by Mika Waltari
“Thank the wine for that,” he observed. “You are fortunate in finding relief from your oppression in drink. But what did you want of me? My name is Lars Alsir.”
I let him refill the black wine cup and confessed, “I know what I wanted of you when I came. You could serve me best by obtaining a periplus of your sea, its shores, landmarks, winds, currents and harbors, so that we might reach Massilia safely in the spring.”
“That would be a crime,” he said, “for we are not friends of the Phocaeans. Several generations ago we were compelled to engage in warfare against the Phocaeans when they attempted to gain a foothold in Sardinia and Corsica where we had mines. Even were I to give you a periplus you would not reach Massilia, for Dionysius would first have to obtain a sailing permit from both the Carthaginians and the Etruscans. And that he could not buy for all his stolen treasure.”
“Are you threatening me?” I demanded.
“Certainly not. How could I threaten you if you truly are a son of a thunderbolt, as you claim?”
“Lars Alsir-” I began.
“What is it that you wish of me, Lars Turms?” he asked with mock gravity.
“Why do you call me that? My name is Turms, true enough, but not Lars Turms.”
“I was merely showing respect. We use the word in honoring another’s birth. And because you are a Lars no harm can befall you.”
I did not understand, but explained that I had bound myself to the Phocaeans and if he could not sell me a periplus perhaps he could obtain a pilot who would consent to guide us to Massilia.
Lars Alsir traced the design on the floor without looking at me. “Carthaginian merchants guard their sailing routes so closely that any captain who discovers his ship being spied upon by Greeks would rather run his vessel aground and destroy both himself and the Greek vessel rather than reveal his route. We Etruscans are not quite so secretive, but as rulers of the sea we likewise have our traditions.”
He raised his head and looked into my eyes. “Understand me well, Lars Turms. Nothing would hinder me from selling you a falsified periplus at a high price, or giving you a pilot who would run you into a reef. But I could not do that to you because you are a Lars. Let Dionysius reap what he has sown. Let us forget this unpleasant topic and talk instead of divine matters.”
I declared with some bitterness that I could not understand why people insisted upon discussing divine matters with me after a cup of wine.
“Do I really bear the sign of a curse on my forehead?” I asked. I told him of my rescue by Artemis and declared that since then I had feared nothing. “I don’t even fear you, Lars Alsir, or your smiling gods. In fact, at this very moment I seem to be sitting near the ceiling and looking down at you,-and you are small indeed in my eyes.”
His voice sounded distant as a whisper. “Precisely, Lars Turms. You are on a round seat, leaning against its round back. But what is that you are holding in your hands?”
Extending my hands before me, palms upward, I looked at them in surprise. “I have a pomegranate in one and a cone in the other!”
Far below me in the dimness Lars Alsir, kneeling on the floor, looked up at me. “Precisely, Lars Turms. In one hand you hold the earth, in the other the sky, and you need fear no mortal. But you still don’t know our smiling gods.”
His words were like a challenge. Something in me expanded to infinity, the veil of the earth was rent and I saw a shadowy goddess. She wore a mural crown and carried an ivy leaf, but her face was invisible.
“What do you see?” Lars Alsir’s words carried to my ears from an unfathomable distance. “What do you see, son of the thunderbolt?”
I cried out, “I see her! For the first time I see her whom I have heretofore seen only in my dreams. But a veil covers her face and I cannot recognize her.”
Suddenly I plunged from my height, the veil-like world became solid and impenetrable again, and I was aware of my body. I was lying on the couch and Lars Alsir was shaking my shoulders.
“What is wrong? You suddenly went from me into a trance.”
I clutched my head with both hands, drank the wine that he offered me and then thrust the cup from me. “What poison are you giving me? I don’t become intoxicated so quickly. I thought I saw a veiled woman taller than a mortal and I was like a cloud beside her.”
“This is only innocent violet wine,” protested Lars Alsir. “But perhaps the shape of the black cup stimulated your hand. You see, the Etruscan gods follow an Etruscan wherever he may be reborn.”
