Archimedes got up close to the shutter and used the crystal lens to examine the hole where this diffuse sunlight came through. After a moment he turned to me. “There is something unique about passing light through a small hole. It tends to focus the light in some way. Aristotle spoke of this effect, and if I’m not mistaken, we should be able to observe it here. Get the canvas screen and go to the middle of the room.”
I took the screen from the workbench and went to the middle of the room.
Archimedes stood beside the hole in the shutter. “Hold the screen up in front of you at the level of the hole and walk straight toward it, very slowly.”
I held the white screen at my chest. Immediately I noticed shadowed streaks of light on the canvas. As I moved closer, the streaks grew brighter and seemed to move across the screen in wide angles. When I was five feet from Archimedes, he told me to stop.
“Hold the screen still. Right there.” He came up close to me. “There’s something here on the screen, Timon.” He inspected the screen with the lens. “But my eyes aren’t good enough to see it, even with the lens. Let me hold it.”
We exchanged positions, and he took the screen.
“What do you see, Timon?”
There was more than just white light on the screen. It took me a moment to decipher it, but I was looking at an image. A moving image! “I see clouds and the sea. And buildings. That are upside down!”
“Yes, yes,” said Archimedes excitedly.
“What is this? Where does this picture come from?”
“It’s coming through the hole. Somehow the tiny hole reconstructs the light into whatever is on the other side. Open the shutter. Look for yourself.”
I cracked open the shutter to peer outside. “That’s just what I saw,” I said, “but it’s reversed top to bottom and right to left.”
“Much as we saw with the candles.”
“Is this magic?” I asked in awe.
“No, it’s a natural effect. It’s optics. Close the shutter and tell me what you see as I come closer to the window.”
With each step he took toward the window, the image got smaller and clearer. “I can see people in the distance walking. I can see the roof of the Temple of Apollo. Every detail. All the color.” I could barely believe what I was seeing.
At a very close distance, the image blurred. Closer still, it couldn’t be seen at all.
Archimedes gave the screen to me and asked me to move back from the window to a position where I thought the image was at its optimum in size and clarity.
I did this as best I could.
“Now stay there, and hold still.” Archimedes placed the lens over the tiny hole. “Does that change the image?” he asked.
I had to hold the screen off to one side to look at it. “No, it makes it blurry.”
He moved the lens a short distance from the hole. “How’s that?”
“Better—and no longer upside down!”
“Yes, yes, I wondered about that.”
Archimedes continued to move the lens, forward and back, gradually bringing greater focus to the image.
“Right there!” I cried out. “That’s as clear as if it were painted on the canvas.”
“Yes, even I can see it!” Archimedes exclaimed. “Little by little, Timon, I think we will learn how this works. Somehow the tiny hole aligns and reverses the rays of light. Adding the lens does the same, increasing the clarity and flipping the image right-side up.”
“But how does it make a picture?”
“I’m not sure,” said Archimedes, “but I believe the geometry will tell us.”
Archimedes made me promise not to say anything about what we had done, then told me to pull back the drapes and open the shutters. By the time I was done, he was staring out the east window deep in thought. It seemed the demonstration had sparked an idea in him. He didn’t tell me what it was, but he was so preoccupied with the thought that he didn’t say another word to me the rest of the day.
CHAPTER 28
Two days later Archimedes asked me to deliver a letter to the courier and to take a set of drawings to Orestes the woodworker. The first errand would take me to the palace and the second would take me out of Achradina. It meant a chance to stop by the market to see Moira.
The letter was to Diocles of Arcadia. I had finished copying it that morning. I didn’t understand all of it, but it contained descriptions of our experiments with the beam of light and some questions about conic sections. Archimedes had entered into a flurry of letter writing since Hiero’s death. It seemed there were several geometric problems he felt great pressure to solve and share with his friends before the war came to Syracuse. Copying these letters was tedious, but it greatly increased my understanding of the work I was doing with Archimedes.
As I left the tower on my way to the courier, I saw Plato across the yard, hunkered down on all fours. Except for the twitching of his tail, he was completely still and appeared to be staring at something. I went over to see what it was.
As I got close, Plato glanced at me over his shoulder, as if I were interrupting, then returned to staring at a small rose bush a foot or so in front of him. I knelt down beside him to see what he was looking at. Within the branches of the rose bush was a mouse, watching Plato as intently as Plato was watching it.
After a moment, I concluded that Plato must have been chasing the mouse, and that the rodent had sought protection from the cat among the thorns of the rose bush. And it was working. Plato could not get at the mouse with his teeth or his claws.
I’d never seen such a thing and knelt there watching for quite a while, thinking how funny it was. The mouse made two forays from the bush, but Plato blocked its escape immediately both times, sending the mouse scurrying right back into the sanctuary of thorns. When I finally did leave to run my errand, I knew that the cat’s patience would outlast the mouse’s, and that the mouse would eventually be Plato’s meal.
I went to the palace courier first, then headed north on Via Intermuralis, up onto the plateau to the woodworking shop. When I gave the drawings to Orestes, I mentioned that I occasionally worked with his wife. He smiled and said he knew. Cales was there and for the first time I was properly introduced to Lavinia’s son.
