The Etruscan (29 page)

The beasts of burden had been driven to the irrigation ditch, their owners happy in the belief that they were about to make off with our treasure. But the bridges had fallen and the men dared not drive the animals into the ditch lest they be drowned in the mire. Dorieus called out to them cheerfully, ordering them to return.

Upon hearing his voice, Arsinoe greeted him from the back of a donkey, accusing the wretches of not obeying her but of attempting to steal both her and the treasure. Mikon she had had stuffed into an empty feed basket after he had drunk himself into a stupor at the height of the battle.

A few threatening gestures from Dorieus hastily brought back the drovers and their animals. But as Arsinoe approached with the cat in its cage, the holy dog of Segesta raised its hackles and growled, with the result that Dorieus decided to return to the city well ahead of Arsinoe. This time the Segestan nobles urged one another to fall upon Dorieus and kill him, but the sight of the bare-fanged, growling Krimisos sent them retreating into their fortress of shields.

The shepherds and field workers of Eryx now attempted to enter the city, but the gate was shut relentlessly before them. Dorieus was at first annoyed, but when Tanakil’s sons explained that poor and undisciplined peasants would only create a disturbance in the city, he conceded that he owed the men nothing.

Meanwhile the wounded began to complain. “Why have we brought a learned physician with us? Have we fattened him and paid him a salary only to have him lie in a drunken stupor when we need him the most?”

Because of our friendship I hastily spilled Mikon out of the feed basket and revived him. He managed to stay on his feet although he knew little of what went on around him, but so experienced was he that he performed his duties as well as—and in the opinion of some even better than—when he was sober.

Of myself I shall say only that my knees were skinned, my arm had a spear wound, and my neck just above the collarbone had been pierced by an arrow. Mikon had to cut open my neck to remove the arrowhead. He said, however, that my wounds were merely of a kind to remind me of my body’s mortality. I mention the wounds only because Dorieus began to assemble and count those of his men who still could stand or raise an arm.

“I wouldn’t want to trouble you,” he said, “but the Segestan nobles are still lingering on the plain behind their shields. It may be necessary to go out and continue the battle.”

But that was too much for the men of Phocaea. They shouted in protest and demanded that he be content with the dog crown that now was his.

Dionysius counted his men and cried bitterly, “We were three hundred, but now there are not even enough Phocaeans to man a pente-conter. Spirits cannot move oars and raise sails.”

At length Dorieus consented to take off his helmet. “Perhaps I have completed my task,” he conceded with a sigh.

Tanakil’s sons also declared that enough blood had been shed, and that Segesta needed its heavily armed forces to maintain its power in the land of Eryx. They promised to conduct all necessary negotiations so that Dorieus would be spared the trouble.

“My sons are right,” said Tanakil. “It is time for you to rest. Your most important task at this moment is to lead the holy dog back to its pen, after which we may retire to discuss all that has happened.”

Dorieus’ glance strayed restlessly. He said in a weak voice, “You seem so distant, Tanakil. I feel as though years have elapsed since our meeting in Himera.”

Tanakil tried to smile. “I have grown thin worrying about you. But I will surely regain my strength after we are alone, and you will look at me with different eyes when you have rested.”

Tanakil’s sons hastily declared that, with the grain fields trampled and the land otherwise damaged, it was not a propitious time for erecting a new temple. Besides, omens had to be studied and the years calculated by seers.

At that Dorieus drooped, permitted himself to be divested of his armor and dressed in a Phoenician robe decorated with the moon and the stars, the nymph of Segesta and the holy dog. The people led him in a festive procession to the temple but the holy dog was unwilling to enter its pen. It looked beseechingly at Dorieus, who had to drag it forcibly into the pen. There the dog immediately sat down and began to howl ominously. Nor did it consent to eat or drink anything that the people offered it.

Dorieus nervously adjusted the dog crown that was tied to his head. “The howling of that dog hurts my ears and brings dismal thoughts,” he snapped. “Unless you can silence it I shall whip the animal.”

Fortunately, the people did not understand his threat. But the ominous howling depressed me also. Turning to Tanakil I asked, “If I remember correctly, the custom here is to marry the city’s fairest maiden each year to the holy dog. Why isn’t she here to attend to her spouse?”

