“I knew you wanted to know. I had to come.” I stroked her hair and gazed into her eyes. I thought about how beautiful she was and the twist of fate that had brought us together for a second time.
“Did you mean what you said at the trial, Timon? Or was that just something you said to save Troglius?”
My look was a question.
“Are you really considering marrying me?”
In the months since I had reunited with Moira, she hadn’t asked me for any kind of commitment or inclusion in my future. What I had said at the trial had not been planned, but it had surely come from somewhere deep inside me. “I said that, Moira, to defend your honor in the face of Cato’s insults. Do I want to marry you? You and I both know that any plans we might make regarding the future are meaningless until I return from Africa. It’s senseless to even talk about it.”
Moira looked away, trying to hide what she felt. I embraced her and whispered, “But, yes, I did mean it.”
She stood up on her toes and kissed me on the lips, then spun out of my arms and ran back across the field to her children.
When I returned to camp that afternoon, I went to check on Troglius. His condition was unchanged, but he was alive, which was all I wanted to know. Abrax was there. I gave him the comfrey. He didn’t seem too interested in using it. I told him the man was my best friend and that I would do it if he wouldn’t. Abrax agreed to do it, but he wasn’t very convincing, so I stayed to steam the comfrey and help him lay the large soft leaves on Troglius’ back.
I skipped the evening meal and went from the hospital tent to headquarters to complete the work I had left undone to visit Moira. The tent was empty when I entered. I went straight to the map table and resumed reviewing my calculations.
I was nearly done when Scipio entered the tent followed by Laelius and his brother. Scipio was furious. Syphax’s envoys had arrived that afternoon while I was at Moira’s farm. They had delivered the message that Hasdrubal had requested: Syphax had married Hasdrubal’s daughter, and Scipio could no longer count on his support should he come to Africa.
“Say nothing of this” said Scipio to the other officers, then looked at me. “You either.”
“Yes, sir.”
“If word gets out that I have lost Syphax, it will work against morale and bring yet another barrage of criticism from Fabius in Rome. We’ll go ahead as though nothing’s changed.” He looked at his brother. “Lucius, I want you to stay with the envoys until they leave. Make sure they talk to no one. If anyone asks, say that they came here requesting we come to Africa as soon as possible. Once we’re in Africa, none of this will matter. Immediate needs will take over. But until then, I don’t want the men dwelling on bad news.”
CHAPTER 62
Troglius showed considerable progress in the next few days. I don’t know if it were a result of Moira’s comfrey compresses or not, but the wound began to dry up and form scabs. When it seemed safe to say he would survive, I felt it was important to tell Agathe and Eurydice. I found some time to go into Syracuse and went straight to the tenement housing where Agathe had lived as long as I had known her.
Both women were glad to see me and were relieved that Troglius had not been executed. I thanked them for allowing him to stay in their home, especially when they could have been implicated in the crime had he been found there. Predictably, Agathe took the news with her usual spit and vinegar; however, Eurydice’s emotional, tearful response surprised me. I knew that Troglius entertained the idea of marrying her, but I found it difficult to believe that Eurydice could feel anything beyond ordinary compassion for my misshapen friend.
On my way off the island, I passed the warehouse where Archimedes had supervised the building of the arrays of parabolic mirrors. The building’s doors were secured with a large, loose fitting chain. Curious what might remain, I pried the doors open as wide as the chain allowed and peeked in through the opening. The only light in the warehouse came through cracks in the building’s siding. I couldn’t see much, but it was evident that the floor was still cluttered with bits and pieces left over from the project.
Still curious, I twisted and turned the chain so that I could open the doors a little wider. Then, with great effort, I squeezed sideways through the opening into the building. Five years had passed since Archimedes had quit work on the adjustable array. Its large, unfinished wooden substructure dominated the center of the warehouse.
