The Etruscan by Mika Waltari Page A

dreamed of being when we lived in the sooty wooden huts of Phocaea.”
    But the men showed little interest in the plan. The thought of dangerous waters where death lurked behind every mast and wake did not arouse cheers.
    Dionysius looked at them. “One month,” he pleaded. “Only one month, I ask for, no more. Then I shall summon the finest east wind in the name of the gods and we will sail directly west across the whole width of the sea to Massilia.”
    A few of the men observed mildly that a fair amount of booty had come their way already at Lade. The voyage to Massilia through strange waters was fearfully long, and sometimes not even an entire season sufficed for it. So if their intention was to reach Massilia, it would be best to turn the prows in that direction immediately and pray for favorable winds. But the wisest course, they said, would be to seek refuge in the Greek cities of Sicily or Italy, in that great West whose reputation for wealth and extravagant living had spread throughout the world.
    Dionysius listened, furrowed his brow, and then asked with assumed meekness if someone else had advice to give him.
    “Say what you have to say, then we shall know where each of us stands. Everyone has the right to speak and vote and express his opinion, so speak freely. First let us see who wish to go directly to Sicily or Italy, where the Greek cities jealously guard their respective territories and the lands have been partitioned for centuries.”
    A number of the men consulted hastily among themselves and declared that a partridge in the hand was better than ten on a branch. Therefore they humbly requested their share of the booty and one of the vessels with which to sail to Sicily.
    “It is manly and right that you have spoken so freely,” said Dionysius. “You may have your share of the loot and a generous share, but I cannot let you have a vessel. The ships are my own and all your loot would not suffice to buy one. Still, it is best for us to go our separate ways as soon as possible, so take your share and start swimming towards Sicily with the golden chains around your necks. If you hesitate I will gladly help you over the railing with the tip of my sword. The water is warm and you can determine the direction by the stars.”
    He took a few threatening steps and the other men laughingly began jostling the unfortunates towards the side, pretending to toss them overboard. Bitterly regretting their thoughtless words, the group pleaded loudly to be permitted to accompany Dionysius.
    He shook his head and sighed. “What changeable creatures you are! One moment you want this, another moment that. But let us again be the same big family in which everyone has the right to express his thoughts freely and to vote as he wishes. Let each of us who wishes to follow me first to Phoenician waters and then to Massilia raise his hand.”
    All the men, including Dorieus and me, raised their hands. Only Mikon, smiling silently, did not.
    Dionysius moved among the men, patting their shoulders and calling them gallant. But in front of Mikon he paused, his face darkening. “What of you, physician? Do you intend to return home on the back of a dolphin?”
    Mikon met his eyes unflinchingly. “I will follow you willingly, Dionysius, and will continue to do so for as long a time as is intended. But where we will go after leaving the Phoenician waters is completely up to fate. For that reason I do not defy the immortals by raising my hand.”
    His manner was so docile that Dionysius could not even reproach him.
    Turning back to his men, Dionysius shouted, “Tomorrow morning let us have a brisk west wind. For that I have already sacrificed to the Phoenician god on our ‘prow and bathed his face, hands and feet with human blood according to the wishes of Phoenician deities. But to Poseidon and the gods of the sea I shall now offer this golden chain worth several houses and vineyards to prove to you how thoroughly I believe in my good