“It is merely a tradition and no longer involves any responsibilities,” explained Tanakil. “In fact, the maiden merely shares the wedding cake with the dog and then leaves. But in honor of Dorieus we could find another maiden to comfort the dog.”

We could tell by Dorieus’ face that there was no time for delay. Tanakil called out to the people and immediately a little girl ran into the pen, wound her arms around the dog’s neck and began whispering in its ear. The dog looked at her in surprise and tried to free itself, but the little girl was insistent. Finally the dog ceased its howling and submitted to the girl’s caresses. The envious people then declared that a beggar girl was not good enough for the dog, but Tanakil retorted firmly that many another old custom had been violated that day. If the holy dog Krimisos accepted and was satisfied, its decision could not be questioned.

The pen was attached to the king’s residence, in which Tanakil had already prepared food and a bath. The building had been unoccupied and, because of its collection of holy objects, many of them obtained from animals, had a foul odor. The previous king had visited it only in connection with his official duties, but Dorieus was content with it, billeted the men of Phocaea at a nearby house, and asked that the wounded be cared for by Segestan residents.

Tanakil bustled about making Dorieus as comfortable as possible. After he had been bathed, anointed and massaged as thoroughly as his wounds permitted, he was carried by servants to the convivial couch. He tried to eat, but could not hold the food. Sighing he turned to Tanakil and said, “Earthly food apparently does not please my body which Thetis made invulnerable in her undersea chambers.”

“What do you mean, noble husband?” demanded Tanakil, glancing suspiciously at us. “Does your head ache? Undoubtedly it is exhaustion that makes you vomit and rave. Formerly my food was more than good enough for you.”

Dorieus smiled dejectedly and vomited once more. “I don’t understand what is wrong with me,” he said shamefacedly. “Ever since I achieved my goal I have felt weak, for I no longer know what I want.

Take away this accursed dog crown for it smells vile! Everything in this house smells of dog. It must be that which nauseates me.”

“Breathe my fragrance, my husband,” urged Tanakil. “In preparing to receive you, I let my body be anointed and had a scent cup tied to my forehead.”

Dorieus hopefully sniffed her forehead, then drew back, wrinkling his brows. “You also smell of dog, Tanakil.”

He held his stomach and complained, “It is as though I were on the vessel again. I am swaying on the couch just as I swayed in the arms of my beloved. Ah, Thetis, Thetis, I shall always long for you while I am on land!”

Tanakil looked at us glumly. I hastened to explain what had happened during the voyage while Mikon whispered into her other ear in his capacity as physician.

She glanced at Arsinoe suspiciously but nodded. Then, patting Dorieus’ cheeks, she said soothingly, “I understand and do not mind your union with that Thetis since I am not jealous by nature. But it would be best for you to remain indoors for a few days. The more a king remains aloof from trivial matters the more respected he is. I have already provided you with the garment of a maiden so that, like your holy forefather Herakles, you may perform a woman’s tasks in order to placate the gods.”

The men of Phocaea listened with open mouths but no one laughed. Dionysius agreed that Dorieus had shown such incomparable virility that it undoubtedly would be wisest for him to wear woman’s garments for a few days to allay the gods’ envy.

Tanakil’s promise and Dionysius’ understanding calmed Dorieus. His eyes closed and he fell face down onto the couch. We carried him into the bedchamber and left him there, his head at Tanakil’s breast.

Dorieus remained out of sight for twelve days, and in that period Segestan affairs worked out for the best. The nobles suddenly attacked the rebels of Eryx, compelling them to give up their weapons and return to their masters. To the Siccani the people of Segesta gave gifts of salt and clay pots with the injunction to return to the forest.

The people also made peace with the nobles, permitting them to return to the city with their horses, dogs and athletes, and convincing them that the assumption of the heavy burden of government by the people was to the nobles’ advantage. Not only could they retain the outward symbols of their rank but, having been relieved of the responsibility of government, they would have more time to devote to horse breeding, dog training and watching athletic competitions. However, they must henceforth permit wealthy merchants and skilled artisans to marry their daughters and inherit land, and also permit certain leading city officials to keep dogs even though they were not of noble birth.

