Murmurs of understanding were heard. Antagoras was eighty and hadn’t left Taranto for quite a while due to a bone disease.
Arquipus explained that both he and Lysis, seated next to him, were attending as Antagoras’ representatives. Lysis wasn’t yet a grand master, and was only thirty-five years old, but Pythagoras knew that Antagoras considered him his most outstanding disciple.
Antagoras has organized his own succession committee, thought Pythagoras approvingly. Antagoras had the same quandary as he did—he didn’t have a single successor who embodied all the right qualities—but he had remedied that problem by naming a group of disciples. He looked to his right. Milo, Evander, and Hippocreon were listening attentively to Arquipo’s words. Those three were part of the succession committee that would lead the entire Pythagorean brotherhood. Only Theano was missing, having stayed behind as head of the Crotonian community for the two days of the summit.
Pythagoras bowed his head, leaning his forehead on his hand, momentarily dissociating himself from his surroundings. He was very worried for Akenon, about whom they had heard nothing for three days. However, what was tormenting his soul dreadfully was Ariadne’s absence. His little one had disappeared two days ago without a trace. Milo had sent out numerous patrols in search of her, but so far they had come up with nothing.
Pythagoras felt his eyes well up and hid his face with his hand. He was beginning to fear the worst.
The masked man rode through the forest toward his next destination. He felt satisfied, mulling over the events of the Council session that had just ended.
It was so easy to manipulate them and incite them to attack the Three Hundred like wild animals.
After the soldiers had taken the Pythagorean councilors away, he had addressed the rest of the Council from the dais, alone, so they’d get used to seeing him separate from Cylon. He knew that soon they would all treat him with the same reverence they had shown Pythagoras in his best times.
Not the same, he corrected himself with passionate euphoria. They’ll venerate me as a god.
He smiled, baring his teeth under the mask. The sensation of power he was experiencing was so intense he felt immortal.
He looked to his right. Cylon’s radiant expression revealed that he, too, was fulfilling his life’s dream. The masked man reflected for a moment on his political ally. I don’t think he’ll give me any trouble. Cylon followed orders without objecting, and seemed to be satisfied with destroying the Pythagoreans, which was what the masked man had made possible for him.
The masked man looked forward abruptly. Something was approaching through the forest. A moment later, one of the soldiers they had sent out to reconnoiter the area appeared.
“I got as far as Milo’s house,” said the soldier. “It’s just five minutes from here. They have a patrol unit in the forest with ten élite soldiers, another five at the door of the house, and possibly a few more inside.”
The masked man nodded silently. Pythagoras, you pathetic old man, twenty hoplites are all that separate me from you and your “grand masters.” He turned to Cylon and saw that the politician was looking at him expectantly. Perfect, he’s waiting for me to direct operations.
The masked man turned his horse around to face the soldiers following them. He had to make an effort to contain his euphoria when he looked at them.
Three hundred well-armed hoplites awaited his orders.
CHAPTER 123
July 29th, 510 B.C.
Ariadne was tied so tightly to the chair, the blood was unable to circulate through her wrists or ankles, and she could no longer feel them. In contrast, relentless, intense pain scourged her back and arms. Fortunately, she was able to use her father’s teachings to escape her physical suffering. Thanks to her training, she had elevated her mind to a level beyond the reach of her body’s torment.
But she couldn’t free herself from the emotional pain.
Akenon’s death had plunged her into harrowing anguish. She imagined that she, too, would die shortly, but thinking that Akenon had died hurt her much more. In spite of the pain, though, she hadn’t given up, and intended to fight to the end. It probably wouldn’t change anything, but the life beating in her womb gave her the energy to want to try.
During the two days she had been confined she had thought much about her father. It made her desperate not to be able to let him know the enemy’s surprising identity. There were moments when she yielded to the temptation to daydream, and imagined herself with her father and Akenon, their enemy chained at their feet. But dreaming didn’t change the facts, so she chased those images from her mind and forced herself to face her tragic circumstances.
Startled by a noise outside, next to the door, she lifted her head suddenly and looked in that direction. In the light visible beneath the door, she could see the shadow of someone standing on the other side. She clenched her jaw and her breath quickened. Without warning, the door swung open violently, knocking against the wall. A bright light made her close her eyes. She could see nothing, but heard a grunt that made her hair stand on end. She sensed a presence coming closer and could smell its pungent sweat.
Though she feared what she would see, Ariadne opened her eyes.
The terror surpassed the nightmares of her adolescence.
CHAPTER 124
July 29th, 510 B.C.
Androcles, an infantry officer in the Crotonian army, walked at a leisurely pace toward Milo’s villa. He had just emerged from the forest and was crossing the open ground in front of the house. His demeanor didn’t appear to be hostile—it looked as if he were out for a stroll.
But there were fifty soldiers behind him.
Sauro, the chief guard stationed by Milo at the door of his country house, unsheathed his sword and gestured to his men to line up beside him.
Androcles was pleased to see that Sauro had called the soldiers inside the villa out as well. Besides, he hadn’t raised the alarm. Most probably, the Pythagorean masters were unaware of anything untoward.
