The Etruscan (19 page)

We calmed him after a time and then Dorieus came out with a wrinkled cloth around his shoulders.

“What has happened?” he demanded. “I distinctly dreamed that I was on a ship. It swayed beneath me and the waves crashed against its sides so violently that I thought it best to lie on my belly and grip the sides of my bed.”

Upon looking around his interest was aroused. “I see that a war has broken out without my knowledge!” he exclaimed. “Why did I leave my shield in Himera? But at least bring me my sword and show me whom to smite and I in turn will show you how a Spartan fights.”

Seeing the confused state of both Mikon and Dorieus, I knew that it was not caused by wine alone, and I began to suspect myself. Perhaps my senses were so disturbed by my dreams in the temple that I had no conception of reality and exaggerated my experiences.

But at least the confusion in the city was real. People were fleeing into the temple, carrying the wounded and dragging weeping children by the hand. No one paid any attention to us. Rich and poor, merchants and shepherds, masters and slaves mingled together in a noisy conglomeration.

Tanakil said, “If we are wise, we will quietly gather my servants, the donkeys and the horses, leave farewell gifts for the innkeeper to distribute, and depart from Eryx. I know and you know best, Turms, why this catastrophe has struck the city. The people and the priests may also soon realize it.”

Her words held wisdom, but when I glanced at Arsinoe’s face, her soft mouth and shining eyes, I knew that I could not relinquish her.

“Yes,” I said boldly, “let us leave. But you, Arsinoe, must accompany us.”

As my companions stared incredulously from Arsinoe to me, I suggested, “Clothe yourself in Aura’s garments and assume her countenance just as you change your face at the will of the goddess. Everything has happened for a purpose. Aura’s ashes will remain in Eryx in your stead. We can easily leave the city in this confusion.”

But my words horrified Arsinoe. “You don’t know what you are saying, Turms. How could I trust you who are a man and a stranger? What could you offer me? As the priestess of Aphrodite of Eryx I have attained the highest position possible for a woman. Would I abandon a life of luxury and the jewels and beautiful clothes of the goddess merely because I happened to take a liking to you during the boredom of winter? On the contrary, I should fear you and flee from you because of the very power that you exert over me and my body.”

She touched my hand pleadingly. “Don’t look at me with such reproach, Turms. You know well that I weep and long for you. But soon the goddess will arrive from beyond the sea. The processions and secret rites, the joy, the variety and the crowds will soon dispel my yearning. Be sensible and do not tempt me with the impossible.”

The muscles in my cheeks tightened in anger. “But a moment ago, weeping with joy, you swore in the name of the goddess that you could not live without me.”

Arsinoe looked vexed, moved her foot and studied the ground. “A moment ago was a moment ago, but now is now. I spoke the truth when I said that I could not imagine myself loving any man as I love you. But I would not even dare try to recapture that moment. Now my head is aching, my eyes are smarting and my breasts pain me. Your very suggestion makes me ill with fear.”

Tanakil broke into the conversation. “Don’t you realize, you foolish man, that she is a slave to the goddess? If you abduct her from the temple you will have the entire land of Eryx in pursuit.”

I bade her be quiet and asked Arsinoe sharply, “Are you a slave or free?”

She avoided my eyes and retorted, “What then? Would you despise me if I were a slave?”

My heart sank but I said, “It depends on whether you are a slave by birth or whether you were sold into slavery as a child. Besides, even a born slave who is permitted to dedicate himself to some deity is considered free.”

Tanakil became angry and shouted, “Dorieus, hit Turms over the head to silence him and you, woman, return as quickly to the shelter of the temple as though you were already there.”

Arsinoe made haste to leave, then stopped and returned. “Where is my parasol? I left it in the orchard.”

I told her that the storm probably had blown it into the sea and she burst into tears, saying that it had cost dearly. So I went to look for it and finally found it wedged so tightly in the crotch of a fruit tree that the gayly colored cloth tore when I pulled it free.

She began to weep once more and said accusingly, “See what misfortune you bring me! The round cloth is torn and the ivory handle broken.”

