One of Sparta’s often overlooked
diplomatic victories was prying Mycenae and Tyrens out of Argos’ sphere of
influence and into her own. Little is known about this diplomatic success
beyond the fact that it followed the Spartan victory at Sepeia and lasted
through Leonidas’ deployment to Thermopylae. In my novel “A Peerless Peer” I
provide a plausible scenario of how and why Mycenae was -- under Leonidas’ reign -- a
Spartan ally.
Mycenae.
Agamemnon’s city. It crowned a hill
that nestled against the backdrop of the majestic peaks of Mount Zara and
Profitis Ilias. Deep ravines encased it, and the natural slopes leading up to
the sheer walls were steep and treacherous. Mycenae, “rich in gold,” was also a
nearly impregnable citadel.
Of
course, it was not Agamemnon’s city anymore. That had been burned and plundered
and razed in the reign of Orestes’ son Tisamenus. Somewhere nearby there must
be ancient graves, perhaps still filled with the treasure of Troy. But the
survivors of that final catastrophe had not been many; the descendants of
Agamemnon’s army had submitted to the invading Dorians and intermarried with
them. This was a new city, built upon the ruins of Agamemnon’s capital some
three hundred years ago, and it was neither particularly large, nor rich, [but
it was an ally of Argos]…
Leonidas
hadn’t a clue what form of government this obscure, secondary city had, except
that it was unlikely to be a monarchy. He presumed it was also less democratic
than Athens, and that made it an oligarchy of some sort. At all events, he was
facing ten old men.
“You
wished to speak with us, Spartan?”
“Who
are you?”
“The
Governing Council of Mycenae. And you?”
“I
am the commanding officer of the Lacedaemonian army surrounding this city. My
orders are to subdue the Argolid and render it incapable of threatening us for
another generation. Those orders could be interpreted to mean I should seize
and raze Mycenae.” Leonidas was watching the faces of the men opposite him very
carefully. He had the impression he was not telling them anything they didn’t
already know. They, too, had spies.
“So
why are you here, Spartan? Do you want us to surrender our freedom without a
fight?” The man who said this was trembling slightly as he spoke. Leonidas
considered him. He was not trembling from fear. Possibly it was just a frailty
of age—or the power of his emotions. His eyes were milky with cataracts, but he
sat very straight, wrapped in a soft woolen himation with a wide border of
mythical beasts in rusts and greens.
“I
know little of your city, but I was told you pay homage to Argos.”
“Argos
takes from us one-third of our olive-oil harvest, one-fourth of our wine, 100
head of cattle, 200 sheep, and 166 goats each year—and it led 116 of our finest
young men to their deaths at Sepeia.” That did not sound like a declaration of
loyalty.
“And
what do you get in return?”
There
was a long pause. The old man just sat with tears dripping slowly down his
face, and finally one of the other men admitted, “Nothing.” The man seemed to
think about it and then added, “Nothing at all.”
“You
call that freedom?” Leonidas asked.
Another
man spoke up, more hotly than the other two. “We still live by our own laws. We
have our temples, our festivals and customs. We can sacrifice at the graves of
our fathers. Our daughters go intact to their marriage beds, and our sons learn
the use of spear and sword.”
“That
is true in Tegea, Corinth, and Elis as well.”
“What
does that have to do with anything?” the hot-headed man demanded; but the older
man stirred himself and hushed his younger colleague. He focused his not
entirely blind eyes hard on Leonidas while explaining to his impatient
colleague, “Tegea, Corinth, and Elis are allies of Lacedaemon.”
“We
don’t require tribute,” Leonidas reminded him.
“Just
obedience. To follow wherever your kings lead.” Yet another member of the
council spoke up.
“If
a majority in the League Assembly approves,” Leonidas reminded them. Leonidas
was acutely aware that the changes in League leadership imposed upon his
brother and characterized as “humiliating” by Leotychidas, Brotus, and others
might prove decisive in avoiding bloodshed today. He pressed the point. “Your
vote would be equal to ours.”
The
Mycenaeans exchanged glances and then put their heads together, to whisper
among themselves. One cut the others short and asked the Spartans to step out
into the street while they discussed the proposal.
On
the porch, Oliantus murmured, “Are you sure you have authority to offer this?”
“Why
shouldn’t I?”
“Only
the ephors can sign treaties, and the Assembly has to ratify.”
“Do
you think they would reject an application by Mycenae to join the League?”
“You
never know
what the Assembly will decide,” Oliantus warned. “Especially not when
Leotychidas and his clique start their whisper campaigns!”
The
Mycenaeans, however, were finished with their internal discussion and called
the Spartans back inside. The spokesman asked, “Are those your terms? That we
become an ally of Lacedaemon?”
“That
you break with Argos and join our allies, yes,” Leonidas clarified.
The
Mycenaeans again looked at one another, and then the spokesman asked, “What is
your name, young man?”
“Does
that matter?”
“It
does. You seem very young to have so much authority, and you offer us something
that seems quite unimaginable. We came here expecting demands of abject
submission. We thought you would want us to hand over our daughters and
humiliate ourselves in front of you. We thought you would take away our youths
for your own pleasures and demand tribute that would leave us nothing at all
but the naked walls of our homes.”
“You
were wrong.” Leonidas insisted.
“But
how can we know this is not just a trick—a way to make us let down our defenses
and open our gates to your brutal troops?”
“I
am Leonidas, son of Anaxandridas, brother of Cleomenes. I am a direct
descendant of Herakles through my father and my mother both. My word is good.
And I give it to you.” It frightened Leonidas a little to realize how much he
enjoyed saying that—and it surprised him even more how effective it was.
