Killing Pythagoras (Mediterranean Prize Winner 2015) (20 page)

CHAPTER 41

April 24
th
, 510 B.C.

It had been two hours since Ariadne and Akenon had set out in pursuit of Atma, and in Croton Pythagoras was facing a difficult challenge. He was about to inaugurate the second session of the Council of a Thousand since Daaruk’s death. The atmosphere in the Assembly was as agitated and disorderly as a marketplace. Cloaked in solemnity, the philosopher crossed the hall toward the stage. The thousand councilors quieted as they realized he was about to address them. By the time he had crossed the room, a thousand faces were following the venerable master’s advance, like a field of sunflowers following the sun.

Pythagoras sensed strong opposition, just as Milo had warned him the previous afternoon. His unease was all the more intense because of the news he had received of Atma’s disappearance as he was leaving the community. The dark omens of recent weeks churned inside him, and he felt they were moving toward a future of blood and fire.

I’ll deal with Atma later, but now I have to focus on the Council. I must be convincing before the flames of rebellion ignite
. He still had the support of the majority. However, his influence was at its lowest ebb in the thirty years since he had arrived in Croton.

He climbed the five steps to the stage and surveyed the audience. Croton’s Council Hall was one of the largest buildings in all of Magna Graecia. The skill of its builders had allowed a thousand people to be seated inside with virtually no visual obstacles from columns. The stone risers along the sides were seven levels high. Between them was a rectangular space measuring twenty by one hundred feet. In the center of the floor was the famous mosaic dedicated to Heracles. It portrayed him predicting the founding of Croton and erecting a statue in honor of Croton, the hero whose name the city would bear, and whom Heracles had killed by accident.

Pythagoras wrapped the edge of his tunic around his left arm while leaving his right free so he could use it to emphasize important points in his speech. He raised it for a few seconds before starting to talk in his deep, commanding voice.

“Councilors of Croton, I know that the decision to bring in a foreign investigator hasn’t met with everyone’s approval.” He needed to be direct and ward off his enemies’ arguments before they could put them forward. “It might seem at this point that Daaruk’s death has proven the opposition right.”

A murmur of agreement spread through the hall.

“However,” he continued more forcefully, “only rumormongers could view it as disrespectful to our police force, or even as careless about the safety of our men. Akenon, the investigator we’ve hired, is highly renowned in his profession. He was in the police force in Egypt, where he was so highly acclaimed that Pharaoh Ahmose II hired him to work personally for him.” Pythagoras kept turning to face the persistent murmurs as if putting out a blaze with his words. “He has spent the past sixteen years in Carthage, winning case after case as an investigator. And we were able to bring him here so quickly because he just happened to be in Sybaris, working for Glaucus.”

He paused to let his last words sink in, noting with satisfaction that there were now stirrings of admiration for Akenon among the murmurs of dissent. Glaucus’ wealth was legendary, far greater than that of any Crotonian magnate. If the affluent Sybarite, who could afford anything he wanted, had chosen Akenon as an investigator, it must be because Akenon was the best.

Now I have to diffuse any distrust I might have caused by leaving the police out of it
. He knew that the most widespread criticisms were those that accused the brotherhood of considering itself above the laws of Croton.

“Akenon…” He waited for silence to be restored in the Council. “Akenon has worked with Croton’s security forces since he arrived. And from this illustrious platform I tell you that we will strengthen that collaboration, with the police force as well as the army.”

He paused again, uneasily gauging the atmosphere among the audience.
Now for the crucial moment
. He had a dramatic twist planned which he hoped would secure his control over the Council. He descende
d
the platform and crossed the hall. The thousand councilors watched him expectantly. Pythagoras stopped when he reached Milo, seated in the front row next to the mosaic of Heracles, and held his arm out to him. The enormous man left his seat and stood beside the master in the middle of the Council.

“General Milo has suggested the army reinforce security in the community.” Murmurs of approval were heard. “Croton’s hoplites will patrol both the surrounding areas and the compound itself. In this way, they will protect the citizens of Croton, my disciples, and your families. Of course I am delighted and grateful to accept the proposal of our army’s commander-in-chief.”

Milo and Pythagoras clasped hands, and the councilors began to clap, hesitantly at first, then with enthusiasm. By presenting the situation as he had, and thanks to some ambiguous rumors that had been spread earlier, it looked as if Pythagoras had reluctantly conceded to something Milo had imposed. Pythagoras’ supporters would think that the army’s intervention had been agreed upon with Milo. His detractors, on the other hand, would think that Pythagoras had bowed to the city’s demands.

Pythagoras bent his head humbly in gratitude. It had been easy, but he had guessed as much when he had noticed, upon entering the Council, that Cylon was nowhere to be seen.

Very clever of him
, he thought uneasily.

Cylon avoided direct confrontations when he knew he couldn’t win. He was as smart as he was devious. He would await the right moment, scheming with unwavering persistence, taking advantage of the fact that he could attend all the Council sessions, whereas Pythagoras’ obligations barely allowed him to attend once a month.