As I maneuvered through the darkness and debris, my eyes gradually adjusted to the lack of light. I saw several of the parabolic mirrors stacked in one corner. I remembered how much effort had been put into perfecting the three working arrays. Archimedes and his crew and I had spent nearly all of our waking hours for several weeks in this warehouse, trying to be ready for Marcellus’ next assault on the city.
I unstacked the pile of bronze mirrors to evaluate their condition. The one on top was badly tarnished, but the others retained much of their original polish. In the process of moving the mirrors, I noticed several dusty scrolls lying on a shelf adjacent to the stack of mirrors. I took one of the scrolls to a place in the warehouse where there was a rectangular patch of sunlight on the dirt floor. I got down on one knee and unrolled the scroll. It was a set of drawings for one of the stationary mirror arrays.
On the day the Romans finally stormed the island, and it was evident the plundering soldiers would soon be coming to the tower, Archimedes had me burn all his notebooks, drawings, and letters before anyone could take possession of them. At the time, I felt it was a mistake. Despite my arguments, Archimedes refused to save a single document. Apparently he had forgotten that some of his drawings had been left in the warehouse.
I collected all the scrolls—four more—and took them over to the patch of light. One by one I unrolled them to see what they were. All were detailed engineering drawings, copied by me for Archimedes many years before. Two of them were drawings of stationary arrays, each with a different focal length. One contained drawings of the adjustable array that was still in pieces, and one was a catapult, which I recognized as one of Archimedes’ most advanced designs.
As I realized the importance of what I had just discovered, my hands began to shake. The drawings for the adjustable array were certainly valuable, but they were unfinished and needed some work. However, the designs for the three stationary arrays and the catapult were of weaponry that had already been proven to work—and were of immediate value. Although I would always feel the compound lenses were a greater discovery, men like Hannibal or Scipio would find the catapult and the parabolic arrays considerably more alluring.
My first thought was to take the scrolls to Scipio, then I remembered his reaction to the spyglass. I had worried ever since if showing him had been a mistake. My second thought was to burn the drawings. That would have been what Archimedes wanted. For many reasons I was compelled to do this. Then I thought again. The war was not over. Rome seemed likely to win, but what if something changed? What if Hannibal somehow regained the upper hand? Weapons like these might be the only way to defeat him.
Knowing I could always burn the scrolls at a later date, I rolled them all into one and squeezed back out of the warehouse. When I got back to camp, I separated the five scrolls and put them at the bottom of my stack of maps in the headquarters’ tent. During the next three months, as time and privacy allowed, I studied these designs with the intent of teaching myself how to build them all.
PART VI
THE INVASION OF AFRICA
“The bravest are surely those who have the clearest vision of what is before them, glory and danger alike, and yet not withstanding go out to meet it.”
-Thucydides.
CHAPTER 63
The ecstatic mood in Rome following the defeat of Hasdrubal in north Italy and the decision to allow Scipio to stage an invasion of Africa had steadily eroded in the time since the discovery of the war crimes in Locri. Along with the arrival of Mago in Etruria, the outbreak of the plague in Bruttium, and the inqui
ry that postponed Scipio’s voyage to Africa, a string of unusual prodigies generated tremendous apprehension for the coming year. Quintus Caecilius Metellus, who had been named dictator in the absence of the two consuls, ordered a ten-man team to consult the Sibylline Books for advice, something reserved for only the most dire times.
During the review of these sacred books, a passage was found that read, “If ever a foreign enemy should invade Italy, the invaders could be driven out if Cybele, the Idaean Mother of the Gods, were brought from the Asian city of Pessinus to Rome.” Although Rome had few allies in Asia, four envoys were immediately sent to Phrygia, where Pessinus was located, with the task of acquiring the large black stone that the Phrygians believe represented the Idaean Mother.
On the way to Asia, the envoys stopped at the Temple in Delphi to make an offering to the oracle and seek his advice on bargaining for the goddess. After they had placed two large chests of silver and gold in the temple, the oracle told them to go to King Attalus in Pergamum and that he would help them. The oracle also told them, that should they receive the treasured stone, the goddess should be received in Italy with the utmost hospitality and welcomed into Rome by the best man in the city.
