The Etruscan by Mika Waltari

Posted by admin_akashic on Mar 10th, 2022 in Stories

Had he dared, Krinippos in his greed would certainly have kept our treasure and killed Dionysius and his crew. But being a cunning man, he felt a healthy respect for Dionysius’ shrewdness and was aware that all precautions had been taken against a surprise attack.

An old and sickly man who knew that death was gnawing at his belly like a crab, he clung to the vows by which he had sworn to govern Himera. And so I found him arguing with Dionysius about his share of the treasure, demanding a tithe in addition to the fines already decreed.

Kydippe looked from one to the other of us with ingratiating smiles but when I met her cold virginal eyes, I hastened to recount what I had just learned from Arsinoe. At the same moment the helmsman entered to announce that the sacrificial fires were already burning. Dionysius then sent him to destroy the signal pyre outside the city and to assemble the crews with all haste.

Faced by reality, Krinippos ceased his muttering and outlined a plan of action. Dionysius’ most trustworthy men were to force their way into his home during the early hours of the morning, beat the guards and break into the vault. The farewell gift could be scattered over the floor as though fallen from a torn sack.

Krinippos tittered and stroked his sparse beard. “I don’t know whether the Phoenicians will believe the story of your escape, but the council of Carthage is experienced. It enjoys peace and trade more than foolish discord and will quickly realize that it is to its advantage to believe what I say. Thus my reputation will remain unsullied although I have provided a haven for pirates all winter.”

We bade farewell to Krinippos, thanked him for his hospitality and wished him a long life.

The plan was executed swiftly and easily. Krinippos’ guards relinquished their weapons after only slight protests, after which Dionysius’ men tied them and happily kicked them full of bruises to provide evidence of a struggle. Frugal Krinippos had left the key to the vault in evidence to render unnecessary our breaking the complicated lock. We found our treasure much diminished but despite this there was more than enough for our sailors to carry through the city gates and to the shore, while the guards laughed at our exertion. The sacrificial meat was placed on board, the stores of oil and dried peas replenished, and the men even found time during their last moments on shore to steal some wineskins. Some also must have found time for other things, too, for we heard feminine wailings and shrieks from various houses.

The spring night enveloped us as we clambered over the wet stones to the trireme already floating free. Both smaller galleys slid ahead of us with a splash of oars and disappeared into the darkness so that we heard merely the muffled rhythmic beat of the gong across the water. Then Dionysius ordered our own vessel into action. The three rows of oars dipped into the water, tangling with one another. From below the deck we heard yelps of pain as the rowers, unaccustomed to the new galley, caught their thumbs between the oars. We lurched ahead uncertainly, saved from the reefs by a land wind that helped us until the men gained control of the oars and the vessel began to obey the tiller.

So we left Himera, and the sadness of departure filled my eyes with hot tears. Yet it was not so much for Himera that I wept as for my own enslavement. Only when Dionysius called on me for wind did I understand what Lars Alsir had meant in telling Arsinoe that I was bound to the earth. It was Arsinoe who drew me to the earth, confused my thoughts and made trivial matters seem important. The very thought of conjuring the wind made me realize the dreadful heaviness of my body. My power had been drained out of me by Arsinoe.

Dionysius heard my tortured breathing, patted my shoulder and said, “Do not exert yourself unnecessarily. It is better that we use the oars until we are accustomed to the vessel and know how it responds to the waves. A storm might snap the mast and sink us.”

“What is our direction?” I asked.

“Leave that to Poseidon,” he replied amiably. “But make certain that your sword has not rusted in its scabbard during the winter. You see, we are on our way to greet those two Carthaginian warships for the very reason that no one expects us to do so. I have passed a little time fishing along these shores and watched the schools of round dolphin. That is how I know the landmarks to the west and can guess the inlet in which the Carthaginians have beached their galleys if they are able mariners.”

“I thought you were planning to elude them under cover of darkness. Water was poured on their bonfire so that by dawn we would be out of sight.”

“But they would pursue us like a pair of hounds,” Dionysius pointed out. “No, their purpose is not to wage battle but to drive us straight into the lap of the fleet that is on its way here. Why shouldn’t I take advantage of the situation? Besides, the oarsmen will familiarize themselves with the new vessel more quickly if they realize that they must elude the murderous blow of a bronze ram. But if you are so opposed to fighting, Turms, you can go lie with your Arsinoe below deck.”

