Athene's Prophecy (Gaius Claudius Scaevola Trilogy)

by Ian Miller

  "Do not speak of this prophecy, but tell all to the ugliest of all, whom you must recruit to help save every human being from a most terrible annihilation. Fulfil this destiny and only then can disaster be averted. Go, prepare well, and, well," she seemed to pause, then she added, "Good luck."

  Athene's expression seemed to fade, and as she did so, the temple gradually returned to its dilapidated state. Gaius lay back. The sun was still so warm, his eyelids felt so heavy . . .

  When Gaius awoke, the shadows were lengthening. He looked around, but there was no sign of the woman. He went to the back of the altar, but it was all solid stone, with grass growing between the cracks. It looked as if it had not been cleaned for decades.

  He shook his head. It had felt so real, but he must have dreamed it all. Goddesses did not wish you luck!

  Chapter 6

  Timothy was tense for the first lesson. Having been far away from his master, he had become independent and he had been left alone for who would dare bully the property of Tiberius? With such imperial immunity he had become haughty, and, he realized, he had made few friends. Now, whether by accident or by Tiberius' intent, the transfer of ownership had arrived after he had confronted this young upper class Roman to whom he was now beholden. Worse, Tiberius' motives were unclear. While Tiberius had given him away, that did not mean that Tiberius had finished with him. Tiberius had unlimited power, and his use of it was becoming erratic.

  Gaius was feeling equally awkward. He may be in control, but in control of what? This could be nothing more than yet another one of Tiberius' jokes, which were becoming increasingly less funny. Now Gaius was responsible for reaching whatever outcome Tiberius had decided, if he had decided. More likely, for whatever outcome he thought should have arisen one day when he had a gut ache.

  Then there was . . . his dream? He did not believe in Gods, but . . . Could a dream be that detailed? Surely not! But then again, surely Athene had not visited him? No, being visited by a Goddess was simply not believable. But then again, just in case, it hardly hurt to follow good advice. So here he was, ordered by a Goddess in a dream, and also by a cranky old man who thought he ought to be a God, to learn. He should pay attention!

  Timothy began with questions as to what Gaius had already learned. That he knew how to speak Greek and had read several Greek plays was no surprise, nor was the fact that he had had extensive lessons in rhetoric. That Gaius had had lessons in geometry was useful, for while he, Timothy, was not especially interested in mathematics, he would send this young Roman to see Geminus, the greatest living mathematician and astronomer. Geminus would extend him there, and save him, Timothy, from total failure.

  "So you want to be a soldier? Then let's give you military problem, a real problem, but I won't tell you whose. Your mission is to take a certain city out in the African desert as quickly as possible. What do you do?"

  "Where is this city? I mean, specifically with respect to where I am?"

  "You make enquiries," Timothy continued, "and you obtain a most wonderful map. The city is marked due west, at a distance of 240 kilometers. There is a road and you can easily make thirty kilometers per day."

  "Provisions?"

  "You may carry water and food for twelve days. The city has both food and water."

  "Then I take food and water for twelve days and unless I hear that there's a superior force around, I set off."

  "For six days, all goes well," Timothy said, "but on the seventh day there is a sand storm, and you cannot see where you are going."

  "I camp for the day," Gaius replied. What was the problem?

  "The following day the storm is over, and the road is clear."

  "I set off towards the city."

  "While progress has been according to plan, that evening you notice that the road is becoming sandy and fifteen kilometers a day is probably all you will manage."

  "The next morning I continue," a puzzled Gaius replied. "We are nearly there."

  "You and your legion die in the desert. There is no city where you think it is."

  "What?" Gaius exploded. "That's not fair!"

  "Life is not fair," Timothy replied. "I'm a slave and . . ."

  "You will be freed. You know that!" Gaius scowled.

  "That's not the point!" Timothy was indignant, but he was also frightened. This could be one of those times where doing the right thing got him flogged. "Your privileged birth has given you the right to command, but you also have the responsibility to do it properly. Your ineptitude has just killed a few thousand men who were unlucky enough to be dependent on you. What should you have done?"

  "Got a better map?" Gaius asked.

  "No! That was as good as it would get."

  "Then it's a stupid problem," Gaius said grumpily. "What could I do?"

  "Stop thinking 'I'!" Timothy said harshly. "The Earth doesn't rotate around you! You might care to consider getting help from other people who know far more than you do. First, send out scouts, who carry more supplies and move faster. Then go down to the market place. Find someone who's been there."

  "I suppose you're right," Gaius conceded, after a moment. "All I can say is . . ." He stopped in mid-sentence.

  "Well?"

  "This is a bit on the weak side, but I would have sent out the scouts. That is standard legionary procedure."

  "And you know why it is standard procedure?"

  "To save people like me who would otherwise forget," Gaius said sheepishly.

  "Exactly. Now I have your attention, at least until your natural arrogance takes over again . . ."

  "I concede! You're right, if that makes you feel any better."

  "It doesn't."

  "Then what will?"

