Trying not to show his chagrin as he lay reclined on the couch, Euphemus again reread the price bid proposed by Theosophus. It was a wonder to him that the man had bid so low in project after project and still be profiting handsomely.
He looked across the low table to his best friend Alcibiades and asked, “Do you know if he has a cheap source for his materials?”
A slave girl only recently bought from the agora of Corinth brought out a tray onto the terrace and began to serve them a second round of wine from a clay jug. Alcibiades raised his cup for a filling and said, “I asked about, but none of the merchants are charging him any less than you. In fact, amongst all the architects you are the one with the best price because your credit is sound.”
Euphemus swung down his legs and sat up but gradually bent his back forward as he perused the parchment in front of him, as though the act of considering the puzzle was growing ever more burdensome for his shoulders. “However,” he said, “however, I notice that his buildings tend to be smaller than what was originally commissioned.”
“Some members of the city council made the same conclusion as yourself and demanded that the lengths be measured in their presence. Three of our most honest inspectors and nine council members followed the architect-in-charge as he measured the halls and walls of the bathhouse. They attested that the building has been built as commissioned.”
“Who was the architect?”
“Theosophus’s own nephew, Panaitius.”
Euphemus let out a heavy sigh. The slave girl knelt on his couch and began to knead both his shoulders. He visibly relaxed, “Ah my dear Termisia. You are a gift from the Gods to me.” She smiled and continued massaging his back.
Alcibiades said, “Will you bid against him?”
“This is a difficult decision to make because if I bid too low, I will stand to lose much of my own money.” After a thoughtful silence, he said, “I have another three days before I need to reply to the council, do I not?” His friend nodded. “Then I shall make use of those three days to the full.”
As Alcibiades stood up and vocalized his farewell, Euphemus handed him back the parchment that had been secretly brought to his house. Once the council clerk had been shown out of his house, Euphemus went into the quaint garden in the center of his sprawling house. There he lay on a stone couch covered with linen and watched the drifting of summer clouds through a filter of fluttering olive leaves. Was it even possible to go less than Theosophus’s bid, he wondered. Termisia again entered his consciousness with a goblet of spice wine.
“My dear,” said Euphemus, “What should I do?”
“Master will not find sound advice from someone such as me, who sees and understands not the nature of his business.”
After she again left him to his solitude, he continued to gaze up to the veiled sky. He saw the clouds but he did not understand them. The noontime heat lulled him to a doze. A gust of wind dropped a fat beetle onto his couch. Slowly it crawled towards him, for the scent of fragrant oil mingled with the sweat wallowing under his thick curls was highly pleasant to it. But as the sharp grip of its insect legs dug into his ear lobe, he woke up with a start and flicked it away. It dropped with a plunk into his half-empty wine cup and flailed about the liquid. After some moments, it stopped.
As Euphemus watched the beetle’s struggle with fascination, the words, you understand, but you don’t see, kept going over and over in his mind. Suddenly he stood up and picked up the goblet. He paced the length of the garden twice, then as though having made up his mind, he placed the goblet on a cabinet in his bedroom and left the house.
The agora, he knew, was still bustling at that hour. What was it that Alcibiades said: That the measurements were made by Panaitius? He had never met Panaitius, he had never met Theosophus, but he knew that if he was to go to the Agora, he may find a fellow architect who knew them by sight.
He slowed his pace and steadied his breath on sighting Lysias sitting at his usual bench and conversing with two other men as ancient as himself.
“Greetings, old friend,” Euphemus said, and instantly three pairs of bright intelligent eyes turned to him.
“Why, Euphemus,” Lysias said, “it has been a long time since I last saw you come down to the agora.”
“Well, there has been much business to keep me away from your company,” he said as he sat on one of the vacant seats. “How have you been keeping?”
“Happy and fattened since I retired. But what of you? You seem to be about to go somewhere for one of your businesses.”
“Yes, I fear so. I can only say a quick greeting and be on my way. I have been looking for either Theosophus or his nephew Panaitius, but I cannot find them in this crowd.”
One of the old men chortled. “That comes as no surprise. Both men are short of stature though not slight. You will have trouble finding them in this crowd. I believe they have gone to the perfume merchants. Their togas today are also so white you could be excused for trampling upon them if you mistook their cover for virgin snow.”
“Thank you, Callias. I am most indebted to you. It had not occurred to me to look on the other side.” Euphemus stood up and bid his farewell to the men then wound his way to the northern side of the marketplace. Here the crowd was less rowdy and more sedate. He slowed his steps and looked about for two men of low stature in snow white togas. Soon he found them, standing in front of the largest perfume stall and shaking their heads at jar after jar of fragrances recommended to them.
Euphemus approached and said, “Pardon, sir. Are you Critias the tutor?”
The older man turned with a deep frown. “I am not. It is most obstinate of you to mistake me, the Master Architect Theosophus, for a humble tutor.”
“Forgive me, sir. It is my error.”
Theosophus turned his attention back to the stall merchant, effectively dismissing Euphemus from his consciousness. Euphemus stood behind him and saw that both men were of similar height, and that the top of both their heads only reached the base of his neck. He left them and returned to the house in a rage. The man cheated, Euphemus fumed. He had been measuring long enough in life to realize that his height was equal to his fathom. A physician had also confirmed his suspicions when he concurred that a grown man is a square if he were to stretch his arms out.
Again he paced the garden until the night grew dark. But by the time the first hint of dawn warmed the sky, Euphemus had made up his mind to play the same game. He calculated that his fathom was about 1/5 more than Panaitius’s, so if he were to use the same fathom to calculate his cost then he could easily reduce his materials by 17 parts of a 100.
Note: Assuming that;
Euphemus = 6 feet and Theosophus = 5 feet
6/5 = 1 1/5 (20% more)
However if Euphemus were to take out the total 20%, his costing will be wrong. So he must reduce his current 6 feet to 5 feet and this is done by dividing 5 by 6.
5/6 which is 83.333%, leading us to
100% - 83% = 17%
He recalculated the bid he had planned to propose and found that he could outbid Theosophus. Then he ordered a servant to ask three of his shortest apprentices to come to his presence. When they arrived, he made them stand in a row on the terrace as he paced up and down in front of them.
“Men, I have asked you to come because I wish to inform you that I am very pleased with your handiwork. Because of that, I have come to the decision to relinquish some of my duties. I am expecting more work to come my way, so I have decided to appoint one of you as my assistant.” He looked down the line of flushing faces and expectant eyes.
He began pacing again then stopped in front of one man who was exactly tall enough to reach the height of the base of his neck. “Boethus,” he said as he placed a hand on his shoulder, “Congratulations, I am making you my most senior assistant.”
The joy on that man’s face was beyond description. That night, Euphemus made him put down his name on the bid for the construction of the House of Learning.
Euphemus won the contract and two years later, when the project was completed, Theosophus stared at the building but he could say nothing to protest about the size of it. After some years, tall architects eventually realized that there was no work open for them in the city, so they migrated to the colonies.
All that time, the beetle that had startled Euphemus out of his nap was placed on an altar in the master bedroom where it was worshiped by the man daily. To keep that voice of wisdom perpetually, Euphemus had it encased in gold.
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