The Etruscan by Mika Waltari

Posted by admin_akashic on Mar 10th, 2022 in Stories

Book Five
Voyage to Eryx
1.

Our return to Himera attracted no attention. Five we had been when we set forth and five returned. So consummately had Arsinoe assumed the countenance and demeanor of Aura that Mikon, his perception dulled from days of drinking in Eryx, actually believed her his wife. It was with difficulty that I banished him from Arsinoe’s resting place whenever he sought to exercise his conjugal prerogatives during the journey.

More important matters than our return occupied the people of Himera. A courier ship had braved the spring storms to bring news to Sicily of the fall of Miletus. The Persians, after a long siege, had taken the city by storm, plundered and burned it, and killed or enslaved its people. At the King’s express command Miletus had been leveled to the ground for its part in the rebellion. It had not been easy to destroy a city populated by hundreds of thousands, but the army had managed to do so, aided by engines of war and thousands of Greek slaves.

So ended the dance of freedom. Other Ionian cities suffered somewhat less. True, Greek tyrants again ruled, but the conquered cities experienced no worse than the usual slaughter, arson, raping and looting. But when the revolt had been quelled, the natives were, as always, more merciless than the strangers, and the reinstated tyrants so effectively purged the dancers of freedom that those who had been wise enough to flee to the west with their families and property could be counted fortunate indeed.

Such were the tales told of lonia. I, who felt that I had already discharged my duty in the rebellion, was not greatly moved by the fate of Miletus. But it must be said that much that was luxurious, refined and pleasurable in life disappeared forever with the destruction of Miletus. We drank a toast to its memory in Tanakil’s best wine, Dorieus and I, but we did not go so far as to cut our hair in mourning. That, we felt, would have been hypocrisy.

From Dionysius we obtained more dependable information, for as one who was himself well versed in the art of exaggeration he could easily strip senseless rumors to their core.

“Athens is not yet in ruins,” he said reassuringly, “although many swear that the Persian king himself has sailed to undertake retaliation for the Athenians’ raid on Sardis. But that will take many years. The Persian must first strengthen his hold on the islands, and launching an attack on the mainland of Greece requires lengthy preparations. It is said, however—and this I well believe—that he has instructed his favorite slave to whisper frequently into his ear, ‘My lord, forget not the Athenians.’

“That is how matters stand,” concluded Dionysius. “With the fall of Miletus the eastern sea is now the Phoenicians’, and the unnumbered ships of lonia are now Persian. Should the mainland fall there would remain only this Western Greece caught betwe’en Carthage and the Tyrrhenians. For that reason it would be wisest for us to retrieve our treasure from Krinippos’ vaults with all haste and sail for Massilia as though we had already arrived. Perhaps during our lifetime the clutch of the Persian may extend even to there.”

Mikon raised his hands in horror. “Surely you exaggerate, Dionysius! I know from history that no one, not even Egypt or Babylon, has yet ruled the entire world. For that matter, no one could conceive of Egypt’s fall. I was perhaps twelve when the rumor swept the islands that the great King Kambyses had conquered Egypt. My father, who was a learned man, refused at first to believe it, but when the truth could no longer be denied, he said that he had no desire to live in such times. And so he swathed his head in a cloth, lay down on his bed and died. Then they began to make jars ornamented in red in Attica as a sign that the world had turned upside down. But not even Darius could vanquish the Scythians.”

Dorieus became indignant. “Keep your mouth closed, physician, since you know nothing about warfare. No one can vanquish the Scythians because they wander with their herds from place to place. They have no true kingdom, and a victory of the Scythians would not bring honor to a soldier. I myself understand well the idea of world conquest. The Greeks who have become mercenaries in the forces of the Persian ruler have perhaps chosen the best lot. But my fate ordained otherwise and I must look to my inheritance while there is yet time.”