“Are you claiming that I am a native Etruscan and not a Greek?”
“You may be the son of a slave or a prostitute, but you have been chosen by a divine thunderbolt. But let me advise you. Do not reveal your identity or boast about your birth if you ever find yourself in our land, as I think you will. You will be recognized in time. You yourself must wander blindfold and allow the gods to lead you. More than that I cannot say.”
In time we became friends, but not once did Lars Alsir again refer to my birth.
I told Dionysius that the Tyrrhenians were difficult to approach and that a stranger could not hope to bribe them into revealing their maritime secrets.
He became enraged. “The bones of Phocaeans rest on their shores, and if the Tyrrhenians choose to bite iron rather than peacefully allow us to sail to Massilia, they can blame only themselves if they cut their lips.”
Dionysius had begun the construction of a new warship while supervising the elevation of Himera’s wall by three Greek ells. He did not compel the men to work too hard, merely enough to maintain discipline. Many of the Phocaeans married Himeran women and planned to take them to Massilia.
The Sicilian winter was mild and gentle. I was happy to live in Himera while seeking myself. But then I met Kydippe, the granddaughter of the tyrant Krinippos.
7.
Krinippos was an ailing man who ate only vegetables even though he was not a Pythagorean. In fact, he had banished the Pythagoreans because they made the mistake of preaching oligarchy by the wise and the virtuous instead of by the aristocrats and the wealthy.
In his agony Krinippos was in the habit of expressing such bitter thoughts to his son Terillos, whose head had grown bald while vainly awaiting his father’s death and the acquisition of the amulets. I had occasion to listen to Krinippos’ lectures when I accompanied Mikon to his house in curiosity. Mikon’s potions eased the tyrant’s pain but Mikon warned him, “I cannot heal you, for the power that you have consumed has gone to your belly and is devouring you from within like a crab.”
Krinippos sighed. “Ah, how willingly I would die! But I cannot think of my own pleasure for my heart is heavy with concern for Himera and I cannot understand how I can leave its government to my inexperienced son. For almost forty years I have held him by the hand and tried to teach him statesmanship, but one cannot expect much of one to whom not much has been given.”
Terillos plucked at the gold-leafed wreath that he wore to conceal his baldness and whined, “Dear father, I have at least learned that Himera’s peace and freedom depend on its friendship with Carthage. The goddess of Eryx gave me a wife from Segesta whom I have suffered all these years merely to assure us of an ally should Syracuse threaten us. But the only child she gave me was Kydippe. Because of your statesmanship I have not even a son to whom I can bequeath your amulets.”
Mikon tried Krinippos’ pulse as he lay groaning on a dirty sheepskin. “Don’t agitate yourself, ruler Krinippos, for anger and vexation will merely increase your discomfort.”
“My entire life has consisted of anger and vexation,” said Krinippos morosely. “I would feel uncomfortable if something were not constantly troubling me. But you, Terillos, do not concern yourself with your successor, for I greatly fear that you will have little power to bequeath. Marry off Kydippe in time to some trustworthy city and ruler so that when you have lost Himera you can gnaw her bread of charity.”
Terillos, who was a sensitive man, burst into tears at his father’s unki
nd words. Krinippos relented and patted his knee with a veined hand.
“I am not blaming you, my son. I myself sired you and must bear the consequences. You were born into a worse period than I and I doubt whether even with my amulets I could persuade the present Himera to make me its tyrant. People are no longer as superstitious as in the good old days. But I am glad, my son, for you will be relieved of the responsibility of power and will live out your days in Kydippe’s care.” Then he said, “Bring Kydippe here to kiss her grandfather. I want to show her to these men. It will do no harm to have the fame of her beauty spread beyond the city.”
I did not expect much of her, for grandfathers are easily blinded by love, but when Terillos escorted her in it was as though dawn had burst upon the bleak room. She was only fifteen, but her golden eyes shone, her skin was as white as milk, and when she smiled her little teeth gleamed like pearls.
