July 10th, 510 B.C.
Akenon had gone to Croton thinking it would be an uneventful morning.
Now he was leaving Eteocles’ establishment, where he had gone to ask for clarification on what had become of a couple of horses that appeared in his records. Eteocles’ answers hadn’t led to anything and Akenon decided to return to the community.
He mounted his horse and rode away from the smell of manure in the merchant’s livery stables. Shortly afterwards, another horse crossed his path. Akenon stared at the rider, thinking he recognized his face, but couldn’t remember where he’d seen him. He shrugged and continued at a leisurely pace along the streets of Croton. For a while, it looked as if the other rider was going in the same direction. However, when they left the city, Akenon took the western path while the stranger started trotting northbound.
Then it hit him.
I’ve seen him at the door to Cylon’s house. He’s one of his guards.
He reined in his horse, hesitating, and watched the man ride away. Finally, he decided to follow his instincts and set out after him.
Cylon’s guard was traveling along the coastal route. It was a busy road, especially on the outskirts of Croton, which meant Akenon could follow fairly closely without being spotted. Thanks to this, he saw the rider leave the path and make his way into the forest.
Akenon also left the path and continued following. The forest was sparse, which helped him to see. His sense of danger had increased. After a few minutes, he thought he saw through the branches that the guard was stopping. He dismounted, tied his horse to a tree, and approached on foot.
There was a noise and he crouched down. He heard men’s voices talking to each other. Akenon continued to approach as quietly as he could.
There they are.
In a small clearing two men stood, their mounts beside them. One was Cylon’s guard whom he had been following. The other had his back to Akenon, so he couldn’t see who it was. Then the man turned his head.
Crisipo!
Akenon’s heart began to race. Here in front of him was the traitor, the soldier who had placed the coins under Orestes’ bed.
The masked man’s servant, he thought in excitement, watching him carefully. Crisipo was talking while the guard listened and nodded. It looked as if he was receiving instructions, or some message from the former soldier. A few minutes later, Crisipo went to his horse and brought back a bag that appeared to be quite heavy. He said something else and gave it to Cylon’s guard.
By Osiris, I bet it contains gold from the prize.
Akenon forced himself to think objectively. He could reveal himself and take on the two men, but there was a possibility the guard might engage him while Crisipo took the advantage to escape. He couldn’t risk it. His priority was to catch Crisipo and get him to confess the whereabouts of the masked man.
And then go there with half the army to put Boreas out of action.
The guard hid the bag and got on his horse. Crisipo mounted his own and the two men slowly rode away. Akenon untied the reins and followed at a distance along the same path until he reached the coastal road once more. There, he saw the guard spur his mount to a trot and ride toward Croton. Crisipo, on the other hand, headed for Sybaris.
Akenon forgot about the guard and set out in pursuit of Crisipo.
Crisipo rode all day despite the exhausting heat and humidity. It looked like he was heading for Sybaris and wanted to make it in one day. Visibility was excellent, which meant Akenon had no opportunity to get close to him without being noticed. At least it was easy to follow him discreetly, since there were several riders along the route who were also traveling to Sybaris.
Once the sun had gone down, though, the situation became more difficult. The road emptied of travelers and it was more and more difficult to see. Akenon had to get closer to Crisipo if he didn’t want to lose him. After a while, he realized the distance between them was increasing. Crisipo’s horse was trotting at a livelier pace. Worried, Akenon increased his speed.
This is starting to look too much like an obvious chase.
Suddenly, Crisipo broke into a full gallop. Akenon responded instantly and spurred his horse. If he let Crisipo out of his sight, he could slip away from the road and it would be impossible to find him.
There was no longer any point in trying to remain unnoticed, so Akenon allowed his horse, superior to Crisipo’s, to gain ground. His body tensed in anticipation of a fight. A minute later, when he was less than thirty yards away, Crisipo turned abruptly and entered a cluster of trees without slowing down, risking his horse breaking a leg, or hitting a branch with his own head. Akenon followed at the same speed. Thanks to that swift reflex, he caught sight of the soldier jumping to the ground and hiding among some bushes while his horse galloped away. Akenon pulled on the reins and jumped down. Realizing his strategy hadn’t worked, Crisipo launched into a furious attack, brandishing his sword.
