The Etruscan by Mika Waltari

Posted by admin_akashic on Mar 10th, 2022 in Stories

When I heard the approaching steps of the Tyrrhenian and his companions I stirred the fire and added some of the wood that the Siccanians had brought, for the cooing of doves augured a cold night. Despite their woolen mantles Xenodotos and the merchant shivered with cold and hastened to the fire to chafe their limbs.

“Whence do you come and where do you obtain your salt?” I asked the Etruscan, to pass the time while waiting for Xenodotos to open our conversation. I did not wish to appear too anxious.

The Etruscan shrugged his shoulders and replied, “I come from the north beyond the sea and will return with the south wind directly home so that I will not have to follow the shores of Italy and pay taxes to the Greek cities. The Greeks make their own salt in Sicily but mine is cheaper.”

From my purse I took the sea horse of black carved stone which Lars Alsir had sent to me upon our departure from Himera. I showed it to him and asked, “Do you recognize this?”

He whistled as though calling for the wind, raised his right hand, touched his forehead with the left and demanded, “How have you, a Siccanian, obtained such a sacred object?” He asked to hold it, stroked its worn surface and finally asked to buy it from me.

“No,” I said. “You know well that such objects are not sold. In the name of the black sea horse I ask you to tell me exactly whence you come and where you obtain your salt.”

“Do you intend to compete with me?” he asked. But the very thought made him laugh. No one had ever heard of Siccanians sailing the seas. Their boats were tree trunks hollowed by fire or reed rafts with which they crossed rivers.

“I get my salt from the mouth of one of the great rivers of my homeland,” he told me. “We Etruscans have two large rivers of which this is the southerly one. The salt is dried on the shores of the sea, but higher up the river is the city of Rome which we founded. The salt road leading across the Etruscan country begins there.”

“Up the river, you said.” My curiosity was whetted and I remembered the willow leaf which had fallen before me onto the surface of the spring.

The Tyrrhenian’s face darkened. “Yes, that city was ours and we built a bridge across the river. Several decades ago the mixed peoples populating the city banished the last Etruscan king who was of the cultured house of the Tarquins. Now the notorious and the criminal seek refuge in Rome. Its customs are crude, its laws severe, and all that they know about deities is what they learned under our kings.”

“Why don’t you retake it from the usurpers?” I asked.

He shook his head. “You don’t understand our customs. Among us each city rules itself as it wishes. We have kings, tyrants and democracies like the Greeks. Only the inland cities are still ruled by Lucumones, and Tarquinius of Rome was not a holy Lucumo. Each autumn the leaders of our twelve cities gather on the shores of our sacred lake, and it was at such a meeting that the banished Tarquinius spoke on his own behalf and lots were drawn for Rome. When no one accepted the lot, the famous inland ruler Lars Porsenna finally took it. He conquered Rome but relinquished it because of the conspiracies against his life by the youths of the city.”

“You have no love for Rome,” I observed.

“I am a wandering salt merchant who obtains his salt from the merchants of Rome,” he replied. “A trader does not love or hate anything so long as he makes a profit. However, the Romans are not people of the sea horse, but people of the wolf.”

The hairs of my neck stood on end as I remembered the sign I had received. “What do you mean by ‘people of the wolf?”

“According to their tale the city was founded by twin brothers whose mother was the virgin of the sacred flame in a city farther up the river. The girl claimed that the god of war had made her pregnant. The city’s Lucumo had the newborn placed in a willow basket which was tossed into the flooding river. The basket floated to the foot of a hill where a she-wolf found the babies, took them to a cave and there suckled them with its own cubs. If that is true, some god may well have made the girl pregnant and thus have protected his heirs. But it is more probable that their father was of alien blood, for when the boys were grown, one murdered the other and he in turn was murdered by the people of the city they had founded. The Etruscans then took over the government and brought order to Rome. But no Lucumo was willing to rule so violent a city, hence its rulers were merely kings under the Tarquinian Lucumo.”

Although the Tyrrhenian’s tale was alarming I did not hesitate, for the signs were too clear to be misunderstood. The willow leaf meant a river, the wolf cub Rome, and the birds had flown northward with loud honkings. There I must flee with my family, nor would I have anything to fear in a city which, after banishing its king, welcomed even criminals and outlaws.

Xenodotos had been listening to our conversation impatiently and asked finally, “What are you talking about so busily, or have you already tired of conversing with me, you civilized Siccanian?”

“The merchant is telling me about his home town, although the Etruscans usually are not garrulous,” I replied. “But let us speak Greek again if you wish.”

The merchant said irritably, “I would certainly not have become talkative if you had not shown me the sacred sea horse. It is the work of the ancients and more valuable than my own bronze emblem.” Then regretting his candor, he went to rest and covered his head with his cloak. The servants also settled down to sleep.

