The three men straightened their backs in unison, ready to strike like cobras. It appeared to Archimedes that they may not want to hear any more about his machine. He meekly moved back to his end of the table, taking his earth, moon, and gears with him.
Across the dining room, Callimachus entered and moved gracefully among the diners. He did not seem to walk as much as float. His long white tunic went all the way to the floor and covered his feet. The effect was that he moved as if he had wheels instead of legs. He would occasionally stop and greet some men, have a quick discussion with older teachers, or nod at an acquaintance across the hall.
The three teachers stopped him and gave an animated gesture toward Archimedes. Callimachus only raised his eyebrow before finally coming up to Archimedes.
“Good morning Archimedes. Did Hypnos visit you?” Callimachus asked.
“I slept very well, thank you sir,” Archimedes said.
“Oh, no, I didn’t mean the god of sleep. I was referring to my cat, Hypnos. He has an affinity for warm beds,” Callimachus said.
“Yes master, he was with me.”
“You need only refer to me as Callimachus. I am neither master nor servant,” He said as he knelt down and scratched Hypnos’s ear. “He is an Egyptian Mau, which is the only breed that is spotted, like a leopard. I bought him at the marketplace.” Callimachus stood back up. “That is where I’d like to start your tour of Alexandria. First we will visit the marketplace so you know the city better. Then we will return here to escape the afternoon sun and acquaint you with the library and school.”
The marketplace! That is exactly what Archimedes was hoping to hear. There was still a question lingering in his mind.
“If I may ask Callimachus, about yesterday, how were you able to chase away a priest? I thought Egyptian priests wielded nearly as much power as the Pharaoh himself.”
“You are right, Archimedes. We do.”
“We?” Archimedes thought he misheard.
“I am the epistates of the school and library, appointed by Pharaoh Ptolemy himself. The school is officially a religious institution, and therefore I am the priest.” Callimachus spoke in his even, tempered voice.
Archimedes swallowed, he wasn’t sure if he should ask the next question.
“And Ajax?”
“He is a veteran of many wars who needed a quiet place for retirement,” Callimachus said. “The school and library hold priceless treasures, the students not the least among them, and Ajax makes sure they stay secure. Even though he suffered many injuries in battle, he seems to miss the life of a soldier and longs for greater challenges than the quiet life we offer here.”
Chapter 11
The marketplace was a jungle of trade and only hearty or foolish explorers would enter it without an experienced guide. How Callimachus was able to move through the crowd in his leisurely, measured pace without being battered by boxes, Archimedes wasn’t sure.
The people that flowed around Callimachus converged on Archimedes in an irritating tangle of people and products. It reminded him of the docks without the awful smells. Instead, the boisterous marketplace was a complex concoction of fragrance, color, movement, and music.
One blind sailor was playing a haunting tune on a bone flute, hoping for the clink of a coin in his cup. Nearby, a woman was dancing to the sounds of a harp. Splashes of gaudy paint on her eyes and lips did their best to delay the advance of time.
A dark woman in a darker robe speaking a strange tongue was peddling minute carved figures of people. Another booth displayed dozens of orange, red, and yellow spices in copper bowls, radiating a pungent aroma that reminded Archimedes to visit Farrokh in the next couple of days.
A filthy child ran up to Archimedes with his hand out, waited a moment, and then dashed off to a more tempting target. “Stay close, Archimedes, the marketplace is safe, but there are the unscrupulous who prey on the innocent,” Callimachus said.
They went past a few more stalls before Callimachus stopped. “Here is a perfect example of the chicken paying to be caught by the fox. Watch how easily the foolish are duped by anyone claiming to be a conjurer or magician.”
Along a crumbling wall was a man wearing a robe similar to Farrokh’s, pacing around a girl seated in a chair. The girl, nearly a woman, looked dazed with dark circles under wide eyes staring straight ahead. Archimedes wondered if she would go blind from the sun if she didn’t blink soon. She wore a robe like the man and Archimedes guessed she was his daughter.
