The Golden Wind

BOOK II — Agatharchides the Knidan

Making preparations for the Persephoneia kept me busy all next day. At the appointed time, Father Noptes led me to the chamber that the king used for intimate suppers. A pair of guards at the door searched me for weapons. The chamber was larger than any commoner's dining room, although smaller than the visitors' banquet hall.

Present were Hippalos, representing the Sister; Colonel Ananias, representing the Wife; the gray-bearded Agatharchides of Knidos, tutor to the young Ptolemies; Kydas the Librarian, and his assistant Ammonios. Kydas was big, fat, and white-bearded; Ammonios, a small, slender, swarthy, clean-shaven man. There were also an admiral, a man from the Treasury, and Physkon's First Secretary.

As we stood around making talk, eating snacks of salt fish and sipping a light, dry wine, the king waddled in with a golden wreath on his egg-bald pate. A pair of slaves steadied him by the elbows. After him came ten Celtic mercenaries with long hair in various shades of yellow, red, and brown, to guard his precious person.

Physkon greeted us affably, flipping his hand and naming each guest. His servants lowered him, groaning, into a huge armchair; for, as he said: "With my bulk I find it too hard to eat from a couch. You will, my good Eudoxos, excuse the barbarism. Let me see—you are a shipowner, are you not? The head of Theon's Sons of Kyzikos?"

"In name, O King," I replied. "I have lately left the routine of the firm to my brothers and my brother-in-law and my cousin. I travel to scout for new business and to gather material for my books."

"Do you find it difficult to write while being interrupted on business matters?"

"Extremely so, sire. That is why I have retired from active direction of the company."

"It is the same with me, Master Eudoxos. You know, I have published one book—a miscellany of observations on natural history—and should like to complete another before joining the majority. But whenever I try to devote a morning or an afternoon to my writing—phy! that is just the time some embassy arrives from the Romans or the Syrians or the Parthians with urgent business, or word comes of a frontier clash with the Ethiopians or the Judaeans, or one of the queens wants her allowance raised so she can buy a solid gold lamp stand. Away go the thoughts I had meant to commit to papyrus, and it takes me a ten-day to gather them again. Happy the man with a literary bent and no worldly business to distract him from it, like those featherless parrots in the Library! And now, tell me about your work in progress."

The king continued his probing questions throughout a repast of veal braised in a fish-and-raisin sauce, with onions and the disk-shaped loaves of Egyptian bread. A slave sampled each dish before the king partook of it. Physkon's comments showed him a very shrewd, intelligent man. I will not say that I liked him; his physical repulsiveness and the memory of his frightful crimes forbade. Nevertheless, I found myself making excuses for him. I told myself that the murder of one's kin was a matter of course in royal families. Besides, Physkon's crimes had been committed long ago, in his youth. For the last twenty or thirty years, his conduct had been no worse than that of most kings.

Afterwards, I decided that I had been so flattered by his attention that I had given him more credit than he deserved. His questioning meant, not that he found me especially wise or charming, but that I was the only man present whom he did not already know. Therefore, I was the one most likely to have something new and interesting to say.

Whatever Physkon's physical shortcomings, there was nothing wrong with his appetite. He ate twice as much as I did, and in those days I was deemed a hearty eater. Such, however, was his corpulence that his monstrous torso got in the way of his pudgy arms, and his servitors were kept busy wiping spilt food off the front of his robe.

When the food had been taken away and the servants had washed our hands, Physkon wheezed: "Gentlemen, I have called you here to discuss the plans for exploration that have been urged upon My Majesty, and if possible to choose amongst the alternatives." He snapped his fingers and said to a hovering flunkey: "Fetch Rama, will you?"

Then he turned to me. "This," he said, "is an Indian mariner whom my men rescued from shipwreck some months ago. His ship had lost its sail in a storm and drifted to the Ethiopian side of the Strait of Dernê, at the entrance to the Red Sea. Rama was the only survivor. My people brought him hither, and I have had men teaching him Greek, so that we could converse without an interpreter."

Physkon glowered at the two librarians, Kydas and his assistant. "You two keep wailing that you need more money for your polluted Library. Yet, when I ask a simple thing—for somebody who can teach Greek to an Indian—you're of no help at all. Your kept pedants can split hairs over the name of Achilles' dog, but none of them knows anything useful, like a foreign language. I had to dig an old Arabian sailor out of a waterfront grogshop ... But here he comes."

The flunkey led in the Indian—a man of medium height and sturdy build, almost as black as an Ethiop. He wore a short-sleeved jacket and a long skirt pulled up between his legs in back and tucked in at the waist. His long, black hair was tied in a bun at the nape of his neck, and on his head a long scarf was wound round and round and tied in a huge bow knot. He had a square face with a sharp, hooked nose; like most modern Hellenes, he was clean-shaven. His lips twitched in a nervous little smile, while the expression in his eyes remained somber and sad. Arriving before the king, he placed his palms together before his breast, as if praying, and bowed over them, first to the king and then to each of the other guests in turn.

The king snapped a finger. "Fetch a cushion for the gentleman." To the Indian he said: "Now, my good Rama, tell these men your proposal."

