Killing Pythagoras (Mediterranean Prize Winner 2015)

by Marcos Chicot

  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 o
f 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.

  “You’ll have a luxurious death,” he whispered, showing it to him. He left it on the ground so his prisoner could see it.

  Akenon kept his head down and avoided looking at the weapon. His breathing was slow and labored.

  “Why didn’t you just poison Orestes?” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

  Daaruk laughed in amusement.

  “Do you think you can delay your death by chatting to me? I’ve already told you no one is coming for you. I’ll be finished loading the mules in less than an hour and then,” he took Akenon’s chin and lifted his face, “then I’ll sink the dagger into your heart.”

  Akenon stared back at him with the only eye he could open.

  “Very well,” continued Daaruk, letting go of Akenon to get more gold. “I’ll consider your questions the final request of a condemned man.”

  The truth was he got satisfaction from answering. The perfection of his plans filled him with a pride he couldn’t confess to anyone else. Besides, his words would torment Akenon.

  “After I got rid of Cleomenides, I realized Pythagoras was considering Orestes as his next choice. At that point, I understood he would never make me his successor, so I started devising a new strategy. Your arrival in the community accelerated things. Before the evidence started to point to me, I faked my own death. That way, I could escape from the community, recover my family’s money through Atma, and use my parents’ old villa, the one we’re in, without anyone coming to bother me. By then, I had already decided I’d kill off all of Pythagoras’ possible successors.” He went out with two bags, returning momentarily. “Killing the candidates was essential to my future, but I didn’t want to limit myself to merely doing away with them. I tried to do it in the most painful way for Pythagoras…to punish him for his blindness and arrogance, you could say.” He paused a moment in front of Akenon. “Don’t you agree that arranging for Orestes to be killed by his colleagues was sublime? And even better, getting Aristomachus to commit suicide thanks to my letter about irrational numbers?”

  Akenon frowned.

  “Well, well,” said Daaruk, “I see Pythagoras has kept the contents of that letter a secret.” He gave a dry little laugh. “I thought he might. You wouldn’t be able to appreciate the problem irrational numbers pose, but the fact that they exist means Pythagoras’ research is based on a mistaken premise. With this discovery, I demolished his mathematical doctrine, just as I divested him of his pathetic successors.” Daaruk couldn’t help smiling with pride. “It must have also been hard for him to accept that I had solved the problem of the quotient, which he had declared had no solution. I had to push myself to the limit to solve it using Pythagoras’ theorem, but it was worth it.”

  When Daaruk left the room again, Akenon slowly shook his head.

  Revenge and power, he thought in disgust.

  Those were his enemy’s two goals. Every step of his macabre plan had served to further both of those objectives. In addition, all his actions had been designed to show his superiority as well as his contempt. He had played with them. He had left his personal stamp on each of his actions, taking for granted that they wouldn’t be able to identify him.

  Akenon suddenly remembered something Ariadne had said. “Sometimes I get the impression that our enemy doesn’t intend to kill my father, but instead wants to make him suffer by destroying everything that matters to him.” Ariadne had been right. Daaruk had done everything he could to take from Pythagoras every essential element of his life—his successors, his political power, his doctrine… But on top of that, after having destroyed everything that mattered to the philosopher, Daaruk wanted to kill Pythagoras.

  Akenon eyed the gold dagger lying on the ground with its tip pointing at him.

  He’s keeping me alive in case he needs to use me as a hostage.

  Daaruk had assured him no one would come before he finished loading the gold, but if he was so sure of that he would already have killed him. Akenon looked toward the door. Daaruk was taking longer than usual.

  Does he have a problem?

  Just then, Daaruk returned.

  “I’m going to start loading the last mule,” he whispered.

  He crossed the room, stopping for a minute to light an oil lamp.

  Akenon noticed the light coming through the open door was fading. It’s getting dark out, he thought, surprised. He didn’t even know how many days he had been there.

  “Do you have other accomplices in the brotherhood?” he asked in a faint voice.

  “That would be stupid. You already know I can get collaborators any time I need to.”

  “Like Cylon,” mused Akenon. “Through him, you controlled the voting at the Council.” He paused to breathe. “You arranged for the Council of a Thousand to make the decision to shelter the aristocrats from Sybaris, knowing it would mean a war with the Sybarite rebels.”