Attalus received the Roman envoys with a warm welcome, and after hearing their request, escorted them to Pessinus, a city in his kingdom. With the king as the envoy’s sponsor, the native people declined any payment for the stone and simply gave it to the envoys.
During the time that the stone was in transit from Phrygia, Metellus presided over the elections in Rome. Marcus Cornelius Cethegus, a member of Scipio’s clan, and Publius Sempronius Teditanus were chosen as the year’s two consuls. Cethegus was given the province of Etruria, with orders to keep Mago pinned in the north, and Teditanus was sent to Bruttium to join forces with Livinius against Hannibal. Scipio was again assigned to Sicily with a nearly unanimous vote of support to go to Africa when he was ready.
On the ides of March, when the two new consuls were inaugurated and the first Senate meeting of the year took place, Metellus reported that the ship carrying the Idaean Mother would arrive at the port of Ostia that week. Following this welcome news, the Senate had a lengthy discussion about who was the best man in Rome. Most likely because of his family connections, Publius Scipio’s twenty-two year old cousin with the same name was selected.
On the appointed day, the cousin, whose father Gaius had been killed in Spain the same year as Scipio’s father, waited in a small boat at the mouth of the Tiber River for the arrival of the transport ship. Midafternoon the ship anchored in the Ostia harbor. Publius Scipio sailed out to the transport vessel, and with great ceremony and a live sacrifice, received the stone. When he brought the stone ashore, he was greeted by one of Rome’s leading women, Claudia Quinta. Claudia had come to Ostia in a long procession containing all the married women in Rome. The women were evenly spaced along the road so that they stretched all the way from Rome to Ostia. Claudia took the stone from Scipio, and carrying it a short distance, passed it to the next woman in line. In this way, the stone was transported to Rome, passing from one woman to next the entire fifteen miles to the city gates.
Everyone in the city came out for the arrival of the stone. The excited populace lined both sides of the bridge over the Tiber, and then created a pathway to Porta Carmentalis and through the city to the top of the Palatine Hill and the Temple of Victory, where the stone was placed. A festival and a feast were held afterward with the hope that the gods had been properly satisfied and that the war would soon end with Rome the victor.
CHAPTER 64
At the end of April, Scipio began the process of transporting his troops to Lilybaeum, where the voyage to Africa would begin. All the soldiers, all the provisions, and all the warships and transports arrived in Lilybaeum a week before the departure scheduled for the ides of May.
By this time Troglius had recovered fully and was ready to go with the troops to Africa. If men had referred to him as a monster before, now he truly looked like one. The shiny layers of scar tissue on his back and shoulders, worn like a fibrous white mantle, made him more reptilian in appearance. With the rhomboid shape of his head, he could have passed for a hippopotamus on two legs. The incident, the trial, and his survival of the flogging created quite a reputation for Troglius among the other soldiers. They held him up as a kind of mythic being—even though very few of them had yet to see him on the battlefield. Scipio promoted him to centurion as promised. Troglius, however, declined the promotion, saying he preferred not to be an officer.
I spent my last night in Syracuse at Moira’s farm. I got there late and ate leftovers. After the children were in bed, Moira and I lay on our backs in the grass out front of the house and stared up at the stars.
“I don’t know when I’ll be back,” I said looking into the sky. “It could be two months. It could be two years.”
“Timon,” replied Moira, “I understand. It’s the war. It’s all you or I have known our entire lives. We only have what is here and now. We got a lot of work done this winter.” She turned on her side, facing me. “Our time together has been good.”
I turned toward her. “More than good, Moira. Much more than good.”
She grinned. “It seems strange that we should have met twice.”
“And fortunate.”