Enraged by her pettiness when more important matters were in question, I asked Tanakil to lend me a few gold coins that I might buy Arsinoe a new and even finer parasol. Tanakil complained that she had already spent far too much money but nevertheless, at Dorieus’ request, went to her coffer and counted out the money. Whereupon Arsinoe smiled, clapped her hands in glee and said that she knew of a Phoenician merchant who sold both round and square parasols, with fringes or tassels.

I looked at her incredulously and asked, “Arsinoe, how can you think of parasols when the city lies in ruins around us and you yourself are a matter of life and death to me?”

She fluttered her eyelashes playfully at me. “But, Turms, I am a woman. Haven’t you realized that yet? You still have much to learn.”

And so it happened that she led us all to the shop of the Phoenician merchant, skipping happily over the broken timbers and stones in the street. The Phoenician’s shop was strongly built and had not suffered much damage. At our approach he lit the incense before the Baal on his wall, rubbed his hands and prepared for a profitable sale.

While Tanakil and Arsinoe were looking at parasols as well as other wares, Mikon said, “Turms and Dorieus, my friends, this is a city of folly. Watching those two women I foresee that we will be here until evening. In the meantime, the only sensible thing we three can do is to drink ourselves intoxicated.”

Watching Arsinoe’s quick fingers feeling the cloth and fringe of the parasols and listening to her light laugh as she bartered with the Phoenician, I clutched my head in my hands to see whether it was still in place.

“Why in truth should we worry about tomorrow?” I asked. “At least the wine can make nothing worse, for matters are already as bad as they can be.”

The Phoenician sent his slave to fetch some wine. The smell of the incense and the wares made us so queasy that we moved outside and seated ourselves on the backs of the stone lions framing the door. Before many blinks of an eye we had emptied a jug of expensive sweet

wine.

“We are behaving like barbarians,” I said, “for we haven’t even a mixing vessel and I for one have never drunk wine from the edge of ajar.”

Dorieus said then, “This wine has a musty taste. It is preserved with flavorings that make the belly loose. Let us have honest resinous wine instead.”

We drank a wineskin of it and sprayed it on one another in lieu of an offering. Arsinoe came to the doorway to try a delicate nose ring in her nostrils and to ask us how we liked it.

Mikon covered his face with his hands and groaned, “I thought my wife Aura had died, but there she is again as large as life!”

“Don’t begin to see visions again as you did last night,” Dorieus said contemptuously. “She is only the goddess who appears in the temple. I recognize her by her ears. But she is nothing compared to Tanakil. She is as though one dipped a finger in honey and licked it clean. But when I enfold Tanakil in my embrace it is as though I were falling head first into a well. Soon we will be man and wife according to both Phoenician and Dorian laws, and then you can both try her if you wish. A Spartan refuses his friends nothing.” He thought for a moment, eyes dull from the wine, and then added, “But if you do I shall kill you. That would be best, for once having embraced Tanakil you would crave death more than life. It is difficult to rise from the bottom of a well.”

He buried his face in his hands and wept with heaving shoulders.

Mikon also shed tears. “All three of us are alone in the world. Alone we have come here and alone we shall return. Let us not quarrel among ourselves but drink wine moderately and with deliberation, just like this. Have I already told you that last night I descended to the underworld to accompany my wife Aura, or at least to see her on her way?”

Just then Arsinoe came out of the shop and showed us the parasol she had chosen. It was no more than the width of several hands, square and edged with fringe, undeniably a fine thing; but it would not have shielded even a frog from the sun.

“Oh, Turms, I am so pleased with this parasol!” she exclaimed. “The merchant also promised to repair my old one, so that now I have two. But I must leave now. I will surely remember you, Turms, especially when I look at this enchanting parasol. Have a good journey, and do not forget me immediately, either.”

“Arsinoe,” I said threateningly, “remember that I gave you a new name. With it I control you whether you wish it or not.”

She patted my cheek and laughed giddily. “Of course, dear Turms, just as you wish. But at this moment you are just drunk enough not to be able to answer for your words.”

She turned and went down the street, holding the new parasol daintily on her shoulder and lifting the hem of her robe with the other hand as she jumped lightly over the obstacles heaped by the storm. As I tried to run after her I stumbled over the first timber, crashed onto my face and was unable to rise until Dorieus and Mikon helped me to my feet. Holding onto one another we started back to the inn, Tanakil behind us with a large parasol over her shoulder.

