Tyrant

  Orpheus thus began his climb up the dark passage, trying to imagine the light step of his beloved behind him, trying to feel her cold breath at his back, thinking of when the sun would warm her, dreaming of when her bloodless lips would take on the moist hue of a pomegranate and open like a flower for his kisses. But belief failed him and the suspicion that he was being deceived grew until, as soon as he could see a hint of sunlight, he turned around.

  He saw her, heartbreakingly lovely and sorrowful, for just an instant, and then all he could hear was the sound of her screams as she was sucked back down into Erebus.

  Dionysius was determined to go there, although everyone tried to dissuade him. He wanted to be initiated into the mysteries, to drink the red liquid whose origins were known only to the temple priests. Leptines accompanied him, as Teseus had accompanied Pirithous, but at just a few steps from the cave, he – who feared nothing in this world, who had recklessly faced danger and death – grew pale and broke into an icy sweat. ‘Stop,’ was all Leptines could say. ‘Don’t go. There’s nothing down there, nothing to see.’

  But Dionysius did not heed him and advanced alone up to the mouth of the cave. It was dusk, and the shadows were lengthening on the high plain. Slender tongues of fog crept out of the forests like tapering fingers to obscure the green light of the meadows.

  He began to descend all alone towards the point at which it was said that once a year, on the night of the spring equinox, the ashen face of Persephone appeared as she rose to visit her mother.

  Dionysius, who believed in nothing, believed that Arete could see him from the sad place she was in. He thought that she could hear him as he called out her name with cries so loud, so desperate that the entire grotto boomed with them.

  He finally collapsed, exhausted, drained of strength. But then he began to feel a subtle yearning, a diffused chill creeping through his body, starting from his limbs. Was this Arete’s kiss? Was this her way of being close to him, of letting him sense her? He did not have Orpheus’s gift and he would never be able to move Persephone and black-veiled Hades to pity, but a song came to mind, the melodious air of that old serenade, the hymn of the singer of Acragas that she had loved so much and which had filled their hearts with joy on the night of their wedding. Oh, why hadn’t he thought of it? Why hadn’t he brought a soft-voiced singer, skilled at playing the lyre, so that song could reach her through that narrow chasm?

  Cold sleep seized him; he forgot his breathing as though it were no longer important, and his mind was lost in a dream: Arete took on the semblance of the wild girl who had loved him in the spring of the Anapus. She had her eyes and her skin, the taste of her lips was the same . . .

  He felt his heart pounding, and he saw her!

  The wild girl was in front of him, draped in a gorgeous dress, a wonderfully light and transparent peplum like those that the maidens of Ortygia offer to the goddess each year at her temple on the acropolis. Her hair was gathered at the nape of her neck with a blood-red ribbon. Her lips were moist and red, her eyes as deep as night. What marvellous transformation was this? How possible unless she was a creature from another world? He felt lost in her arms, cold as he had never been yet burning with fire at the same time. He heard her speak, for the first time in so long, she spoke with her voice and finally called him by name.

  ‘Take me with you, if you cannot come back,’ he told her, and he heard those words echoing inside of him as though he had thought them and not said them aloud, as if they had been said by the man he wanted to be and was no longer. Then her face and her body vanished into the shadows. Her peplum fluttered like fog in the evening air.

  He awoke in the dead of night in a quiet place near a crackling fire. He opened his eyes and saw Leptines’s face.

  ‘I saw her. I’m certain it was her. I’ve always known it was her. But this time I’m sure.’

  Leptines did not answer. He helped his brother into a sitting position and rubbed his shoulders, his neck and his arms at length until he’d regained his colour and warmth. Then he said: ‘Let’s go now. The stars that have protected you are about to set.’

