The Etruscan by Mika Waltari

Posted by admin_akashic on Mar 10th, 2022 in Stories

During that winter in Segesta a strange oppression came over me. There was no apparent reason for it, since I was highly respected as Dorieus’ companion and Arsinoe for her part had forgotten her capri-ciousness and withdrawn from the public eye to await our child. She grew fatter and calmer and sometimes in her moments of fear turned to me with greater tenderness than ever before. But she did not speak much and it seemed at times as though I were living with a strange woman. Whenever I thought of our coming child, it, too, seemed a stranger.

. But if I suffered, Dorieus did likewise. He had reached his goal and in reaching it had lost it, so that he no longer knew what he wanted. His experiences at sea had so unsettled him that during his spells of melancholy his eyes stared vacantly as though everything in him were but gray salt. He had lost all interest in Tanakil and often spoke to her sharply.

Dog breeding and horse racing did not appeal to him. Instead, he tried to interest the Segestan youths in developing their bodies in the Greek manner. They watched his skillful performances in the stadium with respect, but observed that there was nothing admirable in exhausting oneself when professional athletes could obtain better results than any amateur.

Dorieus did succeed in calling together all able-bodied men regardless of rank or trade for military exercises on certain days. Many of them complained of aches and reported themselves ill time and again, but the people realized the necessity for learning to use arms if they intended to retain their power. Dorieus pointed out that a well-armed city is more respected at negotiations than a weak one and the people knew that with the coming of spring the council of Carthage would hold them responsible for the fate of its emissaries. Although the Segestans intended to blame Dionysius for everything, a feeling of guilt induced the people to run themselves to a sweat and to strain their limbs at the exercises which they heartily despised.

After a time they gladly acceded to Dorieus’ suggestion that the city install as a permanent garrison one thousand youths from among those who had indicated aptitude and who had no desire to follow other trades. Dorieus divided the youths into groups of one’hundred, lodged them in various houses and himself often slept among them to avoid sharing the marriage bed with Tanakil. He maintained strict discipline and each had to obey the leaders selected by him, but despite this the robberies and outrages increased. The only difference was that the guilty were not discovered as readily as before. If one of Dorieus’ wreath-crowned youths was found guilty of a crime, Dorieus had him severely whipped.

“I am not punishing you for the crime,” Dorieus would explain, “but for the fact that you were discovered.” That appealed greatly to his men who admired him more than the city council which paid their wages.

Dorieus managed to pass his time, but whenever a melancholy mood came upon him he retired to his room for many days and did not consent to talk even to Tanakil. Through the walls we heard him cry out to his forefather Herakles and endeavor to conjure up again the white-limbed Thetis.

When he had recovered, he called Mikon and me to him, drank wine with us and explained, “You cannot know how difficult it is to be a king, and bear the responsibility for an entire city’s welfare. My divine heritage likewise complicates my position and makes me lonely.” He turned his head painfully. “Although I have appeased my father’s spirit and attained my legacy, my head aches to think that I shall leave behind nothing but enduring fame. I should have an heir to give purpose to all that has happened. But Tanakil can no longer give birth to one, and I have not the slightest desire to adopt her sons, as she suggests.”

I admitted that such a problem was enough to make one’s head ache. “Yet of us three, you should look to the future with the greatest confidence,” I said consolingly, “for the gods have charted your path with such clarity that you could hardly have done other than what you did. In your position I would not worry about an heir, for in time you will surely have one if it is so ordained.”

I thought the moment propitious for announcing Arsinoe’s condition since it could no longer be concealed. It was surprising that Mikon’s experienced physician’s eye had not already noticed it.

“Not all are equally favored by fortune, Dorieus. I have gained nothing from our expeditions, I am still your companion and have not even my own hearth, although poor Arsinoe is awaiting my child. It can no longer be concealed, for she should give birth in but a few months, at the darkest time of the year.”

Enthusiastically I babbled on. “You, Dorieus, naturally know little about women’s affairs, but you, Mikon, should have noticed it long ago. Therefore congratulate me and let us shake hands. You have everything else, Dorieus, but I shall have what you never will have unless the situation unexpectedly changes.”

