As the water reached the rowers’ benches the men pulled desperately at the oars. Whether we wished to do so or not, we had to land, for the ship was sinking. Hardly had the oarsmen fled to the deck than we heard a snap and a jolt as the vessel went aground. We were saved, although waves were washing the deck and the ship rolled over on its side with a sigh. Both the penteconters landed safely and, jumping into the water, we pulled them ashore. Only then did we seize our weapons and prepare to defend ourselves, although the land swayed under our feet and we tottered from side to side.
2.
A number of ships, covered for the winter, were drawn up on either bank of the river. A motley crowd soon appeared, conversing excitedly in many languages. When the people saw our weapons they kept their distance, although a few broke off leafy twigs from the trees and waved them overhead in token of friendship.
We tossed our shields and weapons to the ground. Encouraged, the people came closer, talked to us, peered at us from every side and tugged at our clothes as the curious do in every land. Many of them spoke Greek, although in a strange dialect. Peddlers offered us grapes and fruit and gladly accepted a Persian gold coin in payment, giving us their own silver in change. They told us that the name of their city was Himera and that it had been founded by the people of Zankle who had later been joined by Syracusans wearied of the civil wars ceaselessly raging in their city. The majority of the people, however, were native Siculi whom the Greeks had married.
At sundown the city gates were closed, and we, having no desire to meet more people that evening, stretched out for the night where we were. The smell of the earth, the grass and the very touch of solid ground were a joy after the stench and hard planks that we had known at sea.
When the gates were opened again in the morning Dionysius sent for a bull and some sheep. We garlanded and sacrificed the bull and burned its leg bones as well as the fat from the sheep. Then we roasted the meat and ate our fill. More peddlers came by with their baskets to sell us bread and honey cakes and we spent freely until Dionysius put a stop to it. After all, he reminded us, we were lonians.
The morning passed in noisy feasting and dancing that attracted all the disreputable elements of the city. Finally the Himeran tyrant, escorted by an armed guard and a number of mounted men, came to greet us and to inquire what our plans were. He was a sparsely bearded old man with stooped shoulders who walked modestly in the midst of his men in a home-loomed mantle.
Dionysius advanced, told him of the battle of Lade and of the loot that we had won from the Persians, and asked for sanctuary through the winter. He also requested ropes and oxen, a windlass and woodworkers to salvage the sunken vessel and dry-dock the penteconters.
As Dionysius spoke, the tyrant watched us shrewdly. One could see from his eyes that he was not a man of unimportance despite his modest appearance.
When Dionysius had spoken, the tyrant declared, “The will of my people made me, Krinippos, the autocrat of Himera, although ruling is distasteful to me. Hence I must discuss all important decisions with the people. But because there are matters which should not be noised about by all, I suggest that you come to my house where we may talk within four walls. Or, if you are suspicious, let us withdraw here beyond earshot of your men. The presence of too many people disturbs me because I lack eloquence and am a recluse by nature.”
Dionysius acceded and the gray-haired man fearlessly accompanied him to the farther side of the field, although Dionysius was heads taller and could have snapped his frail neck with bare hands. They seated themselves on the ground and began talking earnestly.
Krinippos’ warriors smiled proudly. “He is incomparable, our tyrant, and we would elevate him to the throne if he did not abhor the word king. He need fear no rival, for his house is filled with amulets of the underworld gods which he has obtained in some mysterious way. By threatening us with them he has succeeded in abolishing all destructive rivalry and has ruled us so wisely that both the Carthaginians and the Tyrrhenians are our friends, and not even Syracuse dares threaten our freedom.”
They told us also that Krinippos had married a woman of Carthage and that he ruled all the people of his city impartially, regardless of their nationality. According to Krinippos’ men, Himera was a happy city in which fear and injustice were unknown.
Finally we saw Krinippos and Dionysius rise, courteously wipe the grass off each other and return to us. When the tyrant had departed for the city with his men, Dionysius told us what had transpired.
“I have made a pact with that able ruler. From now on we are free to enter and leave the city with or without weapons. We can either rent lodgings or build houses, practice trade, worship the city’s or our own gods as we wish, marry Himeran women or otherwise win their favor, for the customs here are free. We must, however, promise to guard the city’s wall as though it were our own while we live in Himera.”
His men said skeptically, “All that is too good to be true. Krinippos is more cunning than you think. After he has lured us into the city he will have his men kill us for our loot, or perhaps bewitch us with his magic objects or coax us to join games of chance in which we will lose everything.”
Dionysius bid them keep their mouths shut, for the assurances that he had received from Krinippos could not be doubted. But even more important than the holiest oaths was the fact that their interests were identical. For that reason he had decided to store our locked and sealed loot in Krinippos’ vaults as guarantee of our good behavior, and to distribute to each man only the amount needed to live through the winter. Krinippos was not anxious to have a sudden influx of money because it would raise prices and straiten the life of the residents.
Although the men suspected that Dionysius already had fallen under the spell of Krinippos, the lure of the city was so great that before long we set forth in groups, leaving the oldest to watch the ships.
The guards at the gate admitted us without demanding our weapons. As we strolled along the streets we saw the shops of the artisans, the dye-works and the weavers at their looms. We saw the market place and the stalls with teachers, scribes and merchants. We also saw the beautiful temple of Poseidon with its fluted pillars, as well as the temples of Demeter and Baal. Wherever we went the people called out greetings, children ran after us, and men and women tugged at our robes to invite us to their houses.
After their sufferings at sea the men could not resist the invitations, but gradually, in twos and threes, left us to enjoy Himeran hospitality. In that manner our group diminished until, before we realized it, only Dorieus, Mikon and I remained.
Dorieus said, “If I could find a temple of Herakles I would make a sacrifice. You perhaps noticed the figure of the cock in the frame of the city gate and the emblem of the cock on the Himeran coins. We were destined to come to this place and here to work out our fate.”
I smelled the tempting fragrances of the city and asked, “Where can we find a house worthy of us? Krinippos’ dwelling does not tempt me, for he is said to be frugal in his ways. But neither can we condescend to be the guests of a humble man.”
Mikon said with assumed gravity, “You tell us what to do, Dorieus, you who are the descendant of Herakles.”
Dorieus did not hesitate. “There is no doubt but that we should go westward as far as the city extends. That will bring us closest to the land which is my legacy.”
So we walked to the westernmost end of the city where there were large houses with windowless walls facing the street and gardens surrounded by walls. The street was silent and dirty and clay had crumbled from the houses. Suddenly my head grew light and the air flickered before my eyes.
“I have walked this street in my dreams!” I cried. “I know these houses. But in my dream a chariot roared down the street, a blind poet plucked his lyre, and colored canopies protected the doors and gates. Yes, this is the street of my dreams. Or is it?” I paused and looked around, for the memory had returned only briefly, and scales were again covering my eyes.
“The street is not uninhabited,” observed Mikon, “although it was formerly occupied by the wealthy and the nobility. That is apparent from the walls and the iron gates and the bronze fittings. But the days of the nobility are past now that the people have seized the power and a tyrant protects the people’s rights.”
I barely heard him, for my attention was caught by a newly fallen white feather. When I had picked it up I looked around and noticed that we were standing before a small door set in a large gate. Its bronze knocker pictured a satyr embracing a fleeing nymph, but it was not necessary for me to knock, for the door opened with a
