7.
I was free to leave, but Dorieus had not yet received his answer from the Delphic priests. Defiantly we left the temple grounds and spent our time by the wall, carving our names into the soft stone. There on the ground, bare, lay the natural rocks which had been worshiped as the sacred rocks of the underworld deities a thousand years before the coming of Apollo to Delphi.
Dorieus lashed at the rocks impatiently with a willow switch. “I have been trained for war and for life with my own kind. Solitude and idleness merely breed foolish thoughts. I begin to doubt the oracle and her withered priests. After all, my problem is political, not divine, and as such can be better solved with the sword than by chewing on bay leaves.”
“Let me be your oracle,” I suggested. “We are living in a period of upheaval. Go east with me, across the sea to lonia, where they have danced the dance of freedom. Persian reprisals threaten the insurgent cities. A trained soldier would be welcome there and might win much booty and even rise to be commander.”
He said reluctantly, “We men of Sparta do not love the sea, nor do we interfere in matters beyond the sea.”
“You are a free man,” I insisted, “and no longer bound by the prejudices of your people. The sea is glorious even when it surges with foam, and the cities of lonia are beautiful, neither too cold in the winter nor too hot in the summer. Be my companion and go east with me.”
At that he suggested, “Let us each toss a sheep’s bones to indicate the direction that we must follow.”
By the rocks of the underground gods we tossed the sheep’s bones three times each before we believed them. Each time they clearly pointed westward, away from lonia.
“There is something wrong with them,” said Dorieus in disgust. “They are not prophetic.”
His words unconsciously revealed his desire to join me in the war against the Persians. With feigned reluctance I therefore said, “I myself have seen a replica of Hecataeus’ map of the world. Undoubtedly the Great King is a formidable opponent, for he rules a thousand nations from Egypt to India.”
“The stronger the opponent the more honorable the battle,” retorted Dorieus.
“I have nothing to fear,” I observed. “How could human weapons harm me when a thunderbolt failed to do so? I believe myself to be invulnerable. But it is different with you, so I will no longer try to persuade you to join me in an uncertain venture. The bones point west. Believe them.”
“Why don’t you go west with me?” he asked. “As you said, I am free, but my freedom is bleak unless I have a companion with whom to share it.”
“Both the bones and the priests indicated the west, but it is precisely because of that that I shall go east. I must prove to myself that omens and divine warnings cannot prevent my doing what I will.”
Dorieus laughed. “You are contradicting yourself.”
“You don’t understand,” I said. “I want to prove to myself that I cannot escape my fate.”
At that moment the temple servants came for Dorieus. He rose from the rock, his face alight, and ran toward the temple. I waited for him by the large sacrificial altar.
When he returned his head was bowed. “The Pythia has spoken and the priests have studied the omens. Sparta is threatened by a curse should I ever return. Therefore I must sail beyond the sea. They recommend that I go west, where any tyrant of a wealthy city would be happy to take me into his service. My grave will lie in the west, they said, and there too I will find undying fame.”
“Hence we shall sail east.” I smiled. “You are still young. Why should you unnecessarily hasten to your grave?”
On that very day we left for the coast, only to find that the sea was stormy and that the ships had ceased to sail. And so we undertook the journey by land, spending our nights in deserted shepherds’ shelters. After we had passed Megara we had to decide how best to reach lonia. I had friends in Athens among those who had participated in the expedition to Sardis, but because a conservative faction had gained power there the friends might not wish to be reminded of their past.
Corinth, on the other hand, was the most hospitable of Greek cities. From its two harbors ships sailed both east and west and even Phoenician vessels put in there freely. I had also heard that strangers were not shunned there.
“Let us go to Corinth,” I suggested. “There we will hear the freshest news from lonia and will be able to sail in the spring at the latest.”
Dorieus became glum. ‘‘We are friends, and as an Ionian you are more familiar with travel and cities than I. But as a Spartan I cannot follow another’s advice without protest.”
“Then let us toss the sheep’s bones once more.”
I drew the cardinal points on the sand according to the sun and indicated the positions of Athens and Corinth as well as I could. Dorieus tossed the bones and they indisputably pointed west.
Morosely he said, “Let us go to Corinth. But this is my decision and not yours.”
Because his will was stronger than mine, I confessed, “I am pampered by Ionian customs. My mind has been spoiled by the teachings of a sage who despised people. Whatever increases knowledge consumes the will. Hence let us obey your will and journey to Corinth.”
His face brightened, he smiled, ran and threw his javelin as far as he could in the direction of Corinth. But when we reached it we saw that it had struck a rotted piece of ship’s rail that had been washed up by the sea. We both felt the omen to be unfavorable although we said nothing and avoided each other’s eyes. Dorieus pulled loose the javelin and we set off in the direction of Corinth without a backward glance.
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