  Having succeeded in subjugating the Sicels, as Gelon, victor over the Carthaginians at Himera, had done so many years before, Dionysius turned to the Chalcidic colonies of Naxos, Catane and Leontini. He was firmly convinced that the Sicilian Greeks must form a single coalition against their natural enemy, setting aside internal strife. Given that that was impossible to achieve peaceably, he had decided to accomplish his objective through force, as he had already done in his own city. He summoned Philistus and told him: ‘I don’t want a massacre while we are laying the grounds for a great pan-Hellenic undertaking. These cities must fall by treason.’

  Philistus, who thought he had heard everything, was amazed. ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘You don’t agree?’

  ‘Treason is hateful for both the betrayer and the solicitor.’

  ‘You never cease to surprise me, my friend. You continue to cultivate ethical concepts in your soul; you’re obviously still under the influence of that old big-nosed, buggy-eyed sophist who puts strange ideas into the heads of the young Athenians.’

  ‘Socrates is not a sophist.’

  ‘I say he is. Isn’t he the one who said: “The true wise man is he who knows he knows nothing”? And is that not the most deceitful and at the same time the most clever of sophisms? That old son of a bitch is not only convinced that he’s a wise man, but also that he knows more than anyone else around—’

  ‘Tell me what you want,’ Philistus cut him short.

  ‘Every man has his price. Find out who the most approachable characters are in Catane and Naxos, pay them whatever they ask, and let them turn over the cities to you. Later they’ll thank us. There’s no need to tell you that in order to comply with our request, they’ll need some justification to make them feel less despicable than what they are. Find something. The pan-Hellenic cause, for example – now there’s a fine justification. As far as the money goes, try to pass it off as an indemnity, an offer to propitiate the gods, a legacy deriving from an old hospitable pact, whatever comes to mind . . . Let me know, at the end, how much it’s cost you. No blood, Philistus, if possible.’

  In one month’s time, Arcesilaus handed over Catane and Procles betrayed Naxos, the oldest Greek colony in Sicily, so old that the statue of the founder at the port was so corroded by wind and salt that it was unrecognizable.

  Leontini remained alone, and surrendered without putting up any resistance. Dionysius decided to transfer all of the city’s inhabitants to Syracuse.

  The year after that, Rhegium and Messana, which were also Chalcidic colonies, imagining that it would be their turn next, fitted out a fleet and an army which marched south to engage battle with Dionysius’s forces. Leptines proposed facing off on an open field and exterminating them to take care of the problem at its root, but Dionysius stopped him just in time and instead summoned Philistus once again.

  ‘Do you think it will work with an army?’

  Philistus shrugged.

  ‘Don’t make a fuss here. Will it work or won’t it?’

  ‘I think it will.’

  ‘Then proceed. Those warriors may be marching at our sides next year against the Carthaginian provinces. I don’t want them to die, and I don’t want ours to die either. And tell me something:

  if it does work, which action is more ethical – mine, based on perfidy, or the one your philosopher suggests, based on moral rigour?’

  ‘You can’t reason that way,’ objected Philistus. ‘The question is simply posed in incorrect terms. If you start from mistaken assumptions, there’s no doubt that—’

  Dionysius shook his head. ‘Ah, philosophers! I avoid them like dog shit on the street.’

  Philistus sighed. ‘Is there someone in particular you have in mind, or must I find him?’

  Dionysius passed him a sheet with a couple of names scribbled in charcoal. When Philistus had read it, he rubbed his
thumb over it to blacken the sheet and make it illegible. Then, as his counsellor was leaving, Dionysius added: ‘It’s sowing time. That should make it easy for you.’

  Philistus reached his quarters and summoned the men he had working for him. Before three days had passed, just a few hours apart, two high officers in the Rhegine and Messanian armies, both members of the general staff, asked that an Assembly be called and spoke with such vehemence in favour of ceasing hostilities, condemning the irresponsible behaviour of their respective commanders-in-chief, that when it came time to vote, the motion which proposed immediate withdrawal of the army obtained an overwhelming majority.

  Dionysius was exultant. Not only was he the indisputable leader of his city, he would soon be the leader of his nation as well. He re-entered Syracuse between two cheering wings of the crowd, and shortly thereafter convoked Leptines, Philistus and a couple of friends from the Company. Old Heloris was ailing and no longer took part in the councils held in the Ortygia fortress.

