Instinctively I nodded my consent.
Lars Arnth rose imperiously, doffed his robe and tossed it onto the shoulders of the Tarquinian youth who stood in the circle with sword and shield. Then he drew off his shirt, unfastened his armbands and the chain around his neck, dropped them onto the ground and finally pulled the gold ring off his thumb. As though the matter were self-evident, he took his city’s sacred shield and sword from the youth, stepped into his place and indicated that he should sit on the holy rock. So great was the honor that the youth’s disappointment was assuaged.
The augur looked around as though inquiring whether anyone opposed the change in combatants. Then he touched Lars Arnth with his staff as an indication of acceptance. Lars Arnth was slenderer than the, other youths and his skin gleamed white as a woman’s as he stood there naked and, with expectant, parted lips, gazed at Misme while she for her part looked straight into his eyes. It was obvious that the girl’s vanity was flattered by the readiness of the regent of the most powerful of Etruscan cities to risk his life to win her.
But I had to smile with inexpressible relief on realizing that it was all a jest of the gods intended to indicate to me how blind even the most clear-sighted man can be and how useless it is to consider anything on earth important. I read Lars Arnth’s thoughts as from an open scroll. Certainly the sight of Misme had enchanted him, but at the same moment he had perceived how much he would win if he were to emerge the victor in the holy combat. He had suffered a defeat in the foreign policy negotiations and his authority in Tarquinia had suffered as a result of the unsuccessful military expedition to Himera. Old Aruns still lived and his authority was unshakeable, but it was not at all certain that Arnth would succeed him as ruler of Tarquinia even though he had been raised to the regency. Lars Arnth’s decisive policy was farsighted and dictated by the times but it did not please the old people or those who were pro-Greek.
But should he emerge the victor in the holy combat, he would personally secure a position of honor for Tarquinia among the Etruscan cities. True, in ancient times the rulers themselves had stepped into the sacred circle to fight among themselves for supremacy, but it was unprecedented for a young regent in these times to risk his life for his city. Should he win, Tarquinia’s supremacy would be no mere formality and honor but the victory would be considered a divine sign. And at the same time he would win for himself the daughter of a living Lucumo who was also the great Lars Porsenna’s granddaughter.
The gods smiled and I smiled with them, for everything was a lie. Misme was merely believed to be my daughter. And yet, in comprehending that, I realized at the same time that there is little difference between truth and falsehood in the mortal world. Everything depends on what a person believes to be true. The gods are above truth and falsehood, right and wrong. In my heart I decided to acknowledge Misme as my daughter and to forbid her ever to tell anyone that I was not her real father. It was enough that we both knew; it did not concern others. And with all my heart I wished Lars Arnth victory, for a nobler husband Misme could not find, although to be truthful I did not know whether Arsinoe’s daughter could bring happiness to any man or to the Etruscans as a whole. But why should I care, if in my heart I acknowledged Misme as my daughter? In that case only the best among the Etruscans was good enough for her. Mockingly I thought how badly Arsinoe had been mistaken about Misme.
The augur laid the traditional black leather collar on Misme’s bare shoulders and forced her to sit on the edge of the bed of stones, her bound wrists before her. Then he gave a sign with his staff and the combatants rushed together so violently that the first clash blurred before our eyes into flashing confusion. Sooner than the eye could comprehend, two youths lay bleeding on the ground.
The other contestants would have been wise, I think, if they had all united to force Lars Arnth outside the circle since they dared not kill him because of his noble birth. They were fighting only formally for honor and a beautiful sacrifice. He fought for his entire future, for the kingship of Tarquinia, even for the salvation of the Etruscan peoples, since he believed that only his own policy could free the Etrus can cities from fatal Greek pressure. But how could his rivals have known that?
No, in the traditional manner they rushed six against six in the first skirmish, paused for the period of a breath to appraise the situation; then five plunged against five, swords flashed and shield crashed against shield. We heard groans of pain and only four youths drew back, gasping for breath. One had toppled outside the ring, two crawled out leaving bloodstains behind, one’s sword had been struck from his hand, severing his fingers, one lay on his back with the air bubbling from his gashed throat, and one was shielded by the augur’s staff as he still tried to wield his sword although on his knees.
