Hieron nodded thoughtfully and took a sip of water. 'Probably no use,' he said. 'But one never knows. Keep an eye on him.'
'Yes, sir,' said Agathon. He watched his master for a moment, then said, 'And you, sir? What did the guests think about the war?'
Hieron stretched and sat up. 'We did not discuss it.'
Agathon raised his eyebrows. 'That must have been difficult.'
Hieron grinned. 'Not too much so. Archimedes discussed ideal mechanics from the eggs through to the turbot. After that the other guests were perfectly happy to talk about anything nonmechanical. It needed very little steering.'
Agathon cleared his throat nervously. 'Sir…' He stopped.
'What?' asked Hieron.
When Agathon did not answer, the king leaned forward smiling and said, 'Do you want to talk about the war, Aristion?'
It was an old nickname- the diminutive of 'best' for Agathon's proper name, which meant 'good.' The slave plucked courage from it, met his master's eyes, and said, 'What's going to happen, sir?'
Hieron sighed. 'Whatever is fated, my friend. But what I hope for is that once the Romans have blunted their teeth on our defenses they'll offer me better terms than they offered at Messana.'
Agathon sat silent for a long moment. It was stark hope, and severely limited. 'There's no hope from the alliance, then,' he said at last. 'No hope of victory.'
'There is always hope,' replied Hieron evenly, 'but I don't expect anything, no. Carthage has not made terms with Rome and has not moved openly against us, and as long as that's true I will continue to speak in public as though she were our steadfast ally. But the Carthaginians had a fleet which was supposed to be guarding the straits, and it notably failed to stop the Romans from crossing to Sicily. And while we were besieging Messana, the Romans negotiated with me and with the Carthaginians- separately. When I suggested to my allied commander that I send someone to observe his negotiations and he send someone to observe mine, he turned me down. And when the Romans attacked us, the Carthaginians did nothing. The enemy had two legions, Agathon- ten thousand of the fiercest fighters in the world. They quick-marched out of the city and attacked our siege works. We threw them off and chased them halfway back to the walls. If the Carthaginians had attacked the Romans in the flank as they retreated, it would have been a real victory. But they did nothing- nothing! Drew up their troops to defend their own camp, and stood watching. Oh, afterward Hanno sent a messenger congratulating me on my victory and explaining that he had not had time to arrange his forces, but it was perfectly clear from that battle how Hanno intends to fight this war. He hopes to use us to weaken the Romans and the Romans to break us, and to claim Sicily for Carthage when all is done. So I disengaged under cover of darkness and came home- Don't repeat any of this, Agathon, my dear. I will call Carthage my ally as long as there is any chance of her remaining so. And there may be something to be done at Carthage. There are always factions: I have some friends there and Hanno has some enemies.'
'What terms did the Romans offer at Messana?' asked Agathon bleakly. They both knew that without Carthaginian help, the best Syracuse could hope for was survival.
'The same that they offer their Italian 'allies,' ' replied Hieron dismissively. 'We accept a garrison and send troops to aid them in their war. Oh, and pay five hundred talents of silver, to compensate the Romans for their trouble and expense in making war upon us. Highly unpleasant man, Appius Claudius.' He took another sip of water. 'Any comments?'
Agathon sighed unhappily and rubbed his nose. 'They're saying in the city that the Carthaginians have betrayed us.'
Hieron gave a rueful snort. 'Didn't take them long to work it out! They're not panicking though, I hope?'
'No, sir. They've seen you behaving as though there's nothing to worry about, and they still hope. I suppose you're right not to confirm their fears.'
'I'm so glad you approve! Shall I tell you what my hopes for this city's survival rest upon?'
Agathon nodded silently. Hieron looked down into his half-empty cup of water and said softly, 'Walls, Agathon. Walls and catapults. The Romans are almost unbeatable on an open field, but they don't have much experience in siege work. Let them lay siege to Syracuse and die before our walls. Let them understand how much it will cost them if they want to break us. Then let them give us some terms we can accept.' He emptied the cup.
'So that's why you're so interested in Archimedes son of Phidias.'
'I'd be interested in him under any circumstances,' said Hieron, getting to his feet and setting the cup down. 'If I weren't interested in having the best engineers available, I wouldn't deserve to be king. But I admit, at the moment it cheers me just to see the fellow. The Romans aren't used to big catapults, and even a one-talenter will frighten them- as much as they can be frightened by anything in war, which I suppose isn't much.' He yawned, stretching, and added lightly, 'He plays the flute well, too.'
8
Phidias' illness had taken a turn for the worse again. He slept most of the time, and it was hard to rouse him; when he did wake, he was often confused and could not understand where he was or what was wanted of him. To Archimedes' grief, he did not seem to appreciate even that the catapult had passed its trial and that his son was in a position to provide for the family. Hieron's personal physician had indeed come to visit him, but apart from leaving a drug which Phidias could take if he was in any pain, had done nothing the family's own doctor hadn't done already. 'There is no hope of a cure,' he had said.
Archimedes could not stop himself from hoping anyway. Every morning and evening he would go into the sickroom to see his father. He would try to start a conversation, and when that failed he would simply sit, doing calculations or playing music while Phidias slept.
On the morning two days after the dinner party, the day of the demonstration, he went into the sickroom as usual and found his father asleep. He sat down on the couch, took the skeletal hand in his own, and brushed back the thin white hair. 'Papa?' he said. Phidias woke and smiled up at him in silence.
'I'm going down to the docks now,' he told his father. 'I'm doing a demonstration of mechanics for the king.'
The brittle hand clenched suddenly on his own. 'Don't go away!' Phidias begged.
'It's only for an hour or two,' said Archimedes.
'Don't go away to Alexandria, please, Medion!'
'Papa! I'm not, I won't. I'm just doing a demonstration at the docks. I'll come home and check on you afterward.'
'Don't go away again, please!' whispered Phidias, as though he hadn't heard; then, more softly still, 'Look after your mother and sister for me.'
'I will, Papa,' Archimedes said. 'I promise.'
He stayed where he was for a few more minutes, and eventually the tight grip on his hand relaxed, and his father went back to sleep. He stood up very gently so as not to wake him, then stood looking down at the yellow face soberly. Was it imagination, or was there a translucent quality to the skin, a gasp to the shallow breath, which had not been there before?
Arata came in. Archimedes had invited her to come watch the demonstration, and she had put on her best gown preparatory to going, but at the sight of her husband's face she pulled her chair out from the wall and sat down to keep watch over him. 'I don't want to leave him this morning,' she told her son. 'You take Philyra.'
Archimedes did not protest. He said only, 'Send Chrestos to fetch me if… if he asks for me, or if anything happens. I don't care about the king: I'll come.'
Arata nodded, and Archimedes bent to kiss her forehead, then went out into the courtyard.
Philyra was already waiting, bright-eyed and impatient in her best tunic and cloak. Archimedes thought she needn't have bothered with the tunic, since it was invisible apart from the border around the hem: Philyra was respectably swathed in cream-colored wool from head to foot, and her face was already pink with the heat- unless
