Athena's Son

by Jeryl Schoenbeck

  Callimachus put his hand on Archimedes’ shoulder. “We can go back to the school, Archimedes. Do not despair. It is a complex problem and no one has been able to solve it. You need to begin your studies and the Pharaoh needs to discuss the murders with his advisors.” They began to walk out the same way Archimedes and Berenike came in earlier.

  “It’s a miracle the boy can wash his hands without emptying the Nile,” Ptahhotep mocked at Archimedes.

  Archimedes stopped. “Eureka!”

  He turned back toward the throne. “I can solve your problem, Pharaoh Ptolemy. All I need is a bowl of water.”

  Chapter 16

  Water was Egypt’s most precious resource. The Nile River inundated the land with fertile silt each flooding season and provided farmers with water to irrigate their crops. Now Archimedes needed just a bowl of it to help the pharaoh solve his problem.

  “Archimedes,” Callimachus asked cautiously. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

  Archimedes was walking toward Ptahhotep to get the crown, but he stopped and turned toward Callimachus. “Callimachus, you put your faith in me and now I will repay that trust with a solution.”

  Pharaoh Ptolemy stood and asked loudly, “What is going on Callimachus? Is your student playing games?”

  Ptahhotep saw another chance to mock the clumsy schoolboy. “Are you coming back to spill water and dates? Let me teach this foolish child a lesson, pharaoh.”

  Berenike stepped up to Ptolemy and put her hand on his. “Please father, Archimedes is my friend and I am responsible for bringing him here. And remember, it was you who challenged him to solve your problem. He is only accepting your request.” She opened her green eyes wide in a silent appeal.

  Ptolemy looked into his daughter’s eyes and saw in them the same determination he had. He softened his tone, only a little, and addressed Archimedes. “Very well. I did challenge you to find an answer. What is this about a bowl of water, Archimedes?”

  “Just a moment ago he couldn’t even hold a cup of water,” Ptahhotep said. “Now he wants try to hold both this priceless crown and a bowl of water.”

  “Is it priceless?” Archimedes quickly retorted. “I thought it was only bronze.”

  The room went silent. The only reaction from Ptolemy was a raised eyebrow.

  Now Ptahhotep was nearly snarling. “Your tongue tries to conceal your weakness, schoolboy.” Anger seethed in his heavy breathing and narrowed eyes. He clutched the crown tightly. “I need to take this crown back to the temple to examine it.”

  Remus Decimus walked over to Ptahhotep. “May I see it?” he asked in his silk voice. Ptahhotep did not want to relinquish it, but it was a gift from Remus, so he reluctantly handed it over. “Still as exquisite as when it left the shop of Gavius Barbitus, Rome’s finest jeweler. Quite a shame,” he gave Ptahhotep a smiling cat look, “to accuse it of being cursed.” He slid over to Archimedes and whispered, “Do not ruin it, child. It is worth more than your life.”

  Archimedes wasn’t sure if that was a threat or compliment. Archimedes examined the golden laurel wreath and felt the weight of it in his hands. Each leaf sparkled like a miniature sun. The Pharaoh stepped down from his throne toward Archimedes. As he did the guards followed. “Explain your solution,” he said gravely.

  “If I may, Pharaoh, could your servants get the few materials I need?”

  After several minutes, two servants returned with a table and placed the items Archimedes requested on it. Archimedes stepped toward the table and was quickly surrounded by the Pharaoh, Callimachus, Ptahhotep, Remus, and Berenike.

  A whole stadium could have been watching but Archimedes would not have taken any notice; his mind was spinning like the gears of his calculator. He bent over, moved some things, and then straightened up.

  “The problem is not finding the gold content of this crown,” Archimedes began, “because it can be melted down. Rather, the problem is how to devise a reliable system so none of the precious items coming into Alexandria have to be destroyed.”

  Archimedes put his finger on the rim of a large alabaster bowl sitting on top of a wide alabaster plate. The bowl was so full that if a needle was dropped in, a droplet of water would have seeped over the side.

