Archimedes estimated there were 50,000 scrolls in this hall alone, giving the library a collection of nearly half a million books. He pulled out one of the scrolls and tried unrolling it, balancing the petite sandals in one hand and the scroll in the other.
While he struggled, Archimedes saw a small, quick man scurrying around the library. He reminded Archimedes of a plover, the small shore birds in Syracuse. The compact birds with their long legs would dash back and forth between waves. As a wave crashed forward the birds would dash back toward shore. When the sprawling wave retreated, the plover would quickly follow its wake, pecking into the sand for an opportune meal. The process was repeated as the wave inevitably crashed forward again. The small man would stop, check some scrolls, and then move on. Stop, straighten, dash, stop. The man saw Archimedes, looked at the scroll, and dashed after the wave.
“What are you doing young man? Hmm? What are you doing?” He talked almost as swiftly as he moved. “Shouldn’t you be dusting? Cleaning? Who let you touch these scrolls?” The man’s voice rose with agitation.
It dawned on Archimedes that because he was so young, this plover must have thought Archimedes was one of the servants, like the water-spiller in his room. Archimedes began to put the scroll back, but that disturbed the plover even more. “Don’t put it back there. Not now. Is it rolled correctly?”
Archimedes did not know if he should drop the scroll, hand it to him, or hit him over the head with it. He was measuring the scroll’s heft against the weight of the petite sandals when a soft voice from behind said, “If you’re going to hit him, please use the scroll instead of my sandals.”
Archimedes turned around and there stood beautiful Clio.
In bare feet.
Chapter 13
A girl about his age faced him with her arms folded. She was a mesmerizing fusion of Egyptian and Greek goddesses. Dark kohl outlined bright green eyes and her black wavy hair was held up in thick braids in the way rich Greek women preferred. However, instead of Clio’s laurel wreath, she wore a wide band around her head in the style of Egyptian women. Turquoise and malachite beads played off her emerald eyes. A gold leaf brooch pinned at her shoulder held a white tunic that reached down to her toes.
“Princess Berenike,” plover quivered, bowing low. “I was just getting this servant boy back to work. I utterly regret that he disturbed you!”
“Savas,” the honey voice intoned, “This young man is no brainless servant. Remember, ‘The educated differ from the uneducated… “
“ as much as the living from the dead,” Archimedes finished the quote. Not only was this statue beautiful, it was alive.
The green eyes curled into teasing smiles. “See, he knows the writings of Aristotle. You may go Savas; I will make sure your scrolls are rolled properly.”
Savas bowed deep again and left. The plover dashed to the next shelf and commenced straightening more scrolls.
Archimedes was wondering if he heard correctly. Was the lovely Clio really a princess? Daughter of the pharaoh? Archimedes regained his senses and bowed. It was then he saw her petite bare feet again.
“Are these yours?” He held out the sandals.
Berenike smiled. “Thank you.” She took them and gripped his arm for balance with one hand as she bent to the side to put each sandal back on. “I like the feel of the cool marble on my feet, so I take my sandals off.” She straightened up, shook out her tunic, and looked at Archimedes. “I am Princess Berenike, only daughter of Pharaoh Ptolemy II, future queen of Upper and Lower Egypt.”
Archimedes couldn’t have been more astonished if Athena walked in.
“You are a student, aren’t you?” Berenike’s eyes narrowed in reservation. She began pacing around him, as one who is used to inspecting humans.
“Yes, princess. My name is Archimedes, from Syracuse.” He twisted to watch her as she strode around him. “This is my first day at the School of Alexandria. Callimachus was giving me an introduction to the school and library when he had to take care of some business with your father.”
“You are very young to be attending my father’s school.” She stopped the physical inspection and began a character check. “What qualifies such a young man to attend the great School of Alexandria?” Her chin nodded up toward him.
Archimedes rotated the opposite direction to face the inspection. “My teachers wrote to the school, believing I was bestowed with gifts from Athena.”
“What talents are those, gifted one?” She added a teasing melody to the nickname.
