Killing Pythagoras (Mediterranean Prize Winner 2015) (60 page)

CHAPTER 133

July 29
th
, 510 B.C.

Daaruk stopped his mount high on a hill. With perspiration running down his face, he peered over the dry, dusty ground he had just covered.

No one’s following me
, he thought, relieved.

He spurred the magnificent animal again, anxious to get to his gold and his mathematical documents as soon as possible…
And closer to Akenon
, he thought with an evil smile on his charred lips. Boreas had brutalized the Egyptian so thoroughly, he had been on the verge of killing him. Nevertheless, despite being unconscious for three days, Akenon was still alive.

At least he was the last time I saw him
.

It had been the morning he had gone to the Council to convince them to lock up the Three Hundred and attack the Pythagorean summit. Akenon had been in such bad shape, he wouldn’t be surprised if he had since died.

The wind was making his eyes water, and Daaruk squeezed them shut to clear them. The ground flew by under his horse’s hoofs. In five minutes, he’d be at his parents’ old villa. Akenon had found it through Eritrius, the custodian, but Daaruk figured it would be some time before anyone else followed the same lead. At that moment, the councilors and soldiers would be racing to see who would be the first to reach his other hideout, where Ariadne had been imprisoned.

They all heard there are thousands of pounds of gold there
.

He shook his head incredulously as he rode on. He couldn’t understand how Ariadne had managed to eliminate Boreas. In any case, he had prepared a plan even for such an improbable outcome as this one.

From the beginning, he had been daring, but also prudent. As well as his parents’ old villa, he had bought another isolated house so he could distribute the gold he acquired between the two properties. Additionally, before instigating the war between Sybaris and Croton, he had arranged things so that he would benefit no matter who won. He had also taken the precaution of keeping Akenon and Ariadne separate, so he would always have a hostage he could use to negotiate should anyone find one of his hideouts. His final contingency plan, the one he had hoped he wouldn’t need to use—but which would be very useful today—was the boat he always kept ready to launch in a nearby cove.

I’ll escape by sea and get the situation back on track sooner than anyone could imagine
.

He stopped in front of his hideout, observing it with a critical eye. It was very unlikely anyone would find the villa easily, as it was located in a dense part of the forest and they had camouflaged the building with branches.

Daaruk dismounted and went into a small stable. He led out four mules, brought them to the door of the underground storeroom, and tied them up. He had stored his gold in twenty-pound bags so it would be easy to transport. Calculating quickly, he estimated that he could load the four mules in an hour and a half. If anyone appeared before he had finished, he’d use Akenon as a hostage to secure his escape.

He might still come in handy
.

Daaruk had shown good foresight in forbidding Boreas to kill him. However, once he finished loading the gold, the Egyptian would no longer be useful.

A cruel smile spread over his deformed face as he approached the door.

I’ll enjoy killing him
.

CHAPTER 134

July 29
th
, 510 B.C.

The door to the underground room opened with a creak. Akenon lifted his head, dazed, and looked toward the light.

Daaruk crossed the threshold and approached him, whispering caustically in his burned voice.

“I’m delighted to see you’ve awakened at last.”

Akenon dropped his head on his chest and moaned in reply. The light illuminated him from the side, accentuating his deplorable appearance. Half his face was bruised and deformed from the swelling. A crust of dried blood coated his skin from his smashed nose to his chest.

“Don’t you feel well?” mocked Daaruk, standing in front of him. “Don’t worry. As soon as I finish what I came here to do, I’ll put an end to your suffering.”

Daaruk watched Akenon for a few seconds. His head was still on his chest and his eyes were closed. He moved away from the Egyptian and pushed back the table where the parchments were resting. Then he knelt down, found a ring hidden in the dirt, and pulled it up, opening a trap door. Beneath it was a hole about six feet deep and three feet wide, stuffed with bags of gold. Daaruk took out a couple of them, grunting from the effort, disappeared outside to put them in the mules’ saddlebags, and came back for more.

“This morning I attended the Council and had the Three Hundred apprehended,” he whispered as he passed Akenon. “Then I got the Crotonian army to attack the big Pythagorean convention.” Akenon didn’t open his eyes, but Daaruk realized he was tilting his head slightly to one side. “We set Milo’s house on fire with everyone inside it,” continued Daaruk while he took another couple of bags. “Pythagoras managed to get away alive, but I saw a soldier spear his hip with a lance. With any luck, he should be dead by now.”

He stopped a moment as he walked past Akenon again, uttering his next words with vicious cruelty.

“What I am sure of is that Milo and most of the grand masters of the School are dead. Among them, my old colleagues Hippocreon and Evander.”

