by Mika Waltari
I remembered Aura and no longer felt like jesting. “Show me your face,” I asked again, “that I may know you.”
“As you wish,” she said. “But remember that the goddess has no face of her own.” She took the shining wreath from her head and removed the veil. Lifting her face to the light she cried out, “Turms, Turms, don’t you remember me?”
Shaken to the bottom of my heart I recognized the merry voice, die laughing eyes and the round youthful chin.
“Dione!” I exclaimed. “How have you come here?” For a moment I actually thought that Dione had fled westward to escape the Persians threatening lonia, and that some miraculous whim of fate had led her to the temple of Aphrodite of Eryx. Then I realized that unreturnable years had passed since Dione had tossed me the apple. She could no longer be the same young girl nor was I the same dazzled youth.
The woman covered her face with the veil and said, “So you recognized me, Turms.”
I replied petulantly, “The shadows and the flickering light of the lamp blurred my eyes. I thought I recognized in you a girl whom I knew in my youth in Ephesus. But you are not she. You are not a young girl.”
“The goddess has no age. She is ageless and timeless, and her face changes with the beholder. What do you want of me?”
“If you were the goddess,” I said in disappointment, “you would know without my saying why I came here.”
She swung the shining wreath in her hand so that my eyes were compelled to follow it. Holding the veil over her face with her other hand she urged, “Lie down again. You are drowsy. Rest.”
Lightly she stepped to the foot of the couch, still swinging the wreath. My alertness disappeared and a feeling of drowsy security came over me.
Suddenly she straightened, revealed her face and demanded, “Turms, where are you?”
Her face grew black and shiny before my eyes, her mantle was ornamented with the breasts of Amazons, the moon was her headdress, and lions lay at her feet. I felt the sacred woolen bonds of Artemis binding my limbs. Artemis herself stood before me, no longer a statue toppled from the sky, but alive and threatening and with a merciless smile on her face.
“Where are you?” repeated the voice.
With a tremendous effort I could move my tongue. “Artemis, Artemis!” I cried. -
A merciful hand was laid over my eyes, my whole body sighed and I was freed of the oppression. The moon no longer had me in its power.
“I will liberate you from the hold of the strange goddess if you wish and promise to serve only me. Reject the melancholy of the moon and I will give you joy and sunshine.”
I whispered, or at least think I did, “You foam-born, I consecrated myself to you long before Artemis had me in her power. Never again forsake me.”
I heard a roaring in my ears, the couch swayed beneath me and a voice repeated over and over again, “Where are you, Turms? Awaken. Open your eyes.”
I opened my eyes and said in amazement, “I see a lovely valley above which rise snowcapped mountains. I smell the fragrance of herbs, and the slope of the valley is warm to lie upon. I have never seen a more beautiful valley, but I am alone. I see no houses, no path, not a single person.”
From a vast distance I heard a voice whisper, “Return, Turms. Come back. Where are you?”
Once again I opened my eyes. It was night and I stood in a strange room. With a catch of my breath I recognized Kydippe lying in bed. She was sleeping with her lips parted, and she sighed as she slept. Suddenly she awakened, saw me and attempted to cover her nakedness. But upon recognizing my face she began to smile and her hand paused. I ran to her and embraced her. She started to scream, then relaxed in my arms and let me do as I wished. But her girl’s lips were cold under my mouth, her heart did not pound against my own, and when I released her and she covered her eyes in shame I knew that I had nothing in common with her.
A groan of disappointment escaped me, and when I opened my eyes again I was lying on the couch in the temple of Aphrodite of Eryx with my arms stiffly upraised. On the edge of the couch sat that strange woman who had talked to me and who was trying to hold my arms down.
“What has happened, Turms?” she asked and bowed her head to look at my face in the lamplight.
I saw that she had removed the stiffly-embroidered robe, the necklace and the armbands. They lay on the floor, as did the veil and the wreath. She was wearing only a thin shift and her fair hair was combed to the top of her head. The shape of her high, thin brows made her eyes appear slanting. As she leaned toward me I knew that I had never before seen her, yet I felt that she was familiar.