Sailing through the darkness and feeling the ship roll with the waves, I was overcome by despair. I knew nothing about currents and tides, I was unable to read the clouds like Dionysius, and the wind no longer obeyed me. I was merely earth and body. Everything around me happened merely by chance, nor was I consoled by the thought that Arsinoe awaited me in safety below. The certainty of all the sorrows and pleasures that she held in store for me was my bitterest knowledge.

With the break of day all three of our galleys were together and heading straight for an inlet. Seeing us appear like spirits from the shadowy sea, the Carthaginian lookouts no doubt could hardly believe their eyes. Immediately horns and drums began to sound their warning, and before we were in the shelter of the inlet both the warships were launched and their men armed. However, in the confusion born of surprise, contradictory orders were shouted, the beat of the gong faltered and the oars became tangled.

Dionysius roared encouragement to his men, and his amazing fortune enabled our vessel to pursue one of the fleeing Phoenicians and crush it against the rocky shore. Cries of terror arose from beneath us as the heavily armed marines of Carthage fell into the sea and the rowers sought to swim to safety. Only two archers attempted to cause trouble, but one of them Dionysius pinned to the deck with his spear while the other was swept into the water by the rowers.

Recognizing certain disaster, the second Phoenician galley made for the shore and its crew fled to the safety of the woods. Those of their companions who had managed to escape from the first vessel followed, and soon arrows began to rain on us from the shore. Some of them penetrated the oar ports, wounding several rowers and giving a thankful Mikon reason to go below. The arrows became so thick that Dionysius hastily gave the order to retreat.

“In the Phoenician manner they have more archers than swordsmen,” he said. “It is not from cowardice that I am pulling away, but because I do not wish to endanger our vessel on the rocks.”

All this time the Carthaginians were dragging their wounded to land, shouting encouragement to one another, shaking their fists at us and cursing in many languages.

Dorieus angrily held up his shield. “Let us go ashore and kill them,” he suggested. “It is shameful to tolerate such insults when we have vanquished them.”

“If we go ashore they will lead us into the woods where they will kill us one by one,” replied Dionysius. Then he continued thoughtfully, “The overturned vessel will never again be seaworthy, but the other must be burned even if the smoke betrays us. I will not have it nosing in our rear.”

“Permit me to add to my fame by going ashore and holding these Carthaginians at a distance until someone has set fire to their vessel,” suggested Dorieus.

Dionysius stared at him open-mouthed, then hastened to agree. “I ask for nothing better. I would have suggested it myself had I not feared that you might consider the task too humble for yourself.”

Dorieus then called to the men around him asking who of them wished to gain everlasting fame at his side, but the men of Phocaea suddenly found other matters of interest. Only when Dionysius observed that the Carthaginian galley might contain objects worth stealing did one of the penteconters approach, pick up Dorieus and take him ashore. Two men with tinder boxes and pitchers of oil hastily climbed aboard the Carthaginian vessel but Dorieus called out calmly to them not to hurry.

Seeing Dorieus standing there alone defiantly waving his shield, a bundle of spears under his arm, the Carthaginians momentarily ceased their howling. Then, when they noticed a wisp of smoke rising from their red-and-black galley, the commander and ten of his marines finally plunged in rage from the woods. They ran straight for Dorieus, who tossed his deadly spears with accuracy, felling four of the men. Then, baring his sword, he called upon his forefather Herakles to witness his deed and rushed toward the survivors. Several escaped but the others, including the commander, he killed.

Dionysius cursed in admiration as he watched the exploit. “What a fighter! Why did he have to take that blow on the head at Lade?”

During a lull Dorieus stooped over the Carthaginian commander. He had time to tear off the golden earrings and the heavy chain with its lion medallion before the spears and arrows again began flying from the woods. His shield drooped with the weight of the spears it bore and we heard the snap of the arrows as they struck his breastplates. Soon he plucked an arrow from his thigh, and a moment later another entered his open mouth, piercing the cheek.

With a shout of joy the Phoenicians ran out of the woods but he limped toward them, so tall and threatening that they suddenly spun around and fled, calling on their god for help as they ran.

Dionysius wept bitterly at the sight. “I cannot allow such a brave man to fall, although it would be for the good of us all.”