Akenon’s face contorted with grief. Daaruk watched him, satisfied, then continued on his way, showing the teeth in his deformed mouth as he grinned.

Akenon moaned, shaking his head slowly.

Evander, Hippocreon, Milo…

Bitter tears rolled down his bloodied face.

Daaruk returned for more bags, talking without slowing his work.

“The day after we captured you, Boreas caught Ariadne. I locked her up at my other hideout—” he paused for a moment, struggling with the weight of the gold— “and this morning I told Boreas he could do whatever he wanted to her.”

He stopped in front of his prisoner, looking for his reaction. Although Akenon’s eyes were still closed, the muscles in his clenched jaws were pronounced. Daaruk grunted with satisfaction and walked away as he finished talking.

“From the way he was looking at her, I suppose the first thing he did was brutally rape her.”

He let his last words resonate in Akenon’s ears, and went outside. The sun was sinking toward the horizon, and all was quiet in the surrounding forest. He placed the gold in the saddlebags of the closest mule, returned to the storeroom, and walked over to the remaining gold, passing Akenon again. He lifted out another two bags and left without a word.

He repeated this process several times, always in silence, until he came in, perspiring, and sat on the ground in front of his prisoner.

“I’m starting to load the second of the four mules I have outside.” He paused to catch his breath before continuing in his unpleasant whisper. “When I’ve loaded all four, it will be time to say our goodbyes.”

Akenon lifted his head very slowly. The half of his face that wasn’t swollen conveyed an expression of deadly hatred. Daaruk stared back, reveling in that look for a while before speaking again.

“Take it easy, Akenon, Ariadne is one of the next things on my agenda, but for now she’s still alive.”

He preferred not to sully the perfection of Akenon’s torment with a lie. The Egyptian was aware he had failed in his commitment to protect the School and catch the murderer. His morale must be crushed, knowing that Pythagoras was seriously wounded, that most of the prominent members of the School were dead…
and that the murderer was free, and about to kill him
.

Akenon’s look of hatred did not soften as Daaruk continued.

“I suppose Boreas must have become distracted while he was raping Ariadne and she must have taken advantage of that to drive a knife into him or something like that. What I can’t understand,” he added pensively, “is how he didn’t have time to rip her apart before he died.” He shrugged and continued, as if sharing a minor annoyance with a friend. “The thing is, Ariadne made an appearance in the middle of the Council session, revealed my identity, and the atmosphere turned, let’s say,
slightly
hostile
.” He snorted as if he found it amusing. “I decided I’d better leave, but I’ll be back soon.”

He got up with an effort and continued loading the gold.

“Ariadne recognized me when she saw my eyes through the mask. You figured it out, I have to give you credit for that. Still, she killed Boreas by herself, whereas you didn’t even manage to give him a scratch. Isn’t that a little humiliating?”

He laughed scornfully as he went outside. A while later, he appeared again and resumed his monologue.

“Ariadne barging into the Council has obliged me to temporarily postpone the second phase of my plans. Fortunately, I had almost completely achieved the goals of the first phase already: finishing off Pythagoras and destroying the brotherhood.”

When he attempted to pick up the next bag, he couldn’t lift it from the ground. He put one hand on his right shoulder.
Boreas would have this done in a minute
, he thought, irritated. While he massaged his shoulder, he kept talking to Akenon in the same friendly tone.

“I’m sure they won’t bother us,” he said, as if Akenon should be happy about that. “Ariadne made the mistake of publicly announcing that I have a fortune in gold in my other hideout. Right now, all of Croton’s army must be searching for that treasure. Besides, I’ve bribed and duped so many soldiers, there’ll always be one to thwart my capture or help me escape. In fact, at the Council I was able to get away thanks to the soldiers who stood aside to let me through.” He brought his burned face close to his prisoner’s. “I’m telling you this to spare you any false hopes.”

Akenon half-opened his good eye and mumbled something.

“What’s that?” asked Daaruk, bringing his ear to Akenon’s mouth.

“How did you fake your death?” repeated Akenon.

Daaruk stood up, smiling.

“Very good, Akenon, very good,” he whispered, so amiably he almost sounded sincere. “It does you honor that you try to satisfy your curiosity even at death’s door. Knowledge is the path, always the true path.” He reflected a few seconds before continuing. “I suppose you must think I ate a cake poisoned with white mandrake root.”

Akenon frowned, not understanding. He remembered Daaruk falling to the ground in front of him, foaming at the mouth. Maybe instead of the poison being in the barley cake, it had been in a capsule Daaruk had hidden—but Akenon had used a reagent and positively identified the poison. As Daaruk said, it was extract of white mandrake root, a powerful toxin which, if taken in sufficient quantity, would kill whoever consumed it in a few seconds. Daaruk should be dead.

