Zama

by Dan Armstrong

  “Do you still grow the best figs in Sicily?”

  This didn’t elicit the smile I had hoped for. “Probably not,” she replied, now using the towel to dry my face.

  “Do you still sell them in town?”

  “One day a week.”

  “I came out here hoping I might find you. I didn’t think it would happen quite this way.”

  “You came looking for me?” I saw that she still had a smattering of freckles across the top of her cheeks.

  “I wanted to apologize for the way we parted.”

  “What do you mean? I’m the one who should apologize. I wasn’t honest with you.”

  I shook my head. “The times were bad. I didn’t quite understand your predicament.”

  Tears began to form in her eyes. She abruptly turned away, and without facing me, said, “I’m glad I was able to help you, but I have work to do.”

  I stood up. “Of course. Can I pay you for the water?”

  She wiped the tears from her cheeks, then faced me. “Don’t be silly. I should never have said such a thing.”

  I could see how poor she was. I had a few coins with me. Apparently my attackers weren’t thieves, just angry locals. I took a coin out of my tunic pocket. “Please, take this. I would feel better if you did.”

  Moira hesitated then took the coin. “Thank you,” she said looking at the ground, embarrassed by her situation.

  “What day do you go into the market? I will come find you and buy some figs.”

  “It’s never the same,” she said quickly. “Work at the farm dictates when I go.” She took her children’s hands and turned away, walking toward the orchard. She stopped to call over her shoulder. “One day is as likely as another. Look for me—every sale counts.”

  “Then expect to see me,” I called back. I watched her enter the orchard, then I headed back to the road. On the way, I realized in a panic that the spyglass wasn’t hanging from my belt.

  I didn’t understand how badly I had been beaten until I tried to hurry across the pasture. I found the spyglass lying in the weeds. It must have caught on the fence when I had crawled through. I checked the lenses, then aimed it toward the orchard, but Moira and her children had disappeared into the trees.

  Seeing Moira affected me in ways I wasn’t expecting. She wasn’t rich or blond like Sempronia. She likely had no interest in geometry or numbers—beyond the price of her figs—and she wasn’t the laughing, adventurous girl who had stolen my heart years earlier. She was something more. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I knew I would seek her out again, just to make sure it was her, not the blows I had taken, that was causing my head to swim.

  CHAPTER 37

  Two days later I was called to headquarters. Scipio, wearing a toga, which I had never seen on a Roman officer in camp before, was looking at a scroll spread out on a large table when I entered. His naval commander and friend since childhood Gaius Laelius stood beside him, wearing a bronze breastplate, no helmet, and a gladius at his hip. I had seen him speak on several occasions in the Senate, but I had never met him. He was tall, about the same age as Scipio, and not particularly handsome, with a long narrow face, thick brown eyebrows, and bushy hair that receded somewhat at the temples.

  Scipio introduced me as a scribe and mapmaker and motioned for me to come forward. The two men were looking at a map of the African coastline.

  “This is a map that Laelius has been working on,”

  Scipio said. “He’s been to Africa several times in the past three years. You will notice it has no inland detail.”

  “I have focused on the coastline,” said Laelius. “Much of this comes from direct observation. I have no real mapmaking skills.” He ran his finger along the coastline. “This is no better than a rough approximation.”

  Scipio nodded. “I’m sending Laelius to Africa for further reconnaissance as soon as he’s ready to go.”

  “Perhaps a week,” said Laelius looking at me.

  “You will be going with him,” said Scipio. “I want you to work on this map. Laelius will give you all the help you need.”

  This was the first I had heard of the voyage. My heart immediately began to pound. “Yes, sir.”

  “Laelius expects to be gone three weeks to a month. Do all that you can in that time. You will have other opportunities when we all go to Africa, but whatever you can map now will serve as the basis of our invasion strategy later.”

  “I will advise you about the depths of the water and the currents,” added Laelius. “We’ll try to determine the best possible location for a landing.”

  I nodded.

