by Tom Pollack
CHAPTER 41
Babylon, 465–323 BC
TO HIS SURPRISE, CAIN’S jail cell was so spacious as to be almost comfortable. Located at the top of one of the hundreds of towers in Babylon, the cell enjoyed a splendid view of the city. Through a large barred window, Cain could clearly see the Hanging Gardens, the lush and legendary wonder of the world built by King Nebuchadnezzar over two hundred years before.
The emperor had given strict orders, which were inscribed on a bronze plaque placed on the wall outside the cell door. The prisoner was to be left alone inside the cell. Twice a day, he would be given food and water, passed through a small opening in the one-foot-thick, metal-reinforced wooden door. The cell would be opened only on the express order of the emperor, who personally retained possession of the key.
Cain reflected on his predicament. True, Artaxerxes had deprived him of his liberty. But the emperor’s arrangements also meant that Cain had little to worry about. His food and shelter were provided for, and imprisonment ensured that Cain would not have to participate again in military conflicts such as the Battle at Salamis. Dryly, he reflected that, in contrast to Artaxerxes, time was on his side. He could break the routine of solitary confinement by reliving his memories of more pleasant episodes in his life, such as his beer venture in Egypt and his idyll with Tanith. And the cell was flooded with air and light, with spacious limestone walls perfect for etching or drawing designs.
Thus, when a messenger from Artaxerxes arrived exactly one year later to ask Cain if he had changed his mind, the prisoner said no. And Cain’s answer remained the same the next year and the year after that.
***
One year, the messengers stopped coming.
That was not the end of his human contact, however. Although he could not see their faces, Cain had befriended many of the young day jailers who guarded the cells in the tower. They informed him that the cell he occupied was intended for enemy generals—leaders whom the emperor regarded as precious commodities and potential allies. This gave Cain a certain status in the jailers’ eyes. They told him of military conquests and foreign developments—in particular of a great war in Greece that pitted the Spartans against the Athenians. They also told him that the reason no messenger had come from court was that the king had died.
This news caused Cain to wonder what fate might await him at the hands of Artaxerxes’s successor. But there was no change in the prison arrangements. According to the day jailers, the new king, who took the name Darius II, was intensely focused on the Peloponnesian War in Greece, following a policy first of aiding the Athenians and then the Spartans. For more than a century now, Cain thought, the mightiest empire on earth has been obsessed with a small collection of independent city-states.
“The war has spread to Sicily,” a jailer told the prisoner one day.
“It goes well for the Athenians?” Cain inquired.
“Oh, no, Agathon, the Athenians have suffered a stinging defeat in the harbor at Syracuse. Hundreds of their ships are lost. The effects on Athens will be devastating.”
Cain thought wistfully of another time, of another Athens. Accustomed to being free to participate in the course of human events, his only freedom now lay in his mind.
***
A night jailer who called himself Cyrus had shown a particular interest in befriending Cain. The jailer had, in fact, offered to furnish the prisoner with writing tools, carving supplies, and candles. The offer raised Cain’s suspicions, since passing anything except food and water through the slender opening in the door would most likely be frowned on by the authorities. But Cain was brimming with ideas for new designs. In particular, he wanted to explore developing a mechanical reaper to improve agricultural output, a peacetime counterpart to the horrendous war machine he had created for Themistocles before Salamis.
All the night jailer asked for in return for his good offices was information about what Cain was writing on papyrus and drawing on the walls of his cell.
“You are said to be a masterful designer,” came the disembodied voice from beyond the door one night.
“And who compliments me thus?” Cain inquired.
“I have many contacts at court, Agathon. They tell me you are a wizard at war machines. What specific offensive weapons have you invented?”
The man was a bit too curious for a run-of-the-mill jailer on the night shift, and how could a mere jailer boast of contacts at court? Cain was on his guard. Perhaps this was a spy sent by the emperor.
“I don’t know what you mean, Cyrus,” he replied disingenuously. “But with the benefit of your supplies, I may be able to develop something promising.”
“By all means, you may count on me. But be sure you describe for me the drawings you create on the walls. I am most interested in your plans.” As Cain stood up from the small opening through which they were conversing, another possibility crossed his mind.
Was Cyrus the master of spirits?
Although he couldn’t answer the question definitively, Cain’s suspicions grew as the years passed. He used the supplies conveyed to him by the night jailer for purely beneficial projects—the mechanical reaper, for example, as well as refining the design for his geared navigational timing device. But the night jailer seemed interested only in weaponry.
It was also odd that, as the decades passed and night jailers came and went, one of the guards claimed that he was the son of a former night jailer who had died. Although Cain had to admit that the voices of “father” and “son” were somewhat different, he was unconvinced. He had, as he well remembered, employed the same ruse to disguise his true identity in Egypt.
As he weighed the motivations of those who guarded him by night, Cain decided on a test.
“I have devised a formula for creating an explosive powder made of natural minerals. The ingredients won’t be easy to find, and they must be combined in proper proportions,” Cain whispered through the two-way portal.
“And what will you use the powder for?” came the reply.
