The Seven Hills

by John Maddox Roberts

  "Such institutions are probably necessary because the Romans have little natural, innate sense of dignity and civility. They must have these long-established guidelines to keep them civilized."

  Zeno laughed. "You always find some way to denigrate the Romans. Nothing they do ever impresses you."

  Izates considered this. "That is true. I am equally skeptical of the apparent virtues of Greeks and Jews. It is part of being a Cynic. Men are full of themselves, blown up with self-importance. It takes only a little thought to find the secret inadequacy behind their vauntings. Men have feet of clay."

  "Feet of what?" Zeno asked. Izates explained that the saying was from an ancient tale of his own people, about a brazen idol that rested upon feet of clay and how its weakness was exposed. Zeno protested that Izates' ancestors misunderstood the nature of the gods and their images, and Izates told him that he was missing the point. Their discussions frequently ended this way.

  Now, as they inspected the impromptu shipyard and training facility, Roman method, discipline and thoroughness were once again on full display.

  A small forest of masts had grown up along the shore, and men were engaged in hauling on ropes that erected these masts in artificial keels, then hauling long yards up the masts and unfurling the big, rectangular sails. Sailing masters shouted orders to the sweating sailors-in-training, making them swing the yards about so as to catch quartering winds. Experienced sailors conducted classes in how to tie the many knots required by seagoing craft.

  "These are skills ordinarily learned by every sailor when he goes to sea as a boy," Zeno said. "Here grown men are trained in vast numbers, just as newly recruited soldiers learn their trade in training camps. But, there is a difference." Here Zeno paused dramatically.

  "What might that be?" Izates wanted to know.

  "In training camps the Romans teach skills in which they are already expert. Here," he waved an arm, taking in the huge facility, "they are teaching a multitude of skills that they do not even possess themselves!"

  Izates looked at him blankly, then he turned slowly to scan the madmen's naval base. "This exceeds even a philosopher's tolerance for the absurd."

  "You need a capacity for wonder. And this is not their most improbable accomplishment of late. That rogue general of theirs has the Museum accomplishing marvels, if half the tales we've heard are true."

  Izates shuddered. "Philosophers behaving like mechanics! Disgusting! Speculations about the nature of matter and the properties of movement are quite proper. But this Roman has them actually building things! They should be stripped of the status of philosophers and degraded to that of mere workmen." He turned aside and spat.

  "But how can their ideas be verified without creating the machines and actually testing them?"

  "It is unworthy," Izates insisted. "They should content themselves with simply thinking about such things. To sully the purity of thought with the manipulation of gross matter is a desecration!"

  "Romans like to accomplish things, not just think about them. For a Cynic, you are notably respectful toward philosophical pretension."

  "A true Cynic respects only purity and virtue. All else is vanity."

  "And the supposed purity of philosophers is nothing but snobbery," Zeno said.

  "Snobbery?" Izates said in a quiet voice. "How does reverence for the purity of thought and logic translate into snobbery?"

  "It isn't purity to which most philosophers aspire," Zeno explained. "It's respectability. Most of them are impoverished men of less than noble background, and they want desperately to be accepted as peers of the aristocracy. That's why they can't stand the thought of philosophers getting their hands dirty."

  Izates peered narrowly at him. "Now it's you that sound like a Cynic."

  Zeno grinned. "I was born one. You had to study. Besides," he turned serious again, "think of it! They've built a boat that can take men beneath the water and back to the surface safely!"

  "And what have they accomplished thereby? They can see nothing because the boat is entirely sealed. They can stay underwater only a short time and merely risk drowning for nothing."

  "But it has never before been done by mortal men," Zeno protested.

  "Then it is novelty for the sake of novelty and therefore just a vulgar show, meant to impress the credulous mob."

  "No, it is meant to sink enemy ships and seems to have performed the task well."

  "Nonsense!" Izates performed one of the more common Greek rude noises. "Men have been sinking ships since before the time of Odysseus. The process is always much the same. Do the sailors drown more thoroughly because their ship was destroyed by an unseen craft? Does the ship sink more precipitately for being rammed by a submarine vessel?"

