Killing Pythagoras (Mediterranean Prize Winner 2015) (61 page)

“You’ll have a luxurious death,” he whispered, showing it to him. He left it on the ground so his prisoner could see it.

Akenon kept his head down and avoided looking at the weapon. His breathing was slow and labored.

“Why didn’t you just poison Orestes?” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Daaruk laughed in amusement.

“Do you think you can delay your death by chatting to me? I’ve already told you no one is coming for you. I’ll be finished loading the mules in less than an hour and then,” he took Akenon’s chin and lifted his face, “then I’ll sink the dagger into your heart.”

Akenon stared back at him with the only eye he could open.

“Very well,” continued Daaruk, letting go of Akenon to get more gold. “I’ll consider your questions the final request of a condemned man.”

The truth was he got satisfaction from answering. The perfection of his plans filled him with a pride he couldn’t confess to anyone else. Besides, his words would torment Akenon.

“After I got rid of Cleomenides, I realized Pythagoras was considering Orestes as his next choice. At that point, I understood he would never make me his successor, so I started devising a new strategy. Your arrival in the community accelerated things. Before the evidence started to point to me, I faked my own death. That way, I could escape from the community, recover my family’s money through Atma, and use my parents’ old villa, the one we’re in, without anyone coming to bother me. By then, I had already decided I’d kill off all of Pythagoras’ possible successors.” He went out with two bags, returning momentarily. “Killing the candidates was essential to my future, but I didn’t want to limit myself to merely doing away with them. I tried to do it in the most painful way for Pythagoras…to punish him for his blindness and arrogance, you could say.” He paused a moment in front of Akenon. “Don’t you agree that arranging for Orestes to be killed by his colleagues was sublime? And even better, getting Aristomachus to commit suicide thanks to my letter about irrational numbers?”

Akenon frowned.

“Well, well,” said Daaruk, “I see Pythagoras has kept the contents of that letter a secret.” He gave a dry little laugh. “I thought he might. You wouldn’t be able to appreciate the problem irrational numbers pose, but the fact that they exist means Pythagoras’ research is based on a mistaken premise. With this discovery, I demolished his mathematical doctrine, just as I divested him of his pathetic successors.” Daaruk couldn’t help smiling with pride. “It must have also been hard for him to accept that I had solved the problem of the quotient, which he had declared had no solution. I had to push myself to the limit to solve it using Pythagoras’ theorem, but it was worth it.”

When Daaruk left the room again, Akenon slowly shook his head.

Revenge and power
, he thought in disgust.

Those were his enemy’s two goals. Every step of his macabre plan had served to further both of those objectives. In addition, all his actions had been designed to show his superiority as well as his contempt. He had played with them. He had left his personal stamp on each of his actions, taking for granted that they wouldn’t be able to identify him.

Akenon suddenly remembered something Ariadne had said. “
Sometimes I get the impression that our enemy doesn’t intend to kill my father, but instead wants to make him suffer by destroying everything that matters to him
.” Ariadne had been right. Daaruk had done everything he could to take from Pythagoras every essential element of his life—his successors, his political power, his doctrine… But on top of that, after having destroyed everything that mattered to the philosopher, Daaruk wanted to kill Pythagoras.

Akenon eyed the gold dagger lying on the ground with its tip pointing at him.

He’s keeping me alive in case he needs to use me as a hostage
.

Daaruk had assured him no one would come before he finished loading the gold, but if he was so sure of that he would already have killed him. Akenon looked toward the door. Daaruk was taking longer than usual.

Does he have a problem?

Just then, Daaruk returned.

“I’m going to start loading the last mule,” he whispered.

He crossed the room, stopping for a minute to light an oil lamp.

Akenon noticed the light coming through the open door was fading.
It’s getting dark out
, he thought, surprised. He didn’t even know how many days he had been there.

“Do you have other accomplices in the brotherhood?” he asked in a faint voice.

“That would be stupid. You already know I can get collaborators any time I need to.”

“Like Cylon,” mused Akenon. “Through him, you controlled the voting at the Council.” He paused to breathe. “You arranged for the Council of a Thousand to make the decision to shelter the aristocrats from Sybaris, knowing it would mean a war with the Sybarite rebels.”

