Wayward Son (32 page)

What, Cain wondered, were these “opportunities” of which Themistocles wrote?

***

Two months later found the friends reunited on the shores of the Euphrates River in the city of Babylon. Cain had seen nothing as grand as the Persian capital since his days in Egypt. On each side of the Euphrates, arrow-straight paved streets led down to the river, flanked by ziggurat towers, ornamental columns, and magnificent four-story mansions. An enormous astronomical observatory bore witness to Babylonian expertise in celestial matters. Magnificent brickwork attested to this people’s mastery of engineering and architecture.

“The perimeter of Babylon is said to be fifty-six miles,” Themistocles declared as he and Cain strolled on an elevated promenade on the river’s left bank. “Can you imagine? That is more than double the distance between Athens and Marathon!”

Cain recalled how Themistocles, one of the generals at the famous battle of Marathon a quarter century before, had always possessed a knack for folding into any conversation a flattering reference to his own exploits.

“In your letter you mentioned opportunities. What exactly did you mean?”

“My contacts in the royal court inform me unanimously that
King Artaxerxes
, the son of our old adversary, will look with favor on Greeks who support the
Persian Empire
. Not just any Greeks, mind you.
Distinguished
Greeks. Achievers.”

“You certainly qualify for that title. But how would I be involved?” Cain asked.

“You are involved as my associate. Tomorrow I will be officially accepting the reward the king has offered for my defection. I am sure His Majesty will be happy to make your acquaintance at our audience with him.”

“Our
audience
with him? You didn’t tell me anything about a meeting with Artaxerxes!” Cain exclaimed.

“Life would be boring without surprises, Agathon. Come, let’s head for the bazaar to get you some proper clothes. I notice, by the way, you are as trim as ever. You seem to possess the secret of perpetual youth!”

***

The very next day, a phalanx of armed guards parted to admit the two Greek visitors, who passed through an enormous gate in the hundred-foot-high wall surrounding the royal palace. Inside, Artaxerxes sat on a golden throne, directly opposite a gigantic statue of the god Bel seated on an elaborately ornamented platform. The symbolism was unmistakable—the deity had chosen the monarch to aid and protect Babylon.

Themistocles had briefed Cain beforehand on the customary etiquette, and both men knelt before the monarch. As Artaxerxes extended his hands in greeting and motioned for the visitors to rise, Cain noticed that the emperor’s right hand was slightly longer than his left. Of medium height, he had a closely cropped beard and heavy, jowly features. The only imperial-looking trait about him was the long plane of his nose.

“Welcome, Themistocles!” exclaimed the emperor. “The year we granted you to study our language and customs is nearly over. We trust you have spent this time profitably?”

“I have, Great King,” replied Themistocles in Persian. “I am now ready to serve you.”

Artaxerxes, wrongly assuming that Cain knew no Persian, now switched to fluent Greek. “And your colleague today, he is the one you told us of, the designer of the armored flagship that my father once mentioned?”

“He is, my lord. As I have informed you, Agathon’s expertise in nautical engineering and metallurgy is unrivaled. With his help, it will be possible to outfit Persia with an invincible fleet of warships. You will be able to carry out the conquest of which your father dreamed. All Greece will pay you tribute.”

Artaxerxes smiled broadly, as if the taste of victory were already his.

“Themistocles,” he said, “for your alliance with us we are pleased to grant you a reward. The bounty I had placed on your life will now be yours—the sum of two hundred talents. And we appoint you as our governor of the province of Magnesia. Three cities will pay you revenues: one for bread, one for meat, and one for wine.”

“I humbly accept this appointment, my lord,” replied Themistocles, striking his breast in submission.

“And now,” said the emperor, turning to Cain, “we would gladly hear more of your armored warship. How is it constructed, exactly?”

Cain made a split-second decision. Having played such an important role in preserving Greek history through time, he would not participate in bringing it to a close.