When Xenodotos and I were alone I said to him, “I have a wife and two children, but because of the signs and omens that I have received I am compelled to leave the forest of the Siccani.”

“Come with me when I sail with Skythes back to lonia and from there to Susa,” he suggested. “The Great King will give you a place among his escorts as the Siccanian chief. Perhaps when you have learned the Persian language and customs the King may even make you the king of the Siccani.”

I shook my head. “My signs indicate the north and not the east. But if you will take me under your protection until I can sail from Sicily I will teach you all that I know about the Siccani and the land of Eryx, and that is not little.”

He protested and called me mad for not seizing an opportunity the like of which came but once in a lifetime to my kind.

I remained firm, however, and said, “As an Ionian you were born a scoffer and knowledge has deepened your skepticism. But even a skeptic must believe omens, if only in the same manner as Darius’ competitors when his horses were the first to whinny.”

We laughed together, but soon Xenodotos glanced toward the black forest, covered his mouth with his hand and said, “Still, I don’t reject heavenly or subterranean spirits. I know well that there are wanton shades which can chill a person’s blood.”

We talked of many other matters as well, while he cared for his beard, oiled his face and braided his hair for the night. He regretted not being able to serve wine because of the difficulties of transportation.

“But your friendship is more intoxicating to me than wine,” he said courteously. “You are a powerful man. I admire your strong muscles and your beautifully browned skin.” He began to caress my shoulders and cheeks with soft hands and insisted that I kiss him as a token of our friendship. Although he was a charming man and smelled sweet, I did not comply for I knew well what he wanted.

When he had returned to his senses we agreed that he would follow the Etruscan to the other trading places in order to sec as much as possible of the Siccanian territory and to mark on a map the rivers, springs, trading posts and mountains to the extent that it was possible in the bewildering forest. I said I would meet him at that same spot with my family when the merchant’s goods had been exhausted. Xenodotos wondered why I did not determine the day and moment of our meeting in advance. It was difficult for me to convince him that I would know of his coming anyway.

As I approached our home cave through the thickets, I heard the children’s merry voices, for Hiuls and Misme did not know how to play silently like the Siccanian children. In the Siccanian manner I entered without a greeting, seated myself on the ground and touched the warm hearthstones. The children hastened to clamber onto my shoulders and from the corner of my eye I noticed the dumb joy in Hanna’s dark face. But Arsinoe was angry, slapped the children and demanded to know where I had again been without leaving word of myself.

“I must talk to you, Turms,” she said and sent the children into the forest with Hanna.

I tried to embrace her but she thrust me away. “Turms, my patience is at an end. I can bear no more. Doesn’t the sight of your children growing into barbarians without proper companions make you suffer? Soon it will be time for Hiuls to receive instruction from an able teacher in some civilized city. I don’t care where we go so long as I can breathe city air, walk on paved streets, visit the shops and bathe in warm water. You have made me so poor, Turms, that I don’t demand much of you. But this much at least you owe me, and think also of the children’s good.”

She talked so fast that I had no chance to speak, and when I tried to put my arms around her she again pushed me away.

“Yes, that’s all you want of me and it makes no difference whether I am lying on coarse moss or on a triple mattress. But I have listened to your excuses long enough, and you will not touch me until you have promised to take us away from here. Otherwise I will leave with the first merchant who comes along and take the children with me. I think I am still enough of a woman to be able to entice a man although you have done your best to destroy my beauty and health.”

She paused for breath. I stared at her through new eyes and felt no desire to embrace her. Hatred had made her face hard as a rock, her voice was shrill and the strands of her black hair wriggled on her shoulders like snakes. An evil spell caught me in its grip as though I were staring at the face of Gorgon. I rubbed my eyes.

Thinking that I was searching for new excuses to remain with the Siccani, she stamped her foot and raged, “Cowardice makes you hide behind the trees and be content with a worthless life. If I had believed Dorieus I would be the queen of Segesta and the personification of the goddess for the entire land of Eryx. I don’t understand how I could ever have loved you and I don’t regret that I have had my own joys of which you are unaware.”

Realizing that she had said too much she corrected herself smoothly. “I mean that I have met the goddess and that she enters my body as before. Now that the goddess has forgiven me I no longer have any reason to avoid people.”

It was her turn to evade my glance. She softened, seized my arms and said, “Turms, remember that you can thank only me for your life when Dorieus planned to kill you.”

Having learned to lie to Arsinoe, it was easy to conceal my thoughts from her, although there was a roaring in my ears and comprehension came to me in a sudden flash as though a layer of dark clouds had been rent.

Controlling myself, I said to her, “If the goddess actually has appeared to you that is a sufficient sign. We shall leave within a few days, for I have already arranged everything. But the pleasure of my surprise is spoiled by your cruel words.”

