Volume 5: The Hegemon of Southern Italy, Chapter 46: Dionia School (Part 1)

Matikoris was completely obsessed with mathematics and ignored worldly affairs. Mentotikels, on the other hand, was different. He did not mind spending time handling various matters, and mathematics gave him a meticulous mind that allowed him to manage the Academy, arrange personnel, and formulate plans with considerable ease. That was why Davos had appointed him as the head of the Academy. Matikoris heartily agreed with this.

"I'll think about it," Mentotikels replied cautiously.

"I've figured out the principle of this catapult!" Matikoris, now excited, came before Davos. Pointing at the blueprint, he spoke loudly and eagerly: "Look here! Look here! The most important parts of this catapult are two things: one is the cord made of strong animal sinew, and the other is the pulley that can pull the cord with less effort. Also, you see, the longer the slide trough, the farther the range, because the cord will be pulled as far as possible, and then its rebound will give the stone greater force... I think the Syracusans are stupid. They only used one pulley—too simple, and it requires a lot of effort to operate. Actually, if we make a set of pulleys and fix them at the rear end of the slide trough, we can easily pull the cord all the way to the end. Give me the best carpenters and materials, and I'll soon make a catapult better than theirs!"

Matikoris's confident expression satisfied Davos. He chuckled: "I just mentioned to Mentotikels that I will have the weapon engineers from the Army Corps Engineering Camp serve as your assistants at the Mathematical Academy. And Daonia boasts the best cattle in the entire western Mediterranean—Lucanian cattle—which can provide you with a steady supply of high-quality ox sinew at any time."

"Excellent!" Matikoris said and, clutching the blueprint, started walking out.

"Matikoris, I have an idea," Davos quickly called him back. "If we could know the landing point of the stone relatively accurately before the catapult shoots it, that would be very helpful for the operator to hit the target precisely."

"Uh..." Faced with Davos's suggestion, Matikoris and Mentotikels did not see it as an extra burden; on the contrary, they fell into thought.

"I have another idea," Davos said seriously. "I think that no matter how much force we exert or at what angle we throw an object, the trajectory of the object in the air should be like this—" Davos extended his finger and traced different arcs in the air.

Matikoris and Mentotikels stared intently at Davos's moving finger, lost in thought.

"If there is no wind and the ground is perfectly level, with the highest point of the object's trajectory in the air as the center, the two sides of the trajectory should overlap if folded..." Davos spoke calmly.

The two men, however, were as if struck by lightning. Their expressions suddenly became extremely agitated.

"Mag... Magistrate, is this... is this another revelation from Hades?!" Mentotikels stammered. Similar situations had occurred several times before: when Davos discussed matters with them, he would occasionally come up with novel ideas that, upon later verification, proved correct. Each time, this led to breakthroughs in their mathematical research and greatly expanded their knowledge.

"You could say that," Davos said with a mysterious smile.

"Come! Come! Draw the trajectory for me right now, carefully!" Matikoris grabbed Davos's hand excitedly and began to pull him outside without further ado.

Davos understood his intention. The living room floor was marble, so they could only draw on the dirt in the courtyard. Therefore, not minding, he followed Matikoris out of the living room.

...

"Mother, come quick! Look what Father is doing with those people in the garden—he's trampling your flowers!" At the window of the second-floor bedroom, Cynthia pointed at Davos and the other two in the courtyard and shouted loudly.

"Shh!" Christhoya made a silencing gesture and whispered, "Don't wake your little brother!"

She went to the window, leaned out to look below, and frowned slightly. Then she turned back with a smile. "It's nothing. Your father and a couple of uncles are discussing math problems." Although Christhoya loved flowers, she was a sensible woman and would never embarrass her husband in public.

"What is math?" Adoris, who was nearby, asked curiously.

"It's a very interesting subject. Your sister will start learning it soon," Cheiristoya said softly with a smile.

"Can I go to school too?" Adoris asked hopefully.

"Of course you can," Cheiristoya said, gently stroking his head. "But you're still young. You'll have to wait another year."

"I don't want to wait! I want to go to school with my sister now!" Adoris protested.