“I am working on my designs for an arrow launcher,” Cain improvised. “I want to enhance the propulsive power. I’ll need saltpeter crystals distilled from bat guano, and sulfur. Also some charcoal. But the sulfur needs to be freshly extracted from the mines in Sicily. The best quality.”
“Splendid, prisoner. And what will we call our new mixture?”
“I’ve been more focused on the formula itself than the name. For now, I suppose the label ‘black powder’ would be apt,” Cain replied.
When all the materials were passed through the small opening a mere two nights later, Cain concluded that he was indeed dealing with the master of spirits. He resolved to become more circumspect in his conversations from now on.
***
His day jailers kept him informed about events in the wider world. The rosters of these guards rotated frequently, as jail duty was limited to one year, after which the young conscripts were sent off to battle. But none of them seemed curious about the longevity of their prisoner. As far as they were concerned, they were being paid to slide sustenance through a small opening, share some innocuous conversation, and little else.
One day an especially loquacious young guard told of a new threat to the empire.
“They say that King Philip of Macedon is planning an invasion of Persia,” he informed Cain.
“What chance of success could such an invader possibly have?” asked the prisoner.
“No chance at all, in my opinion. The emperor will defeat him soundly.”
The guard refrained from further comment on the matter, but Cain knew from other jailers that Persia’s current monarch, Artaxerxes III, had come to the throne after plotting the assassination of eight of his half brothers.
“Agathon, did you know that my commander cannot find any records relating to your imprisonment here?”
“That’s strange. Has there been some confusion?”
“Our detachment has been assigned to this tower only recently, and t
he commander was looking for verification of each inmate’s original date of incarceration. But it seems that all your records have disappeared. We have no idea how this could have happened. But the emperor has not reversed the orders on the plaque outside your cell. So at least you know that you won’t be moving soon!”
Unseen inside his cell, Cain smiled at the young man’s naïveté.
That evening, shortly after sunset, the master of spirits appeared. He assumed an amorphous, dark shape in the corner of Cain’s cell.
“You are so comfortable, Cain? The Persians do not possess unlimited patience, my friend. Sooner or later they will force you to reveal your secrets, if only so that they can defeat Philip of Macedon. And consider this also. For the moment, I have concealed your prison records. But if the Persians should find and examine them, they may discover the secret of your longevity.”
The prisoner ignored the veiled threat. “Where do you come from, spirit?”
“Oh, I am never far from you. I go to and fro on the earth, and walk up and down.”
Cain was repelled by the nonchalant, almost jaunty tone.
“And you are happy, spirit, in your quest to wreak woe upon human beings?”
“You misinterpret me entirely. My own happiness is immaterial. I only seek to spread pleasure and share benefit. Right here and now, I offer you relief—an escape from this prison before the Persians can injure you further. You know what they are capable of, I presume?”
Cain remained silent.
The master of spirits continued. “As self-professed lovers of the truth, their treatment of liars is most unpleasant, Cain. One Persian soldier was recently accused of slandering the emperor. His punishment was to be stretched out between two troughs, one below his body and one above, and force-fed with delicacies and milk mixed with honey. Only his head and his feet remained visible. Unable to move, he was attacked by flies that swarmed over his face. Inside the troughs, his excrement began to attract worms and maggots. After seventeen days of exquisite suffering, he died. When the top covering was lifted, the onlookers could see that his flesh had been eaten away.”
Even though he knew this was blackmail, Cain felt himself growing numb.
“They could easily inflict the same torture on you, Cain. Except you wouldn’t die, would you?” said the master of spirits.
“What would you have me do, spirit?” Cain burst out angrily.
“Swear allegiance to me, not to the Persians. I will arrange for your release.”
“Depart from me, evil one. You will never have my allegiance!”
The dark shape in the corner vanished. What remained after the spirit’s departure was an unnerving tableau acted out repeatedly in Cain’s mind, dominated by the wrenching spectacle of the Persian soldier, his vitals destroyed by his truth-loving compatriots.
***
“He has brought peace to the world!” a day jailer reported.
Cain’s ears perked up.
“Alexander is a great ruler, Agathon!” the young guard gushed. “Although he threatens my country, some of us wonder if he would not be a better king for us. Alexander has already vanquished the cities of Susa and Persepolis.”
Cain was astonished. The cities he had named were, besides Babylon, the most important metropolitan centers in the Persian Empire.
“What else has this leader Alexander accomplished, other than conquest in battle?”
“It is said that he has great plans for a worldwide capital in Egypt. The city will be known as Alexandria. Two of its monuments will be wonders of the world, as surely as our Hanging Gardens here in Babylon. In the harbor, there will be a lighthouse that soars higher than any other on the inland sea. And in the city itself, there will be a great library, a glorious temple of knowledge gathered by all humanity and a center for scholars from every corner of the world.”
“How can this commander hope to construct such magnificent public works?” Cain asked with keen interest.
“For Alexander, such a goal will not be difficult. His wealth is boundless. He is on the brink of becoming master of the known world!”
