Tyrant (45 page)

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Authors: Valerio Massimo Manfredi

BOOK: Tyrant
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‘Don’t you ever dare see my wives again in my absence.’

‘Is that all you have to say to me?’

Dionysius ignored his question and continued. ‘Himilco has left Panormus directed east, towards Messana. I believe he wants to cross the Straits and attack us from the north. Take the fleet out as far as Catane. Stay offshore, and do not let yourself be drawn into a fight. You will attack only on my orders.’

Leptines stood and walked towards the door.

‘I’ve had five more quinqueremes built for you.’

Leptines stopped a moment without turning, then opened the door and went out.

Dionysius covered his face with his hands and remained alone, in silence, in the middle of that vast room.

 

Leptines met Philistus at the harbour, where he was taking his leave of a delegation of foreign guests that was returning home. He barely nodded at him.

‘Where are you going in such a hurry?’ protested Philistus.

‘Leave me alone,’ replied Leptines.

‘If you’re angry with me, tell me why.’

‘I’m not angry with you. It’s that damned bastard of my brother. You’ve created a monster.’

‘We, if anything. We have created a monster. Dionysius has risen to power thanks to all of us. But I don’t think you want to discuss the corruptive effects of power.’

‘No, I’m hungry. He didn’t even invite me to dinner.’

‘I’ll invite you.’

Leptines hesitated a moment. ‘Was it you who told him I’d gone to see Aristomache?’

‘Yes,’ replied Philistus.

‘Is that any way to tell me?’

‘You asked me a question. I answered.’

‘Why did you tell him?’

‘Because it would have been worse if he had learned it from someone else.’

‘I would have told him myself.’

‘I doubt it. I can see the look on your face when you speak of Aristomache.’

‘I don’t want to talk about it any more.’

‘Will you come to dinner though?’

‘If you don’t ask me any more questions.’

‘All right.’

They went to Philistus’s house and the servants brought water for washing, and cool wine. Dinner was served on the terrace because the weather was still quite good, despite it being late autumn.

‘He gets worse every day,’ said Leptines suddenly.

‘I wouldn’t say so,’ replied Philistus.

‘You wouldn’t say so? What are you saying? He left Biton alone at Motya, without any reason in this world for doing so. Our lives matter nothing to him, all he cares about is staying in power. And as far as Aristomache is concerned . . .’

‘You said you didn’t want to talk about that . . .’

‘I’ve changed my mind. As far as Aristomache is concerned . . . I feel that marrying two women at once was an act of extreme arrogance that can only provoke humiliation and frustration in both and . . .’

‘I wouldn’t have said you were so tender and sensitive. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t feel that is true at all,’ retorted Philistus. ‘Dionysius is very attractive, he’s strong as a bull and he’s one of the most powerful men in the world. Women find these things appealing, believe me. And if you want my advice . . .’

‘I don’t.’

‘I’m going to give it to you anyway. Heed my words well. Women get bored when they’re closed up in their own quarters, it’s only normal. Imagine being shut up between four walls for most of your life . . . And so they instinctively seek out distraction, and when they find someone to converse with, they tend to exaggerate their feelings and problems, making them bigger than they are. While in reality, they may be bothered by nothing much at all. Those two girls have everything a woman could desire: a husband who’s like a god, who has more than enough strength and virility for both; they have a beautiful home, jewels, children, food, handmaidens, readings, music. When they appear in public they’re at the centre of attention of thousands and thousands of people, they’re admired like divinities . . . there’s nothing that flatters a woman more than the admiration of others.’

‘Aristomache is unhappy,’ retorted Leptines. He turned away, pretending to watch a pair of triremes which were docking at the shipyard.

Philistus fell silent, apparently concentrating on the roasted bass he had been served. Even Leptines did not open his mouth for some time.

‘Tell me something,’ Philistus finally said. ‘Was something going on between you and Aristomache before Dionysius asked for her hand?’

‘You think I’d tell you, if it were true?’

‘Why not? Have I ever hurt you?’

‘We’d play together, when we were children, in the courtyard between our houses. Dionysius was away that year, he’d gone to my uncle Demaretus’s house in the mountains to be cured of an insistent cough.’

‘That’s all?’

‘That’s all.’

‘How old were you?’

‘Eleven. I was eleven, she was nine.’

‘And you promised each other eternal love.’

‘Something like that.’

Philistus sighed. ‘By Zeus, you’re the second most powerful man in Sicily, you command a fleet of nearly one hundred and fifty battle ships and twenty-five thousand men. You’ve killed hundreds of people in your life and wounded countless others, you’ve fucked hundreds of females of every size, shape and colour . . .’

‘Let it go,’ interrupted Leptines. ‘It’s better this way . . . I . . . have to go. Thank you for dinner.’

‘It was a pleasure,’ replied Philistus. ‘Will I be seeing you?’

‘No, not for a while. I’m leaving with the fleet.’

