Aphrodite in your gown of brightly varied hues,
Zeus's wile-weaving child, immortal lady:
My soul with grief and cares subdued,
Don't break me!
But come to me now, if ever, much-desired, you heeded what I sang to you in prayer and left your father's house as I required to save me,
Golden your chariot yoked, and you all fair,
Swift sparrows drew about the black earth,
Wingbeats thickly whirling through the air from heaven…
… to ask what next my mad heart longs for, who now shall I bring to love you?…
He reached the house and stopped whistling as he walked the last steps through the porch and up to the door. He straightened his cloakthe new yellow one, finally clean of lampblack- took a deep breath, and knocked.
The doorkeeper opened it at once and surveyed him with the usual expression of disapproval. "Your business?" he snapped.
"I've come to tell the regent that the catapult is finished!" said Archimedes triumphantly.
"Huh!" snorted Agathon. "The regent's out. I'll give him your message when he comes home."
Archimedes stood on the doorstep, crimson with embarrassment. He saw that he'd expected to be received like a victorious general- and he saw how stupid that had been. The one-talenter was, after all, only one catapult among several hundred owned by the city, and all the catapults in Syracuse were only a portion of the regent's responsibilities. Stupid! Still, out of some confused loyalty to his machine and the workshop that had produced it, he stammered, "C-could you tell me where the regent is, or when he's likely to be home?"
Agathon raised his eyebrows. "No," he said flatly- then, relenting a little, he explained, "Last night he had a message from the king. We have won a victory over the Romans at Messana, and King Hieron is lifting the siege and returning to Syracuse. He should arrive home tomorrow. The regent is likely to be extremely busy until he does. I'll give him your message as soon as I can."
"Oh!" said Archimedes, blinking stupidly and trying to take it in. Syracuse had defeated the Romans at Messana- Syracuse was actually winning the war? Praise to all the gods! But if Syracuse had won, why lift the siege of Messana and come home? Surely, if you won, you pressed the siege and took the city?
He shook himself and looked back at Agathon; something about the doorkeeper's face prevented him from asking for an explanation. Instead he returned confusedly to the subject which had brought him there. "I, uh, hope you can tell the regent soon," he said earnestly. "You see, the one-talenter- it's in the middle of the workshop, and it takes up a lot of space. We need to put it somewhere else, and we need to know where. Also, I don't get paid and can't start any more until it's been seen to work."
"I will tell the regent as soon as I can," the doorkeeper said shortly, then leaned back against the doorpost, crossed his arms, and gave Archimedes a cynical look. "And?" he said expectantly.
Archimedes licked his lips, wondering how the doorkeeper had known he wanted something else, and how to tell him what without appearing to be disrespectful. He fingered the package in the fold of his cloak. "I, uh," he began nervously. "The, uh, last time I was here I hurt my eye. The, uh, king's sister was kind enough to give me her aulos cheek strap soaked in water to put on it. I wanted to return the strap to her, and to thank her for her kindness." He fumbled the package out- a neat little bundle wrapped in a sheet of papyrus- and showed it to Agathon.
Agathon looked at him expressionlessly, debating whether to take the package and promise to deliver it and the thanks: the prospect of watching this young hopeful's face fall was tempting. But he decided against it. He had been deeply impressed by what Epimeles had told him about Archimedes' abilities, though the admiration he felt was all for Delia, not for the man she'd spotted. Hieron, too, could always pick out men who'd be useful, and Agathon found the skill wonderful. Delia, he decided, deserved to hear how her discovery was getting on. "Very well," he said tolerantly. "This way."
He showed the visitor through the front part of the house, past the waiting room, and into the garden with the fountain, where he commanded him to wait. The garden actually adjoined the women's quarters of the house, and men from outside the household were not permitted beyond it. Agathon disappeared into the house.
