At the time, the Pythagorean Outer Circle of the akousmatikoi counted over one thousand and five hundred members, whereas the Inner Circle, the mathematikoi, along with the Philosophers, added up to four hundred. That escalation in the numbers of adepts in both Circles resulted from the fascinating, and peaceful, way of life Pythagoras had envisioned and applied through an efficiently organized system.
Unlike the supreme Philosopher Pythagoras, the new masters did not need the shield of a curtain to teach. They simply convened with their Listeners in different places every time; a hall, a garden, or other tranquil spots around the White City.
That particular day, Hippasos discussed corruption with his group in the nearby field.
“…thus a corrupt man is better off dead than alive,” he inferred, looking at their attentive gazes.
“Master, would such a man rise to Heaven, or descend to Hell, upon his death?” The pertinent question took Hippasos aback.
Still for a moment, he pondered on how to reply to this Listener without exposing the taut secrecy of the Mysteries. For an explanation was required from him, a Master assigned to teach! In the seconds that trailed, he sought for the right answer to one of the most important questions ever to be asked by curious Humans. He could have explained, right there and then, the secret doctrine of metempsychosis if, and only if, their minds were ready to fathom the depth of such knowledge.
“He goes to… hell, I suppose,” he ended, sharply, to attenuate his spasmodic reply.
“But, Master, what is Hell?” another akousmatikoi riposted.
“Well… Hell is a place of pain where all the wicked people dwell in continuous suffering, as punishment for the evil deeds they committed in life.”
“Where is Hell, then?”
He thought for a while.
“Listen, Earth is, in a way, like Hell. Plenty of suffering and injustice exist here on Earth where people live as a punishment for the bad deeds they have committed at some point in time,” Hippasos released with a bit of relief. He had finally said it, hinting at it, yet without revealing the plain truth, or so he had assumed! “Can you grasp this, brothers and sisters? Is the idea clear to you?” He queried, doubting that they would be able to understand, or perceive, beyond the appearance of life and death.
A more relevant question cropped up, unsettling him. “What is Heaven, then, Master?”
That’s it! Hippasos thought in annoyance. He considered ending the discussion at once on the excuse of an urgent matter, simply because his pledge for secrecy forbade him from revealing the truth about the esoteric Heaven.
He hesitated.
That would be so unlike the ethics of his Master Pythagoras, to leave matters unanswered, or unattended. He pondered on how his Master would have handled this situation. He then decided to simply impart them with a general and inexplicit idea. He smiled inwardly and went for what he deemed to be the best answer under such circumstances.
“Heaven is a place of Love and Peace,” he stated with confidence. “Heaven is a place up high, there where you would rise based on your good deeds in life.”
“It must only be populated by good people then!” An akousmatikoi advanced in wonder. “We’ll surely like it, right?” he said genuinely to his friends then asked eagerly, “Where is this beautiful place? Can you show it to us?”
Silence filled the place. The Listeners waited for his answer while he fought against his strong wish to reveal the truth.
“Heaven is the very Ether of existence,” he decided to declare, assuming that a general innuendo would satisfy their curiosity for the moment.
“What do you mean, Master?”
“How does that happen, Master?
“So what is Heaven, in fact?”
Truth be told, Hippasos had assumed that such profound questions would never surge on him, since he had reached the fate of the corrupt man in his lesson. He was being charged and his mind was only trained to deal with the subject of morality, not spirituality. However, the questions poured out, pressuring him further. The eyes probed him with doubts about his ability and erudition, or so he felt. It was already tough for him to fight his internal conflict. He sweated profusely. He heard it then, the murmurs he had much dreaded, the words whispered among them,
“He doesn’t know….”
“He is not a good master….”
“Listen to me, everyone!” He countered with authority then rushed out on his explanation, “Heaven is the fifth element that floats everywhere beyond the four element of Nature. It is not atomic, but rather spiritual. It is the Dodecahedron!”
The stillness of confusion captured them.
