Killing Pythagoras (Mediterranean Prize Winner 2015) (63 page)

And even in the cities where we’re strongest, the situation could quickly change
, he thought, remembering the bitter lesson learned in Croton.

He filled his lungs with the hot air of the room and slowly exhaled. He was sure that in the following months there would be a wave of movements against the governments throughout Magna Graecia. Opposition groups, or even the common people, would try to imitate what had happened in Croton. They would also be emboldened by the popular rebellion against the Sybarite aristocrats, the ousting of King Tarquinius in Rome, and the fall of Hippias, the Athenian tyrant.

Croton, Sybaris, Rome, Athens…
The times were changing, and one had to change with them or risk losing many lives by clinging to power.

My priority should be to avoid more deaths
, he thought, nodding slowly. Even if he had to do it from that bed, he would plan and lead an organized retreat from all the governments where there was a risk of violent opposition.

His expression was grave as he made one of the most difficult decisions of his life. It was with profound sorrow that he realized he would have to bury his dream of creating a community of nations. His principles of harmony, progress, and justice might never govern people’s destinies.

When Pythagoras had been in Metapontum for a week, he received a great surprise.

It was late evening, almost night and the temperature in the room had only just begun to cool down. The philosopher was meditating, his gaze absent on the ceiling, when the door opened and Tirseno came in, a sealed document in his hand.

“A message arrived for you,” he said seriously. He hesitated a moment before approaching, then continued. “It’s from the Council in Croton.”

Pythagoras stretched out his hand in silence and took it. Tirseno left the room, closing the door behind him. When he was alone, Pythagoras looked at the document with a shiver, remembering the parchment Aristomachus had received before killing himself. He broke the seal and quickly examined both sides of the document. There was no inverted pentacle, only the Croton Council seal.

A Council tainted by the blood of innocent people
, he thought, feeling repudiation.

He began reading, fearing bad news for the Crotonian community. However, he discovered that the seven hundred seemed to be satisfied with the power they had gained. Not only did they have no desire to act against the community, they were inviting him to return to Croton, albeit on the condition that he devote himself only to matters having nothing to do with politics.

Pythagoras laid the document on his chest and leaned his head on the pillow.

I’m not going back
, he thought after a moment.

At least not as leader of the community. Not only was he sickened by the politicians’ behavior, he was disgusted with the military and the common people for not standing up to leaders who engaged in such unjust, violent acts. Besides, he was wounded, exhausted by the events of the past months, and dejected by the deaths of so many friends.

The six hundred disciples in the Croton community deserve someone who can guide them with vigor, clarity, and resolve
.

He took the document from his chest and put it on the ground beside the bed.

I’ll tell Tirseno to write a message to Theano
.

He was going to ask his wife not to come to him, but to remain in Croton and take over the leadership of the community.

I need to focus on other matters
, he told himself resolutely.

He had to supervise the withdrawal of the brotherhood from political affairs throughout Magna Graecia. That would take months, if not years. In addition, he needed to disseminate the discovery of irrational numbers. Daaruk had used that discovery to orchestrate Aristomachus’ suicide, but he hadn’t made it public. His intention had probably been to disclose it at a later stage, no doubt in the way that would be most harmful to the brotherhood.

Where is Daaruk?
wondered Pythagoras.

The last he had heard was that he had escaped from the Council…and that Ariadne had gone after him. He shook his head, thinking of his daughter. There was still no word of her.
Maybe she’s already safe and sound in the Crotonian community, and at any moment Tirseno will walk in with the news
.

As for Daaruk, it was now ten days since he had disappeared, which meant he could be anywhere. Maybe he had resumed his plan to kill off the brotherhood. At that very moment he could be sending letters to all the communities, revealing the existence of irrational numbers.

Pythagoras shook his head.
Whether it’s through Daaruk or someone else, the abyss posed by irrational numbers will come to light
.

In his discovery of the existence of something no one else had even glimpsed yet, Daaruk had been ahead of his time. Thanks to him, Pythagoras could now clearly see that his mathematical studies and his concept of the world had run up against the wall—the mountain, in reality—of irrational numbers.

We must confront them, but with utmost caution, so they don’t destroy everything we’ve achieved up to now
.

