The next day, her outraged aunt and uncle informed her that her half brother had insisted that she live in his household in future. She had gone to the mansion in terror, certain that she had displeased a new master- and found herself welcomed warmly, and swept effortlessly into happiness. For the first few years she had tried to earn her brother's approval by being good, but eventually she understood that she didn't have to earn anything. Hieron gave, generously, with a tolerant good humor that left her free to be herself.
Or he had done. The one advantage she had expected to give him he had not used, and she had been growing increasingly dissatisfied with her life. In a world where girls were often married at fourteen, she was eighteen and still a virgin. Girls who'd shared dancing and music lessons with her were now mothers, but she still remained in her brother's house with nothing to do. Her brother was reluctant to marry her to a foreigner- the Roman and Carthaginian aristocracies practically never married outside their own circles, and there was little profit to be gained by attaching her to a minor princeling of some great Greek royal house. But when it came to the nobility of Syracuse, the political advantages offered by her wedding had never been advantageous enough.
Still, she did not question her fate now, either: if she could win Hieron any political advantage, she was glad of it. She merely told herself angrily that playing the flute with a man didn't mean you were going to fall in love with him.
Archimedes was still drooping when he reached the street, but more from the heat than from any disappointment. Delia had liked his present, and he had been able to play a duet with her. The music had been exhilarating. If they could play together regularly, and learn each other's styles, they could do something really interesting!
Then he tried to imagine how a catapult maker would manage to play regular duets with the sister of a king, and drooped in earnest. He loosened his cloak irritably. It was too hot to wear wool.
When he turned into the main road, he saw the regent Leptines, marching smartly away down the thoroughfare in the middle of a troop of a dozen soldiers. He grabbed the edge of his cloak to stop it from falling off and ran after them. When the guards at the rear of the party noticed him flapping after them, they halted, and half a dozen spears were leveled at him. He stopped short, panting.
Leptines had glanced around to see what the matter was; he noticed Archimedes and gestured for the soldiers to shoulder their weapons again. "What do you want?" he asked irritably.
"Um," said Archimedes. "It's about the one-talent stone-hurler, lord. I've just been to your house to tell you that it's ready, but you weren't there. Where do you want us to put it?"
"At least something in this god-hated city is ready!" exclaimed Leptines. "Does it work?"
"Yes," said Archimedes, without thinking.
"Then put it in the Hexapylon," said the regent.
There were catapults of one size or another all the way along the fifteen miles of Syracuse's city wall, but the largest machines were concentrated in the batteries of the great forts. The Hexapylon was the fort which guarded the gate on the main road north. It was the first defense against any army coming from the north and Messana. Archimedes licked his lips. "Yes, lord. And the trials for it?"
Leptines had either forgotten the arrangement he'd made with Archimedes or forgotten everything about catapults. "You said it works!" he cried indignantly.
"Uh, sir, I'm sure it does!" Archimedes protested. "But we can't fire it in the workshop, so we need trials before it's proven and, uh, I'm paid."
Several of the soldiers grinned; one of them, Archimedes noticed, was Straton. He had not recognized the man before, among so many others identically armored and helmeted.
Leptines frowned a minute, then gave a sudden snort of amusement. "Well, put it in the Hexapylon," he said. "And when you have it set up there, send word, and I'll send someone to observe. If it does work, start building another immediately."
"Yes, sir!" said Archimedes.
"Lord!" said Straton smartly. "Shall I arrange transport for the catapult, sir?"
"Do that!" said the regent. He gestured to his guard, and he and they moved off down the street, leaving Straton with Archimedes.
"Thank you," said Archimedes gratefully. "I didn't know who to talk to about moving it. We'll need a big wagon."
Straton grinned. "Thank you!" he replied. "I'm glad to stop running up and down. We've been from the arsenal to the naval docks and back twice this morning." He tipped his helmet back and put his spear across his shoulders. "Besides, I want to have a look at this one-talenter."
They started along the main street toward the workshop, the opposite direction to Leptines. After a minute, Archimedes said uncertainly, "At the king's house they said that we had won a victory."
Straton nodded. "That's the news."
"I don't understand, then," Archimedes said. "Why is the king lifting the siege and coming home?"
Straton moved his shoulders uncomfortably under his armor. " 'The fox has many tricks,' " he said.
" 'The hedgehog only one- but it's a good one,' " said Archimedes, finishing the proverb, then went on, "Yes, but why come back to the city and play hedgehog when you've the strength to be a fox and snap up rats? I don't understand. Was it a victory?"
Straton shrugged again. "They say it was. It wasn't a defeat, anyway. But I know one thing: King Hieron's a clever fox, and if he thinks it's time to raise the siege and come home, he's got a good reason for it."
They walked on for a little while in silence. The question Archimedes really wanted to ask was "Are the Romans going to follow King Hieron back here to Syracuse and besiege us in turn?" But he did not quite dare. He could remember the last time Syracuse had been besieged; he had been not quite nine years old. There had been a blockade, and food had grown short. The family had shared one loaf of bread a day among four adults and four children, and eaten rats when they could get them, weeds and beetles when they couldn't. Marcus' predecessor had fallen ill and died; if there had been more food, he would probably have lived. Once Archimedes had gone up to the city walls with his father, and they had measured shadows to calculate the distance to the besieging army they could see clearly, camped just out of catapult range. "What would happen if they got in?" he had asked, and Phidias had shaken his head and refused to answer.
That had been the Carthaginians, of course. And they had not got in.
They reached the catapult workshop and went in to see the great beast crouched as before. To Archimedes it looked suddenly more beautiful than ever. The Romans, if they came, would not get in either.
"Herakles!" said Straton, staring. "That's a monster!"
Epimeles had begun hurrying over the moment he saw them; his step faltered at the exclamation, and he gave Straton an irritated look. "It's a beauty!" he corrected him; then, to Archimedes, "Sir?"
"It's to go to the Hexapylon," said Archimedes. "Straton son of Metrodoros here is going to help us arrange transport for it. They'll send an observer to see that it works as soon as we've got it in place, and then we can start on another."
"Good," said Epimeles, with satisfaction. "The Hexapylon. Good."
They all walked over to the catapult and gazed up at it. "The Hexapylon," the foreman said again, softly this time. "We can call it the Welcomer."