He could detect their perplexity in their blank eyes, and in the faces that gaped at him. Some of them frowned then, obviously trying to ponder on his words, which must have sounded quite strange. He could sense the momentary emptiness of their minds.
Hippasos realized, belatedly, what he had done. Irate, he walked away the moment a student opened his mouth to ask further explanations. His feet stomped the lane towards the Temple, with the same angry rhythm that his spirit bore. He had just revealed the hidden properties of the purest and most sacred secret of all times, the secret of the Dodecahedron! And he would have to face the consequences soon. Anguish grabbed him by the throat.
The ox of sheer secrecy had fallen off his tongue.
That infamous day befell on him sooner than he had expected.
Early at dawn, the Sebastikoi, the religious functionaries of the Pythagorean Order, summoned him without delay to the Temple of Apollo to stand trial. Hippasos, his heart in torment and his body heavy with numbness, abided at once. The moment he crossed the threshold of the gate, he swallowed with difficulty and halted. He knew the formalities, and delaying the confrontation would not help him in any way. His fellow philosophers, the new Masters of the Inner Circle, formed two parallel, straight lines, from the entrance and all the way to the altar. Eleven of them in each side, they stood like judges in wait.
Great Master Pythagoras is not here! He is nowhere to be seen, yet, he would certainly appear… and soon enough! Hippasos mumbled under his breath.
Hippasos grabbed his courage in both hands, and moved forward under the severe scrutiny of his fellow brothers and sisters from both sides. In shame, he plodded with leaden steps to the center of the Temple where he stopped and remained motionless.
In his disgrace, time seemed endless until Pythagoras walked in from the right side: the high, the good, and the divine direction. His glorious aura escorted him behind the altar. His white linen tunic and purple robe stated his position as supreme judge. In seconds, the trial would start with the masters of Philosophy assuming the role of jurors and witnesses at the same time.
“Hippasos,” Master Pythagoras spoke, his voice calm, too calm for Hippasos not to heed the hidden tone of disappointment and anger. “It was a real honor for me to become a Master at one time in my life; the same applies to you and your brothers and sisters. Verily I say unto you! You were assigned with the most honorable mission of all times; teaching the listeners.”
“Yes, Master! And that’s exactly what I was doing!” Hippasos prompted to answer in self-defense.
“Right, Hippasos. None of us ever doubted it. It is certainly fine and commendable to teach morality to the Listeners, yet to reveal the secrets is utterly unacceptable!” Pythagoras snapped. “You took an Oath of total secrecy, Hippasos! Have you forgotten?”
Hippasos trembled at the admonishment, and bowed his head in shameful silence.
An ox over the tongue! He muttered beneath his breath.
“You broke the most important rule of our Society by divulging the most Sacred Secret of our teachings!” The supreme judge spat. “Are you aware of your crime, Hippasos?”
The disgrace felt heavier than ever. “Yes, Master,” Hippasos mumbled and closed his eyes. “I am deeply sorry, Master! I really am… I mean, to have betrayed your trust… and the trust of all the Assembly here gathered.”
“You have, haven’t you? You should be sorry, indeed!” Pythagoras admonished. He scrutinized him pensively then looked at the Assembly and asked, “What shall we do about this betrayal, brothers and sisters?”
The question echoed in the Temple, sinister like a creepy menace that chilled the blood in the veins of Hippasos. He veered to the Philosophers with imploring eyes. But there was no kindness in the looks that pinned him to the floor.
His heartbeats throbbed faster and louder. Cold numbed his hands. His neck and back dampened with the cold sweat of dread.
“Expulsion!” A voice prompted and was soon followed by others. They all sentenced him, unanimously, out of their sacred circle.
Hippasos bowed his head, and his shoulders sagged in defeat. He understood that nothing could be done to have them change their minds, or even mellow their hearts. He himself deemed his transgression unacceptable. He should have stood stronger, and more faithful, against the pressure. Now that the final decision had ensued in unison, his spirit broke down under a terrible sense of loss.
