CHAPTER 59
June 10th, 510 B.C.
Glaucus’ messenger left the inn.
Akenon watched him pensively from the door. The sun had already set, and the clouds were fading slowly from the fiery red of sunset to a pale gray. He frowned. He had spent all day waiting for Glaucus’ reply, and it hadn’t arrived until sundown.
I have a bad feeling about this.
He cast a last look at the messenger’s back and went into the inn. Two of the soldiers were waiting for orders. The rest still hadn’t returned from the investigations they had been assigned to do.
The sense of impending danger made him think of Ariadne, and he felt a strong protective instinct. All the same, up to now she had proven to be even better at protecting herself than he was.
The events of the previous night went through his mind and he couldn’t help smiling. I didn’t know I was still capable of such feats, he thought, remembering the times they’d done it. The first three had been almost one after the other, slowing slightly between them, though they hadn’t stopped kissing and caressing. Then he had had to lie on his back.
“By Apollo and Aphrodite,” exclaimed Ariadne when he withdrew, “I never dreamed I could experience so much pleasure! Heavens, what I’ve missed out on for so many years! Hurry and recover so we can do it again as soon as possible.”
Seconds later, she began to kiss his neck and chest.
“Hold on, hold on,” Akenon laughed, taking her by the shoulders. “Unless you plan on finishing me off, you’ll have to give me a few minutes to rest.”
Ariadne sat back and contemplated the skin, damp with perspiration, that covered her Egyptian lover’s muscles. The dim light from the oil lamp gave it an unreal sheen. She thought he could be Apollo himself, a darker, burlier version.
Maybe he’s more like a Titan, she thought, kissing his shoulder. He tasted delicious, slightly salty.
Akenon suddenly burst out laughing.
“And to think that when we first met you sent me to piss in the woods the minute I made a move toward you.”
“You were vulgar and presumptuous,” she laughed. “You deserved to be taken down a peg or two. And, anyway, the look on your face was priceless.”
“Didn’t you feel even a bit sorry for me?”
“Not at all,” replied Ariadne. “I’m used to putting people in their place if they try to overstep the boundaries. I know I sometimes come across as arrogant, but it’s not a bad thing given that I’m not married and often have to travel. On the other hand,” she added in a more sober tone, “when that happened, something inside me got blocked. I already told you that my father was able to heal me so I could relate to the world again, but intimacy continued to terrify me and I erected a barrier so that no man could get too close.” She sat up in bed and stroked his cheek. “You’ve freed me from that block. I can’t feel it anymore, and I hope it’s gone forever. In any case,” she continued in a playful tone, “I’ll keep putting all those conceited men who only see me as a potential plaything in their place. Though, fortunately, being Pythagoras’ daughter protects me in the cities where I travel, since they’re all members of the brotherhood.”
“I was pretty shocked when I learned you were his daughter. I promised myself I’d try to think of you from that moment on as Pythagoras’ daughter instead of an irresistible woman.”
Ariadne smiled, appreciating the compliment.
“And what’s happened now?” she purred.
“I suppose being alone with you, far from the community, changes the way I see things. Besides, you have to admit that since we left Croton you’re the one who’s been making advances toward me.”
Ariadne gave a saucy laugh, then drew closer to Akenon and kissed him at length on the lips.
“I realized I liked you and…you excited me. That had never happened to me before. I couldn’t let the opportunity go by.”
She kissed him again, more passionately this time. Akenon slipped his arm around her naked waist and pulled her toward him.
“You’re an incredibly sensual woman. I’m afraid I’ve awakened a wild beast that’ll be the death of me.”
She climbed on top of Akenon and leaned her forearms on his chest.
“I’m a different woman when we’re together, and I love it. Like when we were chasing Atma. I was surprised I felt so bold, as if I’d been chasing criminals my whole life.”
Akenon’s expression clouded with the memory of that day. Ariadne was quick to kiss him, pressing her body against his. Soon she noticed Akenon was responding, and they began the fourth carnal assault of the night.