Dorieus jumped to his feet, knocked over a valuable bowl and demanded, “Is that the truth? How can a priestess have a child?”

Mikon evaded my look and muttered, “Are you sure that you are not mistaken? I would not have wished that to happen to you.”

In my joy I failed to understand, and hastened to fetch Arsinoe to confirm the fact. Tanakil followed us suspiciously.

Arsinoe stood before us, already awkward and with a dreamy look in her eyes. “It is true,” she admitted humbly. “I am expecting a child which will be born at the most dismal time of the year. But I assure you that I am still under the protection of the goddess. My dreams and omens have clearly indicated that.”

Tanakil’s face darkened in envy. Glaring alternately at Arsinoe and Dorieus, she screamed, “I -suspected it but could not believe my own eyes. You have brought shame upon my house. Don’t drag the goddess into this affair, either. It is the fruit of your own cunning in trying to outdo me in shrewdness.”

Dorieus stared at Arsinoe and raised a hand to silence Tanakil. “Shut your mouth, you Phoenician hag, or you will become still uglier in my eyes than you already are. This is not your house but the king’s residence which I won with my sword. And don’t envy Arsinoe. Instead, look upon her condition as an omen, although I must think hard to determine just how it is to be interpreted.”

He covered his eyes for a moment, then his face softened and he smiled. “Don’t be afraid, Arsinoe. I shall take you under my protection and all will be well. The child will not bring you shame but rather glory. Tell me, do you think that it will be a boy or a girl?”

Arsinoe said shyly that one could not know in advance, but that she felt almost certain it was to be a boy.

I remember little about the birth except that it happened on the rawest night of the year and that the boy came into the world at dawn while a cold rain poured down on the land. Arsinoe nursed the child herself, for despite her apparent frailness the goddess blessed her with an abundance of milk. The boy himself was strong and cried lustily from the very beginning. I was so relieved that I wanted to name him immediately, but Dorieus said, “There is no hurry. Let us wait for the right omen.”

Arsinoe agreed. “Don’t hurt Dorieus by choosing a name hastily. It will be better for us and for the boy also if Dorieus names him.”

I was not happy to have Dorieus interfere in matters that were not his concern. He seemed as bemused as I, watched the child with interest and even gave an offering of thanks in the temple which he had robbed from the Phoenicians’ god of fire and dedicated to Herakles.

As spring came, with its bright rains and violent storms that felled trees in the forests, Dorieus became increasingly gloomy. He began to stare at me peculiarly, and frequently I would come upon him watching the child and talking with Arsinoe. As soon as I entered they would stop and Arsinoe would begin chattering about something foolish.

With the approach of the full moon I grew restless, had bad dreams and began to walk in my sleep, something which had never happened to me before. I felt that Artemis was haunting me and tried many ways to avoid leaving the room at night, but nothing helped. Most alarming was the fact that Arsinoe’s cat always followed me, slipping out of the door behind me. I would awaken in the middle of the street when it rubbed its head against my bare leg.

Once again I awakened in the middle of the night with the moon shining on my face. I saw that I was standing by the pen of the holy dog Krimisos and that on the stone step sat the beggar girl whom Tanakil had called from the crowd to care for the dog. Chin in hand she stared at the moon as though under its spell. I was touched to think that someone else was awake because of the moon, even though that someone was but a little girl. During the yearly celebration she had been legally married to the holy dog in accordance with tradition, had baked a wedding cake and had shared it with the dog. Since then she had lived around the pen and, like the slaves and servants, had been fed from the king’s kettles. She had nowhere else to go, for she was a lowborn girl and had lost her parents.

“Why are you awake, litle girl?” I asked, sitting beside her on the stone step.

“I am not a little girl,” she replied. “I am ten years old. Besides, I am the wife of the dog Krimisos and a holy woman.”

“What is your name, holy woman?”

“Egesta,” she said proudly. “You should know that, Turms. But my real name is Hanna. That is why people throw stones at me on the street and shout insults.”

“Why are you awake?” I asked again.