We didn’t say another word all night. We slept outside. I got up before daylight without waking Moira. I had brought four of the five scrolls that I had found in the warehouse to the farm. Without saying anything to Moira, I hid them in one of the outbuildings. I left the fifth scroll—the adjustable mirror array—at the bottom of the stack of maps in headquarters and would take it to Africa. I planned to work on it when time allowed, challenging myself to complete the unfinished drawings.
I went back to the farmhouse and woke Moira with a kiss. When she tried to talk, I put a finger to her lips. “Whatever needs to be said, we said last night. Let’s make this simple. Let’s leave it at good-bye.”
I lifted my finger from her lips, and with tears glistening in the corners of her eyes, she whispered, “Good-bye, Timon. I’m sure we wouldn’t have met twice if we weren’t destined to meet again.”
CHAPTER 65
For three years Scipio had boasted that he would go to Carthage and draw Hannibal out of Italy. Now he was finally prepared to cross the one hundred and twenty-five miles of open sea to Africa to prove it. People from all over Sicily came to the port of Lilybaeun to watch our departure. Throughout the morning, on a day of cloudless blue skies, crowds accumulated on the wharf and around the harbor’s shore. Scipio’s campaign held the hopes of all Italy, and to some, marked the beginning of the end of the war. Forty triremes and four hundred transports filled the harbor, carrying some twenty-six thousand infantry and two thousand cavalry, in nearly equal parts of Roman legionnaires and allied levies. Forty-five days of rations and water were included with the freight.
Scipio’s flagship was anchored alongside the wharf. Scipio, Laelius, Cato—all in full dress armor—and our augur Dilius Strabo, wearing a hooded, white robe, fanned out across the forecastle. A herald and ten trumpeters stood off to their right. I was on the left with my wax pad and bronze stylus to take notes. Soldiers filled the rest of the deck to watch the ceremony to launch the flotilla. Farther from shore, the other ships were similarly packed with cheering legionnaires, eager to begin the campaign.
Scipio turned to the herald. The herald gave the signal, and the ten trumpets sounded. The herald stepped forward, and lifting his hands in the air, shouted to the enormous, boisterous crowd for quiet. When the thousands in attendance calmed to a muddy murmur, Scipio advanced to the foremost edge of the bow. He looked up into sky and addressed the heavens.
“O gods and goddesses of the seas and lands, I pray and beseech you that whatever things have been done, are being done, and will be done under my authority will bring prosperity for me and for the people and the commons of Rome. And I pray that you bring the victors home saf
e and sound, enriched with spoils, and laden with the plunder of an enemy defeated. Grant us the power of vengeance to inflict upon the Carthaginian state the same suffering which they have labored to inflict upon Rome.”
The huge crowd erupted with resounding cheers and applause, calling for the destruction of Carthage. When the hubbub died down, two priests came to the bow leading a well groomed calf, adorned with red and blue fillets tied to its tail and ears. One priest carried an amphora of wine, the other a sack of mola, a mixture of salt and wheat prepared in Rome by the Vestal Virgins. Dilius Strabo, a short fat man, who would be our augur for the entire campaign, sprinkled a handful of mola along the calf’s spine, then used the amphora to dribble some wine on the calf’s forehead. He withdrew a flint knife from his robes and removed its soft leather sheath. With one hand on the calf’s head, the augur drew a line down the calf’s spine with the tip of the knife, only parting the hair, not cutting into the skin, then nodded to the priests. They took the calf by its legs and flipped it onto its back. The augur knelt beside the calf and quickly cut its throat. He allowed the calf to bleed out, then used the knife to make an incision in the calf’s midsection from the genitals to the throat. The priests held the incision open while Dilius dipped his hands into the calf’s glistening pink innards. One by one, he drew out and cut free the lungs, the kidneys, the gall bladder, the liver, and the heart. As he took out each organ, he inspected it and laid it on the ship’s deck. When the last organ had been examined, Dilius stood, his hands dripping with blood, and announced at the full volume of his voice, “The organs show no abnormalities. The gods have spoken. The campaign will be a success. Carthage will be destroyed.”
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