“No, no. I just want to ask her about my parents.”
He thought about it, then called to one of the women by the hearth. “Go get Adeon. Have her come out here.”
My heart suddenly shot up into my throat. Moira touched me on the shoulder. The man looked us over suspiciously. Then I heard voices coming from the house. Adeon recognized me right away and came running.
“Timon, Timon,” she cried, “I wondered if our paths might cross again.” She was a young woman, just over twenty. She hugged me like a long-lost brother. “How is it that you are here?”
“I’ve become a slave too.” I began to tell her my story, but the man was losing patience.
“Get to the point. I don’t have all day.”
I looked at Adeon. “You were there when my parents were attacked. What happened to them?”
Adeon looked at the ground. “Your father died that night from the knife wound. Your mother was badly beaten—so was Lucretia. We all were.”
Even though I had seen my father stabbed and thought he must be dead, the confirmation of his death hit me harder than I had expected. “What about my mother?” I asked. “Is she still alive?”
“She wasn’t killed that night. That’s all I know. Like you, she was taken away to be sold into slavery.”
I couldn’t imagine my mother as a slave. “She’s not here in Syracuse, is she?” I gasped, nearly in tears.
“No, you and I were sent here. The intruders sold your mother and Lucretia to another slave dealer. I believe he took them to Rome.”
“Rome,” I repeated. I didn’t know what to think or say. I don’t know how long I stood there silent.
Adeon’s master suddenly spoke out. “All right, you’ve gotten the information you wanted. My slave has work to do, and I’m sure you do too. Take your leave.”
Adeon led us through the house to the front door. I thanked Adeon and said good-bye, not knowing if I’d ever see her again.
Moira and I walked back the way we came. Neither of us said anything until we reached the bottom of the stairway to the plateau.
“Are you okay, Timon?” she asked.
“I’m not sure.”
“You should be glad that your mother’s alive. At least there’s a chance you can find her. My mother is dead and I’ll never see her again.”
“But my mother may be in Rome. And I’m a slave, stuck in a besieged city.”
“You never know. Things change.”
“I just can’t believe that she’s a slave.” I thought of Hektor fondling Eurydice. “I can’t bear the thought of her being mistreated.”
Moira nodded sadly.
We trudged up the stairs in silence. I was running late. “We should part here, Moira,” I said at the top of the stairway. “Thank you for helping me find Adeon.”
She touched me on the cheek with her hand. “You’ll see your mother again, I know you will.”
I could only nod. She turned to go her way. I went mine. After a few steps, I called back to her. “Come visit again.”
“I will!” she shouted over her shoulder.
CHAPTER 81
A couple of days later, while I was copying a proof, Archimedes retrieved his pan pipe from the shelf behind the drapes on the north wall. It had been a long time since I had heard him play. He went to the east window, and seemingly gathering his inspiration from the heave of the sea, began a long, haunting tune. I forgot the letter and allowed the music to transport me. I remembered my father’s demonstration on his monotone. Tears formed in my eyes as I thought of those times my mother played for my father and me. I needed to get to Rome. Somehow, someday, I would go there and find my mother.
I don’t know how much time had passed when I heard the sound of heavy footsteps on the staircase. Whoever it was had reached the landing and stopped. Archimedes didn’t seem to notice and continued playing.
The door was ajar, but I couldn’t see who was on the landing. I wondered if it could be Hippocrates—or Moira! My heart began to pound, but I didn’t move.
After a while, Archimedes stopped playing and returned the flute to the shelf. I had not heard the person outside the door descend the stairs. Whoever it was had remained on the landing throughout the song. The door swung open slowly. Tacitus Maso came into the workshop. He took a glance at me and went directly up to Archimedes who was standing before his abacus.
Tacitus was not someone I knew well. His hard face offered little expression at all, much less a smile. “Archimedes,” he said, standing right before him, and speaking loudly to be sure to get his attention. “I have served as captain of this garrison for more than four years. As you know, things are changing. I don’t know how much longer I will be stationed here on the island.”
Archimedes nodded.
Tacitus went on. “There is one thing that I will miss more than anything else—not the sea, not the temples, not the good years of King Hiero’s rule, but your flute playing.” I could not see his face. His words were unemotional and even.
Archimedes nodded again.
“I have heard you play only a handful of times. It has always deeply moved me. I couldn’t resist coming up here today to listen on the landing.” He bowed, then turned and walked out.
Archimedes cocked his head as though thinking. After a moment he turned to me. “Timon, are you familiar with Pythagorean harmonics?”
My last conversation with my father was already on my mind. “Yes, sir, I am.”
“I think music might be the most powerful of all mathematical applications.”
I was cleaning up the kitchen that night when I noticed a half bag of wheat berries that hadn’t been taken back to the pantry. I hoisted the sack over my shoulder and headed to the tower, knowing Hektor and Eurydice had gone ahead of me with other dry goods left over from the meal.
Halfway down the stairs I heard Hektor’s voice. His soft tone and carefully chosen words stopped me short.
“Eurydice, you are the most lovely woman I have ever seen.” I could barely hear him. He spoke with a pronounced drunken sincerity. “I know the incident with the king has left you uncertain of men. You may also feel it has damaged you and made you less desirable.”
