7.
Until late that night we sailed along the blue shoreline of Cyprus, striving in vain to reach the open sea. A stiff breeze forced us relentlessly northeastward and not all the shifting of sails took us from the direction in which an apparently relentless will was driving us. When darkness fell Dionysius had the sails half furled and the vessels roped together so that we would not drift apart during the night. While most of the crew slept he and several others remained on watch for possible breakers.
But nothing happened and we awakened at daybreak to the astonished shouts of the lookouts. When we reached the deck we saw that the sea had grown calm and that we were floating off the easternmost tip of Cyprus. The sun rose from the sea all red and gold, and on its mountain at the end of the promontory we saw the temple of Aphrodite of Akraia with its terraces and columns. It was so near that in the dazzling light of dawn we could distinguish every detail and hear the crowing of Aphrodite’s famous black cocks over the water.
The men of Salamis cried out that this was a sign and an omen. The powerful Aphrodite of Akraia, the Aphrodite of seafarers and the mightiest Aphrodite of the eastern sea, had sent a storm to lead us to her. Moreover, she was a native Cypriote, having stepped ashore there from her seashell with only her golden hair veiling her foam-white body. For all those reasons, said the men of Sardis, it was necessary that we go ashore and make a sacrifice lest we incur Aphrodite’s wrath.
But Dionysius roared at the men to take to their oars since only a miracle had kept us from drifting onto the reefs between the small islands while we had stared at the temple. The men of Salamis protested that the miracle was Aphrodite’s and that they would not take the responsibility of leaving without having made an offering.
“I gladly recognize the might of the golden-haired goddess,” said Dionysius, “and promise to make a sacrifice at the first opportune moment. But you can see for yourselves that there are many large ships in the harbor. I would rather suffer Aphrodite’s wrath than that of the god of war.”
He ordered the beat of the gongs quickened to battle speed. “I’ll sweat out of you the last desire to sacrifice to Aphrodite.”
But despite the best efforts of the rowers, the helmsmen noticed that our speed was not what it should have been and the men themselves muttered that never before had the oars felt so heavy.
Finally, when the shadow of the temple had dropped beyond the horizon, our speed increased. The cloudless sky smiled at us, the sea breathed lightly, and everything around us seemed radiant.
Dionysius shouted triumphantly, “You see, the Cypriote has no power on the sea!”
The rowers began to sing loudly in relief, some with good voices, others cawing like ravens or screaming like gulls. The more loudly they sang the harder they pulled at the oars as though it were no longer an effort but a joy. The water frothed at the prows, the wakes bubbled, and the oars whipped up the sea at our sides.
At midday the lookouts cried out with one voice that they saw a mast and a colored sail. The vessel came directly toward us and soon we all saw the carved and painted rails, the glow of the ivory and silver deity at its prow, and the glint of the sun on the oars. It was a narrow, fast ship and lovely as a dream.
When it was sufficiently near it raised its pennants and showed its shields. The men of Salamis said, “It is one of Tyre’s ships. Surely you don’t intend to anger the sea goddess, Dionysius?”
But Dionysius unhesitatingly showed a Persian shield, signaled the strange ship to stop, and ordered our marines to board it. When we climbed over its side no one offered resistance, although the Phoe nicians shouted in guttural voices and raised protesting hands. Among them were priests with bead-trimmed headbands, silver rattles, and bells around their necks.
“Why are they screaming?” demanded Dionysius, lowering his axe.
The men of Salamis tremblingly explained, “This is a sacred ship. It is carrying incense and votive offerings to the temple of Aphrodite at Akraia.”
Dionysius glowered and scratched his head in perplexity, then inspected the ship. Its cargo was undeniably valuable, although useless for our purposes. When he sought to enter the deckhouse the priests clutched the curtain before the entrance. Dionysius tore it down, went inside, and hastily returned with a red face.
“There’s nothing in there except four daughters of Astarte.”