The philosopher paused, observing a group of councilors that didn’t belong to the Three Hundred. Their posture and expressions were stern, as if they wanted to make it clear he hadn’t convinced them. Pythagoras had not expected anything else, since they were Cylon’s staunchest supporters.

Where’s your leader hiding?
he thought as he watched them.
What’s his next move going to be?

CHAPTER 42

April 24
th
, 510 B.C.

Atma was nearing his destination.

He squeezed his eyes shut and then blinked, trying to make out the horizon through the rain.

I still can’t see it
, he thought nervously as he rode on.

Once he had left Croton behind, he had slowed from a gallop to a trot. Moreover, he had dismounted for the uphills, and during the last hour had walked most of the time to conserve the horse’s energy.
Soon he’ll have to make a huge effort
.

The thick dark mantle that extended in all directions overhead was an indication that the rain would continue for a long time yet.
Good. That way I’ll be able to wear a hood without attracting attention
. It would take several weeks for his hair to grow out enough to hide his slave status. In Croton everyone knew him, so he could go about his business as he pleased, undisturbed, but anywhere else he would be taken for a fugitive slave and arrested.

He looked back. He couldn’t see anyone with the reduced visibility of the gloomy morning.

For a while, he went at a trot, keeping his head down to protect himself from the rain. To his left, the vegetation passed like a dark cloud. To his right, the choppy gray sea seemed full of foreboding, like an overarching threat. Despite his hostile surroundings, Atma felt safer with every passing minute. Croton was already far behind him.

The inn materialized before his eyes like an apparition. It was a stone building, two stories high, with a large stable attached to it, where Atma headed first. He dismounted and went in, pulling the horse by the bridle. A youth of about fifteen years of age emerged from the darkness and took the reins, admiring the magnificent animal. Atma went outside again and, making sure the hood covered his head completely, entered the inn.

The innkeeper was coming out of the kitchen just as Atma reached the dining room. She looked suspiciously at that man who wouldn’t pull down his hood. She didn’t like men who hid their faces, least of all today when her husband was in bed with fever.

She approached him resolutely in an effort to inspire respect.

“How can I help you, traveler?”

Atma looked at her a second. The woman was corpulent and flushed. She was carrying a jug in her right arm, letting it swing as if ready to use it as a weapon. Atma avoided her gaze.

“I’m looking for Hippolytus.”

The other hooded man
, thought the innkeeper. She shivered as she remembered the eyes of the man lodged in the room upstairs. They had been the only part of his shadowed face she had been able to discern. She also remembered his voice, a barely audible rasp. After he told her his name, which she assumed to be false, he told her that when a man arrived asking for him she was to send him up at once.

“He’s waiting for you,” she told the newcomer. “He’s upstairs.” She jerked her head toward the stairs. “Just up there, first door on your right.”

Atma lowered his head and hurried toward the stairs. With every step he took he could feel his anxiety increasing. At the top, he stopped outside the door, trying to compose himself, but was unable to. Now that the meeting was finally here, he was swept by intense emotion.

He took a deep breath, paused a second longer, and opened the door.

CHAPTER 43

April 24
th
, 510 B.C.

The rain was relentless. It was cold and they had been riding for a long time, pushing the poor mare to its limits. The situation was in no way pleasant for Akenon…except in one aspect. Since she was sitting behind him, Ariadne was partially protected from the rain, but she was also cold and had wrapped her arms tightly round him. The swaying of the horse pushed Ariadne’s body repeatedly against Akenon’s back. Though it was only an inch or two, it was enough for him to be very conscious of her large breasts.

Oh, Akenon, you’ve been abstinent too long
, he told himself as he tried to ignore the softness pressing into his back.

“There’s the inn!” exclaimed Ariadne, pointing ahead of them.

A form, blurred by the rain, began to take shape as they got closer. It was the same inn where they had lodged when they had traveled from Sybaris to Croton. There wasn’t anywhere else to rest for several leagues, which meant that Atma had probably stopped there. Akenon pulled on the reins. They would walk the last stretch of the journey. When they dismounted, he realized the mare was so exhausted he didn’t have to find a place to tie her up. During the ride they had gotten off at every uphill slope and let her stop for a drink on two occasions, but despite that, the poor animal was at the end of her rope.

They left the road and, for the last few yards, took a path that went around the side of the inn. The only two windows on that wall were closed. Akenon gestured to Ariadne to stay behind him, and peered round the corner.

No one outside
.

He turned to Ariadne and was surprised to see she had unsheathed her knife and was holding it in a defensive position in front of her, like a professional.

“I’d rather go in alone,” he said, knowing what her answer would be.

Ariadne just shook her head and motioned him on.

“Very well.” There was no time for discussions. “Make sure you stay behind me.”