Hektor paused, but I heard no response from Eurydice. I slid the bag of wheat off my shoulder and let it rest on the stairs.
Hektor continued. “Right now, you and Gelo are living with Lavinia. Lavinia is a good woman and I’m sure she and her husband make you feel welcome—especially since the loss of their son.”
I crept down two more stairs and peeked into the pantry. In the dim yellow light, I saw Hektor standing before Eurydice. She was backed up against the far wall, probably anticipating more unwanted attention.
“I’m well paid as a chef. I have a large home, four slaves, and no children.” He knelt, a little awkwardly because of his weight. Having watched him take liberties with Eurydice for so long, I expected him to lift her dress.
Instead he bowed his head. “I would like your hand in marriage. I want to take you and your son Gelo into my home. I want to give you the best life possible.” He looked up at her. “Will you marry me?”
Even in the poor light I could see the change in Eurydice’s expression. Maybe it was shock or maybe relief. But it wasn’t love. She responded so quietly I couldn’t hear the words, but it was clear what her answer had been.
“But—but you wouldn’t have to work here anymore. For the first time in your life things would be done for you. You would have slaves of your own.”
Again her response was too quietly spoken for me to hear.
I feared that Hektor might get violent. Instead he said that he loved her. He was on the verge of tears. I lifted the bag of wheat and began backing up the stairs, embarrassed for eavesdropping.
I heard Hektor come up from the pantry after I had reached the second flight of stairs. When I was sure he was gone, I took the bag of wheat down to the pantry.
Eurydice was still there. I didn’t say anything.
I just put the wheat away and turned to leave.
Eurydice stopped me. “Y—y—you overheard?”
I nodded.
“I d—d—didn’t m—mean to hurt him.”
“I know.”
“I—I just ha—haven’t liked the w—way he has continued to—to touch me when h—he must kn—kn—know I d—don’t like it.” She continued to look at me for support.
“It’s all right, Eurydice. You did the right thing. But don’t be surprised if he asks again.”
Looking very distressed, she nodded.
CHAPTER 82
Archimedes had withdrawn into the deepest recesses of his mind. He spent almost all of his time at his abacus perfecting a method of calculating the area of irregular shapes by breaking them down into many small regular shapes. He wrote scores of unsent letters to his friends about this work. Whenever I got caught up with my copying, I would go to the north window and stare down at the drawbridge, hoping that I would spot Moira on her way to see me. She had done me a great favor. I thought about her day and night.
A few days before the Festival of Artemis, Epicydes summoned Archimedes to the palace. Two guards came to get him, and despite Archimedes’ request, I was left behind. I finished the last letter in my stack shortly after he left and soon found myself at the window, looking down on the gatehouse across the moat. The angle wasn’t good, but I could see the two guards who manned the drawbridge.
As I was watching, they both became alert and glanced at each other. A young woman approached them. I held my breath. The distance was too great to see in any detail, but from the color and simple style of her chiton, I knew it had to be Moira. The woman and the guards exchanged a few words, then the three of them moved back into the shadows beside the entryway. Some time passed. I grew concerned that they had caught Moira at her game.
I retrieved the ivory box from Archimedes’ workbench and took out the crystal lens and the best glass bead. I stood at the window and held the crystal at arm’s length and the bead to my eye. It was hard to bring an image to focus, but I had learned to be patient. I found the shadows. With the lenses I could see into them. Focus came slowly. It was Moira. She stood in front of the two guards. Her back was bare. The top of her chiton was off her shoulders and down around her waist. The guards’ hands were reaching out to her. Both of them were touching her and laughing as if it were a great joke. I abruptly lowered the lenses and walked away from the window, my stomach in a knot. That was how she had gotten in. She had let those men touch her. I quickly put away the lenses wishing I had never seen them.
That was the kind of girl she was, I thought—lots of fun, but a flirt, too familiar with men. All her dancing and skipping around was a tease. When I thought of the little kisses she had given me and the familiarity she had allowed those men, I got so angry I began to cry.
Then I realized she would be climbing the tower stairs at any moment. I wondered what thrills she might offer the tower sentry.
I dried my eyes on the sleeve of my tunic and tried to gather myself. I went out to the landing to meet her. After a moment, I heard her light footsteps on the staircase. I ran back into the workshop to hide. After what I’d just seen I couldn’t face her. I ducked behind the workbench, but couldn’t make myself stay there. I went back to the landing. She was nearly there. I retreated again to the workshop.
Then she was standing in the doorway. I stared back at her from the far side of the room. She grinned at me like she always did, full of mischief and allure. I stood my ground, unsmiling. She skipped into the room, right up to me, and stuck her face up close to mine, turning her head this way and that, trying to break my rigid glare. Finally she stood back, hands on her hips. “What’s the matter, Timon? Aren’t you glad to see me?”
“I don’t know.” My voice gave way with emotion as I said the words.
She gave me a quizzical look. “What is it?”