Dorieus was anxious to send emissaries to the large Greek cities in Sicily to herald his acquisition of the crown, but Tanakil protested vehemently. “You cannot do that, for the council of Carthage would suspect you of harboring plans for an alliance with the Greeks. Much happened while you were at sea. Anaxilaos of Rhegion conquered Zankle with the aid of some refugees fleeing from the Persians. When Krinippos of Himera heard that, he hastily married off his granddaughter Kydippe to Anaxilaos, who changed the name of Zankle to Messina, signed a treaty of friendship with Carthage, and now rules both shores of the strait. So, through marriage, actually the entire north shore of Sicily is under the influence of Carthage. My sons will have much explaining to do before Carthage recognizes your legal right to the dog crown.”

After the harvest, two emissaries arrived from Carthage by way of F.ryx to investigate Segestan affairs. They were two because the council
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Carthage did not willingly entrust important matters to only one man, and three again would have been too many. But naturally, the two were accompanied by servants, bookkeepers, surveyors, and military experts.

Dorieus let Tanakil arrange a banquet in their honor. She brought forth her genealogical table for the guests to see and assured them that Dorieus would soon learn the Elymian language and habits. Dorieus for his part took the guests to see the holy dog. He had little else to show them.

After lengthy negotiations, which Dorieus permitted the city council to conduct on his behalf, the Carthaginian emissaries recognized Dorieus as the king of Segesta and all Eryx. But they bade him make reparation for the damage he had caused Panormos. Actually, the Carthaginians had already confiscated the trireme. Other demands were the recognition of Eryx as a Carthaginian city, the right of Carthage, as the winter residence of the goddess,” to continue drawing the revenue derived from the pilgrimages to Eryx, and the right of approval by Carthage of all trade agreements with the Sicilian Greek cities as well as of all matters pertaining to war and peace. And finally, Dionysius and the other men of Phocaea must be turned over to Carthage for judgment for their piracy on the eastern sea.

To all else Dorieus yielded since the demands meant merely the recognition of existing conditions, but the men of Phocaea he refused to surrender. He resisted staunchly, although Tanakil tried to prove that he owed nothing to Dionysius but on the contrary had suffered an injustice at his hands.

“What happened on the sea was a matter unto itself,” said Dorieus. “I cannot violate the brotherhood that we sealed on land with our blood.”

But when Dionysius heard that the negotiations threatened to run aground because of him, he came voluntarily to Dorieus. “I don’t want to endanger the kingship which I unselfishly helped you to obtain, and so we will step out of your way and return to sea.”

Dorieus brightened at the suggestion. “That may be the best thing to do, although I had hoped to fulfill my promise and make you lord of the land. But what can I do when Carthage does not agree to it?”

For some reason the Carthaginians did not demand Arsinoe, Mikon or myself, and we lived in Dorieus’ residence enjoying Tanakil’s hospitality as we had in Himera. Meanwhile the men of Phocaea were not having a pleasant time in Segesta. They were compelled to shut themselves in their lodgings and even pay for their own maintenance while the Carthaginian emissaries ordered them guarded day and night lest they repeat their escape from Himera. But there we had been on the shore of the sea and the ships had been ready for sailing.

With the approach of autumn the Phocaeans felt as though a noose were being tightened around their throats. They began to rub the indelible blue marks on their backs and to wonder how it would feel to be skinned alive. Every day the Carthaginian emissaries with their coppery faces and gold-threaded beards strolled by the Phocaeans’ lodgings while their retinue shouted threats. At Dionysius’ order the Phocaeans bore the insults in silence.

Dorieus understandably grew tired of them since they were in his way. The Carthaginian emissaries became impatient and demanded the surrender of the Phocaeans before the end of the sailing season. When I talked with them they pretended tolerance, assuring me the tales of their skinning people alive were sheer slander. The Carthaginian maritime law was severe, true, but not senseless. They had mines in Iberia which were constantly in need of labor. Ill-tempered slaves might be blinded or disjointed at the knee to prevent escape, but nothing worse happened to them.