Daaruk disappeared with the parchments, and Akenon was left staring at the open door. It was almost completely dark outside. The master assassin returned quickly, this time closing the door behind him.
Akenon looked at the gold dagger pointing at him from the ground, his heart pounding. The time has come. Daaruk walked toward him, but kept going until he was standing in front of a large bronze mirror. The top rim of the frame was decorated with a figure of Cerberus, the monstrous three-headed dog that guarded the entrance to the underworld. Daaruk drew closer until he was only inches from the polished surface and became absorbed in the contemplation of his burned face.
“There was another reason I had to kill Atma,” he slowly whispered through his damaged throat.
The echo of those words dissolved in the strained atmosphere of the underground room. Akenon could only see Daaruk’s back, lit by the oil lamp on the table. He tried to swallow, and suppressed a cry of pain.
Daaruk turned.
“I’m sure I suffered these burns because Atma got nervous and didn’t do his job properly on my funeral pyre.”
Slowly he drew closer to Akenon, his deformed face tense.
“And I think,” he continued whispering, “that the reason Atma became anxious and didn’t protect me sufficiently from the fire was because you were watching him.”
He bent down wearily and picked up the gold dagger. Running a finger along its blade, he looked at Akenon. His prisoner was gaunt from dehydration and suffering. His neck and half his face were one enormous bruise covered in dried blood. He looked pathetic, but the only thing Daaruk felt was hatred.
“Anything else you want to ask before you die?”
“No.”
The confidence of that reply irritated Daaruk, who would have preferred Akenon to beg. He looked him in the eye for a few seconds. Suddenly, he drew his arm back and, using all his strength, plunged the dagger toward his prisoner’s heart.
The blow hit its target, causing excruciating pain.
CHAPTER 135
July 29th, 510 B.C.
There was a great upheaval at the Council after Daaruk’s escape. Ariadne was still on the ground, flung off her horse by the master assassin, when Cylon raised his voice in an attempt to control a situation that was threatening to become dangerous for him.
“I didn’t know who the masked man was!” he declared, surrounded by inquisitorial stares. “He deceived me the same as all of you!”
Councilors and soldiers alike stared at Cylon, but they also looked at each other warily. Cylon knew it would be easier to manipulate them while they were disconcerted, before they came to a decision. He raised his arms, turning to the left and the right, as if to show them the naked integrity of his soul. His voice was firmer and more sincere than ever.
“I swear to you by all the gods I didn’t know who he was and I’ve always acted in the best interests of the city!”
Resorting to oaths might have been simplistic, but it usually had the desired effect. He continued tirelessly proffering oaths while he discreetly observed the men on the grandstands, the floor and the dais. When he was sure he had everyone’s attention, he unveiled his strongest argument.
“We must look to the future, and the first thing we must do is seize all of the accursed Daaruk’s gold!”
He sensed the tension beginning to lessen.
“Ariadne has revealed to us that Daaruk has thousands of pounds of gold hidden away. Now we know where that gold is, and we must prevent Daaruk from retrieving it.”
The councilors’ expressions relaxed as they visualized thousands of pounds of gold.
Thanks to the gods. Cylon breathed a sigh of relief, sensing that the hostility in the air had almost disappeared.
At that moment, like an icy wind creeping up his tunic, Ariadne’s firm voice shook him.
“I’ll tell you how to reach the place where you’ll find Boreas’ body and the gold.”
Cylon turned to Ariadne. She was standing in the middle of the hall, looking at him with an unreadable expression.
She’s going to reveal the location of the gold in exchange for my head, thought Cylon in horror.
Everyone present directed their attention to Ariadne. To Cylon’s surprise, she looked away from him and for the next few minutes simply explained how to reach Daaruk’s hideout.
“As I’m sure you can understand,” added Ariadne when she had finished giving the directions, “I don’t want to go back to that place, but you’ll find it easily.”
Some of the councilors knew that remote area well, and had identified the house she was talking about.
“It’s the villa that used to belong to Hipsicreon,” one of the councilors pointed out, “the slave merchant who died last year. I know exactly where it is.”
Cylon hurried to take center stage again.
“Very well, in that case you can lead us there. Let’s get going.”
Cylon was as surprised as he was delighted. Ariadne, who had so skillfully intervened against Daaruk, now seemed more interested in leaving the Council than trying to turn it against him.
They all began moving en masse. Ariadne took advantage of this to slip like a cat toward the exit.
I haven’t forgotten about you, Cylon, but I have another priority right now.
As she was about to go out, shouts erupted.
The men closest to the doors moved back in horror. Fear spread through the hall, and Ariadne instinctively joined the withdrawing horde, looking behind her in alarm as she ran. Through the open doors, General Polydamantus, Milo’s most loyal officer, entered. Behind him, like a river that has overflowed its banks, dozens of hoplites stormed in.
Beyond the doors thousands of agitated soldiers swarmed.
