Eyes brimming with hot tears, I fled into the house. I knew then that I could no longer trust anyone, least of all Arsinoe. This bitter truth must come to each one of us sooner or later. It is as inescapable a part of life as ashen bread or a cold. Then a feeling of relief swept over me as I knew that I was under no obligation to Dorieus. Our friendship no longer bound me to him since he himself had violated that friendship.
When I returned to our room Arsinoe raised herself eagerly from the couch. “Well, Turms, have you spoken to Dorieus and are you not ashamed of your cruel suspicions?”
“How brazen can you be, Arsinoe? Dorieus confessed.”
“Confessed what?” she demanded.
“To having lain with you, as you well know.” I sank onto the couch in despair. “Why did you lie and falsely swear by our love? Never again will I be able to trust you, Arsinoe.”
She wound her arms around my neck. “But, Turms, what nonsense is this? Dorieus could not have confessed. Do you think that Spartan is trying to alienate us by sowing seeds of doubt in your mind? I can think of no other reason.”
Reluctantly I looked at her with hungry, hopeful eyes. She read my longing to believe, and hastened to explain. “Now I understand, Turms. Naturally I wounded his masculine pride in rejecting his advances and, knowing how credulous you are, he is retaliating by speaking falsely of me.”
“Don’t, Arsinoe,” I pleaded. “I am already heartsick unto death. Dorieus did not lie, for I know him better than you.”
She took my head between her palms. For a moment she studied me, then thrust me aside. “So be it. I no longer have the strength to fight for our love. All is at an end, Turms. Farewell. Tomorrow I shall return to Eryx.”
What could I have said? What could I have done but fling myself on the floor and beg forgiveness for my ugly suspicions? She was in my blood and I could not lose her. Again we climbed a dazzling cloud, and viewed from there everything on earth seemed insignificant, even lies and deception.
3.
The sailing season was upon us and, after a winter of laboring to raise Himera’s walls, the men of Phocaea were restless, sniffing the winds and studying the heavenly portents. Dionysius had launched a new ship and both the penteconters had been caulked and tarred tighter than ever. There was not an oar, a rope or a knothole that Dionysius had not inspected with his own eyes. In the evening the sailors were already sharpening their light weapons and the marines, grown fat over the winter, were struggling to don their breastplates and cuirasses of bronze scales and piercing new holes in their straps. The oarsmen were singing rowdy songs of farewell, while the men who had married Himeran women in the autumn were beginning to wonder whether it would, after all, be wise to subject a frail woman to the dangers of the sea. And so the women, despite their tears and pleading, were to remain behind in Himera.
But Krinippos decreed that every wedded man must provide his wife with funds in accordance with his position on the ship, thirty drachmas for an oar and one hundred drachmas for a sword. In addition, every Himeran woman, whether single or wedded, who had become pregnant during the winter was to receive ten silver drachmas from Dionysius’ treasure.
Enraged by such extortionate demands, the sailors gathered in the market place to scream that Krinippos was the most thankless tyrant and the greediest human they had ever known.
“Are we the only men in Himera?” they wailed. “After all, your own symbol is the cock, and it is not our fault if we were contaminated by your city’s whoredom. All winter we have labored like slaves for you, and by night were so exhausted that we could only fall into bed. It is surely not our fault if the city’s maidens-yes, and matrons too- crept in beside us.”
But Krinippos was merciless. “The law is the law, and my word is the law in Himera. But willingly I grant you permission to take your wives with you and also those maidens whom you have made pregnant. The choice is yours.”
During the confusion Dionysius stood apart and made no attempt to defend his men. He still had to obtain water and supplies for the ships and above all the treasure from Krinippos’ stone vaults. As the men stormed about the market place, tearing their clothes in rage, he studied each shrewdly.
Suddenly he clutched the arm of the noisiest rower. “What is that mark on your back?”
The man glanced over his shoulder and explained eagerly, “It is a holy mark that will protect me in battle and cost only one drachma.”
A group of men clustered around Dionysius, each anxious to show his own holy crescent. Angrily Dionysius asked, “How many of you have such a mark and who made them?”
More than half the men had hastened to obtain the charm and the wounds had not yet healed, for the seer had but recently arrived in Himera. With a sharp knife he had shaped the crescent on the edge of the left shoulder blade, painted it with holy indigo, covered it with holy ashes and finally spat holy spittle on it.
“Bring forth the seer that I may study his own shoulder blade,” commanded Dionysius. But the seer who but a few minutes earlier had been drawing holy symbols on his tablet in a corner of the market place had suddenly disappeared, nor could he be found anywhere in the city.
That evening Dionysius came to see us with the chief helmsman of his large ship. “We are in grave danger because of that blue mark,” he said. “Krinippos will come here tonight to discuss the matter. Let us say nothing of our own affairs and merely listen to him.”
Dorieus explained eagerly, “My plans are now ready. I am glad that you, Dionysius, have decided to join forces with me so that we no longer have to compete for leadership.”
Dionysius sighed patiently. “That is so. But do not breathe a word about Segesta in Krinippos’ presence or he will not permit us to sail. Can’t we agree that I will have command at sea and you on land?”
“That may be best,” conceded Dorieus after a moment. “But when we go ashore we will have no further use for the ships, so I will have them burned.”
Dionysius nodded but with averted head. Mikon asked curiously, “Why are we so concerned about that blue mark and a charlatan who earns his living by deceiving susceptible sailors?”
Dionysius sent the helmsman to watch that no women crept behind the drapes to listen, then explained, “A Carthaginian ship has been sighted outside Himera. Presumably it is a courier ship whose task is to inform the Carthaginian fleet of our departure.”
“But Himera is not at war with the Phoenicians,” I protested. “On the contrary, Krinippos is a friend of Carthage. What has that to do with the seer or the mark?”
Dionysius touched the lower edge of my left shoulder blade with his thick forefinger and smiled a twisted smile. “Just there is the spot where the Carthaginian sacrificial priest begins skinning a pirate alive. The head, hands and feet he leaves untouched so that the victim may live for days. That is how Carthage punishes piracy.
“Yes,” he continued, “we have been discovered. The Carthaginians know that our loot is not from the battle at Lade, and for that reason we are no longer safe anywhere at sea. They have probably told their allies the Etruscans about us, too, although that does not matter much since we already know that they will not allow us to sail through their sea.”
Mikon, who had been drinking wine since morning, began to tremble. “I am not a coward,” he said, “but I am weary of the sea and with your permission, Dionysius, I shall remain behind in Himera.”
Dionysius roared with laughter and clapped him on the shoulder. “Stay if you wish. Nothing worse will happen than that some day Krinippos will be compelled to surrender you to the Phoenicians who will nail your skin to the sea gate at Carthage. Their spy has most certainly memorized our faces as well as those of our ablest helmsmen, for the Phoenicians are not thinking only of today but ten years hence in the event that we succeed in reaching Massilia.”