The Arrows of Hercules

Seven – ORTYGIA

The first autumnal gale, with gusts of rain, swept in from the west. Skippers beached their vessels for the winter; hence Zopyros found no ship to take him and Ahiram to Syracuse. He managed, however, to hire a traveling cart in Akragas. He had to hire a driver, too, to return the vehicle to its stable.

The journey took four days—longer than it would have by ship —and was costlier and less comfortable than a sea passage. The road was a pair of ruts of the standard Sicilian vehicle gage, lined with stone and chiseled into rock where the road crossed a ledge. Where the ruts were in disrepair—that is to say, for most of the journey— the vehicle jounced over rocks and roots and splashed through mud-holes. For long stretches of wild country there was little sign of human life, save an occasional peasant's one-room hut of sticks, stones, and mud.

Zopyros braced himself as best he could on the narrow board seat behind the driver. Since Ahiram could not reach the floor with his feet, Zopyros spent most of the journey with the sometimes fretful child in his lap. Both were covered with dust and soaked by intermittent rains. At night, Zopyros slept with the boy in his arms in the rude, bug-ridden huts that served as inns.

Considering all he had been through since he had been snatched from his placid, prosperous home, Ahiram proved a good traveler. While Zopyros entertained him with stories of gods and heroes, he took the hardships of the road in his stride, showed a keen interest in every new sight, and asked endless questions about his mother.

At the Hyblaios River they cut across the southeast corner of Sicily, by way of Akrai. When Zopyros remarked upon the beauty of the Heraean Mountains, now turning from brown to winter green, the driver looked at him queerly.

"Beautiful to you, maybe," he said. "A toff like you looks at mountains and forests and thinks of nymphs and satyrs playing orgy-tag in the brush. So you say: 'How pretty!' When I look at mountains and forests, I think of all them bloody brigands waiting to pounce on me and slit my gullet. No, sir, I don't think they're the least bit pretty!"

They arrived in Syracuse in midafternoon. Zopyros paid off the driver and left Ahiram with his landlady, who gathered the boy to her bulky bosom and cried:

"Just look at the poor little mouse, filthy from head to foot! You men!"

"Then clean him up and buy him a new shirt, my dear Rhoda," said Zopyros. "Here's some money."

Having seen to Ahiram's needs, Zopyros walked to the Arsenal. At the entrance to the building he passed Alexis the Velian, to whom he gave a casual wave. Next, Archytas rushed up to embrace him, saying:

"When you failed to return with Evnos and Segovax, I was sure you had joined the majority. They wouldn't tell me what had happened to you. What did happen?"

"Just a little job of abduction."

"Korinna's boy?"

"Yes."

"Divinity! You're a fox who can slip through any hole!"

"You might say so; we were almost kidnapped ourselves by slavers on the way here."

"By the Dog of Egypt, tell me!"

"It's too long a story. I'll tell you the whole tale this evening."

"You won't have a chance; the boss is giving another party, for off-islanders. We're invited because we are educated gentlemen, forsooth, and he wants to show the people that his friends aren't all spies and ruffians."

"At least we shall eat well; after the road—"

"How is it that you gave Alexis such a casual greeting just now? Oh, I know! You haven't yet been told that he's your new boss."

"What?"

"Yes," said Archytas. "Dionysios decided that the Arsenal gang had grown too large for Drakon alone to oversee. So he gave Drakon two subordinates: one, Alexis, in charge of all research teams; and the other, Pyres, in command of all production."

"Zeus, Apollon, and Demeter! That's a fine surprise to come home to. I shan't need three guesses to figure out how Alexis got the job."

Archytas laughed shortly. "Thrice evil to evildoers! Everybody knows he's Drakon's boy friend, and no doubt Drakon urged him on Dionysios for that reason. Now Alexis thinks he has God by the balls. Still, Dionysios is pretty shrewd. If Alexis can do the job, he'll stay no matter how much you and I hate his shadow. If he can't, he'll be out regardless of Drakon or anyone else."

"Have you had to do with him personally?"

"I've had a few brushes with him. He gives me a pain. I can laugh it off more convincingly than you can, but that doesn't make me like it."

An ominous thought struck Zopyros. "How is my project coming?" He looked around the vast floor of the Arsenal, seeking the space that had been assigned to him for the pilot model of the catapult.

"You won't like it," said Archytas. "Come this way."

At one side of the Arsenal, among the piles of oars and ship timbers, Zopyros found the parts of his pilot model, unassembled and neatly stacked. Archytas explained:

"No work was done on your catapult after you left for Carthage. Alexis claimed he had more urgent need for your carpenters and shifted them to other jobs. I complained clear up to Philistos but— Zopyros! Keep your temper! A Pythagorean never acts in anger!"

Zopyros stood still, his lips drawn back from his teeth, his eyes glaring, and his hands clenching into fists. He said in a low voice:

"By the twelve postures of Kyrene, I'll have it out with that baby-faced catamite—"

"Wait! Calm down! Dear Zopyros, remember: if you lay a finger on Alexis, you'll be out on your arse! And then what of all your fine marriage plans?"