“Your Excellency, I cannot help you build such weapons for the purpose of annihilating an entire culture. True, I designed a flagship for the Greeks, but that is when they faced invaders who threatened to enslave them.”

Themistocles’s jaw dropped in astonishment.

Indeed, life would be boring without surprises, Cain thought as he saw the look on his friend’s face.

“Themistocles,” said the emperor, “we wish to converse with Agathon in private. Let our ministers accompany you to the hall of maps, where they will brief you on the imperial administration in Magnesia.”

Bowing deeply, Themistocles backed toward the doors of the throne room and made his exit.

Artaxerxes and Cain faced each other. “You have spoken of an invasion,” said the emperor. “Who knows but that Persia herself may face an invasion from Greece one day?”

“I hardly think that likely, Your Excellency,” answered Cain. “It was only with great difficulty that Themistocles was able to hold the Greeks together at Salamis.” It occurred to Cain that Themistocles might have promised to deliver him as part of the defection deal.

“But our informants have told us of the new Athenian empire. Some of the Greeks, at any rate, do not lack ambitions for conquest. Athens now receives enormous tribute from many city-states. She uses the Persian threat as a pretext.”

“All the same,” responded Cain, “I refuse to escalate the chances of war. I have lived with these Greeks for seven hundred years. I would never betray them.”

The emperor’s puzzled expression made Cain realize his verbal blunder. Fortunately, Artaxerxes merely sighed. “I have dealt with patriotic men before, but never one with your strange sense of humor, Agathon. If you really were as clever as your reputation, you would follow your friend’s lead and join the Persian side. I should have you tortured and executed for your insolence, but instead, I will give you time to think about the matter. Perhaps a year in solitary confinement will help you to change your mind. If you agree to share the flagship’s designs with us and pledge your allegiance to Persia, your reward will be two hundred talents, the very same as the sum granted to Themistocles.”

At a signal from the emperor, guards surrounded Cain and led him swiftly from the throne room.

CHAPTER 41

Babylon, 465–323 BC

TO HIS SURPRISE, CAIN’S jail cell was so spacious as to be almost comfortable. Located at the top of one of the hundreds of
towers in Babylon
, the cell enjoyed a splendid view of the city. Through a large barred window, Cain could clearly see the
Hanging Gardens
, the lush and legendary wonder of the world built by
King Nebuchadnezzar
over two hundred years before.

The emperor had given strict orders, which were inscribed on a bronze plaque placed on the wall outside the cell door. The prisoner was to be left alone inside the cell. Twice a day, he would be given food and water, passed through a small opening in the one-foot-thick, metal-reinforced wooden door. The cell would be opened only on the express order of the emperor, who personally retained possession of the key.

Cain reflected on his predicament. True, Artaxerxes had deprived him of his liberty. But the emperor’s arrangements also meant that Cain had little to worry about. His food and shelter were provided for, and imprisonment ensured that Cain would not have to participate again in military conflicts such as the Battle at Salamis. Dryly, he reflected that, in contrast to Artaxerxes, time was on his side. He could break the routine of solitary confinement by reliving his memories of more pleasant episodes in his life, such as his beer venture in Egypt and his idyll with Tanith. And the cell was flooded with air and light, with spacious limestone walls perfect for etching or drawing designs.

Thus, when a messenger from Artaxerxes arrived exactly one year later to ask Cain if he had changed his mind, the prisoner said no. And Cain’s answer remained the same the next year and the year after that.

***

One year, the messengers stopped coming.

That was not the end of his human contact, however. Although he could not see their faces, Cain had befriended many of the young day jailers who guarded the cells in the tower. They informed him that the cell he occupied was intended for enemy generals—leaders whom the emperor regarded as precious commodities and potential allies. This gave Cain a certain status in the jailers’ eyes. They told him of military conquests and foreign developments—in particular of a great war in Greece that pitted the Spartans against the Athenians. They also told him that the reason no messenger had come from court was that the king had died.

