The Siege of Syracuse

by Dan Armstrong

  I saw Corax. He was alone, sitting against a building, probably homeless. He didn’t see me. And I didn’t find Moira.

  As a last resort, I decided to go to the garden in Neapolis. Even if she wasn’t there, I would spend some time within the laurel bushes as a way of saying my own solitary good-bye.

  I walked south to the stone stairway and descended into Neapolis. Only a few people were at the park when I entered. I approached the thicket slowly, looking around to see if anyone was watching.

  Just as I got down on my knees to crawl in, I heard muffled moans and sighs of pleasure coming from within the thicket. Someone was already there. I quickly stood and backed away. A moment later I saw a Roman soldier crawl out of the thicket just where I would have gone in. I pretended to be observing a bed of flowers, but I saw him buckle his girdle, then call out, “Something for your time,” before flipping a coin into the bushes.

  No sooner had he walked away than a young woman crawled out of the thicket. I knew who it was immediately. She reached beneath her chiton and used a small rag to wipe between her legs. She straightened her clothing, then saw me standing there. I would have run if my legs had allowed it. Moira stuck the filthy handkerchief into her chiton before approaching me.

  “It’s been a long time, Timon,” she said. “I thought you might have left already.” Her tone was slack and indifferent.

  “I leave tomorrow,” I muttered, unable to look at her for more than an instant. There were leaves in her hair and soiled spots on her chiton. “I wish it had been yesterday.”

  “It’s not what you think, Timon,” she said suddenly, daring to hint of remorse.

  “You mean what I thought we had between us?” I said, my anger rising.

  “Timon, we were friends.”

  “And what was that soldier?”

  She didn’t have an answer.

  “I saw it,” I said with increasing volume. “I saw him throw money at you.”

  “I did that because I had to!” she snapped back at me.

  “It didn’t sound that way to me!”

  “I need the money,” she shouted, just as angry as I was.

  I glared at her and she glared at me.

  “Our farm is a disaster, Timon. My grandfather is dying. I have no other way to pay for our room.”

  I squeezed my eyes shut, sad and confused. “I have some money now. I could have given you what you needed.”

  Moira began to cry. She reached out to embrace me. I wouldn’t accept her hug. She was dirty. She was a prostitute. I wanted nothing to do with her.

  “Please, Timon, forgive me,” she pleaded, finally exposing some real feeling for me. “Can’t you understand? It’s no different than your joining the Roman army.”

  I grabbed her hand and pulled her back toward the laurel bushes.

  “Timon? What? What?”

  I dragged her into the thicket, pushed her onto her back, and threw back her tunic. I wanted to hurt her. I wanted to take all my confused pain and thrust it into her. But there was no arousal in me. I could not fulfill my rage. I burst into tears, falling down beside her, stroking her cheek.

  “I loved you, Moira,” I confessed in deep frustration. “But I’m not sure what I feel any more.”

  Moira pushed her tunic down to cover herself. She looked up at me with tears on her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Timon, but I did have feelings for you—before the war.”

  “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters,” I lied. “I leave tomorrow. I’ll never be back.” I stood, and like the soldier, pushed my way out of the shrubbery. As I strode out of the garden, Moira came running up from behind to walk beside me.

  We climbed the stairs to the top of the plateau before stopping to look at each other again. After a moment of silence, we gazed out at what remained of one of the wealthiest cities in the world, at the battle-ravaged farmland, and at the ruins of the Temple of Zeus. Our lives were a mirror of what we saw.

  “Good-bye,” I said with great pain.

  “Will you miss me, Timon?” she asked, her eyes welling with tears.

  “I don’t know,” was all I could say.

  That afternoon killed the boy in me. I was glad that I was leaving the next day.

  CHAPTER 101

  We shipped out at the end of the summer. We passed through the channel at Messana on the fourth day of the voyage. Forty-nine quinqueremes, like the one I was on, and a hundred transports, all filled with booty, trailed behind us as far as I could see. Mount Etna stood off to the west, silent, snow-capped, majestic. All of Italy was to the east. I was going to Rome with a new life and the hope of somehow locating my mother. Three tumultuous years in Syracuse were left behind. I stared out at the open sea and thought about Moira. I missed her. I hated her. I wanted her. I had to leave her behind.

