Two of Bias' penthouses stood on the mole, for the Council had ordered a second. Each was a stout shed with thick timbers on the seaward side, whence hostile missiles might come. The first story provided quarters for. the crews and space for ammunition. A battery of catapults, hauled up wooden ramps, lined the roof, which was surrounded by a low wall of heavy timber to shield the crews.
The four Isisdorian stone throwers occupied the penthouse at the far end of the mole, while the six dart throwers of Bias' own battery stood on the other penthouse, between the mole's end and the base.
We could not mount similar works on the other moles for lack of space. Therefore, battery platforms were being erected on three large merchant ships moored in the Great Harbor, on each of which would be placed another battery.
Bias said: "We'll ground her at the base of the mole. Ah, there's one of the temple thieves now!"
Bias referred to one of the light Antigonian galleys—perhaps of piratical origin—on whose bow Demetrios had built a small penthouse. This structure had a single three-span dart thrower inside and an iron shutter in front to protect the crew. Demetrios had outfitted several ships in this manner, and others with light towers for archers forward, pvery day one or more appeared off the harbor to harass the workmen strengthening our defenses.
At first the workmen scattered like quail before a hawk when the missiles whizzed over. In time they became used to them, discovering that shots from a bobbing platform at single scattered individuals make few hits indeed. Now the clatter of hammers and the snore of saws hardly paused as the missiles arrived.
At the base of the mole we levered the new catapult off its rollers and set it up. I asked:
"Do you want maximum range?"
"Not the first time. Try the tenth notch. Somebody tell them people on the mole to stop shooting so we can fix our range."
We cocked our new engine. It was a beautiful piece of construction, light and graceful but strong, with five trough positions and twenty notches in its racks. The handlers trained the trough on the target with rope and crowbar. I gave the word:
"Shoot!"
The first dart rose high and fell just short of the two catapult ships. On the next shot I gave the crosshead one more notch and scored a clean hit.
We whooped and danced. The ships, aware of us now, turned their bows towards us and let fly. One three-span dart plunked into the water nearby, while another struck the paving and clattered end over end till it struck the harbor wall.
"Again," said Bias.
Again we made a hit. The third shot missed by a small margin, but the fourth struck home. Our target turned and rowed off, with some confusion among its rowers where men in the undecked waist had been struck. We continued to send darts after it until maximum range had been reached. The catapult sang like a bird in spring.
Berosos said: "By the gods, O Bias, methinks your engine can shoot seventeen or eighteen plethra!"
I said: "That must be a world's record. A cheer for Bias, boys!"
"Iai!" they cried.
Bias gave us a wrinkled, leathery grin. "Thanks, fellows, but let's wait and see how she turns out in endurance and ease of maintenance. A practical engineer don't make promises until he knows from experience."
The new catapult proved a great success, save that the complicated skein shackles (which had built-in wedges for tautening the skeins) made the process of restringing it more laborious than with those of the older kinds. We named the class after aspects of the weather; thus the pilot model became Lightning.
As I assisted Bias with the building of eleven more of this model, I came to know the carpenter better and to respect him more: "wise to resolve, and patient to perform." Bias had his faults, as who does not? Besides the crudity of his speech and manners, he was filled with rancorous resentment towards the full citizens, who were richer and more powerful than he. On the other hand, he despised slaves and unskilled workmen as lazy, worthless half-wits and bullied them when he commanded them.
At the same time Bias was one of those rarities: an utterly honest and truthful man. If he said a thing was so, you could be sure it was. And he knew more about building things than anybody I have known, including some of the world's outstanding architects and engineers.
The third year of the 118th Olympiad drew to a close. So absorbed was I in soldiering and catapult building that summer stole upon me unawares, and I almost forgot the other pleasures that our lovely city still afforded. When outraged nature drove me at last to visit my friend the flute girl, I found Berosos there before me. As I opened the door, something jangled.
The Babylonian had been sitting on a couch beside Doris, with an astrological chart spread out upon his knees. I suppose he had been telling her that the stars compelled her to be intimate with him—a novel approach, though not one that I should care to use. On the table stood cups and two small jars of wine.
Berosos jumped up, dropping his chart and spilling his wine. "Oh, dear Chares, how sorry am I! I meant not to intrude. I merely stopped for a talk. Doris and I have known each other for long—"
"Save your excuses, old boy," I said.
I looked into the wine jars. Sure enough, a small red mullet floated belly-up in one. It is said that wine in which such a fish has been drowned will infallibly prevent a woman from conceiving. In fact, Theseus the fishmonger kept a supply of live red mullets in a tub for the convenience of the pleasure women of the town.
I laughed at the flustered Babylonian. "You came for the same thing I did. Well and good, I shall withdraw and come back later."
"You mean you two won't quarrel over me?" said Doris in a disappointed voice.
"No, my dear. I'm much too busy these days. By the way, Berosos, how are all the great love affairs coming?"
"I know not wh-what you mean," he said. I daresay he blushed, though his skin was too swarthy to mark it easily.
"Never mind, I was only teasing." I looked more closely at the door. "Ah, I see. You have a bell that rings every time somebody opens the door. What's the purpose of that, Doris?"
"My master, the old stinkpot, put that up," she said. "That's so he can keep track of the number of friends I entertain and collect his share of my earnings."
"Do you know, Berosos, I think we could put this knavish device out of action. A little lump of beeswax—"
"Oh, no!" said Doris. "If old Theron doesn't hear the bell at all, he'll know something has been done to it. Then he will not only beat me but also bore a hole through the wall or something, the better to spy upon me."
Berosos peered at the bell. "Methinks we could invent a means that would enable Doris to turn the bell on or off as she lists."
He and I fell into a lively discussion of possible methods of activating and silencing the bell, until Doris burst out: "Why in the name of Zeus the King did I ever become friends with a couple of engineers? I expect you, when you visit me, to tell me the things a woman likes to hear: how beautiful and charming I am, and how you adore me. Instead, Berosos gives me lectures in astronomy while Chares always wants to make technical improvements in my poor little apartment!"
"I'm going now, anyway," I said. "Farewell, and have a good—ah—talk."
The next day a trumpet blast brought me in haste to the South Mole, to take command of Talos. Out at sea lay a number of Demetrios' great ships, flinging darts and even stones from their catapults. Although the morning had been fair, as I reached my post the sky clouded over and a moaning wind sprang up. The galleys, great and small, wallowed and tossed until they had to pull in their lower oars and block the ports, and their missiles flew wilder than ever.