Ammonios snorted and followed the clerk to a distant alcove, whither we accompanied him. We found Varsako the Numidian arguing over a map with a young man who, I learnt, was Artemidoros of Ephesos. This Artemidoros was making his first visit to Alexandria and cherished ambitions to become a geographer. When he learnt who I was, he practically fawned on me. He and the Numidian were disputing over the shape of Africa. Although Varsako did look a bit wild in his catskin turban and golden bangles, he quieted down peaceably enough when Ammonios spoke to him.
"Let me see that," said Agatharchides, bending over the map.
"The Numidian gentleman," explained Artemidoros, "claims that Africa extends much farther south than this map shows. I say that's impossible, because ..."
The three were off on a hot dispute, hissing arguments in an undertone. The Hellenes relied on quotations from Homer, Hekataios, and other ancient worthies, whilst the Numidian stubbornly insisted that the nomadic tribes south of his land told of vast plains and forests beyond the desert, which could never be fitted into the map. I had done enough actual exploring to distrust the ancients; but I had something else in mind than getting involved in this war of words.
"If you will excuse me for a while," I said, and walked Ammonios back to his desk. On the way, he showed me some of the oddities of the Library: a man composing a treatise on the use of the vocative case in Homer; a man who believed that the world was a hollow sphere with us on the inside; a man who was writing an epic on the fall of Carthage without using the letter omega; and a man who thought the world was about to end, when certain planets came into conjunction, and who wanted to do all the reading possible before that distressing event.
I hastened back to the Museum and found Kallimachos the physician. He was lecturing on the human skull, so I had to wait. When he had dismissed his class and put his skull away, I said:
"O Kallimachos, might I talk to you in strict privacy?"
"Dear me, what's up?" he said. "Let me see ..." We wandered about the building, but every room we passed was occupied. At last we came to a locked room, and Kallimachos took a quick look up and down the hall. Seeing nobody, he produced a key and unlocked the door.
"In, quickly!" he whispered. "I'm not supposed to show you this; but it's the only place available."
Inside the large room were models and drawings of cryptic devices and some of the devices themselves.
"Zeus, Apollon, and Demeter!" I said. "What's all this?"
Kallimachos explained the purposes of these strange machines; the temples of Alexandria used them to awe their worshipers. For instance, there was an arrangement of tilting and sliding mirrors to make spirits appear before the sitters at a s6ance. There was a magical pitcher that seemingly changed water into wine. I exclaimed:
"By Bakchos' balls, what shameless hypocrites the priests of those temples must be!"
"Why do you say that?"
"If they weren't atheists, they'd fear that the gods they pretend to worship would smite them for taking such liberties."
"Not at all, my dear fellow. Most are as pious as the next man. If the gods want worship and sacrifice, they ought to cooperate with their priests by doing a miracle now and then, to keep the flock faithful. When the gods shirk the job, the priests must need fake these miracles. Of course, a priest's idea of a god may differ from that of an ordinary worshiper."
"How?"
"Some of these priests, despite the nonsense they talk, are modern, educated men. Therefore they are skeptical about gods like Homer's, always getting drunk, seducing one another's wives, and clouting one another over the head like barbarian warriors. They conceive the gods as invisible, impersonal forces, whose nature can be grasped only dimly, if at all, by our fallible senses. Now, what did you wish to see me about?"
I told Kallimachos about my loss of virility, adding: "I thought that, if any new discoveries would shed light on this problem, this would be the place to inquire."
"I'm sorry to disappoint you, best one," said Kallimachos. "That is one of ten thousand things we ought to know about the human body but don't. Otototoi! We are not making such progress in medicine here in Alexandria as once we did."
"Why? Lack of money for research?"
"It's partly that; but the main reason is the law against dissection."
"What's that?" I asked.
"Sixty or seventy years ago, when Herophilos and Erasistratos were cutting up corpses, they were really learning things. But the Egyptians insist that bodies should be embalmed and preserved forever. When they heard that the Museum was carving corpses for the base, blasphemous purpose of improving the health of mankind, they rioted until the hen king forbade all dissection of human beings, alive or dead. And that law still stands."
"Couldn't you persuade the present king—"
"Not this king! He relies upon the superstitious Egyptians and will do anything to curry favor with them. That's one reason he has cut our appropriations down to a shadow of their former selves; the Egyptians have no use for the Library or the Museum, so he saves his gold and placates the natives at the same time." The old physiologist sighed. "Alas! The only things that people seem to care about in this degenerate age are weird new religious cults. About science, they know and care nothing and prefer not to learn. But to return to your flaccid member: Do you eat lots of snails, eggs, and sea food?"
"Yes."
"I suppose you have tried all the commercial aphrodisiacs?"
"Yes, and found them ineffective, save for irritating the bladder."
"As far as we are concerned, they are worthless; but we know of nothing better."
"I've heard that the wise men of India might know a cure."
He shrugged. "They might; they're said to do some remarkable things. The only way to find out would be to go to India."
Back at the Library, I rejoined Agatharchides, Artemidoros, and Varsako. We talked in hushed tones about questions of geography until Ammonios came to us, saying:
"I'm sorry, gentlemen, but it is closing time."
Sure enough, the sun had set. The light was dimming, and readers were streaming out of the Library. The four of us started towards Point Lochias, then decided to eat at a local tavern instead of returning to the palaces. As Agatharchides put it:
"It's pleasant to eat sometimes without the sensation that somebody is surreptitiously watching you from a secret passage."
We found a place that had enough food on hand to fill all of us, thus saving us a trip to a market to buy the materials. During the repast, Agatharchides bewailed the fact that he could not afford to publish several works he had written.
"I have composed a history of Europe, and a history of Asia," he said, "and a survey of the Red Sea. But Physkon has stopped all money for new publication."
"Could you ask him for the money as a personal favor, to show his appreciation of the splendid education you've given his sons?"
"I have, as often as I dared, to no avail. He seems to think that a scholar should subsist on barley porridge and beautiful thoughts."
After the meal, when the others were getting ready to leave, I said: "You two go on; I want to talk to Agatharchides in confidence. Where are you living, Artemidoros?'
"I have rented a room on the waterfront, near Cape Lochias. I'll show Varsako back to the palaces."
When they had gone, I ordered more wine and said to Agatharchides: "My friend, if the Physkon chooses the direct voyage to India—which you seem to think likely—I want the command of it."
Agatharchides gasped with surprise. "By Earth and the gods! You, an outsider, virtually unknown in Alexandria?"
"Yes, me. Think of my qualifications! I'm an old sea captain with plenty of experience, including the exploration of unknown coasts. I'm a competent geographer and not so unknown as all that; both Hippalos and Artemidoros know my work. Best of all, I don't belong to the faction of either of the Kleopatras."