“But you might if this celebration continues another few days. Drink is known to do that.”
“No, no matter how much I drink, I won’t forget. Thank you.” I embraced him despite his effort to stop me. “And please pass my thanks on to Caelius. He also deserves credit for reuniting me with my mother. I just don’t know how you’ve done it, somehow fooling everyone into thinking you’re a fool.”
Ennius pushed me away. “Kind sir, you underestimate my talents as an actor.” He winked. “Soon I must take up the role of a dedicated member of the Roman military. I hope I can play that part as convincingly.”
Before I could assure him of certain success, two men approached him, both also showing no pain. “We’re looking for the Mayor,” said one.
“You’ve found him,” announced Ennius with a wide grin and a bow. “I’m guessing you’d like me to recite The Iliad for you.”
“No, no,” said the other, taking him by the hand and dragging him off into the crowd. “We want you to introduce us to Caelius. We have Hannibal’s sword in our possession. We’re looking for a buyer.”
“Oh, yes, I’m sure there’s a sucker somewhere that will swallow that line,” I heard the playwright chuckle before he vanished into the night.
CHAPTER 118
Two days after the celebration had ended, I learned from Edeco that Marcus had returned from southern Italy and that he was staying at the residence in Rome. I rode Balius into Rome the next morning, knowing that seeing Marcus and talking to Sempronia were necessary before returning to Syracuse.
Somewhat hesitant to visit Sempronia’s home, I went to the Claudian residence first. I stabled Balius, then went into the house through the peristyle. Laelia knelt beside a flower bed, pulling weeds. She looked up at me in complete surprise.
“I’m looking for Marcus, Laelia. Is he here?”
“He’s in Rome, but not here at the house. I’m not sure when he’ll be back. How are you? I heard you were in Africa with Scipio.”
“Yes, that’s right. And so was Rullo.”
“What! He ran away. I had no idea where he went.”
“You should be proud of him. He joined the Twenty-third legion and fought in the battle that defeated Hannibal. He’s a hero in his own right.”
“How is he? Is he in Rome?”
“He’s fine, but he’s not here. He was reassigned to the Fifth Legion and is stationed in Sicily.”
“At least he’s alive. I thought he’d been killed in the streets.”
“No, Laelia. He’s a fine young man. I’m going back to Sicily. I will tell him I saw you.”
“Timon!” Portia came into the garden from the Atrium. It had been four years since I had seen her. She was still as stunning a woman as ever. She embraced me like a son, while all I wanted to do was pull away and give her a piece of my mind.
“Where might I find Marcus?” I asked as she released me.
“I’m not sure. He may have gone back to the farm. He’s been in Rome the last two days.”
“Yes, that’s what I’ve heard. I haven’t seen him yet.” I hesitated, weighing the need to confront her about Paculla.
Portia looked at the floor, then up at me. “I owe you an apology, Timon. You were right about Paculla. She befriended me and my friends to take advantage of us. She was a spy, not a priestess. I think she was responsible for your mother’s disappearance, and I feel partly to blame. I’m so sorry. I’m just glad you’re back from Africa.”
Instead of venting my anger, I pushed past it. “Let me relieve your worries. Paculla did have something to do with my mother’s disappearance, but she’s fine now. She’s out at the farm as we speak.”
Portia embraced me again, this time with greater warmth and feeling. I told her the short version of finding my mother and did my best not to reveal the feelings I had harbored against her for the last four years.
I left the house, head down, as into a wind, and crossed the city to Sempronia’s home. I approached the front door prepared to knock, but decided against it. I couldn’t bear being turned away again. Instead, I went down the alley to the back of the property. Just as I had before, I climbed the rail fence and quietly edged up to the peristyle, hoping that Sempronia might be there.
I didn’t see her, so I slipped through the colonnade that surrounded the peristyle and into the garden. No one was there—but the parrot.
“Timon!” squawked Ajax loud and piercing.
Sempronia appeared at the entrance to the atrium as Ajax squawked again. “A squared plus B squared.”
We stared at each other from across the garden uncertain how to begin. Dora broke the spell by striding out of the atrium with a broom, set to use it on me. Sempronia stopped her.
“Dora, please leave us alone. I want to talk to this man.”
Dora glared at me, muttered something, then went back into the house. Sempronia, now twenty years old and looking more beautiful than ever, a dream in real life, came up to me and cautiously took my hand. She led me to the stone bench where we had reviewed so many geometry proofs. The roses were in bloom. Their fragrance paled in comparison to the sweet smells that encompassed Sempronia.
“You’ve returned, Timon.” She still held my hand.
“As I said I would.”
A long silence filled the garden. I fought the urge to compare her to Moira. Sempronia was something different—a fairy, a princess, ethereal and pure, a woman to whom geometry and numbers were as much a joy as they were to me. Clearly she was special in a way that Moira was not. I thought of Scipio’s offer to adopt me. I thought of living in Rome at the pinnacle of wealth and society. Then I thought of my mother’s words of caution, and finally I thought of Moira and her children and her little orchard in Sicily.