Rama sat cross-legged on the floor on his cushion and spoke bad Greek in a strange and disagreeable accent: a staccato, nasal monotone. He said:

"My lords, I—I from city of Barygaza come. In dry time— what you call winter—we are sailing from Barygaza to ports in—how you say—Arabia. Wind all time that way blow. In summer, she blow other way and take us back home. Sometimes big storm is coming. He to other place blow us. That to me happen. All my shipmates die. Thanks to Lord Buddha, I live.

"Now, I like to go home. You like to sail to India from Strait of Dernê, all in one sail, not stopping in Arab ports. Arabs are taking your goods, are taking your money, are leaving you no profit. If you straight to India sail, you are not needing to pay money to Arabs. You can to India sail in summer with six-month wind and sail back in winter. You much profit are making. You are sending ship; I be your pilot. Everybody happy is."

The admiral spoke: "O Rama, if your people know about this direct passage from India to the Red Sea, why have they not put it to use?"

"Indian ships small are. Indians not great sailors are, except me. Little ships are good only for fishing or for sailing to Arab ports. You are having big ships; you can from Egypt to India sail without stop."

Agatharchides the tutor was unrolling a map of the world on the floor. The king nodded to Hippalos, who began:

"Now, I think we ought, instead, to mount an expedition to the sources of the Nile—"

Colonel Ananias broke in: "Yes, yes, we know, my dear Hippalos. So, what will you find, but desert land swarming with wild beasts and wilder men? There is no wealth in that country save ivory and slaves, and those we can let the king of Ethiopia gather for us. I say we ought to open up a direct route to India, and so does my royal mistress. For gems, the folk of the Inner Sea will pay well, and the kingdom can turn a pretty profit on the Indian gems that pass through it."

"Your divine mistress," growled the king, "is mad about jewelry; it must be the Judaean influence. She hopes to find an unlimited source of gewgaws and somehow get the monopoly of them away from me. She should have been a Tyrian gem dealer. But I am not letting go of my exclusive rights to these goods for anybody. Go on, O Hippalos."

"Well—ah—there are several reasons for undertaking this expedition. As you have told us, sire, we must look to the south and southeast for expansion. In all other directions we are blocked by the might of Rome or of Parthia. Once we open up the lands to the south by exploration, trade, and road-building, the kingdom of Ethiopia will fall into our hands like a ripe fruit—"

"If you had ever fought Ethiopians, you would not so glibly compare them to ripe fruit," said Ananias.

High Priest Noptes seized the occasion to speak: "O King, the ancient records of the Egyptian priesthoods tell us that the Nile flows from the outer Ocean that encircles the world. Some modern geographers, thinking themselves wiser than their forebears—" (he looked hard at Agatharchides) "—deny this plain fact. If you will send Master Hippalos up the Nile, you will not only prove the wisdom of the Egyptian priests; you will also discover an alternative route to India. If a ship can sail from the Strait of Dernê to India, then it can also sail thither from the outlet, where the Ocean flows into the Nile."

"Rubbish!" exclaimed Agatharchides. "If the Nile flowed from the Ocean—as we Hellenes believed in the days of Homer—then the Nile, the Ocean, and the Inner Sea would all be interconnected. Now, Archimedes of Syracuse has demonstrated that, since water always flows downhill, the levels of any number of interconnected bodies of water, at rest, are identical. Therefore, the Nile could not flow from the Ocean to the Inner Sea, because it would exhibit the same level at both terminals and would hence remain stagnant."

"Water flows downhill only?" said Physkon. "How about when it is forced upwards through a pipe, as in the aqueduct system at Pergamon?"

"I should have said, water that has an upper surface open to the atmosphere, sire," said Agatharchides, flushing.

Ammonios, the Assistant Librarian, put up a timid hand. When the king gave him the nod, he said: "O King: there is a story that the Nile rises from a fountain somewhere in Ethiopia and flows thence in two directions: north to us and south to the Ocean." Bending over the map, whose corners were held down by slaves to keep it from rolling up again, he illustrated his points with his forefinger. "If true, that would reconcile the ideas of the Reverend Noptes and Master Agatharchides."

Physkon: "Well, Agatharchides, which course do you advise?"

"Oh, sire, I favor the Nile expedition—if only to discredit the pretensions of our friend Noptes to the wisdom of his ancient priesthoods. It is time the enigma of the source of the Nile were settled. Such a journey would also prove my theory, that the annual rise of the Nile is occasioned by seasonal rains on mountains in the far interior of Africa. I am not much concerned whether the wretched river flows from the Ocean, or to the Ocean, or has nought to do with the Ocean. I only desire to ascertain the true circumstance."

"It's all very well for you," said the king, "to talk of sending expeditions hither and yon to settle your intellectual puzzles. But by Kyrenê's twelve postures, expeditions cost money, which I must furnish, forsooth! What tangible profit can you offer, to pay the cost of this project?"

The Nile party exchanged looks until Hippalos said: "As a matter of fact, O King, we have found some possible gains. Show him the scroll, Kydas."