It had all started some hours earlier. A number of loyal hoplites had gone to the forest to retrieve the body, riddled with stab wounds, of Milo, their commander-in-chief and hero of Croton. They had adorned the body with their leader’s laurel and olive wreaths and taken it to the temple of Heracles. Once word got around that Milo had died, all the soldiers faithful to him came to pay their respects. Little by little, they learned that Cylon and a masked man had organized the expedition to Milo’s house with troops loyal to them, behind the backs of the rest of the army. A couple of hours later, General Polydamantus had announced that he and whoever wished to join him would go to the Council to arrest those responsible. The countless troops gathered around the temple of Heracles had followed him as one.
Terrified at seeing a torrent of soldiers bursting through the Council doors, the politicians ran until they were squeezed together at the other end of the large hall, where they jostled each other to avoid being in the front row.
General Polydamantus advanced a few steps and unsheathed his sword. An impending sense of death filled the hall.
“Councilors, hand over at once whoever is responsible for Milo’s death.”
The general already knew Cylon was behind it. He also knew the politician had the support of many members of the Council, but he didn’t wish to eviscerate Croton’s governing body. His intention was simply to dig out the rotten elements and punish the mastermind behind those crimes.
The councilors understood immediately that Polydamantus’ target was Cylon. All eyes turned to him, and those nearest backed away, as if trying to avoid being contaminated by his guilt.
Cylon saw a wide passageway opening up between himself and General Polydamantus. He tried to slip away among his party members, but they pushed him toward the soldiers without a moment’s hesitation. He looked at the general across the open space and understood he needed to use the full power of his rhetorical skills as quickly as possible. He walked toward Polydamantus, hands outstretched, his face the image of sincerity.
“Let us not be the victims of another hoax,” he remonstrated vehemently. “I’m the first to lament the death of our glorious Milo, the man who has brought so much honor to our beloved city…”
Ariadne was pressed
against the wall, gradually sliding along it toward the doors, but at that she stopped, clenching her fists. She was torn between her urgent need to leave and her desire to intervene to make sure Cylon didn’t get away unscathed.
There was no need for her to act. Polydamantus looked at Cylon with contempt, paying no heed to his words, and turned to the hoplites.
“Chain him and throw him into the deepest part of the dungeon. Give him no food or water.”
He approached Cylon and spoke in disgust.
“Tomorrow you’ll stand trial in a military court. We’ll decide there how to execute you.”
Ariadne felt a dark joy as she watched the scene. Cylon tried to escape, but many hands caught him in an iron grip, pulling him savagely toward the exit. He squirmed violently, shouting threats, followed by entreaties. The remaining councilors held their tongues in cowardly silence as the throng of soldiers surrounded Cylon, covering him in insults and spittle.
When the tumult around Cylon had faded into the distance, the rest of the politicians rushed to obsequiously inform Polydamantus and the rest of the army of the fabulous treasure that awaited them in an unguarded hideout. A noisy debate instantly ensued, as they tried to organize the expedition in search of Daaruk’s gold. All wanted to secure a good portion of the booty for themselves. After a long discussion, General Polydamantus, making use of his current position of strength, decreed that half the gold would go to the military, a quarter to the politicians, and the remaining quarter to the city treasury.
Ariadne slipped out of the Council during the discussion about the gold, and went down the steps of the building, anxiously looking into all the soldiers’ faces. Finally she recognized a cavalry officer who was an initiate in the brotherhood.
“Arquelao, thanks to the gods,” she said in distress. “I’ve just heard that Milo’s house was attacked during our School’s summit. Do you know if anyone else was killed, apart from Milo? Do you know if my father…”
Her voice broke, and Arquelao was quick to reply.
“Your father escaped, but he’s injured, I think gravely. The rest… Nearly everyone was killed, including Hippocreon and Evander.”
Ariadne felt every hair on her body stand on end. She couldn’t move, unable for a moment to take in the magnitude of the tragedy.
“I need…” She was so stunned she had to make an effort to remember her most pressing objective. “I need you to give me a mount and a sword.”
Without asking questions, Arquelao handed her his sword and his own horse. Ariadne took the reins and mounted clumsily, still shaken. She dug her heels in and galloped out of Croton.
CHAPTER 136
July 29th, 510 B.C.
The impact made him pass out for a few moments.
When he regained consciousness, in the middle of the underground room, he noticed his mouth was full of blood. He tried to spit it out, but could barely move his lips and a thick stream of blood gushed over his chin.
What happened?
Daaruk opened his eyes and lifted his head. Akenon was standing in front of him, rubbing the fist he had used to hit him.
How did he untie himself?! Icy terror filled Daaruk. Akenon stepped toward him and kicked him in the pit of his stomach.
“Surprised, Daaruk?” He kicked him hard in the ribs. “My bonds have been loose for hours.” He kicked him again in the stomach. “Since Ariadne untied them, to be precise.”
Ariadne?! Daaruk raised his head toward his enemy, his eyes wide open.
Akenon unleashed a vicious kick into Daaruk’s face. The murderer’s nose cracked and began dripping blood. Akenon bent over, leaning his hands on his knees to catch his breath.