"I'll get that whipworthy rascal, though Dionysios has me drowned afterwards!" Head thrust forward, Zopyros stalked towards the doorway, where he had last seen Alexis.

Alexis was nowhere to be found. Zopyros learned that the new assistant master of the Arsenal had gone home to prepare for the evening's feast.

"It's time we went home to wash up, too," said Archytas with evident relief.

They returned to the island at dusk. The town hall was thronged with prosperous-looking Syracusans, who stood about with a deferential air, staring curiously around them. Among them a few of Dionysios' engineers were to be seen.

The tyrannos' cronies were present in full force. These were a score of trusted friends, like Philistos, who lived on the island and shared Dionysios' table. Mainlanders called them his flatterers or parasites. In truth, however, Dionysios kept them so busy running errands, occupying executive jobs in» his government, traveling about on embassies, and snooping into the affairs of the Syracusans that they had little time for flattery. Among these courtiers were a willowy poet, a scar-faced character from the underworld of some big Greek city, and a stocky man of peasant type, named Lithodomos, who seemed to be kept around mainly as a butt for the others' jokes. Dionysios' brother Leptines, the admiral of the Syracusan navy, was at his brother's side.

While the cronies spoke in loud, self-confident tones, the mainland Syracusans seemed by contrast subdued and apprehensive, glancing over their shoulders before speaking. The towering figure of the tyrannos moved freely among them with only two bodyguards at his back. Exuding charm, he pressed cups of spiced wine upon them and asked about their families and affairs.

Zopyros, studying Dionysios as he passed by, thought there was something oddly stiff and bulky about him. He wondered if the tyrannos could have put on weight during his short absence from Syracuse. The mystery was cleared up when one of the guests, having been vigorously slapped on the back, gave Dionysios' chest a playful pat in return. A small metallic sound startled the guest and told Zopyros that the tyrannos was wearing the new iron cuirass beneath his robes.

At last Zopyros caught sight of Alexis, standing in a knot of men. He wore a fine new blue tunic with golden dolphins embroidered on the breast and a matching blue ribbon on his long light hair. The shipwright was talking with elegant, languid gestures and an expression of extreme hauteur.

Zopyros, ignoring his cup of wine, started in Alexis' direction. Following him, Archytas tugged at his shirt and hissed: "Zopyros! Keep your passions under the rule of reason!"

"Don't worry, old boy. I have my tactics planned."

He strolled up to Alexis with an expression as haughty—he hoped —as that of the Velian. "Rejoice, Alexis!" he said. He raised his cup. "Congratulations on your promotion!"

"Thank you, my good Zopyros; our great leader knows ability when he sees it. And how was Africa?"

"Dusty," replied Zopyros. "How are your ships coming along?"

Alexis became animated. "The keels are being laid. You must come over to the shipyard to see them. They're the shipbuilding triumph of the age; none but I could have conceived them. By Our Lady, I shall be as famous as Ameinokles of Corinth, who invented the trireme!"

"What are you calling them?"

"The fourer will be the Arethousa, while I shall name the fiver the Syrakosia."

"That's fine, Alexis. I feel the same way about my catapults. Yet, when I visited the Arsenal this afternoon, I found that my catapult project had not advanced a digit since I left."

"Oh?"

"Yes. As the new supervisor of all the research teams, you must know something about that."

"Of course I do. Our research projects call for a great deal of labor and materials. Therefore I have set up a system of priorities. Devices of questionable value, like yours, necessarily receive a low priority. It's unfortunate, but you see how it is."

"No, I don't see. Only two months ago, when I demonstrated the small model to the President, he expressed keen interest and urged me to push the project. Has he changed his mind?"

"My dear man, since then he has entrusted me with the management of all these speculative enterprises; so I must use my own best judgment. Any time he doesn't like the way I run the department, he can replace me."

"Beware the anger of the jealous gods, Alexis. I shall see you later."

Zopyros turned away. Archytas, with a sigh of relief, followed him. Zopyros stood watching Dionysios across the crowded room, then set out on a course that would bring him face to face with the tyrannos. The latter, seeing him, took a quick step forward and grasped Zopyros' arm in a muscular grip.

"Welcome home, O Zopyros!" he said, smiling broadly. "When Evnos told me you had gone off on private business, I feared I had seen the last of you. What was it? Something with soft curves and golden hair, no doubt?" Dionysios winked and dug Zopyros in the ribs.

"You might put it that way, sir," said Zopyros. "Have any of our recruits arrived yet?"

"Two came in today. They are so welcome that I can almost forget the accursed race from which they sprang."

"I'm glad you are not displeased at my taking a couple of days to promote my own affairs."

Dionysios waved a hand. "Think nothing of it. An executive must be given a degree of trust and freedom beyond that of an ordinary workman. Provided, of course, he doesn't abuse his privileges. You have the full confidence of Dionysios."

"Well then, O President, let me say I'm sorry you have changed your mind about my catapult."