“I hope you can appreciate the merits of that action,” boasted Daaruk. “If all I’d wanted was to be sure there’d be a war, the easiest thing would have been to imitate the Three Hundred and vote in favor of asylum. However, by abstaining, I killed two birds with one stone: first, I instigated the war, and second, I was later able to accuse the Three Hundred of being the ones responsible for it. After all, they voted for it, while we abstained.”

Akenon nodded, lost in his thoughts. In spite of himself, he had to admit he was impressed at Daaruk’s ability to manipulate situations.

“You also controlled the leaders of the rebellion in Sybaris,” he murmured. “You wanted them to rise up against their aristocrats as an indirect way of bringing about the war between Sybaris and Croton…and in the process you asked them to repay your help by allowing you to keep Glaucus’ gold.”

“Those rebels would have accomplished nothing without me. They were frightened, lacked organization, and they didn’t even have a clear vision of what they wanted.”

“Would you have preferred them to win the war?”

“I thought they would win,” admitted Daaruk as he took more gold to the last mule. “I was watching the battle from a hill, ready to join the Sybarite leaders afterwards. I had to make sure that after the battle they would destroy Croton and the community. However, the Sybarite horses started dancing, and the Sybarites were massacred. That was fascinating.” A satisfied smile spread over his face. “Of course, Croton’s victory also fit into my plans. Through the Crotonian army officers I controlled, a significant number of troops obeyed me instead of Milo. I made sure they plundered Sybaris with such brutality that the Council would be quick to lay blame on someone.”

“And this morning you gave them the person to blame, and convinced them they should set fire to Milo’s house,” grunted Akenon in disgust.

“It didn’t take much. They wanted to put the blame on someone else. In the end, the key to manipulation is putting men in touch with their deepest desires.” Daaruk looked Akenon straight in the eye with such intensity his prisoner shivered. “And I can assure you, my pathetic Akenon, that the selfish and destructive impulses are always the most powerful. It doesn’t take much effort to induce a man to embark on destroying his fellow man.”

Akenon looked away, taking a while before he spoke again. When he did, his voice was weak, but there was aggression in it, too.

“Had you also allowed for the possibility that Ariadne might force you to escape from the Council?”

Daaruk answered without taking any notice of his hostility.

“As I already told you, that’s just a small setback to my plans. For the past month, I’ve had a boat at the ready. In a few hours, I’ll be out at sea, and within two or three days I’ll have a plan underway to take control of another government.”

Akenon took a breath and continued questioning.

“Will you start from scratch or is it something you’ve been working on?”

“Poor Akenon,” whispered Daaruk, “you’ve always been one step behind me, yet in your final moments you want to know the future. Don’t you realize that such interest is an attempt to cling to a world where you no longer belong?”

He stopped talking while he took out another two bags.

“The fourth mule is almost full, we have hardly any time left,” he said when he came back. He went to the hole where the gold was stored and continued to talk while he finished the job. “I suppose you realize the situation in Croton is irreversible. They might free the Three Hundred, but they won’t give them back the power. Besides, the example we’ve set here, where the nucleus of the brotherhood has always been, will encourage political groups opposed to the Pythagoreans in other cities. I’ll infiltrate those groups, just as I did in Croton. I’ll have the Pythagorean politicians expelled from the governments and their communities razed.”

He went out to load the last bags. When he returned, he went to the table and began collecting the documents, folding them or rolling them up in wooden cylinders.

“All Magna Graecia will hear what happened in Croton,” said Akenon, his voice hoarse. “Whatever city you go to, you’ll be caught.”

“I don’t think so.” Daaruk walked past him with his arms full of parchments. “In fact, I think it will be the opposite. I’ll present myself unmasked, saying no one knows Pythagoras better than I do. I’ll tell them I’ve seen the light and I know Pythagoras is the incarnation of evil.” He laughed unpleasantly. “They’ll welcome me with open arms. Open your eyes, Akenon, you already saw how easily I controlled the destinies of Sybaris and Croton. In a few weeks, I’ll have taken control of another city, and within a year I’ll rule over most of Magna Graecia. And, of course, I won’t forget Pythagoras. If he survives today’s injuries, I’ll send so many assassins after him not even the gods will be able to protect him.”

Daaruk disappeared with the parchments, and Akenon was left staring at the open door. It was almost completely dark outside. The master assassin returned quickly, this time closing the door behind him.

