The Temple of the Muses by John Maddox Roberts Read Free Book Online Page B

through the Hellespont.” In explaining the mysteries of his art, his voice lost its accustomed belligerence and he actually communicated a bit of his own excitement at solving these thorny natural problems.
    “I have designed a series of waterproof gates and dry docks at each end of the waterway. By means of these, the dry docks can be flooded to raise or lower shipping to the proper level, and it can sail, row or be towed the intervening distance without a constant current. The amount of silt admitted will be minimal, and the waterway will need to be dredged no more often than every fourth or fifth year.”
    “Most ingenious,” I acknowledged. “Worthy of the successor to Archimedes.”
    “I thank you,” he said with poor grace. “But the revered Archimedes did not fare so well at the hands of the Romans.” Greeks are always carrying some sort of grudge.
    “Yes, well, it was an unfortunate incident, but it was his own fault. You see, when Roman soldiers have just broken into your city after a lengthy siege, and are rampaging about, looting the city and massacring anyone who shows resistance, why, the last thing you want to do is speak insolently to them. If he had just kept his mouth shut and abased himself, he would have been spared. As it was, Marcellus felt awfully bad about it and he gave the old boy a very nice tomb.”
    “Just so,” Iphicrates said through gritted teeth.
    “But, learned Iphicrates,” Julia said hastily, “what other marvelous
works occupy your mind? In your books you have said that you always have a number of projects under study at any time.”
    “If you will come this way,” he said, ushering us into a spacious room adjoining the courtyard where the workmen assembled his water gate. The room was full of cupboards and tables, and the tables were littered with models in varying stages of assembly. Most of the machines, as he explained them, had something to do with raising weights or water. I pointed at one that displayed a long, counterweighted arm tipped with a sling.
    “A catapult?” I inquired.
    “No, I never design engines of war. That is an improved crane for lifting great stones. A number of your Roman engineers have shown interest in it. It will prove most helpful in your great bridge and aqueduct projects.”
    While he spoke to Julia and the Librarian, I wandered about the room, admiring his amazingly lucid drawings and diagrams, every one of them applying geometry and mathematics to the accomplishment of some specific task. This was a sort of philosophy that I could appreciate, even if I found the man himself odious. The open cupboards were filled with more papyri and scrolls. On one table was an oversized scroll of dark, oiled olive wood, its handles stained vermilion. Even a glance told me that it was not made of Egyptian papyrus, but of the skin-paper of Pergamum. I picked up the massive scroll and began to unroll it, but Iphicrates made a massive, throat-clearing sound.
    “Excuse me, Senator,” he said, hastily taking it from my hands. “This is the unfinished work of a colleague, lent to me on the understanding that no one else should see it until he has finished it and made it public.” As he locked the thing in an ornate cupboard, I wondered what sort of colleague would trust Iphicrates of Chios with anything.
    “That scroll reminds me,” Julia said, adroitly smoothing things over. “I have yet to see the famous Library. And who better to show it to me than the Librarian himself?” We bade farewell to
the difficult mathematician and received his churlish goodbyes in return.
    I had already toured the Library, and once you have seen one tremendous warehouse of books, you have seen them all. Besides, it was a noisy place, with hundreds of scholars reading at the top of their lungs. Romans read at a polite, dignified murmur, but not Greeks or, worse, Asiatics. I left Julia and Amphytrion to the dubious pleasures of the Library while I idled about in the great