  "As I understand it, the sinkings were accomplished more by a sawing action than by ramming. Apparently, ramming is unadvisable in one of these ships. It makes even the usual galleys leak, and this might be disastrous when you are submerged already."

  "That is rank sophistry and unworthy of you. Military toys!" Izates grumped. "As if the old-fashioned methods of mutual extermination were not lethal enough already. Demetrius Poliorcetes loved to play with such grotesque machines and whatever became of him?"

  "Not all the new inventions of the Archimedean school are military in nature," Zeno said. "There are men experimenting with mirrors and lenses who say they can vastly improve our study of the stars and heavenly bodies."

  "Well, I suppose that is proper," Izates admitted grudgingly. He was keenly interested in astronomy. "As long as they leave the manufacture of these new instruments to craftsmen, and confine themselves to making observations and speculating upon them. I am skeptical of how much help these instruments shall prove, anyway. Our ancestors did well enough with only their own two eyes. How much does making a star seem bigger tell us? Their courses will remain the same. Their place in the heavens will be unchanged. The rising and setting of the major constellations will occur with the same regularity as was observed by the astronomers of Babylon and Egypt thousands of years ago."

  "But look at this!" Zeno said with a note of triumph that Izates recognized. His friend had been leading up to this all along.

  "You've set an ambush for me," he grumbled.

  Zeno drew a folded papyrus from the pouch at his waist. "This came from our friend Gabinius. It was among the most recent reports from Marcus Scipio to the Senate. Gabinius says that it is a mystery to him, but that we might find it amusing." He unfolded it portentously and began to read.

  "Among the intriguing new developments are those of the Cypriote, Agathocles. I have written of him before: He is the experimenter with mirrors, who invented the device for observing around corners and over walls. This device proved very useful on the underwater boats.

  "His newest creations involve parabolic mirrors and lenses of finely ground glass, which by some seemingly magical property cause distant objects to appear closer. He has used some of these devices to study the stars and the moon, and the astronomers who have looked through these things have been astonished. They say that, not only do the stars appear nearer, but they can actually see more stars than are visible to our eyes alone. Agathocles says that he is frustrated by the impurities and other imperfections in his lenses, and works feverishly with his Babylonian glass workers to create clearer, more refined glass and finer grinding and polishing agents to perfect his lenses.

  "I am sure that these things must have some sort of military application. Reconnaissance, both at sea and on land, comes to mind. I shall set Agathocles to work devising small, portable viewing devices."

  Zeno refolded the parchment. "What do you think of that?"

  Izates looked stunned. "Can this be possible?" he said, the sneer for once gone from his voice. "Not the device— we've all seen how reflective surfaces distort, so why not control the distortion to magnify? No, I mean, can it be true that there are more stars in Heaven than we can see?"

  "No sense pondering on an empty stomach," Zeno s
aid, pleased at having stunned his friend for once.

  Numerous hawkers had set up booths around the military facility, and they went to one such and purchased bread, cheese, fruit and large cups of wine. They took these to a stone jetty and sat on its rim, their feet dangling over the water, while they munched, drank and talked over the implications of this unprecedented news.

  "From the earliest days of rational thought," Izates said, "it has been believed that we could understand the world by looking at it and analyzing what we see. But if this man Agathocles is correct, if his magnifying devices show what is truly there, then it means that there are things in the cosmos that we cannot see!"

  "That seems clear," Izates agreed.

  "And if this is true of the visible world, what of the world as perceived by our other senses? Are there sounds we cannot hear? Are there objects all around us that we cannot feel?"

  "I see no reason why this may not be the case," Izates said.

  "Consider: A man with only slightly defective vision cannot see many things that those of us with clear vision can. That does not mean those things are not there, merely that he can't see them. We cannot see the wind, but we can feel it and we can hear it. We know that dogs can detect scents our own noses are not keen enough for, and they often seem to hear sounds when we hear nothing at all."

