“You will not regret your decision, Turms!” cried Xenodotos. “And don’t fear for yourself. I inquired about you in Ephesus. The King does not bear a grudge against you for burning the temple of Cybele. On the contrary, your crime agrees with his policy perfectly by obligating him to an unexpiated war against Athens. As far as you are concerned it is forgotten and wiped away.”
But I said morosely, “My crime is a matter between me and the gods. I do not seek forgiveness of humans.”
Understanding my pride he easily turned the conversation to other important matters. “You understand the conditions better than I and know what to do. If you need Persian gold you will have it. Later you will be rewarded personally for every Tyrrhenian warship and every Etruscan soldier who joins the Carthaginian expedition to conquer Himera, regardless of the outcome.”
“I have no desire for Persian gold,” I told him. “I have enough for my needs. It is wiser not to circulate Persian gold in these lands, for the Etruscans are suspicious and easily hurt. It is better merely to convince them that the future of their seafaring cities depends on it.”
Xenodotos shook his head in disbelief. “You are stupid and politically unenlightened, Turms. Warfare requires gold first, last and always. Everything else follows logically. But do as you please. Perhaps the King’s favor will some day mean more to you than gold.”
“I don’t aspire to be in the good graces of the King,” I said stubbornly. “I don’t agree with you otherwise, either. Gold does not decide wars, but rather the discipline of the men and training in the use of weapons. One who is hungry and lean will defeat one who is wealthy and fat.”
Xenodotos burst into laughter. “Undoubtedly I have grown stouter and walking makes me perspire, but my knowledge has increased and I believe that I have become cleverer than I would have by running in the Siccanian forest and sleeping on the bare ground. I can always hire disciplined soldiers to protect me from the lean Greeks. Whosoever grasps a sword himself is mad. The wise man makes others fight and himself watches the outcome of the battle from a secure place.”
His cynical words made me decide firmly to accompany the Etruscans to Himera and to fight at their side even though bloodshed had become repugnant to me. I felt that I owed it to them if I succeeded in inducing them to participate in a distant war. But I did not tell Xenodotos of my decision, for he would have considered it laughable.
Still smiling, he took from his neck a heavy gold chain, hung it around my neck and asked, “At least take this as a memento of me and my friendship. All the pieces are of the same size and they do not bear the Persian stamp. You can remove them one at a time according to need.”
The chain weighed around my neck like a fetter but I could not return it without hurting him. Something in me warned me that I was committing myself to something that did not concern me, but I had spent a purposeless life for so long a time that I yearned for significant deeds.
4.
Xenodotos remained in Rome while I journeyed to Tarquinia to meet Lars Arnth Velthuru. Despite his youth he immediately understood the importance of the matter and the opportunities that it offered for reviving waning Etruscan sea power and crushing Greek competition.
He said, “The inland cities have young and ambitious men who are dissatisfied with the old. There are also hardy shepherds and farmers who dare place their lives at stake to win more with one blow in a war than they could hope to obtain by a lifetime of serving others. Although our large islands can hardly release their vessels, which are needed to guard the mines, the iron families of Populonia and Vetulonia will realize what is for their own good, and Tarquinia will provide us with at least ten warships.”
He took me to see his father, Aruns Velthuru, who respected tradition to such a degree that he did not permit himself to be called a Lucumo but had Tarquinia ruled by a council instead. A more august man I had never met. Despite his position he received me courteously and understandingly once I had reached his presence. With the aid of a map I explained the plan for the Persian king’s military expedition and repeated Xenodotos’ contention that a more opportune moment for vanquishing the Greeks would hardly arrive.
He listened carefully, his face slender and ageless, and said finally, “I do not believe that it is the gods’ intention that only one man or one nation rule the entire world. Nations keep one another in balance. They grow and progress as the result of mutual competition. All nations are equal and human suffering is the same, no matter whether the person be Etruscan, Greek, or black. Nations rise and recede in cycles and each nation’s growth, blossoming and fading has been measured. Etruscan cities are no better or more important than Greek cities, although we perhaps know more about the gods than the other peoples. A human can redeem ten additional years from the gods and a nation or city one hundred years, but by more than that none can prolong existence.”
His words of wisdom made a deep impression on me, but Lars Arnth became impatient and said, “My father, you are old and do not understand the new times as well as we who are younger. The question of Greek influence on land and sea is for us a matter of life and death. If Carthage feels that it is compelled to go to war, we must support Carthage. And if we support Carthage we must do so with all our resources.”
His father sighed and said, “You are still very young, my son Arnth. Whosoever clutches the sword dies by the sword. We no longer offer human sacrifices to the gods.”
Arnth clenched his slender fingers and gritted his teeth, but bowed his proud head before his father who then smiled the beautiful, sad smile of an old Etruscan.
“This is a political matter and as such must be decided by the council. If you consider it so important, you yourself may journey to Volsinii in my stead in September. Why should I become involved in something that I cannot prevent?”
Thus did Lars Aruns elevate his son to the regency of Tarquinia. After all, his tomb was completed and decorated with the eternal paintings of the artist Aruns, and he had no wish to redeem from the gods an additional ten years of life, which for a ruler can prove more burdensome than joyous.
After the conversation had had such unexpected results, Lars Aruns rose, placed his hands lightly on my shoulders and said, “I am happy to have seen you, Turms. Remember me when you enter into your kingdom.”
His words surprised Lars Arnth as much as me, although Lars Alsir had once used the same words in Himera, but I considered them merely an old greeting which was used as a special indication of friendship. Only later did I realize that old Lars Aruns Velthuru knew and recognized me and considered me a herald of the gods in that matter. Thus it was that he relinquished his power to his son rather than become involved in a matter which was distasteful to him.
No longer did I have to struggle on Xenodotos’ behalf, for Lars Arnth took the matter as his own and journeyed himself and sent his friends to the distant Etruscan cities to prepare the ground. I, however, decided not to go to the holy cities but remained in Tarquinia to await the decision of the league.
At the sacred celebration twelve days were devoted to the gods, seven days to internal political matters and three days to problems of foreign policy. The decision was that each city could decide for itself whether it wished to aid Carthage or not, and whether to do so in the name of the city or merely by enlisting volunteers. The holy Lucumones of both Volterra and Volsinii announced immediately mat their cities would not permit even the raising of voluntary recruits. But they were inland cities, and in such a matter the decision of the coastal cities was of greater importance.