“Who wants to know their future?” The performer called out. “What are you willing to pay to know what treasure tomorrow holds while your neighbors toil in the present? All you need do is ask, and the enchantress Sheeva, priestess of the gods, the one whose eyes see into the next sunrise, will tell everything you need to know!”
The girl seemed to take no notice of the crowd or heat. Finally a weathered, older man walked up and handed a coin to the performer, who checked both sides of the coin and said, “Ask and listen closely.”
The older man cleared his throat before asking, “My son, he is so young, is sick. Will he…” the man choked up for a moment before a young man, perhaps another son, came and put his hand on the older man’s shoulder. The older man continued, “Will he live?”
The girl sat motionless and the crowd grew quiet, leaning in. Suddenly she dropped her head almost to her lap, then quickly raised it with the same wild look in her eyes. “Who can question the gods? Who knows their ways?”
She stopped speaking and the man looked pleadingly at the performer, who held up his hand telling him to wait. The girl began making guttural sounds, as if she needed to purge a great pain, and then continued. “In two weeks time, when the barley begins to color, the harvesting will begin. The gods harvest too, and look for the worthy to reap.”
The older man began weeping, and the young man consoling him had to hold him up. The crowd let out a sigh of despair, interpreting what reaping the grains could mean. The girl let out another, louder, sound, instantly quieting the crowd, and she continued, “But I see a young boy leaving his bed. He will be the harvester and not the harvest.”
The older man stepped up and kneeled in front of the girl. “Do you mean he lives? The gods will spare my son?” He was nearly inconsolable.
The performer then went over and helped the man to his feet. “You heard what she said. It is important to listen carefully. Who is next?”
The older man, smiling broadly, turned to the crowd. “She said he will live! My son will join me in the fields!” The two men went back through the crowd, with people slapping him on the shoulder. As the crowd dispersed, the performer began calling out for the next person to have their fortune told, while the young girl, oblivious to the commotion, sat staring forward.
Callimachus pulled Archimedes out of the sun and into the shade of a nearby stall. “What do you make of her abilities, Archimedes? Is she a conduit to the gods? Did the man get his money’s worth?”
Archimedes looked in the direction of the departing older man and then scrutinized the haunted girl, sitting as lifeless as the statues in the school’s park. “She is only an actress, trained to tell people what they want to hear.”
“Correct,” Callimachus said. “No sensible person would pay a young girl to talk when they gladly do it without any prompting. However, there is a spark of interest in a girl who speaks in riddles and makes unnatural noises. She goes into a trance and makes the man wait for an answer, which is no answer at all. The crowd is entertained, he hears what he wants and the woman is paid for her storytelling.”
Farrokh had said nearly the same thing about making money by telling buyers what they want to hear. Can’t people just keep their money and make their own sensible decisions? The marketplace apparently sold hope along with goats and trinkets.
“Are there any shops that sell tools or chemicals?” Archimedes asked.
“Up the street is a unique shop,” Callimachus said. “However, I’ve never purchased an
ything there as I don’t have any interest in mechanics. My specialty is books.”
The shop was tucked back into the wall, with only a weathered green awning in front to show it was open. Archimedes passed the old tools laying on the ground and walked up to a man’s fat face poking through the window.
“I’m interested in seeing any unusual or new items you have related to mechanics or alchemy,” Archimedes said.
Fat face didn’t reply, he only disappeared into the shadows of the shop and returned with several dark bottles. He opened the first one and Archimedes was buffeted with a horrendous egg smell.
“Ugh, sulfur, I already have it,” Archimedes said. “Cap it, quick.”
Next he opened a bottle only a little less offensive than the sulfur. “What is that?” Archimedes wrinkled his nose.
“Lion urine,” fat face said. “It cures any illness and makes you strong. Only 10 drachmas.”
“You pee in a jar and expect me to buy it?” Archimedes said. “Don’t insult me.”
