by Mika Waltari
“You can stand no more!” I cried in amazement.
“Precisely. Even the patience of a woman in love has its limits. During these days in Himera I have all too clearly realized that I cannot please you, try as I may. Ah, Turms, how could this have happened to us!”
She flung herself onto the bed, buried her face in her arms and began to weep. Each sob wrenched my heart so that at length I began to wonder whether I was not, after all, the cause of all her misdeeds. Then, remembering Dorieus’ averted gaze and Mikon’s guilty face, I forgot Dionysius. The blood rushed to my head and I raised my hand to strike her. But the hand remained aloft, for I suddenly noticed the tempting helplessness of her beautiful body as it quivered under the sheer fabric. The natural result was that, with her arms around my neck, I again experienced one of those moments when all else faded and I seemed to be resting on a cloud with Arsinoe.
Soon she roused herself and touched my damp forehead with cool fingers. “Why are you always so cruel to me, Turms, when I love you so madly?”
Nor did her face belie her words. She spoke in all sincerity. “How can you say that?” I reproached her. “Aren’t you ashamed to look at me with those clear eyes when I have just learned that you have been deceiving me with my two best friends.”
“That is not so,” she protested, but her glance evaded mine.
“If you really loved me-” I began and could go no farther, for anger and humiliation throttled the words.
Arsinoe grew serious and in an entirely different tone continued, “I am a vacillating person, I know. After all, I am a woman. Perhaps you cannot always be sure of me for I am not always sure of myself. The one thing of which you may be certain, now and forever, is that I love you and only you. Would I otherwise have abandoned my old life?”
She spoke with such sincerity that I felt her words to be true. My bitterness faded into regret. “Mikon’s words revealed-”
She pressed her soft palm against my lips. “Don’t go on. I admit it, but it was not to my liking. It was only for your sake that I consented, Turms. You yourself said that your life was in danger if it came out too soon that I was not Aura.”
“But Mikon said-” I began again.
“Of course,” she admitted. “But you must realize that a woman’s pride in such matters must also be considered. When I was compelled to yield for your sake I could not behave like a lowly Siculian girl.”
“Silence!” I begged. “How dare you boast? But what of Dorieus?”
“Naturally I talked to him,” Arsinoe conceded, “after Tanakil told me of his plans. He is a handsome man and would tempt any woman.
Perhaps he misinterpreted my interest, and it is not my fault that I am beautiful.”
“He, too!” I groaned and reached for my sword.
Arsinoe calmed me. “Nothing has happened. I explained to Dorieus that it could not. He asked my forgiveness and we agreed to be merely friends.” She stared into the distance thoughtfully. “You see, Turms, I may be of assistance to him in his political plans. He is not so stupid as to antagonize one who can help him.”
Hope and doubt struggled within me. “Do you swear that Dorieus has not touched you?”
“Touched me-touched me-stop repeating that! Perhaps he has touched me a little. But he does not tempt me as a man, that I will swear by any god’s name you wish.”
“Do you swear it by our love?”
“By our love,” she repeated after only a moment’s hesitation.
But I saw the doubt in her eyes and rose. “Good. I shall find out for myself.”
“Don’t!” she pleaded in alarm, then shrugged. “Or go if you wish, since you don’t believe me. It is best so. But I would not have expected such treatment from you, Turms.”
Her tearful, accusing eyes haunted me, but I had to learn the truth from Dorieus’ own lips. Only then would I be free of doubts. How-childish I was! As though my heart could ever be at peace for a single moment with Arsinoe.
I found Dorieus in the garden, lolling in the warm pool. The yellowish water smelled of sulphur and his strong body gleamed larger than life through it. To calm my mind I sat on the edge of the pool, dangling my feet in it.
“Dorieus,” I began, “remember the stadium at Delphi. Remember the sheep’s bones we tossed to divine the direction of our travels. Remember Corinth and the war in lonia. Surely our friendship is above all else. I will not be angry if you but tell the truth. In the name of our friendship, have you lain with Arsinoe?”
