The Etruscan by Mika Waltari

Posted by admin_akashic on Mar 10th, 2022 in Stories

When the sky lightened, a thick column of smoke was still rising from the city as a signal to the hundreds of Persian galleys which had rowed out to sea to engage us in battle. To the sound of trumpet and conch we rowed out to meet them in the battle formation determined by the council, the larger vessels in the center and the lighter on either side. The golden city of Miletus fell behind us. Progress was slow, for many oars snapped and the ships got in one another’s way. The closer we came to the Persians the closer the vessels hugged one another for mutual protection.

We saw the silver and bronze glimmer of the Phoenician ships with the frightening figures of their deities. But we also saw Greek ships from Cyprus as well as other Ionian galleys in the enemy’s formation. Ionian prisoners were sacrificed on the Phoenician vessels and their blood was spilled into the water under the prows.

The sea was rilled with Persian ships. But the allied fleet likewise covered the sea. Mallets began beating out a quickened rhythm on the brass gongs, the song of the oarsmen became frenzied. The water churned under the prows as the two rows of vessels sped toward each other. My throat was dry, my stomach tense with fear. Then I knew only the roar and the crash, the utter confusion, the splash of water and the screams of the dying.

We were fortunate in the first attack. Our ship under Dionysius’ command rowed at an angle towards the enemy’s galleys as though deliberately presenting their sides, then suddenly turned and rammed into the nearest vessel. It tilted over us, its men falling into the water and onto our deck. Arrows whistled through the air. Alternately rowing and backing water, we strove to free ourselves of the sinking ship. But as we pulled loose our stern crashed into another galley and men swarmed aboard. Our deck groaned under the weight of combat.

All five of our ships were tangled in a helpless knot among the enemy galleys. Our rowers ran to the decks with their weapons but many of them fell before the Persians’ arrows. In the confusion I found myself beside Dorieus on the deck of a Phoenician vessel, and before I even knew how it had happened we had taken the galley, flung the deity on its prow into the sea, and forced into the water all those who dared not fight and fall on the blood-stained deck.

But because of the meagerness of our forces we were compelled to abandon the ship and leave it drifting with broken oars. When the tumult had stilled and Dionysius had summoned his ships, all five responded and we saw that we had broken the enemy’s front. With the collective strength of our five galleys we surged toward the center where the magnificent vessels of Miletus were engaging the enemy.

By midday our penteconter was sinking beneath us and to save ourselves we were obliged to capture a Phoenician bireme. When Dionysius had raised his emblem he began to look around.

“What does that mean?” he demanded.

We saw sinking and drifting ships, swimmers and floating bodies, and men clutching oars and fragments of wood. Beyond them the Ionian fleet, which had remained behind to protect the strait of Lade, was rowing full speed towards our rear and before we realized what was happening it was attacking the vessels of its allies.

“They waited to see which side would be victorious,” said Dionysius bitterly. “With this deed they are bargaining for clemency for their cities. The goddess of victory has abandoned lonia.”

Nevertheless we continued to fight and lost two vessels in the unequal battle. We did, however, manage to rescue the survivors so that the three remaining galleys were fully manned. Dionysius ordered the Phoenician oar-slaves, whom he did not trust, to jump into the sea, then disengaged himself from the battle and turned his vessels towards the open waters. Many Ionian ships were fleeing northward, pursued by the relentless Persians. The Ionian oarsmen now had need of the strength that they had gathered while lying under their sails for weeks.

As one of the participants I should have more to tell about the sea battle at Lade. But I was inexperienced in naval warfare and my eye could not easily distinguish one vessel from another. Most indicative of my inexperience is the fact that I was amazed to see the heaps of treasure chests, expensive weapons, sacrificial vases and urns and gold jewelry on our ships. While I had been fighting for my life, Dionysius and his men had had time to rescue the treasure in the vessels they had captured, and hastily to cut off arms and thumbs that yielded bracelets and rings.

Dionysius was pleased with the Phoenician galley that he had seized. He rapped its cedar planks, inspected its accommodations and the placement of its rowers’ benches, and cried, “What a ship! If I had a hundred like it and each manned by Phocaeans, I could conquer every sea.”

He did not smash the deity’s figure but made it an offering. “Side with me, Phoenician god, whatever your name may be, and fight for us.” He made no changes on the ship other than painting large eyes on its prow so that it would find its way even on distant seas.

By nightfall the sea around us was deserted. Dionysius made no attempt to land but had the vessels proceed within calling distance of one another, with the rowers alternating at the oars. The moans of the wounded echoed through the ship and Dionysius’ only remedy was to wash the wounds with sea water and cover them with tar. Dorieus had acquired numerous bruises. He also had been struck on the head by an oar with such force that his scalp had split before he had succeeded in removing his helmet.

Seeing the misery around me in the dark of night and the frightening emptiness of the sea, I was ashamed of my own invulnerability and wept aloud, something I had not done since Herakleitos had banished me from his house, calling me ungrateful. I had danced the dance of freedom and helped the people to banish Hermadoros from Ephesus, and Herakleitos had been unable to forgive me.