Archimedes stood beside the fountain waiting. It was a hot day. The yellow cloak was itchy and uncomfortably heavy, even in the shade of the garden. He scratched surreptitiously, then went to the fountain and splashed some water over his face. Footsteps sounded softly in the colonnade beyond, and he looked up, face dripping, and saw Delia sweeping toward him, accompanied by two women and a child. One of the women was dressed with the plain respectability of a slave, but the other- a handsome woman of about thirty- wore a long tunic of purple and gold, and her auburn hair was tied back by the purple ribbon of a royal diadem.
He had worked out what to say when Delia appeared, but the sight of the woman in purple put the speech out of his head, and he stared stupidly. He had not been so na[i..]ve as to expect to be permitted to talk to the king's sister alone again, but equally he had not expected her to be chaperoned by a queen. Of course, he realized numbly, there could be nothing unusual about such a person being in Delia's company. After all, Delia was the queen's sister-in-law; they probably spent a lot of time together. But the sight of his flute player escorted by a diadem suddenly made him feel how stupid it was for him to think about her in the way he had been thinking about her.
Then Delia smiled, and he went on thinking about her that way.
"Archimedes son of Phidias, good health!" said Delia pleasantly. "Agathon said you wanted to thank me for something?"
He remembered his speech; she'd just delivered the gist of the first line herself. He tried to think how to rewrite it on the spot, then, flustered, abandoned it. "Uh, yes, I- that is, you spoiled your cheek strap when you gave it to me- I mean, when you got it wet. I, uh…" His throat seemed to have become stopped up, and he gave up completely and simply offered her the little papyrus-wrapped package.
The queen gave him an amused look. The child, a boy, gave him an unnerving five-year-old's stare. But Delia took the package with a lift of her eyebrows and unwrapped it, then held up the two cheek straps. The old one was slightly- but not, in fact, badly- discolored by the water; the new one was the best he could buy that was still comfortable to wear, strong and soft and painted on the outside surface with a key pattern in blue.
"How very kind of you," Delia said, with real pleasure. The old cheek strap had been her only plain one. She had plenty with embossing or embroidery, but embroidery always itched, and embossing dug into your cheeks when you blew hard, and distracted you. This was a strap chosen by an aulist: she could wear this. She gave Archimedes a warm look. He was distinctly less stained and shabby this morning, she thought to herself. In fact, he looked quite well; yellow suited him. He had nice eyes, light brown, and a nice face, long-boned and expressive.
"I couldn't permit you to lose anything on my account, lady," he said, recovering himself a little. "Thank you for the loan of it."
"Your eye's better?" She could see already that it was, though the bruise was still fading around the socket, and an angry red mark remained on the white of the eye itself.
"Quite better, thank you," he replied, then swallowed and lapsed into an awkward silence.
Delia sensed her sister-in-law preparing to make small talk. When Agathon had announced Archimedes, she'd told the queen that this was a catapult engineer who happened to play the aulos, and that they'd exchanged a few words about flute-playing when he last came. Now Philistis was getting ready to say a few words about flutes- it would certainly be flutes; she didn't like war machines.
The small boy forestalled her. "Delia said you make catapults," he told Archimedes in an accusing tone.
Archimedes blinked at him. The child had auburn curls and the queen's hazel eyes. Hieron was known to have a son, Gelon. This chubby boy was undoubtedly that
son, and would be the next tyrant of Syracuse, if democracy or the Romans didn't intervene.
"Yes," he replied politely. "I've just finished one."
"I like catapults," said Gelon eagerly, and Archimedes realized that the accusing tone had been due to simple interest. "Is it a big one? Does it throw stones or shoot arrows? How far can it throw?"
"It's a one-talent stone-hurler," replied Archimedes. "That's bigger than any other catapult in the city now, though there's another as big with the army. I don't know exactly how far it will throw, because we haven't done the trials yet. I came here to ask the regyour grandfather when and where he wanted me to test it."
"How heavy is one talent?" Gelon demanded.
"Heavier than you, Gelonion mine," said the queen. "And that's enough about catapults!"
"That's big!" said little Gelon delightedly, ignoring his mother. "If there was somewhere soft to land, maybe you could shoot me out of that catapult. I'd go flying up through the air like a bird!"
The slave woman- evidently his nurse- clicked her tongue in horror. "Perish the thought, baby!" she exclaimed. "My precious lamb, it would kill you!"
