Free The Etruscan by Mika Waltari

while the snow-white one ran her fingertips temptingly across the corners of my mouth.
    Dionysius frowned. “What do they want?”
    The priests of Tyre explained reluctantly that the girls wanted us to sacrifice to Aphrodite. Since all could not do it, the girls wished to choose those from whom they would accept the offering.
    Dionysius loosened the Negro girl’s fingers from his beard, waged a violent spiritual struggle with himself, and said, “He who has taken one step must also take the next. We would have to stop at any rate to eat hot food while the sea is calm. But I don’t want to take advantage of my position. Let us draw lots and in that manner choose the four men to represent us.”
    The goddess smiled impartially, for a winning pebble—one red, one black and one yellow—was drawn by each vessel. But incredible as it was, I myself drew the white pebble from the barrel. I stared at it in alarm, remembering the touch of the slender fingers on my face. Quickly I passed the pebble to Mikon.
    He looked down into his palm. “I thought the moon ruled you. Only now do I understand why the storm which you conjured” up led us to the temple at Akraia.”
    I bid him stop chattering and hold up the pebble in his hand for all to see. Then the rowers washed and scrubbed and anointed those who had drawn the winning pebbles and ornamented them with chains and rings selected from the loot.
    While the rest of us filed by the pots for our meal, the four fortunates, Mikon in the lead because of his position, stepped into the deckhouse. The priests replaced the curtain and began to chant hoarsely.
    When we had eaten and drunk the wine which Dionysius had served in honor of the occasion, the sun began to drop ominously toward the west. Dionysius became impatient and finally sent for the four men.
    Our hands rose involuntarily to our mouths when we saw them stagger forth with the aid of their companions. Their eyes were glazed, their tongues hung out and they could hardly stand. Even Mikon clung to the necks of two oarsmen, and when he attempted to jump aboard our vessel he fell flat on his face.
    Dionysius ordered the crews to the oars and turned the prows of our ships northeastward as though our intention was to return to Ionian waters by rounding the mainland side of Cyprus. He surmised that the priests of Tyre would immediately inform the Persians of our presence and devised a daring plan. As soon as the sacrificial vessel had disappeared from view we changed to a southeasterly course. A smiling breath of wind began blowing over the sea as though Aphrodite herself were capriciously bestowing her favors on us.
    Mikon raised himself shakily to his knees and vomited before he had time to drag himself to the side. Then a rational look came into his eyes once more.
    “I have experienced nothing like this in all my forty years,” he said with a weak smile. “I thought that I knew much but actually I knew nothing. Now at last I believe in Aphrodite’s invisible golden net in which even the strongest man is ensnared.” He returned the smooth white pebble that I had given him. “Keep it, Turms. It was not intended for me but for you, you favorite of the goddess.”
    I accepted the pebble and kept it, just as I had kept the black pebble which I had found on the earth floor of the temple of Cybele in Sardis. And this white pebble also signified the end of an era in my life although I did not know it at the time.
    Mikon spoke a warning. “The gods not only give, they also take away. It is apparent that Artemis is your goddess, but for some reason Aphrodite also has chosen you. This may be unfortunate, since both these powerful goddesses are jealous of each other. You must be careful not to sacrifice too much to either but try to retain the favor of both as they compete for you.”
    But all that was forgotten in the exhaustion of laboring at the oars as we sailed in Phoenician waters. The moon grew full and we raged over the sea