  Laelius continued. “I was told you can make maps that allow distances to be accurately translated into miles. This would be of immeasurable value to everything we do.”

  “Yes, sir. Of course,” I said, then I was dismissed.

  As soon as I learned that I was going to Africa, and that the trip might last as long as a month, I knew I needed to see Moira before I left. A question had been stuck in my head since going to her farm. I hadn’t seen anyone else while I was there. Where was the father of her children? I went to the market the following two days, hoping to ask her this question. I walked every aisle and didn’t see her either day.

  I got three days’ notice before our departure for Africa. I got up before dawn the day before we left and hiked out to the farmland. I wore an old wool tunic to blend in. I reached Moira’s farm as the first rays of sunlight appeared on the horizon.

  I stood in the pasture a good distance from her farm and watched her come out of the house to begin the chores of the morning. As the light increased, I used the spyglass to watch all that went on, looking for evidence of a man. I only saw Moira and her children.

  I waited for the sun to get a little higher before approaching her house. I helped her carry four buckets of water as a way of apologizing for the intrusion.

  “I’m leaving for Africa tomorrow,” I said. “I’ll be gone a month or more. I wanted to get some of your figs before I left. I didn’t see you at the market so I came out here to purchase them.”

  “Are you making that up?”

  I took a deep breath. “Not completely. I do want the figs, but I also wanted to see you before I left.” I lowered my eyes, then gave her a sheepish look. “Mostly I came to see you.”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  I pawed at the ground with my foot. “Do you have a husband?”

  “So you can insult me if I say no.” Her youngest called to her from inside the house.

  “No, no, of course not. I apologized for that kind of thinking when I came here the first time. I simply wanted to know if I should come by again when I return.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Maybe you could use some help.”

  She gave me a grim look. “Do you have time to help right now? There’s plenty to do.”

  “No, I barely have time to be here at all. But I would stay if I could.”

  “I’ve heard that before. I have two children to prove it.” The little girl called for her again. Moira turned to go into the house.

  I called after her. “Any chance I could get some figs?” She continued to the house. “I want a bag. And I’ve got a piece of silver to pay for it.”

  She stopped in the doorway and faced me. “A bag?”

  “I need a month’s worth.” I held out a silver half-stater.

  The coin got her attention. She retrieved a bag of figs from one of the outbuildings and gave it to me.

  “Thank you,” I said, handing her the coin.

  “This is way too much, Timon—but I’ll take it.”

  “Good. You should.”

  She wagged her head and walked away like she didn’t understand.

  “I’ll be back,” I called to her.

  She didn’t even turn her head. “I won’t hold my breath.”

  I had to laugh. In spite of the sarcasm, I heard some of the old spark in her retort. She was a tough one for sure. She always h
ad been. But powers beyond reason were at play. I wanted to see her again.

  CHAPTER 38

  I had never been so far out at sea that I couldn’t see land. Most Mediterranean shipping routes followed the shoreline, always keeping land in sight, and for the first part of our voyage, Laelius guided our fleet of thirty triremes west along the coast of Sicily around Cape Pachynum to Lilybaeum. It took three and a half days. From Lilybaeum, it was a hundred and twenty-five mile, two-day voyage across the open sea to Africa, something rarely done in the winter, and only with caution in the summer.

  During our second day at sea, with everyone anxious for the sight of land, I stood at the bow of the lead ship, periodically using the spyglass to look for signs of the African coast. The first few times I did this I made an effort not to be noticed, but I quickly realized that no one paid much attention to me anyway. I began to use the spyglass like it was just another sighting tool. And the more I used it, the more I understood how valuable it was at sea.

  As I had told Troglius, I intended to show the spyglass to Scipio, but only after I had gotten to know him well enough to trust him. I had not reached that point yet. I had hardly spoken to him since our first conversation, and there had been tension then. With this voyage being a reconnaissance trip, however, I couldn’t help thinking how useful the spyglass would be to our captain. What about showing it to Laelius? What better opportunity would I get to demonstrate its powers?