My arms slackened and fell to my sides. My limbs were exhausted as after hard labor. She touched my brows, chest and mouth with her fingertips and absently began to draw a, circle on my bare chest. Her face suddenly paled and I noticed to my surprise that she was weeping.
Frightened, I asked, “What has happened?”
“Nothing,” she snapped and abruptly withdrew her hand.
“Why are you weeping?”
She shook her head so sharply that a tear dropped onto my chest. “I am not weeping.” Then she slapped my cheek and demanded angrily, “Who is that Kydippe whose name you repeated so ecstatically?”
“Kydippe? It was because of her that I came here. She is the granddaughter of the tyrant of Himera. But I no longer have any desire for her. I took what I wanted and the goddess freed me of her.”
“That is good,” she said capriciously. “That is very good. Why don’t you go your way if you got what you wanted?” She raised her hand as though to strike me once more, but I caught her wrist. It was narrow and beautiful in my hand.
“Why do you strike me?” I asked. “I have not harmed you.”
“Haven’t you! No man has hurt me as you have. Why don’t you leave and never return to Eryx?”
“I can’t, for you are sitting on me. Besides, you are clutching my robe.”
She had in truth wrapped a corner of my robe around her knees as though she were cold.
“Who are you?” I asked, touching her white neck.
She started and cried out, “Don’t touch me! I hate those hands of yours!”
When I tried to rise she pushed me back, bent over me and hotly kissed my mouth. She did it so unexpectedly that I did not realize what had happened until she had straightened again and was sitting on the edge of the couch with chin haughtily upraised.
I caught her hand. “Let us talk sensibly like human beings, for you are a human and my kind. What has happened? Why have you wept and struck me?”
She curled her hand into a fist but permitted me to hold it. “It was useless for you to come here for aid, for you know more about the goddess than 1.1 am but the body in which the goddess manifests herself, but your power has entered into me and I can do nothing. I don’t understand what has happened. I should have taken my clothes and left, and upon awakening you would have considered your vision the answer to your problem. I don’t know why I remained here. Tell me, are you really awake?”
I felt my head and body. “I think so. Yet a moment ago I could have sworn that I also was awake. I have never experienced anything like this.”
“Probably not. And I suppose that women have never cared for you since you have to seek the goddess’s aid.”
Holding her little fist in my hand I stared at her. “Your lips arc beautiful. I know the curve of your brows and also your eyes and cheeks. Are you one of the returned? I seem to recognize you.”
“The returned?” she asked. “I don’t know what you mean.”
I wound my arm around her shoulders and drew her to me. Her body was stiff but she did not resist.
“Your arms are cold,” I said. “Permit me to warm you with my body. Or is it already morning?”
She glanced at the sky through the opening. “Not yet. But why are you still interested in me? Why should you warm me with your body? You have already had what you wanted.” Suddenly she buried her face in my neck and began to w
eep bitterly. “Don’t be angry with me if I am troublesome. The dark of the moon always makes me capricious. Usually I do humbly what is requested, but you make me obstinate.”
Through the thin cloth I felt the softness of her limbs and shivers passed over my body. I seemed to be standing hesitantly on a threshold over which there would be no return once I passed it.
“Tell me your name,” I pleaded, “so that I may know you and talk to you.”
She shook her head stubbornly. Her hair escaped the combs and tumbled onto my chest. As she pressed her face against my neck she-embraced me with both arms.
“If you knew my name you would have me in your power. Don’t you understand?-I belong to the goddess. I cannot and must not be-dominated by any man.”
“You cannot escape me,” I told her. “In starting a new life a person chooses a new name. At this very moment I am giving you a new name.. It will be yours and through it I will hold you-Arsinoe.”
“Arsinoe,” she repeated slowly. “How did you invent that? Have. you known an Arsinoe?”
