Only then did I realize that there would be only men on board the ship, and that a woman like Arsinoe, even without a cat, could drive a crew to destruction.
Suddenly she reached into her bosom. “Now I remember Lars Alsir’s message.” She brought forth a tiny sea horse the size of my thumb and carved of black stone. “He sent you this as a memento. He said as a joke that you could settle your debts with him another time when you come into your kingdom, so I selected a few small pieces of jewelry in addition to the cat. He also gave me a golden sea horse to make sure that I gave you the stone one.”
“What was the message?” I asked impatiently.
“Don’t hurry me.” She wrinkled her brow in thought. “He said that presumably nothing bad would happen to you, but that you have bound yourself to the earth. Then he said-and this he impressed on me-that two Carthaginian warships are hidden on a beach west of Himera, and that outside the city walls, by the altar of lacchus, there is a pyre which will be lighted as a signal if you should sail at night. More warships are on their way, he said, so it would be wisest to escape in time.”
She stretched out on the bed temptingly, but I dared not look at her. The news she had given me was of greater importance.
“I must go,” I said hastily. “The conference has begun and Dionysius needs me.”
“Won’t you even kiss me good-bye?” she asked faintly. With closed lids I bent over her. She held my head to her breast only long enough to make it difficult for me to leave, then thrust me from her. As she lay back on the bed and reached for the cat her eyes shone in triumph.
4.
Had he dared, Krinippos in his greed would certainly have kept our treasure and killed Dionysius and his crew. But being a cunning man, he felt a healthy respect for Dionysius’ shrewdness and was aware that all precautions had been taken against a surprise attack.
An old and sickly man who knew that death was gnawing at his belly like a crab, he clung to the vows by which he had sworn to govern Himera. And so I found him arguing with Dionysius about his share of the treasure, demanding a tithe in addition to the fines already decreed.
Kydippe looked from one to the other of us with ingratiating smiles but when I met her cold virginal eyes, I hastened to recount what I had just learned from Arsinoe. At the same moment the helmsman entered to announce that the sacrificial fires were already burning. Dionysius then sent him to destroy the signal pyre outside the city and to assemble the crews with all haste.
Faced by reality, Krinippos ceased his muttering and outlined a plan of action. Dionysius’ most trustworthy men were to force their way into his home during the early hours of the morning, beat the guards and break into the vault. The farewell gift could be scattered over the floor as though fallen from a torn sack.
Krinippos tittered and stroked his sparse beard. “I don’t know whether the Phoenicians will believe the story of your escape, but the council of Carthage is experienced. It enjoys peace and trade more than foolish discord and will quickly realize that it is to its advantage to believe what I say. Thus my reputation will remain unsullied although I have provided a haven for pirates all winter.”
We bade farewell to Krinippos, thanked him for his hospitality and wished him a long life.
The plan was executed swiftly and easily. Krinippos’ guards relinquished their weapons after only slight protests, after which Dionysius’ men tied them and happily kicked them full of bruises to provide evidence of a struggle. Frugal Krinippos had left the key to the vault in evidence to render unnecessary our breaking the complicated lock. We found our treasure much diminished but despite this there was more than enough for our sailors to carry through the city gates and to the shore, while the guards laughed at our exertion. The sacrificial meat was placed on board, the stores of oil and dried peas replenished, and the men even found time during their last moments on shore to steal some wineskins. Some also must have found time for other things, too, for we heard feminine wailings and shrieks from various houses.
The spring night enveloped us as we clambered over the wet stones to the trireme already floating free. Both smaller galleys slid ahead of us with a splash of oars and disappeared into the darkness so that we heard merely the muffled rhythmic beat of the gong across the water. Then Dionysius ordered our own vessel into action. The three rows of oars dipped into the water, tangling with one another. From below the deck we heard yelps of pain as the rowers, unaccustomed to the new galley, caught their thumbs between the oars. We lurched ahead uncertainly, saved from the reefs by a land wind that helped us until the men gained control of the oars and the vessel began to obey the tiller.
So we left Himera, and the sadness of departure filled my eyes with hot tears. Yet it was not so much for Himera that I wept as for my own enslavement. Only when Dionysius called on me for wind did I understand what Lars Alsir had meant in telling Arsinoe that I was bound to the earth. It was Arsinoe who drew me to the earth, confused my thoughts and made trivial matters seem important. The very thought of conjuring the wind made me realize the dreadful heaviness of my body. My power had been drained out of me by Arsinoe.
Dionysius heard my tortured breathing, patted my shoulder and said, “Do not exert yourself unnecessarily. It is better that we use the oars until we are accustomed to the vessel and know how it responds to the waves. A storm might snap the mast and sink us.”
“What is our direction?” I asked.
“Leave that to Poseidon,” he replied amiably. “But make certain that your sword has not rusted in its scabbard during the winter. You see, we are on our way to greet those two Carthaginian warships for the very reason that no one expects us to do so. I have passed a little time fishing along these shores and watched the schools of round dolphin. That is how I know the landmarks to the west and can guess the inlet in which the Carthaginians have beached their galleys if they are able mariners.”
“I thought you were planning to elude them under cover of darkness. Water was poured on their bonfire so that by dawn we would be out of sight.”
“But they would pursue us like a pair of hounds,” Dionysius pointed out. “No, their purpose is not to wage battle but to drive us straight into the lap of the fleet that is on its way here. Why shouldn’t I take advantage of the situation? Besides, the oarsmen will familiarize themselves with the new vessel more quickly if they realize that they must elude the murderous blow of a bronze ram. But if you are so opposed to fighting, Turms, you can go lie with your Arsinoe below deck.”
Sailing through the darkness and feeling the ship roll with the waves, I was overcome by despair. I knew nothing about currents and tides, I was unable to read the clouds like Dionysius, and the wind no longer obeyed me. I was merely earth and body. Everything around me happened merely by chance, nor was I consoled by the thought that Arsinoe awaited me in safety below. The certainty of all the sorrows and pleasures that she held in store for me was my bitterest knowledge.
With the break of day all three of our galleys were together and heading straight for an inlet. Seeing us appear like spirits from the shadowy sea, the Carthaginian lookouts no doubt could hardly believe their eyes. Immediately horns and drums began to sound their warning, and before we were in the shelter of the inlet both the warships were launched and their men armed. However, in the confusion born of surprise, contradictory orders were shouted, the beat of the gong faltered and the oars became tangled.
Dionysius roared encouragement to his men, and his amazing fortune enabled our vessel to pursue one of the fleeing Phoenicians and crush it against the rocky shore. Cries of terror arose from beneath us as the heavily armed marines of Carthage fell into the sea and the rowers sought to swim to safety. Only two archers attempted to cause trouble, but one of them Dionysius pinned to the deck with his spear while the other was swept into the water by the rowers.
Recognizing certain disaster, the second Phoenician galley made for the shore and its crew fled to the safety of the woods. Those of their companions who had managed to escape from the first vessel followed, and soon arrows began to rain on us from the shore. Some of them penetrated the oar ports, wounding several rowers and giving a thankful Mikon reason to go below. The arrows became so thick that Dionysius hastily gave the order to retreat.
“In the Phoenician manner they have more archers than swordsmen,” he said. “It is not from cowardice that I
