thinking of marrying your charming sister to an Alexandrian, and I thought I'd better put in my own offer before it's too late.'
Archimedes choked on his mouthful of tunny-fish and had to be pounded on the back and fetched a cup of water. By the time he'd recovered his breath, the captain was telling him seriously that it was his duty to remain in Syracuse. 'I would not presume to dictate to you who your sister should marry, of course,' Dionysios went on. 'But as a loyal citizen, I must urge you not to leave our lovely city. The king-'
'Who told you I was thinking of marrying my sister to an Alexandrian?' interrupted Archimedes.
Dionysios was taken aback. 'I believe your slave said as much to one of my men,' he admitted. 'Isn't it true?'
'There was never any Alexandrian,' said Archimedes doubtfully. 'My friend Conon and I used to talk about becoming brothers-in-law. But he's a Samian. And we never… that is, I never said anything about it at home. Oh, by the gods, don't spread it around! I'm already in trouble with my sister because of some other things I didn't tell her about, and if she thinks I was trying to marry her to a foreigner without consulting her, she'll brain me with a kithara. Are you really saying you want to marry her?'
It seemed that Dionysios really was. He began listing his qualifications: his rank, his prospects, his property. He apologized for his lack of fine breeding: he had been born poor and worked his way up through the ranks, and he had not thought of marrying until his most recent promotion gave him the standing to make a good match. But he had acquired some land to the south and a third share in a merchant ship, and he had every hope that after the war he would do very well. He was well thought of by the king and respected in the army. He had noticed Philyra at Archimedes' house and again at the demonstration, and he thought her quite charming. He gathered, too, that she was musical: he had always loved music, and wanted to marry a girl who could share his enthusiasm. Naturally, if he was so fortunate as to acquire her, he would treat her with all the respect that was due to the sister of a man like Archimedes.
Archimedes listened in astonishment. It seemed incredible that Philyra should marry, and that he should be the one who decided whom. He supposed that she was of marriageable age, and that he was the head of the household- but still it seemed incredible. Daydreams with his friend Conon had not prepared him for this. And Dionysios! He quite liked the man- good company, intelligent, capable; a fine voice; he was sure that what the fellow was saying about his prospects was quite true. But did he want such a man for a brother? And suppose he got it wrong, and Dionysios made Philyra miserable? How could he possibly make such a decision?
'I can't give you an answer right now,' he said, when the captain had ground to a halt and sat blinking at him anxiously. 'As you said, the house is in mourning. It would be quite wrong for my sister marry with her hair still short from the funeral.'
'Of course,' said Dionysios hastily. 'But- afterward?'
'I need to think about it.' He sat still for a moment, trying to imagine how his mother and sister would react to this news. Arata would consider the captain of the Ortygia garrison a catch, though she'd want to meet him before making up her mind whether to say yes. Philyra would certainly be excited. Not at all eager to leave home, he thought, but thrilled that such a man had asked for her- and assessing. She would want to know more about Dionysios. He met the captain's anxious gaze and declared suddenly, 'I don't know what you think about women, but I've always felt they're just as capable as men, at least in everyday matters. My sister's a very sensible girl. She and my mother are really much better at arranging practical matters than I am, so I'm going to consult them before I answer anything. I don't know what you think of that.' He held Dionysios' eyes. Many men would find it deplorable that he allowed his women to dictate his decisions. He was aware that his admission had just confronted Dionysios with a test, and wondered what the other man would have to say to pass.
Dionysios, capable soldier and experienced officer, went red. 'I thought your sister was probably that sort when I saw her at the demonstration,' he muttered. 'She looked so confident and happy. Tell her and your mother that… I send my respectful greetings.'
Archimedes nodded. He realized that if Dionysios had in any way appeared to slight Philyra's opinion, he would have opposed the marriage even if Philyra herself had wanted it, but that now he would dwell on the captain's good points when he informed his sister of the offer. Dionysios was willing to listen to Philyra, and he liked her confident and happy: he passed.