He grew silent, bit his lip, and studied Dionysius moodily. “I respect you at sea,” he said finally, “for in matters maritime there is none shrewder than you. But I was born to fight on land and so am troubled with things that are happening at home. The fate of Greece hangs in the balance. Should not this Western Greece strengthen itself while time permits? The first task would be to free Segesta and all Eryx and sweep the Carthaginian bridgeheads in Sicily into the sea.”

“Your plan is a good one, Spartan,” said Dionysius soothingly, “but many others have already attempted it. The bones of Phocaeans are rotting in Segesta’s fields, and you no doubt had the opportunity during your pilgrimage to pay homage to your late father’s spirit in the same region.” He scratched his head. “But why are we wasting time on trifles? Our task is to sail speedily to Massilia and there found a new colony to vex the Carthaginians.”

Dorieus lost all patience. “You may sail to Hades for all I care! I have heard so much talk about Massilia that my head aches!”

“It is that oarstroke you received at Lade,” nodded Dionysius sympathetically.

“Swordstroke, by Herakles!” corrected Dorieus angrily. “And do not tempt me to violate the laws of hospitality by killing you on the spot. I have no intention of sailing to Massilia, but will take possession of Segesta and Eryx to which I have a legal right as a descendant of Herakles. For that I shall need your ships and men, Dionysius, and our treasure. The venture looks promising, for my wife’s sons by her second husband are already preparing for a revolt in Segesta, and with Tanakil’s wealth we will buy allies from among the Siccani who dwell in the forest.”

He warmed to his story. “The conquest of Segesta will not even be difficult, for the nobles are interested only in breeding hunting dogs, and pay professional athletes to compete in their stead. Mount Eryx may be unconquerable, but I have a woman—” He stopped, glanced at me, flushed and corrected himself. “We have a woman, a priestess of Aphrodite, who is familiar with the subterranean passages of Eryx. With her aid we can seize the temple and its votive offerings.”

Now it was my turn to spring to my feet and demand, in a voice quivering with rage, “How and when have you had time to devise such schemes with Arsinoe behind my back? Why hasn’t she breathed one word to me?”

Dorieus averted his eyes. “Presumably you have other matters to discuss,” he said lamely. “We did not wish to disturb you. Arsinoe is quite willing to think for you, too.”

Mikon blinked, shook his head and asked, “Forgive me, but who is Arsinoe?”

“The woman whom you believe to be Aura is not Aura but a priestess of Aphrodite whom I abducted from Eryx,” I explained. “She merely assumed the guise of Aura to enable us to escape without detection.” When Mikon hid his face in his hands I continued encouragingly, “Don’t you remember that Aura died because of your unwarranted curiosity? You yourself heaped the white poplar into a funeral pyre and anointed her body.”

Mikon suddenly raised his head. His eyes began to shine and he cried gleefully, “So it was true, the goddess be thanked! And I thought that it was just the wine. Blessed be Aura’s bones!” In sheer joy he leaped from the couch and began to skip around the table, laughing and clapping his hands. “No wonder I was skeptical when I saw how Aura had changed, but I thought that it was the goddess’s doing. Now I know why I have lately experienced such rapture in her embrace.”

As the full significance of his words came over me my jaw dropped. Then my fingers curled to clutch his throat.

But Dorieus was faster. Face purple with anger, he shattered a drinking cup and roared, “You wretched charlatan! Have you dared to touch Arsinoe?” He would have pounced on Mikon but my cry arrested him.

“Mikon’s error is understandable,” I said slowly, my fingers twitching, “but why are you so anxious to defend Arsinoe’s chastity and honor? And once again, when have you enticed her to conspire with you about Eryx?”

Dorieus cleared his throat. “In no way have I enticed her, Turms, that I swear in the name of the goddess. It’s merely that Mikon’s vulgar talk about such a sensitive and noble woman distresses me.”

I wanted to scream, weep and break clay bowls, but Dorieus said hastily, “Control yourself, Turms. Why speak of such matters in the presence of a stranger?”

