Killing Pythagoras (Mediterranean Prize Winner 2015) (31 page)

CHAPTER 64

June 10
th
, 510 B.C.

Glaucus fixed his febrile eyes on Akenon.

It was your fault I lost Yaco
.

His first impulse when he saw the Egyptian investigator was to call Boreas, but the next moment mathematics eclipsed everything else in his mind again. He turned to the wall and continued what he had been doing.

“Glaucus,” Akenon called him.

The Sybarite nodded slightly, as if hearing a distant call, and kept running his finger over the drawings on the wall at a vertiginous pace. One part of him knew the Egyptian was there, but he was incapable of paying him attention. Akenon’s detective work was of no interest to him. The soldiers from Croton had already bothered him with questions about a hooded man two months ago, and he didn’t intend to spend any more time on that.

“Glaucus,” Ariadne intervened, “I am Ariadne, Pythagoras’ daughter.”

The Sybarite froze. After a few seconds he turned around and looked at her, opening and closing his eyes as if she had just materialized in front of him.

“Pythagoras’ daughter,” he murmured.

“We’ve come to talk about your interest in circles.”

Those words shook Glaucus out of his stupor. He nodded enthusiastically without saying anything. The skin on his face and neck hung like empty sacks. He had lost seventy pounds in the past two months. The weight loss was also noticeable in his frayed, dirty tunic, which seemed to belong to a much more corpulent man.

Ariadne showed him the documents relating to the circle.

“I want you to see this.”

Glaucus grabbed the parchments from Ariadne’s hand, fell to the ground, and spread them out in front of him. He began frenetically moving the torch over them. Ariadne sat next to him, waiting while the Sybarite examined everything, his eyes bulging out of their sockets.

For a long time, no one spoke. Akenon paced the banquet hall nervously, observing with growing unease the madness reflected in every detail of that place. He cast a worried glance toward Ariadne. He would have preferred for her to be in the community, with soldiers all around and Orestes in charge. As he continued pacing the hall, he thought about Orestes. In these past weeks, his admiration for the grand master hadn’t stopped growing.
Orestes will be a good successor to Pythagoras
.

Ariadne watched Glaucus with interest. Every now and then, the Sybarite cast light from the torch over sections he’d already studied. When he reached the end of the last parchment, he closed his hand around it and crushed it.

Ariadne was startled. Glaucus turned and looked at her with bloodshot eyes. He shook the fist holding the crumpled parchment and roared furiously,

“What the devil is this garbage?!”

CHAPTER 65

June 10
th
, 510 B.C.

Cylon’s memory of Ariadne was from sixteen years before.

He had been returning from a Council session when he crossed paths with a group of Pythagoreans. He watched them with contempt and was about to continue on his way when something held him back. Walking with the Pythagoreans was a very young teenage girl, attractively curvaceous, who combined the sweet innocence of her age with a lively, self-assured demeanor. She could only be Pythagoras’ daughter.

Little Ariadne
, thought Cylon, unable to take his eyes off her. It was four or five years since he’d seen her and then she had still been a child. She hadn’t yet blossomed into the magnificent woman who now stood before him.

He returned home, his mind flooded with thoughts of her. His interest was not just carnal—that made no sense, given the circumstances—but lay in the fact that she was Pythagoras’ older daughter and, therefore, presented an excellent means for hurting the philosopher.

Cylon spent several weeks gathering information on her, the people who surrounded her, how often she left the compound… When he had amassed enough data, he thought up a plan and met with some hoplites who had become used to receiving higher remuneration from him than from soldiering.

“This time I have an extremely pleasant job for you. Have you seen Ariadne lately, Pythagoras’ daughter?”

“By Ares, we have!” one of them immediately exclaimed, licking his lips.

“Well, well, I’m happy to see so much enthusiasm. That way you’ll make sure everything goes according to plan, because I want you to kidnap her tomorrow.”

He explained his scheme to them. They’d kidnap her on the outskirts of Croton, taking advantage of the fact that she would only have two companions whom they could easily put out of action. Next, they would take her to a good hideout and keep her there for three days, until he arrived to mete out the punishment she deserved. Then they would dispose of the body.

