to piracy, in accordance with the apparent wishes of the gods. Because he did not rob Greek ships, the Greek cities in Sicily soon secretly began to shield him and the ‘fleet which he had assembled. Indeed, during the succeeding years, Dionysius’ daring activity at sea did much to bring about further deterioration of the already bad relations between Carthage and the Sicilian Greek cities.
I have related all this about Dionysius and his men for he was a man worth remembering. The thirty-three who were with him I would list by name, but I no longer remember them.
4.
During that winter in Segesta a strange oppression came over me. There was no apparent reason for it, since I was highly respected as Dorieus’ companion and Arsinoe for her part had forgotten her capri-ciousness and withdrawn from the public eye to await our child. She grew fatter and calmer and sometimes in her moments of fear turned to me with greater tenderness than ever before. But she did not speak much and it seemed at times as though I were living with a strange woman. Whenever I thought of our coming child, it, too, seemed a stranger. . But if I suffered, Dorieus did likewise. He had reached his goal and in reaching it had lost it, so that he no longer knew what he wanted. His experiences at sea had so unsettled him that during his spells of melancholy his eyes stared vacantly as though everything in him were but gray salt. He had lost all interest in Tanakil and often spoke to her sharply.
Dog breeding and horse racing did not appeal to him. Instead, he tried to interest the Segestan youths in developing their bodies in the Greek manner. They watched his skillful performances in the stadium with respect, but observed that there was nothing admirable in exhausting oneself when professional athletes could obtain better results than any amateur.
Dorieus did succeed in calling together all able-bodied men regardless of rank or trade for military exercises on certain days. Many of them complained of aches and reported themselves ill time and again, but the people realized the necessity for learning to use arms if they intended to retain their power. Dorieus pointed out that a well-armed city is more respected at negotiations than a weak one and the people knew that with the coming of spring the council of Carthage would hold them responsible for the fate of its emissaries. Although the Segestans intended to blame Dionysius for everything, a feeling of guilt induced the people to run themselves to a sweat and to strain their limbs at the exercises which they heartily despised.
After a time they gladly acceded to Dorieus’ suggestion that the city install as a permanent garrison one thousand youths from among those who had indicated aptitude and who had no desire to follow other trades. Dorieus divided the youths into groups of one’hundred, lodged them in various houses and himself often slept among them to avoid sharing the marriage bed with Tanakil. He maintained strict discipline and each had to obey the leaders selected by him, but despite this the robberies and outrages increased. The only difference was that the guilty were not discovered as readily as before. If one of Dorieus’ wreath-crowned youths was found guilty of a crime, Dorieus had him severely whipped.
“I am not punishing you for the crime,” Dorieus would explain, “but for the fact that you were discovered.” That appealed greatly to his men who admired him more than the city council which paid their wages.
Dorieus managed to pass his time, but whenever a melancholy mood came upon him he retired to his room for many days and did not consent to talk even to Tanakil. Through the walls we heard him cry out to his forefather Herakles and endeavor to conjure up again the white-limbed Thetis.
When he had recovered, he called Mikon and me to him, drank wine with us and explained, “You cannot know how difficult it is to be a king, and bear the responsibility for an entire city’s welfare. My divine heritage likewise complicates my position and makes me lonely.” He turned his head painfully. “Although I have appeased my father’s spirit and attained my legacy, my head aches to think that I shall leave behind nothing but enduring fame. I should have an heir to give purpose to all that has happened. But Tanakil can no longer give birth to one, and I have not the slightest desire to adopt her sons, as she suggests.”
I admitted that such a problem was enough to make one’s head ache. “Yet of us three, you should look to the future with the greatest confidence,” I said consolingly, “for the gods have charted your path with such clarity that you could hardly have done other than what you did. In your position I would not worry about an heir, for in time you will surely have one if it is so ordained.”
I thought the moment propitious for announcing Arsinoe’s condition since it could no longer be concealed. It was surprising that Mikon’s experienced physician’s eye had not already noticed it.
“Not all are equally favored by fortune, Dorieus. I have gained nothing from our expeditions, I am still your companion and have not even my own hearth, although poor Arsinoe is awaiting my child. It can no longer be concealed, for she should give birth in but a few months, at the darkest time of the year.”
Enthusiastically I babbled on. “You, Dorieus, naturally know little about women’s affairs, but you, Mikon, should have noticed it long ago. Therefore congratulate me and let us shake hands. You have everything else, Dorieus, but I shall have what you never will have unless the situation unexpectedly changes.”
Dorieus jumped to his feet, knocked over a valuable bowl and demanded, “Is that the truth? How can a priestess have a child?”
Mikon evaded my look and muttered, “Are you sure that you are not mistaken? I would not have wished that to happen to you.”
In my joy I failed to understand, and hastened to fetch Arsinoe to confirm the fact. Tanakil followed us suspiciously.
Arsinoe stood before us, already awkward and with a dreamy look in her eyes. “It is true,” she admitted humbly. “I am expecting a child which will be born at the most dismal time of the year. But I assure you that I am still under the protection of the goddess. My dreams and omens have clearly indicated that.”
Tanakil’s face darkened in envy. Glaring alternately at Arsinoe and Dorieus, she screamed, “I -suspected it but could not believe my own eyes. You have brought shame upon my house. Don’t drag the goddess into this affair, either. It is the fruit of your own cunning in trying to outdo me in shrewdness.”
Dorieus stared at Arsinoe and raised a hand to silence Tanakil. “Shut your mouth, you Phoenician hag, or you will become still uglier in my eyes than you already are. This is not your house but the king’s residence which I won with my sword. And don’t envy Arsinoe. Instead, look upon her condition as an omen, although I must think hard to determine just how it is to be interpreted.”
He covered his eyes for a moment, then his face softened and he smiled. “Don’t be afraid, Arsinoe. I shall take you under my protection and all will be well. The child will not bring you shame but rather glory. Tell me, do you think that it will be a boy or a girl?”
Arsinoe said shyly that one could not know in advance, but that she felt almost certain it was to be a boy.
I remember little about the birth except that it happened on the rawest night of the year and that the boy came into the world at dawn while a cold rain poured down on the land. Arsinoe nursed the child herself, for despite her apparent frailness the goddess blessed her with an abundance of milk. The boy himself was strong and cried lustily from the very beginning. I was so relieved that I wanted to name him immediately, but Dorieus said, “There is no hurry. Let us wait for the right omen.”
Arsinoe agreed. “Don’t hurt Dorieus by choosing a name hastily. It will be better for us and for the boy also if Dorieus names him.”
I was not happy to have Dorieus interfere in matters that were not his concern. He seemed as bemused as I, watched the child with interest and even gave an offering of thanks in the temple which he had robbed from the Phoenicians’ god of fire and dedicated to Herakles.
As spring came, with its bright rains and violent storms that felled trees in the forests, Dorieus became increasingly gloomy. He began to stare at me peculiarly, and frequently I would come upon him watching the child and talking with Arsinoe. As soon as I entered they would stop and Arsinoe would begin chattering about something foolish.
With the approach of the full moon I grew restless, had bad dreams and began to walk in my sleep, something which had never happened to me before. I felt that Artemis was haunting me and tried many ways to avoid leaving the room at night, but nothing helped. Most alarming was the fact that Arsinoe’s cat always followed
