luck. I sacrifice it gladly, knowing that in the near future I shall receive another even more valuable.”
With those words he strode to the prow and threw his chain into the sea. The men groaned upon hearing the splash but, convinced of Dionysius’ belief in his luck, they praised him and began scratching the deck to confirm the sacrifice and conjure up the wind.
Dionysius sent the men to sleep, promising to take the watch himself until daybreak. Again the men praised him, and soon the only sound over the sigh of the sea and the creak of the vessels was a heavy snoring.
I could not sleep for thinking of the unknown future. The sheep’s bones had indicated the west, and whatever other methods of divination Dorieus and I had tried, they likewise had pointed westward. Stubbornly we had set forth for the east, but winged fate would soon take us to the westernmost shore of the sea.
My throat grew dry at the realization that I had lost lonia for all time, and I groped my way through the sleeping men to the water container. Then I climbed to the deck, looked at the silver of the sky and the darkening sea, listened to the slap of the waves and felt the slow rocking of the vessel beneath me.
I was aroused from my thoughts by a faint clanking against the side of the ship. Barefooted and silently I reached Dionysius just as he was pulling something up from the sea hand over hand.
“Are you fishing?” I asked.
Dionysius jumped so that he almost lost his balance. “Oh, it’s only you, Turms,” he said, trying to hide the object behind his back. But his effort was futile, for even in the darkness I recognized the golden chain that he had so ostentatiously thrown into the sea.
He was not at all abashed but laughed and said, “As a literate man you are undoubtedly unprejudiced about offerings and such. My offering to Poseidon was so to speak only allegorical, just as the Ionian sages call their fables of the gods allegories and interpret them in many ways. As a frugal man I naturally tied some string to my chain and fastened the other end firmly to the ship’s prow before throwing the treasure overboard.”
“But what about the west wind that you promised?” I asked.
“I sensed it already in the evening from the color of the sea and the sighs of the darkness,” confessed Dionysius calmly. “Mark my words, even without the chain we will have a brisk west wind. You will see that the sun rises behind a cloud and that with the wind we will have a drenching rain.”
His artlessness frightened me, for even the greatest scoffer retains in some corner of his heart a certain respect toward offerings.
“Don’t you really believe in the deities?” I asked.
“I believe what I believe,” he answered evasively, “but one thing I do know is that even if I had thrown a hundred chains into the sea we would not have had a west wind unless the sea had previously indicated its coming.”
6.
As Dionysius had predicted, the early morning brought a wet squall that pushed us eastward with creaking masts. So violent was the churning of the sea that Dorieus, still suffering from the blow on his head, vomited time and again. Many of Dionysius’ men likewise lay on the deck, clinging to the railing and unable to eat.
The west wind drove westbound merchant ships to shelter, leaving the deserted sea to Dionysius. His luck accompanied him, for when we had reached the straits between Rhodes and the mainland the wind died down. Dawn brought with it a land wind and a veritable fleet of vessels loaded to the gunwales with grain and oil for the Persian navy near Miletus. Their crews greeted us gaily, misled by the Phoenician ship and the Persian emblems which Dionysius displayed.
Presumably Dionysius had little interest in such cargo and merely sought to prove to himself and to his men that he was still waging the Ionian war. We seized the largest of the ships before its crew realized what was happening. When Dionysius learned that the
With those words he strode to the prow and threw his chain into the sea. The men groaned upon hearing the splash but, convinced of Dionysius’ belief in his luck, they praised him and began scratching the deck to confirm the sacrifice and conjure up the wind.
Dionysius sent the men to sleep, promising to take the watch himself until daybreak. Again the men praised him, and soon the only sound over the sigh of the sea and the creak of the vessels was a heavy snoring.
I could not sleep for thinking of the unknown future. The sheep’s bones had indicated the west, and whatever other methods of divination Dorieus and I had tried, they likewise had pointed westward. Stubbornly we had set forth for the east, but winged fate would soon take us to the westernmost shore of the sea.
My throat grew dry at the realization that I had lost lonia for all time, and I groped my way through the sleeping men to the water container. Then I climbed to the deck, looked at the silver of the sky and the darkening sea, listened to the slap of the waves and felt the slow rocking of the vessel beneath me.
I was aroused from my thoughts by a faint clanking against the side of the ship. Barefooted and silently I reached Dionysius just as he was pulling something up from the sea hand over hand.
“Are you fishing?” I asked.
Dionysius jumped so that he almost lost his balance. “Oh, it’s only you, Turms,” he said, trying to hide the object behind his back. But his effort was futile, for even in the darkness I recognized the golden chain that he had so ostentatiously thrown into the sea.
He was not at all abashed but laughed and said, “As a literate man you are undoubtedly unprejudiced about offerings and such. My offering to Poseidon was so to speak only allegorical, just as the Ionian sages call their fables of the gods allegories and interpret them in many ways. As a frugal man I naturally tied some string to my chain and fastened the other end firmly to the ship’s prow before throwing the treasure overboard.”
“But what about the west wind that you promised?” I asked.
“I sensed it already in the evening from the color of the sea and the sighs of the darkness,” confessed Dionysius calmly. “Mark my words, even without the chain we will have a brisk west wind. You will see that the sun rises behind a cloud and that with the wind we will have a drenching rain.”
His artlessness frightened me, for even the greatest scoffer retains in some corner of his heart a certain respect toward offerings.
“Don’t you really believe in the deities?” I asked.
“I believe what I believe,” he answered evasively, “but one thing I do know is that even if I had thrown a hundred chains into the sea we would not have had a west wind unless the sea had previously indicated its coming.”
6.
As Dionysius had predicted, the early morning brought a wet squall that pushed us eastward with creaking masts. So violent was the churning of the sea that Dorieus, still suffering from the blow on his head, vomited time and again. Many of Dionysius’ men likewise lay on the deck, clinging to the railing and unable to eat.
The west wind drove westbound merchant ships to shelter, leaving the deserted sea to Dionysius. His luck accompanied him, for when we had reached the straits between Rhodes and the mainland the wind died down. Dawn brought with it a land wind and a veritable fleet of vessels loaded to the gunwales with grain and oil for the Persian navy near Miletus. Their crews greeted us gaily, misled by the Phoenician ship and the Persian emblems which Dionysius displayed.
Presumably Dionysius had little interest in such cargo and merely sought to prove to himself and to his men that he was still waging the Ionian war. We seized the largest of the ships before its crew realized what was happening. When Dionysius learned that the
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