I awakened in the middle of the night to a paralyzing agony, as though the venom of a snake were spreading through my veins. At the moment of awakening I knew and remembered everything that had happened, and I knew that the goddess had seized me in her power. She had made me love a frivolous woman whose words I could not believe and whose very body lied in my embrace.

But even as I thought the worst of her I saw distinctly her changing face and slanting brows, and her eyes grew dark before me. Perhaps she had experienced a thousand men. Perhaps she was a slut, as Tanakil claimed. But at the very thought of her my mind was torn by desire, tenderness and longing, and I knew that every moment apart from her was mortally dreadful.

I staggered to the courtyard and drank some cold water from a clay container hanging by the door. The sounds had stilled and the lamps had been extinguished in the city. The firmament was full of stars and the new moon, a cruel sickle, threatened me from the edge of the sky.

I went into the stable and in a basket found the pegs belonging to Tanakil’s travel tent. Then I crept through the night to the gate of the temple. It was closed, but the guard was not on the wall and no sound came from within. I circled the wall until I found a suitable place, thrust one tent peg between the stones, rose onto it and then thrust in another. In that manner I built steps for myself and reached the top of the wall. Crawling on my belly I finally found the guard’s stairs and descended into the inner courtyard.

Heaps of rubble left by the storm were still there. Dimly I saw the gleam of the marble peristyle around the fountain and groped my way to it.

I prostrated myself by the fountain and prayed, “You foam-born, by your eternal fountain, heal me of the agony of my love. You kindled it and only you can extinguish it.”

By leaning over the edge I managed to touch the surface of the water with a willow twig and thus got a few drops into my mouth. Carefully I tossed a silver coin into the fountain. The light of the new moon brightened and the goddess Artemis watched me ominously from the sky. But I had no regret. I was not afraid of her fatal arrows, and around my neck was the moonstone which shielded me from madness.

“Come,” I called, “appear before me, you most glorious of deities— without a priest, without the mediation of a mortal woman, though I burn to ashes at sight of you.”

From the depths of the fountain I heard a gurgle as though someone had replied to me. Looking into the water I thought I saw ripples. I began to feel dizzy and had to sit up and rub my eyes to remain conscious.

For a long time nothing happened. Then a shadowy body of light began to assume shape before me. It was winged and naked but so immaterial that I could see the columns through it. She was fairer than all mortal women and even Arsinoe’s living beauty was but the shadow of this body of light in mortal clay.

“Aphrodite, Aphrodite!” I whispered. “Is it you, goddess?”

She shook her head sadly and looked at me with reproachful eyes. “Do you not know me? No, I see that you do not. But some day I will enfold you in my arms and bear you away on powerful wings.”

“Who are you then, that I may know you?” I asked.

She smiled a radiant smile that pierced my heart. “I am your guardian spirit,” she said. “I know you and am bound to you. Pray not to earthly gods nor surrender yourself to their power. You yourself are immortal if you but dare admit it.”

She shook her beautiful head forlornly. “Images of you will be sculptured,” she said, “and offerings made to you. I am within you and of you until that final moment when you recognize me and I kiss the mortal breath from your mouth. Oh, Turms, bind not yourself to earthly deities. Both Artemis and Aphrodite are but jealous, capricious and malevolent spirits of the earth and air. They have their power and their sorcery and they are both competing for you. But neither the moon nor sun will give you immortality, merely the seat of oblivion. And e-gain you must return, again you will bind me to the pain of your birth
fad
to your living, greedy human body.”

My mortal eyes reveled in her radiance. Then doubt crept into my mind. “You are only a vision,” I said, “like other visions. Why should you appear to me just at this moment if you have accompanied me all my life?”

“You are in danger of binding yourself,” she explained. “Never before have you wanted to do that. Now you are ready to do so for the sake of a mortal woman, for foam and sensual pleasure. You came here to bind yourself to Aphrodite although you are the son of the storm. If you only had sufficient faith in yourself, Turms, you would know better.”