"Little brother, stop fussing! Listen to Mother, or else tonight I won't let Father tell you a story!" At these words, Adoris, though pouting, quieted down.

"Mother, is it really okay for me to go to school and study together with the other boys?" Cynthia said hesitantly to Cheiristoya. Cynthia was now seven years old. According to Greek tradition, a girl could marry at sixteen, and she already knew quite a bit. From a young age, her biological mother had set an example by teaching her how to be a proper Greek housewife. In her memory, her mother had never stepped outside the house. Now, however, she would have to go out in public day after day, year after year, to study alongside many boys—this made her uneasy.

Cheiristoya pulled Cynthia in front of her and, while combing her slightly disheveled long hair, said gently: "Child, do you know how lucky you are! Except in Daonia, girls like you in other Greek city-states spend most of their lives confined to their houses, busy raising children and managing household chores. They don't know what the outside world looks like, have never watched a sports competition, never seen a play, and have never even laid eyes on the sea. Do you want your future life to be like theirs?!"

Cynthia showed a frightened expression and shook her head vigorously.

Cheiristoya continued with emotion: "Your father is a great man! He went to great lengths to persuade the Senate so that you girls could have the same opportunity to learn as boys. When the time comes, not only you but also girls from other citizen families will go to school. Cynthia, you won't be lonely at school. Study hard and prove that we women are no worse than men. Don't let your father's efforts go to waste!"

Cynthia nodded, half understanding.

In fact, although the newly risen Daonia Alliance had somewhat different social customs from other Greek city-states and was relatively open toward women, Davos's proposal in the Senate to "let girls attend school alongside boys" had still met with opposition from many senators.

Davos had managed to persuade them, and one part of his speech stirred resonance in everyone: "...Let the daughters of Daonia citizens enter schools to learn. Let them acquire more knowledge and skills, learn how to get along harmoniously with boys. Knowledge will make them more cultivated, more graceful, and wiser. After they grow up and marry, they will have more common topics and interests with their husbands, thus reducing the possibility of husbands going out to brothels for amusement and ensuring the stability of the family. Let them manage household affairs more wisely and not be deceived by cunning slaves. Let them raise their children better, so that future Daonia citizens can develop good habits from early childhood—this is crucial for their entire lives!..."

In this era, due to the lack of electric lights, once it got dark, aside from a few wealthy people who used candles for light to continue working, most people went to bed. Because they slept early, they woke up early. Usually, after the rooster crowed, people would start getting up and moving about. But for the industrious Daonians, most rose even earlier—often when it was still dark and the stars were still twinkling in the night sky—to prepare for the day's labor after sunrise. Only children disliked getting up early and had to be urged by their parents to start washing up.

However, today thirteen-year-old Patroclus got up very early. He hurriedly washed up and then helped his mother bake bread. His mother was very gratified: her usually mischievous son had truly grown up after the invasion of Croton.

At the breakfast table, his mother asked again with concern: "Klos, are you sure you don't want me to take you to scho... school?"

Patroclus shook his head like a rattle-drum. "No! When those bad guys from Croton came, I even went alone to deliver the warning to the nearby villages! Uncle Agilas praised me as a brave man. I'm already this big, and the school is right in the city. If I still need you to take me, how embarrassing would that be!"

"But—" His mother, looking slightly worried, was about to speak when Patroclus's father, Pariandolos, interrupted: "Let him go alone!"

Pariandolos looked sternly at Patroclus. "When you get to school, listen to the teacher. Do whatever you're told. If you don't behave, I'll give you a beating!" The illiterate father naturally hoped his son could write and calculate, and have a better future, but being coarse, he couldn't say anything more encouraging. He could only scare the child with his usual tone. And Patroclus, who often talked back, today answered obediently: "Yes, Dad!"

Just as Pariandolos was feeling surprised, there was a knock at the door. "Who is it?"

"It's me."

"It's Uncle Agilas!" Patroclus cheered and immediately went to open the door.

"Little Klos, you should be going to school today, right?" Agilas said with a chuckle as he entered, ruffling his head. "I've brought you a satchel, a stylus, a few wax tablets, and a folding wooden stool. You'll find them useful for school."

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