She looked at me in distress. “Krimisos is ill. He just lies still and breathes heavily and doesn’t eat anything. I think he’s too old and doesn’t want to live any longer. If he dies, the people will blame me.” ,She showed me the bites on her thin arms, sobbed and said, “He doesn’t even want me to touch him any more, although we were such good friends. I think that his ears are sore, for he often shakes his head. But if I touch him he bites.”

The girl opened the door and showed me the holy old dog panting heavily on its straw, an untouched bowl of water by its muzzle. It opened its eyes but did not even have the strength to bare its fangs when Arsinoe’s cat slipped like a shadow into the pen and began to circle the holy dog. The cat thereupon lapped at the water, was reassured, rubbed its side against the dog’s neck and gently began to lick its ear. The dog permitted it to do so.

“This is a miracle!” I cried. “It must be that holy animals recognize each other. The cat is so holy that in Egypt any person who harms one is instantly killed. Why it is holy I do not know.”

The girl said in amazement, “My, husband is ill and suffering and I cannot comfort him but a cat can. Is it your cat?”

“No,” I replied, “it belongs to my wife, Arsinoe.”

“You mean Istafra,” corrected the girl, “the priestess who fled from Eryx. Is she supposed to be your wife?”

“Of course she is. We even have a son. You must have seen him.”

The girl stifled a titter with her palm, then became serious again. “Is he really your son? It is Dorieus who carries him in his lap while the woman follows, holding onto the king’s robe. But she is a beautiful woman, that I do not deny.”

I laughed. “Dorieus is our friend and fond of the boy since he has not an heir of his own. But both the boy and the wife are mine.”

The girl shook her head in disbelief, then looked at me. “If I were more beautiful, would you take me in your lap and hold me close? I feel like crying.”

Her thin girl’s face moved me. I touched her cheek and said, “Of course I will take you in my lap and comfort you. I myself am often unhappy even though I have a wife and son, or perhaps because of that.”

I lifted her onto my lap, she pressed her tearstained cheek against my chest, wound her arms around my neck and sighed deeply. “It feels so good. No one has held me like this since my mother died. I like you more than Dorieus or that bloated Mikon. When I asked him to look at the dog he said he took care only of people and wanted to know who would pay him. Yes,” she repeated, “I like you very much because you are good to me. Doesn’t this make you think of anything?”

“No,” I said absently.

Suddenly she squeezed me hard. “Turms, I am hard-working and willing to learn, I can stand beatings and I eat little. If the dog dies, won’t you take me under your protection, if only to care for your son?”

I looked at her in surprise. “I can talk to Arsinoe about it,” I promised finally. “Do you know how to take care of children?”

“I have even taken care of a prematurely born boy and kept him alive on goat’s milk when his own mother spurned him,” she said. “I can spin and weave, wash clothes, prepare food, and prophesy from chicken bones. I could be very useful to you but I would rather be beautiful.”

I looked at her dark face and bright girl’s eyes and explained gently, “Every young woman is beautiful if she wants to be. You should learn to bathe like the Greeks, to keep your clothes clean and comb your hair.”

She drew back. “I don’t even have a comb,” she confessed, “and this is my only dress. For the festivities I was washed and combed, anointed and clothed, but the festive garments were taken away as soon as the wedding cake had been eaten. I cannot go naked to the well to wash this.”

“Tomorrow I shall bring you a comb and one of my wife’s old garments,” I promised. But I forgot.

The next day was oppressively hot, as though it were midsummer, the sun was scorching and the air still. The dogs howled restlessly in their pens and many broke loose, fleeing from the city. Flocks of birds swirled up from the forest and flew toward the blue mountains. Tanakil’s sons came to consult their mother, withdrawing with her inside four walls.

Then, before the hour of rest, Dorieus summoned Arsinoc and had her bring the boy.

“It is time for the goddess to appear,” he said harshly. “I have listened to excuses too long. Prove that you are still a priestess and show your skill. You must decide whether or not I launch a military expedition against Eryx tomorrow.”

