Archimedes did eventually come out of his trance. He paced around the workshop, ending up at the window where Plato had been. The old man stood at the window, staring out over the city for a long time. Then he left the chamber, presumably to go to bed.
CHAPTER 70
After several days had passed and there had been time to reflect on what had happened, it was clear the parabolic mirrors had served their purpose. Although there were only three and their application to actual battle targets was limited, the sight of them setting fire to ships and men had crippled the Romans’ morale. Compared to the cranes or the catapults, the mirrors were sorcery. The soldier conceded to the mathematician. Marcellus pulled back his forces and set up a blockade, determined to starve Syracuse into surrender.
Marcellus knew this would be a long and difficult task. Much of the winter grain had been harvested and stored before Appius’ arrival a month earlier. The city was also large enough that it had several small orchards and extended vegetable gardens within the perimeter. Add the moody sea to the east, and sealing off Syracuse’s two harbors with a string of warships was imperfect at best. Some supplies would get through.
To increase the efficiency of the blockade, Marcellus decided to put pressure on other targets in Sicily. He and Appius would split their forces. Marcellus would march south with one legion, while Appius would remain outside Syracuse to manage the blockade with three decimated legions and what remained of the fleet.
A week after the failed third assault, Marcellus set off with ten thousand men to secure as many cities in the region as he could. Helorum and Herbesus were the first cities on his list. They submitted as soon as Marcellus and his army appeared outside their gates. Megara was next. The militia there didn’t back down so easily, but they also didn’t have an Archimedes within their walls. Marcellus decided to make an example of Megara for the rest of Sicily. It took him just three days to overrun the city. He allowed his men to pillage and loot at will. Then he installed a permanent Roman garrison and continued his campaign.
Meanwhile news of Hippocrates’ successful defense of Syracuse had reached Hannibal at his camp in Apulia. He knew Marcellus through his own encounters with the man and was surprised that such a capable general had been held off so easily. But what captivated Hannibal most were the stories of Archimedes’ weapons. The reports from Hippocrates were almost too fantastic to believe. Hannibal began to sense a victory in Syracuse. He sent one of his most trusted generals, Himilco, to Carthage with a request for immediate support. Hannibal asked the Senate to amass the largest force possible and send it to Sicily.
Two weeks after Megara fell to Marcellus, Himilco left Africa with thirty warships and one hundred transports. The transports carried twenty-five thousand foot soldiers, three thousand cavalry, and twelve elephants. Although it was the beginning of fall and a time of year when sea travel on the Mediterranean began to decline for the winter, the winds were favorable and the crossing was made in just two days. But when the fleet reached Sicily, strong winds from the east forced Himilco to wait out the weather on the south side of Cape Pachynum.
When the delay reached three days, Himilco assembled his troops on the cape and began the march north to Syracuse. Along the way he restored Carthaginian garrisons to the cities of Heraclea and Agrigentum.
CHAPTER 71
The city of Syracuse seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Archimedes’ weapons had held off the Romans. Their camp to the south was visible from the battlements, but a good two miles from the city walls. Their camp to the north was outside Leon, five miles away. The Romans applied no direct pressure to the city itself aside from patrolling the perimeter on horseback.
Within the city, stores of food were carefully conserved. On occasion provisions slipped through the blockade, and as yet, there was no reason for panic. City life proceeded almost normally. The common belief among the populace and the soldiers in the garrison was that the blockade couldn’t last.
Hippocrates had his own network of informants. He knew Himilco was bringing fresh troops from the south, and that Marcellus would return to Syracuse as soon as he learned of it. He also knew that Carthage, under the direction of Hannibal, was sending yet another fleet of warships to Syracuse under the command of Bomilcar, admiral of the Carthaginian navy. Everything was shaping up for a major confrontation within the next few weeks outside Syracuse. Although the war in Italy had settled into a defensive stalemate, the battle for Sicily had opened a volatile new front.
Hippocrates and Epicydes decided that they didn’t need all of the soldiers they had accumulated within the walls of Syracuse. The city could be defended with a third the number because of the efficiency of Archimedes’ weapons. They assembled an army to join Himilco and prepare for Marcellus’ return.
In a move entirely unexpected by the Romans, Hippocrates rode out of Syracuse in the middle of the night with ten thousand foot soldiers and five hundred cavalry. He picked the weakest point in the ring of Roman roadblocks and forced his way through. He was gone and headed west before Appius could stop him. Epicydes stayed in Syracuse to manage defense of the city.
I learned of Hippocrates’ departure the following morning. The kitchen staff was talking about it when I entered the pantry. The morning conversation had always centered on personal issues, meals for the upcoming day, or gossip from the palace. But things changed when Lavinia’s son joined the militia. Conversation now focused on the war.
“Cales left last night with his company,” lamented Lavinia as I poured myself a cup of warm kykeon and settled onto a sack of oats.
Agathe had the same information. “He’ll be traveling with Phocis.”
Lavinia sat up. “What do you know? When will they be back?”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about when they’ll be back, Lavinia—just if they’ll be back.”
Lavinia turned away, knowing this was true.