Ammonios produced a. battered roll of papyrus, which he handed to Kydas. The latter partly unrolled it and held it up, grunting: "You tell him, lad. I can't remember all these ancients' names."

"We have here," said Ammonios, "a part of the Aithiopika of Myron of Miletos, a work that we thought to have perished—"

"Who was he?" asked the king.

"An Ionian philosopher who served as tutor at the court of Xerxes, about three and a half centuries ago. King Xerxes sent Myron and a Bactrian cavalry officer named Bessas on a mission up the Nile. Unfortunately, the ends of the scroll are missing, so we do not know what the mission was, or even whether they reached their goal. I came upon this a few days past, when Hippalos and I were looking through the battered old books to decide which were worth recopying."

"What does he know about such things?" said Physkon.

Hippalos: "Oh, I was the buyer for the Library of Pergamon before the Romans took it over."

"So?" said the king.

Ammonios pointed to the map. "Myron tells how, in passing through Ethiopia, he discovered that the Nile flows from some great lakes, or inland seas, flanked by snow-covered mountains. And he learnt of a castle beside one of these lakes, built by the exiled Ethiopian king, Takarta. In this castle, the story goes, was a vast treasure in gold and jewels."

"Did they find this treasure?"

"We don't know. The manuscript breaks off where the party leaves Tenupsis, the capital of the southern Nubae, and begins its struggle through the great swamps of that region."

"Perhaps," said Agatharchides, "the Nile flows hither out of these lakes, and another river flows out of them in the opposite direction until it encounters the Ocean. That would explain the belief of Noptes' old priests. I would give a lot to find out."

"Do you think the treasure might still be there?" said the king.

"It's a possibility, sire," said Hippalos.

"Then why did you not tell me of this manuscript before?"

"Why—ah—I wasn't sure what we had found at first, and

I didn't want to raise Your Divine Majesty's hopes and then dash them."

"Ha!" said Physkon, wagging a fat forefinger. "I know better, my good Hippalos. You hoped I should authorize this expedition without your having said aught about the treasure, which you then hoped to find and keep to yourself, unbeknownst to me. Naughty, naughty!"

"Oh, no, sire! By Zeus on Olympos, no such disloyal thought—"

"Spare me your excuses, young man. I long ago learnt that men are a wicked, sinful lot, and that he who entreats them on any other assumption is only storing up trouble for himself." He turned to Kydas and Ammonios. "Well, what do my learned librarians advise?"

"We favor the Nile route," said Kydas. "If the expedition succeed, even to a small degree, it will prove the practical value of your Library and persuade you to devote more of the kingdom's resources to maintaining and enlarging it."

"Including, of course, higher salaries for you two," snorted Physkon, who then asked the remaining guests what they thought. The admiral favored the direct Indian voyage, because he thought it would be useful to establish a permanent Egyptian naval presence on the Indian coast. The man from the Treasury agreed, on the ground that it would be cheaper to refit a transport of the Red Sea fleet for the voyage than to outfit a land expedition through Ethiopia, with all its pack animals, soldiers, and equipment. The First Secretary also preferred the Indian voyage, because the Nile journey would involve diplomatic complications with Ethiopia.

"King Nakrinsan died within the year," he said, "and they have a new king, Tangidamani. We have not yet sounded out his attitude towards us. If we begin by demanding to send a well-armed party through his kingdom, he will at once suspect a threat. We must approach him gradually and cautiously."

"Well!" said the king. "Four of you have spoken for the Nile; four—not counting Master Rama—for the Strait of Dernê." He turned to me. "Now, my dear Eudoxos, you have heard the arguments both ways. As an unprejudiced outsider and a learned geographer, you can give objective advice. Will you speak?"

Poor Physkon did not know that I, too, had a personal interest to serve. As soon as Rama came in, I recalled the words of Glaukos, the old Kyzikene physician, about the possibility of an Indian cure for my masculine weakness. Then I knew that I had to get to India by fair means or foul. I at once began to muster arguments for the Indian voyage. At this I was so successful that, by the time the king asked my opinion, I had convinced myself that the Indian voyage was the only logical course to follow. [O Theon: For obvious reasons, the foregoing paragraph had better come out. Father.]

"There is much to be said on both sides," I began. "I, too, should like to solve the riddle of the source of the Nile. I must, however, point out that, for adding to human knowledge, India promises more than Africa. India is a vast country, as yet but little known. There are rumors of wonders like dog-headed men and mouthless folk who subsist by smelling the perfume of flowers. Doubtless many of these tales are false, but we shall never know for certain until we send trustworthy people thither to find out.

"Commercially speaking, India is a better choice than Africa. India has a large population of comparatively civilized folk, with great cities and skillful manufactures—"

Hippalos broke in, saying to Rama: "How about it, O Rama? Is it true that in India the roof tiles are of gold and the streets are paved with pearls?"

"You crazy are," replied Rama. "This place here much richer than India is."

"You see, sire?" said Hippalos to the king. "These tales of the fabulous wealth of India are vastly exaggerated."