Dionysios looked puzzled. "Changed my mind? How?"

"When I departed, I left orders with my carpenters to finish the first full-scale catapult. Now I find that no work has been done on it at all. My new superior, Master Alexis, has moved my men to other projects, on the grounds that my device is of questionable value." He paused. When Dionysios stood silent, looking at him inscrutably, he continued. "Understand, sir, I strive to please. If you don't approve of catapults, then put me to work on something you do value. It's hardly efficient to assign me a job and then withhold the means for doing it."

"Hm," said Dionysios. His piercing gaze roved the room until it lighted upon Alexis. His voice rose to a leonine roar: "O Alexis!"

"Coming, sir," said Alexis, hurrying over.

"What's this about your halting work on the catapult?"

"I have not halted the work, sir."

"Nothing has been done on it for nearly a month!" said Zopyros. "Be quiet, Zopyros," said Dionysios. "Has any work been done on the catapult since Zopyros left?"

"I couldn't say," said Alexis.

"You cannot say? Why not? Are you not in charge of all the research projects?"

"What I mean, sir," said Alexis, "is that I have not given orders to halt it. Some other projects, with higher priority, have needed extra craftsmen. Therefore I've borrowed men from the catapult for these more promising projects. Any time they had left, of course, these men were supposed to devote to their original assignment."

"Any ox can see there's been no time left over!" said Zopyros.

Alexis shrugged. "That's unfortunate but hardly my fault. I have to distribute our resources of men and materials where I think they will do the most good. If I have erred, O President, I shall be glad to be corrected."

Dionysios looked hard at both young men, then said: "Give the catapult the highest—what's that word you used?"

"To proteréma—priority, sir."

"Well, give it the highest priority." He frowned both at Zopyros and at Alexis. "Know, you two, that I, Dionysios, want no more squabbling! I demand cooperation at all levels. I have many gifted men at work here, and gifted men are not always easy to work with. Sometimes two of them together are like quicklime and water. You must overcome these petty distractions and annoyances. You must act as if you were dear friends and comrades, whether you feel that way or not. If you do not, I shall be displeased, and I will make my displeasure felt. Do you understand?"

Zopyros and Alexis each murmured a surly assent, and the group broke up to take their places on the banquet couches.

On the way home, Zopyros said to his friend: "I've been so wrapped up in my own problems that I haven't asked you what you've been doing since I left."

Archytas said: "They made me a special assistant to Drakon, to do the calculations for the whole Arsenal. I have a desk up on the gallery near his. It means I have to be polite to Alexis, but there's plenty of work. Some of the problems are fascinating. I also have a little time for an invention of my own."

"What is it like?"

"I'll show you tomorrow."

"I'm eager to see it ... By the way, I notice Ahiram took to you the minute he met you."

"I admit I have a way with children," said Archytas. "What are you going to do with him? We can't ask Rhoda to care for him indefinitely."

"I thought I'd ask for a few days' leave, to take the boy home to Messana."

"Gods on Olympos, don't do that!"

"Why not?"

"First: you just took a few days off without asking leave. The boss took it in good part, but if you demand another leave now it won't sit well with him. Second: Alexis has been ordered to give you back your workmen; but, unless you stick around, he'll sneak them away again on some pretext or other. Next time you might have more difficulty getting them back. Since you faced Alexis clown in public, one needn't be able to see through walls to realize that he'll ruin your project if you give him the smallest opening."

"What shall I do, then? The little fellow is anxious to see his mother."

"Write Korinna at once. Xanthos is rich; he can send a traveling cart to fetch the lad."

"But that way I shan't see my darling again until the gods know when!"

"I thought that's what you had in mind." Archytas patted his friend's shoulder. "Even a god must yield to necessity."

Next morning, Zopyros was pleased to find his carpenters and their apprentices back at their jobs. He had hardly set them to work assembling the catapult, however, when Drakon's errand boy came to tell him that the master of the Arsenal wanted to see him. The impudent look on the boy's face warned him that the interview was likely to be unpleasant.

He followed the boy up the stairs to the gallery. When he reached Drakon's desk, however, the master of the Arsenal was not there. He walked a few paces to Archytas' desk, littered with sheets of calculations. Nearby stood a complicated arrangement of jars and tubes.

"What's that?" said Zopyros. "Your invention?"

"If I can ever make it work," said Archytas. "The big boss said he wanted something to signal starting time in the morning. Well, you know the clepsydra they use in law courts—a jar with a hole in the bottom? They limit speeches to the time it takes the water in the jar to run out the hole. I'm trying to make a clepsydra that shall blow a whistle."

Just then Drakon returned to his desk. Zopyros hurried over. Across this desk, Drakon's gnarled features glowered up. "Who's Arsenal master here?" he snarled in a voice like a rusty hinge.

"Why, you are, sir."

"Then what in Hades did you mean by taking complaints to the President without speaking to me first? Don't you know nothing about organization? Are you trying to kiss the President's arse in hopes of promotion? If—if—" He pounded his desk, incoherent with rage.