“Mechanics, alchemy, science.” Archimedes decided that was enough.
“Any background in medicine?” she asked.
“Well, sure. I studied anatomy and…”
“Perfect!” Her exam complete, she grabbed his hand and pulled him down the aisle, immersing him in a pleasant tang of lemongrass as he followed behind. After passing several crammed shelves, she turned left and then right, stopping at a table with several open scrolls covering the top. She took the scroll Archimedes still had in his hand and stuffed it in a nearby pigeon hole.
“Won’t Savas be mad if that scroll is not put in its proper slot?” Archimedes asked.
Berenike waved her hand, causing several silver bracelets to chime. “Bah, leaving the scrolls mixed up is like birdseed to Savas. It gives him something to peck at.” She leaned on the edge of the table. “All right, gift of Athena, you know my family’s connection to Alexander the Great, right?”
“Yes, princess. Your grandfather…”
“Berenike.” She gave Archimedes a level gaze.
“Excuse me, princess?”
“Please,” Berenike said, “call me Berenike. I have so few friends my age, much less educated ones, that I would like someone to just call me Berenike.”
“Very well, Berenike. Your grandfather was Ptolemy, one of Alexander the Great’s trusted generals. After Alexander died and his kingdom divided, your grandfather took control of Egypt. Since then your family has ruled as pharaohs of Upper and Lower Egypt.” Archimedes pushed open one of the scrolls as he spoke, scanning over the Greek writing. One of the scrolls, he noticed, was in a language he did not recognize.
“Well done, scholar,” Berenike said. “So Athena did grant you more than the ability to retrieve sandals. You said Alexander died. How did he die?”
This Muse had a sharp tongue to go with her sharp mind. “Alexander died in Babylon from a fever,” Archimedes said. “After 10 years of fighting the Persians, he died from too much war and too little rest.”
“I suppose that’s what you learned in Syracuse,” she said.
“That’s what everyone learns everywhere. His death is recorded in all documents, from Persia to Greece,” Archimedes said.
“Not all documents.” Berenike slowly walked to the other side of the table and unrolled the incomprehensible scroll as wide as her arms could go. Archimedes noticed several expensive rings on her fingers.
On her right hand was a silver ring with an image of Alexander the Great wearing a lion’s head. On her left was a gold ankh, the Egyptian symbol for life. Another ring was a deep blue sapphire in the shape of a scarab beetle. The papyrus crackled in protest as she opened it. “Can you read this?”
Archimedes bent close and the smell of old papyrus betrayed its age. It was longer than a normal scroll, spanning nearly the length of his arm. In addition, it was rolled on a bronze tube instead of a wooden rod. Valuable books were rolled on bronze because the metal did not rot papyrus like wood did. Several languages translated through his mind as he scanned the scroll. He followed the writing with his finger to where it ended in a frayed, torn edge.
“I’m sure it is not hieroglyphs,” Archimedes said. “It is certainly not Greek, although it is close to Coptic.” The Coptic alphabet he studied in Syracuse was similar to the Greek alphabet. “And it is not Phoenician.”
“You know your languages, Archimedes, I’ll give you that. The reason you didn’t recognize it is because it is demotic.
” To keep the scroll from rolling up, Berenike held one end down with her hand and laid a piece of smooth glass on the other. It was a clear flattened globe and about the size of her palm. “Tourists think all Egyptian writing is in hieroglyphs, pretty pictures of snakes and birds. But writing in hieroglyphs is time consuming and used exclusively for public and religious displays.”
Archimedes picked up the elliptical glass and held it up to the light. “This has almost no color. Where did you get this?” Blue or green glass was common, like his chemical bottles, but he never saw glass that was clear. “Did you know a piece of glass like this has the ability to reproduce and focus the heat of the sun?” It would make a great addition to his alchemy kit.
