When she was a few yards away, the soldier raised a hand, signaling the woman to stop beside him.
Ariadne spurred the horse and launched herself toward the open doors.
CHAPTER 131
July 29th, 510 B.C.
The masked man stopped mid-sentence, unable to believe his eyes. Ariadne had just burst into the Council hall on horseback. A second later, several hoplites came running in, but she left them behind, riding over the large mosaic of Heracles of Croton. The small tiles scattered like gravel under the horse’s massive hooves.
The councilors shouted in surprise and indignation. Cylon jumped to his feet.
“Detain her!” he shouted, alarmed. Pythagoras’ daughter was heading straight for the dais, looking as though she would hurl herself together with the enormous horse on top of the masked man.
The dais was five feet high. Ariadne stopped the horse at its base, nearly coming face to face with her enemy. Some of the councilors who were closer rushed to create a protective barrier around him. The masked man evaded them, pointed at Ariadne with an accusatory finger, and spoke as loudly as his hoarse, sinister voice allowed.
“This is Pythagoras’ daughter, spawn of the serpent!”
Ariadne pointed at him in turn and shouted, her voice as strong and firm as her father’s. “This man to whom you pay so much attention, who hides behind a mask to carry out his evil designs, is a disciple of Pythagoras!”
Her words caused a universal exclamation of astonishment. She continued, turning vigorously to both sides of the hall.
“He’s a traitor and a criminal who has tried to manipulate you with his dark arts so as to carry out acts unworthy of this Council!”
Ariadne realized the soldiers were about to fall on her. She made her horse turn and prance to keep them at a distance. The masked man tried to talk, but she shouted over him with every last bit of strength in her lungs.
“The man who is standing on the dais of this respectable Council is a grand master, and he’s deceiving you, just as he deceived my father. He was part of my father’s intimate circle up until a few months ago, when he faked his own murder!”
Many councilors fixed their gaze on the man on the dais. Ariadne faced him once more.
“The man hiding behind that black mask…” she pointed at him again, and roared at the top of her voice, “is Daaruk!”
The din in the hall was replaced instantly by a stunned silence. They all knew Daaruk was one of the grand masters who had accompanied Pythagoras until he died of poisoning. They also remembered that his body had been cremated in a funeral pyre, according to the tradition of his foreign culture.
The masked man grunted in rage while everyone watched him in amazement. Even Cylon was paralyzed with suspense. He wanted to stop Ariadne, but it would be political suicide to back the masked man if he really was Daaruk.
The soldiers gave up their attempts to drag Ariadne off her horse. She pulled on the reins and brought the horse around to face her enemy. The sound of its hooves was clearly audible now.
“Kill her.” The masked man’s order was a hoarse caw of hatred. It vibrated for a few seconds in the expectant atmosphere of the hall, then died away when no one reacted.
He hadn’t denied the accusation.
Suddenly, a veteran hoplite who had climbed onto the dais pushed his way through the small knot of men, and seized the masked man from behind. Before anyone could intervene, he grasped the mask at the chin, and pulled it off with a jerk.
All the councilors, the soldiers, and even Ariadne herself were shocked when they saw that face. The dark skin, thick lips, the color of his eyes… There was no question it was Daaruk, but the skin was changed, twisted across the forehead and down the right side, as if it had been burned. Half the mouth and one eyelid were so deformed he couldn’t close them.
Daaruk cast a quick glance around him. He could still try to undo the advantage Ariadne had gained.
“The reason why…”
Ariadne was quick to shout, drowning out Daaruk’s hoarse whisper.
“He planned to take control of the Council, and he isn’t even Greek!”
That sparked an immediate wave of heated protests. The Greeks had a very deep-rooted sense of community. Anyone who wasn’t Greek was considered to be a barbarian, of inferior status.
“I’ll tell you where his hideout is!” shouted Ariadne before Daaruk could answer. “There you’ll find the body of his monstrous slave, and thousands of pounds of gold!”
Ariadne knew Daaruk had acquired much of his influence through bribery. Now she was offering them an incalculable amount of money if they turned against him. She was certain it was the best argument she could use to win over those fickle, corrupt politicians.
But I’m going to give them even more, she thought, trying hard not to let her eyes reveal the contempt she felt for them.
“Do you know how Daaruk got all his gold?!” The councilors were hanging on her every word. No one was paying attention to Daaruk anymore. “He organized the revolt in Sybaris! He helped the revolutionaries in exchange for them allowing him to sack Glaucus’ palace!” The Council roared fervently, and Ariadne continued even more forcefully. “Daaruk deceived, confused, and manipulated the rebels, the governments, and the armies… All the tragic events of recent times have been his doing! He is the one responsible for everything that has happened!”
