The Lion Throne room at Mycenae was built to make men feel small.
The columns that lined the hall were carved from the trunks of ancient cedars, each one wider than a man could wrap his arms around. The walls were covered in bronze shields taken from conquered kingdoms, their surfaces polished to a mirror sheen, reflecting the light of a hundred oil lamps that burned day and night. The hearth at the centre of the hall roared with a flame that had not been extinguished in three generations, and the smoke rose through a shaft in the ceiling to the dark sky above.
The throne itself was carved from a single block of obsidian, brought from the eastern islands a century ago, its surface so smooth and black that it seemed to swallow the light around it. The armrests were shaped like lions. The back was high enough to dwarf any man who sat upon it.
Agamemnon sat upon it now.