“The truth is,” said Daaruk, continuing to load the gold, “the poison was in a piece of barley cake I had hidden and took out without anyone noticing. I used the same poison I had used for Cleomenides because I knew it would be the first thing you’d check. The moment you were sure it was the same, you’d stop thinking about it. However, I had added the antidote to the white mandrake, and swallowed both at the same time.”

Akenon tried to remember. He knew of a few effective antidotes, but it didn’t made sense. He himself had checked Daaruk’s pulse, and there was none.

His enemy smiled proudly.

“The key was in the third component: extract of black mandrake root. The effects it produces are similar to white mandrake, but if the proper dose is taken, it induces a cataleptic state. The heart rate and breathing look like they’ve stopped, yet if the antidote is administered within two days, the person quickly regains his usual vigor.

Akenon was getting an idea of how all the pieces fit together. He inhaled and made an effort to whisper,

“I suppose Atma poured the black mandrake antidote into your mouth before lighting the pyre.”

Daaruk nodded, suddenly somber, and picked up another two bags.

“Atma did you a great service,” continued Akenon. “Did you kill him because he knew your identity?”

The ex-grand master crossed the room and went out without answering. When he returned, his tone was tense.

“I killed him because of that, and because he was weak. He wouldn’t have endured an interrogation.”

“Unlike Crisipo.”

“Crisipo did his duty and killed himself before he could betray me. He was a good servant…” He frowned, adding as if to himself, “Though the best slave imaginable was Boreas. It’ll be hard to replace him.”

Akenon tried to swallow. A stab of pain pierced his parched, inflamed throat, making it almost impossible to breathe.

“What about the first murder, Cleomenides?” he asked, gasping for breath. “Did you do that hoping Pythagoras would pick you as his successor?”

Daaruk dropped the bags and turned to him, his face flushed with anger. It was the first time Akenon had seen him lose control, and he feared he might want to kill him instantly.

“I should have been Pythagoras’ only successor!” Daaruk’s whispering voice was hoarser and more intense than ever. “The blindness of that great posturer condemned them all to death!”

Daaruk relaxed his fists and inhaled deeply to calm himself. He narrowed his eyes, leveling at Akenon a look of pure venom that little by little transformed itself into an evil smile.

You, too, will die because of Pythagoras
.

He picked up the bags and went out. When he returned, his smile was as cynical and cold as ever.

“As I’ve proved to you, my abilities are far superior to those of any grand master, including Pythagoras. Still, he couldn’t see that, and decided to name Cleomenides as his successor. I read it in his eyes before he decided to make it public.” He nodded slightly toward Akenon, acknowledging he had been right in his previous question. “That’s why I had Atma poison the goblet from which Cleomenides would drink.”

“You did all this for revenge?”

Daaruk snorted with contempt.

“Don’t be so shortsighted, Akenon.”

He went out to put the gold in the second mule’s saddlebags. There was no more room, so he started with the third. He led it closer to the door, to save himself a few steps with each load, then looked at the sky. The sun had set, though it was still quite light out.

Revenge…
he said to himself pensively.

He remembered his first years in the School. Back then he had admired Pythagoras and dedicated all his time to enthusiastic study. He had broken the records for excellence by rising rapidly through the different levels, but once he became a grand master, he had begun to hide his discoveries, feeling that what he was contributing far outweighed the knowledge he was receiving. His colleagues offered him nothing, and even Pythagoras no longer imparted to him his secrets, even though he still had some that he was reserving for whoever would be his successor.

I always thought it would be me
, he thought, brooding on the past. He forced himself to control a new surge of anger. Pythagoras’ choice had been humiliating for him, although deep down it hadn’t come as a surprise. Pythagoras knew Daaruk was more competent, but maybe he had also known that for some time he had been concealing many of his discoveries. There was little doubt he had also realized Daaruk didn’t agree with his way of running the School.

Pythagoras has always been a weakling
.

Moderation and messages of cordiality were all very well when political support was being sought, but the time for such behavior was over. The brotherhood should have held on to the control it had over governments where it had some influence with an iron fist. It should have eliminated opposing groups and crushed all democratic ideas. It should have merged armies from different cities and expanded much more quickly, uniting military power with the power of ideas. The brotherhood could have been the springboard for a great kingdom.
My great kingdom
. And if it couldn’t do that, it should have disappeared so as not to interfere with his rise to power as the supreme ruler of a new world.

No, Akenon, it’s not
just
about revenge
.

Before taking the next bags, Daaruk examined a few gold objects.

This will come in handy
. He took a long, sharp, gold dagger that looked like a ceremonial object, and approached Akenon.