Killing Pythagoras (Mediterranean Prize Winner 2015)

by Marcos Chicot

  Ariadne leaned toward Akenon, who lowered the ring for her to see. As she pointed at what she was trying to explain, she inadvertently leaned her right hand on Akenon’s bare thigh. When she realized what she’d done she swallowed, and felt that her hand was shaking, but continued to explain the pentacle.

  “This shorter segment has a certain ratio to this longer one,” she touched the points with her fingernail, “which is exactly the same ratio as between the larger segment and the sum of both segments. And the same thing happens, in turn, between that sum and the whole line.”

  Akenon nodded slowly, fascinated. After his father’s death, he had left his studies to join the police force, but geometry still enthralled him.

  Ariadne continued.

  “The Babylonian mathematicians showed my father some examples of that ratio in nature. My father…” She had reached the limit beyond which further information was protected by the secret oath. However much she trusted Akenon, she had to respect her oath. “My father discovered it’s not just a curiosity, but one of the fundamental laws of the universe.”

  Understanding Ariadne could say no more, Akenon stopped asking questions. The members of the brotherhood were extremely reserved about their most complex knowledge, those teachings that could bestow mystifying control over nature and men. Pythagoras had stipulated that no Pythagorean could access that knowledge except by following the paths of personal development and purification he had established. That was why Glaucus’ wanting to use his wealth to obtain that knowledge was such a serious matter.

  Actually, Glaucus’ goal isn’t to illegally obtain secret knowledge, given that he has offered his prize for something not even Pythagoras knows.

  Akenon noticed that the hoplites at the head of the group had stopped and were dismounting in front of the inn’s stables. He quickly put the ring away, dismounted, and started giving the soldiers instructions.

  He had no idea that ring would reveal vital secrets to him.

  The Golden Section

  …

  Ancient Greeks knew it simply as the section.

  Other names given to it throughout history are: divine proportion, golden number, golden proportion…

  It is what causes two parts of a segment to maintain the same ratio between them as the larger part to the entire segment.

  The result is an irrational number (1.618…), often represented by the Greek letter phi (Φ, φ), the first letter in Phidias (Φειδίας), the name of a Greek sculptor whose works represent ideal beauty and are one of the highest esthetic achievements of the classical era.

  This proportion is considered to possess great beauty and mathematical perfection. Similarly, beauty and perfection are attributed to everything whose internal composition is governed by this ratio. It is believed to have been extensively used in art: in the Parthenon, the Great Pyramid of Giza, works by Leonardo Da Vinci, Michelangelo, Beethoven, Mozart… The golden section has also been identified everywhere in nature: in the spirals of many creatures’ shells, the petals of flowers, leaves on their stems, the ratio between the thickness of tree branches… So, too, in human beings: the ratio between the overall height and the height of the navel, the thigh, and the knee, the ratio between the length of the arm and the distance to the elbow, etc.

  Every intersection of the lines in a pentacle defines a segment which is a golden section of the next largest segment. According to the notation in the diagram: φ = d/c = c/b = b/a = 1.618…

  As we see, the pentacle demonstrates the golden section admirably and, by extension, for the Pythagoreans, the divine secrets of the construction of the universe.

  …

  Encyclopedia Mathematica. Socram Ofisis. 1926.

  CHAPTER 54

  June 8th, 510 B.C.

  Ariadne had retired for the night.

  Though he was tired, Akenon stayed in the common room of the inn drinking a goblet of wine diluted with water. He had to fraternize with the soldiers Milo had assigned to him if he was to get the most out of them.

  Someone slapped him on the shoulder. One of the men, his face flushed from drink, gestured at Akenon’s goblet as if complaining he was drinking too little. Akenon knocked back the contents in one long swallow and returned the soldier’s slap on the back. The man laughed heartily with him.

  The night was ideal for relaxing. It was highly unlikely there was any danger lurking in that inn in the middle of nowhere. Besides, the next day would be spent traveling, so there was no great harm in some of them suffering from a hangover.

  Five soldiers sat at Akenon’s table. The sixth was keeping watch in the corridor on the upper floor, where the bedrooms they would later use were located. The two servants were already in the stables, snoring next to the luggage and the valuable animals that were traveling with them.

  Akenon watched the innkeeper as she moved between the tables with a tray of food. Thanks to Ariadne’s analytical skills, questioning the innkeepers again had only served to confirm they hadn’t lied and couldn’t offer any clues. The meticulous examination of the room where the crime had taken place and the other areas of the inn hadn’t proved fruitful either. It was a predictable result, as they had already been gone over by Milo and his investigators, and even by Akenon himself, who had revisited dozens of times his brief but intense recollections of the day he had faced the hooded man.

  His goblet was refilled. He made a show of drinking, but only wet his lips, taking advantage of the fact that the soldiers were distracted remembering old drinking sessions. They had all known each other for several years. That’s good if we need to fight, thought Akenon as he observed them in silence, a faint smile on his face.

  He disconnected himself again from the revelry around him and went back over some aspects of the investigation after Daaruk’s murder.