He stopped a few yards from Sauro, who gave him a surly look. It was an open secret that Androcles was on Cylon’s payroll and had been one of the main players responsible for the sacking of Sybaris.
“By order of the Council, I come to place Pythagoras under arrest,” said Androcles calmly.
Sauro’s eyebrows rose. He hadn’t expected that. Quickly regaining his composure, he curtly answered Androcles.
“We’re here to stop anyone from entering this house, by order of Milo, commander-in-chief of the army and, as such, your highest authority.”
Androcles watched Sauro with contempt. He despised soldiers like him, always so upright and keen to do their duty.
“Milo isn’t above the Council,” he replied.
Sauro scrutinized Androcles’ face. It didn’t look like that corrupt officer would be swayed by reason.
“I’ll go get Milo,” he said grudgingly. “We’ll see who you decide to obey.”
“Don’t worry about me,” replied Androcles, scoffing.
Sauro hesitated a moment longer, then turned around, thinking on his feet. Ten of us against fifty. We can’t overpower them by force. Maybe the best thing would be for Pythagoras and the masters to escape through a window while they tried to hold back the soldiers that had just arrived.
As Sauro walked away, his soldiers remained in front of Androcles with their swords unsheathed. They saw the corrupt officer turn his back on them, but they didn’t notice him take out his knife and grasp it by the tip.
Suddenly, Androcles turned and threw the weapon. Its blade lodged in Sauro’s back up to the hilt.
That was the signal for his fifty men to attack.
CHAPTER 125
July 29th, 510 B.C.
Burning with lust, Boreas stared at Ariadne.
The young woman’s jaw trembled as she looked at him, her eyes wide. Her fear excited Boreas, but he was even more aroused by the internal strength he perceived in her. Even though she was terrified, she
hadn’t fallen apart the way many of his victims did.
But she’ll eventually beg me to kill her.
He approached her slowly, savoring every moment. Ariadne’s features were as beautiful as those of a goddess. Her mouth was slightly open, emphasizing the fullness of her trembling lips. The skin on her neck was as smooth and taut as her naked breast. She pressed her back against the chair in an instinctive attempt to get away from him, without realizing that doing so accentuated her voluptuous breasts.
Boreas’ unhurried approach was as frightening as his phenomenal size. It displayed a cold, intense sadism that caused a new wave of terror to race through Ariadne’s body. She noticed she was getting gooseflesh and her nipples were hardening. The giant stretched out a hand and stroked the contour of her breast with the rough skin of one finger. Then he pinched the hard nipple with surprising delicacy. Another shiver ran through her. The giant enjoyed forcing his victims little by little, as well as brutally ripping them apart.
Ariadne sensed he would show her both of these sides.
Boreas’ enormous head came close to her ear, and Ariadne pulled away as far as she could. The giant took her head in one hand, put his lips to her ear, and whispered with his warm, moist breath. His thick lips slowly brushed Ariadne’s ear, but because he had no tongue all she heard was an incomprehensible gurgle.
That wet babble resonating in her ear brought on the first tears.
Boreas began to undress her. Since she was tied to the chair, he had to rip her tunic. The giant did this carefully, holding the fabric in both hands so as not to hurt her, as if he believed she might appreciate his thoughtfulness.
When he finished, Boreas took a few steps back and grunted with satisfaction. His victim was completely naked. Her bound hands and ankles kept her arms behind her body and her legs spread, as if offering herself to him. Looking at her, he felt such intense arousal he feared he’d lose his self-control.
I must hold back or I’ll kill her too quickly.
Ariadne was sobbing with rage and fear. She had closed her eyes, but opened them again when she realized she hadn’t heard Boreas in a while.
The giant was still in front of her, devouring her with his eyes. He removed his loincloth and stood before her completely naked.
His erection was as overwhelming as the rest of his body.
CHAPTER 126
July 29th, 510 B.C.
“Silence!”
Arquipus of Taranto was taken aback at being interrupted mid-sentence with his hands raised in a gesture he hadn’t quite completed. He turned to the person who had interrupted him.
Maybe my speech has gone on a bit long, he thought, somewhat bothered, but that doesn’t justify such rudeness.
Seated in the corner nearest the door was Diocles of Himera, a sixty-year-old grand master who generally had a placid look about him. At that moment, Diocles’ face was tense as he leaned toward the door, raising his hand to stop the talking.
Milo was in the corner opposite Diocles. He tensed, straining to hear like the others. His military experience told him at once that what they were hearing was the sound of swords clashing. Shouts of combat were also audible, as well as the cries of wounded men.
He sprang up so quickly the chair fell over. He had left his sword leaning against the wall near the door. He ran across the room followed by the masters’ frightened eyes. Picking up his weapon, he unsheathed the short, sharp blade and prepared to go out.
As he was about to cross the threshold, the door was closed from the outside. Milo pushed in an attempt to open it, but there must have been several men forcing it shut from the other side. A second later they heard something being lodged against the door.
“Who the devil is out there?” he roared furiously. “I am General Milo. Open the door right now.”
The only response was a scraping sound, indicating that outside they were still busy barricading the door.
