please us, but instead to sell our lives dearly. In the darkness we manned the two fastest vessels, thrust them out to sea and, regardless of rank, seized the oars.
Noticing the two ships making for the sea, Tyrant Gelon began to roar so loudly that we heard his curses above the crackle of the burning vessels on the shore. Then we said to one another, “Tonight Etruscan lives are cheap and the gods do not watch over us at sea. Let us avenge the death of our comrades by sinking a Greek trireme as a sign that the sea still belongs to the Tyrrhenians.”
Our determination saved us, for the Syracusan triremes were not expecting an attack and were preparing to sink us as we sought to flee. As they backed water and flashed signal lights to one another we increased our speed to the utmost and almost simultaneously both our rams struck the side of one of the triremes with a crash of oaken planks. Immediately the mighty vessel tilted and its Greeks fell into the sea. Our attack was so unexpected that they did not at first even know what had happened, for we heard the commander shout that he had hit a reef. Quickly we rowed free of the sinking vessel, bumped into another trireme and slid into the protective darkness of the sea without ourselves realizing how it had all happened.
We rowed through the night and towards morning a wind rose and storm clouds pursued us and drove our vessels toward the Italian coast. Finally we had to put ashore at Cumae to repair the damage and obtain provisions. Here Tyrant Demadotos welcomed us in a friendly manner, but when he heard about the battle of Himera and the crushing defeat of Carthage, he said, “Legally and by testament I am the heir of Tar-quinius, the last ruler of Rome, although I still have not received compensation for his property. I have never been ill-disposed toward the Etruscans, but I must think of my responsibilities toward my city and my family. Therefore, I greatly fear that I must hold both vessels as security until King Tarquinius’ legacy has been clarified.”
While we were in Cumae, more as prisoners than as guests, disturbing news came from Poseidonia. There a noisy crowd had robbed the shops of the Carthaginian merchants and the Tyrrhenian storehouses, but instead of punishing the criminals the city’s autocrat had imprisoned the Carthaginians and Etruscans, ostensibly for their own security.
But even more alarming news awaited us. Over the sea, on the wings of the goddess of victory, came news that the Athenians had completely destroyed the Persian fleet in the straits of Salamis near Athens. The-Great King himself had had to flee back to Asia by land lest the Greeks destroy his bridge of ships across the Bosphorus and cut off his escape. True, the mighty Persian army had plundered and burned Athens and overturned the images of the gods, but it had suffered heavy losses at Thermopylae and its wintering in Greece would be difficult with Athenian ships controlling the seas to Asia. Nor could the Persian army, weakened by hunger and cold, be expected to vanquish the Spartan-led Greek land forces the following spring, when only three hundred Spartans had been able to hold them at Thermopylae until the Athenians had had time to transport their people to the safety of the islands.
Although I knew the Greek habit of exaggerating success, the same news came from so many directions that I had to believe it. Thus the Etruscan expedition to Himera became purposeless, for I had tried to console myself by thinking that the Etruscans’ blood had not been shed in vain since even in dying they had prevented the Greek cities in the west from giving aid to their mother country.
Upon hearing of our plight Lars Arnth Velthuru sent Demadotos a message in which he threatened to withdraw all Tarquinian merchants from Cumae and confiscate all Cumaean supplies in Tarquinia unless both warships and their men were immediately released. Gelon for his part sent a herald from Syracuse to declare that he would consider it a hostile act if Demadotos were to free warships which had interfered in Sicily’s internal affairs.
Demadotos sighed and groaned, clutched his head and lamented, “What misfortune sent your vessels to our harbor? My weak heart cannot endure such conflict.”
We replied that the traditional friendship between Cumae and the Etruscan seaports had prompted us to seek refuge in his harbor.
“Yes, yes, undoubtedly,” he said. “But Gelon of Syracuse is a powerful and ugly man. If he takes offense I will be lost and so will Cumaean trade.”
He pondered the matter and finally found a solution. “We have our famous oracle, Hierofila, who inherited her position from antiquity even before there was a city at Cumae. The gods speak through her mouth and I doubt whether even Gelon dare question her decision.”