  "You actually learning something. Anyone can say I'm right. The question is, has it done any good?"

  "Tiberius would say you'd have to keep going to find out," Gaius said in a non-conciliatory tone.

  "I know," Timothy shrugged, and added without thinking, "One of the prices you pay for being a slave is you have to keep going."

  "Then how about getting on with it, and stop feeling sorry for your piece of bad luck, which, I might add, so far has been nowhere nearly as bad as you seem to make out!"

  "We'll see," Timothy said. He had to pull himself together, for the boy was right in one way. His life had not been anywhere nearly as bad as it might have been, or might yet be. "So, the goal is to get you to think! What we Greeks prize is logic . . ."

  One or two Greeks might, Gaius thought to himself. What most Greeks prized was gold, and the knowledge of how to extract it from unsuspecting visitors.

  ". . . It enables you to see through what would otherwise delude you, to find the truth. That is what makes a great general, a great philosopher, a great storyteller, a great anything. Who would you say was the greatest general that ever lived?"

  "The best at winning battles was Alexander, although nothing lasted."

  "That's true," Timothy agreed, "but Alexander may have been equally effective there had he lived. But that's not my point. What I want you to think about was why was Alexander so great? Was he stronger? Did he . . ."

  "He was smarter," Gaius interrupted, "and he had a professional army of battle-hardened veterans."

  "And who made him so smart?"

  "You're going to say, his teacher."

  "A successful prediction! His teacher was Aristotle, the greatest scientist and philosopher of all time," Timothy said. "So Alexander was neither a scientist nor a philosopher, but he was a thinker. Now, I shall send you to a teacher of mathematics and astronomy, and we shall cover logic and physics, and also some military campaigns of which I have records. I am going to try to make you think about things of which you have no previous experience, to see if you can be original. Originality was what made Alexander great so be here tomorrow, ready to think."

  Chapter 7

  "Today," Timothy said in a challenging tone, "I give you two opposite views: I give you physics, and I give you anti-physi
cs."

  He stared at Gaius, who sat impassively. "Firstly, anti-physics. For this we turn to Socrates, who put it quite bluntly. Physics are useless, because they do not help the soul." He continued to stare, until finally he said, "Comment please?"

  Gaius thought for a minute, then said slowly, to gain more time, "Since you have not taught me what is in physics, I cannot say whether the statement is true or not."

  "Is that all you can contribute?"

  "I think the statement is also irrelevant," Gaius said. "Food does nothing for the soul, but it could not be described as useless."

  "A typically Roman view," Timothy noted. "If it's there, use it."

  "Better than the Greek view of, if it's there, contemplate it," Gaius retorted. There was a challenge on Gaius' face, but there was also the hint of a smile.

  Timothy stared at him, then finally a smile crossed his face. "Perhaps. Well, let's start at the beginning with Thales, a military engineer who learned to predict eclipses, to measure things better than others had, and, in order for his army to win a battle, to divert a river into the enemy. He believed that everything could be explained without reference to the Gods, by forming general principles based on what we know, and hypotheses for what we do not. He used geometry, which you seem to be so taken with, and proved a theorem in which if a triangle is drawn within a circle that includes the diameter, then the angle opposite the diameter is a right angle." Timothy paused. Where was all this going? Was he wasting his time? It might be a waste, but he had to keep going, because that is what slaves did. "He also began to ask the right questions, such as where did life begin? His opinion was water, which was thus fundamental to life. Comment?"

  "Comment?" Gaius said with a frown. This was unexpected.

  "Your job is not to sit comfortably in the sun," Timothy said. "Your job is to think."

  "Diverting a river was clever," Gaius replied. The fact was, he noted to himself, Timothy was correct. He had been very comfortable, the sun streaming on his face. His mind had almost begun to wander. Could he be so transparent?

  "Now, how did I know you would focus on that!"

  "Knowing how to select the right questions to ask would be a big advance," Gaius offered. What did this wretched Greek want?

  "Now, there's an advance," Timothy nodded. "I half suspect you were thinking more of your own situation than that of Thales, but still, that's an advance."

  "I also think," Gaius said in a more assertive tone, "that Thales did not take his own advice."

  "Oh?" At this point Timothy was puzzled.

  "The right question is one that is potentially answerable," Gaius said in a challenging tone. "There are far too many unknowns to contemplate answering where life began."

  "Interesting response," Timothy growled. "It shows quite clearly the cultural divide between Greeks and Romans. Greeks inquire about everything, Romans only inquire when they know the answer anyway."

  "Greeks idle their time away speculating about everything and getting nowhere," Gaius retorted, "while Romans get on and do something."

  "You think Thales idled away his time?"

  Gaius looked at Timothy, and noticed the mix of fear and challenge. He had to do his best to remove that fear, so he smiled and replied as cautiously and as timidly as he could, "Perhaps you could give me an example of where he did not?"

  "Then consider this," Timothy offered. "According to Aristotle, early one year, Thales predicted a really good harvest so he reserved all the olive presses at a discount, and when demand peaked he rented them out at a much higher price, thus showing you could make money through . . ."