At first she did not believe me, but when I told her about the Etruscan and Xenodotos she burst into tears of joy, came to me tenderly and would have embraced me in gratitude. For the first time she had to coax me before I consented to take her in my arms. When I had relented I jestingly told her about Xenodotos’ attempt to seduce me.

Arsinoe stared past me with eyes like dark pools and said, “He is much mistaken in believing that he can find greater joy in a man than in a woman. If you were not so ridiculously jealous, Turms, I could prove that to him with the aid of the goddess.”

She proved it to me in such an agonizingly rapturous manner that my joy was closer to torment than ever before, and I knew that I loved her no matter what she had done just because she was what she was and could be nothing else. Throwing her arms violently over her head, she breathed hotly into my mouth, stared at me through narrowed eyes and whispered, “Turms, Turms, in love-making you are like a god and there is no more wonderful man than you!”

She raised herself lazily onto her elbow and began to caress my. neck. “If I understood you correctly, that Xenodotos would take you safely to the court of the Persian king. We would see the big cities of the world and you would receive royal gifts in the name of the Siccani. I’m sure that I could win many friends for you among the eyes and ears of the King. Why then have you chosen barbaric Rome of which you know nothing?”

“Only a moment ago you said that you would be content with any city if only I took you away from here. Your appetite seems to grow as you eat, Arsinoe.”

She wound her arms around me, widened her eyes and breathed, “Yes, Turms, my appetite grows as you well know, or have you already tired of me?”

I did not resist although I realized with painful clarity that she tempted me only to bend me to her will. When she again began to talk of Susa and Persepolis I rose to stretch my limbs and went to the entrance of the cave.

“Hiuls!” I called. “Hiuls!”

The boy crawled to me like a Siccanian, rose upright against my knee and looked at me admiringly. In the bright sunlight I studied the muscular limbs of the five-year-old, his morose lower lip, his brows and eyes. Nor did I have to see the birthmark of the Heraklidae on his thigh to know that it had not been etched there after birth. Dorieus’ melancholy eyes looked at me out of his eyes, and in his chin, mouth and brows I saw Dorieus’ merciless face.

I did not hate the boy because of it, for how could I have hated a child? Nor did I hate Arsinoe, because she was what she was and could not help it. I hated only my own stupidity for not realizing the truth earlier. Even Tanakil had been shrewder than I and the Siccanians in their secret wisdom had immediately named the boy Erkle when they met him by the sacred rock. But love blinds a person even to what may be as clear as day. I wondered whether my love for Arsinoe was beginning to fade despite my bittersweet enjoyment of her, or whether I had merely outgrown the period of blindness.

I was quite calm as I entered the cave with the boy. I sat down beside Arsinoe and when she again began to chatter about the glories of Susa and the King’s favors, I drew the boy to me.

Holding him between my knees and patting his coarse hair I said with assumed indifference, “So Hiuls is Dorieus’ son. That is why Dorieus wanted to kill me, to obtain you and him.”

Arsinoe continued her own thoughts and had time to say that Susa would be best even for the boy before she comprehended my words. She sat up in alarm, covering her mouth.

I gave a short laugh. “That is why it was so easy for you to swear by our son. I should have believed your hair instead of your lying tongue.”

Arsinoe was amazed by my lack of anger. What would I have gained by poisoning myself with hatred when it would have been to no avail?

She pulled the boy into her lap protectively. “Why are you always so cruel, Turms? You always begin to pry into old matters during our moments of happiness. Of course Hiuls is Dorieus’ son although I myself wasn’t quite sure of it until I saw Dorieus’ birthmark on his thigh. I was terribly afraid that you would be angry. I would have told you earlier but I was sure that you would notice it yourself in time. As a woman I am sometimes compelled to lie to you because of your hot temper.”

I wondered which of us really was quicker to anger but said nothing. Taking out my worn knife I gave it to the boy.

“You may have a knife because even as a boy you must be a man and worthy of your birth. I have taught you all that you can comprehend at this age and will leave you my own shield and sword since I once tossed your father’s shield into the sea as an offering in a moment of danger. Always remember that the blood of Herakles and the goddess of Eryx flows in your veins and that you are therefore of divine birth. I don’t doubt that after our departure the Siccanians will ask the Pythagorean to educate you to your prospective rank, for I’m sure they expect much of you.”

Arsinoe began to shriek. “Are you out of your mind? Do you intend to leave your only son among barbarians?”

She tore at my hair and hammered at my back with her fists as I went to a corner of the cave and from under a stone slab pulled forth the shield that I had hidden there. The boy was at first alarmed by her screams but soon began to play with the metallic shield and sword. One had only to see him clutch the sword hilt in his tiny fist to realize that he was Dorieus’ son.

