The Etruscan

3.

I awakened early in the morning to the unearthly crowing of Himera’s hundreds of cocks. My ears roared, my temples throbbed, and at first I didn’t know where or who I was. When my eyes cleared I realized that I was lying on a couch in Tanakil’s banquet room with a crushed wreath on my head and a colored woolen mantle as my only covering. The fine shirt was at my feet and I saw that it had lip coloring on it. My memory had fled and I no longer knew what had happened to me, but on another couch I saw Mikon, the physician of Cos, stretched out with his mouth open and snoring loudly.

The girls and the flute player had disappeared. I rubbed my eyes and remembered as in a dream the touch of the girls’ smooth limbs against mine. There was a bad taste in my mouth and the disorder in the room was even worse. Fragments of expensive vases and cups were strewn over the floor, and in stumbling about we had overturned the Phoenician household god. The ceaseless crowing of the cocks hurt my ears and I decided never again to touch mint-flavored wine.

“Mikon,” I said, “wake up. Wake up and see how we have respected the hospitality of the finest woman in Himera.”

I shook him awake and he sat up, holding his head. I found a bronze mirror, glanced into it, and extended it to Mikon. He looked long at his reflection and finally asked in a thick voice, “Who is that dissolute man staring at me out of that bloated face?”

He sighed deeply. Then, suddenly overcome by realization, he cried out, “Turms, my friend, we are lost! At least I have drawn down upon myself the most fearful curse, for if I remember correctly I talked well into the night and revealed all the secrets of the consecrated to you. I remember that you tried to stop me but I clutched your arm and compelled you to listen.”

“Don’t worry,” I reassured him. “Probably no harm has been done for I can’t remember a single word you said. But if our awakening is unpleasant, brother Mikon, think of the awakening that awaits Dorieus. I’m afraid that in his drunkenness he has brought dishonor not only to our hostess and himself, but also to us and even to Dionysius who is ultimately responsible for our behavior.”

“Where is he?” asked Mikon, looking around with blood-shot eyes.

“I don’t know and I don’t even want to know. I certainly will not search the inner rooms, for who knows what dreadful sight might confront me? The best thing we can do is to creep silently out of the house. I hardly think that Dorieus would be anxious to see any friends today.”

Cautiously stepping over the drunken slave in the doorway, we went outside. The sun’s golden rays were climbing, the cocks were crowing in every Himeran house, and the autumn air smelled fresh. We bathed in the hot waters of the pool and found our own clothes, cleaned and pleated, beside our weapons in the entrance hall. In mutual agreement we returned to the banquet room and drained the wine vessel to regain our courage before setting off across the city.

As the residents were kindling their cooking fires we met many of our unfortunate companions, groaning and holding their heads. We joined them and by the time we had stepped through the city gates there were almost a hundred of us, no one feeling himself any better than the others.

Dionysius was laboring over the ships, aided by a long row of pack donkeys and oxen. He cursed us in fury, for he and his helmsmen had spent the night at Krinippos’ house and had had only water to drink and pea soup to eat. Lashing out at his ailing men with his rope, he put them to work unloading the treasure and stuffing it into sacks, barrels and chests. Mikon and I joined them in sheer humility although such work was not ours to do.

The most difficult task was the unloading of the large galley which had sunk deep into the mud. Not all the men and oxen could free it, nor did even the windlass constructed of heavy logs by Krinippos’ technicians succeed in raising the heavy vessel. The only solution was to lighten it by diving for some of the cargo. The coral divers of Himera would have undertaken the dangerous task willingly but Dionysius had no desire to reveal our treasure. He said that it was only right that his own lechers and drunkards should clear their heads and cool their limbs in the refreshing sea water.

While some of us sorted and counted the booty on both penteconters, weighted baskets were lowered into the sunken ship from small boats and the best divers among us made their way down the ropes. There in the darkness they filled the baskets with the loot and came up only for air. Shivering with cold and fear they huddled in the boats until Dionysius thrashed them into the water again with his rope. On that day many an unfortunate cursed the diving skill that he had acquired in lonia as a boy.

Mikon and I were given the task of recording the contents of the sacks and barrels on which Dionysius himself inscribed the numbers until he ran out of them. Finally he was content merely to seal the containers with a golden Persian signet without keeping account of what we wrote.

“In the name of Hermes,” he declared, “I am plagued by the idea that I may be robbed but even at the risk of that I would rather keep my brain clear than be involved in lists and figures.”

By evening both penteconters had been emptied. Everyone smiled when Dionysius finally called a halt for the day and gave us permission to return to the hospitality of the Himeran homes.

But our elation soon gave way to bitter disappointment, for Dionysius ordered each of us in turn to take off his clothes. From the folds of the garments he plucked surprising amounts of jewelry, gold coins and other objects of value. A few had even hidden gold and gems in their hair, and from the mouth of one mumbling rower Dionysius produced a golden fish. The men cried out in dismay at one another’s shocking dishonesty.

I relinquished a heavy golden chain voluntarily upon seeing what awaited me, and Mikon reached into an armpit for a golden winged lion. Embittered by Dionysius’ greed and disillusioned by our own dishonesty, we began to demand the right to inspect Dionysius’ clothes in return, for we had noticed that he had begun to move with increasing clumsiness and clanking.

Dionysius flushed. “Who is your commander?” he roared. “Who enabled you to win undying fame at Lade, made you wealthy and brought you safely to this new land? Whom can you trust if not me?”

So moved was he by his own words that his beard began to quiver and tears came into his eyes. “The cruelty and thanklessness of man! Everyone measures others, even me, by his own corrupted standards.”

“Close your mouth!” we demanded bitterly. “As our commander you certainly are not the best of us but rather the worst. Indeed we wouldn’t even respect you if you did not try to take advantage of us.”

Bellowing and laughing, we fell upon him, pushed him to the ground and tore off his clothes. Around his waist, beneath his armpits and between his thighs he had suspended pouches from which we poured forth a stream of coins, jewelry, signets, chains and armbands equaling the collective loot of all the others.

Seeing the heap, we laughed loudly, pulled him to his feet again and slapped his broad shoulders. “What a commander you are! Truly you are the cleverest of us all and we will never give you up.”

After prolonged argument it was decided that each would be permitted to retain whatever he had stolen. Only the naked divers complained.

“Must we do without anything,” they cried, “although we worked the hardest?”

Dionysius swore at them. “No one is better than anyone else, my greedy ones. Go back and produce whatever you have hidden in the water. If someone is left with empty hands he has only himself to blame.”

The divers blinked at one another and at us and then returned to the shore. They plunged into the water and began rolling aside the stones under its surface. Soon they came up with a wealth of objects, each larger and more valuable than those which we had been able to conceal in our clothes. But we did not begrudge them the loot after their efforts in the darkness of the ship among the octopi, the crabs and the stinging medusae.

“Let us offer a fair share of our loot to the Himeran gods,” suggested Dionysius, “in gratitude for the peaceful and good-natured way that we have begun the division of our spoils.”

That, we felt, was right and just, so we consecrated some copper tripods, copper pots and a bronze Phoenician ram to the various Himeran temples, and a Persian shield to the temple of the Carthaginian merchants.