"I'm sorry, sir," said Zopyros. "When I saw what Alexis had done to my project, I was too angry to think about—"

"Don't you dare say a word against Alexis! He's a good, bright, hard-working boy. You're jealous of him, because he was promoted ahead of you. Now get out—ea, wait! Where are you going?"

"You said to go, sir."

"Furies take you! You think you can mock me, because you've had a fancy education! I'll show you! I'll—I'll ..."

Drakon subsided into silence. For some time he sat, breathing heavily. At last he spoke in more moderate tones: "Understand, Master Zopyros, that we have certain orderly procedures. People are expected to follow them. One rule is that you shan't carry complaints, proposals, or suggestions to a higher executive until you have at least talked the matter over with the one directly above you, and then with the one over him, and so on. Do I make myself clear in my stupid, uneducated way?"

"Perfectly clear, sir."

"Then you may go."

"Do you really mean it this time, sir?"

"Why—you—get out!" Screaming, Drakon snatched up his bronze inkwell, spilling ink on his papers, his desk, and the floor. Zopyros ran for the stairs.

Lunchtime came. Sitting on the edge of the Spring of Arethousa and munching bread and cheese, Archytas told Zopyros: "The gossip is all about the great Zopyros-Alexis feud. The betting was even as long as it was just between you and Alexis. But, now that you've got Drakon against you, too, they're making up a pool on how long you will last."

"Bugger all feuds and jealousies and intrigues! I'm only trying to get my work done."

"Ah, but in any big organization, there's a scorpion beneath every stone. It's a law of nature. They're gossiping about your feud merely because it's the noisiest one."

"How is it, Archytas, that people always come to you with gossip and never come to me?"

"Why, as to that, I look like the kind of person it would be fun to swap rumors with. I'm overweight and jolly-looking, and I know everybody. You, on the other hand, are tall and gaunt and serious. You prowl around with a preoccupied scowl on your face, like a leopard on the hunt. You walk past people you know without seeing them. They come to me afterwards, saying: 'By Herakles, what's wrong with that Tarentine friend of yours? Is he angry with me, or what?' I have to explain: 'No, it's just the way of these creative geniuses. They are so wrapped up in their own mighty thoughts that the material world doesn't exist.' Then I assure them that you're the finest fellow on earth, when I can get you down off your philosophical cloud."

The great feud, however, was resolved in an unexpected way. A few clays after his outburst, old Drakon took to his bed with a wasting disease. Arsenal gossip said that he had been suffering for some time, and that this fact explained his foul temper in recent months. Although he lingered on for a year before dying, he came no more to the Arsenal.

In his place as Arsenal master, Dionysios appointed Lithodomos, his stocky, peasantlike crony. Lithodomos called a meeting of the Arsenal workers and made a speech:

"Now, boys, I don't want nobody to think I'm putting on airs, just because I'm your new boss. I admit I don't know so much about some of these here technical details as you men who work on them. But I've been around longer than plenty of you young ones, and I've watched the President at his work, and I know a thing or two. In fact, I'm a lot smarter than you might think. And I can tell you we're going to put out bigger and better production here than ever before, see? I've got some new ideas of my own about this. In fact, I'll be disappointed if we don't double our production in the first six months. Now, boys, get in there and produce!"

For the next few days, the work of assembling the catapult went smoothly. Everybody knocked off for an hour to witness the trials of the armored chariot designed by Simon of Kroton, the little man who had been expounding his idea to Dionysios when Zopyros first laid eyes on the tyrannos. The vehicle, looking deadly in its coat of iron scales, towered up from the archery range. Four horses were backed up to it and harnessed.

"Ithi!" cried Simon.

The driver cracked his whip. The horses lunged against their neck straps. The chariot did not move.

"Go on! By the God, stir them up!" shrieked Simon, dancing about. "It must go!"

The driver lashed the horses, which redoubled their efforts. At last the wheels heaved up out of the holes into which they had sunk. The chariot, creaking and groaning, lurched slowly forward a few feet. Then the wheels found another soft spot and settled in again. Shouting and lashing the horses failed to move it. The animals stood exhausted with hanging heads.

Dionysios walked over to the vehicle. He prowled around it, examined the places where the wheels had sunk into the ground, put his shoulder against the rear of the structure, and shoved. He told Simon:

"You seem to have underestimated your weights, man. That thing would require a dozen horses to move it at a decent pace."

"Please, godlike sir!" wailed Simon, catching Dionysios' hand and kissing it. "I can redesign—I can modify—"

Dionysios turned his back. As he strode off the archery range, he said to Lithodomos:

"Scrap it."

Then he was gone. Zopyros went back to work with the rest. Next day they heard that Simon had hanged himself in his room during the night.

A few days later Glaukos, Korinna's brother, arrived with a traveling cart from Messana to take his nephew home. Zopyros gave a party at a wineshop for Glaukos, with Archytas, Segovax, and Evnos as company. Tongues loosened by the best Falernian, they told the tales of their adventures in Africa. Evnos said:

"I can offer a bit of gossip about the President, which the rest of you may not have heard."