I tried to discourage him. “Are you mad or just drunk, Dorieus? Surely you wouldn’t deliberately start a war with Carthage?”

Arsinoe whispered to me, “Don’t say anything rash that might excite him. I’ll try to calm him for he trusts me.”

Body dripping with sweat from the heat, I waited behind the door. Their voices came to me in a confused mumble as though they were arguing.

Finally the door creaked and Arsinoe appeared, crushing our sleeping boy to her. Her face was wet with tears.

“Turms,” she whispered in agony, “Dorieus is stark mad. He thinks that he is a god and that I am the sea goddess Thetis. I finally succeeded in putting him to sleep. He is snoring now, but as soon as he awakens he will kill both you and Tanakil.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “You are the one who is mad, Arsinoe. The heat has unbalanced your mind. What reason has he to kill me, even if he is tired of Tanakil?”

Arsinoe groaned and covered her eyes. “The fault is mine,” she confessed, “although I meant it for the best and didn’t think that he would go so far. You see, for one reason or another, Dorieus believes the boy to be his and because of that wants Tanakil and you out of the way so that he can marry me. But I never intended this. My plan was entirely different.”

I shook her arm. “What had you planned and whatever gave Dorieus the idea that our son is his?”

“Don’t shout,” begged Arsinoe. “It is just like you to seize on trivial details when your life is at stake. You know how stubborn Dorieus is when he gets an idea. He himself noticed that the boy supposedly resembles him, whereupon in jest I painted a mark on the boy’s thigh to resemble the birthmark which true descendants of Herakles are said to bear. But I didn’t think that Dorieus would turn against you. I did it only so that he would make the boy his heir.”

Seeing my face, she pulled herself free and said, “If you hit me I shall awaken Dorieus. I thought he had sense enough to conceal his feelings, but he covets me and hates you so since the birth of the boy that he no longer wants to breathe the same air with you.”

My thoughts were like a swarm of angry wasps. I should have guessed that behind her apparent docility Arsinoe had been scheming a more dangerous plot than one involving merely clothes and jewels. In my heart I knew that she spoke the truth and that Dorieus planned to kill me. A sudden chill came over me.

“I suppose you hope that I will slit his throat while he sleeps. But first tell me how you succeeded in quieting him.”

Arsinoe opened her eyes and said innocently, “I merely held his hand and assured him that he would meet the goddess in his dreams. What is it that you suspect, Turms?” Then she paled. “If you have ever doubted my love for you, you can do so no longer, for it would have been more advantageous for me to remain silent and let him kill you. But I could not bear to lose you. Neither do I want harm to come to Tanakil although she has so often hurt me.”

That last sentence she added presumably because she noticed Tanakil’s approach.

“I can thank you, Istafra, for my marriage but also for my misfortune. You have tried to bite off more than you can swallow, and I hope that you choke on it. I suspect also that you used your wiles at sea, for why else should Dorieus have begun to rave about that white-limbed Thetis?”

“Tanakil,” I warned her, “don’t talk nonsense even though you hate Arsinoe. During the voyage Arsinoe was sick and smelled vile, she was wet from the brine and unable to care for her beauty. She could have had nothing to do with Dorieus’ visions.”

My words wounded her vanity. “What do you know about the goddess’s miracles, Turms?” she demanded angrily. “Tanakil is much wiser. I assure you that everything happened as was meant, for the goddess has always yearned to assume a sea guise.”

Tanakil looked at me shrewdly and advised, “You would be wise to take that candlestick and smash Arsinoe’s head. Thereby you would spare yourself much grief. But it is useless for us to chatter. What do you intend to do, Turms?”

“Yes,” demanded Arsinoe, “what do you intend to do?”

I became even more confused. “Is it my duty to solve the problem that you have created? So be it. I will fetch my sword and run it through his throat, although not gladly, for he has been my friend.”

“Yes, do that,” urged Arsinoe eagerly, “and while you are about it, seize the dog crown, win the soldiers to your side, pacify the council of Carthage and make me the priestess of Eryx by peaceful means. I could not ask for more than that.”

