The Etruscan

5.

I awakened in the middle of the night to a paralyzing agony, as though the venom of a snake were spreading through my veins. At the moment of awakening I knew and remembered everything that had happened, and I knew that the goddess had seized me in her power. She had made me love a frivolous woman whose words I could not believe and whose very body lied in my embrace.

But even as I thought the worst of her I saw distinctly her changing face and slanting brows, and her eyes grew dark before me. Perhaps she had experienced a thousand men. Perhaps she was a slut, as Tanakil claimed. But at the very thought of her my mind was torn by desire, tenderness and longing, and I knew that every moment apart from her was mortally dreadful.

I staggered to the courtyard and drank some cold water from a clay container hanging by the door. The sounds had stilled and the lamps had been extinguished in the city. The firmament was full of stars and the new moon, a cruel sickle, threatened me from the edge of the sky.

I went into the stable and in a basket found the pegs belonging to Tanakil’s travel tent. Then I crept through the night to the gate of the temple. It was closed, but the guard was not on the wall and no sound came from within. I circled the wall until I found a suitable place, thrust one tent peg between the stones, rose onto it and then thrust in another. In that manner I built steps for myself and reached the top of the wall. Crawling on my belly I finally found the guard’s stairs and descended into the inner courtyard.

Heaps of rubble left by the storm were still there. Dimly I saw the gleam of the marble peristyle around the fountain and groped my way to it.

I prostrated myself by the fountain and prayed, “You foam-born, by your eternal fountain, heal me of the agony of my love. You kindled it and only you can extinguish it.”

By leaning over the edge I managed to touch the surface of the water with a willow twig and thus got a few drops into my mouth. Carefully I tossed a silver coin into the fountain. The light of the new moon brightened and the goddess Artemis watched me ominously from the sky. But I had no regret. I was not afraid of her fatal arrows, and around my neck was the moonstone which shielded me from madness.

“Come,” I called, “appear before me, you most glorious of deities- without a priest, without the mediation of a mortal woman, though I burn to ashes at sight of you.”

From the depths of the fountain I heard a gurgle as though someone had replied to me. Looking into the water I thought I saw ripples. I began to feel dizzy and had to sit up and rub my eyes to remain conscious.

For a long time nothing happened. Then a shadowy body of light began to assume shape before me. It was winged and naked but so immaterial that I could see the columns through it. She was fairer than all mortal women and even Arsinoe’s living beauty was but the shadow of this body of light in mortal clay.

“Aphrodite, Aphrodite!” I whispered. “Is it you, goddess?”

She shook her head sadly and looked at me with reproachful eyes. “Do you not know me? No, I see that you do not. But some day I will enfold you in my arms and bear you away on powerful wings.”

“Who are you then, that I may know you?” I asked.

She smiled a radiant smile that pierced my heart. “I am your guardian spirit,” she said. “I know you and am bound to you. Pray not to earthly gods nor surrender yourself to their power. You yourself are immortal if you but dare admit it.”

She shook her beautiful head forlornly. “Images of you will be sculptured,” she said, “and offerings made to you. I am within you and of you until that final moment when you recognize me and I kiss the mortal breath from your mouth. Oh, Turms, bind not yourself to earthly deities. Both Artemis and Aphrodite are but jealous, capricious and malevolent spirits of the earth and air. They have their power and their sorcery and they are both competing for you. But neither the moon nor sun will give you immortality, merely the seat of oblivion. And e-gain you must return, again you will bind me to the pain of your birth fad to your living, greedy human body.”

My mortal eyes reveled in her radiance. Then doubt crept into my mind. “You are only a vision,” I said, “like other visions. Why should you appear to me just at this moment if you have accompanied me all my life?”

“You are in danger of binding yourself,” she explained. “Never before have you wanted to do that. Now you are ready to do so for the sake of a mortal woman, for foam and sensual pleasure. You came here to bind yourself to Aphrodite although you are the son of the storm. If you only had sufficient faith in yourself, Turms, you would know better.”