‘Good. That’s less dangerous than cultivating certain thoughts.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ asked Leptines.

‘You know very well what I mean. Good luck.’

Leptines gave a little nod of his head, then went down to the harbour and boarded the
Boubaris
.

 

Himilco moved on to Himera, and her inhabitants surrendered spontaneously. Less than one-fifth of the original population had been restored, and they had no intention of attempting to resist such a fierce, implacable enemy.

The Carthaginian army proceeded towards Messana and pitched camp about twenty stadia outside the city. The Messanians evacuated their wives and children, sending them to the mountains when they had relatives or friends there, or to their farms in the country. They then drew up their forces at a narrow pass between the mountains and the sea, determined to bar their enemy’s way. But Himilco sailed beyond that point and landed the army directly in the harbour. The city was practically undefended and fell without a fight to massacre and pillage. Only about fifty able-bodied men in all managed to escape by swimming across the Straits to Rhegium. This feat appeared so extraordinary that it would later become an athletic competition held on every anniversary of the first crossing, accompanied by a ceremony in honour of Poseidon, the god of the sea.

Himilco took personal command of the ground troops and led them south towards Catane, leaving the command of his immense fleet to his admiral, Mago.

Not even a violent eruption of Mount Aetna managed to hold them back. A huge flow of lava stretched all the way down to the sea, raising a column of steam even more awesome that the plume of smoke that rose from the volcano. Himilco claimed that he feared nothing and had the army pass behind the fiery mountain, reaching the coastal road near Catane and joining up there with the fleet.

Dionysius decided to go forth and meet the enemy. He gathered all the available forces and recalled Leptines’s fleet. Before leaving, he stopped to say farewell to his wives, both together, to avoid jealousy. But he knew that his Syracusan wife Aristomache was pregnant again and he showered her with loving attentions. ‘Take care of yourself, I’m very eager to see our child.’

‘Are you?’ she replied, smiling. ‘Are you eager to see him? I’ve already felt him move.’

‘When is the birth expected?’

‘In six months at the most.’

‘Then he will be born in peace time. If the gods heed my pleas.’

Doris, the other wife, brought little Dionysius for a kiss from his father, and she whispered in his ear. ‘I’m sure that Aristoma-che’s child will look as much like you as he does.’

Dionysius looked at her with a strange expression and Doris lowered her eyes.

He kissed both of them on the mouth, then tried to kiss the child, but the little one burst into tears. ‘Why does he cry whenever he sees me?’ asked Dionysius, irritated.

‘Because he never sees you,’ replied Doris. ‘Because of your beard and your armour.’

Dionysius nodded in silence and left, escorted by his mercenaries.

He called the first meeting of his staff in his tent, at a short distance from enemy lines. His father-in-law Hipparinus took part, along with Iolaus, who commanded a division of assault troops, Philistus, Leptines, who had returned from Catane, and the commanders of the Italian allies.

‘I’ve decided to attack,’ he began. ‘We must inflict so much damage that they will be forced to return to Carthage for the winter. Their fleet plays a crucial role here. Without transports, such a huge army cannot survive.’ He turned towards Leptines. ‘You will attack the fleet from the open sea. Attempt to sink as many vessels as possible, but do not get carried away. Think through each move attentively and attack only when you are sure of succeeding. Above all, do not allow your forces to disperse, for any reason. We will draw up on the beach so as to give Mago the impression of being crushed between land and sea. But in this phase, you will be the one to engage the enemy. And don’t forget, there’s still a great disparity between their strength and ours.’

Leptines bristled under those orders and recommendations. He was the commander-in-chief of the fleet and he knew what he was doing.

Dionysius insisted. ‘Keep your ships in a compact formation, don’t let their numerical superiority give them the upper hand.’

‘I understand,’ replied Leptines, barely able to keep the irritation out of his voice.

‘Fine then,’ replied Dionysius curtly. ‘Good luck.’

The day after, Leptines was at the head of a group of thirty quinqueremes cruising south of Catane. The rest of the Syracusan fleet, one hundred and ten triremes, followed five-across in a long column. All at once, they spotted the van of Mago’s fleet advancing along the coast in the opposite direction. There were about fifty units in all. In the distance, they could see the glittering spears of Dionysius’s warriors arrayed on the shoreline, across a front nearly one stadium wide.

Leptines called the second-in-command and ordered him to signal to the rest of the fleet to form two lines of combat. Obeying the signals from the flagship, the commanders of the single units began to manoeuvre in order to draw up in a line with their bows pointing towards land.

Leptines had noticed, in the meantime, that the Carthaginian ships were spaced rather far apart and were apparently having trouble with the ebbing waves along the coast. He realized that this was an unrepeatable opportunity to sink them and squash the enemy’s superiority. He ordered the quinqueremes to follow him.

The second officer attempted a dismayed protest. ‘Commander . . .’

‘You heard my orders,’ shot back Leptines. ‘We’re attacking. The others will follow.’

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