One of the priests asked derisively whether I had no other problems for Aphrodite of Eryx. “Little do you Greeks understand Aphrodite,” he said scornfully. “Her power is not founded only in proficiency. Sensual ecstasy and erotic pleasures are merely her disguises, just as she ornaments herself with nine strings of pearls for the sole purpose of contrasting the gleam of her living skin to the lifelessness of the pearls.”
Tanakil spoke to him placatingly. “Don’t you remember me? Twice already the goddess has appeared to me and shown me my future husband. First she married me to Segesta, then to Himera, and on each occasion I made an offering, first upon receiving a husband and then again having buried him. Now I am hopeful that the goddess will appear yet a third time to me.”
The priest looked first at her and then at Dorieus and said with a grimace, “Of course I remember you, Tanakil, you incorrigible one. The goddess favors you, but even her power is limited.”
He turned to us and Mikon hastened to explain, “I am consecrated and as a physician am striving to familiarize myself with divine matters. Because of the goddess’s whim I had to marry this Siculian girl. When I first touched her she lost her power of speech but now that we are wedded she talks even too much, especially when I want to contemplate supernatural affairs. As a consequence, I became increasingly weak and now am completely impotent. We therefore hope that the goddess will appear to us and aid us so that our marital relations will be more harmonious.”
For my part I said, “Aphrodite once favored me in clothing my nakedness in her sacred woolen bonds. One single name rings through my mind night and day, but I dare mention it only to the goddess herself if she appears to me.” I looked around at the dove-spattered courtyard, the unhewn rocks and eroded bull’s-heads in the wall, saw how cheap and insignificant everything was and added, “I don’t think, however, that she will appear.”
The priest disregarded my words and invited us to his lodgings, mixed some inferior wine for us and told us what to eat and how to purge ourselves while awaiting the appearance of the goddess. As he gave his advice he looked at each of us in turn and waved his arms in the air.
Resting his hand on my shoulder the priest said, “Do not doubt and fall into despair. I believe that the goddess will appear to you and free you from your trouble.”
His touch dispelled my sluggishness, my limbs felt light and the priest no longer seemed an angry old man but a mentor worthy of all confidence.
Words came to my lips. “I have met the Delphic oracle. She said that she recognized me, but she was a restless and violent woman. You I trust.”
He allowed the others to go ahead, held me by the shoulders, looked into my eyes and said, “You have come far.”
“I have,” I replied. “I shall go perhaps even farther.”
“Have you already bound yourself?” he asked.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, “but a certain name binds me and forces me to seek the goddess.”
“Such was the purpose. Apparently the goddess wished to have you here. Set your mind at ease for she will surely appear to you. Whoever binds you can also relax the bonds.”
That same evening Dorieus and Tanakil went to the temple together to spend the night by the empty pedestal awaiting the goddess’s appearance, while Mikon and I sat drinking wine together.
Later we drank more wine with the learned artisan who earlier that evening had taken an impression of Tanakil’s missing teeth in soft wax. He told us of his skill which he said he had acquired in Carthage.
The new teeth were carved from ivory and fastened with gold bands to the remaining teeth.
“But after that,” he said, “one can eat only food that has already been cut. The Etruscans claim that they can fasten teeth even more securely than the natural teeth, but that is probably just boasting.”
He was a well-traveled man who said that with his own eyes he had seen in the temple of Baal in Carthage the skins of three completely hairy men which a Phoenician expedition had brought back from a voyage southward from the Pillars of Herakles. Of all the people, he declared, only the Phoenicians knew the secrets of the ocean. They had sailed so far north in it that the waters had turned to ice and so far west that the ships had been caught in a sea of seaweed.
He told us many other unbelievable things about the Phoenicians of Carthage and we drank so much that the host sent his servant to lead the tooth carver back to his lodgings and Aura tearfully took Mikon to bed with her. I don’t know whether the wine made us more receptive to the goddess but I do know that on the following day all the foods I was permitted to eat tasted like pitch in my mouth.
When Dorieus and Tanakil returned from the temple in the morning they clung to each other, looked at no one else and did not answer our questions. They went to sleep immediately and slept until evening, when Mikon and Aura in turn went to the temple.
Dorieus arose and confided to me that he intended to marry Tanakil, whom he called the dove of Aphrodite.
“In the first place,” he declared, “Tanakil is the most beautiful woman in the world. I have always respected her, but when Aphrodite entered into her in the temple her face began to shine like the sun, her body became as consuming as a pyre and I realized that from now on she would be the only woman in the world for me. Secondly, she is infinitely wealthy. Thirdly, through her earlier marriages and her own birth she has excellent connections with most of the land of Eryx. Heretofore she has not used them to political advantage because she is a woman. But I have succeeded in arousing her ambition.”
“In the name of the goddess,” I cried, “are you really going to bind yourself to a Phoenician hag who could be your grandmother?”
But Dorieus was not even angered by my words. With a pitying shake of his head he replied, “You are the one who is crazy, not I. Some witchcraft has blinded your eyes so that you fail to see how fine-featured Tanakil’s face is, how her eyes shine and how full-blown her figure is.”
His eyes began to gleam like a bull’s; he rose and said, “Why am I wasting time in chattering with you? My dove, my Aphrodite, is undoubtedly waiting for me impatiently after having tried her new teeth.”
Later that night when the house had grown still Tanakil crept out of her bedchamber, came to me and asked joyously, “Has Dorieus confided our great secret to you? You must have noticed already in Himera that he took advantage of my widowhood. Now, because of the goddess, he has promised to make me an honorable woman once more.
I said sharply that Dorieus as a Spartan was inexperienced in matters of the heart. She, Tanakil, as a three-time widow should have known better than to seduce a susceptible man.
But Tanakil replied accusingly, “Dorieus is the one who has been the seducer. When you came to my house I would never even have thought of tempting him, for I am an old woman. Even last night I repulsed him three times but three times he weakened me.”
She spoke so convincingly that I was compelled to believe. I do not know whether the witchery of the goddess was responsible or whether it was just the wine that dimmed my eyes, but in the light of the torch Tanakil’s features appeared beautiful and her black eyes gleamed compellingly. Dorieus’ behavior suddenly became understandable.
Noticing that my heart had melted, Tanakil sat beside me, placed her hand on my knee and explained, “Dorieus’ liking for me is not nearly so unnatural as you think. He has hinted at many things that not even he understands, but I who have buried three husbands can read a man’s mind from half a word. He told me that that forefather of his, Herakles, dressed in a woman’s clothes for a year during which he wove cloth and did other womanly tasks although he was usually a most quarrelsome man. Once a part of the herd that he had stolen fled to Sicily by swimming across the straits from Italy. A valuable bull named Europa was among them, and Herakles left his other cattle to search for the escaped animals. In pursuing them he reached Eryx and killed its king but restored the land to the Elymi. Before leaving he said that one of his descendants would some day return to claim the land as his legacy.”