  “I hope you can appreciate the merits of that action,” boasted Daaruk. “If all I’d wanted was to be sure there’d be a war, the easiest thing would have been to imitate the Three Hundred and vote in favor of asylum. However, by abstaining, I killed two birds with one stone: first, I instigated the war, and second, I was later able to accuse the Three Hundred of being the ones responsible for it. After all, they voted for it, while we abstained.”

  Akenon nodded, lost in his thoughts. In spite of himself, he had to admit he was impressed at Daaruk’s ability to manipulate situations.

  “You also controlled the leaders of the rebellion in Sybaris,” he murmured. “You wanted them to rise up against their aristocrats as an indirect way of bringing about the war between Sybaris and Croton…and in the process you asked them to repay your help by allowing you to keep Glaucus’ gold.”

  “Those rebels would have accomplished nothing without me. They were frightened, lacked organization, and they didn’t even have a clear vision of what they wanted.”

  “Would you have preferred them to win the war?”

  “I thought they would win,” admitted Daaruk as he took more gold to the last mule. “I was watching the battle from a hill, ready to join the Sybarite leaders afterwards. I had to make sure that after the battle they would destroy Croton and the community. However, the Sybarite horses started dancing, and the Sybarites were massacred. That was fascinating.” A satisfied smile spread over his face. “Of course, Croton’s victory also fit into my plans. Through the Crotonian army officers I controlled, a significant number of troops obeyed me instead of Milo. I made sure they plundered Sybaris with such brutality that the Council would be quick to lay blame on someone.”

  “And this morning you gave them the person to blame, and convinced them they should set fire to Milo’s house,” grunted Akenon in disgust.

  “It didn’t take much. They wanted to put the blame on someone else. In the end, the key to manipulation is putting men in touch with their deepest desires.” Daaruk looked Akenon straight in the eye with such intensity his prisoner shivered. “And I can assure you, my pathetic Akenon, that the selfish and destructive impuls
es are always the most powerful. It doesn’t take much effort to induce a man to embark on destroying his fellow man.”

  Akenon looked away, taking a while before he spoke again. When he did, his voice was weak, but there was aggression in it, too.

  “Had you also allowed for the possibility that Ariadne might force you to escape from the Council?”

  Daaruk answered without taking any notice of his hostility.

  “As I already told you, that’s just a small setback to my plans. For the past month, I’ve had a boat at the ready. In a few hours, I’ll be out at sea, and within two or three days I’ll have a plan underway to take control of another government.”

  Akenon took a breath and continued questioning.

  “Will you start from scratch or is it something you’ve been working on?”

  “Poor Akenon,” whispered Daaruk, “you’ve always been one step behind me, yet in your final moments you want to know the future. Don’t you realize that such interest is an attempt to cling to a world where you no longer belong?”

  He stopped talking while he took out another two bags.

  “The fourth mule is almost full, we have hardly any time left,” he said when he came back. He went to the hole where the gold was stored and continued to talk while he finished the job. “I suppose you realize the situation in Croton is irreversible. They might free the Three Hundred, but they won’t give them back the power. Besides, the example we’ve set here, where the nucleus of the brotherhood has always been, will encourage political groups opposed to the Pythagoreans in other cities. I’ll infiltrate those groups, just as I did in Croton. I’ll have the Pythagorean politicians expelled from the governments and their communities razed.”

  He went out to load the last bags. When he returned, he went to the table and began collecting the documents, folding them or rolling them up in wooden cylinders.

  “All Magna Graecia will hear what happened in Croton,” said Akenon, his voice hoarse. “Whatever city you go to, you’ll be caught.”

  “I don’t think so.” Daaruk walked past him with his arms full of parchments. “In fact, I think it will be the opposite. I’ll present myself unmasked, saying no one knows Pythagoras better than I do. I’ll tell them I’ve seen the light and I know Pythagoras is the incarnation of evil.” He laughed unpleasantly. “They’ll welcome me with open arms. Open your eyes, Akenon, you already saw how easily I controlled the destinies of Sybaris and Croton. In a few weeks, I’ll have taken control of another city, and within a year I’ll rule over most of Magna Graecia. And, of course, I won’t forget Pythagoras. If he survives today’s injuries, I’ll send so many assassins after him not even the gods will be able to protect him.”