The plan was a solid one, but it didn’t take into account that Pythagoras would manage in just a few hours to put hundreds of soldiers and mercenaries to work on his daughter’s kidnapping.
Damn it, where did he find so many men?
They set up tight surveillance on all the roads, to such an extreme that it was impossible for him to get a message to his hired thugs, much less go there in person to deal with Ariadne. If he didn’t act quickly, he would run the risk of his men getting nervous and doing something stupid. And if they were caught, he had no doubt they’d give him away immediately.

He had to make the only logical decision.

He called another group of hired hoplites to him. Their instructions were to guide the patrols they were part of to Ariadne’s hiding place. Naturally, they were to finish off the kidnappers before they had a chance to open their mouths.

At least that plan worked perfectly
. However thoroughly Pythagoras investigated afterwards, he never found a shred of evidence to link Cylon to the kidnapping. The only traces left of that episode were in his own head. Over the years, the frustration of feeling he had been cheated turned into an obsession with Ariadne. Ever since that incident, he had selected slave girls for his bedchamber who resembled her. There had been some with a striking resemblance, but the best one was the one who now had her head buried between his legs.

Satisfied, he contemplated the gentle sway of her chestnut hair and then closed his eyes. If his dream of becoming the political head of Croton ever came true, he wouldn’t limit himself, as many expected, to ousting the Pythagoreans. He’d raze the community to the ground, execute its members, and enslave Ariadne so it would be she, finally, who pleasured him every night.

CHAPTER 66

June 10
th
, 510 B.C.

Glaucus let the torch drop, crumpled up all the parchments, and got to his feet.

“This is hogwash!” he shouted, waving them in the air. “Are you trying to make a fool of me?!”

Ariadne jumped up and stepped back, disconcerted. The Sybarite threw the documents angrily on the ground, and started stamping on them, snorting like an enraged animal.

“No!” Ariadne fell at Glaucus’ feet in an attempt to protect the parchments with her body.

The Sybarite lifted a foot to step on her, but Akenon grabbed him by the wrists and pulled him away from Ariadne. Glaucus twisted and turned like an incensed lunatic. During the struggle, Akenon looked into his eyes and saw that the Sybarite was consumed by irrational rage. He wouldn’t be able to appease him. They needed to get out of there before Glaucus’ guards appeared. He and Ariadne had two soldiers inside the palace. If they could make it to the door they could escape.
But if Boreas turns up we’re dead
.

“Pythagoras demands your respect, Glaucus of Sybaris!”

Akenon and Glaucus froze at the severity of that command. Turning around, Akenon saw Ariadne pointing a hand at Glaucus, piercing him with eyes full of fire and ice.

“Show the respect you swore to the master of masters, unworthy disciple!”

Glaucus’ lips moved several times without producing a sound. He seemed confused, like a sleepwalker unable to wake up. Akenon threw a glance at the two entrances to the hall. No one had appeared yet.

Ariadne bent down with apparent composure, gathered up the parchments, and smoothed them out before putting them away inside her garments.

“I have shown you these documents, which you didn’t deserve to see, to prove that your goal is futile. And even if it weren’t, your actions are contrary to the spirit of what you promised to honor and uphold. Reflect on that.”

She turned her back on Glaucus and walked majestically toward the exit. A bewildered Akenon looked one last time at the Sybarite before following her. The Sybarite’s eyes were still fixed on the spot where Ariadne had spoken.

His face was frozen in a tense expression.

“Damned lunatic!” Akenon let out a breath once they had exited the palace. He turned toward Ariadne. “That was impressive, the way you dominated him. Though I thought you might take advantage of it to try and make him withdraw the prize.”

Ariadne answered without looking at him.

“I read it in his eyes. He was about to order our death.” Akenon was startled at Ariadne’s words, but she continued in a cold, slow voice, as if her mind were far away. “I was able to calm him down momentarily so we could escape with our lives, but Glaucus is uncontrollable now. He’s not going to bend to anyone’s wishes.”

Akenon made no reply. He had become used to Ariadne’s ability to see more than he was capable of.