After she had greeted us shyly Kydippe ran to kiss her grandfather and to stroke his sparse beard. Krinippos turned her from side to side like a heifer being offered for sale, tilted her chin and asked proudly, “Have you ever seen a more desirable maiden?”
Mikon said firmly that it was not wise to make a young girl aware of her beauty.
Krinippos cackled. “If it were a question of a more stupid girl you would be right, but Kydippe is not only fair but intelligent. I myself have taught her. Don’t believe in the gentleness of her eyes and the shyness of her smile, for she has already weighed you and decided how best to benefit by you. Haven’t you, Kydippe?”
Kydippe placed a rosy palm before his toothless mouth, blushed and said, “Oh, grandfather, why are you always so cruel? I couldn’t be calculating if I tried. I probably am not even beautiful in their opinion. You make me ashamed.”
Mikon and I cried out with one voice that she was the fairest maiden we had ever seen, and Mikon expressed his gratitude that he was already married and so could not be tempted to yearn for the moon in the sky.
“Not the moon,” I corrected him, “but the brightest, most dazzling sunrise. Seeing you, Kydippe, I wish that I were a king so that I might win you for my own.”
She tilted her head and looked at me through long lashes. “I am not yet of an age to think of men. But if I should think of someone, it would be of a handsome man whose hearth I would tend and for whom I would weave cloth from the wool of my own sheep. But I am sure that you are mocking me. My clothes are probably pleated in an old-fashioned manner and my shoes ridiculous.”
She was wearing a pair of soft leather shoes dyed red and bound with purple ribbons to her knees.
Krinippos said proudly, “I myself have walked half my life with bare feet and even yet I often take off my shoes lest they be worn needlessly. But this vain girl makes me poor with her demands. As she strokes my beard she whispers softly, ‘Grandfather, buy me some Etruscan shoes.’ As she kisses my forehead she murmurs, ‘Grandfather, today I saw a Phoenician comb that would look well in my hair.’ But if I become angry at her vanity she explains that she is not ornamenting herself for her own sake but for the sake of my position.”
Kydippe scolded him. “Oh, grandfather, how can you tease me so in the presence of strangers? You know well that I am not vain or demanding. But not everyone is like you. Even in a ragged robe and bare feet you are the autocrat of Himera. But my father must wear a golden wreath to distinguish himself from the people and I must ornament myself for sacrificial ceremonies and processions lest some drover or sailor mistakenly pinch me in passing.”
When we left Krinippos’ house Mikon said warningly, “That Kydippe is a heartless girl and just at the age when she wants to test her power over men. Don’t try to win her. In the first place you would not succeed, for her ambition is boundless. But even if you did, she would only cause you suffering, and finally Krinippos would have you killed like an annoying fly.”
But I could not think unkindly of such a wondrously fair maiden, and her innocent vanity was to me merely a childlike desire to charm. When I thought of her it was as though the sun shone on me and soon I ceased to think of anything else. I began to circle Krinippos’ house on the edge of the market place in the hope of catching a glimpse of her.
My only hope of meeting Kydippe was when she went to the marts with her servants and two scar-faced guards. She walked chastely with her eyes down, but she had a wreath on her head, rings in her ears, bracelets on her arms, and soft sandals on her feet.
When nothing else availed I turned to Lars Alsir. He consented to help me but said scornfully, “Are you really content with such worthless pastimes, Turms, when the miraculous games of the gods could be available to you? If you lust for that hard-hearted girl, why not use your powers over her? You will not win her heart with bribes.”
I told him that the very sight of Kydippe drained all my strength.
When she came to look at the Etruscan jewelry she admired a necklace of golden grains which Lars Alsir held against a black cloth so that the light from a hole in the ceiling fell on it. She ashed its price.
Lars Alsir shook his head in regret. “I have already sold it.” And when Kydippe asked the purchaser he mentioned my name, as we had agreed.
“Turms of Ephesus!” cried Kydippe. “I know him. What does he want with such jewelry? I thought he was a single man.”