From the woodshop I went directly to the market. I was excited, but also anxious. As much as I wanted to see Moira, she’d proven unpredictable. She also knew now that I was a slave, and I didn’t really know what that might mean to her. I skipped and dodged through the crowd until I got close. Then I slowed down, not wanting to give away how eager I was to see her.
Both Moira and her grandfather were helping customers when I walked up. Moira finished with her sale first. As the customer turned away, I sputtered out, “How—how are your dried figs?”
Moira broke into a big smile, causing me to stare down at my feet.
“What? Are your sandals too tight?” she teased.
“No,” I replied, finally looking up at her. “I, uh—”
Moira broke into laughter. “Timon, you’re funny. Would you like a few figs? Or did you come just to see me?”
“Both,” I blurted out. “Two coppers worth.”
She laughed again. “Two coppers worth of me won’t get you much,” she said with a sly smile that was miles beyond me. “But it will get you thirty figs.”
“That would be perfect.”
She counted out thirty figs in a way that let many more fall into my hands. I put them in my pocket and was suddenly stuck. I wanted to stay and talk to her, but there were other customers and I didn’t want to be a nuisance.
Moira was way ahead of me. She lowered her voice. “Do you know where the auctions take place?”
All too familiar with the spot, I nodded.
“Wait for me there,” she whispered, then turned to the next customer.
Despite my one horrible memory of the place, I went to the wooden platform on the west edge of the market. There was no auction that day, so I sat down on a nearby be
nch and ate three figs as slowly as I could. Quite a long time passed. I grew impatient and a little angry. I didn’t want to leave, but I also couldn’t wait all day. I’m sure my head was down, staring at my toes, when something small struck me on the shoulder. I looked up, but didn’t see anything. Then something landed in my lap. It was a fig. I stood up and Moira jumped out from behind the platform, laughing.
“I had you, Timon! I had you!”
I was so glad to see her I didn’t care if the joke was on me, and I laughed just as hard as she did.
“Sorry I took so long,” she said. “My grandfather keeps a close eye on me. I had to make up a reason to leave.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Nature was calling.”
It took me a second, then the two of us were laughing again.
“Catch me,” she said, taking off at a run.
“What?” I called after her with no choice but to chase her.
We ran through the market, just being silly, playing hide and seek, and gawking at the various things people had for sale. It was fun and exhilarating and just the kind of nonsense I needed.
But as suddenly as it had started, it was over. Moira said she’d run out of time. She took off at a run back to her grandfather’s stand. It was all I could do not to run after her. But I needed to hurry also. I jogged in ecstasy down Via Intermuralis to the Achradina gate. I showed my note from Archimedes to the guards and was soon skipping up the stairs of the tower. I hadn’t had such an exhilarating day since being taken from Croton. But more importantly, I had a friend!
When I entered the workshop, Archimedes was using his lens as a magnifying glass to help him write a letter. There was a letter on my desk to be copied—and something else. Four small rodent feet were arranged in a pile on top of the letter. I looked up and there was Plato, napping on the south window sill with his front paws curled beneath his chest. He opened his eyes halfway to meet my gaze, then closed them again to settle back into his nap.
CHAPTER 29
Finally the grief of losing my parents and the trauma of my kidnapping were giving way to the passage of time. I still wanted very much to find Adeon, but since meeting Moira it didn’t seem quite as urgent. More importantly, I had begun to feel good about myself.
The threat of war, however, seemed to build day by day. A second Roman emissary from Lilybaeum came to Syracuse. The king refused him an audience, infuriating the Roman Senate and increasing tensions in Sicily. There seemed little doubt we were headed for trouble.
Then, against all reason, Hieronymus demanded a change in the original agreement he had made with Carthage. He didn’t want just the eastern half of Sicily; he wanted the entire island. It had once been Pyrrhus’ kingdom—was that not his destiny also? Again, against all reason, Carthage accepted this request. It seemed impossible that they could do this in good faith, but the Carthaginian Senate was fully aware of who was advising Hieronymus. The boy was being played like a lyre. Each string plucked was a step deeper into the Punic trap.
Rome soon learned of this new arrangement. Worried this could lead to attacks on Roman settlements in Sicily, the Roman Senate sent another envoy to Syracuse. The day the envoy arrived, Hieronymus, in a rare moment of sobriety, called for a meeting of the city council—the first since his coronation. Several of the council magistrates advised reconciliation with Rome. Adranodorus alone spoke in support of maintaining the alliance with Carthage. Hieronymus made no commitment to either, but drank that night with the two Carthaginian brothers. They promised him support from Carthage should a conflict arise and reassured him that Carthage would win its war with Rome.
The next day Hieronymus returned to his insulting ways. He told the envoy he would abide by the agreement his grandfather had made only if Rome would return all the tributes Syracuse had paid since the treaty was first signed fifty years ago. Rome considered this a declaration of war.