  The solution became clear when Ptahhotep laughed at him and told him not to drop the crown in the water. “By completely immersing the wreath in this bowl of water, an amount of water equal to the total volume of the crown will be expelled. This large plate,” he pointed to the alabaster plate underneath the bowl, “will collect the water that spills.”

  Callimachus, standing to the left of Archimedes, let out a slow breath. He now knew what Archimedes was going to do. It was so simple, but no one had ever come up with such an effective solution to measuring volume before. Callimachus shook his head in amazement.

  “The water that spills onto the plate will be poured into this glass beaker, which will measure the volume of the water, and at the same time, the volume of the gold wreath.” Archimedes’ hand moved to the measuring scales. They were the same bronze scales the men were using to weigh gold when he and Berenike first entered the palace.

  “Next, we weigh the crown. Gold is nearly twice the weight of other metals. By taking the weight of the crown and matching it to its volume, we can calculate exactly what the gold, silver or bronze content is.”

  Archimedes turned to Ptolemy. “The crown isn’t melted, the gold content is measured, and your lighthouse is built.”

  Ptahhotep jumped on the assumption. “You have not determined the gold content yet.”

  “No more discussion,” Ptolemy ordered. “Complete your investigation Archimedes.”

  Under the intense gaze of the group, Berenike handed the crown to Archimedes, who gently lowered it into the bowl. He was careful not to drop it or let his fingers break the plane of the water surface. Either mistake would impair the accuracy of the results. Water trickled over the edges of the bowl at the same rate the crown was lowered in until the crown clinked when it hit the bottom. Archimedes waited several moments before he removed the bowl, lifted the plate, and meticulously poured the water into the glass beaker. He lifted the beaker to eye level and said to Callimachus, “One hundred sixty centimeters.” Callimachus wrote the figure down on a sheet of papyrus.

  Archimedes turned to Pharaoh Ptolemy. “Gold weighs 19 grams per cubic centimeter. Silver is nearly half that. If the crown is pure gold…”

  “It is,” Remus whispered quickly.

  “If it is,” Archimedes continued, “the crown will weigh 3 kilograms.”

  Archimedes carefully removed the gold wreath from the bowl and dried it off. He set the crown on one of the scales. He added blocks of lead weights in increments on the opposite side. Each block made a soft tap when they were placed on the flat plate opposite the crown. The plate with the crown moved slightly up with each block that was added. As the two scales became nearly even, Archimedes began adding smaller and smaller lead weights. When the scales balanced, Archimedes looked at Callimachus, who smiled.

  “What is it?” Ptolemy asked as one who is not used to waiting.

  “Exactly 3 kilograms,” Callimachus answered. “Pure gold.”

  “Blasphemy!” Ptahhotep growled. He stalked over to his large wooden chair, dropped on it and crossed his arms. “Dunking a crown in a bowl of water proves nothing except…Ow!” Ptahhotep jumped out of his chair as if he were stung by a bee. He turned and rubbed his back.

  Ptahhotep sat down with some trepidation and continued his rant. “How can a bowl of water negate what the gods have…Yow!” Again, Ptahhotep was out of his chair, rubbing his back. This time, instead of sitting down, he stormed out of the throne room.

  “What in the name of Zeus is wrong with him?” Ptolemy asked. He looked at Callimachus, who only shrugged his shoulders.

  Archimedes turned to hide a smile, but came face to face with Berenike, who gave him a knowing smirk. “What did you do?” Berenike whispered. “I know a pr
ank when I see it.”

  “When I was picking up the bowl of dates earlier, I lodged your oval piece of glass in the back of Ptahhotep’s chair. Back at the library, I told you an elliptical shaped glass is capable of focusing the rays of the sun in one spot. Regrettably, Ptahhotep’s back was that one spot.”

  “Archimedes, I didn’t know you had a devious side!” she said. “We’re going to make a great team. With my grit and your gift, we can solve Alexander’s murder.” Her sea green eyes sparkled and Archimedes was becoming more and more drawn into the energy that swirled around her like a ship sucked into a whirlpool.

  Callimachus, Ptolemy, and Remus were discussing the results of the experiment. Remus diligently took the crown from the scales and handed it to Ptolemy. “As I said, Great King, this priceless wreath was crafted in Rome and has not changed at all on its journey across the Mediterranean. A valuable gift,” Remus painted on his smile, “for our valuable friends.”