“Humph,” big face was the one who seemed offended. He brought out a bowl with a black hunk of goo in it. It had a glossy sheen and smelled like oil. “Here is an exceptional substance. It comes all the way from ancient Mesopotamia. They call it moom, where the word mummy comes from because it is used in mummification.”
“I’ve heard of it,” Archimedes said. “It was also used as a mortar for the walls of Babylon.”
“Not only that,” the big face said, “when heated it is wedged into the cracks of ships to make them watertight. And if it is heated sufficiently, it burns better and longer than wood.” Like thick clay, he scraped off a small lump with a stick and lit it. After several moments it caught fire, but gave off a thick, black smoke.
“It’s a glue, it’s malleable, and it burns,” Archimedes said. “I’ll take it.”
The sun continued its resolute climb and Callimachus suggested getting something to eat. At one stall Archimedes saw dried fish hanging from a long stick like brown leaves on a branch, except these leaves still had their heads and eyes.
“Excuse me, sir,” Archimedes said. “What are those and what do they cost?”
The fish monger finished an argument with his wife before attending to Archimedes. “These? Tilapia, dried fish. Salted and spiced with pepper. Very good, fresh, not like some of the offal the others hawk. I sell them all day for 2 obols, but for a fine young man like you, only one obol.” The man was already removing one from the stick by tearing the gill, so Archimedes pulled out one obol and set it on the counter. The man quickly started a new argument with his passive wife.
As Archimedes took a small bite of the oily fish, he noticed a small commotion to his right. A guard with two large baboons on leashes barged through the crowd. The guard was leaning back to offset the pulling and his arm was twitching from the two baboons constantly moving, sniffing, giving short howls, and trying to wrench themselves free to inspect food or people.
“What an odd choice for pets,” Archimedes said.
Callimachus chuckled. “They do make horrible pets, but great police animals. The guards use them to help patrol the marketplace. Baboons are aggressive and bite like dogs, but unlike dogs, they can climb and grasp things. The thieves fear them more than the guards.”
Just then the smaller of the two baboons turned on Archimedes. It opened its mouth wide to bare long, vicious fangs and howled. The guard yanked back hard on the leash, but the baboon didn’t budge and continued howling at Archimedes. He twisted away from the aggressive baboon and watched the taunt leash closely, praying it would hold.
“Give it your fish,” the guard yelled. “Just throw it to him and he’ll leave you alone.”
Archimedes hesitated because he didn’t like the idea of paying a bribe to something that was supposed to provide protection. He was about to relent when someone called out, “Thief! Come back! Guard, thief!”
All three, the guard and two baboons, spun toward the direction of the yelling. The guard released the leashes and the two baboons took off down the road, one jumping up and running across the stalls and the other howling and scampering on all four legs.
Archimedes watched them disappear down the road and he exhaled deeply. He looked at his meal but there was only the vacant fish eyes looking back. In his panic he had squeezed the fish too hard and the body crumbled into the dirt. Along came the same begging child from before who picked up the piece of fish, brushed off some dirt, and popped it in his mouth.
“I think you got a taste of what the marketplace offers,” Callimachus said. “We still have some time before it gets too hot. There is one more place I’d like to take you before we go back to the library, and the guards there don’t bite.”
The tomb of Alexander the Great was a few blocks away in a quieter area of Alexandria. Surprisingly, it was a small building, but elaborately designed, with traditional Greek columns fronting a square, two-story building influenced by Egyptian architecture. The only sign that it held something of great value was the guards patrolling outside.
The Medjay were a special military force separate from the regular army. They were highly trained and guarded Egyptian royalty, either living or dead.
“Inside rests the body of a man who at one time ruled the known world, from Greece to India,” Callimachus said. “He fought countless armies, never lost a battle, and yet died from a fever in Babylon. A powerful king reduced to a sweating invalid.”
“Can we go inside?” Archimedes asked.