His glance wavered. Finally he said, “Well, once or twice. I meant no harm. Her enticements are irresistible.”
Dorieus’ honest confession proved him to be as childish as I in such matters although I did not realize it at the time. Cold shivers sped up my back. “Did you compel her to submit?”
“I, compel?” Dorieus stared at me in wonder. “In the name of Herakles, little do you know her! Haven’t I already explained that I could not withstand her?” Thus launched on his tale he was anxious to unburden himself. “Don’t tell Tanakil, I pray you. I would not want her to worry. You see, it was Arsinoe who started it all by admiring my muscles. She said that you were not much of a man compared to me.”
“Did she really?” I said in a hoarse voice.
“Yes. It seems that Tanakil had so boasted of my strength that Arsinoe grew envious. You yourself know what happens when she strokes a man’s loins a few times. In all honesty I could not think of friendship, honor or anything else. Shall I continue?”
“No. I understand.” But I did not. “Dorieus, why did she claim that you do not attract her?”
He burst into laughter and began flexing his muscles in the water. “Don’t I? Perhaps she said so out of pity, but you should have been there to see and hear for yourself.”
I rose so suddenly that I almost toppled into the pool. “So be it, Dorieus. I do not hate you for it nor will I brood over the matter. But don’t ever do it again.”
Eyes brimming with hot tears, I fled into the house. I knew then that I could no longer trust anyone, least of all Arsinoe. This bitter truth must come to each one of us sooner or later. It is as inescapable a part of life as ashen bread or a cold. Then a feeling of relief swept over me as I knew that I was under no obligation to Dorieus. Our friendship no longer bound me to him since he himself had violated that friendship.
When I returned to our room Arsinoe raised herself eagerly from the couch. “Well, Turms, have you spoken to Dorieus and are you not ashamed of your cruel suspicions?”
“How brazen can you be, Arsinoe? Dorieus confessed.”
“Confessed what?” she demanded.
“To having lain with you, as you well know.” I sank onto the couch in despair. “Why did you lie and falsely swear by our love? Never again will I be able to trust you, Arsinoe.”
She wound her arms around my neck. “But, Turms, what nonsense is this? Dorieus could not have confessed. Do you think that Spartan is trying to alienate us by sowing seeds of doubt in your mind? I can think of no other reason.”
Reluctantly I looked at her with hungry, hopeful eyes. She read my longing to believe, and hastened to explain. “Now I understand, Turms. Naturally I wounded his masculine pride in rejecting his advances and, knowing how credulous you are, he is retaliating by speaking falsely of me.”
“Don’t, Arsinoe,” I pleaded. “I am already heartsick unto death. Dorieus did not lie, for I know him better than you.”
She took my head between her palms. For a moment she studied me, then thrust me aside. “So be it. I no longer have the strength to fight for our love. All is at an end, Turms. Farewell. Tomorrow I shall return to Eryx.”
What could I have said? What could I have done but fling myself on the floor and beg forgiveness for my ugly suspicions? She was in my blood and I could not lose her. Again we climbed a dazzling cloud, and viewed from there everything on earth seemed insignificant, even lies and deception.
3.
The sailing season was upon us and
, after a winter of laboring to raise Himera’s walls, the men of Phocaea were restless, sniffing the winds and studying the heavenly portents. Dionysius had launched a new ship and both the penteconters had been caulked and tarred tighter than ever. There was not an oar, a rope or a knothole that Dionysius had not inspected with his own eyes. In the evening the sailors were already sharpening their light weapons and the marines, grown fat over the winter, were struggling to don their breastplates and cuirasses of bronze scales and piercing new holes in their straps. The oarsmen were singing rowdy songs of farewell, while the men who had married Himeran women in the autumn were beginning to wonder whether it would, after all, be wise to subject a frail woman to the dangers of the sea. And so the women, despite their tears and pleading, were to remain behind in Himera.
But Krinippos decreed that every wedded man must provide his wife with funds in accordance with his position on the ship, thirty drachmas for an oar and one hundred drachmas for a sword. In addition, every Himeran woman, whether single or wedded, who had become pregnant during the winter was to receive ten silver drachmas from Dionysius’ treasure.