Pythagoras took a very profound breath. He sighed deeply as if the decision was hard on him too. He then issued with authority, “In the name of the Great Monad, personified by El-Apollo, the God Most High, and in honor to our Heavenly White City, I, the Lover of Sophia, the son of Hermes-Enoch, expel you, Hippasos of Metapontium, from the Pythagorean Society forever and ever!”
The verdict fell harsh on Hippasos, and shattered him. An acute sensation of burning hurt the eyes he lifted at his Great Master. Abiding to the formalities, Pythagoras turned his head away, so did all the twenty-two Masters of Philosophy as the accused walked back towards the entrance. He dragged his heavy feet out of the Temple, and all the way out of the White City.
Fraught and beset, he meandered in the wilderness, his pain acute and his crying loud. In a while, the Fraternity would declare him officially dead to them, and that hurt his soul severely. His heart bled at the notion of it.
That same day, the Fraternity did in fact declare their brother, Hippasos, dead to all. They erected a cenotaph in his name, in the Square of their White City, to be seen by all. The memorandum read in clear letters of green color:
“Here lies, Hippasos of Metapontium,
A Pythagorean brother for seven years,
A Master for almost two years,
He broke the rules of our Society,
Divulged its most sacred secrets,
And then… died.”
* * *
A couple of years later, another beautiful soul infiltrated the womb of Theano, to Pythagoras’ delight. Months after that, a baby boy came into the light of life, where he was to journey under the name of Telauges. Be it a coincidence, or an act of divine intervention, the new baby boy bore a great deal of resemblance to his father, while Damo, their first-born daughter, displayed an astonishing similarity to her mother.
“Just, it is so. A perfect equilibrium in our work of creation, or better said, procreation, for we were given children in our images!” Pythagoras shared with great interest.
Theano smiled widely at him then gazed at her two children lounging in front of them. She chuckled with delight and nodded in consent. Happiness prevailed in the haven of the Great Master.
* * *
Peace and happiness carried the Pythagorean Society through the years. The Dodecahedron assumed a perfect position on the Cube, or in other words, Heaven was positioned on Earth. It crowned the White City with the golden color of the gods. Its unique lifestyle kept compelling more and more people to join. Within the Outer Circle, there existed the Pythagorists; a group composed of prominent persons from Crotona and other Italian, independent cities from the South. From Sybaris to Rhegium, these individuals had joined the Fraternity to acquire wisdom and enlightenment from the Great Master. In fact, its excellent reputation took the Mediterranean region by storm. Among the prominent citizens of Crotona who expressed high interest in adhering, was Kylon, a rich man.
In the year 502 BCE, the Magical and breathtaking White City overwhelmed Kylon, the moment he stepped in. Two members of the Fraternity received him with kind reservation and led him to the Gymnasium. There, the games quickly caught his attention. Later, he abided to their invitation to participate in the discussions held by a group of Pythagorean students. His interest increased, and months later, he commenced his initial tests under the close scrutiny of the Masters. His oratorical skills and strong leadership favored his achievements on all the trials. The masters, however, still speculated on the kind of leader he could be. At that stage, it was still early for them to decide, for there was something about him that they found a bit disturbing.
When the hour of truth came for him to face his monsters, he walked fearless to the deserted cave at the foot of the hill for the next decisive trial. The tales of beasts, phantoms, and ghosts, alleged to exist there, held no credibility in his mind. He knew the area all too well for having sneaked around it sometimes during the day. To face it at night stirred but his sense of challenge. Thus, thrilled with anticipation, he settled in for the nightly trial.
Just a single night, he thought cynically. Easy!
He grinned broadly and slouched on the cold floor. He bent his knees so he could rest his elbows on them, and started to mumble a happy song, while his eyes examined the area around him. After a while, boredom took over. He leaned his head back on the rocky wall, and closed his eyes to sleep. An instant later, he snapped them open at a sound that echoed deep inside the cave. He leapt to his feet and started checking the dark spots. Finding nothing, he shrugged his shoulders, went back to his spot, and attempted to sleep once more.