Hektor changed the subject with what was probably the only thing he could have said to get the women’s attention. “I’m getting divorced.”
“What! On what grounds?” demanded Lavinia.
“I caught Dora with a soldier.”
“You caught them together?” Lavinia didn’t believe it. Hektor’s wife was enormously fat and quite shy.
“Not exactly.”
“Then what?”
“I overheard some of the soldiers talking about her over dinner.”
This drew Agathe into the conversation. “Have you confronted her?”
“Yes. She denied it of course.” Hektor stood up abruptly. He wasn’t answering any more questions. He headed out of the pantry to the kitchen.
Lavinia followed him up the stairs. “I don’t like talk of divorce any more than I like this horrible war, Hektor. What’s going on?”
Hektor’s curse echoed down the stairwell.
Agathe looked directly at Eurydice. I expected a caustic remark. “Let’s go outside,” was all she said.
CHAPTER 72
During the first two weeks of the blockade, I spent much of my time with Archimedes at the warehouse, where he encountered one difficulty after another in the construction of the fourth parabolic array. He was either in the warehouse making tiny adjustments or at his desk, writing letters that could not be sent.
One morning Lavinia brought word that her husband Orestes had finished the parts he had been asked to make prior to the Romans’ last assault. The message included an apology for its taking so long. His shop had been damaged during the Roman catapult barrage.
I was sent to Orestes’ shop to retrieve the parts that afternoon. Both the island and Achradina had been locked up tight since the third attack. It was the first time I’d had a chance to leave Achradina to see how badly the tent city had been damaged. The report from Orestes was not encouraging.
Expecting the worst, I took my time walking to the Tyche district. I approached the area that had been the market from the east. I could see the tents from a distance. My first impression wa
s that it had not been as bad as I feared. But as I got closer, I could see that what had been a ragtag assortment of shelters prior to the bombardment had been rebuilt on the cratered ground with leftover scraps of canvas and rubble. Boulders of various sizes dotted the area. Well more than half the tents were gone. Many of the inhabitant wore bandages or exposed vicious new scars. One young boy approached me for a handout. I gave him a copper coin. I described Moira and her grandfather and asked him if he had seen them. He couldn’t give me a coherent answer. Instead he babbled on about the horrors he had seen and the number of dead that had been removed.
I trudged through the war zone, peering into the tattered tents. Some contained invalids lying on the ground. Some held handfuls of children peering back at me through hollow eyes. Some revealed just the backs of soldiers, their asses bare, as they pleasured themselves between the legs of women they had bought for a crust of bread or a sip of wine, often with a child sitting alongside, vacantly watching.
It got so bad that I couldn’t bear to look into the beseeching eyes or stomach the foul deeds any longer. I grew increasingly uncomfortable, even afraid for my own safety. Finally it was too much.
Without any sign of Moira or her grandfather, I continued on to Orestes’ shop. Orestes was out front on a ladder, replacing damaged tiles on the shop’s roof. Still he greeted me with a smile and stopped his work to retrieve a box of very small and intricately carved, wooden machine parts. He apologized again for the delay, but there was no need. I had seen first-hand what this portion of the city had been through.
“I sure could have used Cales this week,” Orestes said.
“I know someone else who misses him pretty badly.”
Orestes nodded. “It’s been hard on Lavinia.” He looked around. Broken buildings outnumbered the whole. “This place looks pretty good now compared to what it was.” He shook his head sadly. “I guess I should be thankful no one was here when the shop was struck.”
I thanked him for his work and paid him. I went straight to the garden in Neapolis. I hoped I might find Moira there, but didn’t. I crawled into the laurel bush warren anyway and cried. I felt certain Moira was dead. How strange, I thought; despite all the horror I had seen that afternoon, the uncomfortable fact was that we were winning the war.
CHAPTER 73
Dinner was almost prepared. All the serving trays were lined up on the tables ready to be carried into the mess hall, when one of the drawbridge guards ran full speed across the yard to the barracks.
Hektor called out to him as he sprinted past. “What’s the hurry?”
“The militia’s third company took a bad hit outside Acrillae,” he yelled back over his shoulder.
Lavinia and Agathe were on opposite sides of the kitchen. Agathe said it first. “That’s our sons’ unit!”
“No!” Lavinia screamed. She ran after the guard, following him into the mess hall, where he was briefing Tacitus Maso on what he had heard.
“It was three days ago,” reported the guard, panting from the run. “They’d been out five days and were setting up camp. The Roman general Marcellus was on his way back from Megara with a legion of soldiers. The Romans caught them by surprise. Marcellus butchered half of them and captured most of the rest.”
“What about Hippocrates?” asked Maso.
“He got away with a good portion of the cavalry. Some of the others scattered across the countryside. I’m guessing they will be filtering back one or two at a time over the next few weeks.”
This was the first real setback of the war. The third company was made up of friends and family throughout the garrison. Lavinia fell down on the mess hall floor, wailing and pulling out her hair. Finally, two soldiers lifted her to her feet and escorted her back to the kitchen. She simply stood there shaking. Agathe embraced Lavinia and held her while she cried. Agathe made no sound, but tears rolled from her eyes.
