The Arrows of Hercules
- Автор: Де Камп Лайон Спрэг
- Язык: английский
- Жанр: Научная фантастика
Электронная книга - «The Arrows of Hercules». Краткое содержание книги:
“Exciting and quite believable adventures.”—Classical World
“Rousing piece of fiction...pace is rapid and unrelenting.” —The Arizona Republic
"Dionysios is one of those who, like the Athenians a few years ago, justify themselves on the ground that it's a law of nature to rule wherever one can. Calling his tyranny a 'directed democracy' doesn't change its nature.
"Look who's quoting! How about your own political ambitions?"
"I have never aspired to be king of the Tarentines, as Dionysios is king of the Syracusans in all but name. Politics is something else."
Zopyros shrugged. "Play politics if you like. It doesn't interest me."
"It should! Politics is how any large group of people manage their affairs."
"Which they do badly, under any form of government."
"No doubt, but that's no excuse for being worse villains than we need be. Therefore I wonder if we are doing the right thing."
"How do you mean?"
Archytas: "Helping this tyrannos to develop machines for killing our fellow men. You know how the Man felt about aggressive warfare."
"Dionysios talks only of defense against Carthaginian aggression," said Zopyros. , "Do you really believe him?"
"I suppose not. It's a logical flaw in the divine Pythagoras' argument: every belligerent claims to be acting in self-defense; therefore it's always the other party who is the aggressor."
"Except among barbarians like our friend Segovax," said Archytas. "They're at least honest. They come right out and say: 'You've got something I want, so I will kill you for it.' But I'm still uneasy about working for this eagle-eyed tyrannos, despite our handsome salaries."
Zopyros shrugged. "Men have always killed each other, for reasons good or bad, and I suppose they always will. If we didn't help him, he'd get other engineers. As for his tyranny, I think that if a people are ruled by a tyrannos, it's only what they deserve. It means there are so many knaves and fools among them that they're not competent to govern themselves. The Man said—"
"You always oversimplify political questions," said Archytas. "That's because you have no experience at politics. I know something about it at first hand. The usual reason for a tyrannos is not so much the depravity of men, but the fact that the rich have borne down too heavily on the poor and stopped them from bettering themselves. Then some demagogue says: 'Follow me, fellow citizens! Kill the rotten-rich, divide up their possessions, and live in ease and luxury forever!' And the poor boobies believe him."
"That's what I said; the masses are so stupid that they're just as well off under a strong master—"
"No, it isn't the same. You forget that, once in power, the tyrannos concerns himself much more with enlarging and securing his power than with the welfare of the masses. To protect his power, he goes to any extremes of treachery and cruelty, like Phalaris of Akragas roasting people alive in his bronzen bull."
"I should like to see that interesting piece of bronze work," said Zopyros, "but I hear the Carthaginians took it away when they sacked Akragas. However, Dionysios has done a lot for the Syracusans, and they certainly seem to admire him."
"Some do, no doubt. But many proclaim their love because they're afraid to complain. Whoever knows black from white knows what happens to Dionysios' critics."
"I thought it was years since he had any opponents killed?"
Archytas glanced over his shoulder and lowered his voice. "Yes, but they remember the last time. He bribed a Spartan named Aristos to make the rounds of the drink shops, treating people and damning Dionysios. Naturally, Aristos got many to agree. He kept a list of names, and one fine day Dionysios arrested the lot. He drowned Nikoteles, the noisiest of his foes, and put such fear into the rest that they've kept quiet ever since. You must admit it takes more than ordinary terror to make a Hellene stop talking."
"Why does he favor drowning as a method of execution?"
"Dionysios drowns people because he loves neatness and order. Hanging turns them an ugly blue, while stoning and beheading are messy and attract flies. A drowned man, on the other hand, looks almost as good as new ... But enough of this Stygian talk. Have you heard from your girl yet?"
"No, although I've written twice. You know how it is, sending letters by sailors, who get drunk and lose ... Archytas!" He suddenly grabbed the arm of his companion, who uttered a yelp. "I just had an idea! Why am I trying to make my missile engine the hard way?"
"I'll ask; why are you? But please don't grab me like that on a dark street! I thought we were going to be murdered."
"Remember that statue of Apollon in front of the temple, with his drawn bow?"
"Yes."
"If I used a solid post—corresponding to that statue—instead of those limber rods I've been working with, and mounted the bow on some sort of pivot ..." Zopyros rattled off details and suggestions at such speed that Archytas cried:
"Help! Help! Wait until you reach some writing materials, to take notes of all these ideas! I can't possibly remember—"
"Then let's hurry! Dear Herakles, I've wasted a ten-day on a false scent. Never mind bed; I want to get this stuff down. For the experimental models, I can draw a couple of standard bows from stock. Then I'll try two alternative plans: pivoting the bow about the vertical axis and about the horizontal axis ..."
"It's all very well for you to say: 'Never mind bed,' " grumbled Zopyros' friend. "You're only half human anyway, like the bronze giant Talos who guarded Crete. But I can't live on bright ideas alone."
The spring days lengthened into summer, the shepherds and goatherds drove their flocks to higher pastures, and the long green slopes of the Heraean Mountains began to turn a golden buff as the grass died. With the coming of summer, the second year of the ninety-fifth Olympiad began, when Aristokrates was Archon of Athens.
Three model engines stood on the archery range. Each consisted of a platform, a four-foot post standing upright on the platform, and a bow fastened in various ways to the top of the post. At the rear edge of each platform was tackle of cords, hooks, and pulleys.
A puffy wind whipped across the archery range, stirring swirls of dust. A young dog, barking, chased a scrap of papyrus whirled round about by an eddy. At the far end, a squad of soldiers did spear drill to shouted commands. From the Arsenal and the shipyards came the clatter of tools. Zopyros sat alone on a stool with his chin on his fists, glowering at the models.
Archytas, plump and glowing with good spirits, approached. "O Zopyros!"
"Rejoice!" said Zopyros in a lugubrious tone. "What brings you here?"
"We ran out of stone—the polluted quarrymen let us down—so Pyres gave me the afternoon off. Do you know what I've done?"
"No; what?"
"I think I've solved the problem of doubling the cube!"
"You mean an abstract, mathematical cube; not a real one?"
"Of course I mean a geometrical cube!"
"Well, I hope the boss hangs a medal round your neck, although I don't suppose he will."
"Nonsense! I did it not for medals, but for the advancement of knowledge and my own curiosity. Man was made to investigate the universe."
A movement caught Archytas' eye and he turned; so did Zopyros. At the far end of the range, where the soldiers were drilling, Drakon, the master of the Arsenal, was strolling with Alexis. They had their arms about each other's necks, and the older man was giggling like an adolescent.
"Guess who'll be promoted next," said Archytas. "If that's the price of advancement, I'll stay on the bottom rowing bench. What's the matter with you, old boy? You look as if you'd been bitten by a Tartessian eel."