"I don't see how flying would kill me!" replied Gelon indignantly.
"Not the flying," Archimedes told him. "The catapult throw. You think about it. My one-talenter should hurl a sixty-pound weight four or five hundred feet, and the missile is supposed to land hard enough to knock over stone battlements and smash houses. Think what the stone must feel when the string hits it!"
Gelon's eyes widened as he thought. Then he grinned admiringly. "That's a good catapult!" he said.
Archimedes grinned back. He would have preferred those words to come from Delia, but they were perfectly acceptable from the child. "I think so. The foreman of the workshop thinks so, too- at least, he said it was the best he'd seen."
Delia was pleased. Agathon had passed on a little of what Epimeles had told him, but she was glad to hear it confirmed. She was relieved, though, that she had not had to ask about the catapult herself. Her interest in Archimedes might be abstract and innocent, a ruler's interest in a potentially valuable servant of the state- but the people around her would never believe that. They all assumed that girls her age thought about nothing but love.
"It will smash the Romans!" gloated Gelon. He smashed a small fist into a palm, smack!
Archimedes grinned again. "That's what I hope!"
" 'Course, my papa's already smashed the Romans," the boy added importantly. "Have you heard? But I expect they'll have to be smashed again before the war's over."
"Gelon, that's enough!" said the queen firmly. "Phew, what a hot day it is. Much too hot to talk about the war. Archimedes son of Phidias, my sister-in-law tells me that you play the aulos. Perhapsif you're waiting for my father- you'd amuse us with a little music to help pass the time?"
Archimedes blinked again. If Syracuse's tyrant had won a victory, why didn't the tyrant's wife want to talk about it? But he bowed and said, "I'm happy to play for you, if you'd like, Lady Philistis." Respectable women's names were not usually mentioned, but Hieron had made dedications to the gods jointly with his wife, and when a name was inscribed in the temples it was hardly improper to repeat it. "But I didn't bring my flutes with me."
"I'd like," said Delia quickly. She'd rather make music than small talk. She snapped her fingers and said to the nurse, "Melaina, go and fetch two sets of auloi." She smiled at Archimedes. "We could have a duet."
Archimedes grinned slowly back at her. Gelon made a disgusted sound: he'd far prefer to hear more about catapults. Since the adults weren't going to oblige, he abandoned them. He had an interesting hole he was digging under the shrubbery in a corner of the garden; he hurried off to it while his nurse was busy, before she could tell him not to get himself dirty.
When the nurse returned with the two sets of auloi, Archimedes slipped the reeds into the mouthpieces of the pair he'd been given and tried the slides. He had been handed a baritone and bass, presumably because instruments with a lower range had been considered more suitable for a man; Delia had an alto and tenor. He actually preferred the mid-to high-range auloi, but the fingering was the same. He looked at Delia, and saw, with satisfaction, that she was tying on the cheek strap he had given her. He smiled; she smiled back, then tossed him her old cheek strap. "Here," she said. "You can borrow this a little longer."
He murmured his thanks as he put it on. He remembered playing the aulos for the woman in Alexandria. She had heard him play at a party one of his friends had thrown, and the next day she had sent him a perfumed invitation to her house. She had a right to invite whomever she liked, since she was a courtesan- one of the legendary courtesans of Alexandria, the women who rivaled the gods for beauty. He'd expected her to send him away again as soon as she realized that he wasn't wealthy. But she hadn't. Not for a while, anyway. And when she had finally sent him away, she had been so gentle- "My dearest, you are ruining yourself for me. I cannot permit that, you know." He had tried to dissuade her: "I can build some more water-snails!" But she had replied, "My dearest, no. There is only one Pegasus. I will not be the one to bind him to earth when he might have the sky."
Lais had liked his playing. He would see if Delia did.