From that day on, Cain’s attitude toward his imprisonment changed. Originally stoic and passive, with ambition drained by a sense of detachment and relief, he was now consumed by a new passion for release. By day and by night, dreams of Alexandria fired his brain. The tempo of his wall designs quickened, as he sketched mathematical formulas and the blueprint of a great telescope to study the constellations. He envisioned learned colloquies with the scholars who congregated from every part of the world at Alexandria. He wanted—no, he needed—to be a participant in this remarkable new turn in the trajectory of human civilization.
Accordingly, he began a series of blatant appeals to his guards, using a range of blandishments. To one of the day jailers, he alluded casually to the location of buried treasure in Egypt. Cain had miscalculated. The young man reacted with shock and then threatened reprisal. To another, he hinted of diamonds and other precious gems as big as a man’s fist. To no avail. And to the captain of the day contingent, Cain spoke casually of the silver deposits he had identified in Greece. Not interested. Reluctantly, Cain had to admit that these Persian jailers cherished duty and integrity. The one thing he would not do, however, was to mortgage his liberty to the master of spirits.
The jailers’ integrity, however, soon became a moot point. Babylon fell to Alexander the Great in 331 BC. Eight years later, in mid-June of 323 BC, the conqueror succumbed to fever there at the age of thirty-two, breathing his last in the great palace of Nebuchadnezzar. Bells rang and shrieks of wailing echoed throughout the city. While Alexander’s generals converged to divide the spoils, all of Babylon’s nonviolent prisoners were ordered to be released, Cain among them. Abandoning the as yet unsuccessful black powder project, he dumped the ingredients down the cell’s refuse chute so they would not be found. Two Greek soldiers unlocked the cell, using a key brittle with the rust of time.
Exiting the prison tower, Cain strolled toward the Euphrates River and breathed, for the first time in nearly a century and a half, the fresh air of freedom.
CHAPTER 42
Alexandria, Egypt, 285–250 BC
SOON AFTER THE TURN of the third century BC, Cain received news that the Royal Library at Alexandria was nearing completion. A showcase for the city, the library enjoyed the direct patronage of King Ptolemy I, who had adopted the popular name Soter, Greek for “savior.” As one of Alexander’s three most senior surviving generals, Ptolemy possessed by far the most lucrative portion of the empire. The fertile lands and ample tax revenues of Egypt boosted Alexandria to worldwide prominence at an explosive rate.
Cain had secured full-time employment at the Royal Observatory of Babylon, but he was only marking time until the Great Library beckoned. At last, the moment was ripe for his return to Egypt. He booked passage on a caravan on the Royal Road through Asia Minor to Ephesus. From there it would be a leisurely voyage on the Mediterranean to Alexandria. He had no idea what sights would greet him, but his thirst for a journey of the mind was as strong as ever.
He arrived at Alexandria in the spring of 285 BC. What he saw astounded him. Since his last visit long ago, when Alexandria was an obscure fishing village, both harbor and city had undergone massive improvements. As he rode on horseback around the city, he admired the majestic civic buildings. Huge stoas, or colonnaded covered walkways, surrounded a vast marketplace on all sides. The city wall divided the residential areas from Lake Mareotis and the canal that stretched to the Nile. Alexandria boasted no fewer than six gymnasia, each with its attached palaestra, or wrestling practice ground. Cain marveled at the degree to which Greek architecture had become rooted on Egyptian soil.
The jewel in the city’s crown was the library, its prominence signaled by its location adjacent to Ptolemy’s royal palace. The library was an adjunct to the Mouseion, the think tank that Ptoelmy had established for scholars from all over the world. This institute for advanced study had attr
acted experts in every field, ranging from literary and textual criticism to geography, history, anatomy, geometry, and physics. The convergence of these savants in Alexandria had vaulted the city into the top tier of learning and made it the new Athens.
From Zenodotus, the head librarian, Cain learned that the library’s first major project was to establish definitive, standard texts of Homer’s Iliad and Odyssey. Identifying himself as Callias, an elderly scholar, Cain had used his credentials from the observatory in Babylon as an entrée, and Zenodotus had welcomed him courteously. As the two men strolled down a spacious, colonnaded stoa, lined with marble statues of Greek gods and punctuated by smaller rooms leading off to one side, Cain asked about the library’s acquisitions policy.
“As you have seen,” said Zenodotus, “more and more people are traveling here, some to settle permanently. We encourage book donations. Sometimes, these are not entirely voluntary.”
Raising his eyebrows, Cain asked for clarification. Gesturing toward a narrower stoa that stretched down toward the harbor, Zenodotus explained, “That is the acquisitions wing. Every ship that docks here is inspected by His Majesty’s harbor police. The books that are found aboard are brought here for copying.” He lowered his voice and added, conspiratorially, “Of course, sometimes it is the copies that are returned, not the originals.”
Cain smiled. “It is the King’s goal, then, to amass a universal collection?”
“Exactly. We have everything in our collections from medical texts to accounts of ancient foreign wars to the works of Plato and Aristotle,” the head librarian said proudly.
Zenodotus invited his visitor to examine some of the library’s holdings, and they made a detour from the main stoa into one of the smaller rooms. There, on shelves that lined the chamber from floor to ceiling, were hundreds of papyrus rolls, neatly stacked in compartments. At the end of each roll facing outward was an identifying tab.
