Killing Pythagoras (Mediterranean Prize Winner 2015) (19 page)

Akenon swayed on his feet, feeling he would go mad. A little face was turned toward him as if pleading for help.

Could that be my clients’ baby?
he wondered, falling to his knees. Two streams of tears ran down his horrified face.

A minute later, weak from loss of blood, he fainted at Moloch’s feet.

The day after the sacrifice, Akenon woke up in his clients’ house. They had sent two servants to the enclosure, and when they found him unconscious, they had brought him to their house to care for him. He told them he had been unable to save their son. Although they had already imagined the outcome, they collapsed with heart-rending cries at Akenon’s confirmation.

Akenon left the house as soon as he could stand up, and sought out Eshdek, the most powerful Phoenician he knew, and for whom he had worked on a couple of cases. He wanted revenge. Eshdek tried hard to convince him to forget his grievance. The child was already dead. The only thing he could do for Akenon was place him under his protection to prevent the corrupt magistrate from finishing the job.

A few weeks later, that magistrate died of natural causes. Akenon was able to put behind him his repeated thoughts of revenge, but he would never forget the half-charred bodies of those babies.

The image faded, and he found himself again up to his waist in water, bent over, his head leaning on the edge of the boat. He blinked several times, dazed, then took a deep breath in an attempt to dispel the bitter flavor of his memories.

When he finally peered inside the boat, everything was black: ashes, the odd tip of a half-burnt branch…and the unmistakable remains of a human being. He looked at them for a while without touching them, and suddenly noticed something of a different color.

What’s this?
he wondered, reaching out.

He brushed it lightly, apprehensively, and the glitter of gold appeared. It was Daaruk’s ring, still fitted to a finger that had lost most of its flesh. His eyes moved up the finger and he saw that the charred bones of Daaruk’s hand disappeared at the wrist under the debris of a few branches. Carefully, he removed the branches and could make out the rest of the arm, unconnected to the shoulder socket. It appeared that at some point during the night, the weight of the corpse had caused the middle section of the wooden frame to fall in as it burned. Presumably a few branches had then fallen on the corpse, which was already quite burnt, making it harder now to distinguish the wooden debris from the human remains.

He waded out of the river and took a blanket he had packed in his saddlebag. Before returning to the boat he examined the ground again.

Atma hasn’t been here.

He went back into the water, spread the blanket on the stern of the boat, and began placing the human remains on it. As he lifted a femur, he saw some shreds of burnt flesh hanging off the bone.

I’m sure I don’t have to be too meticulous about it
, he thought, sickened.

He had started with the lower part of the body. When he reached the hands, he reflected a moment, then carefully pulled off the gold ring and turned it in his fingers. The heat had deformed it slightly, but the pentacle symbol was intact. He tested its weight for a moment in his palm, looking at Daaruk’s remains on the blanket.

Finally, he put the ring away inside his tunic.

When he got back to the community, Akenon dismounted, distractedly greeting the team that patrolled the entrance. He crossed the portico, leading the mare by the reins. In the distance, he saw Ariadne walking toward him, fury written all over her face.

Well, well, it looks like I’m due for a reprimand
.

When she was a few steps away, Akenon stopped and was about to raise his hand in a conciliatory gesture. When he moved it, inside his tunic, he realized he was still holding Daaruk’s gold ring.

Gold, the most common motive for committing a crime
, he suddenly thought.

Immediately, ideas associated themselves in his brain. He could almost hear the click as the pieces fell into place.

Ariadne reached him.

“Just what…”

Akenon cut her off with a peremptory gesture.

“Quick, come with me!” he exclaimed as he leapt onto the mare’s back.

He held out a hand to Ariadne, who looked up at him, disconcerted.

“We must go to Croton right now,” urged Akenon. “We may be on the verge of catching Daaruk’s killer.”

Ariadne grabbed Akenon’s forearm firmly and swung herself up behind him. Akenon spurred the mare. They met Evander at the entrance. Akenon pulled up on the reins.

“Evander, give this to Pythagoras.” From his saddlebag, he drew a small bundle, carefully packaged. “They’re Daaruk’s remains.”

Evander held the bundle apprehensively. Before he could reply, Ariadne and Akenon galloped away toward Croton.

CHAPTER 39

April 24
th
, 510 B.C.

Atma left the imposing stone building and said goodbye to the two enormous guards who stood sentry at the entrance. They glanced at him and looked away without a word. They weren’t Pythagoreans, so to them Atma was nothing more than a slave.

I might be a slave, but I’m rich
.

He suppressed a smile. He couldn’t consider himself safe until he had left the city. After that he would let his hair grow and settle down in another area. Then no one would think of him as anything other than a respectable citizen.

Although it was quite early, there was already plenty of movement in the city’s main streets as Atma walked through them. He touched his chest, missing the document he had guarded so zealously. It had just been exchanged for something better, though. He turned right and kept walking, keeping his head down. It was absurd, but it seemed to him that everyone could guess the contents of the heavy bundle he was carrying over his right shoulder.

There’s no way anyone could know I’m carrying a fortune in gold
, he told himself, trying to stay calm.

