Athena's Son

by Jeryl Schoenbeck

  Archimedes slowed as he approached a cart selling dried fish, similar to the tilapia he ate with Callimachus. Berenike grabbed his sleeve as he walked toward the fish stall. “Where are you going?” she asked.

  “I’m hungry. I was going to buy some of those dried fish.” He pointed his free arm toward the stall.

  Berenike looked toward the stall and laughed. “Dried fish? You’d be running for the bushes as soon as you ate those dog scraps. They’re not dried—they’re old. He’s trying to get rid of the garbage he didn’t sell this week.”

  She bobbed her head around people as she inspected the different stalls and then tugged his sleeve in the other direction. “Here, this will make a good breakfast.” She pulled him toward a wooden stall where an old woman had a copper kettle and palm leaves. “This is hummus. It’s made from ground chickpeas.”

  Berenike ordered one and paid the old woman with a copper coin. The woman smiled to reveal one tooth and hundreds of well-earned wrinkles. She handed Archimedes a thick palm frond with a mound of tan, oily hummus on top. “You just dig in with your fingers,” she demonstrated, “and eat on the run.”

  The silent Medjay perspired patiently until Berenike was ready to move on, and the two resumed their stations in front and back, indiscriminately shoving people out of the way. Archimedes hastily stuffed gobs of hummus into his mouth because the mob constantly bumped into his arm, splattering much of the hummus on his tunic.

  “How do you think Farrokh found out about the murderer?” Berenike turned to ask and saw he was busy trying to get the last of the hummus into his mouth. “Oh, here, let me help you.” She gave him a look of disgust. “You look like a beggar with all that hummus spilled on your clothing.” She shook her head and produced a delicate linen handkerchief from her robe. Like Berenike, it carried a scent of myrrh.

  “The only thing I can think of,” Archimedes said, licking his fingers, “is what Farrokh told me on the ship. Gossip is traded as much as copper coins in the marketplace of Alexandria. He must have heard some people talking about the murders and sent me the note.”

  Berenike continued scouring him as best she could. “You’d think he would have made a visit to the palace if he has information as important as this,” she said and then casually handed the soiled handkerchief to a young mother trudging past with two small children in tow.

  The mother was surprised at the sudden gift and gave a curt nod of thanks before slogging through the crowd. “Oh, there’s still some on your cheek.” Berenike leaned in and gave Archimedes a quick peck on his cheek, causing it to blush. “There, now you’re clean, little beggar.”

  Archimedes wanted to return the kiss, but with the two Medjay he decided now was not the best time. “Let’s see, I think Farrokh’s stall is on the other side of the marketplace. He likes the far end of the market because he can conduct business better when customers can take their time and are not being jostled away by the mass of people.”

  They continued lurching through the labyrinth of people and Archimedes took Berenike’s hand in his. No one would see that, he thought. The first Medjay slowed as he ran into an impenetrable horde of onlookers who seemed to be cursing and cheering at the same time. Archimedes could not see what the attraction was, but he noticed the first Medjay lean over and talk with Berenike.

  “The guard said it is a game of chance, a gambling table,” Berenike said, indicating with her head the general direction of the game. “It’s popular because very few people win and the crowds enjoy watching the misery of others. The Medjay will steer a course around it.”

  “Wait, Berenike,” Archimedes said, holding tight to her hand and pulling her back. “I’d like to see what kind of game entices people to keep playing and losing.”

  Berenike gave Archimedes a questioning look, then turned and shouted to the first Medjay, pointing toward the table. The guard gave a serious look toward the mob, nodded, and plowed into the hub of the melee.

  The attraction was a simple wooden table with two men behind it. The man running the booth was thin and quick. In front of him were three copper cups turned upside down. The thin man would place a small dried pea under one of the cups. The person betting would place their bet and then the thin man would quickly move the cups around while the bettor tried keeping track of the cup with the pea under it.

  The other man behind the booth was large and served as the enforcer, keeping a wary eye on the crowd. The two men were a contrast in looks and manners. Whereas the thin man smiled easily, his arms darting in circles while mixing up the cups, the heavy man folded his brawny arms and had a constant grimace etched in his sullen face. His job was to keep losing customers from claiming they were cheated.

