"Were they here?" asked Archimedes quietly.
Marcus hesitated- then nodded. "Last night," he whispered. "They were here when you came back from your dinner. They hid in the dining room until it was quiet again. They're gone now." He pulled himself up, and went on, for the sake of all the household, but especially for the girl who was watching him in shocked amazement, "One of them is my brother. I helped him because I was bound to, but first I made him swear not to harm anyone in this house. He urged me to escape with him, but I refused. I wanted no part of the attack on Syracuse. I am prepared to accept the consequences of what I have done."
"Where are they?" demanded the half-file leader.
"Already out of the city," replied Marcus proudly. "They'll be back in their own camp by now. You can search as much as you like, but you won't find them."
"You'll come with us as the king ordered," said the half-file leader, and Marcus at once bowed his head in agreement.
"I'll- come as well," said Archimedes hoarsely.
He crossed the courtyard to his mother, took her by the arms, and kissed her cheek. "Don't worry," he told her. "Let the men search the house- though I don't think there's any point in bothering Euphanes at this time of morning. Stay and make sure they don't take anything. And don't let them be insolent." He looked from Arata to the half-file leader, and his next words were intended for the whole party. "We are not insignificant people."
They left the half-file leader directing the search of the house and started off toward the Ortygia: Agathon, Archimedes, and Marcus, walking between two guardsmen but, at Archimedes' insistence, not bound. Agathon said nothing, though every line of his rigid back and every glance of his sour face expressed the most absolute disapproval. Marcus, who walked silently with his head bowed, could feel those glances like a flick of the fingers against his face. Archimedes' looks of unhappy concern, however, were much more painful.
When they reached the king's house, they found Hieron and Dionysios still in the dining room. The king jumped to his feet when they entered and beamed at Archimedes. "Good health to you, and I thank the gods!" he exclaimed, coming over to shake hands. "Forgive me if I've disturbed you unnecessarily, but-"
"The slave has admitted it," interrupted Agathon harshly. "He says he smuggled the two prisoners out of the city last night."
Hieron turned to Marcus. The smile he had given Archimedes was still fading from his lips, but the expression in his eyes was already something quite different. "How?" he asked.
Marcus cleared his throat. "I lowered them down from the seawall just where it turns inland. There's only one guard on that stretch, and he didn't come downstairs to check the catapult platforms on the ground floor. There was no moon, and it was simply a matter of waiting until he was out of the way." He looked at Archimedes. "I borrowed that hoist you built when I last retiled the roof. You know, the one with the windlass that clamps onto things? We clamped it to the artillery port, and I lowered Gaius down in the tile basket- his arm's broken, and his ribs, and he couldn't have gone down a rope. Fabius just slid down after him. Then I pulled the basket up again, unclamped the windlass, and went home."
"Why?" asked the king softly. His clear dark eyes rested on Marcus' face, their expression impenetrable.
Marcus straightened his shoulders. "One of the escaped men is my brother. Gaius Valerius, son of Gaius, of the Valerian voting tribe."
"A Roman citizen," said the king.
"Yes," said Marcus. "I used to be a Roman as well." He glanced at the expressions on the faces about him: the door-keeper disapproving; Archimedes stunned and miserable; Dionysios and the two guards angry and confused; the king- unreadable. He might as well go on- there was no sense in keeping anything back. Even if he had not admitted it, they would have known what he had done. They'd sent guards for him: someone must have remembered his visit to the quarry. "I happened to see the prisoners when they were being marched into the city, and I recognized Gaius. Gaius saw me, too. I couldn't leave him. He was wounded and… I could not leave him to think I'd forgotten everything I was. I went to speak to him next day. You know about that. The other man, Fabius, was next to Gaius and overheard us talking, so I had to involve him as well."
"I don't know about it," said Archimedes numbly.