Berenike grabbed the globule away from him and set it back down because the scroll was rolling up. “A small gift to father from some rich merchant,” she replied impatiently. “Can you concentrate on this?” She traced a line of the demotic script. Archimedes watched her slender hand and the silver ring flow across the papyrus. “Demotic is the script used for official Egyptian writing, such as legal and scientific documents.”
“So you’re learning different languages?” he asked.
“Like a fish needs swimming lessons,” she said. “I already read and write five different languages. My problem, Archimedes, is that my father or anyone else I talk to about this scroll thinks I’m wasting my time. I need you for your medical background.”
“OK. What does it say?” Archimedes asked.
“Ah, that’s just it. The first question is not what does it say, but how it is written,” Berenike said.
“It’s written in demotic,” Archimedes stated the obvious.
“Exactly!” Berenike said. “This scroll is from one of the doctors attending to Alexander as he lay dying. The doctor, named Meti, wrote this scroll in demotic so none of the Greeks could read it.”
“Why didn’t he want the Greeks to read it?”
Berenike’s green eyes shifted up to lock with his. “Because this scroll reveals the plot to cover up Alexander’s murder.”
“Murder?” Archimedes repeated too loudly for Berenike. She quickly shushed him with a wave of her hand. Archimedes lowered his voice to match her conspiratorial tone. “All the written sources say that Alexander died from a prolonged sickness.”
“Lies, all lies.” Berenike set the glass globe off to the side and began rolling up the scroll. “None of Alexander’s generals wanted people to know he was killed. They wanted his kingdom for themselves. They knew Alexander’s young wife Roxanne was pregnant with his son Alexander IV, who would inherit his father’s vast kingdom. Both Roxanne and Alexander IV were later killed so Alexander IV could not become king. Someone wanted Alexander and his family dead and I intend to find out who.”
She finished rolling up the scroll and touched its ragged edge. “I need to find the rest of this scroll. Someone tore it off to protect the murderer.” She jabbed her silver-ringed finger into his chest. “Will you help me or do you think I’m crazy too? Be honest with me.”
“I would always give you an honest answer. Yes, of course I’ll help you, Berenike.” Sure she seemed a little crazy, but this Muse was captivating too.
She took a step closer and gave him a deep gaze. “Promise?”
“I promise,” Archimedes said, “but…” he was about to say she would be contradicting more than 50 years of accepted knowledge about Alexander’s death, when he happened to glance beyond her wavy hair and notice a man staring intently at them.
He appeared to be a rich Roman dressed in the traditional toga embroidered with purple silk that only Roman citizens were allowed to wear. He had an odd habit of tapping the back of his fist against his mouth while concentrating on them. The man was glancing from the scrolls to Berenike when he caught Archimedes’ glare and hastily walked away.
“I don’t like the look of this,” Archimedes cautioned as he took a step toward the spying Roman.
Berenike, animated with her conspiracy theory, grabbed Archimedes by the hand. “Great, I knew you would think so! I want to take you to the palace talk with my father!”
Archimedes had just enough time to grab the glass off the table.
Chapter 14
Startled scholars watched two reckless children sprint through the library. Berenike led Archimedes out the history section, through the lecture hall and into the entrance hall.
Ajax, who was patrolling the entrance hall, turned to the slapping of their sandals. Instead of going out the front and down the steps, Berenike made a quick turn to the right and out a concealed side door. “Father put this door in for the nobles to use.” Outside, a royal chariot was waiting with a driver.
Archimedes had read about chariots, but he never really expected to ride in one. The driver bowed low and set out a stool for Berenike. She bounded up two steps and turned around to see Archimedes inspecting the construction.
“Hurry, will you? It’s completely safe.” She turned to the driver. “Agrippas, you’ll be careful, won’t you?” Her driver was a wiry, lean-faced Greek who smiled easily.
“As cautious as we always are, Princess.” The man bowed, but not before Archimedes saw him wink at Berenike.
