Stepping into the National Archeological Museum in Athens, the first thing you see is the Mycenae gallery. (Actually the first thing we saw was a large tortoise roaming the area outside the bathrooms. After getting a picture, I notified a docent, who shrugged, laughed and indicated the turtle was a frequent and not unwelcome patron.)
The first thing you see stepping into the Mycenae gallery is the mask of Agamemnon. (A quick thumbnail refresher: the earlier Minoan civilization was wiped out by the Myceneans - called the Acheans by Homer - and the legendary king of the Myceneans was Agamemnon, who sacrificed his daughter to Poseidon, fought at Troy, was murdered by his wife and was avenged by his son.) And the burial mask of the star of this maelstrom - Agamemnon - gazes calmly at us through beaten gold.
Or at least it's supposed to be Agamemnon.
In 1876, when most scholars assumed the Illiad had all the factual basis of the Great Pumpkin, a retired German businessman in the Import-Export trade, put egg on everyone's face by sticking a shovel into the dirt in the place Homer declared Agamemnon had ruled. The intellectual elite were laughing up their sleeves at this. It was like looking for Cinderella's castle or the mine where the seven dwarves worked.
But then, just where Homer said, Schliemann began to unearth gold. Gold of unbelievably beautful workmanship.