by Ian Miller
"The principle's there though. It's just that a Greek can't see beyond the stunt stage."
"And a Roman's incapable of doing anything practical with it, because to do so would need imagination, and an imaginative Roman, apart from imagining military strategies, is a contradiction in terms."
"So you say."
"And even if by some miracle a Roman did it, your Tiberius would forbid it. Romans need slaves, not just for the work, but also because it gives them the power of life and death over someone else."
"I have never . . ." Gaius began to protest.
"I know, but you're not typical. If you were, I'd have left long ago, while I could."
"There's no really good answer to that," Gaius frowned, then suddenly his eyes lighted up. "Yes, there is. I have it."
"Have what?"
"The answer to your objection about Tiberius."
"Yeah! That'll be the day!"
"Suppose such a useful engine could be made. I know exactly how to get the Princeps' permission to use it."
"You seriously think you could persuade that old goat to think about bettering the lives of slaves?" Timothy asked, his voice filled with disbelief. "How?"
"Use it for tearing down fortifications, or moving legions around. There's nothing like a good conquest to get Rome's attention."
"I suppose that's typical Roman," Timothy muttered.
"Better still," Gaius grinned, "that would mean Rome would get more slaves from the newly conquered territories!"
"A typical Roman response to getting rid of the evils of slavery," Timothy muttered.
"Sometimes it's more practical to throw away such Greek ideas as geometry! As the General said, the most practical way between here and there is often not in a straight line."
"You're probably right," Timothy shrugged. He paused, then looked curiously at Gaius. "Yes, you probably are." He paused again.
"So, what exactly are you scheming?"
"Nothing," Timothy shook his head, then added, "Nothing of any use, anyway."
"You don't look like you were thinking about nothing," Gaius chided. "That was a big frown for nothing."
"The frown was for the consequences of what I might've started," Timothy shrugged. "I was thinking about your problem."
"My problem? What makes you think I've got a problem?" Gaius queried.
"Tiberius let me know about your having to earn your agnomen," Timothy shrugged.
"Oh, yes, that," Gaius muttered.
"If you made an engine that led to military expansion . . ."
"Gaius Claudius Scaevola Enginerius!!" Gaius laughed.
"Gaius Claudius Scaevola Germanicus?" Timothy countered. "Someone who brought the means for revenge over the Teutoburg forest disaster would earn a name to stand alongside Scipio Africanus."
"I think you're getting a bit carried away there," Gaius laughed. "No machine's going to conquer the Germans."
"Just what do you think leads to unexpected military success?"
"Great leaders, good troops . . ."
"That helps," Timothy shrugged, "but think. The Hyksos wiped out Egypt because they had steel swords against bronze, Alexander defeated all because his longer spears gave his men a huge advantage, Hannibal won because nobody knew what to do about elephants, and Rome has won because the Roman shield and gladius gives a big advantage. But such advantages wear out. The Egyptians eventually recovered when they had steel as well, the phalanx is history, Scipio turned the elephants against Hannibal, and now Roman expansion has stopped because everyone is starting to learn how to deal with the legion. One day, someone else will invent a new weapon, and Rome will be defeated."
Gaius stared at Timothy. The prediction. Rome in ruins! Could a new weapon do that much so quickly?
"Of course, if you had the new weapon, you could restart Roman expansion," Timothy pointed out, then he paused and added, "Not, of course, that that's likely to happen."
"I tend to agree," Gaius shrugged, "but why are you so sure?"
"I don't think you could do something useful, like make an engine."
"You couldn't," Gaius pointed out.
"No, but I'm a Greek," Timothy replied. "What I'm saying is that you, a Roman, aren't any better."
"I don't know anything about making engines," Gaius shrugged.
"Then I'll come with you to Alexandria," Timothy challenged. "There's the Great Library, and that's where some people have been playing around with making steam driven wheels. Everything that man knows is there. Have a look around. You still won't be able to make a useful engine, though."
"Because it's impossible?"
"For a Roman!" Timothy countered.
Gaius stared at him, then, after mumbling something about preparing to travel, he turned away. Timothy stared at the departing back, and smiled the smile of success.
* * *
A message came from Rome. Tiberius was old, soon he would die. This could be the last opportunity for a return to the Republic. He should return and take a stake in the political scene.
Gaius stared at the message. The man was an old associate of his father, which meant he would be a Republican agitator. Gaius had always felt his family was unlucky, but now he realized that was not the case. His family, being prominent in Rome, and being very wealthy, was always being made offers such as these. Invariably they had taken the wrong option, but why were they always wrong? Because they had allied themselves to people like this, people who may have good idealistic goals but who never had the drive to implement them. This man was no Caesar, so this man would lose.
He took a pen and wrote, "I believe Tiberius' successor has been decided and will be Gaius Caesar. I shall serve Caesar as best I can, and serve Rome by serving in a legion. You should forget everything about the republic and pledge your loyalty to Gaius Caesar for the benefit of Rome." He rolled the papyrus up, sealed it, and sent it back.
As Gaius suspected would happen, one of the spies for Gaius Caesar read the reply and reported.
