I accepted the pebble and kept it, just as I had kept the black pebble which I had found on the earth floor of the temple of Cybele in Sardis. And this white pebble also signified the end of an era in my life although I did not know it at the time.
Mikon spoke a warning. “The gods not only give, they also take away. It is apparent that Artemis is your goddess, but for some reason Aphrodite also has chosen you. This may be unfortunate, since both these powerful goddesses are jealous of each other. You must be careful not to sacrifice too much to either but try to retain the favor of both as they compete for you.”
But all that was forgotten in the exhaustion of laboring at the oars as we sailed in Phoenician waters. The moon grew full and we raged over the sea like Artemis’ wild dogs, murdering, plundering and sinking ships. Signal fires burned all along the Phoenician coast and in a bitter battle we succeeded in sinking two small warships which came upon us unexpectedly. We lost some men and many more were wounded. But invisible shields protected me so that I remained un-scratched.
Many of the men began to complain of seeing the ghosts of our victims in the dark and of feeling the pinch of cold fingers as they were about to sleep. A convoy of vengeful spirits accompanied us, for the sea and the sky around our vessels often darkened without apparent reason.
Dionysius made several sacrifices to placate the spirits, and spat in the sea and scratched the prow with his fingernails to gain a favorable wind. But when the new moon appeared like a thread-thin silver sickle he said suddenly, “I have tested my luck sufficiently and our ships can carry no more cargo. I am not so greedy that I would sacrifice the seaworthiness of my vessels for spoils. Our expedition is now at an end and we have nothing to do but save our lives and our loot. Therefore let us turn our prows westward, and may Poseidon help us across the measureless sea.”
As the Phocaeans shouted for joy Dionysius prayed to the gods of Phoenicia and lonia, smeared blood on the face, hands and feet of the deity and sacrificed several prisoners, letting their blood run into the sea. Sacrifices which would no longer be permitted on land were tolerated at sea and no one protested these barbaric offerings.
Intoxicated by the blood and the loot and our success, the oarsmen joined in calling for the wind. The sailing season was drawing to a close, flocks of birds flew restlessly above the sea, and the water changed its colors. But still the sun scorched us mercilessly, the firmament dazzled our eyes, and the wind did not appear.
Finally the rowers, palms raw from the oars and their throats hoarse, began to shout, “Turms, summon the wind for us! We would rather drown than die at the oars with this heavy cargo of loot.”
With their shouts my head cleared and I saw around us the shadows of the deceased with their vindictive grimaces and hands that clutched our railings as though to prevent our escape.
An ecstasy seized me. I felt myself stronger than the spirits and began summoning the east wind. The others shouted with me, imitating the words whose meaning even I did not understand. Three times, then seven times and finally twelve times I called. Mikon covered his head in fear but made no attempt to restrain me since our lives in any event were at stake with the Phoenician and Egyptian ships at our heels.
Then the sea turned yellow in the east and a blinding storm swirled over us, carrying with it the dust of distant deserts. The last we saw of the open sea behind us was a waterspout rising from the waves to the sky. Then I collapsed onto the deck and Mikon and Dorieus carried me below, where they tied me to one of the ribs to keep me from being battered to death in the pitching ship.
Book Three
Himera
1.
Greater even than Dionysius’ bravery in the battle of Lade, more notable than his raiding expeditions in Phoenician waters, was his skill as a navigator. Despite the autumn gales which sent other ships fleeing to the safety of winter ports, he succeeded in reaching the shores of Sicily in three weeks without landing once, and with the mountains of Crete as his only landmark. This incredible feat deserves full recognition.
So filthy and diseased were we, so bruised and rotted by salt water, that when we finally sighted land and knew it to be real, the men wept with joy and demanded that we put ashore no matter whose territory it was.
Our ships leaked so badly and autumn was so far advanced that not even Dionysius believed that we could continue our voyage over the wide and unknown waters that separated us from Massilia. Calling together his captains and helmsmen he said, “The gigantic smoke-capped mountain that you see tells me that we have arrived at Sicily. If you crave large cities we can continue northward to Croton or south to Syracuse, the largest of the Sicilian cities.”
The helmsmen were delighted. “We are wealthy men now and it would be easiest for us to sell our loot in a large city. We could also have our vessels repaired quickly in some shipyard or even buy new ships with which to continue to Massilia in the spring. But above all we need rest and good food, music, wine and garlands to speed our recovery from these weeks at sea.”
“It’s true that you’ll find such pleasures most readily in a large city,” admitted Dionysius, “but large cities are also fortified cities. They have their walls and their mercenaries and their guarded ports, perhaps even warships. They also receive news from the outside world sooner than small cities.”
He looked sharply at the men. “Our conscience is clear, for we know that we have waged legal warfare against the Persians. But we are too wealthy not to arouse suspicions no matter how we try to explain the source of our loot. And wine has caused many a man to talk his head off. We know our own talkativeness. After all, the immortals chose to make us lonians the glibbest of all peoples.
“No,” he concluded, “we must spend the winter in some secluded city and buy the friendship of its tyrant. Three warships and a trained band like ours are not to be scorned by a minor tyrant trying to preserve his independence. There are such cities on the northern coast whence we could easily set forth for Massilia in the spring. And so I must ask one final effort of you, valiant brothers. Let us sail courageously through the straits which have brought destruction to hundreds of ships, for otherwise we will lose all that we have won.”
The men paled to think of the whirlpools, currents and treacherous winds of those fabled straits, but having protested for a time they grew calmer. When night fell we heard a dull roar and saw a red glow lighting the sky above the smoke-peaked mountain. Ashes began to rain onto the decks and the rowers no longer demanded to go ashore.
Dorieus alone smiled and proclaimed, “The land of my father’s death greets me with thunder and pillars of fire. That sign suffices for me. I know now why the sheep’s bones pointed westward.”
Mikon for his part said, “Dionysius’ luck has brought us thus far. Let him continue to lead us.”
I also felt that the gods hardly would have protected us from the terrors of the sea only to sink our ships ignominiously in the infamous straits. So ended the conference and Dionysius was permitted to carry out his plan. In the silence of the night he sacrificed our Phoenician pilots to the pitiless god of the straits. When, the next morning, I found them gone I was sorry for I had talked to them and for all their foreignness they had shown themselves to be the same kind of people as we were.
The straits were as treacherous as they were said to be and we struggled mightily to pass through them. More dead than alive, and with the crash of the breakers still echoing in our ears, we finally reached the autumnal blue of the Tyrrhenian Sea. Now a favoring wind helped us as we sailed along the mountainous coast within sight of land. Dionysius gave offerings of thanks, poured wine into the sea, and even chopped off the feet of the Phoenician god and threw him overboard with the words, “I no longer need you, god, whoever you may be, for you don’t know these waters.”
But our leaking ships, damaged even more by the straits, moved with difficulty. Each of us yearned for land, for fresh water and fruit, but Dionysius pushed onward, sniffing the breeze, talking to fishermen and purchasing their catch. But as we sailed, the water inside the ship rose ever higher.
By evening the wind began to blow us toward land. We saw the mouth of a river and a city surrounded by a thick wall. Columns of steam arose from the hot springs around it, and beyond it were high mountains.