Enraged by such extortionate demands, the sailors gathered in the market place to scream that Krinippos was the most thankless tyrant and the greediest human they had ever known.
“Are we the only men in Himera?” they wailed. “After all, your own symbol is the cock, and it is not our fault if we were contaminated by your city’s whoredom. All winter we have labored like slaves for you, and by night were so exhausted that we could only fall into bed. It is surely not our fault if the city’s maidens-yes, and matrons too- crept in beside us.”
But Krinippos was merciless. “The law is the law, and my word is the law in Himera. But willingly I grant you permission to take your wives with you and also those maidens whom you have made pregnant. The choice is yours.”
During the confusion Dionysius stood apart and made no attempt to defend his men. He still had to obtain water and supplies for the ships and above all the treasure from Krinippos’ stone vaults. As the men stormed about the market place, tearing their clothes in rage, he studied each shrewdly.
Suddenly he clutched the arm of the noisiest rower. “What is that mark on your back?”
The man glanced over his shoulder and explained eagerly, “It is a holy mark that will protect me in battle and cost only one drachma.”
A group of men clustered around Dionysius, each anxious to show his own holy crescent. Angrily Dionysius asked, “How many of you have such a mark and who made them?”
More than half the men had hastened to obtain the charm and the wounds had not yet healed, for the seer had but recently arrived in Himera. With a sharp knife he had shaped the crescent on the edge of the left shoulder blade, painted it with holy indigo, covered it with holy ashes and finally spat holy spittle on it.
“Bring forth the seer that I may study his own shoulder blade,” commanded Dionysius. But the seer who but a few minutes earlier had been drawing holy symbols on his tablet in a corner of the market place had suddenly disappeared, nor could he be found anywhere in the city.
That evening Dionysius came to see us with the chief helmsman of his large ship. “We are in grave danger because of that blue mark,” he said. “Krinippos will come here tonight to discuss the matter. Let us say nothing of our own affairs and merely listen to him.”
Dorieus explained eagerly, “My plans are now ready. I am glad that you, Dionysius, have decided to join forces with me so that we no longer have to compete for leadership.”
Dionysius sighed patiently. “That is so. But do not breathe a word about Segesta in Krinippos’ presence or he will not permit us to sail. Can’t we agree that I will have command at sea and you on land?”
“That may be best,” conceded Dorieus after a moment. “But when we go ashore we will have no further use for the ships, so I will have them burned.”
Dionysius nodded but with averted head. Mikon asked curiously, “Why are we so concerned about that blue mark and a charlatan who earns his living by deceiving susceptible sailors?”
Dionysius sent the helmsman to watch that no women crept behind the drapes to listen, then explained, “A Carthaginian ship has been sighted outside Himera. Presumably it is a courier ship whose task is to inform the Carthaginian fleet of our departure.”
“But Himera is not at war with the Phoenicians,” I protested. “On the contrary, Krinippos is a friend of Carthage. What has that to do with the seer or the mark?”
Dionysius touched the lower edge of my left shoulder blade with his thick forefinger and smiled a twisted smile. “Just there is the spot where the Carthaginian sacrificial priest begins skinning a pirate alive. The head, hands and feet he leaves untouched so that the victim may live for days. That is how Carthage punishes piracy.
“Yes,” he continued, “we have been discovered. The Carthaginians know that our loot is not from the battle at Lade, and for that reason we are no longer safe anywhere at sea. They have probably told their allies the Etruscans about us, too, although that does not matter much since we already know that they will not allow us to sail through their sea.”
Mikon, who had been drinking wine since morning, began to tremble. “I am not a coward,” he said, “but I am weary of the sea and with your permission, Dionysius, I shall remain behind in Himera.”
Dionysius roared with laughter and clapped him on the shoulder. “Stay if you wish. Nothing worse will happen than that some day Krinippos will be compelled to surrender you to the Phoenicians who will nail your skin to the sea gate at Carthage. Their spy has most certainly memorized our faces as well as those of our ablest helmsmen, for the Phoenicians are not thinking only of today but ten years hence in the event that we succeed in reaching Massilia.”