* * *
Timothy surprised Gaius on the journey by showing a reasonable knowledge of navigation and he taught Gaius how to tell direction from the stars. He saw Mars, and was told how it would get quite bright over the next few months. All of this, Gaius thought wryly, is exactly what would be expected if Aristarchus were correct; the planets dimmed when they were on the other side of the sun because they were further away, and they were at their brightest when they were overhead at midnight, because then they were closest. Aristarchus' theory made sense except . . .
Then to Egypt. A land so old! Rome had been influential for hundreds of years, Egypt for thousands. If the buildings around the forum were large, those at Karnak were immense. Yet the power of Egypt was gone, probably forever. So, eventually, would go Rome's power, a thought that brought that prophecy back to his head. No, that was ridiculous. Rome could not fall into decay in his lifetime. Unless someone developed a new weapon!
The prophecy was stupid. No! The prophecy was useless. If Rome was to fall because of a new weapon, the required information was what this new weapon was, so that Rome could prepare . . . and void the prophecy. If a prophecy was to be useful, it had to be true, but if anything could be altered the prophecy would become not true. Therefore any prophecy had to be so obscure as to be useless, except for someone to say, "Well, I warned you, but . . ." Unless the prophecy caused someone to carry out the one action that the prophecy required to become true! There was a thought, but not a very useful one, because how did anyone know what would be required? Why not simply explain what had to be done and why?
Which in some ways came to the nub of his problem. That prophecy had no apparent purpose, either for him or anybody else. Yet the image of the woman had been so vivid, so specific, and to make matters more complicated, there was nobody on Rhodes who looked remotely like her. Her skin had been pale, and she had had almost golden hair. There was nobody on the island with golden hair, nobody with that pale skin, but more importantly, nobody with
lips or a nose like that. In fact, if asked what race she came from, he would have had to reply, 'None that he had ever met.' Her clothes seemed to be made of material that simply did not exist. The only explanation was, 'Clothes of the Gods'. And as far as everyone was concerned, that temple had been abandoned for hundreds of years.
Could it really have been a message from the Gods? If so, there had to be Gods. But why that message to him? If the Gods wanted him to do something, it would have been easier to tell him what it was they wanted! Why the riddles? And what could he do about them? Simply wait? He would see great truths. What sort of a prediction was that? Perhaps that had already happened. He was convinced Aristarchus was correct, and overturning the great Aristotle would be a great . . . But he was not overturning anything. As things stood, the Earth did not fall to pieces, so Aristarchus was wrong. He would make an invention that would change . . . Nothing except his own future? And not in his lifetime?
Once again, he considered the possibility that someone had played a trick on him, and once again he rejected it. The moss on the temple, the girl and her clothes, were too convincing to be possible. So what was it? Did it matter? He had been given no instructions, other than to 'go on', and what else could he do?
It was so confusing. And while he was seeing wonders in Egypt, there were no great truths and no inventions, although shortly they would visit Alexandria. More irritating, he had yet to meet the most beautiful woman in the world. Or, for that matter, the ugliest!! The last could definitely be put off!
* * *
One thing that could not have been put off after reaching Alexandria was the visit to Governor Aulus Avillius Flaccus, particularly if Tiberius was to send his appointment through the governor. When Gaius turned up, he was annoyed that he had to wait, and wait, and wait. Eventually he was shown into the room.
"So . . ." Flaccus said eventually, "you are honouring us with your presence?" The sarcasm was obvious, but there was also the sneering sign of the bully in the tone.
"My family has estates towards the Nile," Gaius replied politely.
"Egypt belongs to the government of Rome," Flaccus challenged.
"Apart from those specially granted by the divine Augustus," Gaius replied.
"They could be confiscated," Flaccus mused, "although perhaps I could put in a good word . . ." He left his sentence hanging, and Gaius recognized it for what it was: extortion.
"Tiberius confirmed the grant," Gaius said quickly. Strictly speaking, this was not true, but then again, he knew about it and had not rescinded it. Tiberius had found it convenient to have a nervous Claudian organizing corn shipments.
"I see," Flaccus muttered. That might or might not be true, but if he challenged the assertion he had better be right because Tiberius was getting less and less tolerant of having his orders questioned. He then stared at Gaius and added, "You should be in the army."
"I await Tiberius' orders," Gaius replied. Clearly, no orders had come through Flaccus.
"Perhaps I could put in a recommendation?"
Another attempt at extortion! As if Flaccus could change Tiberius' mind!
"If you let Tiberius know I've arrived," Gaius replied, a little stiffly, "I would appreciate that."
"I'll certainly do that," Flaccus grunted. "Well, unless you have anything else to offer, I'm busy."
"Of course, Governor," Gaius said. He saluted, turned and left.
Yes, he could afford to grease Flaccus, but he was not going to do so. Flaccus should be doing his job, not getting rich from his job.
* * *
Gaius sat down under a palm and looked across the open space. There were so many people. This was a city that rivalled Rome for status, if not for influence. Yet Alexandria was such a strangely new city compared with others in this land. He had visited the ancient temples, he had seen the remains of such a powerful nation, and he had even seen the more modern temples, including the one with the door opened by sunlight.