"Let Master Eudoxos continue without interruption, pray," growled the king. I resumed:

"Even if it be exaggerated, as Master Hippalos says, there is still far more profit in trade with such folk than with a thinly scattered race of bare-arsed savages, such as dwell in Africa beyond Ethiopia. And, they say, beyond India lies the unknown land whence comes our silk. For aught we know, the silk country may be as large and as populous as India; but no Hellene has been there to see.

"As regards the source of the Nile—since we know that the direct route is difficult, what of a suspicious Ethiopian king and boundless swamps—it were perhaps better to approach the region indirectly."

"How do you mean?" asked the king.

"How far have Your Majesty's ships pursued the African coast beyond the Southern Horn?" [* Cape Guardafui.]

"A few leagues [** One league (parasange) = 3.5 miles.] only. They have a six-month, seasonal wind there, like that which Master Rama describes. That is why I am inclined to believe him. But around the Southern Horn, the wind blows north and south instead of northeast and southwest. My captains fear being trapped by the wind from the north, against which they would be unable to beat back around the Horn for months at a time. It is a barren coast, they tell me, inhabited only by a few naked black fisher-folk, without harbors or even roadsteads where one can be sure of food and water."

"Well, with these periodical winds, your men could sail down the coast at the end of the north wind and back on the beginning of the south one. If they explored the rivers that empty there, they might find the one that rises from the same source as the Nile. In the meantime, your trade with India by the direct route would pay for any number of expeditions elsewhere.

"As for the Nile journey," I continued, "I don't deny that it has points in its favor. I do not believe, however, that Your Majesty should count on paying for it by means of any treasure trove. Perhaps the tale was true—but more likely not; you know how people exaggerate. Even if it were, Myron of Miletos may well have won through to the treasure, in which case it is no longer there. Even if he failed, the existence of the hoard was known. So, during the last three centuries, somebody else may have made off with it. And even in the extremely unlikely case of the treasure's being still in place, do you think King Tang-whaf s-his-name would let us bring it back through his kingdom without grabbing it? No, sire, I should not count on finding any such gryphon's eggs at the end of our quest."

Physkon yawned. "Our Majesty thanks you, Master Eudoxos. I think that concludes tonight's discussion. I shall ponder the matter and make my will known in a few days. Good health, all!"

Physkon's servants heaved him up out of his chair and steadied his tottering steps out the door.

Next morning, Hippalos took the whole Kyzikene delegation in wagons to the Canopic Gate at the eastern end of the city. We passed through the barracks of the mercenaries and through the Judaean Quarter. The purpose of this journey was to prepare us for the next day's events. Besides the religious ceremonies and the athletic contests, the king meant to stage one of those monster parades whereby the Ptolemies and the Seleucids amuse and appease their subjects. We were to march in this procession. Several other delegations and groups were there also, as well as contingents from the three Ptolemaic armies and several elephants from the royal menagerie.

Hippalos was in the thick of things, giving orders right and left and answering the frantic questions of scores of paraders. He handled everything smoothly, joking with his questioners when they became upset at delays and contradictory instructions and what they considered dishonorable places in the procession. When it was all over and we were rumbling back, to the palaces, I told him:

"I must say, you seem to have a knack for this sort of thing."

He laughed. "I learnt the trick when I was Superintendent of Festivals for King Nakrinsan of Ethiopia."

"Were those five elephants I saw all the king has? Doesn't he have a regular elephant corps in his army?"

"No, that's all. After the fourth Ptolemy won the battle of Raphia, the elephant catching organization in the Red Sea was allowed to run down. Now we capture only one every five or ten years, to keep a few for parades."

"I wonder that the kings should let so fell a weapon rust from lack of care."

"There are two reasons," said Hippalos. "One is that the weapon isn't really so formidable. Northern barbarians like Celts and Scythians flee from the beasts, but we are not menaced by any such people. And civilized troops quickly learn to rout the elephants with noise, fire, and missiles. In the last century, the elephants have lost more battles than they won, by stampeding back through the troops of their own side."

"And the other reason?"

"As soon as we began to assemble an elephant corps, the Romans would be down upon us with demands that we slaughter the poor beasts, as they did in Syria. Nowadays we all dance to Rome's piping, and those heroes become frantic with fear when any other power has more than a feeble military force. So why beg for trouble for the sake of a nearly worthless weapon? I learnt the limitations of the beasts when I was elephantarch for King Mikipsa of Numidia."

After lunch and a nap, I ran into Agatharchides, sitting in the shade in one of the palace courtyards and making notes with a stylus on a waxen tablet.

"Rejoice!" I said. "Have you no royal pupils this afternoon?"

"No, they are all rehearsing for tomorrow's march past."

"You know, Master Agatharchides, I have never seen your famous Library. If you would care to show me ..."

He shut his tablet with a snap. "Delighted, old boy, delighted. Wait whilst I get my stick. Alexandria has its allotment of savage dogs and tough characters."

"I'll get mine, too, and meet you here."

I fetched my stick—no dainty little cane, good only for punishing puppy dogs, but a solid, four-foot oaken cudgel— and gave Gnouros the afternoon off. A few moments later, we were walking south on Argeus Avenue on our way to the Library, which lay about ten furlongs southwest of the palaces. I asked the tutor:

"Has His Divine Majesty decided between the two proposals?"