I bit my lip. I wanted to yell at her. I found myself staring at her chest. I had never really thought about her breasts before. They weren’t just little buds anymore. I imagined them bare. I wanted to see them. I was so confused I couldn’t speak.
“Timon, stop it. Tell me what this is or I will leave.”
“Leave,” I said.
This surprised her.
“Leave,” I said angrily, “Or lower your chiton.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You let those men at the gate feel you all over. I saw it.”
Her face went blank. She shook her head from side to side. “No you didn’t.”
“But I did! I saw it all.”
She looked out the window, down at the gate to the island. “How could you know such a thing?”
“What does it matter? I want the same.” I reached for her breasts aggressively.
“Stop, Timon.” She pushed my hands aside and backed away. “You don’t understand.”
“No, I don’t. Why those men and not me?” I turned away, confused and hurt.
Neither one of us moved for quite some time. Finally Moira came halfway toward me. “Timon, I let those men touch me because it allowed me to see you. That’s all.”
I stared out the window at the sea.
“Timon, please, listen to me. Those were only hands on my body. I have learned that there are times when giving a man his pleasure might save your life. It’s really nothing but a touch.”
I wasn’t sure what she was telling me. I turned to face her.
Her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t know all your experiences as a slave, Timon. Maybe some of them were very bad and you will never want to talk about them.” She looked down at the floor. “I spent several weeks in the custody of soldiers. When I was a child and my mother was still alive. The men played games with me they shouldn’t have.”
She came up close to me. “If touching me is all that you want,” she said angrily, “then go ahead!” She lowered her chiton so that her breasts were bare.
I turned my head away. This wasn’t what I really wanted. I wanted not to have seen what I had seen.
Moira lifted her dress back on to her shoulders. “When you forged that letter to visit me—which I thought was so wonderful—didn’t you go against the voice of your conscience?”
Reluctantly, I nodded.
“Was that any different than what I did?”
I lowered my eyes.
“Will you hold me?” she asked.
I reached out for her and hugged her tighter than I had ever hugged anyone. And she hugged me back, as if she would never let go.
We didn’t talk much during the rest of her stay. We stood side-by-side at the window, holding hands and staring out at the sea. I don’t know how much time passed, but all of a sudden I became aware of footsteps on the tower stairs, slow and purposeful.
“My master is coming! Quick Moira, hide behind the curtains near the entry like before.” I hurried her across the room and grabbed a broom. I could hear Archimedes on the landing below. I lifted the curtain, and she ducked behind. “My master has poor eyesight. When he enters the room, just slip out the door behind him.”
Moira pushed her head out past the edge of the curtain before I could walk away. “I wanted to remind you that the Festival of Artemis is coming. The entire city will be open for three days. Even Achradina and the island. Meet me at nightfall the first day of celebration—at the entry to the tunnels.”
She touched two fingers to her lips and touched my cheek.
Archimedes teetered onto the landing. Moira ducked behind the curtain, and I began sweeping the floor—something I rarely did. As usual, he made no acknowledgement of me or why I might be sweeping, and wandered over to his desk. Moira peeked out from the curtains. I motioned for her to go. She waved good-bye, then tiptoed out to the landing and disappeared.
All through the preparation of dinner that evening I couldn’t get the image of Moira’s bare breasts out of my mind. Until that moment in the tower, I couldn’t have imagined anything
better than her kiss on my lips. But seeing her being touched, and then seeing her breasts had caused a fundamental change in me. I was overcome with the desire to touch her body. I wanted to know her smell.
Hektor, of course, could see it in me. All night he watched me. When our eyes met, he would wink or nod. With Hektor this kind of familiarity invariably led to questions about my sexual experience and one-on-one educational sessions about women. After watching him with Eurydice, I wasn’t so sure he knew anything about women beyond his own lust. And still, on this evening, I did want to talk to him.
As often happened, the kitchen clean-up ended with Hektor and an amphora of wine. Eurydice and Lavinia always left as soon as work was over, and Agathe and I didn’t linger long after that. But on this evening, I hung back. I even ventured down into the pantry where Hektor would be putting the finishing touches on his day’s drunk.
Only one dim oil lamp was burning in the shadowy chamber. Hektor sat beneath it with his cup, lost to the world. When he saw me edge off the last stair into the room, a huge smile expanded beneath his bloodshot eyes. He wiped his hand across his face. “Have a drink with me, Timon.” He pointed to the amphora on the floor.
I filled a cup and sat down on a bag of wheat opposite him. He lifted his glass. I returned the gesture.
Without any prompting, Hektor began to talk about the very thing I wanted to ask him about. “The Festival of Artemis is coming up,” he said, nodding his head with a special insight. “I’ve heard that Epicydes has obtained a large quantity of wine. Because times have been so hard, he plans to give it freely to the populace to help them celebrate.”
“When does it begin?” I already knew, but wanted to encourage him.
“At sunset four days from now.” He took a sip from his cup. “I’m not sure if we’ve really celebrated Artemis since you’ve been here—what with the king’s death, and then the assassination and the blockade. This one,” he nodded for emphasis, “will be wild.”
“I remember the festival in Croton. Aren’t slaves free for the duration?”
The Siege of Syracuse Page 32