Athena's Son (9 page)

“
Why didn’t he want the Greeks to read it?”

Berenike’s green eyes shifted up to lock with his. “Because this scroll reveals the plot to cover up Alexander’s murder.”

“
Murder?” Archimedes repeated too loudly for Berenike. She quickly shushed him with a wave of her hand. Archimedes lowered his voice to match her conspiratorial tone. “All the written sources say that Alexander died from a prolonged sickness.”

“
Lies, all lies.” Berenike set the glass globe off to the side and began rolling up the scroll. “None of Alexander’s generals wanted people to know he was killed. They wanted his kingdom for themselves. They knew Alexander’s young wife Roxanne was pregnant with his son Alexander IV, who would inherit his father’s vast kingdom. Both Roxanne and Alexander IV were later killed so Alexander IV could not become king. Someone wanted Alexander and his family dead and I intend to find out who.”

She finished rolling up the scroll and touched its ragged edge. “I need to find the rest of this scroll. Someone tore it off to protect the murderer.” She jabbed her silver-ringed finger into his chest. “Will you help me or do you think I’m crazy too? Be honest with me.”

“
I would always give you an honest answer. Yes, of course I’ll help you, Berenike.” Sure she seemed a little crazy, but this Muse was captivating too.

She took a step closer and gave him a deep gaze. “Promise?”

“
I promise,” Archimedes said, “but…” he was about to say she would be contradicting more than 50 years of accepted knowledge about Alexander’s death, when he happened to glance beyond her wavy hair and notice a man staring intently at them.

He appeared to be a rich Roman dressed in the traditional toga embroidered with purple silk that only Roman citizens were allowed to wear. He had an odd habit of tapping the back of his fist against his mouth while concentrating on them. The man was glancing from the scrolls to Berenike when he caught Archimedes’ glare and hastily walked away.

“
I don’t like the look of this,” Archimedes cautioned as he took a step toward the spying Roman.

Berenike, animated with her conspiracy theory, grabbed Archimedes by the hand. “Great, I knew you would think so! I want to take you to the palace talk with my father!”

Archimedes had just enough time to grab the glass off the table.

Chapter 14

Startled scholars watched two reckless children sprint through the library. Berenike led Archimedes out the history section, through the lecture hall and into the entrance hall.

Ajax, who was patrolling the entrance hall, turned to the slapping of their sandals. Instead of going out the front and down the steps, Berenike made a quick turn to the right and out a concealed side door. “Father put this door in for the nobles to use.” Outside, a royal chariot was waiting with a driver.

Archimedes had read about chariots, but he never really expected to ride in one. The driver bowed low and set out a stool for Berenike. She bounded up two steps and turned around to see Archimedes inspecting the construction.

“
Hurry, will you? It’s completely safe.” She turned to the driver. “Agrippas, you’ll be careful, won’t you?” Her driver was a wiry, lean-faced Greek who smiled easily.

“
As cautious as we always are, Princess.” The man bowed, but not before Archimedes saw him wink at Berenike.

A matching pair of magnificent, grey Arabian horses was hitched to the front of the wooden chariot. The frame, Archimedes noted, was made of imported elm, which was needed for the rough ride chariots endured. The construction was heavy for royal use in parades and official functions, unlike the typical war chariot that was lighter. A bronze railing curved around the openings and followed the frame to the back. The outside was covered in some type of animal hide Archimedes did not recognize. It was golden brown with dark brown spots speckled over it. He hesitantly took the two steps up.

“
He’ll take it easy, won’t he?” Archimedes asked as he looked at the two Arabians paw impatiently on the ground.

“
Hang on,” Berenike whispered.

The musky smell of the horses overwhelmed the delicate fragrance of Berenike, but nothing could contend with her energetic grin as Agrippas whipped the horses from a trot, to a cantor, and into a gallop. People scattered as the chariot bumped and churned through the dusty streets. Archimedes turned to see the library slowly shrink behind and he saw the Roman again, fist tapping against his mouth, watching the chariot speed away.

“
Father wants me to travel in a covered chair that the servants carry,” Berenike said. “I think it looks pretentious. Besides, isn’t this more fun?”

The grey mares’ eyes were wide and wild as they tossed their heads against the tight wrenching of the leather reins. Their hooves pounded up dust and pebbles from the street, blinding Archimedes. Every rut and rock jarred his knees and the wheels bounced desperately against the uneven road.

Not only did Agrippas not slow down for a turn, he whipped the horses faster and the swaying chariot almost tipped over, much to the delight of Berenike. She leaned her head back with a riotous laugh and shouted something to him, but his head was jolting around too much to hear.

The hooves slowed from the fast staccato of the dirt road to a steady beat on the paved boulevard leading to the Palace grounds. Tears cleaned trails down Archimedes’ dusty cheeks and he finally caught his breath.

Lining either side of the boulevard were palm trees and fountains. Slaves wearing only linen kilts swarmed the lush boulevard, watering, cleaning, hoeing, and planting.

Two guard houses were stationed at the end of the boulevard and they waved the royal chariot through. Far to the right of the road was the barracks for the army. Hundreds of men were practicing maneuvers, walking horses, cleaning weapons, or eating in what little shade they could find.

The road leading to the palace was divided by a long rectangular pool. Cranes and ibises walked among the lily pads while colorful fish shimmered in the placid water. The palace may have housed a Greek king and queen, but the building itself was all Egyptian.