"You don't," agreed Marcus, and looked back at the king. "You probably realize that already, lord, but I can confirm it: Archimedes didn't know anything about any of it. I never told him even that I was a Roman." He turned back to his master. "Sir, I told the guards at the quarry I was your slave and that you'd sent me to check which quarry would provide the best stone for the three-talenter. They let me in at once. I went up to the shed and spoke to Gaius through the wall. He asked me to help him escape. I told him he was better off where he was, but he didn't believe it.- They'd been told a lot of stupid stories about you, lord," he added apologetically to Hieron.
"Really?" asked Hieron. "What stupid stories?"
Marcus hesitated, and the king said, "Please! I will not blame you for repeating what they said, and I would very much like to know."
"They had you confused with Phalaris of Akragas," said Marcus uncomfortably. "They told me you cooked people alive in a bronze bull. And they said you had people impaled on stakes."
"Tch-tch," said Hieron. "Is there anyone in particular I'm supposed to have had cooked or impaled, or did I choose my victims at random?"
"You're supposed to have cooked your opponents, I think," said Marcus, even more embarrassed, "and impaled their wives and children. A hundred of them, I think they said. I told Gaius it was all lies, but, as I said, I don't think he really believed me. His friend told me I'd gone very Greek. They know nothing about Greeks and less about Syracuse."
"I impale children, do I?" said Hieron thoughtfully. "Gods! Very well, go on. You agreed to help your brother and his friend escape. You gave them money, a saw, some rope, and a weapon of some kind."
"A knife," said Marcus. "Yes. I hoped they wouldn't use it, but I've heard that they did. I'm sorry for the man, whoever he was."
"His name was Straton son of Metrodoros," said the king. "I believe you knew him."
Archimedes and Marcus both stared, appalled. "Straton?" asked Marcus in horror. "But- it wasn't the troops from the Ortygia who-"
"I was given charge of the prisoners yesterday," said Dionysios coldly. "Straton was watching the western end of the wall last night. They cut his throat."
"Oh, gods!" groaned Marcus. He covered his face: he could no longer meet the eyes that watched him. The whole of the long sleepless night, the anxious days before it, came crashing down on him, and he feared that he would burst into tears. Straton! Not a nameless guard, but a man he'd known, a good-natured gambler, a fellow who liked a joke, a man with the same real and urgent life as himself.
"You liked him," came the king's quiet voice.
Marcus nodded behind his hands. "I… yes, I liked him. He was a man who deserved a long life. Oh, gods! I should never have given them anything except the money! Gaius said he wouldn't have tried to escape if he'd realized I didn't mean to come."
"Why didn't you go with them?" asked the king. "Why are you here to begin with? One does not expect to find a Roman citizen as a slave. I'd assumed that you were merely a Roman ally who'd recognized someone who might help him, but it seems the situation is altogether more complicated than that."
Marcus lowered his hands. "It's not complicated," he declared bitterly. "I enrolled in the legions for the Pyrrhic War. At Asculum I panicked when the Epirots charged. I dropped my shield and ran. Afterward I claimed not to be a Roman so that I wouldn't be sent back."
"Ah," said Hieron, in a tone of revulsion.
"I don't understand!" exclaimed Archimedes. "Why…"
"The Romans kill men for deserting their posts," said the king. "They strip the unfortunate deserter naked and stand him in front of his comrades, who are then urged to beat him to death with sticks and stones. They consider this a great incitement
to valor- which it undoubtedly is, if you think valor worth purchasing at such a price." Hieron moved closer to Marcus and peered quizzically into his face. He was close enough that Marcus could feel the heat of his breath, but with the guards boxing him in he could not move away. Trapped under that scrutiny, for the first time that morning he really felt himself to be a prisoner.
"They are not always as ferocious in inflicting such extreme penalties as they pretend, however," the king went on. "Men who merely flee out of panic are usually let off with a beating. And Asculum was a long time ago. I would have thought that after so many years in exile, you would have been able to return."
"They would have asked me for information about the defenses of Syracuse," said Marcus. His voice was flat; he felt beaten. Who was going to believe this? He had given a knife to the enemies of Syracuse, and they had used it to kill a citizen: how could he claim he was loyal, after that? But he went on anyway. "When I refused to give it to them, they would have killed me."