  Ptolemy looked from the scales, to the bowl of water, and then his eyes rested on Archimedes. “You have solved what my scholars, scientists, priests could not. I concur with Callimachus, Archimedes; you are a gifted scientist.”

  “I told you father,” Berenike said, “Archimedes is capable of mystifying things.” She gave him a covert nudge in the side. “That is why I brought Archimedes here to see you. He is going to help me with my investigation into the murder of Alexander.”

  But Ptolemy was already walking back to his throne. “Your friend,” Ptolemy said solemnly, “solved one problem, daughter.” He sat on the throne with purpose and looked around at everyone in the room. “But there is still a bigger problem: My workers are being killed. No one has been able to solve that, but maybe this young scientist can.”

  Archimedes turned in shock to Callimachus, who was forming an argument to present to the pharaoh on why Archimedes may be too young to undertake a task that soldiers and doctors had been unable to solve.

  The slapping of sandals echoed from a side entrance and a soldier burst into the room. He appeared to be a captain of the guards. He wore a robe and had a necklace with three golden flies that bobbed with his quick pace. The golden fly was given to soldiers who displayed bravery in battle.

  The soldier stopped in front of Ptolemy and knelt. He bowed his head and said, “Pardon me, Great King. But you gave instructions to be informed without delay on any developments with the murders at the lighthouse.”

  Great, thought Archimedes. They’ve caught whoever is doing this. I won’t have to leave my studies.

  “Well?” Ptolemy asked impatiently.

  “A body has been discovered. There has been another murder.”

  A scowl darkened the face of the pharaoh. Is there anything he can do to fight a murderous god? He narrowed his eyes at the soldier, then looked over at Archimedes.

  “Your science broke the curse on my crown. Now, by Zeus, you will break the curse on my lighthouse! Archimedes, I am ordering you to find out who is killing my workers.”

  Chapter 17

  Hazy, gray smoke curled out of a bronze incense burner. Frankincense filled the cool, dark room with a sweet, pungent odor. It mingled with the smell of death, which was no stranger to this place. Shafts of diffused sunlight tried to burn through the thick smoke and candles were burning in a futile attempt to add more light.

  “Bah!” The doctor straightened up and looked at his Egyptian colleague. “That dreadful smoke is blocking my light. Can’t we put it out so I can see what I am doing?”

  Herophilos, a Greek physician, was examining the body of the 12th Egyptian worker found at the worksite of the lighthouse. They were in Herophilos’ surgery room, which was part of the medicine wing of the school where Herophilos taught human anatomy and sometimes conducted autopsies.

  “The incense purifies our work and attracts the attention of the gods. It is required anytime we work on the deceased.” The Egyptian doctor, Kafele, was small and unassuming. Like all Egyptian doctors, he was more of a priest and shaved his whole body to demonstrate his reverence to the gods by keeping his body clean.

  “It only attracts more flies. By Apollo, it smells worse than this decaying body,” Herophilos said. “Couldn’t they have brought him here earlier? I could find out more if the body was fresher.”

  When Pharaoh Ptolemy charged Archimedes to solve the crime with science, Archimedes asked to have the corpse taken to the school so an autopsy could be performed by Herophilos. Callimachus was standing next to Herophilos but Archimedes preferred a little distance and stood back by Kafele, nearer to the windows than the dissection.

  Herophilos was the first doctor in history to extensively dissect the human body. He founded the school of medicine at the school because this was the only place that would allow him to do his research of human anatomy. His books were required reading for all new physicians attending school in Alexandria.

  Egyptian doctors deferred to the gods to intercede when someone was sick, dying, or dead. Prayer, amulets, and incense showed respect by keeping the body intact. The cutting and exploring that Herophilos specialized at was repugnant to Kafele and the other priests.

  Victim 12, a stonemason, was killed yesterday and his body was discovered this morning. This was the first murder victim Herophilos was asked to examine because the other 11 corpses were given to Ptahhotep. The cadaver was lying on a wooden table that had, Archimedes noticed, countless pink stains and gouges from the previous work of Herophilos. It reminded Archimedes of the mottled spear shaft that Ajax held. The man’s muscles were now stiff as leather from the effects of rigor mortis.