"Oh?" said Archytas. "I'm all ears." The others likewise urged Evnos until, after teasing them a little, he said:

"Dionysios has begun to look for another wife."

"Whatever happened to the first one?" asked Glaukos.

"The daughter of Hermokrates? You remember about six or seven years ago, in his first big campaign, when he tried in vain to raise the siege of Gela by the Carthaginians? Our aristocratic cavalry figured he was done for. They thought it would be a fine time to get even with him for ousting the oligarchs from power and killing off their leaders.

So they galloped home from Gela, sacked his house, and raped his wife."

"All of them?" said Glaukos.

"Probably no more than a troop; nobody kept count. Anyway, the poor girl killed herself before Dionysios got home with the rest of the army."

Segovax clucked. "A distressful thing. Wiry docs any man have to be doing rape, and so many women willing?"

"Well," continued Evnos, "since then he's made do with occasional dancing girls, although I must say he's as moderate in his venery as a Pythagorean. Now, however, he's getting dynastic ideas."

"They always do," said Archytas.

"So, wanting legitimate children to leave his city to, he's been shopping for a wife. He sent one of his cronies to Rhegion, but the Rhegines sent the man back with word that Dionysios might have the daughter of their municipal hangman if he liked."

"Oi!" said Zopyros.

"Oi indeed! He rarely shows anger; but they say that he was angrier at this than at anything that's happened since he came to power. He swore by all the gods he'd pay the Rhegines back for this insult, if it took the rest of his life. I do believe he hates them worse, now, than he does the Carthaginians."

"Speaking of cronies," said Zopyros, "does anybody know why he's made Lithodomos master of the Arsenal? The man doesn't impress me as qualified."

"I'm after hearing the story on that," said Segovax. "Himself has literary ambitions. He wants to write great plays and poetry, although your Greek poetry can't compare with that of our Celtic bards. You should hear them around the chief's* hearth fire in Gaul ... But anyhow, Dionysios thought if he could get some of the writing tools of the best writers of Athens—those who are dead and gone—the gods would somehow send him an inspiration. So he sent Lithodomos to Athens. And Lithodomos had a bit of luck, because he found a man who had the pen and writing tablets and harp of Master Euripides, and the desk of that other omadhaun—what's his name? Ai-some-thing."

"Aischylos?" suggested Zopyros.

"That's it, Aischylos. So this man had these things that belonged to the great writers—or at least he said they did—and Master Lithodomos bought up the lot."

Archytas asked: "Did these writing tools furnish the desired inspiration?"

Segovax shrugged. "I wouldn't be knowing. I don't hear that his honor has yet won any of them literary prizes they give in Old Hellas. 'Tis a pity I never learnt to write, because I'm thinking I could write poetry that would make your Homers and Anakreons sound like so many crows calling to each other to come and eat a dead corp they've found lying. Only they'd never give me a prize, first because I'm a foreigner, and second because it would be in the Celtic language I'd be doing it, the which they couldn't understand at all."

"It's never too late to start," said Zopyros. "Come around for a free writing lesson sometime."

"Thanks; maybe I will. Anyway, Dionysios was monstrously grateful to Master Lithodomos and swore to give him a good steady job the next time one opened up. And that is that."

Later, Zopyros said to Glaukos: "How are things at home?"

"She sends you her love, of course, and thanks you with all her heart for rescuing her boy."

"Yes, but how are the negotiations coming?"

"Slowly. Your father and mine are both trying to skin a flayed dog. They haggle over every detail like a pair of Phoenician jewelers."

"Plague! I wish I could speed, them up."

Glaukos smiled. "One can't live with women, and one can't live without them! My sister is impatient, too. Father smiles and says, that's why the parents have the say in such matters. If left to themselves, young people, urged on by their lusts, would rush into all sorts of foolish bargains."

By the beginning of Maimakterion*(*Approximately November.), the catapult was assembled in the Arsenal. Not wishing to have a crowd around to jeer if the device failed, Zopyros persuaded some of his workmen to try it out early on the morning of a holy day. They hauled the engine out of doors on rollers and set it up at the end of the archery range. With the windlass at the after end of the trough, they cranked back the bowstring, digit by digit. The mechanism creaked with the strain, and Prothymion the bowyer peered anxiously at his huge bow.

At last the string was behind the trigger. Zopyros pulled back the lever that raised the trigger from its slot, holding the bowstring in place. The workers eased off the windlass, until the windlass cord went slack. Zopyros unhooked the end of the windlass cord from the bowstring and laid one of his missiles in the groove. This was a standard javelin, to the after part of which three small bronze vanes had been added, like the feathering of an arrow. A notch had been cut in its butt to take the bowstring. He teased the dart back until its butt rested against the string. To one of the apprentices he said:

"I don't know how far this thing will carry. Hagnon, go to the far end of the archery range to warn away anybody who might be strolling there."

