Franklin, John Curtis. 2016. Kinyras: The Divine Lyre. Hellenic Studies Series 70. Washington, DC: Center for Hellenic Studies. http://nrs.harvard.edu/urn-3:hul.ebook:CHS_FranklinJ.Kinyras.2016.
14. Restringing Kinyras
Aegean Foundation Legends and Epic Homecomings
The basic accuracy of this assessment cannot be doubted; and while one may question how conclusively Gjerstad has executed the historian’s task on specific points, his analysis remains admirably thorough and sensitive, despite many subsequent revisions of detail to his fundamental historical synthesis of 1948.
Kinyras, Dmetor, and the Changing States of Cyprus
Eustathios’ suggestion remains the most economical interpretation of the Homeric data. The alternative, to view the Odyssey poet as using a different frame of reference than the Iliad, is not merely uneconomical but discouraged by Homer’s own generous clues. For Dmḗtōr means ‘Subduer’, and is even so defined by the immediate sequel: “who ruled in Cyprus by force.” This is proof enough, were it needed, that Dmetor is no historical figure. Yet he may still have an historical dimension. Both his name and its gloss show that the Odyssey poet recognized an early Greek conquest scenario on Cyprus. That Dmetor exerted his rule “by force” naturally implies a hostile native population, which in turn suggests that his kingdom was recently established. This might be reading too much into a single name, were it not for other mythological examples of Achaean heroes establishing kingdoms on Cyprus just after the fall of Troy—only a few years of dramatic time before the action of the Odyssey (Odysseus was the last hero home).
Liar King: The Terracotta Fleet and the Curse of Agamemnon
This tale must have featured in some version of the lost Kypria, which dealt with events leading up to the Trojan War.  We have also seen that, incredible though it seem, Kinyras’ terracotta fleet must somehow allude to an Eteocypriot tradition of terracotta ship-models stretching from the Archaic period back to the MBA.  The episode is implicitly aetiological, but is the aetiology fundamental or incidental? That is, did the ritual give rise to the story of Kinyras’ treachery, or merely embellish it?
The Unthroning of Kinyras
One’s immediate reflex, conditioned as we are by the usual Homeric version of events, is to understand “the Greeks with Agamemnon” as a group who had fought beside the Mycenaean king at Troy, but then went on to Cyprus by themselves while he went home to Klytaimnestra.  By this view, hoi sỳn Agamémnoni would be an elliptical reference to other, better-attested migration legends like Teukros, Agapenor, and their bands of followers. Such further figures are certainly well encompassed by the expression. Yet the more natural reading of the Greek makes Agamemnon himself lead the showdown. 
Kinyras and Pre-Greek Social Topography
Salamis: Euagoras, Teukros, and the Daughter of Kinyras
With the victory at Knidos, Euagoras and his sons were awarded front-row seating at Athenian festivals in perpetuity. Euagoras had previously been granted Athenian citizenship (his friendly relations with the city are attested by inscriptions from ca. 410).  This accounts for hōs Athēnaîos in our passage. But Pausanias also shows that Euagoras’ honorary citizenship, though spurred by his benefactions (he is euergétēs in the inscriptions), was nevertheless grounded in a quasi-legal appeal to his alleged Teukrid ancestry, via a daughter of Kinyras (probably the Eue or Eune or Eunoe mentioned as Teukros’ bride elsewhere).  This must also be why Isokrates emphasizes Euagoras’ Teukrid descent, to which he attributes the virtues of the Salaminian royal line and the king’s admirable achievement in restoring it to power. 
Paphos: Agapenor, Laodike, and the Arcadian Connection
Here then is our clearest evidence of an early Cypriot migration legend that became known outside of the island, and earned a glancing notice in the Catalogue. One may guess that this is because the Paphian royal house enjoyed a comparatively high international profile in the Archaic period, thanks to its world-famous sanctuary.
As always with this remarkable historian, it is hard to know what has found its way from a lost ancient source, what from oral tradition, and what is his own imaginative interpretation or extrapolation (see Appendix G). But the present passage, on the whole, seems to have some ancient or traditional basis. Lusignan’s portrayal of Agapenor as a conquering king could be seen as heavy-handed historicism, were it not for the ‘rout’ of the former royal line, which cannot be dismissed so easily. The historian makes clear elsewhere that Paphos was the kingdom of “the god Cinaras,” father of ‘Curio’ (< Koureus < Kourion), whom in turn he makes the father of a younger, mortal ‘Cinaras’.  Even if this use of genealogy to disambiguate two Kinyrases is probably Lusignan’s own invention, his ‘rout of the Kinyradai’ is essentially what we find in Theopompos. And yet these two rout scenarios, though obviously cognate—and geographically quite compatible—are not identical: Lusignan overlooks Amathous, which is not even mentioned, to account for Kourion—midway between Paphos and Amathous (and not far from Limassol, where Lusignan was vicar from 1564–1568  )—and “other Cypriot cities.”  So here too, I suggest, is a genuine popular tradition, about an explicitly Greek ‘takeover’ of the Kinyrad dynasty at Paphos. Note that elsewhere Lusignan specifies that Agapenor’s descendants continued to rule at Paphos. 
This harmonizing approach clearly has merit, even if one questions the specific scenario proposed—as Maier himself did only two years later, stressing the lack of clear archaeological criteria, and arguing that the sanctuary’s monumentalization actually antedates the Greek influx.  The lack of Aegean architectural elements shows in any case that the outward image of the cult continued unbroken.  Thus whatever the ethnic orientation of those who held power in the EIA, it is likely that the older royal apparatus remained at least superficially intact, just as the Kinyrad tradition asserts. As M. Iacovou writes:
To her wide-spaced fatherland, from Cyprus most divine. 
The verses are no older than the fourth century, the robe they graced probably replacing an older one destroyed by fire in 394 BCE.  Later, Pausanias, in describing the sacred structures of Tegea, credits the same Laodike with founding there the temple “of Aphrodite, called Paphian”; and he carefully notes that Paphos was Laodike’s own home.  Of course, even a votive péplos predating 394 can never have been ‘old enough’. But this does not prevent its being an authentic relic of an older mythmaking process, deriving ultimately from cultural memories of connections between Cyprus and Arcadia, even Tegea itself.  The diffusion of ‘Aphrodite’ cult must indeed have involved such westward ventures; yet it is quite striking that, despite the internationally renowned sanctuary at Paphos, nowhere in Greece besides Tegea was the goddess qualified as Paphian.  It is crucial that Arcadians of the Classical period had no difficultly believing in such early connections with Cyprus, just as some Cypriot communities claimed Arcadian origins. 
- If Agapenor marries Laodike, and Laodike = Kinyras’ daughter, then Agapenor marries Kinyras’ daughter;
- If Laodike = Kinyras’ daughter, and Agapenor = Laodike’s father, then Agapenor = Kinyras;
- If Agapenor = Kinyras, and Laodike is Kinyras’ daughter, then Agapenor/Kinyras marries his own daughter.
Is it coincidence that these gyrations not only connect Agapenor to Kinyras’ family line, and indeed make a Kinyras of him, but also generate the most famous episode of Kinyras’ own mythology—an incestuous union with his daughter?  Frazer saw in the myth of Myrrha/Smyrna a reflection of ritualized incest allowing continuous patrilineal control of an otherwise matrilineal royal line.