  It appeared to Archimedes that all the people seemed to be on the losing side. Many disgusted people were complaining about losing their obols, debens, and shekels. One older Hebrew woman was furious, having lost a good egg-laying chicken to the men. The chicken was in a wooden crate behind the table, squawking nearly as loud as the old woman.

  The next person to play looked like a seller from the marketplace. He was an older man and was dressed nicer than the rest of the rabble. The thin man smiled while the bettor took off a silver chain and laid it on the table.

  “Ah,” the thin man barked to the eager crowd, “a confident bettor! Let’s hope he doesn’t lose this valuable necklace!” The crowd cheered as the thin man held up the silver chain. The old man wore a serious look as the thin man deliberately and slowly placed the pea under the middle cup.

  His hands mixed the cups in jumbled arcs as one cup flew to replace were another just had been. Archimedes tried following the copper cup he was sure had the pea, because he noticed there was a small nick in the corner of it. The thin man finished in a flourish, pulling his arms up and away from the table in a theatric display.

  Berenike was also mesmerized by the confusing speed of the cups and nudged Archimedes with her elbow. “I think it’s under the cup on the left.” That was the same cup with the nick, the same one Archimedes guessed.

  The old man studied the three cups before him. “It’s… it’s under that one,” the old man pointed to the one of the left. “Yes, that one,” he repeated.

  The thin man spoke through his irritating smile as he reached for the chosen cup. “Are you sure?” The old man nodded, he was smiling too, counting how much he would collect from the silver chain. The thin man briskly lifted the cup to reveal an empty spot. “I thought you had me that time,” the thin man mocked. “I even went slower, considering your age.” He reached over to the cup on the far right, held his hand on the cup briefly before lifting it to reveal the small dried pea.

  The crowd gave a collective sigh while the old man sputtered and started to complain. Just then the large enforcer stepped forward and told the man to get lost.

  “Who’s next?” the thin man yelled at the crowd. “I’ll go even slower for the next person!” No one seemed willing to lose any more money after the last victim.

  “Come on Archimedes, let’s go,” Berenike said. “That man’s hands move faster than an eye can follow.” She began walking away when Archimedes spoke up.

  “Wait Berenike. I’d like to try this game,” he said, pushing his way up to the table.

  “What?” Berenike asked. “Don’t be foolish, no one can win. The man’s hands are too quick.”

  “It’s not the speed of his hands that concern me,” Archimedes replied.

  “Ah, young sir,” the thin man looked Archimedes over like a horse he wanted to buy. “You show the courage the others lack. What will you bet?”

  Archimedes tossed a silver coin on the table. “That.”

  “Very well,” the thin man smiled, as if he were about to ride the horse. “Very well.” He deliberately placed the small pea under the cup as he did for the old man, saying, “I’m not so sure I will go slowly for you. Your young eyes can follow a simple cup.”

  “Go as fast and as long as you like,” Archimedes sa
id. The thin man’s smile seemed to waver as he glanced over at his large partner. The crowd moved in, eager to see this arrogant young man lose his silver coin and his pride. The thin man did move the cups faster than the last time, but he finished with the same flourish and leaned back with a smug smile, waiting for Archimedes to choose.

  “Do I tell you were the pea is?” Archimedes asked.

  The crowd and the thin man laughed together. “Why yes,” the thin man said condescendingly. “I thought you knew how to play the game. There are only three cups to choose from. You can count that high, can’t you?” The crowd laughed again.

  “I want to clarify the rules,” Archimedes calmly replied. “I only need to tell you where the pea is, correct?”

  The thin man’s demeanor changed slightly. “I’ve made that clear enough, haven’t I? Tell me where the pea is.”

  “It’s in your hand,” Archimedes said.

  The people didn’t laugh this time. They began looking at each other and whispering. The thin man became even more agitated. “You need to pick one of the cups, boy. Those are the rules.”

