The Etruscan by Mika Waltari

Posted by admin_akashic on Mar 10th, 2022 in Stories

The sailing season was upon us and, after a winter of laboring to raise Himera’s walls, the men of Phocaea were restless, sniffing the winds and studying the heavenly portents. Dionysius had launched a new ship and both the penteconters had been caulked and tarred tighter than ever. There was not an oar, a rope or a knothole that Dionysius had not inspected with his own eyes. In the evening the sailors were already sharpening their light weapons and the marines, grown fat over the winter, were struggling to don their breastplates and cuirasses of bronze scales and piercing new holes in their straps. The oarsmen were singing rowdy songs of farewell, while the men who had married Himeran women in the autumn were beginning to wonder whether it would, after all, be wise to subject a frail woman to the dangers of the sea. And so the women, despite their tears and pleading, were to remain behind in Himera.

But Krinippos decreed that every wedded man must provide his wife with funds in accordance with his position on the ship, thirty drachmas for an oar and one hundred drachmas for a sword. In addition, every Himeran woman, whether single or wedded, who had become pregnant during the winter was to receive ten silver drachmas from Dionysius’ treasure.

Enraged by such extortionate demands, the sailors gathered in the market place to scream that Krinippos was the most thankless tyrant and the greediest human they had ever known.

“Are we the only men in Himera?” they wailed. “After all, your own symbol is the cock, and it is not our fault if we were contaminated by your city’s whoredom. All winter we have labored like slaves for you, and by night were so exhausted that we could only fall into bed. It is surely not our fault if the city’s maidens—yes, and matrons too— crept in beside us.”

But Krinippos was merciless. “The law is the law, and my word is the law in Himera. But willingly I grant you permission to take your wives with you and also those maidens whom you have made pregnant. The choice is yours.”

During the confusion Dionysius stood apart and made no attempt to defend his men. He still had to obtain water and supplies for the ships and above all the treasure from Krinippos’ stone vaults. As the men stormed about the market place, tearing their clothes in rage, he studied each shrewdly.

Suddenly he clutched the arm of the noisiest rower. “What is that mark on your back?”

The man glanced over his shoulder and explained eagerly, “It is a holy mark that will protect me in battle and cost only one drachma.”

A group of men clustered around Dionysius, each anxious to show his own holy crescent. Angrily Dionysius asked, “How many of you have such a mark and who made them?”

More than half the men had hastened to obtain the charm and the wounds had not yet healed, for the seer had but recently arrived in Himera. With a sharp knife he had shaped the crescent on the edge of the left shoulder blade, painted it with holy indigo, covered it with holy ashes and finally spat holy spittle on it.

“Bring forth the seer that I may study his own shoulder blade,” commanded Dionysius. But the seer who but a few minutes earlier had been drawing holy symbols on his tablet in a corner of the market place had suddenly disappeared, nor could he be found anywhere in the city.

That evening Dionysius came to see us with the chief helmsman of his large ship. “We are in grave danger because of that blue mark,” he said. “Krinippos will come here tonight to discuss the matter. Let us say nothing of our own affairs and merely listen to him.”

Dorieus explained eagerly, “My plans are now ready. I am glad that you, Dionysius, have decided to join forces with me so that we no longer have to compete for leadership.”

Dionysius sighed patiently. “That is so. But do not breathe a word about Segesta in Krinippos’ presence or he will not permit us to sail. Can’t we agree that I will have command at sea and you on land?”

“That may be best,” conceded Dorieus after a moment. “But when we go ashore we will have no further use for the ships, so I will have them burned.”

Dionysius nodded but with averted head. Mikon asked curiously, “Why are we so concerned about that blue mark and a charlatan who earns his living by deceiving susceptible sailors?”

Dionysius sent the helmsman to watch that no women crept behind the drapes to listen, then explained, “A Carthaginian ship has been sighted outside Himera. Presumably it is a courier ship whose task is to inform the Carthaginian fleet of our departure.”

“But Himera is not at war with the Phoenicians,” I protested. “On the contrary, Krinippos is a friend of Carthage. What has that to do with the seer or the mark?”

Dionysius touched the lower edge of my left shoulder blade with his thick forefinger and smiled a twisted smile. “Just there is the spot where the Carthaginian sacrificial priest begins skinning a pirate alive. The head, hands and feet he leaves untouched so that the victim may live for days. That is how Carthage punishes piracy.