Lars Alsir ventured to suppose that I had some friend to whom I wished to present it. He sent for me nevertheless, and of course I was not far away.
Kydippe smiled her most radiant smile, greeted me shyly and said, “Oh, Turms, I am so enchanted with this necklace. Won’t you give it up for my sake?”
I pretended to be embarrassed and said that I had already promised it to another. She laid her hand on my arm and breathed into my face. “I believed you to be a serious man,” she said. “It was that which attracted me to you so that I have been unable to forget your oval eyes. I am truly disappointed in you.”
I whispered that such matters could not be discussed before curious servant girls. Quickly she sent them into the yard and then we were three, she, Lars Alsir and I.
“Sell it to me,” pleaded Kydippe. “Otherwise I must consider you a frivolous man who pursues notorious women, for only a bad woman would accept such an expensive gift from a strange man.”
I pretended to hesitate. “How much will you pay for it?”
Lars Alsir considerately turned his back. Kydippe fingered her pouch and said unhappily, “Alas, I have perhaps only ten coins and grandfather already accuses me of wastefulness. Won’t you sell it to me cheaply?”
“That I will, Kydippe,” I said. “I will sell it to you for one silver coin if you will also allow me to kiss your mouth.”
She pretended to be deeply shocked. “You don’t know what you are asking. No man has yet kissed my mouth except my father and grandfather. Grandfather has warned me and said that a girl who allows a man to kiss her is lost. Don’t even suggest it, Turms.”
“It is true that I intended to give that necklace to a certain frivolous woman, but it would be easier for me to forget her if I could but kiss your innocent mouth.”
Kydippe hesitated. “Will you promise not to tell anyone? I want those beautiful golden beads so badly, but even more I would desire to rescue you from evil temptation if I could only believe that thereafter you would think only of me.”
I swore secrecy. Kydippe ascertained that Lars Alsir’s back was still turned, parted her lips for my kiss and even pushed her gown aside. Then suddenly she drew back, straightened her gown, took a silver coin from her purse and reached for the necklace.
“Take your drachma,” she said coldly. “Grandfather was right. But you did not affect me in any way, and, frankly, it was as though I had kissed the wet nose of a calf.”
She was shrewder than I and I had gained nothing with the kiss. Instead, I owed Lars Alsir for the expensive necklace. That should have served as a lesson, but I saved the silver coin and trembled each time I handled it.
I prayed in vain to Aph
rodite. I was certain that she had rejected me but in truth the goddess was preparing an entirely different snare for me in which Kydippe was merely the bait.
When the spring winds began to blow Dorieus called me aside and said, “Turms, I have thought much during these months and my decision has been made. I intend to travel to Eryx, by land so that I may acquaint myself with the entire western region. Tanakil will accompany me, for the goldsmiths of Eryx know how to make teeth of ivory and gold. People will believe her if she says that she is on her way to sacrifice to Aphrodite because of her widowhood. Mikon and Aura likewise are going, and naturally I would want you also to see the grain city of Segesta and the land of Eryx.”
I barely noticed his grimness, for I was thinking of Kydippe. “Your plan is excellent,” I said eagerly. “I also have matters for Aphrodite of Eryx. After all, she is the most famous Aphrodite of the western sea. Let us leave immediately.”
On the following day we departed for Eryx by horse, donkey and litter. We left our shields at Tanakil’s house and took with us only the traveler’s necessary weapons to defend ourselves against robbers and wild beasts. With my senses inflamed by Kydippe I was prepared for the journey and thought that my wish would be fulfilled with the aid of Aphrodite of Eryx. But the goddess was more cunning than I.
Book Four
The Goddess of Eryx
1.
I, the Turms who journeyed from Himera to Eryx, was a different being from the man who danced in the storm on the road to Delphi. A man changes slowly during every phase of his life until he realizes with a start that it is difficult for him to remember and recognize his former self. Thus life is a series of rebirths, and the beginning of each new phase is like a sudden leap over a chasm which stretches insurmountably behind one so that there is no return to the past.