The men of Salamis talked to the priests and learned that the four girls were the gift of Astarte of Tyre to her sister, Aphrodite of Akraia, and symbolized the four corners of the world ruled by Tyre as queen of the sea.
“This is an omen!” cried the men, and insisted upon seeing the girls.
For a moment Dionysius was tempted to plunder and sink the ship, then the sight of the smiling sun, the shimmering sky and the dark blue eyes of the sea made him laugh. He ordered the girls brought forth.
They stepped out of the shelter fearlessly and gracefully, wearing only their hair ornaments, necklaces and the goddess’s belt. One of them was white as snow, the second yellow as mustard, the third copper-colored, and the fourth black as pitch. We shouted in amazement, for none of us had ever seen a yellow-skinned person.
Dionysius said, “I don’t deny that this is a sign and an omen. The goddess realized that we could not stop to make our offering, therefore she sent us this ship. It is ours, and as evidence of it I am burying this axe in the deck and dedicating the vessel to the goddess of Akraia.”
The men were content with the decision and declared that they had no intention of warring against gods and consecrated girls. In all friendliness they took the priests’ ornaments and bells as mementos, but no one touched the girls.
When they saw that we were about to leave the ship the girls began talking together in great agitation and pointing to us. The Negro girl seized Dionysius’ beard, while the snow-white one ran her fingertips temptingly across the corners of my mouth.
Dionysius frowned. “What do they want?”
The priests of Tyre explained reluctantly that the girls wanted us to sacrifice to Aphrodite. Since all could not do it, the girls wished to choose those from whom they would accept the offering.
Dionysius loosened the Negro girl’s fingers from his beard, waged a violent spiritual struggle with himself, and said, “He who has taken one step must also take the next. We would have to stop at any rate to eat hot food while the sea is calm. But I don’t want to take advantage of my position. Let us draw lots and in that manner choose the four men to represent us.”
The goddess smiled impartially, for a winning pebble-one red, one black and one yellow-was drawn by each vessel. But incredible as it was, I myself drew the white pebble from the barrel. I stared at it in alarm, remembering the touch of the slender fingers on my face. Quickly I passed the pebble to Mikon.
He looked down into his palm. “I thought the moon ruled you. Only now do I understand why the storm which you conjured” up led us to the temple at Akraia.”
I bid him stop chattering and hold up the pebble in his hand for all to see. Then the rowers washed and scrubbed and anointed those who had drawn the winning pebbles and ornamented them with chains and rings selected from the loot.
While the rest of us filed by the pots for our meal, the four fortunates, Mikon in the lead because of his position, stepped into the deckhouse. The priests replaced the curtain and began to chant hoarsely.
When we had eaten and drunk the wine which Dionysius had served in honor of the occasion, the sun began to drop ominously toward the west. Dionysius became impatient and finally sent for the four men.
Our hands rose involuntarily to our mouths when we saw them stagger forth with the aid of their companions. Their eyes were glazed, their tongues hung out and they could hardly stand. Even Mikon clung to the necks of two oarsmen, and when he attempted to jump aboard our vessel he fell flat on his face.
Dionysius ordered the crews to the oars and turned the prows of our ships northeastward as though our intention was to return to Ionian waters by rounding the mainland side of Cyprus. He surmised that the priests of Tyre would immediately inform the Persians of our presence and devised a daring plan. As soon as the sacrificial vessel had disappeared from view we changed to a southeasterly course. A smiling breath of wind began blowing over the sea as though Aphrodite herself were capriciously bestowing her favors on us.
Mikon raised himself shakily to his knees and vomited before he had time to drag himself to the side. Then a rational look came into his eyes once more.
“I have experienced nothing like this in all my forty years,” he said with a weak smile. “I thought that I knew much but actually I knew nothing. Now at last I believe in Aphrodite’s invisible golden net in which even the strongest man is ensnared.” He returned the smooth white pebble that I had given him. “Keep it, Turms. It was not intended for me but for you, you favorite of the goddess.”