He glanced at Dionysius, who retorted, “I listened with curiosity to your political plans, but in all honesty I admit to even greater curiosity about the woman who has aroused such emotions in three so gifted men.

Hardly had he spoken than Arsinoe entered, followed by Tanakil in her finest garments and jewelry which jangled and clattered as she walked. Arsinoe in contrast was simply clothed, even more simply than I would have wished, for she wore only a sheer gown fastened at one shoulder with a large gold brooch. The result was revealing rather than concealing. She had combed her golden hair upward in the manner of the goddess and fastened it with jewels that she had stolen from the temple. Between her breasts was suspended, like an evil eye, the large moonstone I had given her. The golden Etruscan chain on which it hung was not my gift, since I had forgotten all about the matter during our busy days in Himera.

“Dionysius, mighty warrior of the sea,” she said in greeting. “I am happy indeed to see you after having heard so much about your exploits and, in all confidence, also about the treasures which you have stored in the vaults of the tyrant Krinippos.”

Dionysius looked her up and down, then cursed. “Are you mad, the three of you, or has a rabid dog bitten you, that you should reveal our secrets to a woman?”

Arsinoe bowed her head humbly. “I am but a weak woman,” she conceded, “but believe me, fair Dionysius, the deepest secrets of men are safer in my heart than are your treasures in the vaults of the greedy Krinippos.” She smiled, a new, wistful smile that I had never seen before.

Dionysius rubbed his eyes and shook his massive head. “The only thing which my slave mother could teach me was not to trust sailors. I myself have learned that no woman’s word is to be trusted. But when you look at me with those sad eyes, you priestess, I am overcome by a great temptation to believe that you among all women might be an exception.”

“Arsinoe,” I cried, “I forbid you to look at any man in that manner!”

But I might as well have spoken to a wall. Arsinoe did not even notice me, but seated herself lightly on the edge of Dionysius’ couch. Tanakil brought forth another pitcher of wine and Arsinoe offered Dionysius a goblet filled to the brim.

Absently he splashed the first drop on the floor and said, “I no longer remember just what I said, but your words amazed me. Strong I have been called by both men and women, but no one has yet dared call me fair, not even my own mother. Why did you use that word?”

Arsinoe rested her chin in her palm and with tilted head studied Dionysius. “Do not distract me with your glances, man of the sea, for you make me blush. Perhaps it isn’t proper for a woman to speak in this manner to a man, but when I entered and saw you there with those massive gold rings in your ears I was overcome with trembling. It was as though I saw a terrifyingly big and beautiful black-bearded god.” Rapturously, she continued, “Manly beauty is so rare. So rare and so dissimilar. Some may admire a slender youth—I, never. No, give me a man with limbs hard as logs, a curly beard from which a woman may hang with her full weight, and eyes bigger than those of the fairest ox. Ah, Dionysius,” she breathed, “I respect your fame, but most of all I admire you because you are the fairest man I have ever seen.” She raised her hand and touched the golden ring in his ear with slender fingers.

Dionysius recoiled as at the blow of a whip. “By Poseidon,” he muttered. He reached toward her cheek as though to smooth it, then recovered himself, swung to the other side of the couch and leaped to his feet. He cursed loudly twice, three times.

“Slut!” he roared. “Slut and once again slut, not one word of it do I believe.”

Cursing, he rushed from the room. We heard him snatch his shield from the entrance hall and stumble down the stairs, but before we could reach him he had recovered himself, plunged out of the house and into the street, slamming the gate behind him.

We returned to the room, glancing helplessly at one another. Arsinoe recovered herself first. “Dear Turms,” she coaxed playfully, “come with me. You are unnecessarily agitated. I have matters to discuss with you.”

As we left I saw Dorieus strike Mikon across the face so hard that he fell against the wall and slid to the floor with one hand holding his cheek.