  As the sun set and the sky bled from orange to purple, Marcus came up alongside me at the bow of the huge Roman warship. The cadence of the oarsmen pounded out a backbeat to the heave of the sea. He asked me if I was excited to go to Rome. I couldn’t deny it, I was, but I didn’t say why. I asked him what I should expect. He laughed, then became serious. “A lot of politics,” he said.

  “Around the war?’

  “Oh, yes. Everyone will be talking about Hannibal.”

  “How is that political? Isn’t it obvious that he must be defeated?”

  Marcus frowned. “The egos of generals are involved.”

  “Your father’s?”

  “Some say so.” He looked down at the water, hissing and curling as the prow cut through the sea, then out to the west where the sun had been on the horizon. He spoke to the distance. “Since the second year of the war, our senate has been torn between two philosophies. Perhaps the two most respected men in Rome, Quintus Fabius and my father, have been on opposite sides of the debate.

  Marcus faced me. “Through six years of Fabius’ leadership, our strategy has been based on defensive tactics. Our losses on the battlefield have been minimized. Hannibal still ravages the countryside, but he has not been able to breach the walls of Rome. To some, it seems that Hannibal is weakening, and that Fabius’ approach is working.”

  “And your father grows anxious?”

  Marcus nodded. “My father is a legendary figure to the citizens of Rome. He won a battle single-handedly ten years ago. It won him more glory than any soldier of our time, but has equally cursed his life.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Between our first war with Carthage and this war with Hannibal, two barbarian tribes from the north, the Insubrians and the Gaestae, united in an attack against our outposts in the Po River valley. It was during my father’s first consulship. Putting down this insurrection represented his first important command. At the time it was considered just as critical to the safety of Rome as what we see today with Hannibal.

  “A huge, fair-haired Gaestae king by the name of Britomartus led the rampage. No town or settlement between Clastidium and Placentia was safe from his reign of terror.

  “My father met with his co-consul Gnaeus Cornelius in the city of Acerrae where two legions were stationed. They decided that my father should set off immediately for Clastidium with six hundred lightly armed foot soldiers and a thousand cavalry. Cornelius would follow at a slower pace with the remainder of the troops. Marching night and day, my father raced to Clastidium, hoping his arrival would allay the locals’ fears. Instead he discovered Britomartus and ten thousand barbarian warriors camped outside the city.

  “Britomartus saw how small the Roman force was and without the slightest preparation ordered his men to attack. He was so certain of his advantage that he led the advance of the cavalry himself.

  “My father knew his men were badly outnumbered and tired from days of marching, but he quickly decided that retreating from the barbarians’ charge would be worse than standing against them. He ordered his men into battle formation. Reining his horse from one end of the line to the other, he drew the wings of his troops out as far as p
ossible so that they could not be surrounded. Then he galloped to the center of the line. As he turned his horse to lead the charge, the beast was startled by the war cries of the onrushing barbarians and reared up on its hind legs. Fearful that this mishap might break the will of his men, my father managed to turn the horse entirely around in a circle. At the same time, he made a gesture to the sun with his open hand and shouted out a vow to Jupiter.

  “Britomartus didn’t miss my father’s demonstration and directed his giant warhorse straight toward him. My father rode well ahead of his men, racing to meet the barbarian head-on. My father’s lance struck Britomartus’ breastplate, knocking him to the ground. He then leapt from his horse and slew the giant man with three plunges of his sword. With a foot on the chest of the dead barbarian king, he lifted his gladius to the sun. This stunning display sent the barbarians retreating in confusion, and sealed an unparalleled Roman victory of few against many.”

  “One general killing another in battle. What a remarkable story.”

  Marcus nodded. “It has happened only twice before in all of Roman history. But never with so much excitement and glory. When my father rode through the gates of Rome holding out an oak branch with Britomartus’ armor and helmet arranged on it as if it were the man himself, the city fell in love with him.”

