Archimedes stood beside the fountain waiting. It was a hot day. The yellow cloak was itchy and uncomfortably heavy, even in the shade of the garden. He scratched surreptitiously, then went to the fountain and splashed some water over his face. Footsteps sounded softly in the colonnade beyond, and he looked up, face dripping, and saw Delia sweeping toward him, accompanied by two women and a child. One of the women was dressed with the plain respectability of a slave, but the other- a handsome woman of about thirty- wore a long tunic of purple and gold, and her auburn hair was tied back by the purple ribbon of a royal diadem.
He had worked out what to say when Delia appeared, but the sight of the woman in purple put the speech out of his head, and he stared stupidly. He had not been so na[i..]ve as to expect to be permitted to talk to the king's sister alone again, but equally he had not expected her to be chaperoned by a queen. Of course, he realized numbly, there could be nothing unusual about such a person being in Delia's company. After all, Delia was the queen's sister-in-law; they probably spent a lot of time together. But the sight of his flute player escorted by a diadem suddenly made him feel how stupid it was for him to think about her in the way he had been thinking about her.
Then Delia smiled, and he went on thinking about her that way.
"Archimedes son of Phidias, good health!" said Delia pleasantly. "Agathon said you wanted to thank me for something?"
He remembered his speech; she'd just delivered the gist of the first line herself. He tried to think how to rewrite it on the spot, then, flustered, abandoned it. "Uh, yes, I- that is, you spoiled your cheek strap when you gave it to me- I mean, when you got it wet. I, uh…" His throat seemed to have become stopped up, and he gave up completely and simply offered her the little papyrus-wrapped package.
The queen gave him an amused look. The child, a boy, gave him an unnerving five-year-old's stare. But Delia took the package with a lift of her eyebrows and unwrapped it, then held up the two cheek straps. The old one was slightly- but not, in fact, badly- discolored by the water; the new one was the best he could buy that was still comfortable to wear, strong and soft and painted on the outside surface with a key pattern in blue.
"How very kind of you," Delia said, with real pleasure. The old cheek strap had been her only plain one. She had plenty with embossing or embroidery, but embroidery always itched, and embossing dug into your cheeks when you blew hard, and distracted you. This was a strap chosen by an aulist: she could wear this. She gave Archimedes a warm look. He was distinctly less stained and shabby this morning, she thought to herself. In fact, he looked quite well; yellow suited him. He had nice eyes, light brown, and a nice face, long-boned and expressive.
"I couldn't permit you to lose anything on my account, lady," he said, recovering himself a little. "Thank you for the loan of it."
"Your eye's better?" She could see already that it was, though the bruise was still fading around the socket, and an angry red mark remained on the white of the eye itself.
"Quite better, thank you," he replied, then swallowed and lapsed into an awkward silence.
Delia sensed her sister-in-law preparing to make small talk. When Agathon had announced Archimedes, she'd told the queen that this was a catapult engineer who happened to play the aulos, and that they'd exchanged a few words about flute-playing when he last came. Now Philistis was getting ready to say a few words about flutes- it would certainly be flutes; she didn't like war machines.
The small boy forestalled her. "Delia said you make catapults," he told Archimedes in an accusing tone.
Archimedes blinked at him. The child had auburn curls and the queen's hazel eyes. Hieron was known to have a son, Gelon. This chubby boy was undoubtedly that son, and would be the next tyrant of Syracuse, if democracy or the Romans didn't intervene.
"Yes," he replied politely. "I've just finished one."
"I like catapults," said Gelon eagerly, and Archimedes realized that the accusing tone had been due to simple interest. "Is it a big one? Does it throw stones or shoot arrows? How far can it throw?"
"It's a one-talent stone-hurler," replied Archimedes. "That's bigger than any other catapult in the city now, though there's another as big with the army. I don't know exactly how far it will throw, because we haven't done the trials yet. I came here to ask the regyour grandfather when and where he wanted me to test it."
"How heavy is one talent?" Gelon demanded.
"Heavier than you, Gelonion mine," said the queen. "And that's enough about catapults!"
"That's big!" said little Gelon delightedly, ignoring his mother. "If there was somewhere soft to land, maybe you could shoot me out of that catapult. I'd go flying up through the air like a bird!"
The slave woman- evidently his nurse- clicked her tongue in horror. "Perish the thought, baby!" she exclaimed. "My precious lamb, it would kill you!"
"I don't see how flying would kill me!" replied Gelon indignantly.
"Not the flying," Archimedes told him. "The catapult throw. You think about it. My one-talenter should hurl a sixty-pound weight four or five hundred feet, and the missile is supposed to land hard enough to knock over stone battlements and smash houses. Think what the stone must feel when the string hits it!"
Gelon's eyes widened as he thought. Then he grinned admiringly. "That's a good catapult!" he said.
Archimedes grinned back. He would have preferred those words to come from Delia, but they were perfectly acceptable from the child. "I think so. The foreman of the workshop thinks so, too- at least, he said it was the best he'd seen."
Delia was pleased. Agathon had passed on a little of what Epimeles had told him, but she was glad to hear it confirmed. She was relieved, though, that she had not had to ask about the catapult herself. Her interest in Archimedes might be abstract and innocent, a ruler's interest in a potentially valuable servant of the state- but the people around her would never believe that. They all assumed that girls her age thought about nothing but love.
"It will smash the Romans!" gloated Gelon. He smashed a small fist into a palm, smack!
Archimedes grinned again. "That's what I hope!"
" 'Course, my papa's already smashed the Romans," the boy added importantly. "Have you heard? But I expect they'll have to be smashed again before the war's over."
"Gelon, that's enough!" said the queen firmly. "Phew, what a hot day it is. Much too hot to talk about the war. Archimedes son of Phidias, my sister-in-law tells me that you play the aulos. Perhapsif you're waiting for my father- you'd amuse us with a little music to help pass the time?"
Archimedes blinked again. If Syracuse's tyrant had won a victory, why didn't the tyrant's wife want to talk about it? But he bowed and said, "I'm happy to play for you, if you'd like, Lady Philistis." Respectable women's names were not usually mentioned, but Hieron had made dedications to the gods jointly with his wife, and when a name was inscribed in the temples it was hardly improper to repeat it. "But I didn't bring my flutes with me."
"I'd like," said Delia quickly. She'd rather make music than small talk. She snapped her fingers and said to the nurse, "Melaina, go and fetch two sets of auloi." She smiled at Archimedes. "We could have a duet."
Archimedes grinned slowly back at her. Gelon made a disgusted sound: he'd far prefer to hear more about catapults. Since the adults weren't going to oblige, he abandoned them. He had an interesting hole he was digging under the shrubbery in a corner of the garden; he hurried off to it while his nurse was busy, before she could tell him not to get himself dirty.