I replied stubbornly, “That woman, Arsinoe, is blood of my blood. Without her I cannot and will not live. Never before have I yearned for anything so terribly, and I am ready to bind myself to whichever goddess will give her to me for the duration of this life. I do not even ask for another life. So tempt me not, you unknown one, as fair as you are.”

“Do you really think I am beautiful?” she asked and her wings trembled. Then, angered by her own vanity, she rebuked me sharply. “Do not try to confuse me, Turms. I wish I were like those exasperating earth deities so that I might assume a woman’s body if only for a moment to box your ears. You are so wicked and so difficult to protect.”

“Then why don’t you disappear?” I demanded. “I called the goddess, not you. You are free to abandon me if you wish. I have no need of you.”

The body of light quivered with rage. Then mournfully she bowed her head and said submissively, “Let it be as you wish, Turms, but for the sake of your immortality swear that you will not bind yourself. Even without it you will get whatever you want. You will get it through your own power if you but believe in yourself. You will even get that detestable bitch Arsinoe. But do not imagine that I want to be with you when you embrace that hateful body of clay. Artemis also has appeared to you and promised you earthly riches. Let them bribe you if you wish but under no circumstances bind yourself to them. You will not be indebted to them for their gifts. Accept whatever is given to you on earth, for sacrifices are made to immortals. Remember that always.”

Her speech quickened, her wings flashed. “Turms, you are more than a human if only you will believe it. Fear nothing either here or beyond. Turms, the greatest courage is in believing oneself to be more than just a human. However tired, however dejected you are, never succumb to the temptation to bind yourself to the earth deities. Rejoice in your wicked body if you wish. It does not concern me. But do not bind yourself.”

As I listened to her convincing words I was filled with courage. I must win Arsinoe through my own strength, and the strength was in me. I had been consecrated by the thunderbolt and that consecration sufficed for my lifetime.

She read my thoughts, her body grew dazzling and her face radiant. “I must go, Turms, my own. But remember me sometimes, if only for a moment. Yearn for me even a little. You must realize why I long to enfold you in my arms when you die.”

She faded before my eyes until the marble columns were again visible through her body. But I no longer doubted her reality.

An inexpressible joy swelled through me. I raised my hand in farewell and cried, “I thank you, guardian spirit! I believe you. And I will yearn for you as I will never yearn for any mortal woman. The longer I live, the more deeply I will yearn for you. You probably are my only true love, and if you are, try to understand me. Then, in my moment of greatest longing, as I embrace a mortal woman, I will perhaps be embracing you a little, too.”

She disappeared, and I was alone again by Aphrodite’s fountain in Eryx. I laid my hand on the marble floor. It was cold to my touch and I breathed deeply. I knew that I lived and existed and that I had not merely dreamed. In the silence of the night, under the starry sky, in the threatening light of the moon’s sickle, I sat by the ancient fountain of the goddess and felt a void within me.

At that moment a door creaked, I saw a light, and a priest came toward me across the courtyard, a Phoenician lamp in his hand. He threw its beams on me, recognized my face and demanded angrily, “How have you come here and why did you awaken me in the midst of my dream, accursed stranger?”

With his arrival the poison of the goddess again crept into my blood and my passion inflamed me as though glowing threads were searing my skin.

“I came to meet her,” I said, “that priestess who appears in the temple and makes the foolish imagine that they have met the goddess.”

“What do you want of her?” the priest asked, frowning deeply.

But the frown did not frighten me. “I want her,” I declared. “The poison of the goddess came from her into my body and I cannot free myself of her.”

After he had glared at me lethally for a time the priest became disconcerted and the lamp began to tremble in his hand.

“That is blasphemy, stranger. Shall I summon the guards? I have the right to have you killed as a profaner of the temple.”

“Call the guards if you wish,” I said cheerfully. “Let them kill me. 1 am sure that it would add to the reputation of your temple.”

He looked at me suspiciously. “Who are you?”