CHAPTER 30
A few weeks after Archimedes had performed the demonstration with the beam of light, he gave me the two wooden forms that Orestes had made. One was a hemisphere; the other was a flatter, parabolic shape. I was assigned the task of making two concave bronze mirrors using these forms. It was a complicated process that began with building sand molds from the forms, followed by the melting and pouring of bronze into those molds, and ultimately a long period of polishing the interior surfaces to make them reflect.
I had never worked with bronze before. Archimedes usually gave his work orders to the best craftsmen in the city, but he didn’t want these mirrors seen outside his workshop. He told me to do the best job I could. “I know this work is new to you, Timon. Take your time. I will advise you. These are prototypes. I don’t expect them to be perfect. They only need to roughly demonstrate what I hope to prove with geometry.” Then he added what had now become a recurring stipulation. “You are not to speak of this work to anyone.”
Three days later I was packing oiled sand into a wooden box to build a mold for the hemispherical form. Archimedes sat at his desk, painstakingly scratching out a proof on a piece of papyrus with the aid of the crystal lens. At the far end of the workbench, Plato sat with his ears pointed straight outwards, making him look like an owl. Suddenly his ears stood straight up. He jumped from the table and disappeared into the collection of tools and machines that cluttered the floor.
A moment later I heard the footsteps of a single individual slowly climbing up the stairs. I called to Archimedes so that he might put his lens away. He paid no attention. We rarely had visitors. Laius came by no more than once a month. Tacitus Maso, captain of the garrison, had checked in only twice during all the time that I had been there. Could it be someone from the kitchen staff? They had never come to the workshop before. I quickly went to Archimedes and touched his shoulder.
“There’s someone coming, sir.”
He immediately put the lens away, then returned to his work as if he didn’t need the visual aid.
The footsteps reached the landing. A firm knock rattled the door. I looked to Archimedes. He paid it no mind. The knock came again. I got up and opened the door. Hippocrates stood on the landing, wearing a black leather cuirass and matching kilt. His eyes sparkled as if he recognized me from the birthday party, now more than a month past. “I’ve come to see Archimedes. Would you announce me to your master?”
The Carthaginian was a large, imposing man, probably not yet forty years old. As I crossed the chamber, he walked into the room. I dutifully tapped Archimedes on the shoulder, knowing full well he was aware of our visitor, then spoke into his ear. “Hippocrates has come to see you, sir.”
Hippocrates was inspecting the apparatus around the room. He gave the terrella a quarter turn and smiled. He picked up a compound pulley from the workbench, then approached Archimedes, who stood.
The mathematician spoke in his deep sonorous voice. “I have forgotten many things, Hippocrates, but I do remember your saying you’d like to visit.”
Hippocrates nodded. “I have admired your work, Archimedes, since I was a boy. I lived in Syracuse when I was very young. I was there when you demonstrated the value of compound pulleys”—he lifted the one in his hand—“by towing a fully loaded warship from the water by yourself.”
Hippocrates was extremely articulate. You could feel his intelligence and culture. The Romans called the Carthaginians barbarians, but Hannibal was not a barbarian, and neither was Hippocrates.
“That’s very kind of you,” replied Archimedes, clearly uneasy despite the man’s impeccable manners. “I thought that had been forgotten.”
“I will never forget it,” said Hippocrates. He crossed the room to the terrella. “May I?”
Archimedes nodded.
Hippocrates gave the large globe a full turn. Then another. He faced Archimedes. “The motion of the planets?”
“There aren’t many men who could make that connection, Hippocrates. Is it something you think about?”
“Only for navigation. No gran
d philosophy.”
I had learned from Laius that Hippocrates’ great grandfather had been exiled from Syracuse seventy years earlier for murdering Agatharchus, son of then King of Syracuse, Agathocles. Now it seemed that the great grandson was playing the same game of royal politics.
Hippocrates noticed the hemispherical form on the table beside the wooden box I had packed with sand. Archimedes gave me a look.
Hippocrates picked up the form. “What have we here? Something new?”
“Something old, I’m afraid,” lied Archimedes. “A toy that my slave is making to amuse the king.”
Hippocrates put it down. “Adranodorus told me that you were once the chief engineer in Syracuse. And that you did the outfitting of the battlements throughout the city. He said you built catapults and other war machines. One day I would like to take a tour of the fortifications with you.” He paused to glance at the diagram on Archimedes’ desk. “I can see that you are busy now. Would you mind if I came back another time to review the city’s defenses?”
Archimedes had no choice. He said that would be fine. Hippocrates stayed a while longer, quietly looking at all the things in the room, clearly trying not to disturb Archimedes, who had gone back to his proof. Then the Carthaginian walked out.
What could have been explosive had turned into nothing.
I think I was as surprised as Archimedes. Hippocrates had been friendly and polite. Like his introduction after the birthday dinner, he was all manners. But there was no mistaking it. The visit wasn’t innocent admiration of Archimedes. Nor was it simple curiosity. He was working on Archimedes just as carefully as Hannibal worked on the leaders of the cities he hoped to bring over to the Carthaginian side. Hippocrates knew that Archimedes could be useful to Carthage and was deliberately courting his favor.
The Siege of Syracuse Page 15