Akenon barely had time to unsheathe his sword and fend off the first blow. The crash of metal blades sent sparks into the dark night. With lightning speed, Crisipo launched a second attack and then a third. It was evident he had been a good soldier. He delivered the fourth blow holding his sword with both hands and bringing it down over Akenon’s head. Akenon still hadn’t regained his balance after the previous lunges, but he was an expert swordsman. He stopped the blow with the base of his blade, avoiding injury while taking advantage of the moment Crisipo pulled back his sword to aim a kick at his opponent’s stomach. Crisipo swiveled and Akenon’s foot glanced off, but the kick succeeded in giving him the upper hand. Crisipo was unable to regain a defensive position before Akenon’s saber clashed against his with tremendous force, almost wrenching it from his hands. He took a few steps back to gain time and clasp the hilt tighter.
He’s mine now, thought Akenon.
He had gained the advantage. He was stronger and more agile than his opponent, and could finish the soldier off at any moment, but he needed him alive. He struck several blows in succession as he advanced quickly. Crisipo couldn’t retreat at the same speed without losing his balance, so he desperately lunged forward, letting his guard down. Akenon easily deflected his blade and then smashed the hilt of his sword into Crisipo’s face. The soldier managed to remain standing, but was dazed, as if drunk. Akenon barely had to tap his sword to disarm him.
“It’s over, Crisipo.”
His opponent looked at him, still confused. Then he looked at the sword on the ground by his feet.
“Don’t even think of it,” grunted Akenon.
Suddenly, Crisipo’s face became a mask of hatred. He roared and threw himself at Akenon. The blind attack surprised Akenon, who didn’t want to risk killing his opponent without finding out first where the masked man was. The bodies of the two men crashed onto the dry ground. Crisipo landed on top of Akenon, trapping the latter’s sword between them. The hand gripping the weapon was immobilized. Akenon tried to fend off Crisipo’s punches with his free arm, but received a blow on the temple and another one that barely missed his nose. He let go of his sword, managing to free his trapped arm, rolled over, and landed his fist forcefully on Crisipo’s jaw.
The soldier crumpled like a dead man. Akenon pushed him off and sat up, catching his breath. Just then, he noticed a piercing pain under his eye. He touched his cheek and looked at his fingers. It hurt, and was swelling up, but there was no blood.
He turned to Crisipo. The soldier’s eyes were closed and a trickle of blood flowed from his slightly parted lips. It would be a while before he regained consciousness.
Akenon stood up, collected the swords, and went to his horse to get a rope. He was frowning, looking sober as he reflected.
How much will Crisipo have to be tortured before he betrays the masked man?
The pain made Crisipo whimper.
He could feel his body swaying, but didn’t understand what was happening. He half-opened his eyes, disconcerted, then realized where he was and quickly closed them again.
I must make Akenon think I’m still unconscious.
He was lying across his horse’s back, his arms and legs round the animal. His jaw hurt. He ran his tongue around his mouth and found a deep gash on the inside of his cheek and a couple of loose molars. He opened the eye closest to the horse just a slit. Night had fallen and they were moving slowly. He heard another horse to his left. Akenon must be riding beside him, leading his mount by the reins. Crisipo contracted one arm slowly to test how strong his bonds were. Instantly, he felt tension. He tried with one leg; the same. I’m not going to be able to free myself, he thought in frustration. He’d have to wait for the Egyptian to untie him and try to catch him by surprise at that point.
“Good evening, Crisipo.” Akenon greeted him with feigned friendliness. Crisipo continued pretending he was unconscious. “Guess who’s going to interrogate you.”
Where are we going? wondered Crisipo. It was impossible to discern anything from where he was. He didn’t even know how long they’d been riding. He imagined they were heading for Croton. Probably the Pythagorean community.