Tanakil shook her head in pity. “It would not go well with you, Turms, if Dorieus were to be found with his throat slit. But have no fear. I have seen three husbands to the grave and I dare say I have the strength to bury yet a fourth. It is my duty to perform this last service for him before he takes my life and plunges all Eryx into disaster. Go your way, both of you, take the accursed bastard with you and pretend that you are aware of nothing.”

She sent us to our room, where we sat silently with folded hands. I stared at our son and tried to find something in his infant face that might have given Dorieus reason to believe the boy his. But look as I might, I could see only that his mouth was mine and his nose Arsinoe’s.

Suddenly the earth rumbled with a noise more terrifying than any I had ever heard. The ground beneath us shook, the floor cracked, and the sound of crumbling walls reached our ears. Arsinoe snatched the boy into her arms while I shielded her with my body as we rushed into the street through the twisted gate. Arsinoe’s cat swished by us in terror.

Again the ground shook and walls cracked. Then the sky darkened, the wind began to blow and the air suddenly cooled.

“Dorieus is dead,” I said slowly. “This land was his, and it quivered at his passing. Perhaps he really was descended from the gods, although it was difficult to believe that when he smelled of human sweat and shed human blood.”

“Dorieus is dead,” Arsinoe repeated, then asked quickly, “What will become of us now, Turms?”

Frightened people were carrying things out of their houses, while beasts of burden ran wildly through the streets. But as the wind blew the air freshened and it was as though I were once again free.

Tanakil came out of the king’s residence. She had torn her clothes as a sign of grief, and in her hair was some rubble from the housetop. Her sons followed her, arguing loudly as always.

Arsinoe and I went with them to Dorieus’ room where Mikon with his physician’s case was studying the body in amazement. Dorieus lay on the couch, his face black, tongue swollen and lips blistered.

Mikon said slowly, “If it were summer and the time for wasps I would swear that a wasp had bitten his tongue. That happens to a drunkard who falls asleep with his mouth open or to a child who crams a wasp into his mouth with berries. But whatever the reason, Dorieus’ tongue has swelled and choked him.”

Tanakil’s sons cried out with one voice, “This is fate and a singular coincidence! We remember well that our father died in almost exactly the same manner. His tongue also swelled and his face blackened.”

Tanakil stared at Dorieus’ blackened face and body that was divinely tall even in death. “Nothing matters to me any more, but don’t you dare touch Turms.” She turned her aged, sorrow-lined face toward Arsinoe. “Turms may leave in peace, but we will send that goddess’s harlot back to the temple to pay the penalty for her flight. She is a temple slave and her son also is a slave and as such the property of the temple. Let them castrate the boy and train him to be a priest or a dancer. But first they must punish the woman as befits an escaped slave.”

I looked at Tanakil standing there with dirt in her dyed and coronet-wound hair, her clothes torn and her ancient face set in fury. She seemed like the embodiment of an alien god.

She smiled grimly and flicked away the flies that were beginning to hover about Dorieus’ eyes and mouth. “I have already felt the goddess’s wrath through your presence. Having lost Dorieus, whom I loved most dearly of my husbands, I no longer fear anything, divine or mortal.”

Suddenly her restraint crumbled. She struck her mouth with her fist so that the ivory teeth broke and blood began to trickle from her thin lips. Digging her nails into her breasts, she wailed, “You don’t know how deeply an old woman can love! I wanted him dead rather than despising me.”

I put my arm around Arsinoe and said firmly, “I am bound to Arsinoe and will take her and the boy with me regardless of your laws. Try to prevent me, Tanakil, and you will see what happens.” Once more I was ready, sword in hand, to abduct. Arsinoe and to die rather than be separated from her and the boy.

Mikon, plump and bloated from the wine though he was, collected the remnants of his wits and said decisively, “I also am a stranger in the city and an undesirable person if I have to testify as to the cause of Dorieus’ death. For the sake of our friendship, Turms, I feel it my responsibility to prevent Arsinoe and the boy from falling into the hands of evil priests.”

Tanakil’s sons glanced at her uncertainly. “Shall we call the guards and have them killed, Mother? That would be the easiest way of ridding ourselves of them. You may determine what happens to the woman.”

