The Arrows of Hercules

"Umm—well—I don't know ... These engines of yours will never take the place of well-trained archers. Not that any Hellenes are what you'd call well-trained archers." The bowyer spat on the dirt floor of the Arsenal. "They're all afraid somebody will mistake them for Paris of Troy, so they sneer at archery. The Persians, now, appreciate a scientific weapon—"

"Exactly!" interrupted Zopyros. "I'm the only man around here, besides yourself, who really understands what you can do with the bow principle. So, naturally, I come to you."

"We-ell, now that you put it that way, I'll give your idea some thought ..."

Afterwards, Archytas asked Zopyros: "Did he really agree to build your superbow?"

"He said he'd try. I told him I was the only toxophilite besides himself in Syracuse, and after that we got along fine."

"Congratulations; you're learning," said Archytas. "I'd have bet a stater against an obolos that he'd find some way to shear your oars. Prothymion is a hardshelled conservative who hates new inventions and finds an infinity of reasons for not doing what he doesn't wish to do."

As the month of Metageitnion*(*Approximately August.) wore on and the heat of summer declined, it became rare to see men strolling naked about the streets of Syracuse. When the Rhegines and Messanians invaded Syracusan territory, Dionysios mustered his army and marched north to meet them. However, the allied army, in characteristic Greek fashion, broke up through dissension. In the end, both sides marched home without bloodshed.

In the meantime Zopyros finished his drawings, while his carpenters got to work with saws and adzes on the main timbers of the large catapult. One day, when he and Archytas were studying the work in its corner of the Arsenal, Zopyros said:

"Archytas, are you very busy these days?"

"Not really. Fort Euryalos is so nearly finished that Pyres could do without me. But you know officials. Not one wants to let a subordinate out of his grasp if he can help it."

"Well, there's going to be a slack time here, too. It'll be another month at least before these boys get the catapult ready to test. Meanwhile, there's nothing for me to do but look in on them once a day to make sure they haven't committed some colossal blunder, like installing Prothymion's bow backwards."

"So?"

"I thought I'd ask the Drakon for a ten-day's leave to go to Messana. During that time, I should dearly love it if you'd make a daily inspection of the work. You've sweated with me so long over this thing that you know the plans as well as I. Can I leave you to watch the nets?"

"Wiry, I should be glad—"

"Master Zopyros!" said the voice of a barbarian mercenary. "Big boss says he want you in palace, right away."

Zopyros exchanged a puzzled glance with Archytas. "I wonder what I've done wrong?" he said. "Oh, well, here's the way to find out." He set out after the soldier.

In the courtyard of the palace he found the tyrannos sitting with Philistos and two other men whose faces were familiar: Segovax the Celt and Evnos the Karian ransomer. The latter jumped up and seized Zopyros' hands.

"Rejoice, Master Zopyros!" he cried. "It's a pleasure to see you again. So you took my advice, after all!"

Zopyros greeted the others and, at Dionysios' invitation, sat down, too. A slave passed wine.

"O Zopyros," said Dionysios, "Evnos has just returned from his tour of Old Hellas. He has brought back four or five engineers and an equal number of skilled artificers. After scouring the land, he says, these are all he could persuade to come."

Zopyros said: "Surely there are many such in the great cities of Hellas!"

"There are. But some are satisfied with their present earnings. Some are anchored by familial obligations. Some are terrified of sea voyages. Lastly, some dislike my advanced form of government, my—ah—directed democracy. They prefer their old, inefficient ways of running their affairs, wobbling unstably between oligarchic oppression and mob rule." Dionysios took a sip—Zopyros had noted that he was a sparing drinker—and continued: "My other recruiter, Matris, has already scoured the Greek cities of Italy. To glean the same ground twice were inefficient, yielding but small returns. And we cannot wait for a new generation of engineers to grow up."

"What then, sir?" asked Zopyros.

"The barbarian tribes would know no more of engineering than the jackdaw knows of the lyre. There remains but one rich, untapped source of technical talent within our reach. You can guess what I mean."

"You mean Carthaginian territory?"

"Exactly." Dionysios gave one of his rare smiles. "That were a joke for the gods, to snatch the help I need from under the noses of the enemy!"

"But, sir, if you so dislike and distrust Phoenicians, how could you bear to have them working on your secret projects?"

"For one thing, I should keep close watch on them. I'd make them live on the island. For another, I do not fear that they will desert merely because I may be forced to make war upon some of their own cities. These degenerate moneygrubbers are men without honor or patriotism. They would slit their own mothers' throats if you paid them enough. But many of the branded knaves are nonetheless excellent technicians.