Realizing that nothing could shake me, Arsinoe sank onto the ground and began to weep bitterly. Her tears were not false, for she loved the boy more intensely than a she-wolf its cub. Touched by her sorrow, I sat beside her and began quietly to caress her black hair.

“Arsinoe, I am not leaving the boy here because of hatred or a desire for revenge. If I could, I would gladly take him with us for the sake of the friendship that bound Dorieus and me. I don’t bear a grudge against Dorieus because you are as you are and he could do nothing. What man could resist you?”

Vanity prompted her to listen to me. “This is Hiul’s place,” I said, “because he is the son of Dorieus and thus the heir to the land of Eryx. The Siccanians have always called him Erkle and have smiled every time they have looked at him. Indeed I don’t think they would permit us to take the boy away but would rather kill us. Nothing, however, hinders you from remaining with your son if you wish.”

“No, no,” she said hastily. “I wouldn’t remain in the forest at any price.”

To assuage her sorrow I talked to her encouragingly. “I will mention Hiuls to Xenodotos. Through him the Persians will learn that a future king, a descendant of Herakles, is growing up in the Siccanian forest. Perhaps your son will some day rule not only the forest and the land of Eryx but all Sicily under the protection of the Persian king. I shall see to that, for the Great King will soon rule the entire known world, perhaps during our lifetime.”

Arsinoe’s eyes began to gleam at the thought and she clapped her hands. “Your plan is wiser than Dorieus’. He came to Segesta as a stranger and no one there loved him except Tanakil.”

“Now that we are in agreement thus far,” I said with a heavy heart, “let us talk also about Misme. I remember how sarcastically you smiled when I gave her that name. Was it because of the fact that Misme and Mikon are a bit alike? Something already then must have told me the truth and made me give the girl a name that is suggestive of Mikon.”

Arsinoe pretended amazement but I seized her wrists, shook her and declared, “The time for lies is past. Misme is Mikon’s daughter. You slept with him on the journey from Eryx to Himera and it was because of you that he began to drink. You played with him as a cat plays with a mouse, to feel your power, and finally became pregnant by him. That was too much for him. He drank the Siccanians’ poisonous potion and drowned himself in the swamp because he could no longer meet my eyes. That is the truth, isn’t it? Or shall I call Misme and show you Mikon’s round cheeks and full mouth?”

Arsinoe beat her knees with her fists and shouted angrily, “At least she has my eyes! The goddess was spiteful to let the poor girl inherit Mikon’s short stature, but perhaps her limbs will yet straighten. Let it be as you wish, Turms, but it is all your fault for leaving me alone for days at a time. Poor Mikon loved me so bitterly that I could not help pitying him now and then, although I certainly didn’t intend to become pregnant. Even that is your fault for taking me away from Segesta so quickly that my silver ring remained behind.”

Noticing my calmness, she began to chatter in relief. “Mikon boasted so often of his experiences on the golden ship of Astarte that I was tempted to show him what else a man can experience in a woman’s arms. He believed himself irresistible because Aura lost consciousness at his touch, but that was just her weakness. He could not compete with you in that respect, Turms, although he had his pleasing features.”

“I don’t doubt that!” I shouted, finally losing my temper. “I understand and forgive everything, but what is wrong with me? Am I sterile or does someone else always manage to dabble in the spring at full moon ahead of me?”

Arsinoe thought for a moment. “I think you really must be sterile but don’t let it trouble you. A man who is given to meditation doesn’t need children and in our times many a man might envy you for having everything without assuming responsibility for the consequences. Perhaps it resulted from the thunderbolt of which you have told me, or perhaps you were ill as a child. Or it might be a gift of the goddess, since she has always favored pleasure and only with reluctance has submitted to its consequences.”

I would not have believed it possible that I could discuss such difficult matters with Arsinoe so understandingly and without the desire for revenge. It proved how much I had grown during my years with the Siccani without even realizing it. For once a dish is broken, anger is of no use. Instead, it is best to collect the pieces and make of them what one can.

But when I had confirmed the fact that Misme was not my child either, I felt myself naked and so cold that nothing could warm me. As a man I had to provide my own purpose in life, and probably nothing is more difficult. It is easier to beget children and to thrust the responsibility on them while washing one’s own hands.

I felt myself so naked that I retired to the solitude of the mountain for a few days. I did so not to see signs and omens but merely to listen to myself. Doubt swept over me and I no longer believed in my power to summon the wind. Everything was but blind chance. It was for Dorieus that the earth had trembled and the mountain spat fire when we had approached the Sicilian shore. Again it had rumbled at the moment of his death. He had even begotten a son. I alone was vagrant without knowing whence I had come or where I was going or why. I was sterile as a stone and my love brought suffering radier than joy.