Less than an hour later, he prompted his eyes open widely at the warm breeze that basked briskly on his face and arms. A cold sweat dampened his tunic and his back. He frowned. He swallowed with difficulty. Something new to him, something called fear, grabbed him by the throat. He rejected that feeling, and decided to inspect the cave again. Yet, this time, his heart pounded faster than usual. Somehow, he seemed to hear faint sounds but could not see any living creature around!
The sensation of warm blasts of air on his shoulders reiterated several times during the night, impeding his rest. It triggered his doubts on the existence of supernatural creatures, somewhere in that darkness. Suspicion, as well as the threat of the unknown and the unseen, shook his courage and unsettled him. The eerie obscurity escorted his ruminations all night long on the possibility of such a weird existence. Against all creepy sounds and sensations, he held tight onto his pragmatic mind, and stout determination to overcome the trial.
And he did, yet not without internal scars! The experience of facing the illusions of his mind had resulted tougher than he had expected. Stepping out at daylight, a nuisance dwelled in his thoughts. He needed a good, long, and restorative rest to be able to undertake the next test that would give him rightful access to the Fraternity. He knew that the next test related to a moral examination of his ethics and values. This achievement would be required of him in order to proceed into the Initiation of the first degree, called the Preparation period.
However, the subsequent trial did not come as expected. A sponsoring Master surprised him by leading him, without prior notice, to a Spartan cell inside the White City.
“This is your next test, Kylon. You are to stay in here and decode a Pythagorean symbol,” he informed him dryly. “Find out what is the meaning of the Triangle. When you get it, or if you simply give up, knock on the door and you shall be released. Otherwise, I will come for you when the time is done.”
Left to this, Kylon sagged on the floor. He looked around the gloomy cell with annoyance. He frowned at the sole piece of bread placed on a bamboo mat, and at the clay jar of water next to it. Dinner! He sneered before delving deeply on the solution to the question. Hours elapsed on his attempts to decipher the secret meaning behind that strange geometrical form. With his index, he drew it several times on the dusty floor to discern what hid behind it, or
around it, or inside it. Nothing! He started to panic. Time became his enemy. He bit on his, now dirty, nails, swiped at the sweat running down in rivulets from his forehead and tried again. Yet nothing would come to his mind. And he refused to give in.
The door creaked and opened to reveal the same Master who had led him in.
“Your time is over, Kylon. Come with me.” With that lackluster order, he turned his back and disappeared without waiting for a reply.
Kylon leapt to his feet and dashed behind him all the way to the homakoeion, the Common Auditorium. There, without a word, the Master opened the heavy door of the Assembly Hall and let him in.
Kylon noticed, at once, the presence of several neophytes like him, and a few recent adherents of the Inner Circle and their Masters. They all appeared to be expecting him to reveal the secret he had reached in his meditation inside that Spartan cell.
“Have you reached an answer?” his Master then asked, all too softly. “What is the meaning of the Triangle? In case you forgot, that was the question.”
Kylon stood still like a statue. Known as an accomplished speaker, his tongue, this time, was hooked to the query of the geometrical shape. He couldn’t talk. The answer didn’t come, and the question lingered in the air for some time.
“Well… say something!”
“Can you?”
“We cannot wait all day long for your answer.”
“He can’t speak… the cat got his tongue.”
“Is this the philosopher we came to listen to?”
“A statue with no soul will certainly not talk.”
These cynical questions and comments poured in on him at once from every direction. The beginners, like him, laughed and sneered. The Masters, on the other hand, stood there, observing his probable reactions.
Their abstention to interfere irritated him. Although he knew that this was a test of morality, or the sort, he could not stem the fiery anger that ignited in his being. Whatever the importance of the test, or his determination to win, he deemed his dignity and pride to be above all this humiliation. His arrogance was notorious. And, at this very moment, the banters and mockeries incited his most base temperament into reaction!
Pythagoras the Mathemagician Page 34