  I didn’t know Laelius any better than Scipio. I had met him when I was told about the trip to Africa, and I had spoken briefly with him during preparation for the voyage. He seemed like a good man to me, but showing him meant Scipio would also have to see it. I decided to take more time before making a decision, then raised the spyglass to my eye again. As I scanned the southern horizon, expecting to see more boundless ocean, I caught sight of something. I looked up to the crow’s nest. The man with the best view other than mine didn’t appear to have seen anything yet.

  I raised the spyglass and took another look. It was land. I was sure of it—and at a very great distance. Despite my earlier hesitance, I was so excited about what I was seeing that I immediately sought out Laelius. I found him at the stern watching the progress of the other ships in our flotilla.

  I didn’t know how much longer it would be until the man in the crow’s nest would see what I had, but I wanted to show Laelius the spyglass before that happened. I came up alongside of him. “Sir, may I have a few minutes of your time.”

  Laelius was nearly ten years my senior. He had the look and feel of a veteran officer, stolid, physically superior, and not overwhelmingly outgoing with enlisted men. He turned to me with little interest. “Yes, scribe, what is it?”

  “Come to the bow with me.” I lifted the spyglass. “I believe this sighting tool will be of value during the voyage. I want to demonstrate it for you.”

  Laelius took a brief glance at the spyglass. “Another time, scribe, we’re close to land.” He looked up at the man in the masthead and shouted. “Sailor, have you seen anything yet?”

  The man called back that he had not.

  Laelius, clearly anxious, took a deep breath and let it out. Being out of sight of land overnight made everyone nervous—even a veteran of many such voyages.

  I touched his shoulder. “I have seen land, sir.”

  Laelius turned abruptly, somewhat irritated by my persistence.

  “Through this device, sir,” I said quickly.

  Laelius shouted at the sailor in the masthead again. The response was the same. “No land in sight, sir.”

  “Come with me to the bow, sir. Trust me in this.”

  A scribe rarely talked to an officer in this way. Some would judge it insubordination, but I had come to Laelius with the highest recommendation from his superior, and rather than snap at me, he paused. “And you will show me land?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Laelius followed me to the bow. “Watch how I use this device.” I lifted the spyglass to my right eye, and describing everything I did, aimed it where I had seen a dark spot on the horizon. It took a moment, and some twisting of the tubes, but I refound the dot of land. The passage of time had only brought it closer. If I had any doubts before, I didn’t anymore.

  I handed the spyglass to Laelius. Thankfully it was not just the two lenses. On board a ship they would have been impossible to aim and hold steady. He struggled with the device as it was. He first drew a bead on a distance piece of open sea. He lowered the spyglass and turned it around to look at the wide end. “What did I just see, scribe? It appeared to be at the end of this tube. What is this?”

  “There’s nothing at the end of the tube but clear glass, sir. Try it again. It allows you to see farther. Try to focus on the horizon.”

  Intrigued by what he had already seen, he reapplied the spyglass to his eye. I watched him adjust his line of sight and twist the tubes, now clearly understanding how to focus it. When he lowered the spyglass a second time, I could see the amazement in his face. “What am I seeing? The water is above the sky?”

  “That’s right. The device flips things over. Ignore that and look closely.”

  Laelius nodded, seeming to understand. “Where did you see land?”

  I pointed. “It’s only a shadow on the horizon. Have patience.”

  Laelius raised the spyglass to his eye and scanned the horizon for quite some time without lowering the glass. Suddenly he hushed in amazement, “I see it. Yes, that’s what it is.” He lowered the spyglass and shouted again at the man in the crow’s nest. “Any sight of land, sailor?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Are you certain, sailor?” He used the spyglass as his pointer and aimed it in the direction of what we had seen. “Look where I am pointing.”

  “Nothing, sir.”

  Laelius turned to me somewhat confused. “Is this an illusion? Some trick you’ve learned?”

