Fighting is only one aspect of warfare. Intelli gence and communication are also crucial. Will your device be capable of such things?"
"Eminently," Timonides assured him. "Once I have a prototype machine built to full scale and have worked out the minutiae of maneuvering, you can have a fleet of them."
"You speak as if this maneuvering business will be sim ple to perfect."
The Greek shrugged eloquently. "We shall see. But I be lieve the principles must be quite simple. After all, who would have believed that vessels could travel underwater under human guidance? Yet the philosophers of this school proved that it could be done and you put them to work defending the city, which they did to great effect."
"Quite true. Very well, I shall tell the queen that your project merits full support. Make up your request for funding, supplies and personnel and I shall present it to Her Majesty at the next planning conference."
Timonides went to a table and took a scroll from a chest. "Already done," he said, handing over the scroll with a smile. "Among other things, I shall need some intelligent slaves to test the first full-sized prototypes. At least a dozen. Attrition may be high at first."
"That should be no problem. We have plenty of prisoners taken in the recent fighting. They should be brave enough for the task and they needn't be purchased."
Marcus left the young Greek and continued with his inspection. From all directions he could hear the sounds of new construction. This part of the Museum was his personal project and he was expanding it enormously. He had moved out many of the philosophical schools to temporary housing around Alexandria in order to make room for the expanding School of Archimedes.
Philosophers throughout the Greek world were scandalized. The Archimedeans had been held in lowest esteem, scarcely to be considered philosophers at all, because they did things. They took matter and, often with their own hands, transformed it into articles of utility. This, to orthodox philosophers, lowered them to the status of mere work men. Philosophers were not supposed to do anything. They were supposed only to think.
Marcus had no patience with such sophistry. Rome had arrived, and Rome had no use for men who did nothing. Ro mans were not philosophers but they were engineers. Archimedes, the mathematician of Syracuse, was nearly a god in the pantheon of engineers. Marcus had set the despised school to designing war machines, and they had delivered handsomely.
At first he had wanted them to devise improved war machines of the sort Archimedes had invented for the defense of Syracuse against the Carthaginians more than a hundred years before: catapults and ship-killing cranes and so forth. Instead, they had come up with machines he had never dreamed of, yet which had proven invaluable in the war with Hamilcar. They had made boats that could travel beneath the surface of the water and sink enemy ships in the harbor. There was a device of mirrors that could see around corners and over walls. There were chemicals that generated dense smoke or choking fumes and one compound that burned with such furious violence that the inventor insisted it must have some military application, if only it could be harnessed.
And now: a flying machine. It made his head whirl.
He walked down a broad corridor where artisans were still busy painting the walls and inlaying the mosaic floor with scenes from the life of Alexander and the early Ptolemies. He was still uncomfortable in the spectacular parade uniform Selene had had made for him and insisted that he wear, even when not engaged in military duties. The muscle-sculpted cuirass was overlaid with gold and silver leaf, its leatherwork studded with amber and coral. His helmet was embossed on the temples with curling ram's horns, the significance of which he could not guess. He knew he'd be laughed out of Rome should he ever show up there in such a rig, but the Alexandrians lacked all restraint