Zama

by Dan Armstrong

  Up until this point, I had worked nonstop on the map of Africa and had no time for Moira. With Scipio gone and some of the pressure off completion of the map, I decided one morning that I simply had to see her. I went to her farm but was disappointed to find no one there. As far as I knew, she only left the farm to go into the market, so that’s where I went. I stopped at the camp on the way and ran into Troglius. I told him I was looking for a woman I was very fond of and asked him if he wanted to accompany me into the city. He had some free time and agreed to join me.

  We went straight to the market. Uncertain where she might be, I started at one side of the market and worked my way to the other. Halfway through, I spotted Moira at the far end of an aisle, standing in front of a cart of fruit with her two children. I immediately thought of my conversation with Masinissa when I had admitted that I was in love with two women. I knew I would be comparing Moira to Sempronia every time I saw her from now on.

  Troglius followed me down the aisle and stood back when I approached Moira. “How can I help you?” she said as though I was just another customer. Her children stood on either side of her, both with dirty faces and soiled tunics.

  “I’ve been back for two weeks, Moira. I just haven’t had any free time to come see you.”

  “I thought it might be another five years.”

  “Thankfully not,” I replied, feeling her resistance. “I see you have more than figs. I’d like two of your melons and about fifty of the figs.”

  Moira needed sales more than anything else and this elicited a smile. She directed her son to pick out two melons while she counted out fifty figs and dropped them into the sackcloth bag I had brought with me.

  “You’ve never introduced me to your children,” I said when her son, not more than four years old, laid two melons at my feet. “What’s this young man’s name?”

  “That’s Donato,” she said as she accepted my payment for the fruit. She reached over and used the hem of her chiton to wipe his nose. “And this little one,” the girl, perhaps two, reached up to grip her mother’s dress, “is Rosa.”

  “It’s nice to meet you both. I’m Timon.” Rosa slipped behind Moira when I looked at her. Donato was starring at Troglius several feet behind me. “Donato, meet my friend Troglius,” I said turning to Troglius, who was only slightly less shy than Rosa. “He’s a man revered for his strength and courage.”

  Troglius glanced around like he didn’t know who I was talking about.

  “He has a funny head,” said the boy, not sure what to think of the huge misshapen man.

  Moira put her hand over Donato’s mouth and looked up to the sky. “Excuse my son, sir,” she said to Troglius, “he has no manners.”

  Troglius aimed one eye at Moira and the other at Donato. “Funny is a nicer word than many have used.” He turned his split gaze to me with an expression so sad I could feel his confusion and pain.

  I put a hand on his shoulder. “This is as fine a man as I know,” I said to Moira and the children, more for Troglius than for them. “He has saved me more times than I can count.”

  “And in my opinion,” said Moira, still trying to make up for Donato’s comment, “strength of character is what makes a man.”

  Two Roman officers, both centurions, heard her as they walked by. One stopped and sized up Troglius. “Even one as ugly as this?” he said with a cruel grin. Then he appraised Moira and her two street urchin children. “Selling anything besides fruit, sweetie?” He laughed and poked the other centurion in the ribs.

  Moira spit in the man’s face. The soldier grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up close to him. “You little...”

  Before he could get another word out, Troglius yanked the man around by the shoulder and punched him in the jaw. The centurion fell to the ground and lay there motionless. Moira and I backed away stunned. The other centurion drew his gladius and stepped forward. “You’re under arrest, soldier, for striking an officer. You had better hope he’s not dead.”

  Troglius looked around in absolute confusion, then took off running into the crowd.

  The centurion let him go. “He won’t get away with this. I’ll see to it that monster is court-martialed. What’s his name?”

  Moira looked to me.

  Donato answered. “Troglius.”

  The centurion knelt beside his friend, whose eyes fluttered then opened. The centurion and I helped the man to his feet. I was enlisted to assist the officer back to camp. I had no chance to say anything more to Moira. She called to me as we moved away through the crowd. “Let me know what happens.”