  “No, sir. Of course not. The glass lenses,” I pointed to each of them, “were a gift to me from Archimedes. This spyglass is an optical tool. What you’re seeing is real. Given time, the sailor is sure to verify what we’ve seen.”

  Laelius continued to use the spyglass and watch our progress. He spotted two other points of land. “I believe I’ve located two islands—islands that I know should be there, but why are they only visible through these tubes?” He stared at the spot on the horizon where he had seen the islands. “Without this device, I see nothing.”

  “Land ho!” shouted the man in the crow’s nest. The sailor pointed to the location we had already identified.

  Laelius handed the spyglass to me as though it were a golden scepter. “Who else knows about this?”

  “A few close friends and you. I suggest we keep it quiet, but not overtly veiled.”

  He tilted his head,

  “I always carry the spyglass at my hip, like you do your gladius. I use it without concern for who sees me. If anyone asks, it’s a sighting device. And it is. With this tool I can make some very accurate maps. Am I out of line to ask for your confidence in this?”

  “What about Scipio?”

  “I’ll show it to him when we return to Syracuse. But only after I’ve made enough progress with the map to demonstrate what I can do with it.”

  Laelius shook his head as though bewildered by what he had seen, then grinned, as he never had before in my presence. “I want to be there. I want to see his reaction.”

  “Wait until tonight,” I said. “We’ll turn it upward to the heavens.” I nodded at him to emphasize what I felt was the most stunning use of the lenses—viewing the stars.

  I spent the rest of the day on the bow, making sightings and writing down numbers. My mapping of Africa had begun. I had been lucky. Laelius had proven to be a curious man. Revealing the lenses to him had not been a mistake. The more he understood what I was doing, the better he could assist me with the map.

  CHAPTER 39

  We landed unnoticed that evening at dusk and quickly made our camp a
t a location known as Bizerta, about seventy-five miles of winding shoreline west of Carthage. The next morning Laelius took a raiding party into the surrounding countryside. He stormed and looted several small villages that were totally unprepared for marauding Roman soldiers. By the next day news of our arrival had reached Carthage. The number of soldiers and ships was badly exaggerated, suggesting that Scipio had landed and that the invasion had begun. The same kind of hysteria that had gripped Carthage six months earlier in anticipation of Scipio’s arrival ripped through the city again. The Council of Elders immediately decided to hold a levy within Carthage and throughout the nearby countryside, enlisting every able-bodied man to help defend the city. Stores of grain were brought in from the farmland, iron plough shares were forged into swords, and a fleet of ships was prepared to send to Bizerta.

  Shortly after these efforts were put in motion, a second, more accurate report reached Carthage. The invading force was not Scipio, but a small raiding party. While this provided welcome relief in Carthage, the Council of Elders knew that the threat of an invasion was real and countered with several strategic moves of their own. Despite Syphax’s previous commitment to Scipio, envoys were sent to Siga in hopes of reversing that pledge. Another delegation went to Greece promising King Philip, a known enemy of Rome, two hundred talents of silver to stage an attack on Sicily to distract Scipio—an offer he did not accept. Six thousand infantry, eight hundred cavalry, and seven elephants were sent to Hannibal’s youngest brother Mago, who was in Corsica assembling an army. His orders were to take his troops to northwest Italy to enlist more barbarian mercenaries, and then to head south to join his brother.

  At our camp, one raiding party after another returned, steadily filling our ships with booty. Early in the morning of our fourth day in Africa, a contingent of perhaps sixty Numidians on horseback rode up to the edge of our camp. I was immediately reminded of the sorties Hannibal’s Numidians had launched against our camp while I was with Marcellus. A state of heightened alert raced through the camp. Helmeted legionnaires appeared at regular intervals all along the palisades. The riders came to a halt outside the range of our weapons. Defying all sense of danger, their captain, wearing a black mantle wrapped around his head and shoulders, cantered up to the gate flanked by two of his men and asked to see Laelius.