Akenon pushed those pleasant memories aside and spoke to his hoplites.
“Gelo, Phylacides, we’re leaving at once for Glaucus’ palace.”
The soldiers stood at attention and headed for the exit. Just then, Ariadne appeared.
“What’s going on?” she asked. “Has Glaucus finally sent his answer?”
Akenon hesitated before replying. Ariadne had retired to her room half an hour earlier because of a headache, and Akenon had wondered whether he should call her for the meeting with the Sybarite. He agreed Ariadne could be useful with the enigmatic Glaucus, but on the other hand, he remembered witnessing the Sybarite’s murderous fury, ordering tortures and killings in a fit of insanity. Glaucus might be a Pythagorean, but he’s also unpredictable, and can become very dangerous. Besides, he also remembered the slave Boreas, that inconceivable beast Glaucus used as an executioner. Akenon still shuddered when he recalled the events of that night two months ago. He saw again the huge Thracian crushing the wine servant in front of him with the inhuman strength of his arms. He would never forget the sound of the unfortunate man’s chest as it caved in. That dreadful, blood-curdling, pulpy, cracking noise.
Ariadne noticed Akenon’s hesitation. Suddenly, she felt a stab of pain and resentment that surprised her with its intensity. She tried to hold her tongue until it dissipated, but couldn’t.
“I see you had decided to leave me behind. Maybe you hadn’t noticed Glaucus is a Pythagorean, or that I’m at the master level in the School, and am Pythagoras’ daughter. If anyone can negotiate with him, or put pressure on him, it’s me.”
Akenon looked humbled, shamed by the well-deserved reprimand. Ariadne didn’t want to say anything else, but her irritation kept growing and she couldn’t stop herself.
“What did you think you were doing? Protecting me? What right do you have to make decisions for me? Are you my father, or a husband I luckily don’t have?”
They were standing at the door of the inn. Ariadne had spoken loudly enough to be heard by the soldiers waiting a few feet away. Akenon noticed one of them suppressing a smirk.
“Fine, I’m sorry. It’s true, I was hesitating about whether to call you. I shouldn’t have done that.” He raised his hands in an attempt to appease her.
Ariadne turned around without replying, and went to her room to get the parchments she had brought from the community.
Damn it, she said to herself, feeling her headache getting worse.
She went into the bedroom and pulled the documents from under the bed. As she was about to leave, she paused, disconcerted, and sat down on the straw mattress.
What’s happened to me?
She fixed her gaze on a point on the wall, and began breathing slowly and deeply. She knew the life she led was unheard of for a Greek woman. She enjoyed abundant privileges…in fact, the same privileges as any Greek man. Her independence and freedom were an essential part of her. But she lived in a world of men, and Akenon wasn’t so different from the rest of them, however kind, attractive, or charming he might be.
Damn it! she repeated to herself. She knew the community was an exception, and that in most cities in Greece, women were little more than slaves, people with no rights, subservient to the wishes of their masters. And, from what she knew, in most foreign cities the situation was similar. Why should Akenon be any different?
Still, none
of that justified how she felt. True, his deciding for her as if she were his property, his attempt to leave her on the sidelines, had been a disappointment. But such a strong reaction isn’t typical of me, she told herself, surprised. Even now, with her body completely relaxed, her mind refused to calm down, as if deep inside her, in some place she couldn’t reach, there was an unrelenting, devastating storm.
She would need to resolve that issue some other time. Now they had to go to Glaucus’ palace. She got up from the bed, crossed the inn, and went outside, avoiding eye contact with Akenon.
CHAPTER 60
June 10th, 510 B.C.
Boreas had had his tongue cut out when he was eight years old.
However, he didn’t need it to stay abreast of what was happening in Glaucus’ palace. All the slaves and servants ran to tell him if there was any news. They knew it was what he wanted and they did their best to satisfy his every wish.