“I need to tell you something, Sempronia.”
Sempronia let go of my hand and put her index finger to my lips. “Before you say anything, there’s something you must know. It might impact what you want to tell me.”
This caught me off guard. “What is it?”
“I have met Marcus.”
I tilted my head.
“He was just here. I was taking him to the front door when you came in through the back.” She lowered her eyes, then lifted them to mine. “He asked my mother for my hand. We’re going to be married.” She smiled, clearly pleased, but with just enough sadness in her eyes to suggest she was worried this might hurt me.
“That’s wonderful,” I said, embracing her as I never had before, truly loving this woman, yet knowing that fate had given us separate paths.
When I released her, I told her I was going back to Syracuse. I told her that I had found a woman in Sicily and that I would ask her to marry me when I returned. Sempronia then embraced me.
At that point Fulvia stormed into the garden. “What’s this man doing here?” she screamed. “I thought we threw him out long ago.”
Sempronia stood up, and with Fulvia’s and my lurid moment in the dark spinning out there in air between us, she told her mother that she had asked me into their home to tell me about her engagement to Marcus. Fulvia frowned, then glared at me and stomped out.
I embraced Sempronia again and said good-bye. I wished her the best in her marriage to Marcus, and assured her that I would return to Rome one day to visit them. We parted as good friends should, happy for each other.
Seeing Marcus was now imperative. Thinking he must have returned to the farm, I hurried back to the stable for Balius. Ithius was there brushing him. I had not seen Ithius since returning from Africa. As soon as I saw him, I knew I could not have left Rome without talking to him.
He asked me about the events in Africa. I told him about finding my mother and Rullo’s surprise appearance, and lastly I showed him the spyglass. He seemed to understand the action of the lenses after just a few tries.
“So this must be one of Archimedes’ secrets that you were so concerned about revealing?”
I nodded. “I showed it to Scipio and several other pe
ople since our talk—what was it, five years ago?”
“Was it right to show them?”
I thought about Scipio’s response to the spyglass and his desire to own it. I thought about his using the image projected from the pinhole to deceive his staff. I thought about the drawings that I had found in Archimedes’ workshop, and trading one of them to Hannibal for my mother’s freedom. “I don’t know if it was right, Ithius. I don’t. But I did it anyway.”
He raised the spyglass in one hand. “You don’t think a device like this should be shared?”
“My experience has shown that it depends on the person. For some people, it was simply curious and amazing. To others, like Scipio, it spoke of power and advantage. He wanted it kept secret, but he also wanted it for his own. He even offered to buy it from me—at any price I asked. It may have been a mistake to show it to Scipio, but he was also the only one who saw the spyglass as more than a tool. While it baffled most people, and they thought of it as magic, for Scipio it was a glimpse into a world of possibilities. He saw what the application of science might one day contribute to humankind, and that the potential for such applications was unlimited.”
“But he also saw it as an advantage in war.”
“Oh, yes. That was nowhere more evident than when we were at sea.”
“Did you allow him to use it freely?”
“I did. After we left Africa, he told me it had been of immeasurable help to him.”
“So what was wrong with showing him?”
“His immediate desire to keep it secret and for himself.”
“Do you think Archimedes was right all along?”
“No, I think you were. Knowledge is to be shared, and yet some knowledge, especially that which can be applied to mass destruction, will always be secreted away or stolen or sold for large sums of money. I can imagine a time when science is pursued as an arm of the military.” I recalled Marcellus’ dream of seeing long silver projectiles propelled by fire arc across the sky then explode when they hit the ground. “But after watching men among men, and realizing that war is what men do, I struggle to find a reason to give them the tools of science to add to their arsenals. This, I’m sure, was Archimedes’ greatest concern. Why give men more ways to kill each other?”
“Yes, of course, but how do you draw the line between the good and the bad? Your spyglass for example. It has military value, but it wasn’t designed for war. It’s very entertaining and can be used to increase our understanding of the world. That’s considerably different than, say, a catapult.”
“So you’re saying it’s complicated. There’s no clear yes or no to the question.”
Ithius chuckled. “Exactly, and the only solution is to make knowledge available to everyone, and to hope that it allows men to move beyond war and killing each other.”
“Not in our lifetimes.”
“What about ten lifetimes?” He grinned.
“Perhaps twenty.”
“So what will you do with your spyglass, Timon? Destroy it? Show it to more people? Or keep it secret?”
“Sell it to Scipio for ten gold talents.”
Ithius looked at me.
“No,” I laughed. “I will keep it, and only show it to those I know I can trust.”
“Like me.” Ithius laughed.
“Like you.”
CHAPTER 119
I rode Balius out to the farm that afternoon. Marcus was in the stable and saw me as I rode up. He immediately came out to greet me and embraced me like a brother when I dismounted.
“Timon! I heard you were here. And your mother is back also.”
I told him the story, all but my trade with Hannibal.
“I have something to tell you,” he said, grinning in a way he hadn’t in a long time.