  "Taking advantage of the plodders!" Gaius interrupted. "Yes, a fine example, and yes, Romans also speculate."

  "Then we have your exercise for tomorrow," Timothy smiled. "Read up more about Thales, and also contemplate whether there is something in between speculating about everything and getting nowhere or restricting yourself to what you know, and whether being in between is desirable."

  * * *

  "Your thoughts on the asking of questions, please?"

  "One view," Gaius started, "is that if it is impossible to get a useful answer, the question is valueless."

  "One view? Is that your view?"

  "However," Gaius continued, ignoring the interruption, "if one has no idea whether an answer can eventually be obtained, or what it will be, one should not simply dismiss the question." Timothy stared at Gaius as he continued, "In that case, use or uselessness depends on the unknown chance of getting an answer. It is desirable to ask the next answerable question, but that begs the question of how to recognize it. So, I suppose that leaves two options: ask away, and hope the questions are not futile, or to try to make small, miniscule steps. You seem to have a choice of a miniscule chance of making a huge advance, or a huge chance of making a miniscule advance." He paused and shrugged as he added, "The Roman way at least has the advantage of being successful."

  "So far," Timothy mumbled.

  "So far," Gaius agreed. "However, it seems to me that adopting the second policy of keeping one's eyes open in case the first answers itself has a lot going for it."

  "For a Roman, it would," Timothy nodded, then he pulled himself together. Irritating his master was not in a slave's best interests. "So, back to physics. Did you learn anything else from Thales?"

  "I made sparks," Gaius shrugged. "Whether that is useful is another matter."

  "Explain!"

  "Thales found that if you rubbed some materials like amber with fur, the amber would attract hair, and if you rubbed hard enough, you could make little sparks. So I got some amber and tried my hand at it. It works, but the sparks are very small, and I regard it more as a curiosity."

  Timothy was now a little puzzled. The boy would have had to read quite a bit to find that, and having done so, to actually go into town and find some amber and fur would have taken effort. The boy seemed to find things interesting. Whether that was good or bad remained to be seen. In the meantime, he had to keep going. "Let's move on to Anaximander, also of Miletus. Anaximander believed that the original substance of the universe was formless and from this, everything was created. The uneven creation led to forces, and these forces have formed the present and will form the future. Every force has a contrary, thus hot counters cold, wet counters dry, and so on. Every motion in the Universe is a result of such forces, and most things are acted upon by forces and therefore change. Your comments?"

  "Forces drive change, but maybe we shouldn't invent forces simply because something changes. What I mean is, if there's a net force there will be a change, but it doesn't follow that there is a force behind every change."

  "That's a good point of logic," Timothy smiled. "Suppose I say, all cows eat grass. That is a one-way statement, hence if I see a cow I know it eats grass, but if someone tells me there is something eating grass, it doesn't have to be a cow. Now, back to the concept of forces and contraries. Anything else?"

  "If the forces tend to bring everything together, then surely soon everything will be thoroughly mixed?"

  "Good! But you see, there is inherent unevenness. The sun only shines in the day, therefore the heat of the sun is uneven, so while the forces attempt to bring everything together, there are also causes of separation. Anaximander decided that while the contrary forces were universal and were trying to bring the Universe into harmony, there are also changes and situations that increase the separation. Give another example in which the separation of contraries is maintained, and explain why?"

  "I can't . . ." Gaius shrugged. "I don't know . . ."

  "You can't! How useful!" Timothy scowled. He had to try to irritate his young charge, because he had to know whether he had potential, or whether this was simply an exercise he had to go through. On the other hand, he must not irritate too much. "Take your time! Think!" Timothy gave a quiet smile, and sat back and began munching a piece of bread and cheese. As tests went, this could be even more useful.

  At first nothing
came to Gaius, however it seemed that the answer was presumably related to this Greek physics. He should review all he knew, which would not take long. He was almost going to give up, when a thought struck him. "I may have something," he announced.

  "May? As Aristotle would have noted, you either have or have not. Which is it?"

  "How about this?" Gaius asked. He suddenly felt confident. "As I recall from Aristarchus, the sun is a long way away, and it shines heat. The Earth is a ball, so where the heat strikes square-on, such as to the south of us, it gets very hot, while at the north, it stays dark throughout the winter and it gets very cold. These so-called contraries are being generated continually."

  "And the forces of cold and the heat generate storms in the middle," Timothy nodded. Now was the time to be mildly encouraging. Possibly this was a lucky guess, and it was a pity he had to fix on that heretic, but on the other hand here was something quite unusual: a Roman sufficiently interested in Greek science to actually read it. There was also a practical reason: there was no point in pushing this young man into violence. "But there's more. Rain may wash away the side of a hill but nothing builds it up. Everything is gradually changing, and can never go back to the beginning. Even life is changing."

  "It is?"

  "It is. Think! Give me an example."

  "I didn't even know it was," Gaius grumbled. "How can I be expected to . . ."