Akenon looked at the gold dagger pointing at him from the ground, his heart pounding.
The time has come
. Daaruk walked toward him, but kept going until he was standing in front of a large bronze mirror. The top rim of the frame was decorated with a figure of Cerberus, the monstrous three-headed dog that guarded the entrance to the underworld. Daaruk drew closer until he was only inches from the polished surface and became absorbed in the contemplation of his burned face.

“There was another reason I had to kill Atma,” he slowly whispered through his damaged throat.

The echo of those words dissolved in the strained atmosphere of the underground room. Akenon could only see Daaruk’s back, lit by the oil lamp on the table. He tried to swallow, and suppressed a cry of pain.

Daaruk turned.

“I’m sure I suffered these burns because Atma got nervous and didn’t do his job properly on my funeral pyre.”

Slowly he drew closer to Akenon, his deformed face tense.

“And I think,” he continued whispering, “that the reason Atma became anxious and didn’t protect me sufficiently from the fire was because you were watching him.”

He bent down wearily and picked up the gold dagger. Running a finger along its blade, he looked at Akenon. His prisoner was gaunt from dehydration and suffering. His neck and half his face were one enormous bruise covered in dried blood. He looked pathetic, but the only thing Daaruk felt was hatred.

“Anything else you want to ask before you die?”

“No.”

The confidence of that reply irritated Daaruk, who would have preferred Akenon to beg. He looked him in the eye for a few seconds. Suddenly, he drew his arm back and, using all his strength, plunged the dagger toward his prisoner’s heart.

The blow hit its target, causing excruciating pain.

CHAPTER 135

July 29
th
, 510 B.C.

There was a great upheaval at the Council after Daaruk’s escape. Ariadne was still on the ground, flung off her horse by the master assassin, when Cylon raised his voice in an attempt to control a situation that was threatening to become dangerous for him.

“I didn’t know who the masked man was!” he declared, surrounded by inquisitorial stares. “He deceived me the same as all of you!”

Councilors and soldiers alike stared at Cylon, but they also looked at each other warily. Cylon knew it would be easier to manipulate them while they were disconcerted, before they came to a decision. He raised his arms, turning to the left and the right, as if to show them the naked integrity of his soul. His voice was firmer and more sincere than ever.

“I swear to you by all the gods I didn’t know who he was and I’ve always acted in the best interests of the city!”

Resorting to oaths might have been simplistic, but it usually had the desired effect. He continued tirelessly proffering oaths while he discreetly observed the men on the grandstands, the floor and the dais. When he was sure he had everyone’s attention, he unveiled his strongest argument.

“We must look to the future, and the first thing we must do is seize all of the accursed Daaruk’s gold!”

He sensed the tension beginning to lessen.

“Ariadne has revealed to us that Daaruk has
thousands of pounds of gold
hidden away. Now we know where that gold is, and we must prevent Daaruk from retrieving it.”

The councilors’ expressions relaxed as they visualized
thousands of pounds of gold
.

Thanks to the gods
. Cylon breathed a sigh of relief, sensing that the hostility in the air had almost disappeared.

At that moment, like an icy wind creeping up his tunic, Ariadne’s firm voice shook him.

“I’ll tell you how to reach the place where you’ll find Boreas’ body and the gold.”

Cylon turned to Ariadne. She was standing in the middle of the hall, looking at him with an unreadable expression.

She’s going to reveal the location of the gold in exchange for my head
, thought Cylon in horror.

Everyone present directed their attention to Ariadne. To Cylon’s surprise, she looked away from him and for the next few minutes simply explained how to reach Daaruk’s hideout.

“As I’m sure you can understand,” added Ariadne when she had finished giving the directions, “I don’t want to go back to that place, but you’ll find it easily.”

Some of the councilors knew that remote area well, and had identified the house she was talking about.

“It’s the villa that used to belong to Hipsicreon,” one of the councilors pointed out, “the slave merchant who died last year. I know exactly where it is.”

Cylon hurried to take center stage again.

“Very well, in that case you can lead us there. Let’s get going.”

Cylon was as surprised as he was delighted. Ariadne, who had so skillfully intervened against Daaruk, now seemed more interested in leaving the Council than trying to turn it against him.

They all began moving en masse. Ariadne took advantage of this to slip like a cat toward the exit.

I haven’t forgotten about you, Cylon, but I have another priority right now
.

As she was about to go out, shouts erupted.

The men closest to the doors moved back in horror. Fear spread through the hall, and Ariadne instinctively joined the withdrawing horde, looking behind her in alarm as she ran. Through the open doors, General Polydamantus, Milo’s most loyal officer, entered. Behind him, like a river that has overflowed its banks, dozens of hoplites stormed in.