“You met Sempronia.”
“How did you know?”
“I spoke to her earlier today. She told me you’re going to be married.”
He blushed for the first time since I had known him. “Yes, we only settled it today. I haven’t told my mother yet.”
“Congratulations, Marcus.” Now I embraced him. “I’m so happy that it’s finally worked out.”
“You were right about Sempronia. I chanced to meet her in Rome before I went south for the summer. She came to the house in Rome with her mother. I happened to be there. And that was all it took. I’m sorry I made it all so hard for you.” He suddenly paused to appraise me. “You didn’t hope to marry her, did you?”
I shook my head. “I’m a freedman, Marcus.” I had no intention of telling him Scipio had offered to adopt me. “Fulvia would never have allowed it. Besides I’ve found a woman.”
“Here in Rome?”
“No, in Sicily. I’m done with the Roman military. I’m returning to Syracuse to be a mapmaker and to marry the Sicilian woman.”
“Have you already asked her?”
I laughed nervously. “I haven’t seen her in three years. I hope she’s still available.”
“You’ll have to bring her to Rome.”
“Of course, but I must marry her first. I plan to leave for Sicily as soon as I’m given my portion of the spoils. Balius will have to stay here until I’m settled, but I’ll take my mother with me, and I’ll have an entirely new life—without the army.”
“I’m happy for you, but I will also miss you. You have been a better friend than anyone I’ve known. Come, let’s go into the house. We deserve a cup of mulsum. I feel like celebrating.”
“The war is over!” I exclaimed as though the most important thing to all of us had been forgotten.
“Scipio has done what my father had wanted to do. He has proven to be a remarkable leader. I admire him, and, of course, like any good Roman, I’m a little jealous.”
As we crossed the yard to the house, I remembered something I needed to tell Marcus. “Did you know that the boy, Rullo, enlisted in the army?”
“No, I guess I didn’t even notice he was gone.”
“But you did know he’s your son?”
Marcus stopped walking and frowned. “Who said that?”
“I guessed it, Marcus. I saw it in his face.”
Marcus looked off to the wheat fields west of the house.
“He was there in Africa, Marcus. I shared a tent with him.”
Marcus faced me.
“He made a good showing. You should be proud of him.”
Marcus bowed his head, clearly uncertain how to react.
“He saved Troglius’ life at the battle Zama.”
Marcus hesitated, then asked, “Did he come back with you?”
“No, he’s in Sicily with the Fifth for now.”
“Does he know I’m his father?”
“I told him before the battle of Zama—to bolster his confidence.”
Marcus nodded slowly, then took a deep breath. “Thank you, Timon. I think you’ve told me something I needed to know.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulder and escorted me into the house.
CHAPTER 120
When the spoils were divided, with most of the gold and silver going to the Roman treasury, I received a share. It was more money than I had ever had. I booked passage on a merchant ship to Syracuse for my mother and me. It was at the end of the season and the seas were rough. The one-week voyage took two. I was glad when it was over. When we entered the Great Harbor, I felt as though I were coming home.
The day we arrived I secured an apartment in Syracuse for my mother. The next morning I told her I had some business to attend to outside the city. She knew I was going to see Moira, but refrained from any questions. “Enjoy the walk,” was all she said when I left.
I had been ten years old when Hannibal entered Italy. Now I was twenty-six. Well over half of my life had been to the beat of war. During the walk from Syracuse’s south gate through the farmland, I finally began to feel that it was really over. For once, I was actually looking ahead and planning a life.
Moira saw me coming down the road. She was in the orchard wi
th her children. She didn’t come running. She simply stood there watching me get closer. Donato and Rosa—now seven and five—were at her side.
When I reached the orchard, Donato ran to greet me. Rosa raced after him. I caught them both in my arms and swung them around twice before setting them on the ground. Moira allowed her first smile but had yet to take a step toward me.
The children trailed after me as I continued into the orchard to their mother.
“You’ve come back,” she said as though surprised that I had.
“I said I would.”
We stared at each other for who knows how long. The children were a short distance away, picking figs from the ground. I said the only thing I could think of. “Will you marry me?”
Her look was suspicion.
I went down on one knee. “I’m no longer a part of the Roman army. I’m my own man. Will you marry me?”
Finally, finally, she let go and burst into a beautiful smile and a flood of tears. She took my hand and drew me to my feet. We embraced three years worth of missing each other, then kissed deeply into oblivion—until two sets of little hands were tugging at our clothes.
Over dinner that evening I told her that the campaign to Africa had been extremely profitable and that I wanted to buy her grandfather’s farm back from the neighbors. I told her we would run the farm and I would also begin a mapmaking business. Depending on how things went, we would stay on the farm or move into the city. Moira could not have been more pleased. I told her my mother had come with me, and that we would go into Syracuse to meet her in the morning.
Moira had led a hard life. Like me, she had known the chaos of war and little else. We spent the night lying on a blanket out front of her house. Sometime around midnight she let it all out, crying like a child. I simply held her and let her cry.
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