At that moment I knew that I also had secretly hoped for the worst. Guiltily I had watched the unequal battle without even attempting to go to his aid, and now it was too late. Dionysius called out to one of the penteconters to steer to the shore and fetch Dorieus, who waded out to meet it, staining the water red with the blood from his wounds.

So breathlessly had I followed Dorieus’ exploit that only after he was once more on the deck of the trireme did I notice that Arsinoe stood behind me, gazing in wide-eyed admiration at Dorieus. She was wearing only a short robe fastened with a wide silver belt which accentuated her slender waist.

Dionysius and the helmsmen stared at her and forgot Dorieus. Even the oars became tangled as some of the oarsmen caught sight of her through an aperture in the deck. But Dionysius quickly recovered himself and began to swear and roar and lay about him with his rope-end until the men returned to their tasks. The water again rushed past the bows and the burning hulk on shore soon lay far behind us.

Having divested Dorieus of his armor and watched Mikon apply healing salves to his wounds, I turned to Arsinoe in anger. “What do you mean by showing yourself to the sailors in that garment? Your place is below deck and see that you remain there. You might have been wounded by an arrow.”

Without taking any notice of me, she went over to Dorieus, looked at him admiringly and said, “Ah, Dorieus, what a hero you are! I thought I beheld the god of war himself and not a mere mortal. How crimson your blood is as it streams down your neck! I would heal that wounded cheek with a kiss if I could.”

His limbs stopped trembling and his lips grew calm. Recognition came into his eyes. He looked at her with desire, at me with disdain.

“Gladly would I have had Turms at my side as in the past,” he said. “I expected him but he never came. Had I known that you were watching I would have killed even more Carthaginians in honor of your beauty.”

Arsinoe glanced at me, her lips curved scornfully, and knelt on the rough planks beside Dorieus. “What an unforgettable battle! Would that I could have taken from the shore even a handful of sand or a shell in memory of your heroism.”

Dorieus laughed exultantly. “I would be worthless indeed if I were satisfied with sand and shells as battle trophies. Take these as a remembrance of this occasion.” He held out the golden earrings of the Carthaginian commander with his ragged lobes still sticking to them.

Arsinoe clapped her hands with joy, accepted the bloody gift with no revulsion, and began admiring the gleaming rings. “I cannot refuse since you insist. Naturally you know that I shall treasure them, not for their weight in gold, but because they remind me of your courage.” She waited expectantly for a moment but when Dorieus remained silent she shook her head. “No, I cannot take them after all for you yourself have nothing to show for your heroism.”

To disprove that Dorieus pulled out the chain and medallion and showed them to her. Arsinoe took the chain and studied it closely. “I know what it is,” she exclaimed, “it is the emblem of a naval commander. At school one of the girls was given such a chain and lion medallion by a satisfied guest. I remember well how I wept in envy, knowing that no one would ever give me such a gift.”

Dorieus gritted his teeth, for Spartans are not prodigal by nature, and said, “Take this also if it pleases you. It means little to me and I doubt whether Turms will ever be able to give you one.”

Pretending amazement, Arsinoe refused the offer many times and declared, “No, no, I cannot accept, nor would I if I were not anxious to erase my youthful humiliation at the temple school. Only because Turms and you are such good friends can I accept the gift. But how can I ever repay your goodness?”

Friendship was far from my mind as I watched that unworthy spectacle. But when she realized that Dorieus had nothing else to offer, Arsinoe rose, rubbed her bare knees and said that she would no longer disturb him since he was undoubtedly suffering from his wounds.

By that time Dionysius had the vessels in a column and the oar-strokes quickened to overcome the pull of the shore currents. Having watched us from the corner of his eye, he now approached, thoughtfully fingering the large gold rings in his ears.

“Arsinoe,” he said respectfully, “the men believe they have a goddess on board. But in watching you they forget to row and in time they may have even more dangerous thoughts. It would be better also for Turms if you were to go below and not show yourself too frequently.”

Seeing a stubborn look on Arsinoe’s face I said hastily, “I know that no one can compel you to do so, but it would be a pity if the burning sun were to scorch your milk-white skin.”

She screamed in dismay and attempted to cover as much of her bareness as she could. “Why didn’t you say so immediately?” she reproached me and hastily went below to the compartment which the helmsmen had made comfortable for her. I was left to trail behind like a pet dog.