Milo turned around. The masters looked at him, frightened. For a second, no one reacted, as if tension had frozen them to the spot.
At the back of the room one of the youngest masters stood up suddenly.
“Let’s go out the window!” he shouted, his voice shrill with tension.
Several men leapt from their seats, rushing toward what seemed their only escape route.
“Watch out!” exclaimed Milo.
His warning came too late.
As the first masters reached the window, several lances were hurled through the opening. Some landed harmlessly, but one grazed Arquipo’s side, and the most accurate lodged itself in Hippocreon’s neck.
The grand master fell to the ground, trying to pull it out.
Pythagoras shuddered as if he had been the one pierced by the lance. He rushed to his fallen disciple and began dragging him away from the open window.
He didn’t see the next lance coming.
The metal tip sank into his left hip with a crunch of breaking bone. Pythagoras fell, suppressing a cry of pain. With his left hand, he grabbed the shaft and yanked out the lance, then tugged at Hippocreon’s body again until both were away from the window. He dragged himself to his disciple to examine him and had to repress a sob. Hippocreon had managed to remove the lance, but in the middle of his throat was a horrific wound, a gaping black and red mouth that continuously vomited blood. The grand master made a gurgling noise when he tried to breathe.
Pythagoras forced himself to be calm. He took Hippocreon’s hand and looked deep into his eyes, accompanying him on his final journey. His disciple returned his gaze valiantly and blinked slowly. He was ready. They said their goodbyes in silence, and Hippocreon’s face relaxed.
Pythagoras closed his disciple’s eyes and leaned his forehead against his friend’s.
When his attention returned to the room, he saw they had secured the shutters on the window and pushed a large wooden chest against it. With the door and window closed, the room was left in semidarkness.
Evander was kneeling beside him. He had watched his companion’s death in silence.
“Master, you’re injured.” He pointed at the wound, his voice racked with pain.
Pythagoras touched his left leg. It was soaked in blood and he couldn’t move it. He held on to Evander and stood up, his face twisted in pain, then looked around in silence. In the darkness of the room he could see the pale shadows of people’s tunics, but not their expressions. Even so, the atmosphere among the group was obvious. Although the masters’ self-restraint enabled them to remain calm, their fear was palpable.
He closed his eyes with a heavy heart.
Gods, what have I done?
With that meeting he had given his enemy the perfect opportunity to assassinate almost all the prominent members of the brotherhood at once. If he hadn’t summoned them all there…
“I’m going to give myself up,” he announced.
Hopping on one foot, he turned toward the window. Milo quickly intervened.
“Pythagoras, I would gladly give my life before letting you end up in the hands of those murderers.”
“Master,” Evander interjected, holding his shoulder, “we won’t allow it, just as you wouldn’t if it was the other way around.”
The shadows filled with murmurs of agreement. Pythagoras was about to reply when a shout from the other side of the room startled him.
“There’s someone on the roof!”
They all looked up, holding their breath. They could hear crunching sounds that seemed to come from one…two…at least three or four men.
“What are they doing?” someone whispered.
That question was in everyone’s mind. Milo listened carefully without realizing he was gripping his sword so tightly his knuckles had gone white. His mind was churning, trying to guess what the soldiers outside could be planning.
The noises on the roof ceased after five minutes.
They’ve come down, thought Milo in distress. He peered around. The masters looked like a group of lost souls. He couldn’t
think of any way to address the situation. They were locked in, surrounded by soldiers, with no information about what was happening outside.
There must be many of them if they finished off my hoplites so quickly.
To make matters worse, his companions in that trap weren’t well-equipped soldiers, but instead, forty peaceable masters, unarmed, with an average age of sixty.
We’re completely at the mercy of the enemy, he told himself, feeling an impotent rage.
Standing beside Milo, Pythagoras noticed a different noise coming from outside. Everyone must have been listening to it because all waited in suspenseful silence. Pythagoras placed his ear against the rough wall and heard what sounded like a sudden gust of wind.
It’s coming from the roof, he concluded after a few seconds.
He closed his eyes to concentrate but suddenly opened them again and inhaled, his nostrils wide. At the same moment several masters shouted in terror what he had been thinking.
“Fire!”
CHAPTER 127
July 29th, 510 B.C.
Ariadne didn’t want to look at Boreas, but couldn’t drag her eyes away from the giant. The monster was the outsized incarnation of her worst nightmares.
The heat and agitation were making them perspire, and the drops ran down their naked bodies. Ariadne’s bonds prevented her from closing her legs, making her feel extremely vulnerable. Nevertheless, there was still a tiny glimmer of hope.
Boreas can’t rape me while I’m tied to the chair.
The giant would have to untie her, and at that moment she would do everything in her power to escape.
Boreas stood behind Ariadne where she couldn’t see him. For a while, she couldn’t hear the monster’s breathing either. Only his musky smell reached her, making the hair on the back of her neck stand up. Shivers ran down her spine as she waited for his touch. Suddenly, the giant placed his hands on her shoulders, lowered them to her breasts and began to paw them roughly.
Killing Pythagoras (Mediterranean Prize Winner 2015) Page 54