  CHAPTER 49

  Word went out immediately from camp that Troglius had been arrested and then escaped. Search parties were sent into the city. Days passed with no sign of Troglius. I had no idea what to do and felt responsible for him He should never have struck the man, but if he hadn’t, I would have. It could just as easily have been me who was arrested.

  Six days after the incident, I went into Syracuse despite needing to work on the map. I remembered showing Troglius the tunnels beneath Syracuse and wondered if he might be hiding underground. I wandered through the market first, on the off chance that I might see Moira, but she wasn’t there.

  I walked from the market to the tunnel entrance at the north end of Via Intermuralis. I removed the stone that covered the opening and peered down into the darkness. There was a ladder. I climbed down some twenty feet to the tunnel floor. All was black except for the diffuse light coming in through gratings in the street. I had explored these tunnels somewhat with Moira, but they were an incredibly extensive network, stretching out beneath the entire northwestern portion of the city. The only way to find a person hiding in these tunnels would be a systematic search carried out by several teams of men with torches. I doubted that would ever happen. I didn’t even know if the Romans were aware these tunnels existed. In frustration I called Troglius’ name as loud as I could. No one answered. I walked in farther and called out again, only to get the same empty response.

  I felt certain that Troglius believed he had killed the centurion. If that had been the case, his punishment would be execution. But the centurion had not died. The punishment would be something less. Somehow I needed to get the message to Troglius that the centurion had survived.

  I stayed beneath the city streets as long as I could. I didn’t dare venture very far without a torch. I shouted Troglius’ name many more times before finally giving up. As far as I knew, he might have left the city entirely to disappear into the Sicilian countryside, but with Troglius it was impossible to guess what he would do. Saddened by the events of the last week, I wandered back to camp to resume work on my map.

  CHAPTER 50

  During this time the events in Locri came to a head. The Carthaginian garrison was concentrated on one side of the city, and the invading Roman cohort was on the other. For over a week the two contingents had exchanged attacks on each other’s strongholds, with the Locri residents trapped between the two groups of warring soldiers. When Hannibal arrived with reinforcements, some two thousand men, he used an agent to get a message into the city, telling the Carthaginian garrison to make a diversionary attack on the Roman stronghold at daybreak the next morning, while at the same time sending a squadron of men to open the gates for Hannibal. However, the Carthaginians’ sortie was met by strong resistance, and they were forced back into their camp almost immediately, leaving the Romans to man the gates and prevent Hannibal’s entry. His troops fought outside the walls all morning, but could not get in.

  Scipio arrived late that afternoon by ship on the opposite side of the city without Hannibal’s knowledge. Determined to secure Locri, Hannibal decided to attack again the next morning, this time with scaling ladders and siege equipment. When his men reached the walls, the city gates swung open and five thousand Roman soldiers burst forth.

  Hundreds of the Carthaginians were killed almost immediately. When Hannibal learned that Scipio was there, he called for a retreat before incur
ring any greater losses, then sealed himself in his camp. The following morning he sent a message to the Carthaginian garrison that he was leaving and that they were on their own. That afternoon the Carthaginian garrison set fire to their camp, and in the ensuing confusion, made a break from the city. Many were killed in the effort, but those who survived eventually caught up with Hannibal’s retreating army.

  Although the confrontation between Hannibal and Scipio had never really materialized, Scipio’s quick action had turned the tide, and yet another important city had come under Roman control. Scipio stayed in Locri a few more days to put the city in order. He began by reprimanding the Locrians for having gone over to Carthage. Then, following a public trial, he executed those who had helped the Carthaginians. Prior to his departure, Scipio doubled the size of the Roman garrison and put a tribune by the name of Pleminius in charge of the city. Scipio sailed into Syracuse’s Great Harbor two days after my failed attempt to find Troglius in the tunnels.