“You should know that,” I replied arrogantly. “Didn’t the funeral pyie in the temple yard offer evidence? Didn’t you recognize me from thz storm which wiped the roofs from the houses and deposited rubbk before your temple? But you may examine me still more if you wish.”

He laughed hollowly, tossed something into the fountain with a splash and commanded, “Look into the fountain, stranger, that I may examine you.”

As he raised the lamp I leaned over the edge of the fountain. I saw expanding and contracting ripples and the reflection of the lamp in the black water. I stared into the fountain until the water grew calm, ros? and wiped my kness and asked, “What now?”

He stared at me in disbelief. “Did you really look into the fountain or were your eyes closed?”

“I saw the ripples in the water and the reflection of your lamp, that is all.”

He swung the lamp slowly back and forth. Then at last he said, “Comz with me to the temple.”

I thanked him and he walked before me, lamp in hand. The air wai so still that the flame did not even flicker. As I followed him I felt the chill of the night on my skin but my body was so hot with desire that I did not shiver. We entered the temple, he placed the lamp on the empty pedestal of the goddess and lowered himself onto a copper-legged seat.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“That woman, whatever her name is,” I replied with equal patience. “The one with the changing face. I myself call her Arsinoe because it amuses me to do so.”

“You have had a Scythian drink,” he said. “Sleep your head clear and then come back and seek forgiveness.”

“Babble as you will, old man. I want her and I shall have her. With or without the assistance of the goddess.”

The furrow between his brows deepened until it almost split his head. In the light of the Phoenician lamp he leered at me with evil eyes.

“For tonight?” he asked. “Perhaps it can be arranged if you are sufficiently rich and keep the matter to yourself. Let us agree on it. I am an old man and would avoid wrangling. Probably the goddess has touched you with madness since you can no longer answer for your deeds. How much do you offer?”

“For one night? Nothing. That I can have whenever I wish. No, old man, you don’t understand. I want her completely. I intend to take her with me and live with her until either she dies or I die.”

Convulsed with rage, he leaped to his feet. “You don’t know what you are saying! You may die sooner than you think.”

“Don’t waste your declining strength,” I laughed. “Examine me instead, so that you may realize that I am in earnest.”

He raised his hand in a gesture of conjuration and his eyes widened to the size of drinking cups. I would have feared them had not my power remained in me. I withstood his stare smilingly, until he suddenly pointed to the floor and exclaimed, “Behold the serpent!”

I looked down and involuntarily retreated, for a gigantic snake took shape before my eyes. It was the length of many men and the thickness of a thigh, and as it wriggled its skin glistened in a checkered design. It shaped itself into supple coils and raised its flat head toward me.

“Aye,” I said, “you are more powerful than I thought, old man. I have heard that such a serpent once lived in the gorge at Delphi and guarded the Omphalos.”

“Beware!” cried the priest threateningly.

Like lightning the snake rose upright and wound itself around my limbs until I was completely enveloped in its coils and its head swayed menacingly before my face. I felt its cold skin. Its weight was unbearable. Panic swept over me.

Then I laughed. “I will gladly play with you if you wish, priest. But I am not afraid. Not of subterranean, not of earthly, not even of celestial things. Least of all do I fear what is not even real. But I am willing to play these childish games with you through the night, if you are amused. Perhaps I myself could show you something amusing if I were to try.”

“Don’t,” he said, breathing heavily. He passed a hand before his eyes and the snake disappeared, although I still felt its heavy coils on my skin. I shook myself, rubbed my limbs and smiled.

“You are a powerful old man,” I admitted. “But don’t tire yourself because of me. Sit down while I show you something that you perhaps would not want to see.”

“Don’t,” he repeated. Trembling, he sank onto the seat. Again he was but an old man with sharp eyes and a furrow between his brows. After many deep breaths he asked in a completely changed voice, “Who are you, stranger?”

“If you don’t want to recognize me, I will gladly remain unknown,” I said.

“But you must realize that you are asking the impossible. Your very request blasphemes the goddess. Surely you don’t want to enrage her even though you dare provoke me, a powerless man.”

