Athena's Son

by Jeryl Schoenbeck

  Archimedes opened his mouth, but Berenike, used to answering for herself, quickly responded, “I’m a friend. Do you know what those are?”

  “Look you little runt…” Kleitos took a step toward Berenike.

  “Runt?” Berenike repeated. “Why you fat oaf, I’ll rip your lips off and teach them to speak respectfully to me.”

  Archimedes cut in front of Kleitos. “Let’s get on with this. Where is the target?”

  “That melon over there.” He pointed to a palm tree stump about 25 feet away. On top of the stump was a melon just a bit bigger than his head.

  “Fine,” Archimedes said. “What are the rules?”

  “Rules?” Kleitos laughed. “You use some air to blow a pebble out of a tube. How simple can it be? Don’t they teach you about weapons at your fancy school?”

  “Oh, they teach about weapons,” Archimedes said and took the cloth off the dead bat.

  “What in the name of Hades is that?” Kleitos blurted.

  “It uses air to blow a pebble out of a tube. Are you ready or are you going to back out?” Archimedes said.

  Kleitos scoffed. “You little goat. Watch this.” He put a pebble in his mouth, brought the blowgun up to his lips, and blew hard. There was a whoosh of air and the pebble smacked into the melon, sticking in the rind.

  “Your turn,” Kleitos smirked. “See if your stupid box can even hit the ground. It looks like that empty crate has more brains than you do.”

  Archimedes ignored him. He took out one of Berenike’s amber beads and held it up to Kleitos. “A pebble.” He put it in the bronze tube a pushed it in with a twig. “A tube,” he pointed condescendingly to the bronze tube. He walked behind the box and began pumping with the leather bellows. “Air,” he said to Kleitos, who was beginning to look suspiciously at the dead bat. Archimedes knelt behind the dead bat to adjust the aim, reached to the front, and released the valve.

  An abrupt hiss of air echoed out of the bronze tube, the box flipped back, knocking Archimedes in the forehead, and the melon exploded into a mash of green and pink juice. Several pieces of rind and pulp landed at the feet of Kleitos, who stood in shock while wicked grins crossed the faces of Archimedes and Berenike.

  “You can’t do that,” Kleitos managed to stammer. “That doesn’t count.”

  Archimedes had expected that response and Berenike was already loading another amber bead into the dead bat. Archimedes pumped the bellows and spun the machine so it pointed directly at Kleitos. “Your head is a softer target than that melon, Kleitos. Hand over the blowgun and dart.”

  Kleitos didn’t bother handing them over. He dropped both crucial pieces of the clue and ran toward the worksite.

  Berenike was picking the dead bat off the ground. “Blessed Athena, I’m glad you’re on my side. I could never imagine anything like that aimed at me.”

  “Imagine,” Archimedes was rubbing the bump forming on his forehead, “if it used steam.”

  Chapter 21

  Archimedes knew a few beautiful women. He always considered his mother beautiful, but that was through the eyes of an adoring son. Athena and Aphrodite are beautiful and they should be, they were goddesses. On the docks in Alexandria there were several very attractive women strolling idly about looking lovely and dangerous at the same time. But as Berenike read the warning on the smaller scroll again, he could not comprehend its meaning.

  “Atropa bella donna.” Do not betray a beautiful lady.

  For Archimedes, the most beautiful woman in the world was across the table from him. Berenike was adorned more as an Egyptian princess today. A white linen tunic with gold trim around the neck and arms fit snugly around her slender frame. She had gold strands braided in her wavy, black hair with small matching garnets strung on the end. And, as was her custom in the library, she was barefoot.

  ‘Do not betray a beautiful lady’ was the last line written by the physician Meti on the scroll Berenike brought back to the library. As Archimedes had agreed, he went to the library with Berenike to help with Alexander’s murder theory. Berenike led Archimedes up to the second floor to a private room where they could work undisturbed. The room was small, but airy and bright, with a large open window facing west and overlooking the Eunostus Harbor. A heavy cedar table dominated the center of the cozy room.