“Never,” I assured her. “The name just came to my mind. It came: from somewhere or was in me, for a person does not invent names by himself.”
“Arsinoe,” she said again, as though savoring the name. “What if I don’t accept the name you have given me? What right have you to. re-name me?”
“Arsinoe,” I whispered, “when I warm you like this in my lap and. wrap the woolen mantle of the goddess around you, you are the most familiar of all persons to me although I don’t know you.” I thought for a moment. “You are not a Greek, that I can hear from your speech. Nor can you be a Phoenician for your face is not copper-colored. You are, white as foam. Could you be a descendant of Trojan refugees?”
“Why concern yourself with my nationality? The goddess does not distinguish between nationalities or clans, languages or colors of skin.. She chooses people at random, makes the fair still fairer and beautifies even the ugly. But tell me, Turms, do you now see my face as it really is?”
She turned to me and I studied her. “Never have I seen a face as vivid and changing as yours, Arsinoe. Your every thought is reflected in it. Now I understand that the goddess gives you an infinite number of faces and each man sleeping the sleep of the goddess thinks that he, sees in you the face of someone he loves or has loved. But when you, lean against me thus as a human I believe that I do see your real face.”
Drawing back she touched the corners of my eyes and mouth and. pleaded, “Turms, swear that you are only a human.”
“In the name of the goddess I swear that I experience hunger and thirst, exhaustion and sleep, lust and longing like a human. But what I am I cannot say for I myself do not know. Will you swear that you will not suddenly disappear from my lap or change your face? To me: it is the most beautiful face I have ever seen.”
She spoke the oath and then said, “At times the goddess appears in. me and I no longer know myself. At other times again my task feels tedious and I know that I am only deceiving the people who in their dream think that I am the goddess. Turms, sometimes I don’t even believe in the goddess but crave to be free to lead the life of an ordinary human. Now my only world is the mountain of Eryx, and the goddess’s fountain will be my grave when I am worn out and another steps into my place to serve the goddess.”
She touched the clothes on the floor with her foot, shook her head and said, “It is shocking that I speak like this to you, a stranger. Tell me, have you the power to bewitch people, since I did not leave in time?”
But an odd thought had begun to perplex me. “In my dream, if it was merely a dream, I was in Himera, in Kydippe’s room. I embraced her as a man embraces a woman and she permitted it to happen. I took my fill of her and knew that only my lust had blinded me and that actually I had nothing in common with her. But that which happened was real. I know it and feel it in my body. Whom, therefore, did I embrace if my body remained here and was not in Himera?”
She evaded the question and snapped angrily, “Don’t talk to me about that Kydippe. I have already heard too much about her.” Then she continued triumphantly, “At any rate, she is not for you. Her father has already received the goddess’s prophecy. Kydippe will be sent with a mule team to her wedding chamber and a rabbit will run before her. The rabbit is the emblem of Rhegion, and Rhegion rules the straits on the Italian side as Zankle rules them on the Sicilian side. Because the goddess of Eryx also fulfills political plans in the visions and prophecies I cannot always believe in her.
“In fact,” she continued, “the temple of Eryx is the marriage mart for the entire western sea. The wise ones only half believe in the goddess and instead negotiate directly with the priests for the most advantageous marriage. Many an unsuspecting man and woman has received an omen to visit Eryx and there seen his future spouse in a vision although he has not even heard of her before. The goddess can persuade the reluctant.”
“And what of me?” I asked. “Am I also the victim of someone’s calculations?”
She became serious. “Don’t misunderstand my words. The goddess is more powerful than we think, and sometimes she confuses the most careful calculations with her own will. Why else would I have been compelled to remain here and reveal myself to you?”
She touched my mouth in fear. “No, Turms, I feel alternately hot and cold when I look at your oval eyes and broad mouth. Something stronger than me binds me to you and makes my knees so weak that I cannot stoop to gather up my clothes from the floor. Something terrible must happen.” She glanced up at the opening in the roof. “The sky is growing light,” she exclaimed. “How short this night has been! I must go, never to meet you again.”