"I saw him this morning, but he did not say. I suspect he has; but then, Physkon never tells one anything unless he has a reason for doing so."

"Which do you think he has chosen?"

"I suspect yours, from the tenor of his questions. He sought my advice on the organization of the party, and he seemed anxious that the commander have maritime experience. He even asked me if I should like to head the expedition."

"What did you tell him?"

Agatharchides: "I respectfully declined the offer. I'm a bit elderly—in my sixties—for anything so strenuous."

"I'm not much younger than you, but I feel I could command such a journey."

"You're a powerful man who doesn't look his age, but I know my physical limitations."

"Whom did you recommend for captain?"

"I told the king that Ananias the Judaean was the ablest of his commanders with whom I was personally acquainted, despite his lack of marine experience. Physkon was not prepossessed by the idea, since Ananias' first loyalty is to Kleopatra the Wife. Besides, he would probably not wish to go, because he suffers excruciatingly from seasickness."

"How about his brother? I thought he would be at the supper last night"

Agatharchides grinned slyly. "The same; and, anyway, I fear that Chelkias' royal mistress has too much use for him to let him out of her sight. He and she are like that—" (he held up two fingers pressed together)"—and also like that." (He rotated his hand until the two fingers were horizontal.) "Everybody is aware of it, including the king; but we don't mention it in the presence of Physkon, unless we are impatient to learn gold mining from the inside."

"I wonder that General Chelkias isn't breaking rocks in Nubia."

"Oh, Physkon doesn't mind; it keeps the Wife out of his way. He's beyond such interests, anyhow. So long as nobody brings the matter into the open, he prefers to turn a blind eye. There are other able royal servants; but most are adherents of one queen or the other, so Physkon doesn't trust them. His own entourage consists mostly of Egyptians, and your modern Egyptian is a peace-loving, stay-at-home sort of faintheart, no man for a daring expedition. And his naval captains, he feels, are too routine-minded."

"Whom, then, will he choose?"

"I don't know, but it wouldn't astonish me to see Hippalos get it."

"That entertainer?"

"Yes. He's a versatile individual, who has managed to keep in the good graces of Physkon and the Wife, despite being one of the Sister's faction."

"Has Hippalos really been all the places and done all the things he claims?"

"What he tells you is at least half true, I should say. As a mere boy, he escaped from the Romans' destruction of Corinth and has been living by his wits ever since."

At last we reached the Library section. This was a huge complex of buildings, not so large as the mass of palaces at the base of Point Lochias but still covering more than a city block. Actually, there were two groups of buildings. One was the Library proper; the other was the Museum, which housed the classrooms and laboratories of the professors of the various sciences. As we arrived first at the Museum, Agatharchides took me through it.

Despite the royal parsimony of which the scientists complained, some remarkable pieces of research were in progress. For instance, one man was working on a geared device—a kind of box, two feet high, with dials on its faces and a knob to one side. When one turned the knob (according to the proud engineer) the dials would go round and show the positions of the heavenly bodies on any chosen date. There were models of catapults and other siege engines. There were elaborate water clocks and devices for measuring the angles of the stars. There were pumps for fighting fires and irrigating fields. Some engineers were trying to get power from flowing water; others, from rushing wind; still others, from heated air or boiling water.

Agatharchides introduced me until I could no longer remember names. Then we passed on to the section devoted to the life sciences. When I met Kallimachos, the head of the medical school, I jokingly asked:

"Well, when are you fellows going to find a cure for age?"

Kallimachos smiled. "That's a long way off, Master Eudoxos. Talk to some half-literate country doctor, and hell assure you he knows the cause and cure of all your ills. Talk to one of us, who are really trying to push back the bounds of knowledge, and you'll hear a different tale. What we know about the human body is but a drop in an amphora compared to what we have yet to learn."

We commiserated with Kallimachos and crossed the street to the Library, where book rolls were stacked in their pigeonholes to the ceiling and the endless rows of bookcases receded far into the distance. We found Ammonios at work at a desk surrounded by a railing.

"Rejoice!" said Agatharchides. "How goes the world's intellectual ganglion today?"

Ammonios clutched at his head. "Do you know what that idiot wants to do now?"

"What?"

"He has some imbecile scheme for reclassifying the books alphabetically by the names of the authors' native cities: Athenians, then Babylonians, and so on."

"Many good-byes to him!" exclaimed Agatharchides.

"Who's the idiot?" I asked.

Agatharchides whispered in my ear: "His superior, the brave General Kydas. Kydas has two assistants: Ammonios to run the Library, and the Priest of the Muses to head the Museum. Being barely literate, he usually leaves them alone; but every now and then he thinks it incumbent upon him to earn his remuneration and issues some well-meant but witless instruction. Once he decided that the Library ought to dispense with everything composed before the time of Alexander the Great, on the hypothesis that it was obsolete. We talked him out of that; then he proposed that all books should be halved in length by deleting and discarding alternate sheets, so they shouldn't occupy so much space. Then—what was that other scheme, Ammonios?"