  Slanting late afternoon light streamed through the open window, gilding the dark table in gold. The white triangle sails of fishing boats knifed through the water, returning home after a day of fishing. Seagulls screeched and dived after the boats like missing pieces of sail trying to reattach themselves.

  Berenike had a pile of scrolls in various states of decay, including the larger scroll she showed him earlier at the school. Holding it open were her two elegant sandals on either end. Because Archimedes could not read demotic script, Berenike half read, half paraphrased the scroll to him.

  Meti wrote about Alexander the Great’s symptoms leading up to his death in his new capital, Babylon. Before Alexandria, Babylon was the greatest city in the world. Alexander was holding a banquet in memory of his most trusted friend, Hephaestion, who had died eight months earlier.

  Berenike was stumbling on some of the words, furrowing her brows in concentration. Like hieroglyphic, demotic script did not utilize vowels, so she often had to attempt several words before the right one fell into place.

  According to Meti’s scroll, Alexander began having severe pains in his stomach after eating. Over the course of several days, the pains became worse with fevers, tremors, and eventually lockjaw. Although his doctors tried everything they knew, Alexander the Great, the most successful general in history, died at the age of 32.

  The doctors and generals who attended to Alexander said he died from malaria, which he brought back with him from India. Meti became part of the invincible Macedonian military machine when Alexander liberated Egypt from the Persians. Alexander was riding his horse Bucephalus when, living up to his name ‘bull-headed’, it kicked Alexander off and he landed on his back, injuring it. None of the Greek doctors could help relieve the pain. An Egyptian soldier recommended Meti, and he was able to help using the treatment written on the scroll:

  Lay the patient on his back. Extend his two legs…

  “Blah, blah, blah,” Berenike reeled her hand in a circular motion, indicating she was going to skip these details. Basically, Berenike summarized, Meti used massage and incantations with a talisman (Herophilos would have a sour comment about that, Archimedes thought).

  Because Alexander was becoming more fascinated with Egyptian culture, he asked Meti to accompany them as they traveled east to conquer Persia. Through the different campaigns, Meti advised Alexander on diet and preventive care for his back. The two men, physician and king, Egyptian and Greek, became friends.

  When Alexander lay dying, Meti was ordered to the palace to give his opinion on what was wrong. When Meti arrived, he saw how upset Roxanne was about being left a widow, especially since she was pregnant with Alexander’s child. Meti examined Alexander and indicated to the generals and other doctors that there were some dubious symptoms that did not indicate malaria. Meti was promptly escorted out of the palace at the end of a sword.

  Atropa bella donna. That was the end of the original, larger section.

  “How sad for Roxanne,” Berenike said. “She and her son were both eventually assassinated.” Berenike unrolled the smaller scroll and laid the torn edge next to the larger scroll. The two jagged edges matched, as did the blotchy, yellowed papyrus. She set one of her sandals on the two corresponding edges so they stayed open. She scanned the shorter scroll before reading in a halting, careful manner:

  The Greeks fill the skies with their tales of duplicity and murder. All so they can see the sun rising in the west. He will take Orion’s belt.

  “What in the name of Thoth does that mean?” she exclaimed, looking it over again to make sure she had it right. Thoth was the Egyptian god of writing. “Meti scribbled red circles and lines right through his wr
iting. It doesn’t even make sense.” She looked over to Archimedes for assistance, only to find him shaking the dart he got from Kleitos. “What are you doing? You’re not even listening!”

  “Sorry Berenike,” Archimedes replied. “There is something loose inside of this dart. I was trying to figure out what it was.” He shook it near his ear.

  “There is something loose inside your head.” She reached into her pile of scrolls and pulled out Archimedes’ entrance scroll. She reached over the table and playfully whacked him across the head with it. She was reversing for a backstroke when Archimedes caught her arm mid-swing. He held on as he jumped up and scampered around the table while Berenike giggled and tried to twist her arm free.