He himself did not wish to go to the sibyl’s cave, pleading that it was a trying journey and the cave’s unpleasant vapors made his head ache. Instead he sent his adviser with the three of us who had been chosen by lots, and said to him, “Take my gift to the hag and demand that she for once say yes or no without babbling nonsense.”
The sibyl’s cave was in a gorge high on a mountaintop and the goat path leading to it was worn smooth from centuries of suppliants’ steps. The temple itself was simple and faded by rain and wind but we were told that vast treasures were hidden in caves beneath, although from the priests’ appearance it was difficult to believe. They had simple woolen bands around their heads and a coarse brown robe on their shoulders.
The sulphuric vapors of the cave were stifling. Our eyes smarted and we coughed so that we saw the interior of the cave and Hierofila on her pedestal through a veil of tears. The cave was unbearably hot because she kept a perpetual fire in the hearth. She had long ago lost her hair but vanity prompted her to wear a peaked cap. A wan girl with unkempt hair served her, and in the girl’s eyes I recognized the wild eyes of the Delphic pythia and guessed that Hierofila was training her to be her successor. Hierofila’s own eyes were like gray stone. She must have been completely blind.
Upon our arrival the girl began to run restlessly to and fro and thrust her face to each of ours in turn. Then she burst into wild laughter and began to shout, scream and leap like a madwoman until Hierofila commanded her to be silent in an oddly hollow and metallic voice which I would not have expected to issue from the lips of an old woman. Then Demadotos’ emissary bowed his head before her and began to explain our mission.
But Hierofila ordered him also to be silent. “Why are you chattering? I know of these men and foresaw their arrival in Cumae when the ravens disappeared from the mountain and flew in flocks over the sea from whence these men came. Nor will I permit the spirits of the dead with their swollen tongues and gaping eyes to force their way into my dwelling with these men. Go your way and take the deceased with you.”
She began to pant and to make forbidding gestures. After consulting among ourselves the two Etruscans left, summoning the spirits of the deceased.
The sibyl grew calm. “Now there is room to breathe again. But whence came that brightness that surrounds me and the roar of an invisible storm?”
The girl, who had been busy in a corner of the cave, stepped forth. She touched Hierofila’s hand and placed on my head a wreath of dry bay leaves.
Hierofila began to titter. Staring at me with blind eyes she said, “You favorite of the gods, I see the blue of the moon at your temples but the sun shines from your face. I myself would tie a wreath of myrtle and willow for you, but content yourself with bay since we have nothing else.”
Demadotos’ emissary thought that she was raving and impatiently began to explain our mission once more. But again Hierofila interrupted him. “What do two vessels mean when a thousand vessels will clash on the sea near Cumae? Let Demadotos permit these men to go in peace and release their vessels. Emblems, not ships, determine wars.”
Her voice swelled as though she were shouting through a metal trumpet. “Demadotos does not need ships but emblems. The god has spoken.” When she had regained her breath she said more calmly, “Go your way, you stupid man, and leave me alone with the messenger of the gods.”
Demadotos’ adviser entered the prophecy in a wax tablet and tried to draw me out of the cave with him, but the girl fell upon him, scratching his face with her long nails. Then she wound her arms around my neck. She was not clean, but such a powerful smell of bay leaves and strong herbs exuded from her skin and clothes that she did not seem repulsive. I said that I would remain in the cave for a moment since that was apparently intended, and Demadotos’ emissary left alone, holding the corner of his mantle to his mouth. Then only did Hierofila descend from her pedestal and open a wooden shutter in the wall, letting in fresh air that immediately swept away the poisonous vapors. Through a cleft in the mountain I saw the sky and the blue of the sea.
The sibyl stepped before me, felt me with her hands, touched my cheeks and hair with her fingertips, and said with feeling, “Son of your father, I recognize you. Why do you not kiss your mother?”
I stooped, touched the floor of the cave and kissed my palm to indicate that I acknowledged the earth as my