  Scipio called me to headquarters the morning after his return. He wanted to see what progress I had made on the map. I wasn’t quite finished, but I showed him the map anyway. Laelius was there with Scipio. Laelius wore his red tunic with a wide leather belt and his gladius at his hip. Scipio, as had become his custom, had draped himself in a white linen toga. I had hardly spoken to him since my return from Africa. He addressed me as soon as I entered the tent.

  “Timon, so good to see you.”

  “The pleasure is mine, sir.” The unfinished map was on the map table, rolled up like a scroll. I acknowledged Laelius with a tip of my head.

  “Laelius told me about the sighting device you showed him on the voyage to Africa. He said it defied description, and that only by seeing it could I possibly understand what it was or its significance. What is this device?”

  After showing the spyglass to Laelius, I had known it was only a matter of time before I would have to show it to Scipio. I had wanted to finish the map first, but I was not overly surprised that Laelius had already revealed what was supposed to be a secret.

  “As Laelius said, it’s a sighting device, sir. It enhances vision. I call it a spyglass.” I put my hand on the device hanging from my belt. “I would be honored to demonstrate it for you, but that would be best done outside. Let me show you what it’s allowed me to accomplish before we do that.”

  “Certainly, if that’s what you prefer.”

  I walked over to the large table at one end of the tent and unrolled the scroll. Scipio and Laelius stood beside me as I described the general layout of the map. “I have done my best to make this as accurate as I can. It’s drawn to scale so that any measurements you take from this map can be translated into Roman miles. I have included some topological enhancement, showing the hills and rivers, but I’m still working on that.”

  “And this coastline is accurate also?” asked Scipio as he studied the map.

  “Yes, thanks to Laelius,” I tapped the spyglass at my hip, “ and this sighting device.”

  Scipio nodded without looking up from the map. Laelius joined him in examining my work. They muttered back and forth between themselves, clearly impressed with the map and how they could make use of it.

  After a short time, Scipio looked up. “Excellent, Timon. This is far beyond what I imagined. Laelius has said that Masinissa took you inland to make some of the measurements. What did you think of the man? Can I count on him?”

  “Masinissa was a tremendous help to me. I think very highly of him.” I remembered what he had said about recovering his kingdom and securing the woman he loved. “We spent two days together. He believes by working with you he can regain his kingdom. Nothing is more important to him. I believe you can trust him.”

  Scipio nodded, seeming pleased by my appraisal. He turned to Laelius. “And he told you that Syphax is completely untrustworthy?”

  Laelius nodded. “This is one of the problems with going to Africa or any foreign region, sir. We don’t know the interrelations of these men and their tribes. I have met both Syphax and Masinissa. Syphax commands far more territory and troops. Masinissa, it seems, has lost much of his kingdom. I judge him more trustworthy than Syphax, but not as valuable.”

  “But his skills on a horse would be difficult to match. He would make a fine leader of a cavalry unit.”

  “Especially if he can recruit another thousand Numidians to ride with him.”

  “Which he led you to believe he could do?”

  “Yes.”

  Scipio thought about this a moment, then returned to looking at the map. He was likely planning the invasion as we watched.

  After a while he straightened up and turned to me. “This map is invaluable, Timon. Thank you.” He nodded to emphasize his sincerity. “Now what about this device, the spyglass, that Laelius has been raving about. Let’s have a look.”

  “As I said, sir, we should go outside. I would suggest out behind the camp on the hill to the west.”

  The three of us left camp from the rear gate. I led them up to the stone plinth that had once held the Temple of Jupiter. It was the perfect place to demonstrate the compound lenses. To the east was Syracuse’s Grand Harbor stretching out before us to the sea. To the north was the fortress of Syracuse, and to the south was lush, green Sicilian farmland as far as you could see. I showed Scipio how the tubes fit one inside the other, then pointed out the lenses at each end. “The lenses came from Archimedes, sir. He gave them to me the day he died.”