  When Archimedes faced her he pulled the crumpled scroll out of her hand and raised it to hit her back. Only inches separated them. Berenike’s eyes sparkled in mischievous delight while she pouted.

  It was then his brain took over for his heart. Is this two friends playing, or two friends flirting? Archimedes slowly lowered the scroll. Should he kiss this beautiful Muse? He never kissed any girl before, much less a princess of Egypt. He wished for once he had the grit and passion for life that Berenike had. She held his gaze, almost daring him to do something, but he lowered his eyes to the floor and said, “Um, I think I might know what he’s hinting at.”

  “Oh, Archimedes,” Berenike fumed. She pushed him away and plopped herself on a stool.

  What is she mad at? Archimedes wondered. Was I supposed to hit her or, Aphrodite help me, kiss her?

  “All right,” she said in a resigned way. “What is he talking about?”

  He tried pulling the scroll over to him, but it was pressed under Berenike’s elbow. She lifted it and shoved the small piece of papyrus over to him. Meti was right, Archimedes thought; do not betray a beautiful lady.

  “Well…” he stalled. He knew what he wanted to say, but he was baffled about her apparent frustration at something he did—or didn’t—do. “Since he talks about the Greeks and skies and murders, I believe he is talking about Greek constellations. Most of the stories associated with the constellations involve murder or duplicity of some sort. The only problem,” he glanced at Berenike to gauge her emotions, “of course, is the sun rising in the west.”

  Berenike casually pulled the scroll back and examined it. “Perhaps I read it wrong.” She read several moments and then her voice rose with anger. “It’s this stupid demotic writing of theirs! Why can’t they just put in vowels so we know what in Hades they are trying to say!”

  After several moments, in a more composed, but somber, voice, she said, “Maybe this is all a child’s game I’m playing. Father is probably right; I’m just wasting my time. This Egyptian doctor probably isn’t even talking about murder or cover-ups, or anything important at all. I’m just a young girl with crazy theories.” She pushed the scroll off the table, where it drifted like a leaf onto the marble floor.

  Archimedes looked sympathetically at Berenike, but she did not look at him. He bent down and picked up the papyrus and walked over to the open window with it.

  Only after his back was turned did she look at him. He turned the scroll to his left, then right, examining the red circles and lines Berenike pointed out. He angled it to catch some of the sloping rays of the afternoon light on it. “These red marks…” He turned the scroll. “Wait a moment…” He held it parallel to the window. “Berenike, did you notice these small holes in the papyrus?”

  “Yes,” she blurted. “It’s because the stupid papyrus is so old. Crumple it up and you’ll see even more holes.”

  “No,” he turned and held the scroll toward her. “There is a pattern. The holes, when held up to the light, I think are constellations.”

  She hesitantly got off the stool and looked at Archimedes before taking hold of the scroll and turning it slightly so she could see. “What do you mean? How do you know?” Her voice revealed little enthusiasm.

  “I recognize these particular patterns. Look.” He took her by the arm and led her to the open window. He held it up with his left hand while Berenike held it with her right. He had to lean his head closer to hers to coordinate what they were looking for.

  “Here, here, and here. These three holes definitely represent Orion’s belt. And the rest of these,” he slowly traced a polygon, “make his body. And these,” he drew four lines radiating away from the body, “are his arms and legs. These other holes represent the stars that make up his club, which he is holding aloft, and his shield is this set of three stars. Orion was a hunter…”

  “Look,” Berenike said. “When the sun shines through the papyrus, the red lines on the scroll connect to Orion’s belt. They make an odd square shape with three lines.” She flipped the scroll over and they examined the red lines Meti had placed randomly in the middle of the scroll. “What constellation is this square shape?”

  “None that I know of,” Archimedes said. “At least, not any Greek constellation. Maybe, since Meti was Egyptian, they are significant to Egyptian constellations or myths.”

  “This circle he drew, it goes around another one of the holes.” They flipped the scroll over again and Archimedes examined the pattern.

