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When you approach the courtyard entrance, you are greeted with an unusual sight – an older man, wiry and thin, wearing a filthy, tattered cloak, is prostrating himself pathetically before your οἶκος servants. To your eye, he is immediately recognizable as one of the innumerable πλᾰ́νης (vagrants) who pass aimlessly through Hellas, adrift from society at large. Such men (since they are almost always men) survive on the scraps of generosity that might be passed to them by strangers, and by whatever they can scrounge from the land itself. To the πλᾰ́νης's side, you see a large leather bag and walking stick, tossed carelessly to the earth. The two servants are tugging on his elbows and begging him to stand, without success – they were no doubt hoping to turn him aside before his presence was noticed.
As you step forwards, the πλᾰ́νης's head rises, and you get a glimpse at his rough features – he is spectacularly ugly, with one ear frayed and chewed, and a shapeless, lopsided nose, clearly broken many times. He seems to have aged very poorly in his years of wandering – you suspect he might younger than his appearance implies. At the sight of you, he grins broadly and you are disgusted to see that he has lost many of his teeth – the ones that remain are blackened with rot.
“NOBLE LADY!” he cries at an earsplitting volume, and before you have a chance to speak, he plants his face back down on the dusty ground, arms extended forwards in a childlike parody of respect. Bizarrely, he continues to shout into the dirt as he does so– “GOLDEN-HAIRED LADY, FAIR AND TALL – I BEG OF YOU – THE WAR!” He yowls weirdly, sounding for all the world like a man-sized cat, and begins writhing pitifully on the earth, although whether with excitement or fear, you can’t immediately discern. “WAR IS COMING TO HELLAS, DEAR LADY!” It’s not surprising that Agamemnon’s invocation of the Oath of Tyndareus has reached even the ears of this unfortunate soul – you’re certain that all of Hellas must be buzzing with the news, only a few weeks old.
You’re unsure to how to respond – you have some experience with madness, of course, but your mother has retained most of her noble bearing, despite her words and actions being nonsensical. The man before you is clearly erratic and unpredictable – he couldn’t not have arrived as at a less convenient time.
“Rise, πλᾰ́νης - please speak clearly, if you can.” You attempt a calm and pleasing tone, but already your frustration is beginning to build, your typical good humor nowhere to be found. You simply don’t have the time for this nonsense – not today. You have only hours before the noblemen begin to arrive!
>more coming
