Sicily though evaded him and he craved it for no apparent good reason. He could not deny to himself that its position was strategic. And he smiled at his achievement in only a few miserable years. He was proud of the strength and wealth that was his Egypt.
For he was Ptolemy I Soter, the King and Pharaoh of all of Egypt, the successor to all the Pharaohs and their glorious dynasties that came before him; such an exalted heritage and such weight on his shoulders. He knew he was worthy of such inheritance and history and achievement.
And let’s not forget that he was also successor to Alexander, yes, the one and only, the Great, the general of generals, that great strategist, the founder of this great city, whose tomb had pride of place in Ptolemy’s capital, shielding inside his sacred and now divine body.
Alexander had become a god and he was worshipped and embraced as such in the whole of the Egyptian lands, within boundaries that enclosed a vast expanse, Alexander the divinity, worshipped as one of the greatest of the pantheon of Ptolemaic gods that encompassed Greek and Egyptian deities and honoured and loved them all.
Ptolemy turned to his visitor who had been patiently waiting a few steps behind. ‘My dear Hieronymus, our work at the Library has only just begun and may my successors prove worthy and keep my dream alive and expand it.’
A royal servant interrupted.
‘Your Majesty, Demetrius of Phaleron is waiting to see you.’
‘How long has he been waiting for? By the gods, Antinas, you have no respect for old age. Bring him here. Have you at least offered him a seat to rest his old bones, some water or wine, perhaps?’
Antinas lowered his head and bowed to his king so low that he almost prostrated himself on the floor. Ptolemy was about to dismiss him when he heard a familiar voice.
‘Ptolemy. Your servant has not seen me before? He deserves a good whipping. I’m not getting any younger, you know. It’s not a secret that your ambitious library project is keeping me busy.’
‘I knew you were the right person for the job. It must be torture to leave your now primary home, is it not?’
‘It is indeed. It is indeed. May your ambition for it keep expanding together with its size, so as to keep me fit and sustain my soul.’
‘Well, you have always been fit. But some fresh air will not make you ill, let alone kill you. Demetrius, I have a mission for you. I hear some canny souls in Pergamon are attempting to bypass my ban on the export of papyrus by experimenting with a new material made of animal hides. I want to know what progress they have made.’
‘I will not ask whether your source is reliable.’ Demetrius saw Ptolemy’s thunderous expression, eyes shooting fire and shut up.
‘You’ve never questioned my information before. How dare you do so now?’
Demetrius was aware he had overstepped the mark and putting familiarity to one side, deployed a respectful tone suitable to the great king before him. ‘My king my intention was not to doubt you. Please forgive me.’ He could not help himself. He had to say it. But Ptolemy caught his thought before it was transformed into words.
‘You think it improbable, don’t you?’ ‘No, my Great King. I will go personally’ ‘First, do not patronise me, Demetrius. Drop the formalities. We’ve known each other for far too long. And though I would trust you with my life, you are to remain here. You are too valuable to me. I want you to send someone else that you can trust, but who is also expendable. The journey is perilous.’
‘As you wish. I believe I have someone in mind.’
‘Good.’ Ptolemy turned to look at his beloved city deep in thought. That was Demetrius’ cue to leave.
Demetrius bowed gently and walked away. Now, with that out of the way, Ptolemy needed to tend to two well-travelled visitors who had just landed in their midst from afar. He waited and when Demetrius was out of earshot he turned his attention to Hieronymus.
‘My dear Hieronymus, how is progress at the Pharos? Will I see my lighthouse finished, do you think, before I die? I have passed by in disguise and I did not like what I saw. Construction appears to have slowed lately. Work should have been even faster as I get older. I’m not getting any younger, you know. Maybe I should pay the site a visit, undisguised, to speed things up.’
Ptolemy paused and extended his arm towards the city before them. Hieronymus next to him was looking at his feet, deep in thought.
‘Hieronymus, feast your eyes. Do not ignore the feast before you at your feet. Isn’t it a spectacle? My creation in only a few years, out of nothing. Alexander may have planted the foundation stone, but it was I that gave it life and the nutrition to grow. And it has grown, beyond my expectations and wildest dreams. The greatest city on earth.’
Giorgos and Aristo were not far behind. But they had taken a detour. Aristo could never resist markets and the market by the harbour called to him like a flower to a bee.
Giorgos saw Aristo veering off course at every turn and soon after every attempt to correct his deviation, or so it seemed, from their intended destination when relief at such an apparent success quickly turned to annoyance. ‘Come on, Aristo, let’s go. Why are you going that way?’
‘I want to see that stall over there. Oh, and that one… Yes, I’ll have two of that… and… look at that… look at those pancakes and the honey… yes, two of those… and I have to get some of that.’
‘What’s got into you? You are behaving like an impetuous child. You sound as if you have regressed to the age of ten. Come on, leave that, we have to go.’
Aristo winked conspiratorially at Giorgos to remind him about such a thing as a sense of humour. ‘Hold your horses. How often do get the chance to be here? It’s never happened before and it’s not likely to happen again. Oh, what is that smell? Let me just see that stall over there. It will be the last one, I promise.’
Giorgos rolled his eyes to the heavens. But Aristo pretended to relent feigning disappointment. He was really playing with Giorgos after all. What Aristo was really looking for was for valuable manuscripts and he found a contact from whom he bought two with coins that he had found inside a small pocket in his chiton.
That would be their passport as visitors into the Great Library. Ptolemy, determined to make his Library the greatest in the world, decreed that every visitor to the city was obliged to leave behind a manuscript for the Library’s collection.
Giorgos and Aristo reached the great Library where, as visitors from Athens, and bringing with them the ultimately desirable gift to Ptolemy, two rare manuscripts, they expected to gain favour with the King and entry into the inner parts of the Library.
After a short meeting with Ptolemy, they were led on an honorary tour of the Library they had so generously endowed, and about which they had heard so much and were dying to see for themselves.
During the tour Giorgos and Aristo noticed that the building was unusually quiet for this time of the day. They asked their guide who simply smiled and looked away as if he did not understand their question.
As they were passing by shelf after shelf choked full and brimming to its lips with papyrus scrolls, their eyes caught a glimpse of something that looked unlike any of the expected contents of the collection, not a scroll but something shiny. It was only a brief glimpse that stared them in the eye and sent the light through their eyelids and burned their skin, as if rushing to brand itself, its memory upon them.
They both screamed, but their scream died inside their vocal chords that went on strike and never left their locked lips. Their guide seemed to be oblivious to their predicament and impervious to their reactions. He kept walking and smiling to himself. His lips seemed to be moving of their own volition, but nothing came out. His arms were glued to his sides, the movement of his hips was awkward and his walk unsteady.