She set her flutes to her lips, caught his eye, then began the same Euripides variation she had been playing when they first met. He listened for a couple of beats, then joined in. At first he simply played the same melody in a deeper tone, but as they progressed he began embroidering it with grace notes and syncopation. Delia's eyes lit with pleasure. She switched the tune to her alto instrument and used the tenor for accompaniment. Archimedes instantly imitated her, playing the tune on his bass aulos and the accompaniment on the baritone. Delia added the syncopation on the alto; Archimedes countered it on the bass. They played the piece through to the end, taking a keen pleasure in the way the high and low phrases of the tune reverberated against the middle.
When the tune was finished, Delia played a few ornamental trills, then launched suddenly and without warning into a dramatic piece of chorus music with a complex pounding rhythm. Archimedes joined her within a phrase, then began toying with the rhythm, resolving all the long beats and running the short ones together. She gave him a startled look, and he took the flutes away from his lips long enough to grin, then played on. He dropped all the long beats and replaced them with complicated phrases of accompaniment. Delia's eyes widened. Archimedes rejoined her on the tune; after a few bars, she let him carry the melody and began resolving notes as he had done, hesitantly at first, then with a sudden flush of delight, riding the beats in a flurry of quavers. Archimedes suddenly dropped the melody again and for perhaps a minute they both played an accompaniment to a tune that had become only an idea in two minds, an unheard force holding together two wild improvisations. Then Archimedes returned to the tune; in half a beat, Delia had joined him, and together they slowed the tempo and finished in a single drawn-out note.
They lowered their flutes at the same time, smiled at the same time, and cried, "You're good!" in the same breathless gasp. Then they both laughed.
Delia turned to her sister-in-law. "Have you ever heard anything like that?" she demanded excitedly.
Philistis was frowning, and she shook her head.
"Oh, we play improvisations a lot in my family," said Archimedes, wiping the flutes' mouthpieces on his cloak. "But not on the auloi. That is, I do, but the rest of my family play strings. Playing with another aulist- by Apollo, it's like- like squaring the circle!"
Philistis abruptly stood up, smoothing her tunic. "That was very… interesting," she said, with an air of having found it just about survivable. "Very… unusual. But you mustn't let us delay you any longer, my good fellow. I'm sure you have plenty of work waiting for you at the catapult workshops. I'm sorry that my father isn't back yet. I'll tell him you were here."
Archimedes almost responded that he had finished his business at the workshop for the time being. Then he realized t
hat he was being dismissed. He opened his mouth- and closed it again. He should not be surprised that the queen did not want him loitering in the house like an old family friend. Reluctantly, he untied the cheek strap and stood up. He bowed to Delia, handed her the strip of leather and her borrowed auloi, and muttered his thanks for the loan. Then, pulling his cloak straight with a regretful sigh, he wished the ladies joy and departed, drooping.
As soon as he was out of sight, Delia turned toward the queen angrily. "Why did you tell him to go?" she demanded, "That wasn't interesting, it was wonderful!"
"I sent him off because I could see you thought that," said Philistis. "Sister, he's a… a catapult maker!"
"Oh, Zeus!" exclaimed Delia in disgust. "Does that mean he shouldn't play the flute? No, I forget, you were the one who suggested that he play; it was only my joining in you didn't like. I'm allowed to play music, Philistis!"
Philistis grimaced. She'd always felt that there was something improper about a girl playing the flute, and wished that Delia were not allowed. That was not, however, what this argument was about. "Not with amorous young men," she said firmly.
"Amorous men!" cried Delia furiously. "You never think about anything else. I'm not allowed to go anywhere, do anything, or speak to anyone, because that filthy creature Love might spot me at it! It was wonderful playing like that, I've never played like that before, it was pure music and not the least bit improper- but it's stopped, because I was enjoying it!"
Philistis gave a sigh of exasperation. Her husband's sister was such a difficult creature, always wanting to do the impossible and flying into a temper when she couldn't. "I'm not accusing you of anything improper, my dear," she said soothingly. "I know you were simply enjoying the music. But men- especially young men- are amorous creatures. If you so much as look them in the eyes they start thinking about going to bed. It's your duty to make sure they don't think about it with you. Having a wonderful time with a young man who's poor and insignificant is a good way to make both of you miserable."
The Sand-Reckoner Page 11