"And you would have refused?"
"Yes!" Marcus said, collecting the last limp remnants of his strength and glaring into those impenetrable eyes. "Disbelieve it if you like, but I would have refused. Syracuse has committed no offense against the Roman people, and Rome has no business attacking her. For my own part, this city allowed me life. If it was a life of slavery, that wasn't her fault, and she's given me things that I hadn't even known existed. I am in her debt, and I will never repay that debt with injury. May the gods destroy me if I do- and may the gods favor Syracuse, and crown her with victory!"
"That is not a prayer I ever expected to hear spoken by a Roman," observed Hieron dryly. "But you have done injury to the city already, in abetting the murder of one of her defenders." He went back to his couch at the table and sat down. "Let us return to what happened last night. Did you go to the quarry to help your brother and his friend over the wall?"
"He was at my house," put in Archimedes abruptly. "He would have been missed in the evening if he'd been away. And he let me in when I came home. That was a couple of hours after midnight."
"He said they were already there then," said Agathon. "Hiding."
Marcus nodded and numbly recited the facts. "They arrived just before Archimedes. I'd told them to come to the house when they could, beginning on the third night after I spoke to them. I made them swear not to hurt anyone in it." With a shudder he remembered again how Fabius had crouched under the dining-room window, knife in hand, blood on his cheek, eyes gleaming. But there was no reason to mention that to the king.
"Lord," said Archimedes urgently. "This man is mine."
"Questionable," replied Hieron. "He is, it seems, a Roman citizen, and should not be a slave at all. Marcus- Valerius, I suppose it is. Son of Gaius, of the Valerian voting tribe."
"My father purchased him legally," said Archimedes stubbornly. "He has been in my family for a long time, and he has always shown himself faithful, until now. He wouldn't have been disloyal now, either, if he hadn't been bound by an older loyalty to his brother. He refused to purchase his own safety at the cost of treachery to the city, and he remained here to suffer the consequences of his offense."
"Did he?" asked the king. "Or did he just hope that he wouldn't get caught?"
"I hoped that I would not get caught," said Marcus readily, "but I was prepared to suffer the consequences if I was. I am ready to suffer them now, O King." He wished they would get it over with.
"And just what do you think those consequences are?" inquired Hieron.
Marcus stared at him in silence. The round, bright-eyed face was still unreadable. "You will have me put to death," he said. He was proud of how calm he sounded.
"Ah, death!" exclaimed the king. He leaned back on the couch, put his legs up, and crossed them. "Phalaris of Akragas, am I? You know, Archimedes, I've always wondered about that bronze bull. Is it even technically possible? I don't mean casting a hollow statue, I mean the rest of it- that the screams of the victims were distorted into a lowing such as a bull might make."
Archimedes blinked. "It's technically possible to distort a sound, yes, of course. But…"
"So it might have existed? A shame. Don't worry, I'm not going to ask you to build me one! Marcus Valerius, what am I supposed to have you put to death for? A fine man died because of what you did- but you didn't kill him yourself, clearly didn't want him killed, and were not present at the murder. The most you can be said to have done is to have provided a murder weapon, and that is not generally reckoned a capital offense. Neither is it a capital offense to help a kinsman out of prison, and you are not, so far as I can tell, guilty of anything else. You have certainly abused the trust of your excellent master and put his household in danger, but he seems more inclined to plead for you than to accuse you. Since I am not Phalaris of Akragas, I am not going to put you to death for crimes to which a jury would assign a lesser penalty."
"Now, if your offenses are not capital, they remain serious, but what penalty you should receive for them depends on your status, which is, as I said just now, questionable. You say that you are a Roman citizen; Archimedes says that you are his slave. As a slave who has deceived his master, betrayed the city, and abetted the murder of a citizen, you should be flogged and sent to work in the quarries. As a Roman, however, you are an enemy national, and your treatment depends entirely upon the military authorities of Syracuse- in other words, on me." He glanced about the room, as though inquiring whether anyone disputed this. When his eyes met Archimedes', they stopped for a moment.