  “But how could this turn against your father?”

  Marcus returned a grim smile. “In two ways, Timon. His success aroused envy among lesser men. To this day, he has enemies in the Senate and other powerful Roman circles because of his renown and the love the populace has for him.”

  “And the second?”

  “The sense of destiny that it instilled in my father. You can be sure that once we return to Rome, he will request a command in Italy and consent to go after Hannibal. If you want to know where we are headed from here, it’s a head-on collision with the Carthaginian field marshal. My father wants to slay a second enemy general with his own hand.”

  Marcus had said this before. I didn’t understand if fully then. This second time it made a stronger impact, but nothing could have prepared me for what was coming. On the top deck of the massive quinquereme, following the west coast of Italy northward as part of a long military flotilla, I felt the world turning. I was sixteen years old, on my way to Rome and more than I could possibly imagine. Moira was but a bittersweet memory.

  Despite all that I had been through, despite all the pain, despite my father’s death and the questions that remained about my mother, I thought myself lucky. When my parents were brutalized and I was sold as a slave, I was given the chance of a lifetime to study with the greatest engineer of all time. When the citadel was breached and Archimedes murdered in front of me, circumstances left me at the mercy of one of Rome’s finest generals. He granted me my freedom and hired me to teach his son what I loved most.

  Twice horrible tragedies had brought me greater opportunity. But even more than all of that, hanging on a cord beneath my tunic was a leather pouch with a crystal lens and a tiny glass bead. They gave me the power to see farther into the distance than anyone ever had before.

  I thought about pulling the pouch from my neck and tossing it into the sea—just to be rid of the responsibility.

  But I didn’t.

  I would take Archimedes’ eyes with me to Rome.

