Free The Etruscan by Mika Waltari Page B

you see tells me that we have arrived at Sicily. If you crave large cities we can continue northward to Croton or south to Syracuse, the largest of the Sicilian cities.”
    The helmsmen were delighted. “We are wealthy men now and it would be easiest for us to sell our loot in a large city. We could also have our vessels repaired quickly in some shipyard or even buy new ships with which to continue to Massilia in the spring. But above all we need rest and good food, music, wine and garlands to speed our recovery from these weeks at sea.”
    “It’s true that you’ll find such pleasures most readily in a large city,” admitted Dionysius, “but large cities are also fortified cities. They have their walls and their mercenaries and their guarded ports, perhaps even warships. They also receive news from the outside world sooner than small cities.”
    He looked sharply at the men. “Our conscience is clear, for we know that we have waged legal warfare against the Persians. But we are too wealthy not to arouse suspicions no matter how we try to explain the source of our loot. And wine has caused many a man to talk his head off. We know our own talkativeness. After all, the immortals chose to make us lonians the glibbest of all peoples.
    “No,” he concluded, “we must spend the winter in some secluded city and buy the friendship of its tyrant. Three warships and a trained band like ours are not to be scorned by a minor tyrant trying to preserve his independence. There are such cities on the northern coast whence we could easily set forth for Massilia in the spring. And so I must ask one final effort of you, valiant brothers. Let us sail courageously through the straits which have brought destruction to hundreds of ships, for otherwise we will lose all that we have won.”
    The men paled to think of the whirlpools, currents and treacherous winds of those fabled straits, but having protested for a time they grew calmer. When night fell we heard a dull roar and saw a red glow lighting the sky above the smoke-peaked mountain. Ashes began to rain onto the decks and the rowers no longer demanded to go ashore.
    Dorieus alone smiled and proclaimed, “The land of my father’s death greets me with thunder and pillars of fire. That sign suffices for me. I know now why the sheep’s bones pointed westward.”
    Mikon for his part said, “Dionysius’ luck has brought us thus far. Let him continue to lead us.”
    I also felt that the gods hardly would have protected us from the terrors of the sea only to sink our ships ignominiously in the infamous straits. So ended the conference and Dionysius was permitted to carry out his plan. In the silence of the night he sacrificed our Phoenician pilots to the pitiless god of the straits. When, the next morning, I found them gone I was sorry for I had talked to them and for all their foreignness they had shown themselves to be the same kind of people as we were.
    The straits were as treacherous as they were said to be and we struggled mightily to pass through them. More dead than alive, and with the crash of the breakers still echoing in our ears, we finally reached the autumnal blue of the Tyrrhenian Sea. Now a favoring wind helped us as we sailed along the mountainous coast within sight of land. Dionysius gave offerings of thanks, poured wine into the sea, and even chopped off the feet of the Phoenician god and threw him overboard with the words, “I no longer need you, god, whoever you may be, for you don’t know these waters.”
    But our leaking ships, damaged even more by the straits, moved with difficulty. Each of us yearned for land, for fresh water and fruit, but Dionysius pushed onward, sniffing the breeze, talking to fishermen and purchasing their catch. But as we sailed, the water inside the ship rose ever higher.
    By evening the wind began to blow us toward land. We saw the mouth of a river and a city surrounded by a thick wall. Columns of steam arose from the hot springs around