Even as they spoke, the yard lowered and the blue sail with its hippocampus was furled. Long sweeps, three to a side, were run out and the ship was laboriously rowed up to a stone pier.
"Scipio," Norbanus said, shaking his head. "Does he think he can impress me with another of his playthings? If so, he should have sent one of those flying men I hear he has. Now that would impress me." His officers chuckled. Nobody knew whether they should believe the stories coming out of Alexandria.
Norbanus studied the angle of the sun. "It's late," he announced. "There won't be any fighting today. If that boat carries anyone of importance, send them to my tent."
Later, he was sitting at dinner with his officers when two men were ushered in. They were Greeks with the look of scholars, but they carried a number of document cases that bore Roman markings. They bowed before the general and introduced themselves.
"Zeno and Izates?" Norbanus said. "I've heard of you. Some sort of philosopher-historians with a roving commission from the Senate as messengers and envoys, aren't you?"
"That is roughly the situation," said the handsomer of the two. I can't claim that we have any official status, but we've been enjoying the duties immensely."
"Spoken like a true Greek," Norbanus said. "Have a seat and join us for dinner while I look over what you've brought us." The first document to come beneath his eye was from Marcus Scipio. This one he set aside for later, so as not to ruin his appetite. Others were from the Senate and from contacts in Rome and on Sicily. The little ship had stopped at Syracuse and Ostia on its way to him. These he perused with interest. His father was now at Lilybaeum, amassing his army. The city was the westernmost point of the island, just a short hop across the strait from Carthage—always assuming that the Carthaginian fleet would not interfere with the hop.
The elder Norbanus informed his son that there had been great anger and bitterness when he arrived to take over command. Scaeva and his principal officers were outraged that, after securing Sicily for Rome, they were to be shunted aside in favor of a proconsul just sent out from Rome with his own clique of senior officers. The old family officers, headed by the Cornelia Scipiones, were his enemies to a man. Had they not been Romans, he wrote, and sticklers for subordination to Senate orders, there would have been mutiny.
The legionaries grumbled a bit but there had been no serious insubordination. With the huge expansion of the legions, the bulk of them were new family men, most of them just a generation or two removed from their Gallic and German tribal origins. They might admire the officers who had led them to victory, but they resented the aristocratic airs of too many of them to allow a takeover by a Norbanus to upset them.
The Senate communications he scanned briefly and set aside. A pack of fretting old women, he thought, afraid now because they've just realized that practically every Roman soldier is away from.Italy. They were sending him several cohorts of the newly raised auxiliary forces, mostly Italian natives and many of them freshly retired from their vocation as bandits. He looked forward to trying them out. They might prove useful and would certainly be expendable. Highly trained Roman legionaries were never expendable.
"One other thing we've brought you," said the Greek named Zeno. "It's a gift from Quee—that is, the Princess Regent Selene." He produced a beautiful wooden box inlaid with shell and ivory. It was about a cubit long. He slipped its delicate latch and opened the lid. Inside was what looked like a tube of dark wood, both ends ringed with bronze chased with a Greek key fret. From one end protruded a circle of ivory shaped like a shallow cup.
"What is it?" Norbanus asked, intrigued despite himself. The thing looked valuable.
"Another product of the Archimedean school." Zeno took the thing from the box. First he showed Norbanus and the others the end lacking the ivory finial. It was covered with a cap of thin bronze, which he removed, displaying a large piece of glass that seemed to be slightly convex. Then he reversed it and showed the ivory end. In its center was a much smaller piece of glass. He grasped the ivory circle and tugged at it. A tube of bronze slid from inside the wooden cylinder.
"This is a device for making distant objects seem nearer. You gaze through the small lens in the ivory eyepiece"—he put the thing to his own eye—"and you aim the larger lens toward the object you wish to examine." He turned and pointed the instrument toward the tent entrance, which faced the landward gate of Massilia. "If the object appears fuzzy, you adjust the length of the instrument until it becomes clear." He showed how minute adjustments could be made to the sliding tube. He handed it to Norbanus. The general put the ivory piece to his eye and aimed the thing toward the gate.