Something brushed against his face and he lifted his head. It was starting to rain. The color of the clouds advertised that a severe storm was imminent.

Thank goodness it didn’t rain yesterday
. He half smiled, experiencing a bittersweet feeling as he recalled the funeral pyre blazing downstream.

He arrived at his destination, a large livery stable where, as well as stabling horses and beasts of burden, you could purchase a good mount. He walked by the stable boys, going directly to the man in charge. In the past, he had dealt with him when he had bought two donkeys for the community.

“Greetings, Eteocles.”

The man turned around with the same mistrustful expression he always wore behind his thick, unkempt beard. He made an effort and, being a good salesman, managed to remember his name.

“Good morning, Atma. You’re up early today. Do you want another donkey? I have excellent stock.”

Atma answered, trying to appear nonchalant. He wanted to leave the city as soon as possible, but must avoid arousing suspicion at all costs.

“This time there’s more in it for you.” Eteocles’ greedy eyes narrowed. “I’ve been instructed to purchase a strong, fast horse, one that can cover twice the distance of a donkey in a day.”

“I see. And who’s in such a hurry?”

“It’s to speed up the delivery of messages. Politics, I suppose.” Atma shrugged, pretending the subject was of no interest to him, and resisted the urge to look toward the stable door. He was afraid that at any moment someone would come around the corner and detain him.

“Very good, I’m sure I’ve got what you’re looking for.”

Eteocles went into the stables and Atma followed. The Crotonian was undecided, trying to plan how he’d handle the transaction. Should he start by showing an inferior horse so as to increase the price when Atma asked for a better one? Or maybe it was preferable to offer his best horse at a very high price, so he could end up making a good profit on a more modest steed?

Atma had no time to spend on wheeling and dealing.

“Listen, Eteocles, I’ve come this early because I have many errands to run today. If you show me your best horse at a reasonable price, I’ll pay you in gold right now. Otherwise, I’ll go about my errands and come back later…unless I find a suitable horse somewhere else.”

Eteocles bit down heavily on his lower lip. He wasn’t used to doing business like this, but neither did he want to lose the opportunity of making a decent amount of gold. On the other hand, Atma’s attitude was very suspicious.

By all the gods, he’s talking about paying immediately, and in gold!

The fact that he didn’t appreciate being spoken to like that by a slave was tempered by the mention of gold. Besides, he remembered the first time Atma had bought a donkey from him. At first, he hadn’t paid him any notice because he was a slave, and Atma had to leave without being served. Some hours later, a Pythagorean master had come to Eteocles to explain, with a disturbing mixture of gentleness and firmness, that Atma was more than a slave, he was a Pythagorean initiate and, therefore, should be treated the same as Pythagoras himself. Eteocles wasn’t a Pythagorean but, like all Crotonians, he knew that Pythagoras was the most influential person in the city.
And one only needs to see him and hear him to know he has a direct connection to the gods, if he isn’t one himself
.

Never again would he show disrespect toward Atma.

Five minutes later, Atma was trotting through the streets of Croton. Eteocles had thrown a pair of saddlebags into the bargain, where the fortune in gold he had just begun to spend was now nestled. The deal with Eteocles hadn’t gone too badly considering the haste with which he had closed it.

This horse is excellent
, he thought, delighted. The animal was young, big, and very strong, not at all like the community mare.

Rain was now pelting down in fat drops, but it wasn’t as cold as it had been at dawn. Squinting to see better through the rain, Atma could make out the blurry profile of Croton’s north gate a hundred steps away.

My dream is about to come true.

Heedless of the pedestrians, he spurred the horse to a powerful gallop.

CHAPTER 40

April 24
th
, 510 B.C.

Once the mare had passed the gymnasium, a light drizzle began to dampen Ariadne’s and Akenon’s clothes. They finished the journey to Croton at a gallop, then slowed to a trot. Akenon guided the horse through the streets, following Ariadne’s directions. The rain was heavier now and the dirt streets were beginning to turn to mud.

“That’s it, where those guards are,” Ariadne pointed out after a while.

Akenon had just explained his suspicions to her and Ariadne agreed with him.
If we move fast we could be on the verge of catching Cleomenides’ and Daaruk’s killer.

Akenon pulled up the mare next to the small stable at the corner of the building, practically flinging the reins into a servant’s hands. The servant stared at them, dumb-struck, as they ran to the main entrance.

The guards began to block their entry. No one barged into Eritrius the custodian’s establishment. At the last minute, however, they realized that the young woman running with the Egyptian was Pythagoras’ daughter, and stepped back, bowing respectfully as they passed.

As they entered the main room, Akenon noticed that the stone walls were twice as thick as normal. He looked up at the ceiling and saw it was reinforced with heavy wooden beams.

The treasury chamber
, he thought at the same time he realized there were no windows in the room either.

Eritrius was sitting at a table, poring over a document with interest. When they entered, he got up and walked toward Ariadne, his arms outstretched. He was about fifty-five, with a slender frame discernible under an elegant tunic, grey hair and a long beard that had been meticulously combed. Akenon looked at his open, smiling face and decided he could trust him.

“Greetings, dear Ariadne. How long it’s been since I’ve seen you.”