  “No, you said I only need to tell you where the pea is. It’s in your hand.” The thin man’s smile vanished and he began reaching for one of the cups. Before he could touch it, Archimedes placed the thick palm frond over all three cups. “Don’t touch the cups,” Archimedes said.

  The large man strode forward to grab this trouble-maker by the collar and toss him away. At the same time, the two Medjay moved toward the large man, hands on the hilts of their swords. The enforcer was large, but he was no match for two armed Medjay. He retreated, shrugging his shoulders at the frustrated thin man.

  Archimedes faced the crowd. “The cups have false bottoms. He doesn’t really put the pea under a cup; he keeps it in his hand. Then after you choose a cup, he pushes the pea into a cup you didn’t pick. It is a simple matter of deception. He gets you to believe there is something where it isn’t.” Archimedes turned back to the table and tipped all three cups over, one by one, revealing an empty space under each one.

  The people surged forward, tipping the table, tackling the thin man, while the enforcer tried to beat his escape with his fists. The two Medjay pulled Berenike and Archimedes free of the brawl, letting mob justice deal with the two con men.

  Berenike brushed off the dust that was kicked up from the scuffle while Archimedes bent down to pick up his coin.

  “Just once can you show me something without causing a commotion?” she asked.

  Chapter 27

  Farrokh was in the middle of an animated business negotiation with a customer. The deal must have been successful, for moments later Farrokh was eagerly shaking the hand of a woman who appeared pleased with her purchase of one of his trinkets.

  Glancing over, Farrokh looked apprehensive when he saw the Medjay heading toward his stall, then broke into a smile when he noticed Archimedes.

  “Archimedes! You found me, what a pleasant surprise.” Farrokh scanned the Medjay and then Berenike. “And with such distinguished company.”

  “Farrokh, this is Princess Berenike,” Archimedes proudly waved his hand toward the princess.

  Farrokh bowed. “A pleasure, Princess Berenike, to have you come all the way from the palace to my humble stall.”

  She held up her hand. “My trek through the marketplace is nothing compared to the journeys you make across the Mediterranean Sea. Archimedes told me about your trip aboard the Calypso,” Berenike said. “He told me what a good friend you were when he needed one.”

  “It was my pleasure,” Farrokh bowed again. “He taught me many things about mechanics and leverage.” He winked at Archimedes. “Would you like a drink of lemon water, princess?”

  “No, thank you Farrokh. I will be content to look around while you conclude your business with Archimedes.” Berenike nodded and walked a few steps away to look around the stall, followed by the attentive Medjay.

  Farrokh looked back to Archimedes with a confused look. “Conclude our business? What does she mean by that?”

  “The note you sent me, Farrokh,” Archimedes said. “Your note asking me to come see you.” Archimedes waited for some sort of recollection to cross Farrokh’s face. Seeing none, Archimedes continued. “You said you knew who the lighthouse murderer was.” He began to get a churning feeling in his guts.

  “Lighthouse murderer? What about the lighthouse murderer?” Farrokh asked. “Have they caught him?”

  “You mean you didn’t…” Archimedes did not say any more. An appalling gloom rose up from deep inside as he began to realize Farrokh did not send for them. He turned to call to Berenike, but he was too late. A man ran past Berenike, ripping the sapphire necklace off her and dragging her forward slightly. The two Medjay instantly began chasing the man.

  For a moment, Berenike stood bewildered, looking down at her bare neck, touching what was no longer there. Archimedes was just starting to jog toward her when she let out a stream of curses in Egyptian and took off in pursuit of the robber.

  “Don’t Berenike!” Archimedes yelled and grabbed for her arm, but she was already out of reach. “Wait, Berenike!” He twirled to run, but instantly bashed into an old man carrying oranges, toppling the man, spilling the oranges, and spinning Archimedes as he tried to keep his balance.

  Archimedes regained his sense of direction and dashed after the quickly fading princess. “Berenike! Let him go! Let the Medjay get him!” Although the crowd was not dense, the chase was difficult because the robber darted around people, the Medjay shoved everyone out of the way, and Berenike nimbly dodged all the stumbling people like Hypnos chasing a mouse around the legs of stool.