"He proposed that everything in the Library be rewritten in simple language, with all the long words and hard concepts left out," said Ammonios bitterly. "Making culture available to the masses, he called it. The originals were to be sold or burnt. And now this."

"Cheer up," said Agatharchides, clapping Ammonios on the back. "We'll circumvent him yet. I have brought Master Eudoxos for his first visit to the Library."

Cordially, Ammonios took us in tow. He showed us the principal sights of the Library, such as the original, autograph copies of the plays of Aischylos, Sophokles, and Euripides. The third Ptolemy had tricked the Athenians out of these manuscripts by borrowing them, promising to return them and posting a bond of fifteen talents. Then he kept them, sent back copies, and cheerfully forfeited the bond. {O Theon: Let this teach you never to trust a king! Father.]

A clerk came up to Ammonios, saying: "Sir, we have two noisy readers."

"Well, hush them up," said Ammonios.

"One—one is a fierce-looking barbarian, and I dare not."

Ammonios snorted and followed the clerk to a distant alcove, whither we accompanied him. We found Varsako the Numidian arguing over a map with a young man who, I learnt, was Artemidoros of Ephesos. This Artemidoros was making his first visit to Alexandria and cherished ambitions to become a geographer. When he learnt who I was, he practically fawned on me. He and the Numidian were disputing over the shape of Africa. Although Varsako did look a bit wild in his catskin turban and golden bangles, he quieted down peaceably enough when Ammonios spoke to him.

"Let me see that," said Agatharchides, bending over the map.

"The Numidian gentleman," explained Artemidoros, "claims that Africa extends much farther south than this map shows. I say that's impossible, because ..."

The three were off on a hot dispute, hissing arguments in an undertone. The Hellenes relied on quotations from Homer, Hekataios, and other ancient worthies, whilst the Numidian stubbornly insisted that the nomadic tribes south of his land told of vast plains and forests beyond the desert, which could never be fitted into the map. I had done enough actual exploring to distrust the ancients; but I had something else in mind than getting involved in this war of words.

"If you will excuse me for a while," I said, and walked Ammonios back to his desk. On the way, he showed me some of the oddities of the Library: a man composing a treatise on the use of the vocative case in Homer; a man who believed that the world was a hollow sphere with us on the inside; a man who was writing an epic on the fall of Carthage without using the letter omega; and a man who thought the world was about to end, when certain planets came into conjunction, and who wanted to do all the reading possible before that distressing event.

I hastened back to the Museum and found Kallimachos the physician. He was lecturing on the human skull, so I had to wait. When he had dismissed his class and put his skull away, I said:

"O Kallimachos, might I talk to you in strict privacy?"

"Dear me, what's up?" he said. "Let me see ..." We wandered about the building, but every room we passed was occupied. At last we came to a locked room, and Kallimachos took a quick look up and down the hall. Seeing nobody, he produced a key and unlocked the door.

"In, quickly!" he whispered. "I'm not supposed to show you this; but it's the only place available."

Inside the large room were models and drawings of cryptic devices and some of the devices themselves.

"Zeus, Apollon, and Demeter!" I said. "What's all this?"

Kallimachos explained the purposes of these strange machines; the temples of Alexandria used them to awe their worshipers. For instance, there was an arrangement of tilting and sliding mirrors to make spirits appear before the sitters at a s6ance. There was a magical pitcher that seemingly changed water into wine. I exclaimed:

"By Bakchos' balls, what shameless hypocrites the priests of those temples must be!"

"Why do you say that?"

"If they weren't atheists, they'd fear that the gods they pretend to worship would smite them for taking such liberties."

"Not at all, my dear fellow. Most are as pious as the next man. If the gods want worship and sacrifice, they ought to cooperate with their priests by doing a miracle now and then, to keep the flock faithful. When the gods shirk the job, the priests must need fake these miracles. Of course, a priest's idea of a god may differ from that of an ordinary worshiper."

"How?"

"Some of these priests, despite the nonsense they talk, are modern, educated men. Therefore they are skeptical about gods like Homer's, always getting drunk, seducing one another's wives, and clouting one another over the head like barbarian warriors. They conceive the gods as invisible, impersonal forces, whose nature can be grasped only dimly, if at all, by our fallible senses. Now, what did you wish to see me about?"

I told Kallimachos about my loss of virility, adding: "I thought that, if any new discoveries would shed light on this problem, this would be the place to inquire."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, best one," said Kallimachos. "That is one of ten thousand things we ought to know about the human body but don't. Otototoi! We are not making such progress in medicine here in Alexandria as once we did."

"Why? Lack of money for research?"

"It's partly that; but the main reason is the law against dissection."

"What's that?" I asked.

"Sixty or seventy years ago, when Herophilos and Erasistratos were cutting up corpses, they were really learning things. But the Egyptians insist that bodies should be embalmed and preserved forever. When they heard that the Museum was carving corpses for the base, blasphemous purpose of improving the health of mankind, they rioted until the hen king forbade all dissection of human beings, alive or dead. And that law still stands."