I caught her hand. “Arsinoe, don’t go yet. We must meet again, but how? Tell me what I must do.”
“You don’t know what you are saying,” she protested. “Wasn’t it enough that one woman died from your touch? There has been much talk of that in the temple. Do you want me also to die?”
At that moment we heard the flap of wings. Someone had walked in the temple courtyard and a frightened flock of doves had taken wing. Something fluttered down from the opening and fell within the circle of light at our feet. I picked up a small feather.
“The goddess has given us a sign!” I cried elatedly. “She herself is on our side. If I had not believed in her before, I do now, for this is a miracle and an omen.”
Her body quivered in my lap. “Someone moved in the courtyard,” she whispered. “But already innumerable lies are darting about in my head like lizards. Perhaps the goddess is bestowing her own ingenuity on me. Turms, why did you do this to me?”
I kissed her protesting mouth until she submitted and breathed her own passion into me.
“Turms,” she said at last with tear-filled eyes, “I am horribly afraid. Would you recognize my face if you were to see me in the light of day? Lamplight is treacherous. Perhaps I am uglier and older than you think and you would be disappointed in me.” “What of my own face?” I asked.
“You have nothing to fear, Turms,” she laughed. “You have the face of a god.”
At that moment I trembled from head to foot and in the grip of a deep ecstasy I felt myself to be more than myself. There was nothing that I could not conquer.
“Arsinoe,” I said, “You were born for me and not for the goddess, just as I was born for you. That was why I had to come to Eryx, to meet you. I am here, I am free, I am strong. Go, therefore, and do not be afraid. If we do not meet in the day we will meet at night-that I know, and no power in the world can prevent it.”
I helped her gather her clothes and jewelry from the floor. She blew out the lamp, took it with her and left the temple through a narrow door behind the goddess’s empty pedestal. I lay down on the couch, pulled the myrrh-odored woolen mantle over me, patted the embroidered doves on it and stared at the lightening sky above me.
4.
The sun was already high when I was awakened by the touch of one of the priests who had come into
the temple with a beautifully decorated drinking vessel in his hand. When I saw him I did not at first know which of my experiences had been merely a dream. But when memory returned I was rilled with such supreme joy that I laughed aloud.
“Oh, priest, the goddess has freed me of the pangs of love!” I exclaimed. “Last night I saw the girl whom I thought I loved and even embraced her, although she is far away in Himera. But she turned into a rabbit and fled from my arms and I no longer craved her.”
“Drink this,” he said, extending the cup to me. “I see from your face that you are still in a state of excitement. This drink will calm you.”
“I don’t want to be calmed,” I protested. “On the contrary, this condition is delightful and I would gladly prolong it. But you know the goddess’s secrets. Why should I conceal from you that I, an alien, hoped for the impossible and fell in love with Kydippe, the granddaughter of the tyrant of Himera? Fortunately, however, the goddess liberated me from my yearning.” As I babbled, I drank the mixture of honey and wine that he offered.
He looked at me shrewdly and frowned. “Did you really say that Kydippe turned into a rabbit and fled from you?” he asked suspiciously. “If that is so, the goddess has truly favored you, for this omen confirms other previous omens we have had about that Kydippe.”
“Kydippe,” I repeated slowly. “But yesterday that name made my whole body tremble. Now I do not care if I ever see her again.”
“What else did you see?” the priest asked curiously. “Try to remember.”
I covered my eyes with my hand and pretended to think. “I think I saw a team of mules and a chariot ornamented with silver. The mules walked through the water across the straits, but how that was possible I do not know. Only a moment ago the visions were still clear but the drink that you gave me has blurred them. No, I can no longer see or remember anything. But that is of no significance. Kydippe at least will no longer trouble my mind.”
“Undoubtedly you have some talent as a seer,” he said.