  Izates nodded. "Quite so, quite so. There may be a whole invisible cosmos out there, previously unsuspected. Perhaps you are right, and we philosophers in our vanity have assumed upon an imperfect base of knowledge."

  "This is a rather sudden shift of view," Zeno noted.

  "A Cynic only needs his bottom kicked once to know that he has been kicked. One learns to understand the world as it is presented, not as an ideal dreamed up by a poet." He took a long drink, draining his cup, then he set it down. "Well. It is time for us to be going."

  "Going? Where?"

  "To Alexandria, of course! That is where the new world of philosophy is taking shape. Why should we want to be anywhere else?"

  "But we came here to study the resurgence of Rome!"

  Zeno protested.

  "Part of that resurgence is taking place right now, in Alexandria. And it may well prove to be the most important part. Think of Alexander. His empire did not outlast his final breath, but he spread Greek culture throughout the world. These soldierly oafs may soon be forgotten, but it may be that they have, all unwitting, changed the nature of philosophy, which is a far greater wonder than any conquest. Come along. Gabinius will give us letters of introduction to this Scipio fellow. I know plenty of people in the Museum. You want to be a great historian? We'll be at the center of history!"

  CHAPTER SIX

  "A walking ship?" Selene looked from one Roman to the other. Their expressions seemed earnest. "I can see that I have stayed away from the Museum too long. Does a ship that walks have some advantage over the more familiar sort that sails or is rowed?" She hoped for some equally ironic response, but they seemed to consider her question seriously. Irony, she had learned, was a subtlety beyond the ken of the Romans. And as for humor—she almost shuddered—what struck the Romans as funny struck most people with horror.

  "It doesn't exactly walk," Marcus Scipio said. "In fact, it is more of a rotary motion, rather hard to describe, really—"

  "Perhaps," Flaccus said, "a demonstration is in order." Like Scipio, Flaccus was a senator, one with a more literary bent than his friend. The other Romans considered Flaccus lazy and lacking in martial vigor. Only a Roman would have considered him so. With her own eyes Selene had on one occasion seen him kill four enemies with six swift strokes of his short sword. Marcus had upbraided him for the two wasted strokes.

  "Yes," she sighed, "a demonstration." The philosophers of the Archimedean school, who had risen from obscurity to preeminence with the arrival of the Romans, dearly loved to show off their new toys.

  They trooped from the palace and entered the huge royal litter, which carried them the short distance down to the royal harbor. Since her last visit, a new ship had arrived. It certainly looked strange, with the bizarre addition of wheels to its sides, but how such a thing could walk escaped her. She saw also that it was equipped with the new, single steering oar mounted at the extreme end of the stern, instead of the pair pivoted at its sides in the familiar fashion.

  At the wharf they descended from the litter and boarded the ship by way of its extra-long gangplank. The addition of the huge side wheels meant that the ship itself could not directly abut the stone wharf. The main deck of the vessel was as unconventional as the rest. It was very narrow, in order to make room for immense, inboard wheels that corresponded to those on the outside of the ship. These wheels were hollow frameworks, and they contained men.

  "I confess," Selene said, "to utter mystification."

  A man in a philosopher s ragged tunic came forward, his face wreathed in that self-satisfied smile she had come to know so well. He bowed and waited to be addressed.

  "Good afternoon, Chilo," said the queen. "What new miracle have you to show me today?"

  "As so often, my queen," he said, "there is little new about it. It is a novel application for the common water-raising wheel used in irrigation operations."

  "I had noticed the resemblance," she said. "Why one needs irrigation wheels on a ship is not obvious."

  "It has to do with our researches into the properties of energy," he said earnestly. "There is a relationship between force exerted in one direction and another force, or perhaps the same force, in another direction. We feel that there is a principle—"

  "Quite fascinating, I am sure," the queen interrupted. "You must be sure to tell me all about it when you have it all figured out. In the meantime, if you could just show me how wheels benefit a ship?"

  "Of course, Majesty, of course. Well, the outer structure is not precisely a wheel. I have termed it a 'rotary oar.' You see the boards protruding from its perimeter? These are paddles, and they perform the same function as a conventional oar, except that they work in a vertical plane, instead of the horizontal, or, rather the elliptical-horizontal plane of an oar."

