Throughout history, humankind has built temples where their beliefs would be reflected and they could worship a higher being. Many times, they began from nothing, creating wonders that blended in perfect harmony with the natural world. On other occasions, they demolished or transformed already existing monuments, hiding the secrets those once sacred sites guarded.
*
198 B.C. Syracuse, Sicily.
The scars inflicted by the Romans during the siege were still visible in the city. Now Syracuse formed part of an expanding empire, one drenched in the blood of its subjects. The temples that crowned the plazas where the people of Syracuse met for countless years to set up their markets, discuss politics and gather together as a society had been reduced to rubble. The great Archimedes, defender of his birthplace with his ingenious machines and all his knowledge, was dead. Over the course of those first years as a conquered city, the people of Syracuse, lacking all ambition and hope, lived their daily lives ashamed at having lost the splendor the city claimed as its own in bygone times.
Until the wheat changed everything.
The Roman Empire was growing by leaps and bounds and the recently concluded Second Punic War ended up emptying the public treasury along with the granaries needed to feed the people. Trade flourished and the captured booty changed hands, reactivating the flow of Roman coins, sparking rekindled ambitions to create riches, the desire for other goods —luxurious and extravagant— and hunger among the poor. But the wheat fields surrounding the city were regaining their productive capacity much too slowly. That could be attributed in large part to the fact the men of Syracuse felt defeated and lacked motivation. To counter that pervasive feeling, money was dispatched from Rome, watched over by a special envoy, for building a new temple in the city. The purpose was to bring back some part of the city's old splendor and motivate the people by making them understand that they, too, were now part of the empire that was enlightening the world.
Flavius Aurelius was appointed to find the perfect person for undertaking the project. After pondering his decision for many days, rejecting countless candidates of great reputation and renown, and understanding that he needed a symbol as much as someone highly qualified, he decided on one of the great teacher Archimedes' followers, Apollonius of Perga.
"It is a pleasure to have you in my home," said Flavius Aurelius, opening his arms wide to embrace his recently arrived guest.
"I am grateful for your invitation, it is an honor," Apollonius lied. He was still harboring resentment against the conquerors who killed his teacher.
Flavius, an astute man very experienced in dealing with senators, generals and other types of practiced liars, immediately sensed that Apollonius felt ill at ease. It was hardly surprising. He knew that one of his chief challenges, perhaps the most difficult one of all, was to seduce the brilliant mathematician with the vision of a promising future for the city of Syracuse. If he succeeded, then Apollonius would also be responsible for conveying those high hopes and vision to his compatriots and neighbors, to inspire them about the work that would come to represent the city.
"Please call me Flavius. I do not want you to feel uncomfortable, anything but that. I only want to earn your friendship," he said, choosing to be honest in the hope of breaking down any preconceived notions and expectations. "Do not look at me that way. If I was in your place, I would not even have forced a smile. The truth is that if I was to tell you that I understand you, I would be lying but I do know one thing that is true. There have been many occasions when I have sat and observed negotiations between the victors and vanquished. I agree that it is inevitable to acknowledge the sense of superiority shown by the winners in comparison with the feeling of shame mixed with impotence of men who are upset at being forced to pay homage to their enemy. It may be possible to mask your true feelings by acting pleasant, friendly and even servile towards the others, but the truth is they would not hesitate to kill you if they had a sword at hand."
Flavius took a seat and motioned for Apollonius to follow his lead.
"I am almost certain that you would do the same," Flavio continued as a slave served them wine in two silver goblets. "Of course, you would not kill me with a lowly dagger or a common knife. I imagine a much more creative revenge, like strangling me between pulleys that are tangled up in the interior of some device full of gears. Ahh, now that is what I would call a suitably 'complex death'.”
"I am not going to kill anyone," Apollonius assured him.
"I know," Flavio agreed before standing up.
Holding the cup in his hand, the manipulative Roman emissary moved away from the table towards a balcony with a view overlooking a large part of the city. Nearly transparent curtains of white linen that looked like peace flags swayed in the breeze, while a stick of incense burned slowly in a nearby corner.
"Come over here, my dear new friend," said Flavius with a smile. "Because although you do not know it, we are friends. You will understand soon enough."
"If you say so," Apollonius responded apathetically.
"That is better. That is the way I like it, that you use the familiar form to talk to me and you are sincere with me."
A snap of the fingers, and the slave appeared again bearing more wine.
"Fill up the cups, Moretia, we are celebrating here," he announced, ready to offer a toast. "To new friends."
"To new friends," Apollonius repeated, growing increasingly confused.
What he saw from the balcony was not pleasant for him. Many houses still bore witness to the ravages of war. Their walls, tinged with black streaks from the flames, resembled sad paintings lacking any kind of expression or life. That burned smell came along with them. Yes, several years had gone by since the siege but reminders of the war continued to remain open wounds throughout the city. Unfortunately, poverty combined with scarce resources were turning the once glorious city of Syracuse into a human dumping ground, in a place where it would serve as an example for all the other opponents of almighty, all-powerful Rome. But the insatiable hunger of the imperial capital needed it, or more to the point, needed its fertile unplowed fields.
"My desire is for the city to regain its old splendor," Flavio remarked as he gazed at the sky. "And I want you to be the one who takes the first step. With me. Together."
"What are you talking about?" asked Apollonius, intrigued now.
"I am referring to raising the morale, of rejuvenating the spirit of the city," he said, pointing with his finger. "We have the obligation of inviting the gods to come and live among us again. We must build them a temple where we can nourish them with our prayers so that they can bless us with happiness and abundance."
Apollonius was enthused now, listening with growing excitement as he visualized in his mind what Flavio was proposing to him.
"Do you know what I see?" the Roman envoy asked.
"What do you see?"
"I see a temple worthy of Syracuse. I see a site where you walk in but there are no walls, where you are covered but you can always see outside, where the gods are closer to us than anywhere else."
The curtains swayed again from the gentle breeze while that vision materialized before the eyes of the young mathematician.
"Now I see it myself," whispered Apollonius as his mind drifted, lost in his own thoughts
*
Thirty thousand laborers worked over 3,640 days from sunrise to sunset and only on days when the sun crowned the sky, never in the dark. The other days were not suitable for taking the necessary measurements. The massive stone blocks, bonded together by a blend of volcanic sulfur brought from Vesuvius and crystal formations extracted from the deepest depths of the Sea of Corsica, formed open columns that curved towards the walls to support the tremendous weight of the cupola without closing the interior space. The picture windows, rising up like spires to prick the heart of the sun and extract its luminous energy, were adorned with azure stained glass windows, pearls from Majorca and different combinations of crystals, placed with a meticulous attention to detail by Apollonius himself. Nothing was left to chance.
Every detail was measured over two hundred times. Every meter was checked more than fifty times. Every curve, every corner, every single inch of the structure was reviewed by the grand master himself. At the end of each day, just before the sun disappeared on the horizon, he sent the laborers home and examined the secrets of the temple to ensure that not a single oversight would ruin his masterpiece. His legacy. The awakening of Syracuse.