Akenon went round the corner and moved rapidly and stealthily toward the main door. He knew the stables were on the other side of the building, and it would have been useful to check if Atma’s horse was there, but he would have risked detection. The best thing was to assume Atma was inside, and enter the inn as quickly as possible.
He might be with an accomplice
. He wanted to protect Ariadne, but if she knew how to use a knife her help could be vital.

He unsheathed his sword and turned wordlessly to Ariadne to see if she was ready. Her lips were trembling, with cold or fear, but her eyes showed the determination of a wolf defending her cubs.

Akenon leaned his free hand against the door. His idea was to open it gently so as to scan what was happening inside before losing the element of surprise. The wind and rain lashed the inn, reassuring him that no one could have heard their approach.

He looked one last time at Ariadne and pushed the door open.

CHAPTER 44

April 24
th
, 510 B.C.

Atma hesitated on the threshold. He couldn’t see anything inside the room. The only source of light was a window open to the wind and rain.

“Close the door, Atma.”

The slave was startled. The voice was coming from one side of the room. There was someone sitting there with his back to him.

He went in. With the door closed, the wind and rain coming in through the open window diminished. Atma pulled down his hood and a cautious, fearful smile appeared on his face. He took a couple of steps toward the man who continued to sit with his back to him, hooded and motionless. Atma paused uncertainly.

“It’s very cold here, my lord.”

There was no reply. He stood for a long time behind the man he had addressed as lord. His vision, exposed to the light in the common room of the inn, became accustomed to the dark again. There was a bed in the room, which didn’t appear to have been slept in, an empty pot in which for guests to relieve themselves, and two wooden stools. The hooded man was sitting on one of them.

“Are you well, my lord?” he asked in a trembling voice.

“Atma.” The voice was a gravelly whisper. “Sit down beside me.”

The slave did as he was asked. He looked toward his lord, trying to read his mood in his face, but the man’s head was bowed and his hood, pulled far forward, hid his features. The deep, indistinct murmur came again from the shadows of the hood.

“How much gold did you get?”

“Less than we had hoped, my lord,” he replied, trembling. “The custodian says half of it is invested and another part is stored in some temple. Even so, I have a horse in the stables with a decent bag of gold in its saddlebags. More than enough to start another life far from here.”

“Is it a good horse?”

“Excellent,” Atma ventured more hopefully. “It was expensive, but I was able to make the journey from Croton without stopping, and it still has energy enough to take both of us now.”

“Good, good.” The hooded man spoke with unnerving slowness. “Atma, you’ve done everything that was required of you.”

A strange silence descended. The wind howled outside and the rain coming through the window drummed against the sand floor. After a while, the hooded man stood up, making the stool creak several times. He walked around Atma till he was behind him.

The slave could feel his lord’s hands resting on his shoulders. They moved slowly up his neck and began a gentle massage. He closed his eyes, feeling happy, and noticed that the tension built up over the past two days was beginning to ease.

“Are you sure no one followed you?”

“Akenon and Ariadne were watching me while I prepared the funeral pyre, but they didn’t cause me any trouble. After I set fire to the pyre, I managed to give them the slip and spent the night hiding in the woods. This morning I went to Eritrius’ stable as soon as it opened, bought the horse, and left Croton immediately.” The massage was now a caress making its way up his neck, and he experienced a tingle of pleasure. “Even so, my lord, Akenon is clever and obstinate. He’ll be on my trail when he realizes I didn’t spend the night in the community. It’s dangerous for us to delay here.”

Standing over him, the hooded man contemplated Atma’s relaxed face, his closed eyelids and partially open mouth. In spite of his words of urgency, the slave had been lulled by his caresses. He smiled and brought his lips close, brushing Atma’s ear as he whispered.

“Relax, Atma.” The tips of his fingers felt the pulse in the slave’s neck. “You’ll never see Akenon again.”

He pressed a little harder. Utterly relaxed, Atma noticed with pleasure that his exhaustion was melting into sleep. The flow of oxygen to his brain slowly decreased. He rested his head on his lord’s hand, who cradled it gently while continuing to block the flow of blood. The slave instinctively kissed his hand, then fainted. The hooded man increased the pressure. After a couple of instants, Atma’s body convulsed in a final attempt to cling to life. The hooded man held his prey firmly.

Seconds later, Atma’s heart ceased to beat.

The hooded man continued to apply pressure for a while as he considered his next move.
The first thing is to throw that damned Egyptian Akenon off my trail
. He had a hunch that Akenon had followed Atma, which meant he had to leave the inn as soon as possible. He smiled, thinking of the horse and the gold waiting for him in the stables.

He laid Atma’s body on the ground and went to the door. He opened it without a sound and cautiously put his head round it. The innkeeper was talking to someone. A second later, others appeared in his line of sight.

Akenon and Ariadne!

They finished talking to the innkeeper and started up the stairs.

Unseen, the hooded man hastily re-entered his room and unsheathed his sword.