"That is certainly true," Selene allowed.
"And you could use a bit of popularity just now," Flaccus said, practical as always. "The enthusiasm over turning back Hamilcar's invasion has worn off. The Alexandrian mob is famously fickle, and now they grumble about high prices for corn and the new taxes to pay for renewed hostilities. This might be just the thing to put them back in a good mood."
"But this trivializes my momentous discoveries!" Euphenes cried.
Selene turned on him with a basilisk gaze. "Sir, I am still displeased with you for disturbing the peace of my morning. I grant permission to install your steam-tooter in the Hippodrome. The first races of the season begin in ten days. As always, I will be there for opening day. If, as Chrysis predicts, the crowd reacts favorably and I benefit from this, then I will fund your further researches. But you must find a place away from the palace and Museum to carry out your work-somewhere where the noise will not offend my ears, and where your exploding boilers will only endanger yourself and your slaves."
Euphenes bowed low. "Your Majesty is too generous. My steam organ will be the hit of the games."
The queen and the Romans swept out of the courtyard, leaving Euphenes, the organist and the wandering Greeks alone.
"Euphenes," Izates asked, "I believe I grasp the principle you propose: that water transformed by heat into steam creates great pressure that may be intelligently directed."
"Succinctly put," Euphenes said, nodding.
"But," Izates went on, "how do you propose to harness it to useful work?"
With an audience of like-minded persons, Euphenes lost much of his impatient demeanor and explained patiently: "The applications must be limitless. What can one not do with the power of the very wind harnessed to the human will? This great toy merely proved my thesis. I believe it to be the greatest discovery since the principle of the lever was first articulated. Look at how much has resulted from that!"
"But you have no specific applications with which to please Her Majesty and the Romans?" Zeno asked.
"Ah-no, not really," Euphenes admitted. "I deal more in the realm of pure theory. The water organ occurred to me immediately, because the common flute is nothing but a pipe through which one blows breath, which is a form of wind. It seemed natural to apply the matchless power of steam to the biggest set of flutes in the world."
"Very sagacious," Zeno commended. "Might I suggest, now that you have proven your theory, that you speak with Chilo and convene a meeting of all the natural philosophers and mechanics of the Museum. If you explain to them the principles you have discovered, it may be that some of them will find applications for your work within their own disciplines."
Euphenes combed his fingers through his scruffy beard. "That is a possibility. Of course, it must be understood that discovery of the principle belongs to me."
"The glory will be all yours, Euphenes," Izates assured him. "You will lecture and publish your theories. After all, it is Archimedes everyone remembers, not the generations of mechanics who have made use of his principles of leverage, of buoyancy and displacement."
Euphenes nodded his grizzled head. "Yes, yes, that is true. This bears thinking about, my friends. But first, I must make a favorable impression upon the queen and the Hippodrome crowds." Now the head shook. "Imagine! I, a philosopher, reduced to pleasing a silly woman and an ignorant mob. Oh, the things we must do for the advancement of philosophy!" He turned to,the organist and they discussed moving the huge organ back to its accustomed location.
Zeno and Izates stepped aside. "What kind of Cynic are you, Izates?" Zeno asked, grinning. "I've never known you to flatter a man's vanity like that."
Izates shrugged. "Of late, I find myself becoming less of a Cynic and more-what shall I call it? A utilitarian? It's the atmosphere of this place. It encourages a less rigid, more flexible frame of mind. One does what is necessary to produce a desirable result."
"And this place was once your very model of hidebound, inflexible conservatism," Zeno noted.
"We live in a new age, my friend," Izates said. "Come on, let's go find some lunch. That is a necessity as well."
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Hamilcar, shofet of Carthage, found to his surprise that he was pleased with the world. The failure of his Egyptian expedition was no more than a temporary setback, the usurpation of Carthaginian territory by resurgent Rome nothing more than a worthy challenge whereby he could prove to the world his greatness, that he was no mere inheritor, but a conqueror in his own right.
The news from the River Arnus had filled him with satisfaction. Two whole Roman legions utterly annihilated! The myth of Roman superiority destroyed! And he was not at all displeased that Mastanabal had been forced by his losses to retreat. For the general to have continued to march against Rome, even to capture the city, would have given him more honor than he should have. Then Mastanabal would have been the hero of this war, not his shofet. That would have been unfitting, and would have resulted in the general's immediate execution, lest he march against Hamilcar and seize the throne for himself. With Mastanabal safely in Gaul, raising troops for a renewed assault upon Rome from the north, he served his purpose perfectly. The Romans would strip badly needed legions from the South to guard against that renewed attack, which would not come until Hamilcar was ready.
True, the great delay in his war plans caused by the fire rankled, but it might have been a blessing sent by the gods of Carthage, restraining him from moving too fast. There was no doubt that he was now in a far better position than he had been. Perhaps, they had also sent him Queen Teuta, who had so stimulated his mind, bringing out his true genius and helping him to recognize his destiny.
As a bonus, news of the victory had deflated Zarabel's pretensions. The priests of Tanit did not call quite so loudly for a Tophet. They could not claim that the gods of Carthage had deserted her. Possibly, it was time to do something about Zarabel, as Queen Teuta urged constantly.
"Princess, this is no more than a setback," Echaz said, wringing his hands. "Who could have foretold that General Mastanabal would prove so capable, or that all the Roman legions are not as formidable as those we saw here?"
"How, indeed," she said bitterly, glaring at the eunuch. "Or that Hamilcar would strike from the north before even setting sail with his main army? Has my brother suddenly grown crafty? I doubt it." With a hiss, she threw herself upon her couch. Slaves rushed to fan her.
She shook her head. The priest was useless in this crisis. He could think only in terms of the temples and the city of Carthage itself. He was incapable of thinking on a world scale. This very thought set her mind along another course.
She had let herself be distracted too long by the ancient struggle for power between priest and shofet, between Tanit and Baal-Hammon, between herself and her brother.
New powers were at work now. Rome was back. Parthia threatened to engulf the East. Even Ptolemaic Egypt, sunk in decadence and torpor, was waking under the influence of the strange Roman soldier-savant Scipio and the bizarre Archimedean school of the Museum. It was time for her to take action on a world scale. She must bend some of these powers to her own purposes or go under along with Carthage. Courses of action began to come together in her mind, and it was like waking from a long sleep. She sat up and waved her slaves aside. She leapt from the bed and began pacing back and forth.
"Echaz, call in my scribes. Then send out servants to summon my confidential sea agents. I have letters to deliver over a wide area of the sea, and I want this done quickly."
"At once, Princess!" the priest chirped, overjoyed to see his sovereign and high priestess taking decisive action.