He covered his eyes for a moment, then his face softened and he smiled. “Don’t be afraid, Arsinoe. I shall take you under my protection and all will be well. The child will not bring you shame but rather glory. Tell me, do you think that it will be a boy or a girl?”
Arsinoe said shyly that one could not know in advance, but that she felt almost certain it was to be a boy.
I remember little about the birth except that it happened on the rawest night of the year and that the boy came into the world at dawn while a cold rain poured down on the land. Arsinoe nursed the child herself, for despite her apparent frailness the goddess blessed her with an abundance of milk. The boy himself was strong and cried lustily from the very beginning. I was so relieved that I wanted to name him immediately, but Dorieus said, “There is no hurry. Let us wait for the right omen.”
Arsinoe agreed. “Don’t hurt Dorieus by choosing a name hastily. It will be better for us and for the boy also if Dorieus names him.”
I was not happy to have Dorieus interfere in matters that were not his concern. He seemed as bemused as I, watched the child with interest and even gave an offering of thanks in the temple which he had robbed from the Phoenicians’ god of fire and dedicated to Herakles.
As spring came, with its bright rains and violent storms that felled trees in the forests, Dorieus became increasingly gloomy. He began to stare at me peculiarly, and frequently I would come upon him watching the child and talking with Arsinoe. As soon as I entered they would stop and Arsinoe would begin chattering about something foolish.
With the approach of the full moon I grew restless, had bad dreams and began to walk in my sleep, something which had never happened to me before. I felt that Artemis was haunting me and tried many ways to avoid leaving the room at night, but nothing helped. Most alarming was the fact that Arsinoe’s cat always followed me, slipping out of the door behind me. I would awaken in the middle of the street when it rubbed its head against my bare leg.
Once again I awakened in the middle of the night with the moon shining on my face. I saw that I was standing by the pen of the holy dog Krimisos and that on the stone step sat the beggar girl whom Tanakil had called from the crowd to care for the dog. Chin in hand she stared at the moon as though under its spell. I was touched to think that someone else was awake because of the moon, even though that someone was but a little girl. During the yearly celebration she had been legally married to the holy dog in accordance with tradition, had baked a wedding cake and had shared it with the dog. Since then she had lived around the pen and, like the slaves and servants, had been fed from the king’s kettles. She had nowhere else to go, for she was a lowborn girl and had lost her parents.
“Why are you awake, litle girl?” I asked, sitting beside her on the stone step.
“I am not a little girl,” she replied. “I am ten years old. Besides, I am the wife of the dog Krimisos and a holy woman.”
“What is your name, holy woman?”
“Egesta,” she said proudly. “You should know that, Turms. But my real name is Hanna. That is why people throw stones at me on the street and shout insults.”
“Why are you awake?” I asked again.
She looked at me in distress. “Krimisos is ill. He just lies still and breathes heavily and doesn’t eat anything. I think he’s too old and doesn’t want to live any longer. If he dies, the people will blame me.”, She showed me the bites on her thin arms, sobbed and said, “He doesn’t even want me to touch him any more, although we were such good friends. I think that his ears are sore, for he often shakes his head. But if I touch him he bites.”
The girl opened the door and showed me the holy old dog panting heavily on its straw, an untouched bowl of water by its muzzle. It opened its eyes but did not even have the strength to bare its fangs when Arsinoe’s cat slipped like a shadow into the pen and began to circle the holy dog. The cat thereupon lapped at the water, was reassured, rubbed its side against the dog’s neck and gently began to lick its ear. The dog permitted it to do so.
“This is a miracle!” I cried. “It must be that holy animals recognize each other. The cat is so holy that in Egypt any person who harms one is instantly killed. Why it is holy I do not know.”
The girl said in amazement, “My, husband is ill and suffering and I cannot comfort him but a cat can. Is it your cat?”
“No,” I replied, “it belongs to my wife, Arsinoe.”
“You mean Istafra,” corrected the girl, “the priestess who fled from Eryx. Is she supposed to be your wife?”
“Of course she is. We even have a son. You must have seen him.”
The girl stifled a titter with her palm, then became serious again. “Is he really your son? It is Dorieus who carries him in his lap while the woman follows, holding onto the king’s robe. But she is a beautiful woman, that I do not deny.”
I laughed. “Dorieus is our friend and fond of the boy since he has not an heir of his own. But both the boy and the wife are mine.”
The girl shook her head in disbelief, then looked at me. “If I were more beautiful, would you take me in your lap and hold me close? I feel like crying.”
Her thin girl’s face moved me. I touched her cheek and said, “Of course I will take you in my lap and comfort you. I myself am often unhappy even though I have a wife and son, or perhaps because of that.”
I lifted her onto my lap, she pressed her tearstained cheek against my chest, wound her arms around my neck and sighed deeply. “It feels so good. No one has held me like this since my mother died. I like you more than Dorieus or that bloated Mikon. When I asked him to look at the dog he said he took care only of people and wanted to know who would pay him. Yes,” she repeated, “I like you very much because you are good to me. Doesn’t this make you think of anything?”
“No,” I said absently.
Suddenly she squeezed me hard. “Turms, I am hard-working and willing to learn, I can stand beatings and I eat little. If the dog dies, won’t you take me under your protection, if only to care for your son?”
I looked at her in surprise. “I can talk to Arsinoe about it,” I promised finally. “Do you know how to take care of children?”
“I have even taken care of a prematurely born boy and kept him alive on goat’s milk when his own mother spurned him,” she said. “I can spin and weave, wash clothes, prepare food, and prophesy from chicken bones. I could be very useful to you but I would rather be beautiful.”
I looked at her dark face and bright girl’s eyes and explained gently, “Every young woman is beautiful if she wants to be. You should learn to bathe like the Greeks, to keep your clothes clean and comb your hair.”
She drew back. “I don’t even have a comb,” she confessed, “and this is my only dress. For the festivities I was washed and combed, anointed and clothed, but the festive garments were taken away as soon as the wedding cake had been eaten. I cannot go naked to the well to wash this.”
“Tomorrow I shall bring you a comb and one of my wife’s old garments,” I promised. But I forgot.
The next day was oppressively hot, as though it were midsummer, the sun was scorching and the air still. The dogs howled restlessly in their pens and many broke loose, fleeing from the city. Flocks of birds swirled up from the forest and flew toward the blue mountains. Tanakil’s sons came to consult their mother, withdrawing with her inside four walls.
Then, before the hour of rest, Dorieus summoned Arsinoc and had her bring the boy.
“It is time for the goddess to appear,” he said harshly. “I have listened to excuses too long. Prove that you are still a priestess and show your skill. You must decide whether or not I launch a military expedition against Eryx tomorrow.”
I tried to discourage him. “Are you mad or just drunk, Dorieus? Surely you wouldn’t deliberately start a war with Carthage?”
Arsinoe whispered to me, “Don’t say anything rash that might excite him. I’ll try to calm him for he trusts me.”