Killing Pythagoras (Mediterranean Prize Winner 2015) (39 page)

CHAPTER 83

July 4
th
, 510 B.C.

Theano went to the house where she lived with Pythagoras to get a parchment for that evening’s reading with her disciples. With her usual elegant gait, she crossed the inner courtyard and went into her room, lighting the way with an oil lamp. As she crossed the courtyard, she didn’t notice that the door to the pantry was ajar.

Behind her, a pair of eyes anxiously followed her every move.

A minute later, she emerged from the room, made her way back across the courtyard, and out into the balmy night of the compound. The person hiding in the pantry waited a while before coming out of hiding. Out in the open, the rays of the waning moon revealed that it was Ariadne.

Almost on tiptoe, Ariadne hurried to her mother’s room. She looked behind her, took a deep breath, and went in, closing the door. Inside, the room was illuminated only by the moonlight that filtered through the window. It was enough for her purposes.

She knew her mother’s room well. It was furnished with a wooden-framed bed, a beautiful chest with delicate carvings that had belonged to her family, a chair, and a table that was always covered with parchments.

Ariadne cast a quick eye over the documents on the table, with little hope of finding what she was looking for there. Then she began to pull parchments from under the bed. There were also rolls of papyrus wound around wooden rods, with knobs at each end. She took them to the window and unrolled them to examine them.

One by one, she discarded them.

I have to find it
, she thought, agitated.
I’m sure she has it here
.

When she had gone through all the documents, she put them under the bed again. Placing her hands on her hips, she bit her bottom lip as she scanned the room.

The only place left is the chest
.

She rushed to the container, hurriedly opened the lid, and looked inside. At first glance there were only clothes. She rummaged around, pushing garments aside until she reached the bottom. There, she thought she could feel the texture of parchment. She carefully pulled two documents out.

She ran to the window. The first was a treatise on the golden section. Her eyes flew to the second one. She was nervous because she had already spent more time there than she intended.

Eureka!

The document was exactly what she had been hoping to find.

Her enthusiasm vanished in an instant.
Now the consequences must be faced
, she thought, tightening her jaw. She replaced the treatise on the golden section in the chest, leaving everything else as she thought she had found it, and stealthily left the room.

The parchment hidden under her clothing would clarify an important question.

CHAPTER 84

July 5
th
, 510 B.C.

“There’s another one. Do you recognize him?” whispered Akenon.

Ariadne leaned forward and squinted, straining her eyes. They were on the second floor of Hyperion’s home. Hyperion, the late Cleomenides’ father, was the member of the Council of Three Hundred who lived closest to Cylon, in the wealthiest district of Croton. He had willingly accepted their request to allow them to watch Cylon from a window in his residence.

“That’s Hippodamus,” replied Ariadne, identifying the man who had just come out of the Crotonian politician’s mansion. “He’s always been a supporter of Cylon’s.”

Akenon nodded, and they continued to keep watch in silence.

When they had left Sybaris two days earlier, Glaucus had given them a copy of the method for calculating the approximation to the quotient. When Pythagoras analyzed the method, he confirmed it would have been impossible for Cylon to have discovered it. Even so, Akenon had decided to intensify his vigilance of the Crotonian politician. Maybe Cylon wasn’t the masked enemy but, thanks to the coins taken from the Council secretary, they knew Glaucus’ gold was behind the proliferation of bribes the politician was paying.

Cylon is paying bribes with the gold the masked man received from Glaucus
. The politician had a direct relationship with the masked man, and could therefore be the best way to reach him.

The door to Cylon’s mansion opened again.

“I can’t see their faces,” whispered Ariadne.

From the partially opened door, two hooded figures had emerged. Heads bowed, they set off rapidly into the dark streets together.

Maybe they’re new converts
, thought Ariadne. Cylon’s old allies didn’t hide their faces, unconcerned about others seeing them meeting the influential politician. However, the councilors who had recently entered Cylon’s orbit preferred to hide. Cylon was still in the minority, a rebel against the established regime. Besides, it was an open secret that the new recruits had offered him their loyalty in exchange for bags full of gold. Criticism of those who jumped on his bandwagon was scathing…which did nothing to prevent the trickle of conversions from continuing at a steady pace.

Ariadne stopped thinking about that when she remembered the parchment she had taken from her mother’s house the previous day. She couldn’t help thinking of it constantly.

Maybe I should share it with Akenon…

She looked at him and hesitated, as she’d been doing since she read it. Finally, she decided not to reveal the secret yet.

But I won’t be able to keep it hidden much longer
, she worried.

Just forty yards away from Akenon and Ariadne, sitting in the main room of Cylon’s mansion, the masked man watched the last few councilors leave. He closed his eyes and reflected on the meeting that had ended a few moments ago.

We now have another two councilors, but the progress we’re making is too slow
.

He was a little frustrated. In spite of the amount of gold he’d spent, the pace at which politicians were joining his side had slowed too much. He converted everyone he spent time with alone, but he depended on Cylon to make contact with new councilors. Cylon’s ability to attract politicians to his house was dwindling, and it was still too soon for him to appear in public.

The time had come to take a different course of action. The work with Cylon was indispensable and would continue to develop, but he needed more, much more.