“I don’t want to enrage or provoke anyone,” I said amiably. “I am certainly not blaspheming the goddess. On the contrary. Don’t you realize, old man, that I am honoring the goddess by requesting her priestess for myself?”

Suddenly he began to weep. Covering his face with his hand he swayed back and forth. “The goddess has abandoned me,” he moaned. Wiping the tears from his beard he continued in a shrill voice, “You cannot be a human, although you are in a human guise! A human could not have resisted the spell of the snake. That gigantic serpent is the symbol of the earth, its weight and power. Whomever it fails to subdue cannot be a mortal.”

I took advantage of the situation and said, “To return to my request, it was a friendly request and certainly not a demand. I likewise try to avoid quarrels and because of it hope that this matter may be resolved through mutual understanding. But I am also ready to make demands. Then I, in turn, will be compelled to resort to strength.”

Again his voice became shrill. “Even if you are not mortal your request is unprecedented. How do you know whether that woman even wants to follow you?”

“She doesn’t,” I admitted cheerfully. “But this is a question of my will, not hers or yours.”

I raised my hand to rub my tired eyes but he misunderstood the gesture and retreated with upraised hands.

“Don’t,” he pleaded once again. “Permit me to think.” Then he said in despair, “She is an exceptional woman. There are not many like her and she is worth more than her weight in gold.”

“I know that.” The memory of Arsinoe sent tremors through my body. “After all, I have embraced her.”

“Her body answers the requirements of the goddess and that is not unusual. She has been trained in the skills of the goddess and they can be learned. But the mobility of her face is a wonder. She is whatever I want and however I want it for any purpose whatsoever. Nor is she a stupid woman. That is the greatest wonder of all.”

“I care little about her intelligence,” I said, not realizing what I was saying. “But everything else is true enough. She is the equal of her goddess.”

The priest extended his veined hands pleadingly to me. “In the temple of Eryx she serves the entire western sea, Carthage, Sicily, the Tyrrhenians, the Greeks. Through her body peace is built upon conflicting interests. There is not a councilor or tyrant whom she cannot persuade to believe the goddess.”

I gritted my teeth in thinking of the men who had believed themselves to be meeting the goddess while in Arsinoe’s arms.

“Enough,” I said. “I don’t intend to remember her past but will accept her as she is. I have even given her a new name.”

The old man began tearing at his beard, then opened his mouth to cry out.

“Stop!” I ordered him. “What do you think the guard could do to me? And don’t anger me.”

His mouth remained open, his tongue twitched but not a sound came nor could he close his mouth. I stared at him in bewilderment until I realized that my power had affected him just as his disciplined power had enslaved me earlier. I laughed once more.

“You may close your mouth,” I said, “and let your power of speech return.”

He closed his jaws with a snap and wet his lips. “If I permit you to take her with you, I myself will suffer,” he declared stubbornly. “No matter what tale I devise, it will not be believed. After all, we are living in civilized times and among priests the goddess no longer manifests her will but rather it is manifested in her behalf by the priests.”

He deliberated for a time and then a sly expression came over his face. “The only way is for you to abduct her and take her with you as naked as when she was born into this world. She must not have with her a single object belonging to the goddess. I will close my eyes while you seize her and only after several days have elapsed will I reveal her disappearance. No one need even know who has abducted her, although naturally all strangers will be suspected. When she returns she may defend herself by saying that you stole her by force.”

“She will not return,” I said firmly.

“When she returns,” he continued with equal firmness, “she may once again don the goddess’s jewels, and with greater wisdom than before. Perhaps that was precisely the goddess’s purpose. Why else would you have come here?”

A look of malicious delight came over his face. “But you,” he said, “you will not have a peaceful day the rest of your life. I don’t mean merely that you will be pursued by Carthage and all the native cities of Sicily. No, I mean that she herself will be a thorn in your flesh. Even if vou are not a mortal, you still have a body and she will be its greatest affliction.” He stroked his beard and Uttered maliciously. “Truly, you don’t know what you are asking. The goddess has bound you in her skein and the threads will scorch your flesh unto your heart until you wish that you were dead.”

