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.'
'It was nothing like that!' said Delia indignantly. 'Nothing at all!'
She picked up the auloi- all four of them- and began wiping them off.
She had known for many years that she would eventually marry for her brother's political advantage, cementing some alliance with a great Sicilian nobleman or a foreign kingdom. She did not look forward to it, but she'd always accepted it, and accepted too the necessary corollary, that she must never interfere with that destiny by falling in love. She owed her brother that, for all he had done for her.
Delia did not remember her mother, and her father had died when she was five. For a year after his death, she had lived with her father's sister and her husband, and that year was the worst of her life. She was her father's only legitimate child, and heiress to his estates. Her uncle had managed those estates, and hoped that she would die so that he could gain control of them forever. She had not understood that at the time, of course. She had known only that there was something wrong with her, that he and his wife hated her, that she was a wicked girl who could do nothing right, that she was clumsy and stupid and that even the slaves hated having to attend her. She had swung between cringing attempts to win approval and outbursts of passionate resentment: the former had been ignored and the latter savagely punished.
Then, one afternoon, she had been summoned into the dining room and presented to her half brother, Hieron.
She had been aware of his existence, though mention of him in the household had always been conducted in disapproving whispers- 'the bastard who's done so well in the army,' 'the bastard who's in joint command of the mutiny,' 'the bastard who's married Leptines' daughter and made himself tyrant!' But she had never met him before, and did not know what to say to him. Her aunt had scolded her for her silence, and Hieron had shaken his head.
The next day, her outraged aunt and uncle informed her that her half brother had insisted that she live in his household in future. She had gone to the mansion in terror, certain that she had displeased a new master- and found herself welcomed warmly, and swept effortlessly into happiness. For the first few years she had tried to earn her brother's approval by being good, but eventually she understood that she didn't have to earn anything. Hieron gave, generously, with a tolerant good humor that left her free to be herself.
Or he had done. The one advantage she had expected to give him he had not used, and she had been growing increasingly dissatisfied with her life. In a world where girls were often married at fourteen, she was eighteen and still a virgin. Girls who'd shared dancing and music lessons with her were now mothers, but she still remained in her brother's house with nothing to do. Her brother was reluctant to marry her to a foreigner- the Roman and Carthaginian aristocracies practically never married outside their own circles, and there was little profit to be gained by attaching her to a minor princeling of some great Greek royal house. But when it came to the nobility of Syracuse, the political advantages offered by her wedding had never been advantageous enough.
Still, she did not question her fate now, either: if she could win Hieron any political advantage, she was glad of it. She merely told herself angrily that playing the flute with a man didn't mean you were going to fall in love with him.
Archimedes was still drooping when he reached the street, but more from the heat than from any disappointment. Delia had liked his present, and he had been able to play a duet with her. The music had been exhilarating. If they could play together regularly, and learn each other's styles, they could do something really interesting!
Then he tried to imagine how a catapult maker would manage to play regular duets with the sister of a king, and drooped in earnest. He loosened his cloak irritably. It was too hot to wear wool.
When he turned into the main road, he saw the regent Leptines, marching smartly away down the thoroughfare in the middle of a troop of a dozen soldiers. He grabbed the edge of his cloak to stop it from falling off and ran after them. When the guards at the rear of the party noticed him flapping after them, they halted, and half a dozen spears were leveled at him. He stopped short, panting.
Leptines had glanced around to see what the matter was; he noticed Archimedes and gestured for the soldiers to shoulder their weapons again. 'What do you want?' he asked irritably.
'Um,' said Archimedes. 'It's about the one-talent stone-hurler, lord. I've just been to your house to tell you that it's ready, but you weren't there. Where do you want us to put it?'
'At least something in this god-hated city is ready!' exclaimed Leptines. 'Does it work?'
'Yes,' said Archimedes, without thinking.
'Then put it in the Hexapylon,' said the regent.
There were catapults of one size or another all the way along the fifteen miles of Syracuse's city wall, but the largest machines were concentrated in the batteries of the great forts. The Hexapylon was the fort which guarded the gate on the main road north. It was the first defense against any army coming from the north and Messana. Archimedes licked his lips. 'Yes, lord. And the trials for it?'
Leptines had either forgotten the arrangement he'd made with Archimedes or forgotten everything about catapults. 'You said it works!' he cried indignantly.
'Uh, sir, I'm sure it does!' Archimedes protested. 'But we can't fire it in the workshop, so we need trials before it's proven and, uh, I'm paid.'
Several of the soldiers grinned; one of them, Archimedes noticed, was Straton. He had not recognized the man before, among so many others identically armored and helmeted.
Leptines frowned a minute, then gave a sudden snort of amusement. 'Well, put it in the Hexapylon,' he said. 'And when you have it set up there, send word, and I'll send someone to observe. If it does work, start building another immediately.'
'Yes, sir!' said Archimedes.
'Lord!' said Straton smartly. 'Shall I arrange transport for the catapult, sir?'
'Do that!' said the regent. He gestured to his guard, and he and they moved off down the street, leaving Straton with Archimedes.
'Thank you,' said Archimedes gratefully. 'I didn't know who to talk to about moving it. We'll need a big wagon.'
Straton grinned. 'Thank you!' he replied. 'I'm glad to stop running up and down. We've been from the arsenal to the naval docks and back twice this morning.' He tipped his helmet back and put his spear across his shoulders. 'Besides, I want to have a look at this one-talenter.'
They started along the main street toward the workshop, the opposite direction to Leptines. After a minute, Archimedes said uncertainly, 'At the king's house they said that we had won a victory.'
Straton nodded. 'That's the news.'
'I don't understand, then,' Archimedes said. 'Why is the king lifting the siege and coming home?'
Straton moved his shoulders uncomfortably under his armor. ' 'The fox has many tricks,' ' he said.
' 'The hedgehog only one- but it's a good one,' ' said Archimedes, finishing the proverb, then went on, 'Yes, but why come back to the city and play hedgehog when you've the strength to be a fox and snap up rats? I don't understand. Was it a victory?'
Straton shrugged again. 'They say it was. It wasn't a defeat, anyway. But I know one thing: King Hieron's a clever fox, and if he thinks it's time to raise the siege and come home, he's got a good reason for it.'
They walked on for a little while in silence. The question Archimedes really wanted to ask was 'Are the Romans going to follow King Hieron back here to Syracuse and besiege us in turn?' But he did not quite dare. He could remember the last time Syracuse had been besieged; he had been not quite nine years old. There had been a blockade, and food had grown short. The family had shared one loaf of bread a day among four adults and four children, and eaten rats when they could get them, weeds and beetles when they couldn't. Marcus' predecessor had fallen ill and died; if there had been more food, he would probably have lived. Once Archimedes had gone up to the city walls with his father, and they had measured shadows to calculate the distance to the besieging army they