Boreas was a mountain of muscles, two feet taller and one hundred fifty pounds heavier than the biggest of them. Even so, that wasn’t what guaranteed everyone’s obedience. They didn’t do his bidding because he was a colossus, but because of what had happened a month after Glaucus bought him.
He was probably only sixteen or seventeen at the time, but had already grown to his present fearsome dimensions. He always kept his distance from the other servants, surveying them without expression. One day, when they had all gotten used to ignoring him, he had begun to give orders through gestures and hoarse grunts. He demanded privileges he wasn’t entitled to, given his youth and the short time he had spent in the palace. One of the most senior servants laughed at him and treated him contemptuously in front of a large group of slaves. Some of them feared the worst, but nothing happened. Boreas withdrew in silence.
That same night, the veteran servant awoke with a start when he felt someone yank the blanket off him. The communal sleeping quarters weren’t dark, as was usual at that hour, but illuminated by two oil lamps. Several men were beginning to sit up on their mats, barely awake and as disconcerted as the servant. At the foot of his mat was Boreas, his head bent so as not to hit the ceiling. By the neck he held a fragile, chubby teenage slave whose eyes, filled with terror, darted in every direction. When the servant looked at him, Boreas lifted the slave high into the air. The boy kicked while Boreas held him with one arm. Another young slave screamed for the boy to be released and jumped at Boreas’ arm to grab it. With no apparent effort, the giant kept his arm outstretched, the two youths dangling from it.
As the chubby teenager’s faced turned blue and his companion screamed, Boreas turned to the other slaves. In his cold, intense gaze was a very clear message. When his victim stopped moving, he flung him onto the old servant who had laughed at him and returned to his room without looking back. A short while later, he was asleep as if nothing had happened.
Glaucus had summoned him the following morning as soon as he learned about the incident. As Boreas had suspected, there was no more than a reprimand. The slave he had killed was named Erilao, and Glaucus valued him so little he had intended to sell him a week later to the highest bidder, if only for a drachma. Erilao had been the perfect choice for his cautionary demonstration, another sign of Boreas’ depraved intelligence, which did not go unnoticed by Glaucus’ staff or Glaucus himself. Boreas was still a slave, but among the servants he had acquired the status of a god. Powerful, astute, and menacing.
As for Glaucus, a few days later he made Boreas his most trusted slave.
Boreas was hiding, waiting for Akenon’s arrival.
He had been notified an hour ago of the Egyptian’s imminent return to the palace. Immediately, he stationed himself in a guest room with a window overlooking the main courtyard. On the other side of the courtyard he could see the entryway through which Akenon would appear at any moment.
The proximity of the Egyptian investigator brought back memories of the last time he had been able to satisfy his sadistic instincts. He enjoyed killing, but Glaucus had absolutely forbidden it except at his command. That night two months ago he had felt free, like a lion caged too long. Crushing Thessalus, the wine servant, had been pleasant, but the best was having Yaco, Glaucus’ adolescent lover, completely at his mercy. Glaucus had ordered him to disfigure the boy with a red-hot iron, and Boreas had meticulously carried out his orders, but then he had allowed himself some extra license.
He smiled malevolently at the memory. Young Yaco, who had been so beautiful a few minutes earlier, twisted in agony on the sand floor. Naked, he brought his hands to his face and squealed like a dying animal. The sweet scent of his burnt flesh floated in the air. Then Boreas placed him on a table, holding him down with one enormous hand so he couldn’t escape, and continued to torture the parts of his body that would be covered by his tunic.
Yaco was on the verge of death, but Boreas had taken care to keep him alive. He knew Glaucus would regret his decision to have Yaco chained to an oar and sent off to sea. He was also sure the Sybarite would question anyone who had seen him after the torture, even though it would only serve to torment him, and they would be able to tell him the teenager was disfigured but alive, with no other apparent injuries. In any case, Boreas covered his back. He placed Yaco on a ship that would take at least a month to return. In addition, he bribed the man in charge of the oarsmen to be hard enough on Yaco to cause his death within a week. Mortality rates were high among oarsmen, and Yaco was so unequal to the task no one would suspect a thing.
