“You are devout to the Greek gods then?” He looked from the amulet into Archimedes’ eyes, then yanked down the owl and snapped the leather cord from Archimedes’ neck. “I will add worshiping false Greek gods in front of the temple to your list of offenses.” He pointed to the sheet of papyrus and the scribe quickly scribbled. “What brings you to Alexandria, cart builder?” He let the amulet drop in the dust beneath his feet. “Did you run out of wagons to fix in Greece?”
That was enough for Archimedes. “Athena is not a false goddess. Alexander the Great often prayed for her counsel when he was busy freeing Egypt from the oppressive rule of Persian tyrants. Myself, I was invited to attend the School of Alexandria.” Archimedes breathed deeply to keep his composure before a final jab.
“ Fixing poorly-made Egyptian wagons,” Archimedes indicated the cart, “or building magnificent Greek-designed structures,” he looked toward the lighthouse, “are the gifts Athena bestowed on me.” He heard a barely audible groan from Ankhef that was quickly drowned out by a snarl from the priest.
Ptahhotep’s hand with the silver falcon flew up and across Archimedes’ face with a smack. The falcon’s beak gouged Archimedes’ cheek. He quickly put his hand on his bleeding cheek as tears formed in his eyes.
“ Guards, take this whelp and let a whip teach him to respect Egyptian gods!” Ptahhotep barked. “Then leave his carcass for the crows.”
Just then a glint of metal from the shadowed entrance of the temple caused the scribe to immediately extend his arms to either side, stopping the advancing guards. Ptahhotep looked at the scribe, who looked toward the dark of the temple. Ptahhotep followed the scribe’s gaze, and then scrutinized the shadows for several moments. Ptahhotep turned back toward the scribe with a quizzical look.
“ Perhaps we should take the outlaw to the school first and let them know he will be punished. There are too many snooping loafers gathered for the boy to go missing,” the scribe shrewdly advised.
Archimedes was also inspecting the mysterious movement while gently touching his bleeding cheek. For a moment, the shape moved from the shadows into the light, where the sun glinted off blonde hair and a silver breast plate before the silhouette quickly ducked into the temple.
Ptahhotep grabbed Archimedes’ chin and forcibly turned his face toward him. “Perhaps your tongue is capable of telling the truth. It can certainly spit out heresy.” He looked over to the scribe. “Ipuwer, take the guards and escort this schoolboy to the school and see if he is telling the truth. My time is better spent tending the great gods than bantering about with ill-bred urchins.”
Before striding back to the temple, Ptahhotep met with Ipuwer, who pointed toward the concealed entrance to the temple. Ptahhotep scowled, turned on his heel, and strode back to the temple. The crowd parted and began to disperse.
Ankhef got up out of the dirt of the street. While warily watching the scribe and guards, he whispered to Archimedes, “You don’t know how lucky you are. That was Ptahhotep,” he emphasized the name.“He is the hem netjer, the high priest of the temple. He could have you killed and no one would question him. You are clever, but a fox does not quarrel with a crocodile. He is not some cart you can hammer on.”
Archimedes touched his cheek again and looked at his fingers, sticky with blood. He reached down and picked up the wooden owl. The four guards formed a square around Archimedes and, with the scribe Ipuwer leading the way, ushered him to the School of Alexandria.
Chapter 9
Archimedes remembered back in Syracuse when he widened the small hole at the bottom of his teacher’s water clock. The water dripped out inconspicuously quicker, letting the boys get out of class early. It took the old teacher a week before he discovered it and when he did he took a
That was enough for Archimedes. “Athena is not a false goddess. Alexander the Great often prayed for her counsel when he was busy freeing Egypt from the oppressive rule of Persian tyrants. Myself, I was invited to attend the School of Alexandria.” Archimedes breathed deeply to keep his composure before a final jab.
“ Fixing poorly-made Egyptian wagons,” Archimedes indicated the cart, “or building magnificent Greek-designed structures,” he looked toward the lighthouse, “are the gifts Athena bestowed on me.” He heard a barely audible groan from Ankhef that was quickly drowned out by a snarl from the priest.
Ptahhotep’s hand with the silver falcon flew up and across Archimedes’ face with a smack. The falcon’s beak gouged Archimedes’ cheek. He quickly put his hand on his bleeding cheek as tears formed in his eyes.
“ Guards, take this whelp and let a whip teach him to respect Egyptian gods!” Ptahhotep barked. “Then leave his carcass for the crows.”
Just then a glint of metal from the shadowed entrance of the temple caused the scribe to immediately extend his arms to either side, stopping the advancing guards. Ptahhotep looked at the scribe, who looked toward the dark of the temple. Ptahhotep followed the scribe’s gaze, and then scrutinized the shadows for several moments. Ptahhotep turned back toward the scribe with a quizzical look.
“ Perhaps we should take the outlaw to the school first and let them know he will be punished. There are too many snooping loafers gathered for the boy to go missing,” the scribe shrewdly advised.
Archimedes was also inspecting the mysterious movement while gently touching his bleeding cheek. For a moment, the shape moved from the shadows into the light, where the sun glinted off blonde hair and a silver breast plate before the silhouette quickly ducked into the temple.
Ptahhotep grabbed Archimedes’ chin and forcibly turned his face toward him. “Perhaps your tongue is capable of telling the truth. It can certainly spit out heresy.” He looked over to the scribe. “Ipuwer, take the guards and escort this schoolboy to the school and see if he is telling the truth. My time is better spent tending the great gods than bantering about with ill-bred urchins.”
Before striding back to the temple, Ptahhotep met with Ipuwer, who pointed toward the concealed entrance to the temple. Ptahhotep scowled, turned on his heel, and strode back to the temple. The crowd parted and began to disperse.
Ankhef got up out of the dirt of the street. While warily watching the scribe and guards, he whispered to Archimedes, “You don’t know how lucky you are. That was Ptahhotep,” he emphasized the name.“He is the hem netjer, the high priest of the temple. He could have you killed and no one would question him. You are clever, but a fox does not quarrel with a crocodile. He is not some cart you can hammer on.”
Archimedes touched his cheek again and looked at his fingers, sticky with blood. He reached down and picked up the wooden owl. The four guards formed a square around Archimedes and, with the scribe Ipuwer leading the way, ushered him to the School of Alexandria.
Chapter 9
Archimedes remembered back in Syracuse when he widened the small hole at the bottom of his teacher’s water clock. The water dripped out inconspicuously quicker, letting the boys get out of class early. It took the old teacher a week before he discovered it and when he did he took a
Similar Books
The Boy in the Field
Jo Oram
Moments (Breath of Life Book 3)
Sara Marion
Kissing Mr. Right
Michelle Major
Wife Wanted in Dry Creek
Janet Tronstad
Strict Consequences
Morticia Knight
Little Brats: Eva: Forbidden Taboo Erotica
Selena Kitt
The Burglar on the Prowl
Lawrence Block
The War Zone
Alexander Stuart
The Time of Her Life
Jeanie London
Brenda Hiatt
A Christmas Bride