  ‘The time has come for me to marry!’ he began.

  Philistus and the others looked each other in the eye, completely taken by surprise. They all wore such an astonished expression that none of them obviously had been forewarned of his intentions.

  ‘Who is she?’ asked Philistus.

  ‘You mean “they”.’

  ‘“They”? Why they?’

  ‘Because I will take two wives.’

  Leptines burst out laughing, as did some of the others.

  Philistus jumped up: ‘What’s to laugh about? I’ve never heard of anything so foolish. What’s the point? If you’ve got such an itch, find another way to scratch it.’

  ‘You don’t understand. My dual marriage will have symbolic significance . . .’

  ‘Listen well,’ Philistus interrupted him. ‘Up until now, the people, in one way or another, have followed you. They respect you for your intelligence and determination and for your past as a heroic combatant, but if you start pulling stunts like this they will ridicule you. You’re acting like a character from a comic play!’

  Leptines and the others could not contain their laughter.

  Dionysius pounded his fist on the table, shouting: ‘That’s enough!’

  They all fell silent.

  ‘If you want to know why I intend to marry two women on the same day, I’ll tell you. Otherwise, I’ll do it anyway, but the first one of you that cracks the slightest hint of an idiotic smile won’t even have the time to be sorry about it. Is that clear?’

  Philistus tried to make amends. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you, but that doesn’t change the way I feel about this: it’s a mistake. In any case, I am curious to know why you want to do such a thing.’

  Seemingly appeased, Dionysius went on. ‘I will marry two girls: a Sicilian and an Italian, to symbolize my position as chief and leader of both lands. The Sicilian girl will obviously be from Syracuse. I was thinking of Rhegium for the Italian girl, as a gesture of friendship. There must be any number of beautiful virgins from well-to-do families in Rhegium. You, Leptines, will go to ask for my bride’s hand in Syracuse, while you, Philistus, will go to ask for the Italian girl’s hand in Rhegium.’

  Leptines raised a finger. ‘Are questions allowed?’

  ‘If they’re not idiotic.’

  ‘That depends on your point of view.’

  ‘Then speak and stop breaking my balls about it.’

  ‘Let’s imagine that the two brides get along with each other and accept sharing you between them. Just how will you handle it in private? I mean, are you going to build a three-place bed or what? And which one are you going to fuck first, the Italian or . . .’

  Dionysius punched him in the face, sending him rolling to the ground. Then he got up and left, slamming the door behind him.

  ‘I’d say you were looking for that one,’ observed Philistus, helping Leptines to get up.

  20

  THE RHEGINES DISCUSSED Dionysius’s proposal to marry one of their daughters at length in the Assembly, while Philistus, who had brought the official request, waited patiently.

  Opinions differed: some asserted the importance of having such a powerful ally as the tyrant of Syracuse, others thought the proposal too risky precisely because he was a tyrant and adventurer, and because if he fell, he would drag into ruin everyone who had become part of his family. Furthermore, the fate of Naxos and Catane had given a dire example; after all, they were Chalcidic colonies like Rhegium herself, peopled long ago by the inhabitants of the metropolis of Chalcis in Euboea.

  Others still were furious over the request, which they judged impudent and shameless, and they proposed sending a prostitute as his fiancee to give him an idea of the consideration they had for him. In the end, the more moderate idea prevailed: to refuse his proposal without insulting him.

  Philistus, on his return journey, felt ill at the idea of informing Dionysius of their response, which would certainly fail to make him happy. When he was received, he was relieved to see that Leptines was present as well, a sign that the two brothers had made peace and that the storm had passed.

  Dionysius did not seem to react with particular disappointment. He only said: ‘They’ll regret it.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ added Philistus.

  ‘It’s not your fault. I’m sure you did your best . . . Did you mention that I’d be marrying another girl as well?’

