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    Again, the Lord of Syracuse gathered the people in the square and told them how great my master was. He paid Archimedes a fortune.

    It was strange that his great mind took simple ideas and made them work as weapons of war. Simple games that I used to play as a child. I was too stupid to see how they could help us win the war. But I felt I was sharing in my master’s work.
    One day, I made a fire using a mirror that bent the sun’s rays into a beam of scorching light.

    Archimedes watched me and went off muttering.
    The next day, my master had built a huge metal mirror that sent a red ray of fire onto the Roman fleet and set their ships alight.

    The Lord of Syracuse heaped more treasures on my master. I was so proud of him! I suppose, in a way, that is how I killed him.Well, I didn’t take his life myself . But I was to blame. I was stupid.
    You see, the Romans landed in the end. They ran through the town, slaying and avenging.

    Finally, they reached our house at the top of the hill. My master was in the garden, planning something new. He was drawing circles in the dust with a stick.
    A Roman soldier came up to the gate. “Who lives here?” he asked.

    “My master Archimedes, the Lion of Syracuse,” I said proudly. And showed him through the garden to where my master was scratching away.

    The soldier sighed. “We’ve heard about him. General Marcellus said he is not to be harmed.”
    “Ah!” I said. “That’s nice. Especially after all he did to you!”
    The soldier went stiff. “Did? What do you mean, did ? He does science and maths and stuff. Harmless, isn’t he?”
    “Ha! That’s good,” I laughed. “The great Archimedes invented the catapult that sank your ships.”
    “My friend died on one of those ships,” the soldier growled and pulled his sword free of its sheath.

    “Then he invented Archimedes’ claw that wrecked more of your ships,” I giggled.
    “My brother died on one of those ships,” the soldier fumed and raised his sword above his head.

    “And of course he invented the burning mirror that scorched the rest,” I finished.
    “I was burned on the arm by that!” the soldier roared. He stepped towards my master. “Archimedes–villain–come with me!”

    My master waved him away with a hand. When he was thinking his great thoughts, no one else mattered. Then he said his famous last words: “Don’t disturb my circles”.
    They were his last words because the soldier brought down his sword with the fury of a madman. He spilt my master’s mighty brains over those circles in the dust.

E PILOGUE
    I know. I am stupid. I should not have told an angry soldier that Archimedes had invented the killing machines. I should have said, “ I showed my master how the catapult worked. My fishing rod gave him the idea for the claw. And my mirror showed him how to make a deadly sunbeam.”

    But the soldier wouldn’t believe a stupid girl could do something like that. Or, here’s a chilling thought–maybe he would have blamed me. Then he would have killed me! Maybe being stupid saved my life!

    So that is the story of how the Lion of Syracuse died. But what happened to the lion’s slave? What happened to me?
    You won’t be surprised to hear that my master was right–I became a Roman slave. But it’s not such a bad life. My new master is kind. In fact, he’s far kinder to me than old Archimedes and he never calls me stupid!

    I only wish my master had shared some of his riches with me before he died. The Lord of Syracuse gave him a fortune for his clever machines. I got nothing–though sometimes I think I helped create those inventions.

    Still, as Aesop said, “You may share the work of the great, but you will not share the rewards.”
    And here’s another thought: master Archimedes’ reward was a sword in the head. So maybe I can’t complain too much.
    It was such a pity though. All those fine lion brains that spilled out onto the dusty grass. His circles were disturbed …