It had been a sublime night, but that wasn’t usually the case. Boreas felt he was wilting under the restrictions his master imposed on him. That magical night, for example, Boreas had counted on Glaucus also letting him kill Akenon. After all, the Egyptian had uncovered the forbidden relationship between Yaco and Thessalus. It wasn’t infrequent that the anger caused by bad news ended the messenger’s life.
Boreas’ expectations weren’t met, and the following morning he had had to let Akenon leave with his reward. When the Egyptian had crossed the courtyard in front of him, leading his mule loaded with silver, Boreas could smell his fear. Before Akenon had gone out, their eyes had met one last time, and Boreas had spoken to him wordlessly.
Your gods have protected you, Akenon. You won’t be so lucky next time.
The inner entrance to the palace, a double door made of wood reinforced with bronze, swung slowly open. Boreas leaned against the window ledge and sharpened his eyes.
Akenon, we meet again, he thought avidly as soon as he caught sight of the Egyptian’s face.
A couple of soldiers from Croton also entered and someone else…whom he couldn’t yet see because the person was hidden behind the statue of Apollo. One of Glaucus’ secretaries came out to receive them. After exchanging a few words, the soldiers stayed at their post, and Akenon stepped forward with his companion, who Boreas now saw.
It’s a woman!
Boreas’ eyes narrowed and he grunted, showing his eyeteeth. He ran to another window to get a closer look at the light-haired woman. In his mouth, the stump of his tongue moved like a hungry animal. From that moment on, the most ardent desire of his demented mind was to have Ariadne at his mercy.
CHAPTER 61
June 10th, 510 B.C.
Eurybates, a veteran master of the Pythagorean School, finished the commentary on the reading for that evening. While the attendees retired to their bedrooms, he went outside. He folded his arms and inspected the darkness that enveloped the Crotonian community, concerned.
Where can Pelias be?
Pelias was one of the disciples in his charge. The most brilliant, without question, outstanding in mathematics, and so charismatic and persuasive his peers were in awe. Lower-level students were literally spellbound by him. He had just achieved the level of master and had gone to Croton that afternoon with a group of students, entrusted with a simple mission: to deliver a message to one of the members of the Council of Three Hundred. Pelias had requested permission to go for a walk around Croton afterwards wi
th the group, since he wanted to share some observations with them on the virtues of a Pythagorean society.
Eurybates was pleased by Pelias’ pedagogical zeal, and agreed to his request as long as they returned before dinner. However, neither Pelias nor the six students accompanying him had appeared at dinner or the reading afterwards.
I’m going to raise the alarm, Eurybates decided, walking toward the closest hoplites on patrol.
Halfway there he stopped, disturbed by a commotion at the entrance to the compound. A moment later, the commotion came toward him. In the midst of the confusion, he thought he could make out Pelias’ voice, which sounded shaken. Eurybates hurried toward him, relieved the disciples had come back, but uneasy over the alarm he detected in his disciple’s exclamations.
“Eurybates!” shouted Pelias when he recognized him. “Thanks to the gods I’ve found you.”
“Calm down, brother,” replied Eurybates, taking Pelias by the arm. He was displeased that his disciple was showing so little decorum, though he could see such horror in his eyes that he held his tongue and waited to hear his explanation.
“Master, it’s terrible, terrible.” Anguish made Pelias’ voice crack. Before continuing, he looked suspiciously at the soldiers who had approached them and lowered his voice. “We have to talk in private. Right now!”
The six students followed close behind, pale and unable to take their anxious eyes off Pelias. They hurried in silence to one of the large communal houses where both of them lived. The hoplites patrolled the perimeter and the interior of the compound, but they were instructed not to enter the buildings unless requested to do so.
Killing Pythagoras (Mediterranean Prize Winner 2015) Page 27