The Arrows of Hercules

They stood at the rail of the Atalanta, watching Syracuse grow before their eyes. Before them lay the main city, the Achradina, occupying a semicircular mass of land thrust out into the Ionian Sea. Behind the Achradina, the suburbs rose stepwise to the plateau of the Epipolai, famed for fierce fighting during the great Athenian siege. Much building seemed to be going on in these suburbs. New houses were springing up on the plateau and the slopes leading to it, among the groves and tombs and shrines.

Inland, beyond the city, rose the long slopes of the Heraean Mountains, which filled all of southeastern Sicily. Typical Sicilian mountains, though huge in bulk, they were not craggy like the mountain of Old Hellas. Their smooth, grassy slopes culminated in rounded, breast-shaped summits. They bore few trees, save for patches of woods in the deepest clefts between the ridges.

Northward, the colossal mass of Aetna stood half hidden by clouds. A pallid, shadowy blur betrayed the snow fields of its lower slopes. Remembering his dream, Zopyros shuddered. Nevertheless, he stared at the volcano, wishing he had the vision of a god, so that he could see right through the mountain to Messana and his beloved. Then he looked back towards the shining city to southward.

"Sicilian cities have such a new look," he remarked.

"The reason is simple," said Archytas at his elbow. "As fast as the Siceliots get a city built, some army sacks and destroys it. Then, when the survivors trickle back, they have to start anew. Think of Kamarina, Selinous, Akragas, Gela, almost any place you can name ... They say Syracuse will soon be a greater city than Athens. I, too, could build the world's largest city if I were allowed to kidnap the people of neighboring towns and force them to live in mine, as Dionysios has done with the Naxians and the Leontines."

"By the Silver Egg!" exclaimed Zopyros. "I'm a stupid ox!"

"I knew that all along," said his friend with a grin. "But what proves it now?"

"If I had only stopped to think! I'm sure my father has at least one hospitality token from somebody in Syracuse. I know he's done work for several Syracusans, but I can't think of a single name."

"Well, considering how suddenly we left Taras, I don't blame you. Yet we must have acquaintance with somebody in Syracuse."

"I'm thinking. If there were a Pythagorean Society in Syracuse—"

"You'd better not go around asking for one," said Archytas. "The Dionysios is said to be a very suspicious ruler. If our own democratic city can go into a frenzy over imaginary Pythagorean plots, you can imagine what Dionysios would do."

Zopyros grumbled: "The godlike Pythagoras' biggest mistake was to let his followers mix in politics."

"Somebody has to run a city, and who better than philosophers?"

"Well, you know what happened. Philosophers seem to like power for its own sake just as other men do. Perhaps we ought to rename the Pythagorean Societies after some other truth-seeker, such as Philolaos."

"Ah, but he, too, was suspected of political ambition. That's why he fled to Old Hellas ... What are you thinking of, old chap?"

"Zeus on Olympos! I just remembered. Do you recall, in our last year under Philolaos, there was a younger student from Syracuse, Archonides son of Philistos?"

"Only vaguely."

"Well, I saved this boy from some bullying, so he became attached to me for a time. He was a terrible snob, always boasting of his father's position and wealth and lineage. However, I remember hearing from others about this Philistos, a man with pretensions to being a philosopher. He financed Dionysios' early rise in politics, when Dionysios was just a humble clerk in the tax office. Perhaps Archonides could put in a word for us."

"How shall we find this Philistos in so vast a city?"

"I've been wondering, too. But speaking of the tax office, everybody knows where it is, doesn't he?"

"Certainly, unless he's a blind beggar."

"And the tax office is the one place where they keep a record of where everybody lives. So we'll ask at the tax office. That's logical, isn't it?"

"Yes, unless they toss us in prison as tax delinquents."

The island of Ortygia, guarding the southern flank of the Achradina, came into view. Massive battlemented walls girded the island. Behind it lay the Great Harbor with its dockyards. The masts of ships, tied up at the wharves and anchored in rows in the harbors, formed a leafless forest. Out in the sea, a squadron of triremes maneuvered. The coxswains' flutes came faintly across the water.

"Look, Archytas!" said Zopyros. "Dionysios has built his walls of stone!"

"By the Mouse God, so he has! With these new Phoenician battering rams and suchlike engines coming into use, I suppose we shall see many cities replacing their brick walls with stone. At least, there'll be plenty of work for us engineers."