Beyond the doors thousands of agitated soldiers swarmed.

It had all started some hours earlier. A number of loyal hoplites had gone to the forest to retrieve the body, riddled with stab wounds, of Milo, their commander-in-chief and hero of Croton. They had adorned the body with their leader’s laurel and olive wreaths and taken it to the temple of Heracles. Once word got around that Milo had died, all the soldiers faithful to him came to pay their respects. Little by little, they learned that Cylon and
a masked man
had organized the expedition to Milo’s house with troops loyal to them, behind the backs of the rest of the army. A couple of hours later, General Polydamantus had announced that he and whoever wished to join him would go to the Council to arrest those responsible. The countless troops gathered around the temple of Heracles had followed him as one.

Terrified at seeing a torrent of soldiers bursting through the Council doors, the politicians ran until they were squeezed together at the other end of the large hall, where they jostled each other to avoid being in the front row.

General Polydamantus advanced a few steps and unsheathed his sword. An impending sense of death filled the hall.

“Councilors, hand over at once whoever is responsible for Milo’s death.”

The general already knew Cylon was behind it. He also knew the politician had the support of many members of the Council, but he didn’t wish to eviscerate Croton’s governing body. His intention was simply to dig out the rotten elements and punish the mastermind behind those crimes.

The councilors understood immediately that Polydamantus’ target was Cylon. All eyes turned to him, and those nearest backed away, as if trying to avoid being contaminated by his guilt.

Cylon saw a wide passageway opening up between himself and General Polydamantus. He tried to slip away among his party members, but they pushed him toward the soldiers without a moment’s hesitation. He looked at the general across the open space and understood he needed to use the full power of his rhetorical skills as quickly as possible. He walked toward Polydamantus, hands outstretched, his face the image of sincerity.

“Let us not be the victims of another hoax,” he remonstrated vehemently. “I’m the first to lament the death of our glorious Milo, the man who has brought so much honor to our beloved city…”

Ariadne was pressed against the wall, gradually sliding along it toward the doors, but at that she stopped, clenching her fists. She was torn between her urgent need to leave and her desire to intervene to make sure Cylon didn’t get away unscathed.

There was no need for her to act. Polydamantus looked at Cylon with contempt, paying no heed to his words, and turned to the hoplites.

“Chain him and throw him into the deepest part of the dungeon. Give him no food or water.”

He approached Cylon and spoke in disgust.

“Tomorrow you’ll stand trial in a military court. We’ll decide there how to execute you.”

Ariadne felt a dark joy as she watched the scene. Cylon tried to escape, but many hands caught him in an iron grip, pulling him savagely toward the exit. He squirmed violently, shouting threats, followed by entreaties. The remaining councilors held their tongues in cowardly silence as the throng of soldiers surrounded Cylon, covering him in insults and spittle.

When the tumult around Cylon had faded into the distance, the rest of the politicians rushed to obsequiously inform Polydamantus and the rest of the army of the fabulous treasure that awaited them in an unguarded hideout. A noisy debate instantly ensued, as they tried to organize the expedition in search of Daaruk’s gold. All wanted to secure a good portion of the booty for themselves. After a long discussion, General Polydamantus, making use of his current position of strength, decreed that half the gold would go to the military, a quarter to the politicians, and the remaining quarter to the city treasury.

Ariadne slipped out of the Council during the discussion about the gold, and went down the steps of the building, anxiously looking into all the soldiers’ faces. Finally she recognized a cavalry officer who was an initiate in the brotherhood.

“Arquelao, thanks to the gods,” she said in distress. “I’ve just heard that Milo’s house was attacked during our School’s summit. Do you know if anyone else was killed, apart from Milo? Do you know if my father…”

Her voice broke, and Arquelao was quick to reply.

“Your father escaped, but he’s injured, I think gravely. The rest… Nearly everyone was killed, including Hippocreon and Evander.”

Ariadne felt every hair on her body stand on end. She couldn’t move, unable for a moment to take in the magnitude of the tragedy.

“I need…” She was so stunned she had to make an effort to remember her most pressing objective. “I need you to give me a mount and a sword.”

Without asking questions, Arquelao handed her his sword and his own horse. Ariadne took the reins and mounted clumsily, still shaken. She dug her heels in and galloped out of Croton.