“At first I thought I’d interrogate you myself in the forest.” The Egyptian seemed determined to keep talking, and Crisipo wondered why. Just to amuse himself while they traveled through the night? Akenon continued: “However, I figured you might not cooperate, and there’s someone who’s more competent than me at obtaining information. Who do you think that might be?”
Crisipo felt his breathing quicken, not from fear, but hatred. He hated the Egyptian and he hated himself for putting his master in danger.
“Are you thinking we’re going to Croton?” Akenon asked. “The truth is, it crossed my mind, but I found two good reasons not to do that. The first is that you might have many allies in Croton. You’re a criminal and a traitor and, unfortunately, we know there are many of your kind, hoplites who sell themselves to Cylon, or whoever will pay them.” Akenon continued in an ironic tone. “Maybe you were hoping Cylon would save you? This morning I saw you meeting with one of his guards.”
Crisipo made no reply.
“The second reason not to go to Croton is that we were much closer to Sybaris.” Crisipo opened his eyes in alarm. “I see you’re reacting to that. Good, because you still have time to spare yourself some very unpleasant business. Maybe you’d prefer to talk to me before I hand you over to Glaucus.” Akenon let the name float in the air for a moment. “As you might imagine, he’ll have far fewer scruples when it comes to… interrogating you than the community might have.”
Crisipo’s mind was racing. Maybe Glaucus would look on him favorably given that he was the servant of the person who had furnished him with the knowledge he so much desired, but it was also very possible…
“It might help you in your decision to know that Glaucus has reestablished his good relationship with Pythagoras. The community receives envoys from him almost every day with friendly messages of good will and respect.” Akenon paused to let his words sink in. “Three days ago, Glaucus sent a message saying that the ship and crew which transported the gold prize must have been lost at sea. That ship was also carrying the masked man, Boreas, and you. My guess is Glaucus will want to ask you about that, too, and there’s nothing you can tell him that’s going to calm him down. I can’t remember if I mentioned he’s really angry about this. Have you ever seen Glaucus when he’s really angry?”
Curse you, Akenon! thought Crisipo. You’re trying to scare me about Glaucus so I’ll reveal where my master is.
Naturally, he wasn’t about to confess, but neither did he think he was capable of withstanding torture.
Two hours later, Akenon and Crisipo were in Glaucus’ palace, in the storeroom under the kitchen. The Sybarite was talking to Crisipo while he heated some iron rods.
“Do you know that in this very place your companion Boreas tortured someone I loved very much?”
Crisipo gritted his teeth and felt a dart of pain in his jaw. He was tied to a chair, a guard on each side.
“You left Sybaris over two weeks ago,” Glaucus commented with apparent nonchalance. “As well as the prize, you took a good ship and a valuable crew.” He turned to his prisoner with a strange smile. “I suppose, Crisipo, that your master ordered Boreas to kill my ship’s crew. Is that what happened?”
“I had nothing to do with it,” answered Crisipo in a faint voice.
“Of course not,” said Glaucus in an extremely kind tone, as if it was very important to him that Crisipo understood he didn’t suspect him. “I don’t believe you had anything to do with it.” He checked the iron rods. They were still not hot enough. “Unfortunately, we’re in this regrettable situation because you can tell us where your master is, the man who hides behind a black mask, but you don’t want to.”
Crisipo bowed his head as he shook it. He had to make an effort not to break down from fear, but he couldn’t keep his hands and legs from shaking.
Glaucus had been staring at him. Suddenly, his gaze became as cold as his voice. He murmured, “You’ll talk, Crisipo, you’ll talk.”
The Sybarite turned to Akenon, who watched silently, sitting on the steps to the storeroom. When he spoke again, his voice had regained its friendly tone.
“We don’t want to do this to you, Crisipo. You’re forcing us with your silence. This situation is repugnant to me.”
Glaucus looked at Akenon expectantly until he nodded, sickened. The Sybarite was requesting his moral authorization to torture Crisipo. He was asking Akenon to confirm he was a good Pythagorean, and that only because of extreme circumstances and for the good of the brotherhood was he sacrificing himself, doing something that was naturally abhorrent to him.
