The Arrows of Hercules

The Arsenal, on the west side of Ortygia near the fabled spring of Arethousa, was a huge boxlike building of mud brick. Inside the building, along the two long walls, ran a pair of balconies. Down the center of the main floor, a row of columns paralleled the balconies to permit extra width. The balconies and the main floor beneath it were piled with military and nautical gear: spars, sails, rope, oars, anchors, and planking; jars of nails, tar, paint, and grease; spears, javelins, swords, shields, cuirasses, greaves, bows, arrows, and sling bullets. Steel and bronze glimmered in long lines where weapons and defenses hung on pegs in their racks.

The central part of the building was divided into working areas where teams of men strove at various tasks. The flames of forges lit the floor with a flickering, reddish light; the din of hammers made it necessary to shout. Here a man was pouring molten bronze from a crucible into a multiple mold for arrowheads; there another was shaving a pikestaff, looking along it endwise between strokes to test its trueness.

"Look at this!" said Archytas.

A huge blacksmith, naked but for a leathern apron, was holding a red-hot object on an anvil with tongs and hitting it with a hammer. As he came nearer, Zopyros saw that the object was a breastplate. Then he blinked. It was a breastplate of iron. A matching back plate lay, unfinished, on the earthen floor beside the anvil. Sparks flew as the smith hammered; black scale crumbled from the cooling surface.

"Excuse me," said Zopyros, "but are you making an iron cuirass?"

The breastplate ceased to glow. The smith dropped his hammer, picked up another pair of tongs, and with tongs in each hand pushed the breastplate back into the furnace. His apprentice, pumping a bellows, fanned the coals to a golden glow.

"That's right, son," said the smith. "Everybody says it can't be done, but I'll show 'em."

"Won't it be pretty heavy?"

"We'll try it first on the President. If he can manage it, then we'll see about the rest of you pygmies."

Zopyros turned away to hunt for Drakon. A voice called: "Ea! Aren't you the Tarentine who was on the Muttumalein?"

It was Alexis the Velian. The young man had been crouching over some large sheets of papyrus on the floor and drawing on them with a charcoal pencil. Now he rose and slapped the charcoal powder from his hands. Zopyros introduced Archytas.

"Glad to have you among us," said Alexis. "I told you the Dionysios would appreciate my talents. I'm planning the largest galleys ever built."

"Whose idea was that?" said Zopyros.

Alexis hesitated, then said: "The President made the original suggestion, but of course all the real mental work is mine."

"How can you make war galleys larger?" asked Archytas. "If you lengthen them more, they'll break their backs in a heavy sea."

"These ships will be, not longer, but wider," said Alexis smugly. "Instead of three rows of oars on each side, they shall have four or five rows!"

"Pest!" cried Archytas. "Why didn't I think of that? Just because standard warship has had three banks of oars ever since King Midas' reign, we've stupidly assumed that it would always have three banks."

Alexis said: "Don't feel bad; we can't all be the reincarnation of Daidalos. But, even without the divine spark, I don't doubt you will both turn out some good, sound engineering."

"Thanks," said Zopyros. "But, man, how will you ever get so many rowers packed into one hull and all moving in time? I can see difficulties."

"That's where the divine spark comes in. The greater the difficulty, the greater the glory. See you later." Alexis waved in a careless manner and turned back to his drawing.