  “These seven stars, just to the right of Orion, are the Pleiades,” Archimedes said. “They are the seven daughters of the titan Atlas. But the one Meti circled…” Archimedes flipped the scroll twice trying to pinpoint the exact star Meti had encircled in red. “That star is Merope, the youngest daughter, and also the littlest star in the Pleiades constellation.”

  Berenike lowered the scroll and looked at Archimedes. “So what we have is some constellation connected to Orion’s belt and Merope.” She looked out the window for a few moments, as if gathering her thoughts. She looked back at Archimedes. “Are you sure these holes identify specific Greek constellations? You aren’t just coming up with some theory just to make me feel better?” Her gaze was almost pleading.

  “No, Berenike,” Archimedes touched her on the shoulder. “Not at all. I respect you too much to play games. I’m certain these holes are placed to identify constellations and those red markings are part of the clue you’re searching for. This puzzle he created may identify the murderer of Alexander the Great!”

  A smile widened across Berenike’s face. “This is wonderful, Archimedes! I’ll stay here and go over the document to make sure I translated it right. You track down Savas and ask if he can help you find any scrolls on Egyptian constellations.”

  She was already walking over to the table and laying down Meti’s small scroll. Archimedes had just started to turn to leave the room when Berenike added, “And Archimedes… you are a true friend. You know what Aristotle said about a true friend, right?”

  “A true friend is one soul in two bodies,” Archimedes answered.

  Archimedes found Savas pecking among the book stacks. When Archimedes asked if there were any scrolls about Egyptian constellations, Savas ignored him, telling him to “look over there,” with a dismissive wave of his hand, not even bothering to look at the lowly boy.

  “Thank you Savas,” Archimedes said. “I’ll let Berenike know where she should begin her search.”

  Savas swung his beak quickly around. “Is it for the Princess? Why didn’t you say so?” He personally walked Archimedes across the library, to a far shelf, where at the top lay a set of scrolls. He went through five scrolls before he found one to his liking. “This one,” Savas said, “has the constellations plotted and the accompanying myths.”

  Now Archimedes was ready to present the very scroll that could complete his soul friend’s murder mystery. Imagine, an Egyptian princess considering him as part of her soul. What is it about women that make them perilous as a feral dog one minute and tender as a litter of kittens the next? He had his head down daydreaming when he turned the corner and bumped into someone, knocking the scroll out of his hands. Archimedes, startled, took a step back. Standing in his way was Remus Decimus.

  “Remus,” Archimedes sa
id after he recovered his senses, “what are you doing here?”

  “Remus,” Remus echoed in his cat hiss. “But of course. I am broadening my horizons, as it were.” He punctuated it with a sly smile and the familiar tapping of his fist against his mouth. “I am sorry I startled you. Here,” he reached down and picked up the scroll, “let me assist you.” Remus read the scroll’s label and said, “Egyptian constellations, but of course. Perhaps I can help you with something?” It was the kind of invitation a spider would give a fly to inspect its web.

  “No, thank you,” Archimedes said as he took the scroll from him. “We’ll…I’ll do just fine on my own.” He carefully walked around the Roman, heading back to Berenike.

  “But of course. Certainly,” the spy said. “Oh, and do be careful, young scholar. Do be careful. Do not make the same mistake poor Pholus did.” He smiled and waved, even though Archimedes had his back turned and was walking away.

  Archimedes continued at a quick pace, trying to put some distance between him and the ubiquitous Roman. The last thing Archimedes wanted was any help or advice from that disreputable spy. Poor Pholus, what did he mean by that? Archimedes abruptly stopped. “Pholus,” he whispered.

  Pholus was a centaur who dropped a poison arrow on his foot, killing him. Archimedes turned back but Remus was gone. Did Remus know about the dart Archimedes found? Blessed Athena! He forgot about his own murder investigation. He quickly touched the pocket he kept the dart in. He could feel the dart’s narrow wooden body through his tunic and was careful to avoid the sharp needle. As soon as he finished in the library, he planned to take the short walk over to the school and show Callimachus the dart and blowgun.