Without a glance at those who had dropped out, the four measured one another. Lars Arnth was one of the four and I crossed my hands tightly, hoping that he would last and at least save his life. For a moment they stood there with their backs to the sacred circle, then the most impatient lost his nerve and rushed with upraised shield at his nearest opponent. This youth struck it in the air with his own shield and plunged his sword through the other’s body. Instantly the third rival recognized his opportunity and leaped to thrust his sword into the defender’s back, not to kill but merely to render him incapable of combat.
Everything had occurred with incredible speed and ten of the bravest and fairest Etruscan youths were already out of the game. I thought sadly of their hopes and how they had toughened their bodies and improved their skills with ceaseless practice. In a few fleeting moments all was over and hope gone. Now only Lars Arnth and the Veian youth remained, and the real battle could begin. Chance and good fortune no longer determined the outcome but only swordsmanship, endurance and nerves.
Haste availed nothing. That they both must have realized as they warily crept along the edge of the ring, for each took a moment to glance at Misme who stared at them with shining eyes. Later I heard that the Veian youth had been among those who had fetched Misme and that he had held her in his arms on horseback. Then and there he had decided to die rather than surrender. But despite his youth Lars Arnth had attended the bitter school of political life and well knew the power of patience and perseverance to overcome a rival’s endurance. Coldbloodedly he waited, even dropping his shield and stretching his limbs.
The youth from Veil could bear no more but plunged ahead, the shields clanging against each other and the swords striking bright sparks as they clashed. But the youths were of the same size and equally skilled, and neither succeeded in thrusting the other backward. After exchanging some ten rapid strokes they leaped apart to regain their breath. Blood streamed down Lars Arnth’s thigh, but he shook his head sharply as the augur prepared to raise his staff. The Veian youth forgot and looked at him and at that moment Lars Arnth charged at him with bowed head and thrust his sword under his foe’s shield. The youth dropped to one knee but kept his shield up and lashed out so violently with his sword that Lars Arnth had to retreat. The Veian had received a bad wound in his groin and could not rise, but with knee to the ground he slashed aside the augur’s staff and glared at Lars Arnth.
Lars Arnth was compelled to continue, willingly or not. He seemed to sense that the Veian had more endurance than he, and that thus he had to bring the combat to a quick conclusion. Holding his shield as low as possible, he attacked. But the Veian warded off the blow and with the speed of light dropped his sword, scooped up a handful of sand and threw it at Lars Arnth’s eyes. Then he snatched the sword again and plunged it at Lars Arnth’s unprotected chest with such force that he toppled off his knee and fell on his face to the ground as, more by instinct than skill, Lars Arnth thrust the blade aside blindly so that he suffered only a harmless cut. He could have struck the Veian youth on the neck with the edge of his shield or cut off the fingers grasping the sword. But Lars Arnth was content to step on his hand and press the youth’s face to the ground with his shield without hurting him. It was nobly done.
The Veian youth was fearless and tried once more to wrench himself free. Only then did he accept his defeat and a sob of disappointment rose from his throat. He released his sword and Lars Arnth, stooping to snatch it from the ground, threw it outside the ring. Magnanimously he extended his hand to his opponent and helped him to rise although his own eyes were still blinded by the sand and his own blood.
Then Lars Arnth did something the like of which had surely never happened before. Still panting from his exertion he glanced around searchingly, then stepped to the augur and pulled off the loose augur’s cloak so that the old man stood clad only in a shirt, his thin legs bare. With the cloak over his arm Lars Arnth stepped to Misme, cut the holy woolen band that bound her wrists, bent reverently to touch her mouth with his and, dropping onto the stone bed, took Misme in his arms and covered them both with the augur’s cloak.
This was so amazing that not even the most sacred tradition could stifle the laughter. At sight of the augur’s helpless air and thin legs we laughed still more, and when Misme extended a bare foot from the cloak and wiggled her toes at us even the Lucumones laughed so that tears rolled from their eyes.
With such relief did we laugh at Lars Arnth’s unexpected thoughtful-ness, nor was anyone opposed to it. On the contrary, everyone admitted later that such a noble youth as Lars Arnth and the granddaughter of Lars Porsenna could not have performed the traditional sacrifice before the stares of the people. Probably Misme and Arnth also