  LIST OF CHARACTERS

  Adeon- slave from Timon’s home in Croton

  Adranodorus- son-in-law of Hiero II, husband of Damarata

  Agathe- cook in the kitchen attached to the tower on Ortygia

  Alexa Aufidius- wife of Laius Aufidius

  Alexander of Macedon- Alexander the Great

  Apollonides- citizen of Syracuse

  Apollonius of Perga- Greek mathematician

  Appius Claudius Pulcher- praetor of Lilybaeum

  Arathia Arathenus- Timon’s mother

  Archimedes- Greek mathematician

  Aristo- noted actor in Syracuse, friend of Adranodorus

  Aristomachus- Croton politician bribed by Carthaginian agents

  Belligenes- Spanish soldier used as agent by Marcellus

  Bomilcar- Admiral in Carthaginian navy

  Cales- son of Lavinia and Orestes

  Callo- boyhood friend of Hieronymus

  Capitolinus- Roman tribune who sexually assaulted Marcus Claudius

  Conon of Samos- Greek mathematician, close friend of Archimedes

  Corax- gang leader in streets of Syracuse

  Damarata- oldest daughter of Hiero II

  Damippus- Spartan diplomat caught escaping from Syracuse

  Dara- daughter of Lavinia and Orestes

  Diocles of Arcadia- Greek mathematician

  Dion- uncle of Dionysius of Syracuse

  Dionysius of Syracuse- past king of Syracuse

  Drako- Cretan slave ship captain

  Epicydes- Carthaginian agent, brother of Hippocrates

  Eratosthenes- curator of library in Alexandria

  Eurydice- young palace slave raped by Hieronymus

  Galatus- husband of Agathe

  Gelo- son of Hiero II

  Gelo- illegitimate son of Hieronymus and Eurydice

  Gnaeus- brother of Latin boy who leapt from slave ship

  Hannibal- Carthaginian nobleman and naval officer

  Hannibal Barca- Carthaginian field marshal

  Hanno- Carthaginian general

  Harmonia- granddaughter of Hiero II

  Hektor- lead cook in the kitchen attached to the tower on Ortygia

  Heraclia- younger daughter of Hiero II

  Hiero II- king of Syracuse for fifty years

  Hieronymus- grandson of Hiero II

  Himilco- Carthaginian general

  Hippocrates- Carthaginian agent, brother of Epicydes

  Laius Aufidius- Syracusan nobleman who purchased Timon as slave

  Lavinia- pastry cook in the kitchen attached to the tower on Ortygia

  Lucretia- slave from Timon’s home in Croton

  Marcus Claudius- son of Marcus Claudius Marcellus

  Marcus Claudius Marcellus- Roman consul

  Moericus- Spanish mercenary who betrayed Ortygia to the Romans

  Moira- Syracusan farm girl, friend of Timon’s

  Muttines- Liby-Phoenician cavalry officer trained by Hannibal Barca

  Nicoledes Leonidas- Timon’s father

  Orestes- husband of Lavinia

  Penelope- young palace slave

  Philiades- physician to Hiero II

  Philip of Macedon- king of Macedon

  Philodemus of Argos- officer in Syracusan militia

  Phocis- son of Lavinia and Orestes

  Polyaenus- member of Syracusan city council

  Polycletius of Cyrene- diplomat acting for King Hieronymus

  Pyrrhus- famous Greek military officer

  Pythian the Thracian Geometer- Greek geometer

  Quinctius Crispinus- Roman co-consul at time of Marcellus’ death

  Quintus Fabius- leading Roman senator

  Sopater- officer in Syracusan militia, member of plot to assassinate King Hieronymus

  Sosis- officer in Syracusan militia, member of plot to assassinate King Hieronymus

  Tacitus Maso- captain of garrison stationed on the island of Ortygia

  Themistos- grandson-in-law of Hiero II, husband of Harmonia

  Theodotus- officer in Syracusan militia, leader of plot to assassinate King Hieronymus

  Thraso- friend of Laius Aufidius, executed for treason

  Timon- Greek slave, narrator of story

  Zenodorus the Astronomer- Greek astronomer

  Zoippos- son-in-law of Hiero II, husband of Heraclia

  GLOSSARY

  as (pl. asses)- bronze Roman coin, four quadrans make one as

  atlatls- device used for throwing a spear

  baldric- belt worn over the shoulder to carry a sword

  buckler- shield

  cella- main room in a Roman temple

  chiton- a Greek woman’s formal atti
re, a dress

  chlaina- a cloak worn by a woman

  cuirass- breastplate of metal or formed leather

  drachma- Greek coin

  ekphora- funeral procession

  gladius (pl. gladii)- double-bladed, short sword of Spanish origin

  goos- funeral hymn, a lament

  greave- a bronze or leather shin guard

  haruspex- priest trained to read entrails or actions of birds

  himation- heavy woolen cloak

  kithara- stringed musical instrument

  konopus- mosquito

  monochord- single-stringed musical instrument

  pilum (pl. pila)- a spear with wooden handle and extended iron tip

  praetor- governor of a Roman province

  quaestor- military accountant, quartermaster

  quinquereme- a warship with five tiers of oars

  sambuca- long-necked, stringed musical instrument

  trireme- a warship with three tiers of oars

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I could not have written this book without the love and support of my wife Judith. Our discussions of the purpose of science and the moral obligations of its application inspired the character of Archimedes.

  My grandfather, L.V. Armstrong, deserves mention as the instigator of this novel. After his death many years ago, I inherited his three volume set of Plutarch’s Lives. During my first reading of Plutarch’s great work, I was captivated by the story of Marcellus, his siege of Syracuse, and the tragic death of Archimedes. I felt then as I do now; the death of Archimedes set the advance of science back some eighteen hundred years. Not until the 1600s and the work of Galileo Galilei and Johannes Kepler would conic sections be applied to mathematical descriptions of the physical world. This is where Archimedes and Greek science left off twenty-two hundred years ago.

  Special thanks to artist Kurt Cyrus for his patience while working with me on the illustrated map of Syracuse and the other drawings contained in the text. All are Kurt’s except for the map of the Central Mediterranean, which I created.

  Thanks is also extended to the contingent of readers who helped me with this novel: Alice, Martha, Old Joe, Kurt, Bill, Tom, Monte, Fast Eddie, Judith, Giles, and Tyler. Double thanks to Bill on this account for some really fine editing.