  I held the spyglass to my right eye and aimed it at the tower where I had lived with Archimedes. I demonstrated how twisting the tubes, lengthening or shortening the device, brought clarity to what one saw. I warned Scipio that the image would be upside down, then handed him the spyglass as Laelius stood by. His experience was much like everyone else’s. It took him a while to bring an image into focus, and then when he did, he didn’t know what to make of it. He lowered the spyglass from his eye and looked quizzically at the wide end.

  Scipio glanced at me then lifted the spyglass to his eye again. He progressed rapidly from there, targeting several different locations in the distance. He caught on faster than anyone else who had used the device and immediately understood the value of the spyglass’ application to warfare. Clearly impressed, he handed the tubes to Laelius, who took the opportunity to view the landscape for the sheer fascination of it.

  Scipio came up close to me while Laelius stood some distance away peering through the tubes.

  “I have never seen anything more remarkable, Timon. I would say that it’s magic if I hadn’t studied enough Greek science to know that it’s not. Do you ever look into the heavens with this device?”

  “It’s even more impressive at night, sir. Archimedes considered the lenses so powerful he asked me not to show them to anyone.”

  “And yet you have?”

  “I didn’t for a long time, then I began to understand it could help Rome in its war with Hannibal. Maybe even bring an end to the war more quickly and save thousands of lives.”

  Scipio nodded slowly, his eyes distant, as though measuring my words. “Yes, I see many possibilities for your spyglass.”

  Laelius returned to our company and handed the spyglass back to Scipio, who lifted it to his eye and stared straight out to sea. When he lowered it, he faced me. “Don’t show this to anyone else.” He looked at Laelius. “Who have you told”

  “Only you.”

  Scipio looked at me. “I think it would be wise if I keep this, so that it’s safe.”

  My stomach tightened. “I may have broken my promise to Archimedes by showing the spyglass to you and Laelius, sir, but I’m still its entrusted keeper. I can promise to keep it secret, but it must remain with me.”

  I saw a little flare of anger in Scipio’s eyes. He clearly understood the spyglass’ significance, and he wanted it for his own. But his eyes immediately softened, and he gave it back to me. “Then I suppose I should be grateful that you showed it to me at all.”

  “
Yes, sir. Thank you.”

  CHAPTER 51

  What Scipio saw in my map, and even more in the spyglass, changed how he saw me. When he first interviewed me, he was pleased with the extent of my knowledge and recognized immediately that I would be a valued asset. But after that day at the deconstructed site of the Temple of Jupiter, Scipio brought me into his inner circle, that included Laelius and his younger brother Lucius, who had not yet arrived in Syracuse. Scipio called me to headquarters periodically for advice. He asked me more questions about my time with Archimedes and my three campaigns with Marcellus. I think he now saw me as an intellectual equal—something rare for him—and someone he enjoyed talking to about philosophy and literature. He had been highly educated, more than any other Roman general I would ever meet. At times he would reveal his deep belief in patrician superiority, which he tended to cloak with his manners and charm. This more difficult side of Scipio was something I only began to see after I had gained his confidence, when he spoke more freely in my presence and allowed his arrogance and ambition to show. He thought very highly of himself and, like Marcellus, his destiny. But he affected a certain numinous quality in his person that Marcellus would have found far too self-serving. Scipio liked to say that he was in communication with the gods through his dreams, and when he spoke to his soldiers, he would often reveal these dreams, and the omens they forecast, invariably predicting the army’s success and other great things ahead. He was good at this. He used it to inspire his men, but it was also a kind of confidence game that he played.

  Laelius told me a story from Scipio’s siege of Cartagena. He had learned through extensive reconnaissance that when a low tide coincided with strong wind from the north, the lagoon to the west of Cartagena became shallow enough to march through and provided access to the least defended side of the city. When his men were assembled at the edge of the lagoon and the wind began to blow, he told his men that Neptune had spoken to him in a dream and told him this would happen. It was a psychological ploy, a way to make his troops believe in him and in themselves. And in Cartagena, of course, it proved out. As Scipio or any experienced general would tell you, an army’s mindset was just as critical to its success on the battlefield as its weapons.