“Yes,” he continued, “we have been discovered. The Carthaginians know that our loot is not from the battle at Lade, and for that reason we are no longer safe anywhere at sea. They have probably told their allies the Etruscans about us, too, although that does not matter much since we already know that they will not allow us to sail through their sea.”

Mikon, who had been drinking wine since morning, began to tremble. “I am not a coward,” he said, “but I am weary of the sea and with your permission, Dionysius, I shall remain behind in Himera.”

Dionysius roared with laughter and clapped him on the shoulder. “Stay if you wish. Nothing worse will happen than that some day Krinippos will be compelled to surrender you to the Phoenicians who will nail your skin to the sea gate at Carthage. Their spy has most certainly memorized our faces as well as those of our ablest helmsmen, for the Phoenicians are not thinking only of today but ten years hence in the event that we succeed in reaching Massilia.”

“But we are not sailing for Massilia,” interrupted Dorieus.

“Naturally not,” agreed Dionysius readily. “They merely think so because such a rumor has circulated. It is for that reason that they have marked even the lowliest of our sailors, so that they may recognize us anywhere and under whatever circumstances.” He laughed at our horrified expressions. “A man who thrusts his fist into a bee’s nest for honey knows what he is doing. You well knew what faced you when you joined our forces.”

That was not strictly true, but we had no desire to argue the matter. In the eyes of the Phoenicians, at least, we were bound skin and hair to him.

At that moment the helmsman appeared at the doorway wringing his hands and saying that the lady of the house and her friend sought entrance. Arsinoe brushed by him, holding in her arms a glossy-coated animal which she thrust toward me.

“See what I have bought, Turms!”

I looked at the spitting, gleaming-eyed animal and recognized it as a cat. The Egyptians consider it holy but one rarely encounters it in other lands. I had, however, seen one in Miletus, where women of the nobility kept cats in their homes, although they should have known better.

“It is a cat!” I cried. “Put down that dangerous animal instantly. Don’t you know that it conceals sharp claws in those soft paws?” I was shocked, not the least because I knew that cats are expensive and I never was quite sure how Arsinoe obtained the money for her purchases.

She laughed merrily. “Turms, don’t be unkind. Take it in your lap and pat it. You will find it enchanting.” She tossed the cat at me, whereupon it dug its claws into my chest, climbed onto my head, and from there leaped onto the shoulder of the Phoenician household god.

“All my life I have yearned for such an enchanting animal,” prattled Arsinoe. “Believe me, it is entirely tame. It was you who frightened it, Turms, with your cry of alarm. Think of its softness as it lies in bed guarding my sleep, with eyes glowing in the darkness like protecting lanterns. You cannot deny me that great joy.”

Feeling the pitying glances of the three men I flushed and protested, “I did not cry out nor do I fear the creature. But it is a useless animal and we cannot take it on board the ship when we shortly put to sea.”

“Say rather to Hades,” observed Dionysius sarcastically. “Well, Turms, I did not think that you would prove to be the most loose-tongued of us all.”

“But the entire city already knows that you are about to sail,” said Arsinoe innocently. “The council of Carthage demands that Krinippos either detain or deport you. Even the merchant who sold me this beautiful animal knew that and for that reason sold it to me cheaply, so that it would bring us luck at sea.”

Dionysius raised his arms. “May the gods have mercy on us!” he prayed.

“It is obviously a Phoenician scheme,” I said. “They have thrust the cat on Arsinoe so that it will bring us misfortune. The merchant must have been a Phoenician.”

Arsinoe hugged the cat to her. “On the contrary, he was Etruscan and a friend of yours, Turms. His name is Lars Alsir. That is why he gave me the cat on credit.”

That relieved my mind, for Lars Alsir would hardly wish me ill. Dionysius burst into laughter, extended a hand cautiously toward the cat and began rubbing its chin with a heavy forefinger.

Arsinoe looked at him gratefully. “You understand me best of all, Dionysius,” she murmured. “Isn’t Turms childish not to see what takes place before his very nose? No Phoenician merchant could have sold me anything because they have all discontinued trading and have hired men armed with battle-axes to stand guard over their shops. Moreover, they have. forbidden all other merchants to trade with us under threat of banning all Carthaginian goods in the future. That I think is silly, for the task of a merchant is to trade and not to prevent trade.”