Tanakil pointed an accusing finger at Arsinoe. “Look at that too beautiful face!” she cried. “Look at that face that changes with her every whim. If I send her back to the temple she will surely win over the priests. I know her too well. No, the best punishment for her is to follow Turms as a fugitive, taking the boy with her. Let the sun darken her white face, let her limbs wither from want. Not a single garment, not a jewel or a silver coin will you take from my house, Istafra.”

Arsinoe realized from Tanakil’s stony face that it was her final decision. For a brief moment she seemed to weigh the chances of regaining her old position in the temple, then raised her chin.

“Clothes and jewels I can always get, but I can never win back Turms if I now leave him. You should be grateful to me, Tanakil. But for me you yourself would be lying there, your ugly face black and the mark of Dorieus’ fingers around your throat. Had I remained silent and let Dorieus fulfill his threat, everything would be different. But I didn’t want to lose Turms, nor do I hesitate to follow him now even if you should rob me of all I own.”

At that moment it was as though I stepped out of myself to watch everything from the side. I smiled. Irresistibly my glance was drawn to a pebble on the floor. I bent down to pick it up, hardly realizing what I was doing. It was an ordinary pebble that had been brought into the house by someone’s feet, and why I was compelled to pick it up I cannot explain, for I had no way of knowing that it again signified the end of one period in my life and the beginning of another.

I plucked the pebble from the floor, undisturbed by the fact that Tanakil was stamping her foot and demanding, “Go! Go quickly lest I regret it. Go as you are, for not one piece of bread, not one garment will you take from my house.”

Thus she banished us but did not dare to touch us or to set the guards upon us. Arsinoe managed to snatch up a child’s sheepskin and I took Dorieus’ heavy woolen mantle from the wall in addition to my sword and shield. Mikon had his caduceus and medicine case and at the doorway laid hands on a half-filled wineskin.

Because of the confusion wrought by the earthquake our flight attracted no attention. Crowds were pushing their way out of the city with their possessions to the open fields. The earthquake was, in fact, slight and caused little damage. Probably the land of Eryx sighed in relief at the death of Dorieus, descendant of Herakles, for had he lived he would surely have plunged it to destruction.

As we hurried toward the north gate in the midst of the moaning mass, the orphan girl Hanna, wife of the holy dog Krimisos, ran after us. Pulling at my robe, she said tearfully, “The dog Krimisos is dead. This morning it crept into the darkest corner of its pen, and when the earth began to shake and I wanted to lead it outside, it did not move. But your cat came to me and leaped into my lap in fright.”

She had wrapped the cat in her dress and held it to her so that her lower body was bare. I could not shake her loose for I had enough to do in running toward the gate with the crying boy in my arms. Arsinoe clung to my arm, Mikon panted behind us and the girl clutched tightly at my robe. Our departure from Segesta was not dignified.

No one stopped us. We crossed the open fields as quickly as possible and turned from the road toward the mountains into the evergreen forest. We spent the night under the trees pressed close to one another for warmth. We did not dare to build a fire until we met some Sicca-nians by their sacred rock. They welcomed us and we lived among them for five years. During that time Mikon disappeared, Arsinoe gave birth to a daughter, and Hanna grew into a maiden.

But before telling of that I must describe Tanakil’s fate. After Dorieus’ death Tanakil’s sons strengthened their power in the city and bribed the leaders of Dorieus’ forces to support them so that the city officials had little to say. For the sake of appearances they built a magnificent funeral pyre of oaken logs for Dorieus and before lighting it told their mother that they were tired of her lust for power and would send her back to Himera. Whereupon Tanakil said that life without Dorieus held little meaning and that she would rather share the funeral pyre with him in the faint hope of accompanying him to the underworld.

Her sons did not protest so Tanakil, garbed in her best, climbed the pyre, embraced Dorieus’ body a final time and with her own hands set fire to the logs. Her body burned with that of Dorieus.

All that I learned later from the Siccani and that is all I have to say about Tanakil and Dorieus.