Pythagoras’ aim wasn’t to try and bury the discovery. His wish was to transmit the new concept to a select number of grand masters, after which he would deliberate with them about the best way to disseminate the new knowledge among the rest of the Pythagoreans, causing the least possible trauma.

He looked at the little window in his room. The shutters were open, but from his bed all he could see was the sky. A mantle of gray clouds had brought nightfall earlier than usual.

He sank back into his reflections.

There’s another problem seriously affecting the future of the School
.

The financial viability of the brotherhood was now in jeopardy due to the loss of political support, the foreseeable drop in new members, and even the desertion of some disciples.

He remembered all the gold that had passed from Glaucus’ hands into Daaruk’s.
With just a fraction of that gold, the brotherhood could survive with no problem
.

The door opened suddenly, startling Pythagoras. The philosopher turned his head to see who it was.

His face lit up with an incredulous smile.

CHAPTER 139

August 8
th
, 510 B.C.

“Father!”

Ariadne,” whispered Pythagoras. He stroked his daughter’s hair, then hugged her tightly, crying silently while she sobbed against his chest.

Akenon remained by the door, respecting the intimate moment between father and daughter. The doctor, Tirseno, had just told them that Pythagoras’ wound was healing well, but Akenon had feared it might have been a merciful lie to calm Ariadne.

Thanks to the gods
, thought Akenon as he observed him. Although the philosopher was thinner and paler, he didn’t look like the dying man he had feared they’d find.

Nevertheless, Pythagoras’ splint was very striking. Several strips of wood tied with bands of cloth ran along the left side of his body from his knees to the midpoint of his torso, keeping his hip rigid. A linen bandage covered the wound on his hip. Akenon discreetly sniffed the air in the room, but found no trace of the sickly sweet smell of rotting flesh. Bearing in mind that ten days had passed since Pythagoras had been wounded, that was a very good sign.

Ariadne lifted her head and laughed, embarrassed at having cried like a little girl. She squeezed her father’s hands, and they gazed at each other in silence for a while. Then Pythagoras turned to Akenon.

“Dear friend, I’m so happy to see you again.”

Akenon came forward, smiling, and shook Pythagoras’ hand. Ariadne was still clasping the other one.

“I imagine that’s Daaruk’s work,” said Pythagoras, pointing at Akenon’s face. The swelling on his right cheek was still visible, his nose was slightly crooked, and there was an uneven brown patch on his neck.

Akenon nodded.

“Daaruk and Boreas caught me and almost killed me, but thanks to Ariadne we don’t have to worry about either of them anymore.”

Pythagoras asked them to tell him everything that had happened. They explained that Akenon had figured out Daaruk’s identity from his ring. They also told the philosopher how Ariadne had managed to kill Boreas, get to the villa where Akenon was, and untie him before going to the Council to unmask Daaruk. Ariadne couldn’t avoid the expression of contempt that crossed her face when she remembered how Daaruk had fled the Council and gone to his hideout, thinking he was escaping, only to have Akenon apprehend him.

“When Eritrius told me where Daaruk’s family villa was,” said Ariadne, “I asked him not to give anyone else that information. That way I made sure no one would interfere in our plans. Besides, that allowed us to spend the night there, since Akenon was badly hurt and couldn’t ride. The next morning before dawn I went to the port to find a boat so we could leave Croton. While I was at the port, I met Eshdek.”

Ariadne looked at Akenon, and he continued the story.

“Eshdek is a friend from Carthage who is completely trustworthy. He’s a powerful merchant for whom I do most of my work. He happened to stop in Croton on his way to Sybaris. When he heard the news about everything that had happened in the Sybarite city, he decided to try and sell his merchandise in Croton. Fortunately, Ariadne remembered me mentioning him so she approached him and Eshdek immediately offered to help us. He picked us up from a beach with one of his ships and kept us hidden for several days while his men kept us abreast of everything that was going on. The moment we learned you were in Metapontum, we set sail in Eshdek’s ship.”

“What did you do with Daaruk?” asked Pythagoras, looking at his daughter.

Ariadne’s face clouded and she couldn’t meet her father’s gaze. There was an uncomfortable silence. Finally, Akenon answered for her.