"What if the dart comes right at me?" asked the boy.

"Be ready to duck behind a target."

The apprentice ran off. Archytas said: "Won't you feel silly, old boy, if after all your precautions the dart carries only spitting distance?"

"That's what we're here to learn. Is everybody ready? Here goes!"

Zopyros thrust the handle of the lever forward. The trigger sank down in its slot. The bowstring, released, whipped forward. There was a sharp crash of creaking wood and cloven air. The frame of the catapult quivered like a harp string, while the missile soared away with a shriek.

"Valetudo preserve us!" cried Segovax. "The thing will be flying clear to Carthage!"

The dart curved down and buried itself in the ground beyond the row of butts at the far end of the range. Archytas said:

"By the holy tetractys, I'll bet that's gone three plethra! Half again as far as an archer can shoot! Have you another dart?"

"The big boss ought to see the next one, if he's up and about. Segovax, why don't you carry the message? The soldiers at the palace will treat you with less insolence than they would one of us civilians."

The apprentice, looking pale, approached. "Master Zopyros! Was that nice, to send that thing whizzing over my head and scare me out of my wits?"

Segovax returned, escorting Dionysios and his bodyguards. The tyrannos affably greeted all present. The crew wound up the catapult again. Again the engine crashed and the dart soared away.

"Thessalian witchcraft!" muttered a bodyguard, making a sign against the evil eye.

"Zeus almighty!" said Dionysios. "I see you have one more dart. Try that, to prove this was not a fluke."

The third dart was discharged. Dionysios prowled around the engine, prodding and poking and asking questions. At last he said:

"Can you vary the range?"

"No, sir," said Zopyros. "You would have to set it up at a known distance from your target."

Dionysios stood in thought, fondling his beard. At last he said: "That too narrowly limits its use. Understand, my clear Zopyros, I think you have here the greatest advance in the military art since iron weapons took the place of bronze. Nevertheless I shall not be satisfied, to the point of ordering production, until you can vary the range. With your genius, I am sure you can overcome this obstacle." Seeing disappointment on Zopyros' face, he added: "Meanwhile, your salary is raised! to two and a half drachmai a day. And I will make it known that you are to have all the men and materials you wish. You shall have the very highest—what's that word again?—priority."

Dionysios patted Zopyros' shoulder and squeezed his arm. He added: "This success makes it necessary to tighten security precautions. As soon as the new apartment building is finished, you and your team shall move to Ortygia, along with the rest of the engineers. I shouldn't care to have you kidnapped by Carthaginian spies! I heard what befell you on your return from Carthage."

"You're right, sir. One such attempt is enough; next time I might not be so lucky."

The next ten-day Zopyros spent in thought. Although he sketched mechanism after mechanism, none satisfied him. There were two obvious ways to vary the range. One was to vary the angle at which the dart was discharged. The other was to vary the distance the bowstring was pulled back before it was released.

The first solution was mechanically simple. It meant pivoting the bow and its attached trough about the lateral axis. But it entailed making the whole engine much larger, taller, and heavier. The second solution—varying the length of pull—avoided this difficulty, but it involved a tricky mechanical problem.

At last Zopyros drew up plans for several small models, embodying alternative plans. One had a pivoted bow. Another had three triggers, spaced along the trough, instead of one. Another had a heavy bronze trigger mechanism sliding loosely in the missile groove and pulled back by the windlass.

Meanwhile, things did not go well at the Arsenal. Lithodomos developed curious ideas of running the organization. For one thing, he shared—or had acquired—Dionysios' hatred of Phoenicians. However, Dionysios was careful to conceal his feelings in the presence of the fourteen Punic engineers whom Zopyros had recruited in Carthage. In fact, the tyrannos went out of his way to be cordial to them. Lithodomos, on the other hand, used them rudely. He made remarks in their hearing about "treacherous, cowardly, sneaking moneygrubbers." He taunted them when he greeted them in the morning:

"Ē, Azruel, burnt any babies lately?" Or: "Swindled any widows and orphans lately?" Or: "Tortured any prisoners lately?"

The Phoenicians bowed low with forced, sour smiles. In time, two of them disappeared. Dionysios was furious when he heard about it, as he was sure that they would go to Carthage and reveal all they had learnt of the new weapons. Apparently he had words with Lithodomos, for the latter moderated his language towards the remaining Phoenicians.

Lithodomos also interfered in the details of the research projects. Although he obviously knew no more of engineering than Zopyros did of Etruscan divination, he was always bustling about, full of ideas and insisting that they be put into practice at once. The next day he would be back, countermanding his previous orders and issuing new ones. One project after another ground to a halt as its engineer despaired of carrying out impractical and mutually contradictory instructions.

Alexis and Pyres trailed their superior around the Arsenal with unhappy expressions. They tried to moderate Lithodomos' enthusiasms and to defend the project engineers against the sweeping changes the Arsenal master demanded. There were furious quarrels between Lithodomos and the engineers, among the engineers themselves, and between Lithodomos on one hand and Alexis and Pyres on the other. Scarcely a day passed without Zopyros' hearing shouts and pounding of desks from the gallery. Much as Zopyros detested Alexis, he found himself sympathizing with the shipwright. Alexis at least knew good engineering from bad.