  In Egypt, Akenon had learned to analyze handwriting. He had requested some of Daaruk’s writings, which he carefully compared to the will Atma had given Eritrius. Akenon thought the document might prove to be a forgery, as had happened in a case he had solved years earlier. On that occasion, the seal of one of Pharaoh Ahmose II’s family members had been replicated, and the copy had been used to seal fraudulent business documents. Akenon had discovered that the duplicate had been made using a wax mold obtained while the owner of the ring was asleep, without even taking the ring off his finger. However, in this case, the handwriting analysis was indisputable: Daaruk had written the will. That led to the conclusion that he must have trusted Atma implicitly…but there was not much else to go on. There were still hundreds of unanswered questions surrounding the case, and with Daaruk and Atma dead, that leaves only the hooded man to answer them.

  He took another sip of wine and looked at the soldiers. They were rowdy, but the only one who was drunk was the one who had slapped him on the shoulder a while ago, and he wasn’t on guard duty that night. They seemed very professional, as Milo had assured him. Akenon thought about Sybaris and the investigation they would start the next day. His intuition told him that to find the hooded man his best bet was to go through Glaucus. He was the wealthiest and most powerful man in Sybaris, an initiate in the Pythagorean brotherhood, a mathematics aficionado, as he had just proven by offering his exorbitant prize… Everything points to Glaucus as a key piece of the puzzle.

  Akenon stood up. He reminded the soldiers that they would leave at daybreak, said goodnight, and left the lively room. He wanted to think calmly and be fresh for the next day.

  As he went toward the stairs, the image of Ariadne riding on the mare came to him, her hand resting on his thigh as they examined the ring. She had never behaved in such a friendly, intimate way.

  Ariadne is another enigma.

  He frowned, shaking his head lightly.

  As attractive as she is unpredictable. The thought disconcerted him.

  Suddenly, he was very aware that she was lying in a bed upstairs, only a few yards from him. He stopped a moment at the foot of the stairs and looked up.

&nbs
p; As he started up, he noticed a shiver running down his spine.

  Ariadne had been huddled under the blankets for a while. She had just remembered something, however, and knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep.

  Not until I have the documents with me.

  Before leaving Croton she had taken some parchments belonging to her father which contained information about the circle and its properties. She hoped to use them to convince Glaucus that his goal in offering the prize made no sense. The problem was that those documents were not supposed to leave the community. No one knew she had taken them.

  At first, she had planned to carry them next to her body, but it was too hot during the day, and they could be damaged by perspiration. Finally, she had hidden them at the bottom of a bag. Now those valuable parchments were in the stables with the rest of the luggage, protected only by servants who would spend the night sleeping soundly. It was very unlikely that the documents were in danger, but she couldn’t get the idea out of her head, and now her feelings of guilt were making it worse.

  I should never have taken them, she thought, tossing and turning.

  Nothing could be done about it now. The only thing she could do was protect them to her utmost ability. She had to take them out of the luggage and keep them with her until she could put them back when they returned to Croton.

  She threw the blanket off, sat up, and put on a pair of espadrilles. As she left the room, she acknowledged the soldier standing guard at one end of the corridor with a nod, which he reciprocated.

  The only light on the upper floor was coming from the common room downstairs, from where the sound of laughter and loud conversation reached her.

  Akenon must still be downstairs.

  She felt embarrassed and wondered whether to go down, abashed at how she had behaved with Akenon during the journey.

  I was like an animal in heat. She blushed, admonishing herself.

  Adjusting her tunic, she went toward the stairs. The front door was next to them, which meant that probably no one would notice her going out to the stables.

  As she put her foot on the first step in the semi-darkness, she realized someone was coming up.

  Akenon!

  He had his head turned away, taking a last look at the room below, and hadn’t noticed her.

  Ariadne controlled the urge to turn and hide before Akenon saw her. She forced herself to continue casually down the stairs, preparing for the moment he looked up. Akenon was coming from a brightly lit room into the darkness of the upper floor, so he took another few steps up before he realized she was descending among the shadows.

  Ariadne quickened her step, planning on greeting him briefly as they passed. She saw Akenon look up, simultaneously slowing his ascent. She took another step down and looked at his face. Akenon’s expression made her stop.

  For a second Akenon thought his eyes hadn’t yet adjusted to the darkness and he was hallucinating. He had just had the disturbing mental image of Ariadne, so strangely and sweetly cordial today, lying in her bed so close to him, and now it seemed his imagination was taking shape among the shadows on the stairs… But it wasn’t an illusion, she really was there. Her tousled hair revealed she had just risen and her skin seemed to exude the warmth of the bed she had left. She radiated a sensuality that made him stop in his tracks, dazzled, unable to do anything but stare at her.

  Sheltered in the intimacy of the dim light, with the sense of unreality the unexpected brings, they looked at each other in silence at close proximity. They were separated by only one step, which almost cancelled their difference in height. Instinctively, Akenon stretched out his left hand and brushed it against Ariadne’s right. She moved her hand slowly against his, stroking Akenon’s fingers. It was the briefest of contact, but produced a sensation so intense their bodies trembled. Ariadne looked from Akenon’s eyes to his full, dark lips, which were slightly parted. She heard in his ragged breathing the same desire that was surging in her. Suddenly, she became aware they were both naked under their light tunics. Her nipples hardened and she longed to press Akenon’s muscular body against hers.