Ariadne kept walking in silence. Containing Glaucus had been exhausting. On the other hand, what she had perceived in him was spine-chilling. The speed at which he had absorbed the contents of the studies on the circle was incomprehensible. She had brought him the most advanced documents on the subject, and Glaucus had deciphered them in barely half an hour. Moreover, she had studied some of the inscriptions on the walls and the silver panels, and even though those fragments of research seemed to lead nowhere, they revealed incredible advances.

More befitting a grand master than a mere initiate
.

Nevertheless, the most chilling thing, which still made her body tremble, was the fathomless darkness she had glimpsed within Glaucus.

She shook her head, overwhelmed. The surprises the night had offered were even more frightening when she considered the vast material resources available to the Sybarite.

Glaucus could be the most powerful enemy we’ve ever had.

They continued walking on the thick fabric that lined the streets in the aristocratic district. Since it was night, they hadn’t been able to ride to Glaucus’ palace. Akenon looked at Ariadne out of the corner of his eye. The silence surrounding them made the one that had descended between them more noticeable. Ariadne was absent and seemed sad. Akenon felt his heart contract. He wanted to hug her, but it was obvious she preferred to keep her distance.

“Ariadne.” He lowered his voice so the soldiers wouldn’t hear. “I’m truly sorry about this afternoon. I have no right to make decisions on your behalf. Besides, I’d probably be dead now if you hadn’t come. I have to thank you for that.”

Ariadne nodded without looking at him.

“As for us…” continued Akenon, “do you want to talk about that?”

Ariadne shook her head.

“I can’t right now, Akenon.” She searched for the words to say something more, but was too confused and tired.

“Very well,” Akenon replied, hurt. “Whenever you want to, all you have to do is say so.”

Ariadne nodded silently. The emotional whirlwind of the past few hours had been excessive, and she still had a headache. Maybe she had made a mistake the previous night, allowing herself to be led so impetuously by her feelings. Maybe the stability and serenity bestowed by greater emotional reserve were preferable.

Besides, I’m an expert at that
.

CHAPTER 67

June 11
th
, 510 B.C.

Cylon left his residence and walked hurriedly along the wide avenue. He had enjoyed the slave girl again that morning and it had made him late. The Council session was probably about to start.

“Counselor Cylon, you’re a little late for such an important session at the Assembly.”

Cylon turned to see who was addressing him. It was Kallo, the wily old merchant who had the best network of informers in Croton.
What did he mean by
“such an important session”
? he wondered, slowing his pace so that Kallo could keep up with him.

The merchant grated on his nerves, but was one of his best allies. In exchange for political protection and innumerable concessions, Kallo kept him informed of his enemies’ blunders. He furnished him with confidential information about the main public institutions in Croton, the security forces, and even the Pythagorean community.

“Despite my lateness, dear Kallo, I have the good fortune to have your company.” He studied his face. Crafty Kallo seemed happy. That must mean he had procured some valuable information before anyone else.

“You’re wondering what I’m referring to,” Kallo remarked. “Well, I have the best possible news about your nightmare of recent days.”

Orestes!
Cylon was all eyes and ears. That grand master had turned out to be a bitter surprise. He was taken aback by the skill with which Orestes had defended himself against his attacks and gained the trust of the majority of the Council. Much to his dismay, Cylon had had to admit he couldn’t defeat him on equal terms. That was why he had spent a couple of days devising other ways to get rid of him.

“I see in your eyes, dear Cylon, that you know I’m talking about Orestes.” Kallo’s voice was smug and reflected a malicious cheer. He lived for moments like these. “You’re right, I’m going to talk to you about Orestes, and with this news I’m going to place in your hands the possibility of becoming king of the Council this very day.”

“Speak, I beg you, Kallo.”

“I think our friendship and mutual cooperation has yielded very satisfactory results for both of us, esteemed Cylon.” Cylon nodded, wishing the merchant would stop beating around the bush. “In honor of our alliance, and placing all my resources at your disposal, I have succeeded in finding out…” Kallo paused with a smile that was missing half its teeth.

Say it once and for all, by Zeus!

“…that the Pythagorean, Orestes, died last night.”

“Yes, by Heracles, yes!” exclaimed Cylon, unable to contain himself.

