am pulling away, but because I do not wish to endanger our vessel on the rocks.”
All this time the Carthaginians were dragging their wounded to land, shouting encouragement to one another, shaking their fists at us and cursing in many languages.
Dorieus angrily held up his shield. “Let us go ashore and kill them,” he suggested. “It is shameful to tolerate such insults when we have vanquished them.”
“If we go ashore they will lead us into the woods where they will kill us one by one,” replied Dionysius. Then he continued thoughtfully, “The overturned vessel will never again be seaworthy, but the other must be burned even if the smoke betrays us. I will not have it nosing in our rear.”
“Permit me to add to my fame by going ashore and holding these Carthaginians at a distance until someone has set fire to their vessel,” suggested Dorieus.
Dionysius stared at him open-mouthed, then hastened to agree. “I ask for nothing better. I would have suggested it myself had I not feared that you might consider the task too humble for yourself.”
Dorieus then called to the men around him asking who of them wished to gain everlasting fame at his side, but the men of Phocaea suddenly found other matters of interest. Only when Dionysius observed that the Carthaginian galley might contain objects worth stealing did one of the penteconters approach, pick up Dorieus and take him ashore. Two men with tinder boxes and pitchers of oil hastily climbed aboard the Carthaginian vessel but Dorieus called out calmly to them not to hurry.
Seeing Dorieus standing there alone defiantly waving his shield, a bundle of spears under his arm, the Carthaginians momentarily ceased their howling. Then, when they noticed a wisp of smoke rising from their red- and-black galley, the commander and ten of his marines finally plunged in rage from the woods. They ran straight for Dorieus, who tossed his deadly spears with accuracy, felling four of the men. Then, baring his sword, he called upon his forefather Herakles to witness his deed and rushed toward the survivors. Several escaped but the others, including the commander, he killed.
Dionysius cursed in admiration as he watched the exploit. “What a fighter! Why did he have to take that blow on the head at Lade?”
During a lull Dorieus stooped over the Carthaginian commander. He had time to tear off the golden earrings and the heavy chain with its lion medallion before the spears and arrows again began flying from the woods. His shield drooped with the weight of the spears it bore and we heard the snap of the arrows as they struck his breastplates. Soon he plucked an arrow from his thigh, and a moment later another entered his open mouth, piercing the cheek.
With a shout of joy the Phoenicians ran out of the woods but he limped toward them, so tall and threatening that they suddenly spun around and fled, calling on their god for help as they ran.
Dionysius wept bitterly at the sight. “I cannot allow such a brave man to fall, although it would be for the good of us all.”
At that moment I knew that I also had secretly hoped for the worst. Guiltily I had watched the unequal battle without even attempting to go to his aid, and now it was too late. Dionysius called out to one of the penteconters to steer to the shore and fetch Dorieus, who waded out to meet it, staining the water red with the blood from his wounds.
So breathlessly had I followed Dorieus’ exploit that only after he was once more on the deck of the trireme did I notice that Arsinoe stood behind me, gazing in wide-eyed admiration at Dorieus. She was wearing only a short robe fastened with a wide silver belt which accentuated her slender waist.
Dionysius and the helmsmen stared at her and forgot Dorieus. Even the oars became tangled as some of the oarsmen caught sight of her through an aperture in the deck. But Dionysius quickly recovered himself and began to swear and roar and lay about him with his rope-end until the men returned to their tasks. The water again rushed past the bows and the burning hulk on shore soon lay far behind us.
Having divested Dorieus of his armor and watched Mikon apply healing salves to his wounds, I turned to Arsinoe in anger. “What do you mean by showing yourself to the sailors in that garment? Your place is below deck and see that you remain there. You might have been wounded by an arrow.”
Without taking any notice of me, she went over to Dorieus, looked at him admiringly and said, “Ah, Dorieus, what a hero you are! I thought I beheld the god of war himself and not a mere mortal. How crimson your blood is as it streams down your neck! I would heal that wounded cheek with a kiss if I could.”
His limbs stopped trembling and his lips grew calm. Recognition came into his eyes. He looked at her with desire, at me with disdain.
“Gladly would I have had Turms at my side as in the past,” he said. “I expected him but he never came. Had I known that you were watching I would have killed even more Carthaginians in honor of your beauty.”
Arsinoe glanced at me, her lips curved scornfully, and knelt on the rough planks beside Dorieus. “What an unforgettable battle! Would that I could have taken from the shore even a handful of sand or a shell in memory of your heroism.”
Dorieus laughed exultantly. “I would be worthless indeed if I were satisfied with sand and shells as battle trophies. Take these as a remembrance of this occasion.” He held out the golden earrings of the Carthaginian commander with his ragged lobes still sticking to them.
Arsinoe clapped her hands with joy, accepted the bloody gift with no revulsion, and began admiring the gleaming rings. “I cannot refuse since you insist. Naturally you know that I shall treasure them, not for their weight in gold, but because they remind me of your courage.” She waited expectantly for a moment but when Dorieus remained silent she shook her head. “No, I cannot take them after all for you yourself have nothing to show for your heroism.”
To disprove that Dorieus pulled out the chain and medallion and showed them to her. Arsinoe took the chain and studied it closely. “I know what it is,” she exclaimed, “it is the emblem of a naval commander. At school one of the girls was given such a chain and lion medallion by a satisfied guest. I remember well how I wept in envy, knowing that no one would ever give me such a gift.”
Dorieus gritted his teeth, for Spartans are not prodigal by nature, and said, “Take this also if it pleases you. It means little to me and I doubt whether Turms will ever be able to give you one.”
Pretending amazement, Arsinoe refused the offer many times and declared, “No, no, I cannot accept, nor would I if I were not anxious to erase my youthful humiliation at the temple school. Only because Turms and you are such good friends can I accept the gift. But how can I ever repay your goodness?”
Friendship was far from my mind as I watched that unworthy spectacle. But when she realized that Dorieus had nothing else to offer, Arsinoe rose, rubbed her bare knees and said that she would no longer disturb him since he was undoubtedly suffering from his wounds.
By that time Dionysius had the vessels in a column and the oar-strokes quickened to overcome the pull of the shore currents. Having watched us from the corner of his eye, he now approached, thoughtfully fingering the large gold rings in his ears.
“Arsinoe,” he said respectfully, “the men believe they have a goddess on board. But in watching you they forget to row and in time they may have even more dangerous thoughts. It would be better also for Turms if you were to go below and not show yourself too frequently.”
Seeing a stubborn look on Arsinoe’s face I said hastily, “I know that no one can compel you to do so, but it would be a pity if the burning sun were to scorch your milk-white skin.”
She screamed in dismay and attempted to cover as much of her bareness as she could. “Why didn’t you say so immediately?” she reproached me and hastily went below to the compartment which the helmsmen had made comfortable for her. I was left to trail behind like a pet dog.
5.
For three days we rowed through the open sea and no winds awoke to help us on our way. At night we roped the vessels together and Arsinoe’s cat crept surreptitiously along the rails with flaming eyes, arousing the superstitious awe of the sailors. Nor did they grumble, but rowed willingly, believing every stroke took them farther from the dreaded Carthaginian galleys.
But on the fourth night Dorieus girded himself, began talking to his sword, sang war songs to rouse his spirit