A matching pair of magnificent, grey Arabian horses was hitched to the front of the wooden chariot. The frame, Archimedes noted, was made of imported elm, which was needed for the rough ride chariots endured. The construction was heavy for royal use in parades and official functions, unlike the typical war chariot that was lighter. A bronze railing curved around the openings and followed the frame to the back. The outside was covered in some type of animal hide Archimedes did not recognize. It was golden brown with dark brown spots speckled over it. He hesitantly took the two steps up.
“He’ll take it easy, won’t he?” Archimedes asked as he looked at the two Arabians paw impatiently on the ground.
“Hang on,” Berenike whispered.
The musky smell of the horses overwhelmed the delicate fragrance of Berenike, but nothing could contend with her energetic grin as Agrippas whipped the horses from a trot, to a cantor, and into a gallop. People scattered as the chariot bumped and churned through the dusty streets. Archimedes turned to see the library slowly shrink behind and he saw the Roman again, fist tapping against his mouth, watching the chariot speed away.
“Father wants me to travel in a covered chair that the servants carry,” Berenike said. “I think it looks pretentious. Besides, isn’t this more fun?”
The grey mares’ eyes were wide and wild as they tossed their heads against the tight wrenching of the leather reins. Their hooves pounded up dust and pebbles from the street, blinding Archimedes. Every rut and rock jarred his knees and the wheels bounced desperately against the uneven road.
Not only did Agrippas not slow down for a turn, he whipped the horses faster and the swaying chariot almost tipped over, much to the delight of Berenike. She leaned her head back with a riotous laugh and shouted something to him, but his head was jolting around too much to hear.
The hooves slowed from the fast staccato of the dirt road to a steady beat on the paved boulevard leading to the Palace grounds. Tears cleaned trails down Archimedes’ dusty cheeks and he finally caught his breath.
Lining either side of the boulevard were palm trees and fountains. Slaves wearing only linen kilts swarmed the lush boulevard, watering, cleaning, hoeing, and planting.
Two guard houses were stationed at the end of the boulevard and they waved the royal chariot through. Far to the right of the road was the barracks for the army. Hundreds of men were practicing maneuvers, walking horses, cleaning weapons, or eating in what little shade they could find.
The road leading to the palace was divided by a long rectangular pool. Cranes and ibises walked among the lily pads while colorful fish shimmered in the placid water. The palace may have housed a Greek king and queen, but the building itself was all Egyptian.
Towering columns rose up to a massive open roof. The tan columns spr
ead into green palm leaves at the top. Vibrant hues of red and yellow squares banded the middle of the columns. Unlike the simple marble floors of the library, the palace entrance had tiled floors of flamboyant red, blue, and yellow geometric patterns.
Agrippas pulled back on the reins, bringing the chariot to an abrupt but controlled stop. Archimedes, shaking and sweating, took the opportunity to jump off the chariot. Berenike followed him.
“For the love of Zeus, did he have to drive so recklessly?” Archimedes asked, his tunic clinging to his back with sweat. “That was dangerous; we could have been killed!”
Berenike nonchalantly waved her hand at him. “Relax Archimedes. Danger, in the hands of an expert, is sculpted into adventure.”
Servants came running up to attend to Berenike. They brought a large green glass of water, a bowl of dates, and a palm leaf fan to wave at her. They bowed and set down a stool. She stepped off, drank from the glass and took a handful of dates.
She waved away the fan bearer and waited for Archimedes. Yesterday Archimedes was impressed by the school; now he was absolutely overwhelmed by the extravagance of the palace.
“Get my friend some water and dates,” Berenike ordered one of the servants. He bowed low and ran into the Palace.
Archimedes was shocked for a moment when he heard the Princess refer to him as a friend. Berenike was confident, friendly, and interested in books, exactly what he would want in a friend. But she was also member of the Royal Family, with gold, servants, and a pedigree from the gods. She even said she would be Queen someday! Could she really be a friend to a common schoolboy?
A serious young man walked out to greet Berenike. He was dressed in the long tunic of a court administrator. He bowed and said, “Princess Berenike, welcome back. Pharaoh Ptolemy is in audience right now, but will see you after he completes some very important business.”
Athena's Son Page 6