They were nearing the Council building. He looked toward it with a triumphant smile.

“What’s more…” Kallo sought his attention again, and Cylon turned to him in surprise.

Is there more?

His companion continued talking. Cylon’s face revealed surprise, then incredulity and, finally, intense joy.

The Council session began with Aristomachus reading a communiqué. From the dais, the grand master read the document without once lifting his eyes from the parchment. The effort he made to keep his voice steady and solemn was as obvious as it was futile. In the communiqué, he announced that until Pythagoras returned, he would be the new representative of the Pythagorean community. The reason for this change was Orestes’ death, of which he was informing them at the same time.

Cylon kept his eyes closed during the reading of the communiqué, mentally planning his response, which would be devastating. He didn’t have to listen, as Kallo had summarized the contents of Aristomachus’ message which, to the rest of the councilors, came as a shocking piece of news.

When Aristomachus finished reading and descended from the dais, Cylon stood, his face solemn.
The Pythagoreans have just made a serious political blunder
. He knew Aristomachus was totally incompetent as a politician, but Milo, who had also worked on the communiqué, hadn’t proved to be any more capable than Aristomachus.

Cylon walked around the edge of the mosaic of Heracles on his way to the dais. The thousand counselors followed his steps with their eyes, not knowing what to expect. They were all wondering what he could possibly say after the latest tragedy to befall the Pythagoreans. Cylon suppressed a smile. In a few minutes, all the compassion now floating in the atmosphere would vanish. He’d open the eyes of those blind men, mercilessly unmasking the dark secrets of the accursed sect and the lies they had just flung in the faces of the city governors.

He climbed the stairs and stood in silence at the top of the dais, slowly casting his gaze over the various factions of counselors. He possessed the remarkable ability to sense the emotional mood of each group and to control it and turn it in his favor. Especially when he was putting forward serious arguments, as he was now. The Pythagoreans, as he had known would happen, had just lied to the Council. They had said Orestes was murdered and there was no trace of the murderer, as in the previous deaths. Cylon knew they themselves had killed him, beating him cruelly and holding his head underwater in a tank until he stopped kicking.

The Council is going to see clearly what kind of monsters it’s protecting
.

He nodded pensively, with a severe expression. Everyone was waiting, intrigued by his taking the dais, trying to guess what he would say. Cylon arranged his features so they would express the emotions he wanted his public to feel. He knew that audiences are skeptical of words, but tend to adopt the mood transmitted by facial expressions, tone of voice, and gestures. He continued to gaze at them, stoking the anger within himself, genuine indignation at the Pythagoreans’ despicable act. It was important that he be brimming with emotion before speaking, and when he tried he could manufacture it as expertly as the best actors in the theater.

I’m angry
, he told himself heatedly.
Truly furious because the Pythagoreans have lied to the Council.
All the counselors noticed he was fuming with irritation.

Neither was Cylon going to forget that the Pythagoreans had killed Orestes after accusations of betrayal. He had already alerted them to the fact that Orestes was a thief deep down, a delinquent who had spent time in jail in his youth. Now his own men had killed him for being a traitor. That lowered Orestes as much as it did his killers. He closed his eyes, shaking his head vehemently. Pythagoras and Milo, his son-in-law and commander of the army, had sealed a pact before the entire Council guaranteeing the safety of the community, and promising to investigate the murders. Now there was another murder, committed by the Pythagoreans themselves, and right under the very noses of Milo’s men! It was unacceptable, but the worst of it was that Milo himself had worked on the odious communiqué. He was as responsible for the death as he was for the lie.

The Council could see Cylon was furious. So much so, he had to take several breaths to calm himself before starting his response. Finally, he managed to wipe from his face the righteous indignation overwhelming him. Now he displayed enormous sorrow, and sufficient determination to shoulder the task of putting an end to an unacceptable situation. He raised his hands and face skyward, his eyes closed, and everyone knew by the silent movement of his lips that he was piously praying to the gods.

When he had finished, he stretched out his arms to them, his equals, looking from one side to the other, calling for the support and solidarity his words required.

From their faces, he could tell he had managed to
connect
.

He filled his lungs and roared in stentorian tones.

“Councilors of Croton!”