"I withdraw my claim to this man," said Archimedes in a low, unsteady voice. "Or, if necessary, I will free him. He is in your hands, O King."
Hieron inclined his head in acknowledgment. "I think it's sufficient that you withdraw your claim. Do you want compensation for him? How much did he cost?"
"I don't want compensation."
Another nod. The king turned back to Marcus. "Marcus Valerius, son of Gaius, of the Valerian voting tribe of the city of Rome, you have assisted two of your countrymen to escape from the prison in which they were being held. It seems to me most fitting that you should take their place in that prison, and that you should be exchanged, ransomed, or released with those of your fellow citizens who were taken in arms. Should you think that I am by this means after all sentencing you to death, and making your own people your executioners, let me add that, as far as I am concerned, you are welcome to tell Appius Claudius about the defenses of Syracuse. Nothing you could say would injure this great city, and it might help her. I had in fact intended to show those very defenses to your fellow prisoners, as a remedy to the contempt in which the consul appears to hold us.
"As for Straton son of Metrodoros, he died at the hands of the enemies of Syracuse. I decree that he is to receive a state funeral, and that his family is to be provided for as though he had died in battle- for he fell guarding the city no less than those who die in defense of the walls."
Hieron stopped and again surveyed the room. Archimedes inclined his head at once. Dionysios hesitated, obviously considering a protest, but, after a glance at Archimedes, yielded. Then Hieron nodded as well, satisfied. "Take the prisoner to the quarry, and put him in his brother's place," he commanded the two guards. "Captain Dionysios, I disagree entirely with your assessment as to who was responsible for this incident, but, with hindsight, there were not enough guards on the quarry. We relied too heavily on the prisoners' wounds. Take another half-file, and improve matters. Agathon, ask Nikostratos to come here and write some letters: I need to double the watch on the seawall. Archimedes…" The king hesitated. "Perhaps you'd care to stay to breakfast?"
Archimedes shook his head.
"Then, please, use my house as your own if you wish to rest a little and compose yourself before going home."
The guards escorted Marcus out. He went quietly, though his expression was one of shame and bewilderment, not at all appropriate to a man who has just heard that he is to be freed from slavery and returned to
his own people. Dionysios left with him, to rearrange the security for the quarry. The secretary Nikostratos came in to take Hieron's letters, and Archimedes went out into the garden. He was glad of a chance to rest and compose himself before venturing into the streets. He felt more shaken and confused by what had happened than he would have thought possible.
He was sitting beside the fountain, stirring the water with his fingers, when Delia came into the garden on her way to breakfast. She stopped short, her breath catching, and watched him a minute in silence.
Ever since Hieron had promised his exceptional engineer wealth and honor, something which she had dismissed as impossible had been insinuating itself to her as possible after all, and she had not known what to do. She was wretchedly aware that just because her brother wanted to keep Archimedes in Syracuse did not mean that he wanted to marry his own sister to a middle-class teacher's son. But a devious, untrustworthy part of her mind had begun to whisper to her that even though Hieron might not actually want her to make such a marriage, he would probably accept it if he had to- if, for example, she declared that she loved Archimedes, and Archimedes threatened to go off to Alexandria if Hieron refused his permission for the match.
Like the secret meetings, it was something she should never have contemplated. She owed her brother a political advantage from her wedding. He had given her a great many things, and that was all she had to give in return. And he deserved whatever advantages he could get. Hieron had taken a city shattered by the Pyrrhic Wars, a bankrupt city which had lost its fleet and its treasury, its citizens rebellious and its army mutinous, and he had made it strong and whole and prosperous again. That in itself was extraordinary enough, but to have done it without violence or injustice- that was an achievement unparalleled in the history of Syracuse. She knew what she ought to do; she'd known all along: tell Archimedes that they must not meet again, and resign herself to her fate. But when she thought of him, she had no resignation in her at all.
The Sand-Reckoner Page 28
