The Story of Archimedes, Bathtaker - Chapter 1

King Hiero II of Syracuse posed awkwardly on his throne, and kept his eyes fixed forward to the ornate pine doors at the end of the large royal chamber. Directly to his left, the royal blacksmith was etching a profile of Hiero’s face with charcoal and parchment, sighing and grunting as he scratched away.

Hiero knew that the profile would be a necessary addition to all new coins minted in Syracuse during his reign, however the blacksmith had been sketching for 20 minutes already, and Hiero’s neck was getting sore.

Hiero had noticed that his every slight movement or change of expression drew an exasperated groan from the blacksmith. Hiero was doing his best to stay completely stationary, and so was not even able to check the blacksmith’s progress. As he dully began to wonder how long this torture would last, three loud knocks shook the heavy doors, and echoed up the throne room.

‘Enter’ ordered Hiero, with obvious relief. Beside him, the blacksmith moaned softly. The chamber guards, who had been doing a far better job of remaining immobile than Hiero himself, synchronously pulled the large bronze handles, and the great doors swung open. Between them stood Phidias, Hiero’s cousin, the Royal Astronomer, who stepped hurriedly into the room.

Phidias’ appearance had always amused Hiero. Though his family was quite wealthy, Phidias’ robes were always stained and frayed. His beard and hair were long and untidy. No matter the occasion, beneath bushy eyebrows, Phidias’ eyes darted around with panicked bewilderment.

‘Phidias!’ Hiero welcomed him cheerfully, ‘what news of the skies?’ Hiero did not understand the science of astronomy at all, but he enjoyed listening to Phidias speak of it.

Phidias stopped abruptly on his path towards the throne and cast his eyes about the room with anxious hesitation. ‘Er… tis cloudy today, my lord’ he declared. Hiero paused to digest this observation, and Phidias continued, ‘I trust I’m not interrupting anything important sir?’

‘Not at all!’ cried Hiero, almost too quickly. To his left, the blacksmith gave a small gasp of outrage, which Hiero ignored. ‘What is it you need?’

‘It’s… it’s my son, your worship’ Phidias trembled.

‘Ah yes, how is the young fellow? Archie-’

‘Archimedes, that’s right sir. He turned 17 three months ago.’ Phidias paused.

‘Well, my congratulations-’

‘I’m concerned,’ interrupted Phidias, ‘now he is of age, that if a… um, conflict was to ignite, Archimedes would be… er, drafted. Into the army’.

Suddenly, the purpose of Phidias’ visit became clear to Hiero.

Syracuse was the largest Greek city on the island of Sicily. Unfortunately, at the time of King Hiero’s rule, Syracuse found itself geographically in the middle of two powerful kingdoms. To the north, the Roman Republic ruled the entire Italian peninsula. To the south, the Carthaginian Empire had conquered all territory along the north coast of Africa, and into Spain. Inevitably, Syracuse would soon be involved in war, as these two superpowers fought for control of the Mediterranean Sea.

Hiero frowned at Phidias. ‘And we will need him! As we will need every other able-bodied man. To protect the city, and our homes!’

‘Ah… yes, sir, I agree of course,’ Phidias responded slowly. ‘It’s just that… well, it’s Archimedes. He is quite useless my lord.’

Hiero’s frown softened as he raised his eyebrows. Phidias made a good point. Hiero had only met Archimedes once or twice, but he remembered him to be a very unusual boy. Like Phidias, Archimedes was often distracted with puzzles of mathematics and science. Unlike his father however, Archimedes seemed altogether disinterested in maintaining any social respectability. Once, at a royal garden party, Hiero had noticed Archimedes sitting all alone, drawing circles in the dirt with a stick.

Hiero nodded slowly, ‘I see.’

‘I was hoping sir, for his safety, and the safety of the other troops, that Archimedes would be… um exempt from military service.’

Hiero frowned again, but when he spoke his voice was touched with sadness. ‘And if the astronomer’s son is exempt, why not the stonemason’s son? Or the fishmonger’s son?’ Phidias did not respond. ‘No exemptions can be made. If he is an able-bodied man in Syracuse, he must serve.’

‘I… ah, considered that sir, and, well… I was thinking. What if Archimedes wasn’t in Syracuse?’

Hiero tilted his head to the side, and heard the blacksmith curse under his breath. ‘Go on?’

‘Yes sir. I have a friend, Eratosthenes, who runs a library in Egypt. I was hoping… with your permission of course sir, that Archimedes could leave to study there, and return when it is safer.’

Hiero tilted his head the other way, thinking. ‘It is absolutely necessary for him to travel to Egypt? I mean to say, there’s no way he could continue his studies here?’

Phidias shook his head vigorously. ‘No sir. At 17, he has already learned everything I have to teach him.’

At last, Hiero’s frown relaxed into a smile. So long as Archimedes had a legitimate reason for leaving the city, no one could complain that he hadn’t been drafted. What was more, Hiero had to agree with Phidias. Achimedes’ antisocial behaviour would be quite dangerous during a military conflict. The further away he was, the more successful Hiero’s army was sure to be.

Hiero stood and strode over to Phidias, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘So it will be, my good man. Archimedes will journey to the land of the pyramids, and when he returns he will regale us with the many fantastic things he has seen.’

As Phidias wrung his hands and nodded gratefully, Hiero heard the rustle of rolled parchment and a disgruntled sigh. The blacksmith had given up.