"Couldn't you persuade the present king—"

"Not this king! He relies upon the superstitious Egyptians and will do anything to curry favor with them. That's one reason he has cut our appropriations down to a shadow of their former selves; the Egyptians have no use for the Library or the Museum, so he saves his gold and placates the natives at the same time." The old physiologist sighed. "Alas! The only things that people seem to care about in this degenerate age are weird new religious cults. About science, they know and care nothing and prefer not to learn. But to return to your flaccid member: Do you eat lots of snails, eggs, and sea food?"

"Yes."

"I suppose you have tried all the commercial aphrodisiacs?"

"Yes, and found them ineffective, save for irritating the bladder."

"As far as we are concerned, they are worthless; but we know of nothing better."

"I've heard that the wise men of India might know a cure."

He shrugged. "They might; they're said to do some remarkable things. The only way to find out would be to go to India."

Back at the Library, I rejoined Agatharchides, Artemidoros, and Varsako. We talked in hushed tones about questions of geography until Ammonios came to us, saying:

"I'm sorry, gentlemen, but it is closing time."

Sure enough, the sun had set. The light was dimming, and readers were streaming out of the Library. The four of us started towards Point Lochias, then decided to eat at a local tavern instead of returning to the palaces. As Agatharchides put it:

"It's pleasant to eat sometimes without the sensation that somebody is surreptitiously watching you from a secret passage."

We found a place that had enough food on hand to fill all of us, thus saving us a trip to a market to buy the materials. During the repast, Agatharchides bewailed the fact that he could not afford to publish several works he had written.

"I have composed a history of Europe, and a history of Asia," he said, "and a survey of the Red Sea. But Physkon has stopped all money for new publication."

"Could you ask him for the money as a personal favor, to show his appreciation of the splendid education you've given his sons?"

"I have, as often as I dared, to no avail. He seems to think that a scholar should subsist on barley porridge and beautiful thoughts."

After the meal, when the others were getting ready to leave, I said: "You two go on; I want to talk to Agatharchides in confidence. Where are you living, Artemidoros?'

"I have rented a room on the waterfront, near Cape Lochias. I'll show Varsako back to the palaces."

When they had gone, I ordered more wine and said to Agatharchides: "My friend, if the Physkon chooses the direct voyage to India—which you seem to think likely—I want the command of it."

Agatharchides gasped with surprise. "By Earth and the gods! You, an outsider, virtually unknown in Alexandria?"

"Yes, me. Think of my qualifications! I'm an old sea captain with plenty of experience, including the exploration of unknown coasts. I'm a competent geographer and not so unknown as all that; both Hippalos and Artemidoros know my work. Best of all, I don't belong to the faction of either of the Kleopatras."

"Ye-es; I see. Mmmm. Why do you desire this post, when you have a flourishing business back in Kyzikos?"

"I have my reasons. Say I lust for the explorer's immortal fame, if you like; or say that I've seen the entire Inner Sea and want to try something new. Say what you please, so long as you get me the job."

"Dear Herakles, man, what can I do about this?"

"Physkon may not appreciate your scientific labors, but he sets some store by your advice on personnel. The next chance you get, put my name forward."

"Well, I don't know—"

"I'm not asking something for nothing. You want to publish your books, don't you? Well, I may not have the wealth of a Ptolemy, but neither have I a court and a kingdom to maintain. Therefore, I can afford to subsidize your publication. Get me that captaincy, and publication is yours."

He took a long drink to cover his feelings, but I saw a hopeful gleam in his eye. Still, as a veteran of the Ptolemaic court, where there's a scorpion beneath every stone, he was going to scrutinize the bait before taking the hook.

"Will you return to Kyzikos with your delegation and then come back here?" he asked.

"No. These ceremonies will soon be over, and my colleagues can fend for themselves when they're back on board the Persephonê."

"I shall have to consider this," he murmured. "For one thing, I ought to know more about you. If I advise Physkon, and he accepts my advice, and then things go badly, I shall be lamed."

"That's easy," said I, and began a tale of my adventures in the Inner and Euxine seas. If I slightly magnified the parts I played—well, I am sure I lied less than Hippalos had done to his many employers.

We finished our wine, paid up, and left. The streets were now fully dark, save for an occasional lantern or torch in front of some place of nocturnal amusement. Twenty years earlier, I should have made a night of it in these establishments, belike ending up with a free-for-all; but the years blunt one's taste for wine, women, and riot.

We found ourselves entering a block that was utterly dark, since it was the beginning of Thargelion and the night was moonless. We had to watch our step for potholes. I was telling Agatharchides how I had obtained Gnouros, a Scythian peasant about to be slain for some trivial fault by his nomadic overlords, when I heard a disturbance ahead.

"What's that?" said Agatharchides. "A robbery? My vision is no longer so keen at night."

As I came closer, I saw that several men had two others backed against a house wall. Shouting "Help!" the two victims were holding five attackers off with kicks and stabs.

"Let's run before they see us!" said Agatharchides.

"By Our Lady Persephone, what sort of man are you?" I said, and charged the group.

A two-handed whack over the ear stretched one robber senseless, and a thrust in the stomach with the end of my stick sent another staggering off, bent double and clutching his middle. As a third thief turned towards me, one of the victims leaped upon his back, bore him to the ground, and twisted the rusty smallsword out of his hand.