  Without thinking, she drew closer to him, parting her lips. Akenon leaned in to kiss her, closed his eyes…

  …and opened them again, alarmed by noises from the upper floor. Someone had come out of a room and was heading for the stairs. Flustered, Ariadne immediately tensed, mumbled something unintelligible, and continued quickly downstairs, passing Akenon without looking at him. He hesitated. At the top of the stairs another patron of the inn appeared, a large man with a grumpy expression who looked at Akenon suspiciously when he saw him standing in the middle of the stairs, then descended, grunting a greeting as he passed.

  Akenon turned around. The stranger was laboring down the steps. Beyond him, the door of the inn was closing.

  Ariadne had gone out into the warm night.

  CHAPTER 55

  June 8th, 510 B.C.

  It’s perfect.

  The hooded man lifted the heavy mirror in both hands and brought it close to the torch, the only source of light in the underground room. On the upper rim of the frame was a figure of Cerberus, the three-headed dog Greeks believed guarded the gates to the kingdom of the dead. He turned the mirror on its side and examined its burnished bronze surface with a critical eye. It was impeccably smooth, which guaranteed an undistorted reflection.

  Perfect.

  He propped it on the ground and stood back a few feet, positioning himself in such a way that his entire body was reflected in the wide mirror. After standing for a few seconds he drew closer. The reflection showed a brown cape, a hood, and, where a face should have been, complete darkness.

  That’s how everyone sees me.

  He stepped forward till he was just a yard from the polished metal. Though the torchlight reached the hood, inside it was swallowed in black darkness.

  Satisfied, he smiled.

  Eyes fixed on his image, he slowly pulled back the fabric. His head was uncovered. He could see the outline of his face, cold and rigid as a statue, black as soot. In the hollows of his eyes reigned an even murkier darkness.

  He smiled again, but his reflection remained impassive. The metallic mask that hid his face wore a permanently severe expression. It was made of pure silver, perfectly blackened in a sulfur bath. He contemplated it in the mirror while he untied the leather straps behind his head that held it in place. When he was done, he lowered his head, and the mask slowly came away in his hands. It had felt strips glued on the inside, which made it so comfortable he almost never took it off. Not even when he was alone. In fact, when he thought of himself, the image that came to him wasn’t his own face but the mask.

  He turned it around and stared at its frozen expression. It was like an unpolished cuirass, forbidding and sinister.

  This is my true face.

  Without knowing why, he felt the urge to look at himself in the mirror without the mask. He considered it for a few seconds, poring over the black silver features.

  Taking a deep breath, he lifted his face to the mirror.

  CHAPTER 56

  June 9th, 510 B.C.

  The night before, Akenon had waited halfway up the stairs for Ariadne to come back. He didn’t want to wait for her in the common room, where the soldiers were drinking, nor could he wait upstairs, where there was another hoplite standing guard.

  He remained alert to the noises from the ground floor. He felt nervous and slightly confused. A few minutes later, he saw that the fat man who had interrupted them was coming back through the common room, heading for the stairs. If he found Akenon still standing there, he might think he was hiding with some evil intent.

  He might start shouting, thought Akenon uneasily. The last thing he wanted just then was to attract the soldiers’ attention to Ariadne and himself.

  He climbed the rest of the stairs, greeted the guard on duty, and went into his room. He closed the door and listened. The fat man passed his room. A short while after that, he heard Aria
dne returning to her bedroom. He could discern her footsteps clearly, the sound of the door, and the noise of the straw mattress as her body sank into it. He felt the urge to go to her room, but controlled himself. He couldn’t cross the corridor in front of the soldier on duty and go into Pythagoras’ daughter’s bedroom. He lay on his bed thinking of her, and began to wonder whether any of it had actually happened. Were we really on the verge of kissing? Everything had happened so fast and been so surprising, he wasn’t sure. And, if it were true, why was Ariadne now willing for something to happen between them?

  A couple of hours later, the two soldiers with whom he was sharing the room came in. They threw themselves onto their mats and were snoring placidly within five minutes. Akenon continued to stare at the ceiling, unable to sleep, surprised to realize he had strong feelings for Ariadne. They had developed somewhere outside his daily reality, in a corner of his mind where he had told himself long ago that nothing would ever happen between them, that they’d simply say goodbye the day he returned to Carthage.

  I don’t know what to expect any more.

  He tried to distract himself by thinking about the investigation they would carry out in Sybaris, but his thoughts kept returning to Ariadne. Imagining what might have happened if they hadn’t been interrupted made him shiver with excitement.

  When he finally managed to sleep, his dreams took him back to the stairs.

  The following morning, the soldiers were present when Akenon met Ariadne. They greeted each other formally and set out on their journey. As on the day before, they rode together, keeping a certain distance from the other members of the group. Nothing seemed to have changed, but the glances they exchanged were more prolonged, and they couldn’t stop smiling.