  Herophilos wiped his hands on a linen cloth and then draped it over the head of a nearby statue of Apollo. “You may not want to watch this Apollo, I’m going to begin the dissection.” Among his many other duties, Apollo was the god of medicine. “Callimachus, would you hand me a scalpel?”

  Callimachus appeared unmoved by the imminent spectacle. He had observed Herophilos’ dissections before, but this was a first for Archimedes. Callimachus was holding a candle and he hovered it over a table with bronze medical instruments. “Do you want the wide blade or narrow?”

  “Wide. This poor soul isn’t going to flinch much,” Herophilos said.

  “Must I stay for this?” Kafele asked. He wasn’t squeamish about blood, he saw it often enough with animal sacrifices. It was just that cutting into something as sacred as the human body offended his religious sense.

  Herophilos was slicing through the leather toughness of the skin and first layers of muscle in the chest. “Go if you want. It was Ptolemy who told you to be here. Besides, I’ve got Callimachus and his curious student to assist.”

  “You may come with me young man,” Kafele said to Archimedes, “and get away from this slaughter. This is an affront to the gods. We already know what is killing these men.”

  “Slaughter?” Herophilos angrily asked Kafele. “This man is dead. He is already with the gods. You Egyptians didn’t even know the brain was the center of human intellect. It was through my examinations that I discovered the brain controls the senses. You butchers throw the brain to the cats during your mummification! Slaughter. By Apollo, what do you call your mummification?”

  Kafele did not answer. He looked at Archimedes. “Would you like to leave this unholy place with me?”

  “No sir,” Archimedes answered politely. He understood Kafele was only following the beliefs of his culture. When Archimedes told Berenike he had some background in medicine, it was only from scrolls and lectures from his teachers. Not many people truly understood, and fewer ever saw, the inside of the human body. Like Kafele believed, it was up to the gods to know what was going on underneath our skin.

  Kafele bowed slightly and left.

  “You were right to stay, Archimedes,” Herophilos said. He bent over and continued his cutting. “Callimachus said you were a scientist and liked to work on machines. Well, step over here and examine what few men are courageous enough to learn. The human body i
s the world’s most marvelous machine.”

  Archimedes hesitantly took two steps. He wasn’t within touching distance, but he could hear the scalpel make a scratching sound as it sliced through the layers of rigid muscle. The cold, pale body glistened from olive oil that was rubbed on it to keep it from drying and decaying. As Archimedes neared, the smell became more intense. It was a heavy, sweet smell he would never forget.

  “The tongue and eyes do not suggest any poisoning,” Herophilos said, “as best I can determine from this state of decay. There are no cuts or broken bones, no snake bites on his legs. Thank Apollo that Ptolemy finally let you bring a body here instead of giving it to that fool Ptahhotep. Those babbling priests would be showing the dead man their collection of amulets.”

  Herophilos handed the scalpel back to Callimachus. “Bone saw.” Callimachus passed a bronze saw with a wooden handle. Herophilos took a half step back and began to saw through the soft cartilage of the rib cage. Chunks of cartilage flew up with the rapid motion of the toothed blade and landed on Archimedes’ tunic. He quickly brushed it off. Herophilos handed the saw back to Callimachus.

  There was a cracking sound as Herophilos grunted and pulled apart the rib cage. Archimedes nearly gagged at the sound of the ribs splintering and the sight of the internal organs. There were dark tubes, a purple slab, and two pink bladders that looked like the jellyfish that washed up on the shores of Syracuse. It was all tightly crowded together as if the man’s torso were a chest that was packed for a voyage.

  “Observe the wonder of the human body, Archimedes. Callimachus has seen this magnificent machine before. But you are entering a world few men are privileged to enter.”

  Herophilos picked up two candles. He handed one to Archimedes and the other he held over the splayed chest. A moist, repulsive smell of death came over Archimedes. He suppressed an urge to vomit, but his watering eyes betrayed his nauseous stomach. He thought about his first couple of days aboard the Calypso.