Agatharchides came up, puffing. Seeing themselves outnumbered, the remaining miscreants fled.

"By the gods and spirits!" said the man who knelt on the robber's back. "Aren't you Eudoxos and Agatharchides?"

We had rescued Artemidoros and Varsako. It took us half the night to fetch the watch, drag our two prisoners to a magistrate, and answer endless questions. But then Physkon's justice worked fast The magistrate heard our stories, asked the prisoners what they had to say, listened to their tales, and informed them that they were telling a pack of lies. He then sentenced them to life in the mines and ordered them taken to the torture room for questioning about their accomplices.

When we had been dismissed, Agatharchides said: "Well, this evening has taught me one thing. If ever I find myself in a tight predicament, I want Eudoxos of Kyzikos to come charging in to rescue me. If any representation of mine will effect it, you shall have the captaincy of the expedition!"

Since I had to march in the middle of the parade, I never did get a view of the whole thing. We formed up at the Canopic Gate, where thousands of paraders milled in confusion and Hippalos galloped about on a horse, straightening them out and sending them off, group by group. The procession was only two hours late in starting, which I suppose is pretty good for that sort of thing.

Xenokles and I marched at the head of our delegation, bearing poles between which hung a banner reading KYZIKOS. We trudged the whole length—thirty-five stadia—of Canopic Street, through the old Sun Gate and the main part of the city, breaking up at the Moon Gate at the west end of town. As soon as we had been dismissed, I hastened around the block to see those parts of the parade that were following us.

I was not sorry to miss the herds of Physkon's prize sheep and cattle, or the delegations from the other Hellenic cities. I did see the five elephants in their cloth-of-gold drapes and other animals from Physkon's menagerie: a two-horned African rhinoceros, a striped horse, several lions, leopards, and cheetahs, and antelopes of a dozen kinds.

There were also a number of freak objects carried in carts, which the Ptolemaic workshops had turned out to amuse the Alexandrines. These included a golden 135-foot Bacchic wand, a ninety-foot silver spear (made, I suspect, from a ship's mast), and a 180-foot golden phallus with a nine-foot golden star dangling from its end. The phallus, made of wicker work and covered with gilded cloth, enabled the reigning monarch to make a joke about having the biggest prick in the world. Needless to say, everybody went into gales of laughter on these occasions, although that joke had worn pretty thin from a century of repetition.

Back at the palace, I soaked my feet and relaxed over a jug of wine. Since my roommates on the delegation were out shopping for their womenfolk, I was alone when Hippalos came in, covered with sweat and dirt. I picked up an extra cup to fill it, then hesitated when he sat down opposite me, staring fixedly at me with a curious expression. He seemed to be smiling and scowling at the same time.

"Well?" I said at last, "what is it, man?"

"Furies take you, stinker!" he exclaimed at last.

"Oh?" said I, setting down my cup in case he wanted to make a fight of it. He had a twenty-year advantage of me, but I was still the larger of us and had been in enough rough-and-tumbles to think I could handle him. "What's on your mind?"

"The king took your advice on the expedition. It's going to India by Rama's route. And, by the gods and goddesses, you are to be captain instead of me. Oh, I could have buggered you with a hot iron when I heard it!"

"Herakles! I'm sorry you're disappointed, but we can't both win."

Then he broke into a broad grin, got up, and slapped me on the shoulder. "Don't look so solemn, old boy! I won't bite. Pour me a drink, as you were going to. True, I was as angry at first as a dog whose bone has been snatched. But then I thought: the stars probably intended things this way. Besides, I shan't miss the journey altogether; the king has appointed me your second."

"He has?"

"Yes, sir. You don't think he'd send an outsider like you off with a costly cargo, and nobody from the court to keep an eye on you, do you? So watch your step, old boy." He gazed dreamily off into space. "I have always wanted to study the wisdom of the mysterious East—not this Egyptian fakery, but the real East"

If he wanted to dabble in oriental superstition, that was his affair. I began at once to think of the practical aspects of the journey. "What goods do you think we ought to ship out, and what shall we try to stock for the return journey?"

"We shall have to ask Rama's advice. From what he's told me, I imagine glassware, textiles dyed with Tyrian purple, and wine are our best wagers. In addition, he says there's a ready market in India for copper, tin, lead, and antimony—and of course gold and silver coin, which fetch a jolly good rate of exchange."

"How about olive oil? Does the olive grow in India?"

"I don't know, but we might try it"

"And what goods should we try to buy there?"

"We must wait to see what they have to offer; but I think we can get some bargains in silk, cotton, ivory, spices, perfumes, and—ah—precious stones and pearls."

"Besides trading Physkon's cargo, can we do some dealing on our own account?"

"Zeus, no! At least, not if he finds out about it. He says we're just his hired men and shall therefore do no trading of our own. He guards his royal monopoly like a lioness defending her cubs."

"Pest! As usual, the potbellied backer who sits at home gets the loaf, while the fellow who does the work and takes the risk gets the crumbs. Isn't there any way around this silly rule?"

"There may be." He winked. "I'll discuss it with you anon, where there are no walls with ears in them."