Athena's Son (15 page)

Berenike held up her hand. “I’m not done.” She reached up and pulled the necklace off her slender neck. At first Archimedes thought they were a string of copper beads, but when the light glowed through them, it revealed a string of amber beads varying from about a quarter inch to an inch in diameter. “They’re amber, a gift from my father. Since he gave them to me, I am sure he would not mind that they are used to help solve his murders.” She held out the necklace to Archimedes.

He reached out timidly, not because of any value he placed on them, but because just moments ago they were around the slim neck of this beautiful Muse. They were still warm when he held them. He knew the Greeks also called amber
electron
and if they were rubbed together they can pick up small metal shavings, similar to a magnet. He took a knife and cut the bronze wire, causing the beads to roll around the table like grapes. He picked up a handful and passed them to Berenike. “Would you find which beads fit the new tube?” Archimedes curled his entrance scroll so it was the same gauge as the bronze tube. “Use this scroll to measure them while I drill a wider hole in the box for the bronze tube.”

Berenike was dropping different beads down the inverted scroll and the ones that were too small made a ringing sound as they bounced on the marble floor. “Do you have a name for this contraption?”

“
I call it the pneumatic kannē. Pneumatic means wind and kannē is a reed. A windy cane,” he proudly announced.

“
Hmm,” Berenike looked at it skeptically. “Windy cane, kannē, or cannon, or whatever you want to call it doesn’t really describe it accurately. I’d call it dead bat in a box.”

Archimedes laughed. “OK, from now on it will simply be called the dead bat.”

Kleitos was waiting just as he promised. The smirk that smeared across his face showed a self-assurance that he would put this arrogant schoolboy in his place. Kleitos had chosen a spot away from the lighthouse because he didn’t want to get caught with the blowgun. A stand of palm trees and scrub brush growing on a low mound hid them from view. Several Medjay were patrolling nearby and Archimedes was concerned they would detain a group of children walking around with a blowgun and a strange box. So he carried the pneumatic cannon concealed under a cloth.

“
Who’s the girl?” Kleitos pointed at Berenike with the blowgun. She insisted on coming along to see the dead bat in action and to get a look at the clue that Archimedes thought so vital to the murders. Archimedes didn’t want Berenike to come for fear the pharaoh’s daughter would scare off Kleitos and the blowgun along with him. Archimedes finally relented when she agreed to dress like a common child.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chapter 21

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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