“Is it a lie, Turms, if one keeps secret what one knows?” she asked, moving the flower with her brown toes.
“It probably depends on the person himself,” I said. “I myself know that I would be lying to Arsinoe if I let her believe that the cat disappeared and did not tell her that I killed it in rage. But sometimes it is kindest to refrain from saying what will hurt another, even though the lie will burn one’s heart.”
Absently she touched her heart, listened to it for a moment and conceded, “Yes, Turms, the lie is burning my heart, and I feel its sting.” Then she smiled oddly, tilted her head and exclaimed, “How gloriously the lie burns my heart because of you, Turms!”
Quickly she ran away. We returned to the cave by separate paths and did not speak of the matter again. Arsinoe mourned her cat but she had enough to do with the two children. Nor did she mourn the cat for its own sake but from sheer vanity, since she had lost what no one else among the Siccani possessed.
Primarily I was troubled by a gnawing restlessness and the omens which I was as yet unable to interpret. I knew that I had to depart soon but had no idea in which direction to go. I didn’t even have the means with which to return to civilization where one could purchase hospitality if one had no friends. My only friend was Lars Alsir, if he still lived in Himera. But a return to Himera would have meant certain death since both Arsinoe and I were known there. Besides, I was already indebted to Lars Alsir and the thought of the debt troubled me.
I realized that I was just as poor as when Tanakil had banished us from Segesta, for like the Siccani I possessed only the clothes I wore and my weapons.
In my anxiety I reproached the succoring goddess, saying “Holy virgin, the Amazons hung their breasts on your garments as offerings. You have succored me and my family so that we have not wanted for food or clothing. But you yourself appeared to me in Ephesus as Hecate and promised that I would never lack earthly riches whenever I needed them. Remember your promise, for now I need gold and silver.”
A few days later, near the full of the moon, Artemis appeared to me in a dream as Hecate. I saw her three terrifying faces, she was waving a trident and a black dog was barking furiously at her feet. My whole body was enveloped in cold sweat when I awakened, for even in a kindly mood Hecate is an awesome sight. But the trident confirmed my belief that I must sail across the sea.
I was filled with such elation that I could no longer sleep but went out into the forest. By the sacrificial rock I met several Siccanians who were looking and listening in every direction. They claimed that strangers were approaching.
“Let us go toward them so that we will surely meet,” I suggested. “Perhaps they are bringing salt and cloth.”
On a bank of the river we found an Etruscan merchant who had brought salt in a small sailboat to Panormos, where he paid his taxes, and from there transported the salt by donkey to the forests of the Siccani. He was accompanied by three slaves and servants. They had built a fire for the night to protect themselves from the wild beasts and to indicate their peaceful intentions. They had likewise ornamented the donkeys and sacks of salt with fir branches and themselves slept with a fir branch clutched tightly in one hand. The Siccanian forest had a frightening reputation although the Siccani had not within the memory of man killed any merchant who ventured into their territory under the protection of a fir branch.
When dawn broke I could hardly contain my impatience, for beside the Tyrrhenian merchant I saw a strange man sleeping under a beautifully loomed woolen mantle. His beard was curly and the fragrance of fine oils carried to my nostrils. I could not understand what such a man could be doing in the Siccanian forest with a lowly merchant.
I watched him while the day grew lighter and the fish began to leap in the calm waters of the river. Finally the stranger turned in his sleep, awakened, and sat upright with a cry of terror. Seeing the Siccanians with their striped faces sitting silently by the fire he screamed again and reached for die weapon beside him.
The merchant awakened instantly and reassured the man, while the Siccanians rose and disappeared silently into the forest as though the earth had swallowed them, leaving me to bargain with the merchant as was their custom. Nevertheless, I knew that they saw and heard all I did even though we could not see them. Their habit of painting stripes on their faces enabled them to remain invisible, for at first sight one would believe an immobile Siccanian to be but the shadows of reeds or bushes.
When the stranger arose, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, I noticed that he was wearing loose trousers. I knew then that he had come far and that he served the Persian king. He was still young, his skin was white, and he soon donned a broad-brimmed straw hat to shield his face from the heat of the sun.
He asked in amazement, “Was I dreaming, or did I really see trees walking away from the campfire? At least I saw a strange god in my dream and was so alarmed that I awakened to my own cry.”
In his bewilderment he spoke Greek, which the Etruscan did not understand. Not wishing to reveal that I was not a Siccanian, I replied to him in Greek mixed with Elymian and Siccanian words.
“How far have you come, stranger?” I asked. “Your clothes are odd. What are you doing in our forest? You are certainly not a merchant. Are you a priest or a seer, or are you fulfilling a vow?”
“I am fulfilling a vow,” he replied quickly, happy that I spoke comprehensible Greek. The Etruscan understood little of what the man said, although he had permitted the other to accompany him for payment, as I learned. I pretended to lose interest in the stranger and began to talk to the merchant, tasting his salt and looking at his cloth. With a wink he indicated that he had concealed iron objects in the sacks of salt. He had presumably bribed the customs man of Panormos, for the Carthaginian tax collectors were not much concerned with the Elymian ban against selling iron to the Siccani.
With the Tyrrhenian I spoke the jargon of the sea, which contained Greek, Phoenician and Etruscan words. Because of this he believed me to be a Siccanian who as a boy had been caught and sold as a galley slave and who had returned to the forest at the first opportunity. Finally I asked him about the stranger.
He shook his head scornfully. “He is just a mad Greek who is wandering from east to west to familiarize himself with the different countries and peoples. He is buying useless objects, and I think he is interested in Siccanian flint knives and wooden bowls. Sell him whatever trash you wish so long as you pay me my commission. He doesn’t know how to bargain and it’s no sin to deceive him. After all, he is a pampered man who doesn’t know how to dispose of his money.”
The stranger watched us suspiciously and when he caught my eye explained hastily, “I am not a lowborn man. You will benefit more by listening to me than by robbing me.” Tempting me as one would a barbarian, he jingled his money pouch.
I kissed my hand, not from respect toward him but in gratitude to the goddess who as Hecate had not deserted me. But I shook my head and replied, “We Siccanians do not use money.”
He spread his hands. “Then choose what you will from among the merchant’s goods and I will pay him. He understands the value of money.”
“I cannot accept gifts before I know what is going on,” I said gloomily. “I suspect you because of the garments you wear. I have never seen any like them before.”
“I am a servant of the Persian king,” he explained. “That is why I wear these garments which are called trousers. I come from Susa, which is his city, and I sailed from lonia as the companion of Messina’s former tyrant, Skythes. But the people of Messina apparently do not want Skythes, preferring to obey Anaxilaos of Rhegion instead. So I am wandering around Sicily for my own pleasure and to increase my knowledge of the various peoples.”