern expression, Agamemnon regained his composure and looked around at his vassals with a dignified expression.

“Choose someone to send a message to the king of Sparta. Also, prepare a letter written in my name expressing condolences for the loss of both his sons at once, and send it along with a gift of sturdy horses, two hundred pieces of fine white fabric, and one hundred slaves to the royal family of Sparta.”

“Your Majesty, how about sending Prince Menelaus as an envoy?”

Agamemnon expressed great satisfaction with that opinion and pointed towards Menelaus as he spoke.

“Indeed.  It will be more dignified if the king’s younger brother goes. Menelaus, stand at the head of the delegation going to Sparta tomorrow morning and set off.”

“Understood.”

Menelaus replied promptly, but his expression showed some reluctance.

“The next item on the agenda is the list of tribute from Phthia for the first half of the year.”

A young vassal approached Agamemnon, holding a tablet inscribed with syllabic characters used in the royal court. The diplomatic affairs were concluded with that. Young King Agamemnon swiftly dealt with a few domestic matters that came up afterward and adjourned the morning meeting.

It seemed that everyone was satisfied with the short and concise meeting.

People wearing white chitons began to pour out of the conference room like wine flowing out of a narrow-necked amphora. Menelaus found himself caught in the procession, until a large, sturdy hand reached out from behind and firmly grasped his shoulder.

“Are you trying to run away? We need to train.”

Agamemnon spoke with an eager and urgent voice.

“Brother.”

Menelaus responded with a bewildered expression.

“You told me to leave tomorrow right away. So, please let us take a day off from training today like a human being.”

Agamemnon, with his brawny biceps on display, folded his arms and said with a smirk.

“Menelaus. It seems like you’ve become complacent with recent successes, haven’t you? Isn’t this the first time you have skipped training?”

“I have somewhere to go today.”

Agamemnon looked at Menelaus with his eyes wide open.

“So, where are you going? Don’t tell me… you’re going to the temple of Hera again? You rascal. What honey have you been smearing there? You must have worn out the threshold until it turned to dust from all your frequent visits.”

“While I’m away as an envoy to Sparta, I won’t be able to visit, so I want to spend some extra time there today.”

“You are a really peculiar fellow, Menelaus.”

Agamemnon shook his head. He had given up trying to understand his brother’s excessive devotion to the goddess Hera.

“Go inside and take a nap or something.”

Menelaus brushed off Agamemnon’s hand from his shoulder and spoke. Then, as the crowd dispersed and the door became quiet, he walked out leisurely. Agamemnon could no longer hold onto his brother.

 

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