“Greetings, Eritrius,” she said hastily. “This is Akenon.”

“Welcome to my home, Akenon.” The smile he gave him was so cordial it reminded Akenon that Eritrius was an initiate in the brotherhood. “What can I do for you?”

“We’re looking for Atma,” he replied. “Has he been here?”

Eritrius raised his eyebrows in surprise. He looked at Ariadne, who was also anxiously awaiting his answer, and then back at Akenon.

“Well, yes, he was here a short while ago. He gave me this document.”

He turned away and took a parchment from the table, the document he had been examining when they came in. Its marked creases and tendency to fall back into a folded position showed it had been recently opened after a long period of being folded.

“It’s a will of sorts, Daaruk’s will,” he explained.

“What does it say?” urged Ariadne.

Eritrius took a deep breath and exhaled before replying. It was obvious that the matter made him uncomfortable.

“Well… Basically everything that belonged to Daaruk now goes to Atma.”

Ariadne opened her mouth to reply and then closed it again without saying a word. She was speechless. Though not stipulated by law, the custom was for all property belonging to members of the community to pass to the Pythagorean School after their deaths. In cases where members had family outside the community, at times the belongings were divided between them. What was unprecedented was for someone to leave nothing to the brotherhood. It was all the more shocking when the person in question was a grand master in Pythagoras’ innermost circle.

“Could it be a forgery?” asked Akenon.

“No, no,” replied Eritrius, waving a hand. “The seal is a sufficient guarantee for me that Daaruk is the person who sealed this document. I’ve compared it to a similar one in my possession. Besides, Daaruk told me on a couple of occasions that he trusted Atma implicitly.”

Akenon took the document from the custodian’s hands. From one corner hung the almost intact wax seal, having broken just at its edge when the document was opened. He examined the seal for a few seconds. Then he slipped his hand inside his tunic and pulled out Daaruk’s gold ring. Ariadne was surprised to see it. Akenon held it between the tips of his fingers and placed it over the wax seal. It was a perfect fit. There was no doubt the pentacle had been marked on the wax using Daaruk’s ring.

At that moment, less than a hundred yards away, Atma was closing the deal with Eteocles for his best horse.

“We have to find him as soon as possible.” Akenon left the document on the table and put the ring away. “How long has it been since he left?”

“No more than ten minutes,” answered Eritrius. “In fact, you just missed him. My guards will be able to tell you what direction he took.”

They rushed to the door with Eritrius leading the way. The custodian had the sinking feeling that he had erred in his actions. Now he wanted Atma to be caught as soon as possible.
Could the slave be the murderer?
He would never forgive himself if that was the case and he had helped him escape.

“What did Atma take with him?” asked Ariadne.

Eritrius turned to look at her without slowing his pace.

“He wanted me to give him all the gold I could. I explained that a large part of Daaruk’s estate is invested in trade expeditions and loans to the public treasury. Cashing it all in could take weeks, if not months. There’s also some family property I could arrange to sell, but that would also take time. He interrupted me, insisting he only wanted gold, and he wanted it immediately. I gave him what I had here, which was a considerable amount. I also told him I could get him more in a few hours, as most of the gold and silver I keep is stored in the Temple of Heracles, according to our custom.

Akenon nodded, remembering that Greek tradition. The sacred nature of the temples and the sanctions imposed on anyone who desecrated them meant that in many cities they were used as depositories for the public treasury, and sometimes even for private fortunes. In the case of Croton, the Temple of Heracles was particularly important since it was believed that Heracles had been the founder of the city
.

“Which way did Atma go?” shouted Eritrius at his guards before he reached them.

The guards turned around, startled. They hesitated until finally the younger of the two spoke.

“First he went that way.” He pointed to the right. “I guess he was going to Eteocles’ stables, because soon afterwards he came back on a huge horse, heading toward the north gate.”

Ariadne began to run toward the stables before the guard finished.

“How long ago did you see him on horseback?” asked Akenon.

“Not long at all. A couple of minutes ago at most.”

Ariadne appeared on the mare. Her tunic clung to her body because of the rain, and water dripped from her chin.

“Get on,” she urged.

Akenon went to her and took the reins.

“No. I’ll go alone. It could be dangerous.”

To his surprise, Ariadne pulled a dagger from the folds of her tunic.

“I can be dangerous too. Get on right now or I’m going without you.”

Akenon scrutinized her face. It was clear she would go after Atma on her own if he waited a second longer. He jerked his head at Ariadne for her to make room for him in front, and leapt onto the mare.

A second later, they were galloping through the streets toward the north gate, the mare’s hooves thudding dully against the wet ground. When they reached the city gate, Akenon went to inquire of the guards if they had seen Atma, but Ariadne interrupted him before he could ask.

“There he is!”

A dark dot was moving swiftly along the coastal road toward Sybaris. A small clearing had opened in the clouds and a ray of sunlight shone directly on him. The clouds closed up again and the fugitive disappeared from sight.

Akenon spurred the mare to a gallop. Atma’s horse was faster, but with the rain, he wouldn’t be able to see that he was being pursued.

If he makes a stop, we’ll be upon him
.