Still absently scratching the cat, Dionysius called his helmsman and ordered, “Go immediately and arouse the priests of Poseidon and have them sacrifice ten bulls for us, cost what it may. If necessary have some trustworthy resident purchase them in his own name. The thighbones and fat may remain at the altar, but the meat must be stored in the vessels tonight.” He turned back to Arsinoe. “I apologize for interrupting you, but watching you and the cat I was suddenly overcome by an irresistible desire to sacrifice ten bulls to Poseidon.”

Arsinoe narrowed her eyes playfully. “Lars Alsir would hardly have dared sell me the cat if people knew that I am Turms’ companion. But of course no one does know, although I arouse great curiosity when I walk through the city with a boy holding my parasol.”

I held my head in dismay, for I had sharply forbidden her to leave the house or to attract attention in any way. But she looked at me sharply. “That reminds me. Lars Alsir said something about you and Krinippos’ granddaughter. What has taken place between you and that girl?”

At that moment, of course, Krinippos’ faithful runner arrived to inform us that his master was on his way, and a minute later Krinippos himself pushed into the chamber, sandals in hand and panting heavily. He was followed by a trembling Terillos, his bald head covered with a golden wreath, and—as though summoned by evil spirits—Kydippe.

When Arsinoe saw her she thrust the cat from her lap and rose threateningly. “Since when have girls taken to pursuing men? I can believe almost anything about Himera, but that a father accompanies his daughter to stalk a man who is not interested—” She took a step toward Kydippe and laughed. “Why, she has not even breasts! And her eyes are too tar apart and her feet are huge.”

All I could do to silence Arsinoe was to snatch her in my arms and carry her, kicking violently, to our room. The cat shot by us and was already on the bed when I tossed Arsinoe there so hard that she had difficulty in recovering her breath.

Finally she spoke. “Turms, how can you treat me so cruelly? Is it because you love that spoiled girl? It was for her sake that you went to Eryx. Why then did you entice me to follow you, when you consider me only your plaything?”

“Save your strength,” I said. “This very night we may sail, so pack your possessions and pray to the goddess.”

She clutched at my robe and shouted, “Don’t evade me, you traitor! Confess at once what that girl has been to you so that I may kill her.” “You are wrong, all wrong,” I assured her. “I was even more surprised than you to see Kydippe, and cannot understand why her witless grandfather should have brought her to a secret conference. Nor do I understand why Lars Alsir, whom I believed to be my friend, should have gossiped to you about such a trivial matter.”

Arsinoe smiled in apparent satisfaction, then spoke again. “Now I remember. Lars Alsir sent you a message, but what it was I cannot say at the moment for you have driven it from my mind. I am glad that we are going where there will be no foolish girls to distract you, which seems incredibly easy to do.”

Only then did I realize that there would be only men on board the ship, and that a woman like Arsinoe, even without a cat, could drive a crew to destruction.

Suddenly she reached into her bosom. “Now I remember Lars Alsir’s message.” She brought forth a tiny sea horse the size of my thumb and carved of black stone. “He sent you this as a memento. He said as a joke that you could settle your debts with him another time when you come into your kingdom, so I selected a few small pieces of jewelry in addition to the cat. He also gave me a golden sea horse to make sure that I gave you the stone one.”

“What was the message?” I asked impatiently.

“Don’t hurry me.” She wrinkled her brow in thought. “He said that presumably nothing bad would happen to you, but that you have bound yourself to the earth. Then he said—and this he impressed on me—that two Carthaginian warships are hidden on a beach west of Himera, and that outside the city walls, by the altar of lacchus, there is a pyre which will be lighted as a signal if you should sail at night. More warships are on their way, he said, so it would be wisest to escape in time.”

She stretched out on the bed temptingly, but I dared not look at her. The news she had given me was of greater importance.

“I must go,” I said hastily. “The conference has begun and Dionysius needs me.”

“Won’t you even kiss me good-bye?” she asked faintly. With closed lids I bent over her. She held my head to her breast only long enough to make it difficult for me to leave, then thrust me from her. As she lay back on the bed and reached for the cat her eyes shone in triumph.