Gaius smiled. Timothy was almost obsessed with this pneuma thing. At first sight, the use of the sunlight to heat air to open a temple door was impressive, but on second sight less so. The door was so finely balanced with the big counterweight that opening it was easy. An interesting trick, but that was all.
Yesterday was a slightly different matter. Somehow Timothy had heard of someone using steam. They had visited this man's workshop, and to Gaius' surprise, there was a small device that turned a tiny wheel. A small sphere was filled with water and when heated by a fire, a jet of steam came out and turned a small paddlewheel. Another useless device! There was a small hole on top, and a small bob was seated in this, seemingly to keep the steam pressure down. If too much steam was generated to get out the other little hole, or the hole blocked, the device could blow up. Apparently that had happened once, and the operator had been badly scalded. The bob was a safety valve, and made sure the steam pressure stayed low enough to be safe, but it also meant that all the steam could do was to turn this tiny wheel, and then only as long as the load was light. If there was any more than the tiniest load, the wheel stalled and steam went around it anyway.
That figured! Steam wasn't going to work hard. Just like a slave, give it half a chance, it would find the easy way out! The device was a useless toy. Except that Athene had mentioned that he had to build something based on something like that. What was it? Something revolutionary that would change everything. That wretched toy would change nothing!
He leaned back and watched as two grossly overladen donkeys were being led across his field of view. The load of one was hopelessly out of balance, and it began to slide. Two young boys leaped into action and tried to hold the load. Two young women were watching and laughing as the load swayed, steadied, then began to slip elsewhere. Melons came out of their bags, and fell to the ground and began rolling away. Then the man who was presumably the owner of the melons appeared and began swearing at the boy leading the donkey, at the young women, and even at the two boys who had tried to help. Soon a small crowd began to gather, and the straying melons began to disappear.
Suppose, like the melons, Gaius mused, the steam was held in so it could not escape around the side of that paddle wheel, but had to turn it to get out, would it? At first the answer was no. Being sensible steam, it would take the easy way out. Why lift a weight when you can lift a small bob! So, put a brick on the bob? It would either turn the wheel, lift the bob, or blow up, whichever was easiest.
If it could blow up, it had quite significant power. You could do something with that power. Put a brick on the bob, and build the walls of the kettle thicker, now the steam had to turn the wheel! Except it wouldn't. It would always go around the side of the paddle.
How could a paddle be enclosed? As far as he could see, it couldn't. You could, in principle, build a housing to encase the paddle, but there would still be gaps between the paddle and the wall. Amongst other things, to do any good, the paddle had to be of a reasonable size, and you could not make anything that large and get it to fit together tightly enough. And even if you could, if the power came from the steam, as everyone said, to get more power you would need more steam. That was a dinky little kettle, but it could not easily be made bigger. To be practical, it would have to be made in parts, and how could you join the parts together?
The short answer was, you couldn't. Superficially, the problem was to keep more steam in and get it to do more work. Fixing the valve was easy, but it was then the problems began. There was no way to make a big enough steam generator, and there was no way to make the steam turn the wheel, rather than fly off into the air.
This steam device looked like a great idea, but a useful steam engine was clearly impossible. Except for that wretched prophecy! Athene, or whoever or whatever that was, seemed convinced it would work. But how?
Chapter 21
Gaius never ceased to be surprised by the fertility of the Black Lands. The sheer lushness of the crops was beyond belief, and almost equally beyond belief was the abrupt end of
the lushness that occurred in some places. When the water stopped, the desert began, the harshest place he had ever seen, and the boundary between lushness and desert could be as little as a pace or so wide. This ranch was different. There was a broader boundary, and grapes were being harvested.
This was the property of his family, and Gaius had come to arrange family business, ensuring the shipment of more corn and wine. Egypt, prior to the Roman invasion, had been owned by the Pharaohs, and all workers worked for them. Greece had operated similarly, with workers working for their city state and spending their time dodging the continual wars, and it was in part much for this reason that Roman conquest had been so easy, as just prior to the wars, general corruption led to a breakdown of the economies. During Cleopatra's flirtation with Julius, considerable tracts of land were acquired by certain Roman families, and in particular, by his stub of the Claudian gens. Eventually Augustus claimed all of Egypt as his personal property, but there was one person whom even Augustus could not dominate: Livia. As such, some Claudian property was not appropriated, and his family managed to keep up a good trade with Rome.
The deals were done, all well within his father's guidelines. The Egyptians were also happy, for besides running the ranch, they were permitted a certain level of private enterprise, and since Gaius was expected to join a legion in Judea, a place where their trading activities had lost a number of caravans, they were very content. A Roman tribune could easily arrange for an escort, and even a hint of legionary protection would dissuade most thieves. Killing to steal Roman property was a reasonably quick path to the cross.
The workers were bringing in the grapes in their large wicker baskets, and the juice was quickly pressed out of them. It was so pleasant sitting in the shade; far better than working in the sun! An attractive young woman had brought him a tumbler of beer, and he sat back to sip. It was a strange drink, Egyptian beer, but it grew on you. He watched as another batch of grapes were unloaded and the arms of the press turned. He could see the juice trickling into the container below.