This news caused Cain to wonder what fate might await him at the hands of Artaxerxes’s successor. But there was no change in the prison arrangements. According to the day jailers, the new king, who took the name Darius II, was intensely focused on the Peloponnesian War in Greece, following a policy first of aiding the Athenians and then the Spartans. For more than a century now, Cain thought, the mightiest empire on earth has been obsessed with a small collection of independent city-states.

“The war has spread to Sicily,” a jailer told the prisoner one day.

“It goes well for the Athenians?” Cain inquired.

“Oh, no, Agathon, the Athenians have suffered a stinging defeat in the harbor at Syracuse. Hundreds of their ships are lost. The effects on Athens will be devastating.”

Cain thought wistfully of another time, of another Athens. Accustomed to being free to participate in the course of human events, his only freedom now lay in his mind.

***

A night jailer who called himself Cyrus had shown a particular interest in befriending Cain. The jailer had, in fact, offered to furnish the prisoner with writing tools, carving supplies, and candles. The offer raised Cain’s suspicions, since passing anything except food and water through the slender opening in the door would most likely be frowned on by the authorities. But Cain was brimming with ideas for new designs. In particular, he wanted to explore developing a mechanical reaper to improve agricultural output, a peacetime counterpart to the horrendous war machine he had created for Themistocles before Salamis.

All the night jailer asked for in return for his good offices was information about what Cain was writing on papyrus and drawing on the walls of his cell.

“You are said to be a masterful designer,” came the disembodied voice from beyond the door one night.

“And who compliments me thus?” Cain inquired.

“I have many contacts at court, Agathon. They tell me you are a wizard at war machines. What specific offensive weapons have you invented?”

The man was a bit too curious for a run-of-the-mill jailer on the night shift, and how could a mere jailer boast of contacts at court? Cain was on his guard. Perhaps this was a spy sent by the emperor.

“I don’t know what you mean, Cyrus,” he replied disingenuously. “But with the benefit of your supplies, I may be able to develop something promising.”

“By all means, you may count on me. But be sure you describe for me the drawings you create on the walls. I am most interested in your plans.” As Cain stood up from the small opening through which they were conversing, another possibility crossed his mind.

Was Cyrus the master of spirits?

Although he couldn’t answer the question definitively, Cain’s suspicions grew as the years passed. He used the supplies conveyed to him by the night jailer for purely beneficial projects—the mechanical reaper, for example, as well as refining the design for his geared navigational timing device. But the night jailer seemed interested only in weaponry.

It was also odd that, as the decades passed and night jailers came and went, one of the guards claimed that he was the son of a former night jailer who had died. Although Cain had to admit that the voices of “father” and “son” were somewhat different, he was unconvinced. He had, as he well remembered, employed the same ruse to disguise his true identity in Egypt.

As he weighed the motivations of those who guarded him by night, Cain decided on a test.

“I have devised a formula for creating an explosive powder made of natural minerals. The ingredients won’t be easy to find, and they must be combined in proper proportions,” Cain whispered through the two-way portal.

“And what will you use the powder for?” came the reply.

“I am working on my designs for an arrow launcher,” Cain improvised. “I want to enhance the propulsive power. I’ll need saltpeter crystals distilled from bat guano, and sulfur. Also some charcoal. But the sulfur needs to be freshly extracted from the mines in Sicily. The best quality.”

“Splendid, prisoner. And what will we call our new mixture?”

“I’ve been more focused on the formula itself than the name. For now, I suppose the label ‘black powder’ would be apt,” Cain replied.

When all the materials were passed through the small opening a mere two nights later, Cain concluded that he was indeed dealing with the master of spirits. He resolved to become more circumspect in his conversations from now on.

***

His day jailers kept him informed about events in the wider world. The rosters of these guards rotated frequently, as jail duty was limited to one year, after which the young conscripts were sent off to battle. But none of them seemed curious about the longevity of their prisoner. As far as they were concerned, they were being paid to slide sustenance through a small opening, share some innocuous conversation, and little else.