He opened his eyes and smiled with resolve.

Tomorrow I’ll focus on something completely different
.

Akenon was watching Cylon’s mansion with a frown. He stood a step away from the window, hidden among the shadows. He could sense Ariadne behind him. After the last trip to Sybaris, he had thought something might yet develop between them. The signs that she was ready to open up again had seemed obvious: a look held a moment longer than necessary, a silent smile, the warm tone in her voice…

I was wrong
, he thought, slowly shaking his head.

The previous day, when he’d been trying to find the right moment to start a more personal conversation, he noticed there had been another change. She had become cold again, her eyes elusive, and she said very little, avoiding his attempts to converse.

I suppose she figured out my intentions
.

He had been too optimistic. Every time he tried to get closer to Ariadne, she withdrew.

He shook his head again as he watched. After a minute, another person came out of the mansion.

“Is that Kallo?” he whispered, turning slightly toward Ariadne.

She was startled and looked toward Cylon’s house. Kallo had just exited and was leaving with two bodyguards.

“Yes, that’s him.”

The street became empty again. Almost everyone must have come out by then.

Ariadne stayed a step behind Akenon, from where she could shift her gaze slightly and observe him without being noticed. She could run her eyes over his strong, serious profile, his straight nose, those dark, desirable lips that had kissed her entire body…

She clenched her teeth and looked away.

Akenon must think I’ve become distant with him again as a reaction to his efforts to get closer
.

There was no way he could know that the reason she was so withdrawn was because of her mother’s parchment. That was now her main worry.
And this time I can’t even talk to my father about it.

She took a step back in the darkness of the room. Now she could only see Akenon’s back, his impressive silhouette outlined against the window frame.

She had never felt so alone.

CHAPTER 85

July 7
th
, 510 B.C.

Crisipo finished his speech and held his breath.

One second later, he was inundated with a round of enthusiastic applause and cheering in the auditorium.

By Ares, that was a terrible experience!

He breathed a sigh of relief and noticed that the tension in his muscles was easing. Speaking in public was a nightmare for him, but it was part of his new duties. On the other hand, he was proud to be a key player in his masked master’s grandiose plan.

A plan which will change the world
, he said to himself, elated.

Everything had started three weeks earlier, when he had accompanied the masked man to Sybaris to claim Glaucus’ prize. As well as going to the Sybarite’s palace, the masked man and he had spent a few days covering the city on foot. They had visited inns, marketplaces, town squares…anywhere people gathered. The masked man observed everyone silently, signaling to Crisipo now and again.

“Him,” he’d whisper in his ear.

Crisipo would approach the person, tell him he was from out of town and needed certain information, and invite him for a drink in exchange for his time. Many were suspicious, but then Crisipo was quick to add a drachma to the offer, and that was enough for them to accompany him.

When they arrived at the nearest tavern, the masked man would already be sitting in a corner. From there, he would observe Crisipo’s conversation with the stranger. On the surface, their discussion was of no importance, but it contained key phrases. Depending on the stranger’s reaction to them, the masked man would either approach the table or not. Whenever he joined them, Crisipo would stop talking and the masked man would cast the spell of his whispered words over the stranger. Some minutes later, the man would leave the inn with a few coins tucked away and a mission: the next day he would meet them again, bringing with him whoever he thought would share the ideas they had spoken about.

By the time they set sail from Sybaris, they had spoken to more than a hundred people. As he said goodbye to each group, the masked man told them he’d be back in a few days.

His plans, however, were different.

“I have to concentrate on Croton, so it won’t be me going back to Sybaris, but you, Crisipo,” he told him when the ship left port.

“Me, master?” Crisipo was startled. “But… I wouldn’t know what to say to those men. I won’t be capable of convincing them, they won’t listen to me.”

“They’ll listen, Crisipo, they’ll listen,” the cavernous voice whispered.

He continued talking, very slowly, and his words etched themselves in Crisipo’s mind. An hour later, the ex-soldier from Croton felt more confident. Now he knew what he’d say to the men who would gather to listen to him and, above all, he knew how he’d say it. Besides, those men would flock to him because they agreed with the general idea behind what they were going to hear. The task was to kindle a flame that already burned deep inside them, and to make them see the masked man—temporarily through Crisipo—as the leader they needed.

When they had reached the new lair, after the monstrous Boreas had destroyed the ship’s crew, the masked man had handed Crisipo a small bag of gold coins. He was to give one coin to each group leader who, in turn, was to distribute the money among his men. Crisipo returned to Sybaris and spent a week holding small meetings. The attendees always reacted as the masked man had predicted. When he got back to the hideout, his master gave him another bag of gold with the same instructions to keep fanning the flames of his ideas.

The high point of that second week had been the clandestine meeting that had just ended. Crisipo had managed to gather more than a hundred people in a warehouse at the port, the highest attendance yet, and the reason he had been so nervous.

He observed his audience who after his speech had congregated in small groups to discuss the topic further, and smiled with satisfaction.

We’re making faster progress than my master expected.

The following day, he would return to the hideout, happy to be bringing good news. He imagined there would be another, similar task awaiting him.

What he didn’t know was that his master’s plan had just changed course radically.