“But we are not sailing for Massilia,” interrupted Dorieus.
“Naturally not,” agreed Dionysius readily. “They merely think so because such a rumor has circulated. It is for that reason that they have marked even the lowliest of our sailors, so that they may recognize us anywhere and under whatever circumstances.” He laughed at our horrified expressions. “A man who thrusts his fist into a bee’s nest for honey knows what he is doing. You well knew what faced you when you joined our forces.”
That was not strictly true, but we had no desire to argue the matter. In the eyes of the Phoenicians, at least, we were bound skin and hair to him.
At that moment the helmsman appeared at the doorway wringing his hands and saying that the lady of the house and her friend sought entrance. Arsinoe brushed by him, holding in her arms a glossy-coated animal which she thrust toward me.
“See what I have bought, Turms!”
I looked at the spitting, gleaming-eyed animal and recognized it as a cat. The Egyptians consider it holy but one rarely encounters it in other lands. I had, however, seen one in Miletus, where women of the nobility kept cats in their homes, although they should have known better.
“It is a cat!” I cried. “Put down that dangerous animal instantly. Don’t you know that it conceals sharp claws in those soft paws?” I was shocked, not the least because I knew that cats are expensive and I never was quite sure how Arsinoe obtained the money for her purchases.
She laughed merrily. “Turms, don’t be unkind. Take it in your lap and pat it. You will find it enchanting.” She tossed the cat at me, whereupon it dug its claws into my chest, climbed onto my head, and from there leaped onto the shoulder of the Phoenician household god.
“All my life I have yearned for such an enchanting animal,” prattled Arsinoe. “Believe me, it is entirely tame. It was you who frightened it, Turms, with your cry of alarm. Think of its softness as it lies in bed guarding my sleep, with eyes glowing in the darkness like protecting lanterns. You cannot deny me that great joy.”
Feeling the pitying glances of the three men I flushed and protested, “I did not cry out nor do I fear the creature. But it is a useless animal and we cannot take it on board the ship when we sh
ortly put to sea.”
“Say rather to Hades,” observed Dionysius sarcastically. “Well, Turms, I did not think that you would prove to be the most loose-tongued of us all.”
“But the entire city already knows that you are about to sail,” said Arsinoe innocently. “The council of Carthage demands that Krinippos either detain or deport you. Even the merchant who sold me this beautiful animal knew that and for that reason sold it to me cheaply, so that it would bring us luck at sea.”
Dionysius raised his arms. “May the gods have mercy on us!” he prayed.
“It is obviously a Phoenician scheme,” I said. “They have thrust the cat on Arsinoe so that it will bring us misfortune. The merchant must have been a Phoenician.”
Arsinoe hugged the cat to her. “On the contrary, he was Etruscan and a friend of yours, Turms. His name is Lars Alsir. That is why he gave me the cat on credit.”
That relieved my mind, for Lars Alsir would hardly wish me ill. Dionysius burst into laughter, extended a hand cautiously toward the cat and began rubbing its chin with a heavy forefinger.
Arsinoe looked at him gratefully. “You understand me best of all, Dionysius,” she murmured. “Isn’t Turms childish not to see what takes place before his very nose? No Phoenician merchant could have sold me anything because they have all discontinued trading and have hired men armed with battle-axes to stand guard over their shops. Moreover, they have. forbidden all other merchants to trade with us under threat of banning all Carthaginian goods in the future. That I think is silly, for the task of a merchant is to trade and not to prevent trade.”
Still absently scratching the cat, Dionysius called his helmsman and ordered, “Go immediately and arouse the priests of Poseidon and have them sacrifice ten bulls for us, cost what it may. If necessary have some trustworthy resident purchase them in his own name. The thighbones and fat may remain at the altar, but the meat must be stored in the vessels tonight.” He turned back to Arsinoe. “I apologize for interrupting you, but watching you and the cat I was suddenly overcome by an irresistible desire to sacrifice ten bulls to Poseidon.”
