The Lion's Slave by Terry Deary

C HAPTER O NE
    “You are stupid, Lydia, stupid,” Archimedes told me. “I don’t know why I hired you. You must be a very cheap servant.”

    “I am more than cheap, you don’t pay me anything at all,” I reminded him.

    “Then how do you live?”
    “I eat a little of the food I cook for you and I sleep on a straw bed in an attic room.”
    “Huh!” he grumbled. “Then I still pay you too much.”
    “Yes, sir,” I said.
    And on that day, the Romans arrived to attack us. Their ships lay in the cool, blue sea off the shore of Syracuse. Soldiers stood on the decks, but didn’t dare to land just yet. Our soldiers on the walls would have shot them with their arrows.

    “Will the Romans kill us when they land, sir?” I asked.
    “Stupid child,” Archimides said. “You, Lydia, are a young and healthy girl. They will not kill you. You are not worth it. They will take you away and make you a slave. But then you will not have a kind master like me, will you?”
    “No, sir,” I said.

    Archimedes’ house stood on the top of a hill.We could look over the garden walls and down over the city walls to see the Roman fleet shimmering in the heat. The sun beat down on us and I wished I could swim in that cool, blue sea.

    “I would like to smash those ships,” Archimedes said.
    “You could throw rocks at them,” I suggested.
    He looked at me and mopped his bald, sweating head with a cloth. “Stupid girl,” he said.

    “Can you do something about them?” I asked.
    “Perhaps I could … I could invent something,” he said.
    I clapped my hands and jumped on the dry, brown grass. “That would be marvellous, sir. You are a wonderful inventor. You invented a way to raise water out of a river and into the fields.”

    “Yes,” he nodded. “They call it Archimedes’ screw.”
    “I’m sure you could invent a machine to fire big rocks at those ships,” I said.
    My master shook his head. “Find me a rock and I’ll show you why it’s not possible.”

    There were no rocks in the garden because I kept it weeded and full of flowers. But there were some large ones in the field outside the garden wall.

    “I’ll get one from the field,” I said.
    Archimedes threw up his hands. “Silly child. Those stones are too large for you to carry.”
    “Then I’ll throw one over the wall,” I offered.
    “If you can’t pick it up, you can’t throw it!” He roared his lion roar.
    “Oh, throwing it is easier!” I laughed. Then I picked up the plank of wood that my master used as a garden seat, tucked it under my arm and walked out into the field.

    I placed the plank on a round stone and let one end drop onto the ground.
    I rolled a large rock onto that end. Then I jumped onto the other end.

    The rock shot up into the air.
    I remember it to this day.
    I remember the way my master Archimedes screamed…

C HAPTER T WO
    The rock soared into the cloudless sky, looped over the wall and headed down into the garden. At least it would have headed into the garden if my master hadn’t been standing there. Instead, it sort of headed for his head.

    Handsome young Ajax, who lives in the main street, has fine hair that is parted in the middle. My master doesn’t have hair on his head. If he had , the rock would have parted it. Instead, it almost parted his head–and then all those fine brains would have spilled out onto the dusty grass and spoiled my fine flowers.

    But Archimedes ducked and scrambled out of the way and the rock landed with a thump on the grass.
    “Oooops!” I said with a silly grin. “Sorry, sir!”
    He didn’t call me stupid–he was spluttering and moaning too much to call me anything. I brought the plank back into the garden, made it into a seat again and sat him down.

    “You … you…” he began.

    “I know,” I said. “I’m foolish.”
    He shook his head. “You … you … could … have…”

    “I could have fired a bigger rock and you would have seen it better,” I nodded.
    He shook his