'You're not set on this Alexandrian, or Samian or whatever he is, though?' asked the captain hopefully.
Archimedes shook his head. 'Philyra's already said she doesn't want to leave Syracuse.'
Wistfully, though, he pictured to himself the beaming moon face of Conon of Samos. In Alexandria he and Conon had spent hours together in cheap taverns, drawing calculations on the table or the walls; they had laughed over other people's mathematical mistakes, and told each other jokes which nobody else had been able to understand. Each had been the first person the other came to with a new discovery, and neither had ever been disappointed of the expected enthusiastic reception. Their differences had merely fueled their friendship. Conon was short and plump; he liked food and drink and dancing, but when it came to music, he always sang out of key. He was rich, and came from a distinguished family, so he had lent his friend money, slipping it into his purse unasked and often unnoticed; Archimedes had no idea how much it had come to in the end. He in turn had made Conon a dioptra, an astronomical sighting instrument, which Conon had thereafter treasured above every other possession. Conon was no good at making things; his pudgy hands were clumsy, though his mind skipped among the stars as nimbly as a lizard.
Conon's family would never have permitted him to marry Philyra, even if Philyra had been willing. He and Conon loved each other like brothers anyway- best to leave it at that.
Dionysios grinned. 'Good luck to your loyal sister! I hope you're not planning to leave either.'
Archimedes muttered something unintelligible, and concentrated on his food.
'Pardon?' said the captain, polite but relentless. 'I didn't hear that.'
Archimedes abandoned the food. 'Look,' he said, 'how I can I make promises about what I'll do three or five years from now? We may all be dead by then! I'm not planning to leave while I'm needed to make catapults, so why can't everyone leave it at that?'
But Dionysios was no more able than Philyra to leave it at that. He was very cautious of offending a man he wanted as a brother-in-law, but 'as a loyal citizen' he felt it his duty to persuade Archimedes to stay in Syracuse, and his tactful attempts to do this lasted the rest of the meal. Archimedes was heartily sick of him by the time the waiter came in to clear the dishes.
When the dishes had been cleared away, the Arethusa's flute girls were once more ushered in. Dionysios, however, immediately detached the pretty young thing who fastened herself to him. 'I'm on duty tomorrow morning,' he said gently, though a glance at Archimedes indicated that he was also embarrassed to settle with a whore in front of a man whose sister he had just offered to marry. 'But perhaps my friend…?' His glance became interrogative.
Archimedes suddenly wanted very much to get drunk and go to bed with the flute girl- to escape from the questions, to forget Delia, to drown and befuddle the faultless precision of his own too-active mind. 'Yes!' he said, stretching out a hand to the girl.
She came at once and draped herself over his knee. 'You're Archimedes, aren't you?' she asked throatily, stroking his cheek. 'The one they call the archimechanic?'
'Don't call me that!' he told her despairingly. She was holding a set of flutes, and he took them away from her before she could start playing. 'Here! I'll show you something much more worth-while than catapults.'
At the house near the lion fountain Marcus spent the earlier part of the evening nervous. He suspected the reason for Dionysios' invitation, and it sickened him. His attempt at discouragement seemed only to have spurred the captain to immediate action. He wondered how Archimedes would respond.
But after supper Arata and Philyra sat in the courtyard playing music in the cool dusk, and the sweet clear ripple of the strings soothed him. The desperation that had crushed him for the past three days lifted a little. There had been no repercussions from his visit to the quarry. The Roman army was still camped before the north gate, and his brother and his brother's friend were probably planning their escape, but life in the household went on much as it had always done. He was aware of the family quarrel, but aware too of its essential shallowness, the way it did not even touch the deep ties of affection that bound the family together. As he sat silent in the courtyard listening to the music, the house seemed a richer and more tranquil place to live than it ever had before.
But everything was changing. The family was growing wealthy and important; Philyra would marry and move