  ‘I had no choice.’

  ‘No, you didn’t, did you?’

  ‘Are you so sure you wouldn’t be happy with just one wife? There are lots of other girls who would be pleased to provide you with a little variety in bed . . . you are the most powerful man west of the Ionian Gulf.’

  ‘That’s not the point. I made a decision and I don’t change my mind once it’s made up, you know that. I want two wives: an Italian and a Syracusan. You’ll be leaving again soon.’

  ‘Going where?’

  ‘Locri. What do you say to Locri?’

  ‘Right: the city of women.’

  ‘They’ve always been our friends. I’m sure they’ll accept.’

  ‘I hope so. And if they give me a choice? What type of woman do you prefer?’

  ‘Blonde, brunette?’ prompted Leptines.

  Dionysius lowered his head and thought to himself, ‘Arete . . .’ then raised his eyes to meet Philistus’s with a strange expression. ‘Dark . . . I’d prefer she had dark hair . . .’

  ‘Nothing else? I’m sure the Locrians will introduce me to their most attractive young women.’

  ‘High flanks, fine breasts . . .’ said Dionysius. ‘Do I have to tell you everything? No . . . it’s not very important, as long as she’s from a good family and has an adequate dowry.’

  ‘Naturally,’ nodded Philistus.

  ‘You’ll leave in exactly twenty days.’

  ‘Twenty days? Why, what’s happening in twenty days?’

  ‘What’s happening is that something will be ready . . . come on, I want you to see yourself,’ and they left the room together.

  ‘A gift? A special present?’ asked Philistus as he followed him down the stairs along with Leptines and the ever-present Aksal.

  ‘Wait and see.’

  Dionysius walked at a quick pace towards the entry to the dockyards, while Philistus tried to guess from Leptines’s expression what on earth he might be meaning to show him in that noisy, smoke-filled place. They reached a dock fenced off by a palisade and guarded by armed men. Two of them opened a gate and had them enter. Philistus stood open-mouthed with astonishment.

  ‘A quinquereme,’ said Dionysius, smiling and indicating a formidable battle vessel, propped up on bilge blocks in the middle of the shipyard and almost ready for launching.

  ‘A quinquereme? What does that mean?’ asked Philistus.

  ‘It means a ship with five modules. Manned by one hundred more oarsmen than a trireme and equipped with a three-ram rostrum made of solid iron and weighing five talents, twice as heavy as any used until now. A beauty, isn?
??t she? I designed her myself.’

  ‘It’s the biggest warship ever built anywhere in the world,’ commented Leptines. ‘The Boubaris.’

  ‘She’s the ship that will take you to Locri to fetch my betrothed,’ added Dionysius, walking along the flank of the mighty ship. ‘Imagine the amazement of the people as they see her sail into port, her aplustre and figurehead all decked out in gold and silver, her standards waving in the wind. Imagine how swiftly the news will spread, how the sailors in every port will be talking about her, giving rise to all sorts of rumours about her size and magnificence. And just imagine when you return! I’ve planned everything. As soon as the Boubaris is sighted, a chariot with four white horses will depart from the house of my Syracusan fiance´e. At precisely the moment when the girl steps off the ship, here at the dockyards, the other bride will arrive from the opposite side of the square on a resplendent quadriga . . .’

  Philistus heaved a long sigh. ‘Nice ceremony, no doubt about it.’

  ‘But that’s not all!’ added Dionysius, leading his guest to a platform from which he could see the entire dockyards. ‘Look, twenty-nine more galleys like this one, already under construction.’

  ‘Gods!’ exclaimed Philistus, speechless, letting his eyes roam over the expanse of gigantic hulls around which hundreds of shipwrights, caulkers, carpenters, rope-makers, armourers and blacksmiths scurried.

  ‘And it’s not finished here,’ continued Dionysius. ‘There are more marvels to see. Follow me.’ He left the platform and headed towards the side wall of the fortress, where they entered through a secondary door that led to one of the two inner courtyards.