Surrounded by the deafening uproar, Daaruk realized he had lost the battle. Ariadne had just put forward the definitive argument to make the councilors side with her. The politicians knew that both the people and the army would demand answers, and Ariadne had just given them an explanation that exonerated them of everything…as well as filling their coffers with gold. There was no doubt they would all agree that the person responsible was the evil foreigner.
I have to get out of here. Daaruk looked around like a caged wild animal. The dais had filled with councilors and soldiers who surrounded him on all sides except directly in front of him where Ariadne was, her arm raised, turning her horse as she delivered her diatribe to the Council. At that moment, she had her back to him. In one swift movement, the ex-grand master rushed to the edge of the dais and leapt forward onto the horse’s back, colliding with Ariadne from behind. Shoving Pythagoras’ accursed daughter off, he dug his heels in and set off at a gallop on the high-strung beast.
Ariadne grabbed a councilor’s arm as she toppled over, but ended up on the ground. She lifted her head and saw the soldiers guarding the door step back shamelessly to allow the horse through.
Daaruk crossed the portico like a flash of lightning.
CHAPTER 132
July 29th, 510 B.C.
Akenon’s broken nose prevented him from breathing.
Air could only reach his lungs through his mouth. He felt as if he was drowning when he attempted to swallow. Desperate, he tried to clear his throat, but the pain in his neck made his throat seize up. He felt his body stiffening and panic set in.
I’m suffocating!
He concentrated, using all his willpower, and managed to relax enough for the muscle spasm to abate. Little by little, air began to enter his lungs.
He hadn’t seen the masked man or Boreas since the day they had caught him. Will they be back to torture me, or will they leave me to die a slow death? he wondered in the darkness of his suffering. He had only regained consciousness two hours before, after having been unconscious for three days. He almost wished he could pass out again to be free of that asphyxiating, painful torment.
He was in semidarkness, his arms and legs tied to a chair. The light filtering through the crack under the door indicated it was daytime outside. He lowered his head and whimpered softly. The pain in his neck increased when he moved his head, but he needed to see if he could move his hands. Making a huge effort, he managed to get the tips of his fingers to slide on the armrest. He turned his head, and checked his other hand. His field of vision was reduced. The head-butt Boreas had given him which had
broken his nose had also made the right side of his face swell up so he couldn’t open his eye.
He closed his good eye, and remembered the moment he had realized the masked man’s identity. It had happened while he was walking with Pythagoras in Croton. He had distractedly taken out Daaruk’s ring and suddenly understood that he was the masked man. The revelation paralyzed him for a few moments. As soon as he could react, he had hurriedly taken his leave of Pythagoras and gone to see Eritrius, the custodian, where he asked to be shown a list of Daaruk’s assets. His estate included an old property in the countryside that had belonged to the grand master’s parents, and which had been abandoned for decades. Immediately, he had gone to inspect it.
And Boreas disarmed me as if I were a boy.
Daaruk had removed the metal mask once Akenon was bound. His face, deformed by fire, took Akenon back several months to the day when Atma, Daaruk’s slave, had prepared the funeral pyre for his master. Akenon and Ariadne had witnessed the final phase of the pyre’s construction, as well as the moment Atma set it alight.
But we didn’t see through the hoax.
He wasn’t sure how the farce had been orchestrated, but could imagine most of it. He supposed that on the funeral pyre, contrary to what he and Ariadne had thought, Atma hadn’t used a flammable substance to daub Daaruk’s body and the cloths covering him, but instead, some nonflammable product. Then, he must have poured the oil only on the pyre’s edges, so that the flames would initially surround Daaruk without reaching him completely. The nonflammable substance must have protected Daaruk for a minute or two. He could see now that it had been enough time to allow him to slip into the water and escape, taking advantage of the nocturnal darkness, even though it hadn’t prevented half his face from getting burned. And, considering his voice, it seemed the hot smoke had also burned his throat.
Akenon imagined Atma had probably placed a dead body among the branches of the funeral pyre, underneath Daaruk. The charred bones of that corpse were what Akenon had collected the next day. The deception had been meticulously prepared, to such a level of detail that Atma had even put Daaruk’s ring on the other body.
But he made a mistake, thought Akenon now in the solitude of his captivity.
It was a mistake that had stared him in the face, but which hadn’t registered in his brain until three days ago, when he had distractedly examined Daaruk’s ring. All the times he had seen him, the grand master had been wearing the ring with the pentacle on his right hand.
The body on the pyre was wearing it on its left hand.
CHAPTER 133
July 29th, 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 29th, 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, Hippocr
eon, 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.”
Killing Pythagoras (Mediterranean Prize Winner 2015) Page 57