He walked back to his tent, where he took some bread and cheese and a skin filled with water, then he decided to walk, and since Timothy would be watching, he would walk in the opposite direction to the town.
The sun was pleasant as he walked along a track that broadly followed the coast, but along the hills. What would he do if he failed to solve the problem? That was a problem in itself. He could beg, he could. . No! He had to stop thinking like that. He must devote his mind solely to this problem and deal with failure if he failed. He walked on, but nothing came to him. The problem seemed insoluble.
He reached the top of a hill and gazed out. The sea was so calm. Out there were two fishing boats, happily. . No! He was being distracted. The sun was so warm too. All this walk was doing was making him hot. He needed shade, and perhaps fewer new things to look at. That was it. He must sit down somewhere.
It was then that he saw, down in the small valley, amongst some trees, a small temple. Nobody seemed to be about, so he decided he would use the shade. He walked down and found a shady spot. As he looked around he noticed that the temple was old, the marble cracked, weeds were coming out from between the stones, it was almost as if this temple had long been abandoned. Near the altar was a statue of a woman who seemed to be thinking. Divine assistance with thinking was just what he needed, although, as he noted wryly to himself, from the decaying nature of this temple, thinking was not exactly a highly valued commodity amongst the locals. Not that it mattered. The sun now seemed to be past mid-day. He had a few sips of water, then he began eating his bread and cheese. He finished these, sipped some more water, then, rather reluctantly, decided he must concentrate on the problem.
He lay back, and felt the warm sun on his face. The problem kept circulating through his head, but, he realized, that was the problem. It circulated unchanged. He was getting nowhere. He was missing something. The answer! No, he corrected himself, the way to get to the answer.
The sun was too warm. A better position was at the temple altar. If nothing else, the statue was at the cooler part of the temple, an ideal place for thinking, and since the temple looked as if it had never been used for years, this could hardly be termed sacrilege. On impulse, he looked at the writing carved into the stone: it had been dedicated to Athene, goddess of war and wisdom. A strange mix, he thought. Still, he needed wisdom right then. On impulse, he muttered a prayer.
Nothing happened, not that he expected much. This was his problem, and he had to solve it. And that was easier said than done.
He sat with his back to the altar. The light seemed a little darker; a cloud had passed across the sun. Wretched problem! Was there even an answer? Yes, he thought, as inspiration seemed to come, he could address that. Either there was or there was not, for there were no other choices. Therefore there must be an answer, for otherwise nobody could win but Timothy must lose. Timothy did not strike him as an inevitable loser.
He had to summarize what he knew. He had one question, and he had to use it, and the answer had to tell which door was the correct one, so the question had to involve the door. He was only allowed to ask a guard, so he had to do that. 'My problem,' he summarized to himself, 'is that I cannot guarantee to get the truth. It is impossible to work out which guard will lie, given this information.'
It was then that another wave of inspiration passed over him. He remembered advice from old Libo, "Stop worrying about what you can't do, and concentrate on what you can." Yes! He could not guarantee to get a true answer, but perhaps he could guarantee to get a lie. He leaped to his feet, and gave a cry of triumph.
* * *
"So?" Timothy asked at last. Gaius had sat before him, impassively, for some time, and had been quietly carving pieces of roast meat and stuffing them in his mouth, in between chewing on vegetables. "Do you have a solution?"
"Oh yes, the problem," Gaius said with a shrug. "I almost forgot about that."
"To which I assume you have no answer, short of taking a fifty-fifty guess?"
"Oh," Gaius remarked carelessly, "I have a much better answer than that."
"And did you work this out, or did you cheat and get the answer?"
"I worked it out," Gaius said, "although I did get inspiration."
"And what was that?" Timothy asked impassively.
"From an old temple in a valley about five kilometers in that direction."
"You went there," Timothy remarked. "That temple has been abandoned for about a hundred years."
"I believe it," Gaius replied, as he took a sip of wine. "You know, Timothy, this wine is rather good."
"It's been in a cask for some time," Timothy smiled. "We Greeks have a taste for the better things in life."
"So I see," Gaius said, as he picked up a piece of fruit.
"I remind you," Timothy said caustically, "that claiming to have a solution is not the same as having one. I am about to retire for the night, so if you wish to claim success, you had better get on with it."
"The answer I have depends critically on the guards knowing and obeying the rules."
"Assume that. So?"
"I cannot work out who is telling the truth," Gaius explained, "so with one question to one guard I cannot get the truth, and in fact I'm not sure that two questions would help. One question to both guards gets both answers, so that's no help. However, I can guarantee to get a lie, by getting both guards to answer in sequence. I ask a guard which door the other guard would tell me was the safe door. That way I get one truth and one lie, hence a lie, hence I choose the other door to that given in the answer."
Timothy nodded, and said with a smile, "In that case I had better prepare some lessons for you."
* * *
The next day, Gaius had a pang of conscience. He did not believe in Gods, but on the other hand he had prayed to Athene, the problem had been solved, and he had just got up and ran. So while he did not believe in Gods, there was no point in incurring their wrath through such negligence. He arrived back at the temple shortly after noon. He walked to the altar, said a 'Thank you', then feeling that this was a little abrupt, he lay down in a shady alcove beside the altar and stared towards the hill. The sun was warm on his skin, the air still, there was a pleasant fresh smell, it was so peaceful. He lay there, and watched the shadows move slowly and grow slowly longer. He ate some bread and cheese, then he sat back to reflect. Life was certainly worth living on a day like this. He felt his eyelids becoming heavier.
"It is good to see you are now untroubled." Gaius turned slowly to see one of the most beautiful women he had ever imagined. Blonde hair, a beautiful skin that almost seemed to glow, but above all the eyes struck Gaius. They seemed infinitely deep, and, so un-Greek-like, were grey. Then, with something of a jolt, he recognized the face: it was the face of the statue. How could that be? He glanced down to see the most incredible cloth he could imagine. It glowed slightly, it flowed in a breeze that was not there, and it seemed almost out of focus, for there were no sharp edges. The wreath-crown in her hair seemed simple, but it glowed a magnificent light, like nothing he had ever seen before, or had even imagined possible before. But there was something else: her expression. It was almost as if she had taken a deep breath before she had spoken.
"Wh who are you?" Gaius asked in a dazed voice.
"Oh, Gaius Claudius Scaevola," came an almost ethereal reply. "Did you not come to thank me?"
"I came. ." Gaius found himself saying, and then he stopped. How did she know his new cognomen? He had told nobody on Rhodes. Was this really Athene?