“When Ariadne killed Boreas,” he said breathlessly, “the first thing she did was go to Eritrius. She asked the custodian about your properties. She found out this villa belonged to your family and rushed here in the hope of finding me alive, even though you had told her I was dead.”
Daaruk writhed on the ground, moaning with pain and anger. His face was covered in blood, and he could hardly breathe. Akenon stood up, but felt dizzy, and lowered his head again. He inhaled deeply a few times and continued talking, knowing his words would hurt Daaruk as much as his blows.
“After she freed me, Ariadne ran to the Council to expose you. Eritrius had told her you had been seen there in the morning. Nevertheless, we decided I should stay here.” He lifted his face and smiled with contempt at Daaruk’s rage. “We knew that if we detained you in Croton, corrupt soldiers would eventually release you. Our intention was for you to escape from the Council so we could catch you where no one could help you. That’s why I stayed behind. If I had appeared, you wouldn’t have come to this hideout. However, when you only saw Ariadne, you thought you still had a safe place here.”
Daaruk’s blood boiled at the humiliation of having fallen into that trap. Even so, he made a supreme effort to clear his mind. He managed to concentrate, and from the ground he discreetly considered his rival. The brawny Egyptian was much stronger than he was, but he was wounded and had spent three days unable to move, without food or water.
The swine made me think he was in worse condition, but the truth is he can barely stand up, he thought hopefully.
The dagger was on the ground, a few steps away. Daaruk moved his body little by little until he was in a position from which he could push himself quickly toward the weapon. Then he remained immobile, concentrating on Akenon. He could tell from his voice that the Egyptian’s mind was blunted by exhaustion. Akenon’s strength was at its limit.
But I’m also injured. I must attack him before he can kick me again.
He looked into Akenon’s face. When their eyes met, he channeled all his power through his gaze in an attempt to immobilize him.
Akenon felt a strong pressure inside his head and fell silent. He saw Daaruk make a grab for the gold dagger without taking his eyes off him. The murderer gripped the handle and leapt at him, raising the weapon.
Akenon grunted, clenched his teeth and smashed his fist into Daaruk’s bloody face. Instantly, the oppressive feeling in his head stopped. Daaruk dropped the dagger, screaming in pain, and fell backwards, holding his face in both hands. The punch had demolished his already-broken nose. He curled up into a ball as Akenon spoke again.
“Daaruk, you’ve been successful for too long, and that makes you underestimate your enemies. Your excessive arrogance prevented you today from realizing you were one step behind.” He bent down to pick up the dagger and hurled it to the other end of the room. “You did exactly what we wanted you to do. Do you know why I didn’t attack you the moment you returned from the Council? I needed you to give me information, and I knew I wouldn’t have been able to force it out of you. I had to know if you had accomplices infiltrating the brotherhood, or if there was some scheme in place that could go forward without you. You have a supernatural ability to get others to obey you, but all I needed to do was appeal to your stupid, inflated ego for you to tell me everything I wanted to know.”
Daaruk raised himself on one hand, blind with rage and frustration, aware that everything his enemy said was true. How could a simple Egyptian investigator, and a—a woman!—have possibly tricked him, who was at the same level as the gods? He raised a finger toward Akenon, speaking in a cavernous whisper that burned with contempt and fury.
“You repugnant Egyptian, unworthy even of the privilege of looking at me, don’t you dare…”
The kick Akenon delivered split his lips.
Akenon resumed in a caustic tone, while Daaruk spat out blood and teeth.
“I still have to thank you for another favor you’ve done me in the last few hours. Can you guess what it is?”
Daaruk’s eyes were two sparks of intensely concentrated hatred, but he kept his head low and his body curled up. Akenon leaned toward him and smiled.
“You’ve saved me the trouble of loading the mules.”
CHAPTER 137
July 29th, 510 B.C.
&nb
sp; Ariadne galloped through the forest, her face full of tension, a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions racing through her head. She needed to calm herself to deal with the next step, but the news she had just received about her father had caused a lump in her throat that wouldn’t go away.
She had been riding for half an hour without rest and was nearing the villa that had once belonged to Daaruk’s parents. Just before going to the Council, she had gone there and untied Akenon. The plan was that once Daaruk arrived at that hideout after his escape from the Council, Akenon would take care of him. Nevertheless, Ariadne was afraid that in his impaired state, Akenon might jeopardize some aspect of the plan.
She spurred her mount as she visualized Daaruk killing Akenon with painful clarity. If what she found when she arrived was Akenon’s body…
Night had fallen. She dismounted, unsheathed the sword, and covered the last few yards as quietly as possible. The door to the underground room was closed. A horse and four loaded mules were tied up next to it. She crept closer, mindful not to disturb the animals, and listened carefully.
Daaruk left Croton nearly two hours before me, she thought, putting her ear to the door. It was more than enough time for Akenon to have pumped him for all the information they needed. The plan was that he would then take Daaruk prisoner.
Killing Pythagoras (Mediterranean Prize Winner 2015) Page 59