But his words only excited me and once again I felt the glorious sting of the goddess’s threads and was filled with impatience.

“Arsinoe,” I whispered. “Arsinoe.”

“Her name is Istafra,” said the old man petulantly. “Why shouldn’t you know that also? I must die either now or later and I would rather do so later. That is really the only problem. But some day I must die anyway, and compared to that, what happens to her or you is unimportant. I wasted my powers in vain, and in vain rose from my soft bed. Do what you will, it does not concern me.”

We quarreled no more. He took the lamp and led me behind the empty pedestal of the goddess, opened a narrow door and descended before me down stone steps into the earth. The passage was so narrow that I had to turn my shoulders sideways. He led me past the treasure chamber of the goddess into Arsinoe’s room and awakened her.

Arsinoe had been sleeping with only a thin woolen cover over her, the new parasol in her hand. But when she awakened and saw us she flew into a rage.

“How have you been reared, Turms, that you don’t allow a woman to sleep in peace? You must be mad to force yourself into the goddess’s secret chambers in search of me.”

Angry, naked, and with the parasol in her hand she was so enchanting that I was overcome by an irresistible desire to push the priest out of the room and take her in my arms. But since I knew that it would have lasted until morning I controlled my impatience.

“Arsinoe,” I said, “rejoice. The goddess is giving you to me but we must leave immediately and in all secrecy and you must go as you are.”

The priest nodded. “That is so, Istafra. The power of this stranger is greater than mine, therefore it is best that you leave with him. When you are rid of him you can return and I will testify that he abducted you by force. But before that, to please me, make his life as difficult as you can and let him suffer the results of his madness.”

Arsinoe protested sleepily, “I don’t want to go with him and have never promised that I would. Besides, I don’t even know what to wear.”

Impatiently I told her that she had to come as she was because of my promise that we would take nothing belonging to the goddess. I did not wish to rob the goddess, I said, and for my part Arsinoe’s white skin was her most beautiful garment until such a time as I could buy her new clothes.

My words seemed to appease her and she said that she would at least take the parasol since it was my gift to her. But under no circumstances did she intend to follow me and throw herself like some stupid girl at the first stranger.

“So be it,” I said in fury. “I shall hit you over the head and carry you over my shoulder if you prefer that, although I may injure your lovely skin.”

She grew calmer at that and turned her back on us as though in contemplation.

The priest extended a round bowl and a stone knife to me and said, “Now consecrate yourself.”

“Consecrate,” I repeated. “What do you mean?”

“Bind yourself eternally to Aphrodite. It is the least I can expect of you whether you are mortal or not.”

When I remained silent he thought that I hesitated for lack of knowledge. Irritably he explained, “Scratch a wound in your thigh with the goddess’s knife, which is as old as the goddess’s fountain. Shed your blood into the bowl which is made of the goddess’s wood. Drop by drop repeat after me the words of consecration. That is all.”

“Nay,” I protested, “I have not the slightest intention of consecrating myself to Aphrodite. I am what I am. Let that suffice for the goddess from whom I accept this woman as a gift.”

The priest stared at me, not believing his ears. Then his temples and lips swelled with anger, words failed him and he fell to the floor, the goddess’s bowl and knife rolling from his hand. I feared that he had suffered a stroke, but there was no time to revive him.

Arsinoe watched, her lips tightly closed, as I felt her hair to make certain that she had nothing belonging to the goddess. Then I seized her hand, flung my mantle over her and led her out of the chamber. She followed me submissively up to the temple without saying a word.

We crossed the dark courtyard, stumbling over storm-torn branches, and climbed the wall where I had come down. I descended ahead of her, placing her foot on each tent peg so that she was able to reach the ground with but a few scratches. Then I climbed up again and removed the pegs so that no one would know how I had entered the temple. I put my arm around Arsinoe and with pounding heart led her to the inn. Still she had not said a word.