  The reckless snake of runners—the robber at the head, the two Medjay, Berenike, and Archimedes bringing up the tail—had run about two blocks and were heading to a more desolate section of Alexandria. Archimedes had a sickening feeling that he recognized the bearded thief.

  As he fell farther behind, Archimedes could only catch glimpses of Berenike’s rose dress dodging people. He desperately wished the two mean baboons he met the other day were giving chase. The spilled baskets and angry shoppers created by the four in front made it more difficult for him to keep up the pace, but the path of destruction at least indicated he was going the right way.

  He was grabbed from behind by an irate man with dozens of eggs smashed at his feet. “Who is going to pay for this?” He emphasized his question by shaking Archimedes with every syllable. The yellow yokes streaked the man’s chest and ran down his white kilt. “These were to be sold at the market. This mess is a week’s wages! Who is going to pay me for this?”

  “Please sir, I have to help my friend!” Archimedes pleaded. “I will pay you for your eggs, but my friend needs my help.”

  “Not as much as I need my wages. How much money do you have on you now?”

  With a burst of ferocity, Archimedes swept the man’s hand off him and yelled, “Not now! I’ll pay you later!” and continued running in the general direction of the snake.

  Berenike was nowhere in sight nor her rose dress. He slowed down to a trot and looked wildly around for the robber, the Medjay, or—he prayed to Athena—Berenike.

  The street was lined with older dilapidated homes and warehouses. The few people milling around looked at him suspiciously and crept away. He had just started to jog down the road when he heard Berenike scream, followed by a muffled scream. It came from an alley just ahead to his left. He sprinted, careened around the corner, slipping on the gravel, and ground to halt at the horrific sight before him.

  The two Medjay were dead. Several armed men were plundering their swords, shields, and anything else of value. Another very large brute of a man stood nearby, his knife glistening crimson. In the back of the alley, his arm locked around Berenike’s throat, was the thief. Berenike struggled, but the man was strong and held a long knife to her throat. The same long knife that threatened Archimedes aboard the Calypso.

  “Surprised, schoolboy?” Pol
lux was grinning with delight in this wicked revenge. “Remember me, goat turd?” The grin then changed to a grimace. “Remember how you tricked me and left me choking in your little trap?” He tightened his forearm around Berenike’s throat to emphasize a final, “Did you think I would forget you?”

  “Pollux,” Archimedes was finally able to breathe out. “What in the name of Zeus is going on?” He looked at the two devoted Medjay dead on the ground, obedient to the end. The gravel around them was stained pink and deep ruts showed where the brief struggle to protect the princess had come to an end.

  “What is going on,” Pollux sneered, “is that you fell into my trap. I have the last laugh, schoolboy. This was easier than I thought it would be. I didn’t need this many men but they’ll be paid all the same. What is going on,” Pollux repeated, “is that both you and your girlfriend here are going to face the vengeance of an old friend of yours.” He nudged the blade of the knife into Berenike’s slender neck, eliciting a muffled scream from her. “Get that little goat over here,” Pollux spit toward one of the armed men.

  Berenike threw her elbow back into Pollux’s guts and wriggled free long enough to yell, “Run, Archimedes! Go, get my father! This coward will not do anything to me!”

  Pollux regained his grip and pulled her back. “Quiet, you spoiled rat!” Pollux hissed in her ear. He violently shook her and looked back at his men. “What are you waiting for? Grab that little goat!”

  There were five of them, besides Pollux. Two of the men Archimedes recognized as some of the shifty sailors from the Calypso. Another one was the man who tracked him down in the alley when he was saved by Romulus and his wolf. Even if Romulus magically appeared again, they would be no match for this group of murderers. The large brute and the fifth assassin he did not recognize. It was the fifth man who Pollux yelled at and who approached Archimedes now.

  Archimedes could have done what Berenike said and run out of the alley, but he would not leave Berenike alone. He took one step back, trying to think of something, anything, to save them from this death sentence. There was no time to build a pneumatic cannon, no traps to build, no time or materials for a miracle escape. He was mad at himself for being smart instead of strong.