One day Lithodomos appeared with a dark-skinned man of medium height and slender build, with a narrow, hatchetlike face. He wore a woolen robe, belted and fringed, to his ankles, and on his head a knitted cap with a long dangling tail. His glossy black hair, carefully curled and tended, hung to his shoulders, and his beard was likewise curled and oiled. In his hand he carried a walking stick with an ivory head carved in the form of a little dragon.

Lithodomos, coming upon Zopyros, said: "O Zopyros, meet Durea of Babylon."

The Babylonian touched the end of his walking stick to his nose and said, in Greek with a strong accent: "May the divine stars bring you peace, my son!"

"He's our new scientist," said Lithodomos. "They've got a universal science out there in the East, based upon the stars. Boy, nothing's too scientific for us now!" He smirked, clucked, and poked Zopyros in the ribs.

"What is Master Durea going to do?" said Zopyros.

"He's going to revolutionize our production, that's what. Every time we have a question about where a project should go on the floor, or what priority it should have, or which of two designs is the better, we ask Durea, see? He gets out on the roof and consuits the stars. Then he casts a horoscope and tells us how to take advantage of the occult influences of the different stars."

At lunch, when Zopyros neared his usual eating place on the margins of the Spring of Arethousa, Archytas looked up and said: "What's the matter? You look sick."

"I am. Have you met our new Babylonian wizard?"

"No. What's all this?"

Zopyros told him. Archytas clutched his head, crying: "No! Father Zeus, it can't be!"

"Ha-ha, that's what you think. Archytas, tell me: Why are most higher executives such a gang of knaves, fools, and incompetents?"

Archytas thought a while. "They're not, really."

"Oh, come on! You know—"

"No, it just seems that way. Many, like Pyres, are able enough. But, when a knave or a fool gets power, he can make so much more trouble for those around him. The people you're thinking of would be fairly harmless as slaves or unskilled workers. Their virtues—if any—would be the same as they are now, and they would curb their vices for fear of punishment. But give such a man power, and see what happens. His virtues are no greater, and he now thinks he can indulge his vices with impunity. After all, vices are more fun than virtues if you can choose between them."

Zopyros growled: "I'm fed up with these particular vices. I was hoping to get far enough ahead of my work so that I could strike the big boss for leave, to go to Messana. But with the chaos which that thickskin is creating, I don't see how I ever shall."

Three days later, Lithodomos called a meeting of the engineers in a corner of the Arsenal. When they were lined up, he gestured to Durea beside him and said:

"We're going to reorganize the layout according to the latest scientific principles, as applied by my special consultant here. All the projects are to be moved to new locations on the floor, the way they're laid out on this chart, see?" He held up a large sheet of papyrus. "In this way, every project will be where the occult emanations of the stars will best help it along."

Somebody groaned. Lithodomos looked around, reddening angrily.

"Who said that? Who said that? Anybody don't like the scientific way we do things around here, by Herakles, he can go jump in the Spring of Arethousa! I'm boss, and what I say goes. Now, call your workers together and start 'em moving your gear to the new locations shown on the chart."

"Right now?" said a voice.

"Yes, right now. What is it, Pausanias?"

"Master Lithodomos," said the blacksmith, "how am I supposed to move my forge, which weighs ten or twenty talents and is planted in the floor?"

Lithodomos frowned at his chart. "It says here that you're to move it only a few cubits, to this new location. I guess that little change won't make much difference. So leave it where it is, at least until the others have moved."

The other smiths clamored that they, too, should be allowed to remain where they were. When Lithodomos gave in to these, the other engineers began likewise to beg to be allowed to stay. At that, Lithodomos put his foot down.

"By Zeus!" he shouted. "Everybody but the smiths got to move to the places shown on the chart, and no back talk! If you want your jobs, you'd better hop to it!"

The engineers dispersed, muttering and buzzing. A great clamor arose in the Arsenal as workmen began picking up gear and moving it to new locations. A difficulty at once transpired. All the smiths, who had been allowed tb stay where they were, occupied areas shown on the chart as assigned to other teams. The other teams could not move their equipment to these places until the smiths vacated, and likewise could not vacate their own locations to make room for still other teams.

A frightful confusion resulted. Men sweated, argued, threatened, shouted, screamed, and called upon their various gods. Fights broke out among the workmen of different teams, who punched and kicked and pulled hair until their engineers stepped in to separate them. When the sun went down, the great move was not yet half completed.

Next dawn, as the men of the Arsenal assembled for work, a whisper passed among them: "Don't do a fornicating thing today, except what Thickskin directly orders!"

Some time later, Lithodomos appeared with Durea. Fists on hips, he glowered at the throng, who sat silent and immobile on their piles of gear. They stared into space or blankly returned the Arsenal master's glare. At last Lithodomos strode up to one engineer, barking:

"Euphron! Why aren't you moving to your new location?"