“Only the royal family is allowed inside,” Callimachus said. “You can see there is only one small door, so it is easier to guard. However, due to the lighthouse murders, there are fewer guards patrolling the tomb. Pharaoh Ptolemy has sent many of them to either guard the workers or search for the killer.”
“Why is it so heavily protected? Why is only the royal family allowed inside?” Archimedes asked.
“The body of Alexander is more than a mummy. It is a symbol that authorizes Pharaoh Ptolemy to sit on the throne of Egypt. Remember, the Ptolemys are Greek, not Egyptian. After Alexander conquered Egypt, he was not only given the double crown, he was also ordained a god. Whoever has the body of Alexander has a power greater than any amount of gold could ever give.”
Chapter 12
It was time to tour the giant spider.
Callimachus and Archimedes were walking down the hall of the school, weaving around small groups of men engaged in intense discussions. The scholars looked similar in their traditional Greek tunics and dark beards. Archimedes reached up to feel if he had any whiskers, but quickly pulled away as he grazed against his raw scab. Callimachus began explaining the layout of the school and library.
It was like a plump spider with eight chubby legs. Starting at the front, the columns were the fangs opening the jaws to the entrance hall. The entrance hall corresponded to the spider’s small head and that connected to the main lecture hall, the thorax. From the thorax branched eight legs, each being one of the wings of the library. The abdomen in the back held the dining hall and the dormitories.
They walked into the lecture hall, a circular domed room with rows of semicircular wood benches encircling a round stone platform. In the center of the platform was a podium. Archimedes imagined the podium as the heart of the chubby spider.
Fifty feet up and forming the rounded back of the marble arachnid was the dome with a large circular opening at the top. As Helios’ stallions raced across the sky, a disk of light crawled across the floor in the opposite direction. The first floor was the library and on the second floor, circling the dome, were eight classrooms that comprised the school.
Between the two floors was a circular frieze that contained carvings of Athena, to whom the library was dedicated. It was similar to the frieze that surrounded the Parthenon in Athens. Ironically, one of the scenes depicted Athena punishing the boastful Arachne, the young girl Athena turned into a spider.
Evenly spaced along the walls on the first floor were eight doo
rways leading to the eight wings of the library. Next to each doorway was a niche with a life-size statue of one of the nine Muses of Greek mythology.
The Muses were the daughters of Zeus who represented the arts and sciences. In the library, each Muse corresponded to the eight subjects of books: medicine, mathematics, astronomy, physics, alchemy, history, literature, and music. The ninth Muse, Terpsichore, goddess of dance, stood next to entrance to the dormitories.
The school on the second floor followed the same layout, except the Muses marked the classrooms where each academic discipline was taught.
Archimedes strolled the lecture hall examining the sculptures of the Muses. He stopped in front of the statue of Clio, Muse of history. She was a beautiful young woman with a laurel wreath on her head and holding a scroll, her two symbols.
Tucked behind the statue, Archimedes noticed a pair of small, expensive sandals. He reached back and brought them out, expecting them to smell like a wet dog, but surprisingly had the fragrance of lemongrass. The soles of the sandals had elaborate hieroglyphs tooled into the leather. He was about to show them to Callimachus when he saw a man walking quickly toward his teacher.
“Excuse me, Callimachus,” the man said. “A messenger from Pharaoh Ptolemy is asking for you. He said it is very important.”
“Very well, I will go to meet with him. Archimedes, feel free to browse the books. I will be back shortly.” Callimachus glided away so Archimedes tentatively entered the history wing.
It was a large room with rows and rows of bookshelves. The smell of musty papyrus mingled with the fresh cut wood of the shelves. Each shelf had hundreds of pigeon holes and in each hole was anywhere from one to five scrolls, depending on how large each scroll was.
Between each set of shelves was a large wooden table for reading and unrolling the continuous sheet of papyrus onto another rod. There were several boys whose job it was to go around and reroll the scrolls to the beginning for the next reader.
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