Towering columns rose up to a massive open roof. The tan columns spread into green palm leaves at the top. Vibrant hues of red and yellow squares banded the middle of the columns. Unlike the simple marble floors of the library, the palace entrance had tiled floors of flamboyant red, blue, and yellow geometric patterns.

Agrippas pulled back on the reins, bringing the chariot to an abrupt but controlled stop. Archimedes, shaking and sweating, took the opportunity to jump off the chariot. Berenike followed him.

“
For the love of Zeus, did he have to drive so recklessly?” Archimedes asked, his tunic clinging to his back with sweat. “That was dangerous; we could have been killed!”

Berenike nonchalantly waved her hand at him. “Relax Archimedes. Danger, in the hands of an expert, is sculpted into adventure.”

Servants came running up to attend to Berenike. They brought a large green glass of water, a bowl of dates, and a palm leaf fan to wave at her. They bowed and set down a stool. She stepped off, drank from the glass and took a handful of dates.

She waved away the fan bearer and waited for Archimedes. Yesterday Archimedes was impressed by the school; now he was absolutely overwhelmed by the extravagance of the palace.

“
Get my friend some water and dates,” Berenike ordered one of the servants. He bowed low and ran into the Palace.

Archimedes was shocked for a moment when he heard the Princess refer to him as a friend. Berenike was confident, friendly, and interested in books, exactly what he would want in a friend. But she was also member of the Royal Family, with gold, servants, and a pedigree from the gods. She even said she would be Queen someday! Could she really be a friend to a common schoolboy?

A serious young man walked out to greet Berenike. He was dressed in the long tunic of a court administrator. He bowed and said, “Princess Berenike, welcome back. Pharaoh Ptolemy is in audience right now, but will see you after he completes some very important business.”

“
Come with me Archimedes, I want you to meet my father, Pharaoh Ptolemy II,” Berenike said. He followed obediently. He was out of his element and knew the only escape was back on Helios’ chariot. Archimedes made a mental note to never again get on a chariot with Agrippas.

The court administrator did not seem pleased that Berenike ignored his suggestion that she wait, but he could not argue.

Berenike led him to a door guarded by two men wearing metal skull caps, leather cuirasses, and holding spears. The wall behind them was covered in rich, colorful scenes of Egyptian gods and the pharaohs. An image of the god Horus holding the hand of Pharaoh Ptolemy II was on the left of the door and on the right the now-dead Ptolemy I was standing behind Osiris. The scene demonstrated that the Ptolemys were accepted by Horus, protector of the pharaohs. Osiris, dressed in the white linen of mummification and wearing the white cone crown, ruled the underworld. Running up and down between the figures were hieroglyphs, as Berenike explained, for public display.

The mismatched pair walked through the doorway and Archimedes was finally able to catch his wits. “Berenike, what evidence do you have that there was a plot to cover up Alexander’s murder?”

“
Meti hints that the symptoms Alexander showed were not consistent with a natural illness,” she said. “And he had some crazy line in there about dangerous women.”

“
Don’t I know it,” Archimedes said under his breath.

“
What did you say?” Berenike asked.

“
I said, ‘I don’t know it,’ meaning I’ll have to read the scroll,” he stammered.

“
Hmmm,” Berenike scowled at him.

They entered the next room. It was held up by red columns developing into palm fronds at the top. The tiled floor was a pattern of different shades of blues imitating water. Two smoking braziers were on each side of the room, saturating the room with the heavy scent of sandalwood. Mulling around were ambassadors from Greece, Persia, Nubia, and other lands.

Scribes were sitting and busy writing, probably in the demotic script Archimedes saw earlier. Several immodestly dressed women danced in one corner, eyes black with kohl, writhing to music performed by two men playing a lute and drum. They girls were much younger and prettier than the women he had seen dancing in the marketplace.

Across the room, several men sat behind tables carefully weighing gold and silver on scales. The precious metal was gifts to the pharaoh from visiting ambassadors who came to seek favor with the king of Egypt. The scene of smoky music, squirming bodies, and glittering metals was nearly enough to hypnotize a novice to the court of the pharaoh.

Against the far wall were two more guards. Controlling the flow into the throne room was a vizier dressed in a long white kilt, wide gold necklace, and holding a scroll of who would be allowed in and in what order.

While Archimedes tried to slow the advance of Berenike and take in all the activity, the vizier held up a practiced finger, asking solemnly but respectfully for Berenike to wait. He may as well have tried to stop the chariot earlier; Berenike breezed through, Archimedes in tow.

To Archimedes, each succeeding room seemed to get smaller while growing in importance. The red tiled throne room was no exception. Archimedes’ eyes adjusted to the light and he stood in awe.

Sitting in a large gold throne was Pharaoh Ptolemy II, the living Horus, wearing the double crown of Egypt. A small opening in the roof allowed the blazing sun to stream in from the back of the throne, flooding the pharaoh and the room in light. The light symbolized that the sun god Ra was in the room and approved of the pharaoh. Two more guards stood behind the pharaoh and on the wall behind them was Ra, the falcon-headed god, painted in rich colors.

Ptolemy was holding an elaborate gold crown in his lap and talking with several men while two scribes sitting cross legged on the floor were frantically scribbling down the proceedings. The crown was shaped into a laurel and appeared to be the center of the discussion. One of the men turned and, to Archimedes’ surprise, it was Callimachus, standing impassively while someone else was arguing and pointing his finger at him.