"I can't, sir, because Pollis' group still occupies it."

Lithodomos walked over to Pollis and repeated his question. Pollis answered: "I can't, sir. Hylas' group is still there."

"Gods on Olympos!" shouted Lithodomos. "You watch yourselves, you people! The President don't stand for any nonsense! If this is mutiny, I'll see you all drowned!" He swept out, followed by the Babylonian.

The workmen and engineers relaxed, gossiping and throwing dice. An hour later, Dionysios and Archytas appeared at the door of the Arsenal. The Arsenal people rose to their feet.

"Easy all," said Dionysios. "I have a few announcements to make. First, Arsenal Master Lithodomos has been sent on a short vacation. He has been overworking lately, with harm to his health." The beginnings of a cheer were quickly stifled. "Second, Assistant Arsenal Master Alexis has been transferred, at his own request, to the shipyards, since his ships are far enough along so that he will be more useful there than in the research division. Third, Archytas the Tarentine has been appointed in his place. Lastly, Special Consultant Durea, that great Babylonian scientist, has been recalled to Athens on urgent business and so will no longer be with us."

The men broke into broad grins, and even Dionysios' lips twitched. He continued: "For the next few days, until Lithodomos returns to duty, Pyres and Archytas will run the Arsenal. If any disagreement arises between them, they shall refer it to Philistos. Your first task will be to put all your gear back as it was before this unfortunate move."

At lunch, Archytas told Zopyros: "The big boss's one false step was not firing Thickskin altogether. I urged him to do so, but he shut me up pretty sharply."

Work went smoothly for the next few days. Zopyros decided that two of his small models, the one with multiple triggers and the one with a movable bronze trigger mechanism, showed enough promise to warrant making full-scale engines. One day in early Gamelion*(*Approximately January.), as he was drawing plans, a shadow made him look up. There stood Lithodomos, looking fit and rested. Archytas stood behind him.

"£ there, Zopyros old boy!" said the Arsenal master. "How's your little old catapults coming?"

"Well enough, sir."

"Look, I never did rightly understand these things. Give me an outline of what you're doing, see?"

Zopyros explained the workings of the models. Lithodomos pursed his lips and said:

"I like this one, the one with the pivoted bow and trough. Why aren't you making a full-scale one of that?"

"Because it means a greater size and weight for the same results."

"I still like it better, because you get a full draw on your bow at all ranges and therefore a full penetrating effect. When you shoot an ordinary bow at close range, you don't aim it up at the sky but only pull it halfway, do you?"

"But, sir, I—"

"Never mind. You build your first full-sized catapult to that model. Forget about the others for the time being."

Zopyros, feeling his temper slipping swiftly away, filled his lungs for a scorching retort. Then he caught a wink from Archytas and mumbled his acquiescence. Later he cornered Archytas and demanded:

"What in the name of the Dog are you doing, letting him interfere again? He'll ruin the project, as sure as death."

Archytas grinned mischievously. "Oh, I don't know. He might even be right, you know."

"That stupid—"

"He's not always so stupid as he looks."

"Of course not; he's much stupider! But stop joking. I want to know what's up. If it's another deal like that stargazer, I'll go back to Taras."

"Don't worry," said Archytas. "I'll handle him. Tell your people to go ahead and build the bed frame for one of your two favorite models, and to convert the existing one-range catapult to the design for the other. As soon as they have gotten far enough along for Thickskin to tell the difference, I'll show them to him and bring him around to your view."

"A neat trick, if you can do it. He were a clever teacher who could drive sense into a fool."

Gamelion passed in overcasts, wind, and rain. The new catapults began to take shape. Then, one day, Lithodomos again appeared with Archytas. He frowned at the catapult frames, saying:

"I thought I told you to work on the one with the pivoted trough and let the others go? Here I see two fixed troughs. What are you up to?"

"Let me explain, sir," said Archytas. "Zopyros has been in constant consultation with me. We started the pivoted catapult as you said but ran into technical difficulties. We—"

"What technical difficulties?"

"I'm telling you." Archytas spoke seriously but with animated gestures. "The trouble with the pivoted model is that in the hootnanny position, the gadget interferes with the thingamajig, and that throws the doohickey out of line. The only way to prevent this is to parallax the gimmick, and that keeps the thingumbob from equalizing. So, whichever way we approach the problem, the result is always the same: it doesn't work. You follow me, don't you, sir?"

Lithodomos judiciously stroked his beard. "Ye-es, I see what you mean. Funny I never thought of that. It would seem, though, like a couple of such brilliant fellows ought to be able to figure a way around it."

"We're trying to; by the holy tetractys, we're trying to! But meanwhile we thought, rather than waste the workmen's time, we'd better convert the pivoted model to one with a fixed trough, so that if worst comes to worst we shall have something to show the President.

We can always go back to the pivoted catapult if we solve this silly problem."

"Fine! I wish all my engineers was as clear-minded as you two. Keep up the good work!"