“He’s chained to an oar on Eshdek’s ship. We couldn’t hand him over to the Crotonian authorities, since he’s bribed too many people who would help him in the hope of receiving more gold.” He hesitated before continuing. “We also had to take into account the seductive power of his gaze and his hypnotic voice.”

Pythagoras nodded, looking somber. Ariadne got up silently and looked out the window. As she watched the night shadows, she was overcome by a profound melancholy. She had always felt she didn’t completely fit into the brotherhood, but now she knew with painful certainty that because of Cylon and Daaruk, the distance separating her from the Pythagorean School had become unbridgeable. Her father would always love her, but he would never be able to accept some of the dark feelings within her that were as much a part of her as all her other traits.

Pythagoras watched her sadly, then turned to Akenon.

“Are you going back to Carthage?”

Akenon assented, but Ariadne wasn’t listening to his words. She was thinking of the second day they had spent in hiding on Eshdek’s ship. While she was changing the bandage on Akenon’s face, one of the sailors had arrived with the news that Cylon had been executed.

“His body is on display at Croton’s northern gate,” the sailor said.

At that moment, Ariadne had felt an inexorable need to see the body. When night fell she hid her face under a hood and left the ship. She didn’t tell Akenon where she was going because she knew he would try to stop her.

When she reached Cylon’s body, she was slightly disappointed that the swollen, deformed face was barely recognizable. Even so, she spent half an hour there, motionless, probing her feelings. As Pythagoras’ daughter, she felt she ought to experience forgiveness or compassion, but that wasn’t what happened. When she remembered that Cylon had ordered her kidnap and rape, led the attack on Milo’s house, devoted his life to crushing her father and everyone associated with him… When she contemplated his corpse and thought about those things, what she felt was an angry release, followed immediately by a deep sense of emptiness.

After spending two days with Pythagoras, who continued to make good progress under Tirseno’s care, Ariadne and Akenon left the small community of Metapontum.

They had divided between them over two thousand pounds of gold from Daaruk’s villa which was now hidden in the hold of Eshdek’s ship. Before leaving Metapontum, Ariadne offered her father almost all her share, and Akenon gave him half of his. Pythagoras found himself unexpectedly with more than fifteen hundred pounds of gold, worth nearly four million drachmas.

That will cover the expenses of all the Pythagorean communities for several years
, thought Ariadne.

In a few minutes they would reach the place where Eshdek’s ship was docked. They hadn’t spoken since beginning to walk. Ariadne watched Akenon from the corner of her eye and thought of saying something, but didn’t. It was obvious that Akenon’s thoughts had taken him far away.

He’s thinking of Carthage. He must see his return as a release after everything that has happened here.

Ariadne looked forward again. Before falling into Daaruk’s and Boreas’ hands, she had felt incapable of having a relationship. However, since confronting the giant, she had noticed that had changed. She was still apprehensive about the emotional risk of exposing herself so intimately to someone, but the block and the apparently insurmountable fear had disappeared. There was no longer any trauma to come between her and Akenon.

But I mustn’t tell him I’m pregnant.
If she did, he would feel duty-bound to take care of them and she would never know his real feelings.

The past weeks had been so turbulent and tragic that everything else had been relegated to the background. However, in recent days, they had found time to talk more calmly.
And Akenon hasn’t mentioned our relationship even once
. Not only that, she had heard him several times talking to Eshdek about how much he was looking forward to returning to Carthage.

Trying to think of something else, Ariadne evoked her leave-taking from her father. At once, her eyes welled up. She clenched her teeth to stop herself from crying, but a telltale tear slowly rolled down her cheek. In Pythagoras’ room, having kissed him for the last time, she had walked toward the door, but had suddenly been assaulted by the thought that her father’s face must show his true feelings for her now that she had her back to him. Those feelings could only be sorrow and condemnation, given that her bitter, resentful attitude towards their enemies went against her father’s moral teachings. When she reached the threshold, dejected, an uncontrollable impulse to turn around had gripped her. She deserved the disapproval she would find, the punishment of seeing clearly in her father’s face how she had disappointed him. She turned her head suddenly to catch him by surprise. Framed by his magnificent white hair, every feature of that sober, powerful, venerated man’s face radiated the same thing as his golden gaze.

The tenderness of a father who loves his daughter.