  "Chilo," Scipio said, "why not just get it moving? The principle of the thing will be instantly appreciable to Her Majesty then."

  "I suppose so," Chilo said, disappointed.

  "Now he'll sulk," Selene said when the philosopher went off to give his orders to the crew. "There is nothing sadder than a philosopher cheated of a chance to lecture."

  Among the ship's petty officers there was a barking of orders and a popping of whips, and a piper began to play a rhythmic tune on his double flute. Within the inboard wheels, men began climbing rungs as if ascending a ladder. The outboard wheels started to turn, churning the water. The ship commenced a slow movement. It drew away from the wharf and moved out into the harbor amid a great creaking of machinery.

  "You see," Chilo explained, "the vertical motion of the slaves climbing is transformed into the rotary motion of the inboard wheel turning. This is in turn transmitted to the outboard wheel, causing the paddles to push against the water, propelling the ship forward. By turning around and climbing the rear of the wheel, the slaves can cause the ship to move backward. Direction can be controlled by causing one wheel to move more slowly than the other, and the steering oar can be used for minor corrections. By working the wheels in opposite directions, the ship can spin quickly on its axis."

  "Very ingenious," the queen allowed. "But oared ships can do all these things, and have for centuries. What is the advantage of these wheels?"

  "There are several," Marcus Scipio informed her. "In the first place, you need far fewer slaves to turn these wheels than to man oars. A ship this size would require at least three hundred, with plenty of relief rowers. Thirty or forty slaves are all you need to man these wheels. They eat far less and that makes for longer voyages."

  "And," said Flaccus, "rowers must be highly skilled. They are expensive and are not replaced easily. Totally, unskilled slaves and convicts can tu
rn these wheels. Nothing is required except for a sound pair of legs."

  "They can't be deaf," Marcus pointed out. "They have to be able to hear the flute."

  Flaccus nodded. "That is true."

  "If a wheel is damaged in battle," Selene pointed out, "it wouldn't be easy to replace, not like a damaged oar."

  "This vessel is a prototype built to test the design," Chilo said. "For a warship, the wheels will have armored cowlings. Only the part that actually touches the water need be exposed." He looked at her expectantly.

  "Very well," she said at last, "you may proceed with this project. What is the next phase?"

  "Trials on the open sea, Your Majesty," Chilo told her. "These can proceed immediately, with this experimental vessel. Upon successful conclusion, a full-sized armed and manned warship will be built and tested. If all goes well, as I am sure it will, a flotilla will be constructed and deployed."

  "The ultimate test will be battle," Scipio said. "If the wheeled ships prove to be more effective in battle, as well as cheaper and less wasteful of manpower, then we will convert entirely to the new system."

  "Your Senate may be displeased to hear of it," she said, smiling. "I hear that they are even now building a fleet on the old model, and taking a great deal of trouble to train rowers."

  "They'll adapt," he said. "We are an adaptable people."

  That evening the two Romans dined with the queen on a palace terrace overlooking the beautiful little royal harbor with its jewel-like artificial island. Just to the west, they could see the huge double harbor of Alexandria, divided by the immense Heptastadion Bridge connecting the Pharos to the.mainland. On the eastern end of Pharos towered the incomparable lighthouse.

  All this, Selene thought, was hers. Alexandria, the most glorious city in the world. And this city was only the crowning gem among her possessions. She owned all of Egypt, from the Delta, which contained the richest farmlands in the world, all the way down the immense river and beyond the quarries near the First Cataract, where the market of the Elephantine Island received all the exotic goods of the continent to the south, such as the ivory that gave the island its name, wonderful feathers and the pelts of beautiful animals, and the animals themselves: lions, cheetahs, apes, birds. There were woods for tree-poor Egypt, dye-stuffs, spices and endless coffles of black slaves from the interior to work the farms and quarries of Egypt and to be sold abroad, where they commanded high prices for their exotic looks, so different from common, pale-skinned slaves.