Glaucus turned around and gestured to the slave who was heating the embers by stoking them and blowing on them through a tube. The servant redoubled his efforts and the Sybarite continued.
“I suppose your master killed my crew so they wouldn’t tell us where he’s hiding. It’s understandable that he’d do that, since he’s the murderer of several great Pythagorean masters. Yes, it’s natural he’d do everything possible to prevent us finding him. Fortunately, we found you.”
Glaucus picked up an iron rod. Its tip glowed, incandescent. He shivered at the thought that a piece of red-hot iron like this had destroyed his beloved Yaco’s face. He turned with the iron rod in his hand and stopped when his eyes fell on Akenon.
Akenon convinced me Yaco was cheating on me.
He hesitated for a moment with the searing-hot rod pointed at Akenon. Finally, he shook his head and walked toward the terrified Crisipo.
His friendly smile had turned to an expression of savagery.
CHAPTER 88
July 10th, 510 B.C.
Ariadne had been in bed for hours, but couldn’t bring herself to put out the oil lamp. She knew it would be impossible to sleep. As soon as dinner was over, she had slipped away, missing the reading, and rushed to lock herself in her room. In spite of her best efforts to relax, she was still a bundle of nerves.
Part of her worry was over Akenon. She knew he had gone to Croton that morning to talk with Eteocles, and had looked for him later to see if he had obtained anything new relevant to the investigation. Even so, she hadn’t tried too hard to find him. Presumably he had spent the day in Croton and returned without her realizing it. It was probably best not to see him for a day.
What had her in a permanent state of anguish was something different.
She sat on the bed in her warm room, and sighed. Eyes unfocused, looking at nothing in particular, she slowly shook her head.
It can’t be, she thought, bewildered. It can’t be.
Nevertheless, the evidence was right there, beneath her. She got up and pulled a parchment from under the straw mattress. It was the document she had found at the bottom of her mother’s wooden chest. She had examined it a hundred times, but she unfolded it again with the same anxiety as the first times she’d looked at it.
She thought of her mother with conflicting feelings.
If she had had a better relationship with her it would be easier to face this. But she didn’t, which was why she felt tremendous loneliness as she studied the contents of the parchment again.
There was no doubt, her mother was an expert on the matter. Everything was described with meticulous precision, leaving no room for any other conclusion: ten days late, increased sensitivity, nausea…
I’m pregnant!
CHAPTER 89
July 10th, 510 B.C.
Akenon remained seated while Glaucus walked toward Crisipo, carrying the iron rod with its red-hot tip in front of him like a sword. He recalled the first torture he had witnessed, of Pharaoh Ahmose II’s conspirator cousin. A shiver ran through him, but he forced himself not to look away.
Glaucus had regained much of his former weight. His voluminous figure completely overshadowed Crisipo, like a large fish about to devour a little one. As he approached his prisoner, he slowed his pace, reveling in his victim’s terror and at the same time deciding where to apply the rod.
Akenon held his breath, his body tense, waiting for the first contact. Considering the lack of integrity Crisipo had shown, it was likely he’d cave in soon.
Though I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop Glaucus after Crisipo has confessed. The Sybarite had forced himself to maintain a friendly tone since their arrival, but had the same glint of madness in his eye that Akenon had seen when he ordered Boreas to kill and torture.
Glaucus advanced another step, ready to fall on his victim.
I’m so weary of all this, thought Akenon. He wanted to believe they were finally close to catching the murderer. He needed to retire once and for all and lead a quiet life in Carthage without having to witness tortures or murders.
Ariadne came into his mind, but the sound of a violent blow pulled him back from his thoughts. He stood up and quickly went to see what was happening. Glaucus had his back to him, blocking Crisipo from view. The Sybarite hit his prisoner with violent fury. Then he grabbed him by the hair and tried to stick the incandescent iron rod into his mouth.
Killing Pythagoras (Mediterranean Prize Winner 2015) Page 39