No one dared voice the slightest optimism. It was possible one or both of their sons might straggle back home, but it seemed cruel at this point to express any such hope.
CHAPTER 74
The season for sea travel was rapidly coming to an end. Bomilcar caught perfect weather and made the crossing from Africa to Syracuse in three and a half days with fifty-five warships. When he arrived, blustery conditions prevented the Romans from engaging them in a full scale encounter. His fleet slipped into the Great Harbor without the loss of a single ship.
The Roman Senate was not to be outdone. They sent thirty Roman quinqueremes to Panormus with a legion of soldiers. Over the next two weeks, the fleet would accompany the soldiers traveling east along the coast of Sicily to Messana and then south to Syracuse.
Appius was southwest of the city, entrenched in the hills beside the Temple of Zeus. Marcellus had returned and was camped to the north, near Leon. The Carthaginian general Himilco, who had been joined by Hippocrates, was camped up the Anapus River, west of Syracuse. All the parts and pieces of a large battle were within half a day’s march of each other. When assembled, thirty thousand Roman and allied Latin forces would be faced off against thirty thousand Carthaginians, mercenaries, and allied Sicilians. Bomilcar’s fleet occupied the Great Harbor; an opposing fleet would soon arrive at the north end of Trogyli Harbor to join the rest of the Roman naval forces. The stage was set for the massive confrontation Hippocrates had anticipated.
Marcellus remained determined not to give up the blockade. He was well-positioned to prevent all land entry to the city. He’d deliberately had Appius build his camp into the hills where no army could dislodge him without huge cost. Himilco’s only offensive option was to lure Appius into battle in the farmland south of the city. But this would expose the Roman flank to the Carthaginian forces within the walls of Syracuse. There was no incentive for Appius to take that risk. For a week neither side made a move. Bomilcar saw the stalemate, and fearing he might get trapped in the harbor by the larger Roman fleet, took advantage of the wind and sailed out of the harbor bound for Africa.
The situation diffused. Appius was called to Rome to stand for his consulship. He was replaced by Titus Quinctius Crispinus. The following month came and went with nothing more than a handful of skirmishes. The big battle never took place. Both armies settled in for the winter. The populace of Syracuse remained hostage within the city’s walls, at the mercy of two armies wedged into the landscape like interlocking pieces of a puzzle. The long, hard months of the blockade had begun.
During this time, I rarely left the island. Security at all gates was heightened. With the palace functioning as the center of military operations, Achradina was now off-limits to all but the military. It was possible for me to leave the island, but I was required to have a letter from Archimedes if I wanted to go through the Achradina gate. Our warehouse was thoroughly stocked. There was little reason for me to leave the island, except my desire to see Moira.
With Hippocrates outside the city, Epicydes acted as dictator. His focus was considerably different than his brother’s. After Marcellus’ three failed attacks on the city, defense became less of a concern. More important issues for Epicydes were morale within the city and the rationing of supplies. He paid no attention to Archimedes, and as soon as Archimedes understood this, he stopped working on the adjustable array and concentrated on proofs and letter writing.
Unfortunately, Archimedes’ vision had continued to weaken. He could scratch lines in the sand to help him think through a proof or he could use the crystal lens and with great difficulty write them out on papyrus. But his handwriting had deteriorated with his vision. More and more, he would simply dictate his letters to me.
A few letters managed to get through from the outside, but Archimedes never knew for certain if the letters he sent out were received. He had been reduced to an ivory tower scholar, pouring over work that might never be seen by anyone else but me.
CHAPTER 75
As the weeks passed, life in Syracuse steadily became more austere. All meals on the island were reduced to mil
itary rations. While the overworked kitchen staff was fine with this, Hektor got bored. He couldn’t have cared less about the war. His divorce had gone through and he had other things on his mind. He stepped up his drinking and entered into an untoward courtship of Eurydice.
We were cleaning up after dinner one evening. Hektor by this time of day—on any day—was useless for anything but foul humor. Before the flooding of the tunnel, slaves from the palace had always washed the kitchen utensils. Now the staff did the work. It was nothing new for Eurydice or me, but Lavinia and Agathe thought it was beneath them. Agathe complained as a matter of course.
The kitchen had two sinks. One was attached to the tower wall and beneath cover. The other stood alone out in the open. Lavinia and Agathe were at this second sink. The uncertainty surrounding their sons had created a bond between them. Nothing was said, but it was clear that things had changed. I was at the other sink with Eurydice. She was doing the washing. I did the sorting and drying. Hektor approached us drunkenly and told me to go help Lavinia and Agathe. He would take over the drying.
I was surprised that Hektor had decided to join in, and thought little else of it, but Agathe knew immediately what was happening.
“Keep an eye on our friend Hektor,” she said, accenting the word friend. I wasn’t sure what she meant. Lavinia seemed to understand right away.
The three of us stood side by side at the outside trough. Hektor and Eurydice stood at the other sink with their backs to us, maybe twenty feet away. While Hektor engaged Eurydice in conversation, with her only nodding or giving short responses, Agathe and Lavinia exchanged whispers.
The Siege of Syracuse Page 29