The Secret Key of Pythagorum

by Michele Angello

  Rainwater streamed down his face and stung his eyes.

  “No, sir! I would never do that, sir!”

  “Then what are you doing with my horse? I saw you mucking about with her halter.”

  “She recognized me and came out looking for oats, sir.”

  “And I’m supposed to believe you weren’t trying to steal her?” The sheriff grabbed his face and squeezed his jaw.

  “I could have done that weeks ago, sir, if I wanted to.”

  The sheriff hesitated. “Then what are you doing here?”

  “Just trying to get out of the rain.”

  The sheriff thought for a moment. “Well, I suppose I can believe that, as completely soaked to the bones as you are and as I’m becoming. It’s not exactly the best night for thievery.”

  Savaric’s shoulders slumped with relief. A long moment later the sheriff spoke again.

  “You can share the cave here, if you like.”

  Savaric mumbled his thanks and stepped closer to the fire. He looked deeper into the cave and saw the woman he had seen earlier, as well as another man, who sat on the ground next to a donkey. He turned to look out into the darkness beyond the cave. He mouthed the words “I’m sorry” and sat down next to the fire to try to get warm. There was nothing he could do for Elias. If he left the cave even for a moment in this driving rain, he risked exposing his friend and putting them both into the lockup. The sheriff was already suspicious of him. Elias would just have to fend for himself tonight.

  Savaric took off his cloak and carefully arranged it on the ground to dry next to the fire. He wasn’t sleepy, so he contented himself with staring at the fire and thinking of what his answers would be to the inevitable forthcoming questions. The silence stretched on for what seemed like ages, until the sheriff’s deep voice drawled out a faintly amused statement.

  “Henry said you were going to look at the sea,” the sheriff said.

  “Yes, sir, and I did.”

  “Didn’t spend much time there, did you? We are well inland from the sea, at least three days walking.”

  “It frightened me, sir. It was so big and loud and crashing. I thought it was going to sweep me into its icy grip. I came away from there the same day I arrived.”

  “Hmmf,” the sheriff snorted.

  “You saw it at its worst then,” the woman interjected solemnly. “The sea deserves to be seen in the sunlight, waters all a-sparkling like the king’s crown.”

  A guttural growling noise sounded. Savaric turned his head quickly to the mouth of the cave, expecting to see a wolf standing there, its teeth bared. Nothing was there but the wind and the rain continuing their fury. He turned his head back to the cave. The woman and the man sat quietly next to each other, not speaking. When Savaric looked at the sheriff, he realized from the dark look on his face that the growl had indeed come from him.

  That’s curious, he thought. I wonder what that growl was about.

  Soon the man prattled on with some story about a sailor who had told him a tale of sea monsters he had seen in the great northern sea. Savaric stayed quiet, hardly listening, concentrating on not looking out to see if he could glimpse Elias. Suddenly he dropped his head to his knee. The man, thinking he was reacting to his story, reached over and pushed him a little, saying, “Yes, yes, can you believe it?”

  Savaric nodded, trying to hide the emotions on his face. If only he had used the pine needles to be invisible when he approached the mouth of the cave, he wouldn’t be caught in this terrible cave with the sheriff watching his every move with his coal-black eyes. You are slower than an oak tree growing, he chided himself. You have this advantage and you don’t even use it. Think next time. Think! Savaric didn’t completely trust Elias yet, and he wanted to keep his ability a secret. He didn’t know how long he would be able to.

  Eventually, Savaric drifted off to sleep. When he awoke in the night, he saw that the sheriff had positioned himself across the mouth of the cave, either keeping them all safe, or keeping them all in. He was pretty sure it was the latter.

  In the early dawn hours, he was awakened by the startling view of the underbelly of a donkey and the equally startling sensation of being stepped over. One of the hooves grazed his shoulder. He moaned and grabbed his shoulder; the man mumbled something and continued leading the animal out. Savaric pulled his sleeve down and looked at the bright red rash mark on it. He quickly pulled it back up again when he saw the sheriff glaring at him, standing next to Fiona, getting her saddled up.

  “I should make you do this as a toll for letting you in out of the rain,” the sheriff muttered darkly.

  “Ah, yes,” Savaric said, surprised.

  “Never mind, I’m almost done,” the sheriff retorted. “Which way are you traveling?”

  Savaric stumbled again, his brain still muddled from sleep. “South, sir.” He immediately regretted saying it, but the road they traveled on went only north and south for many leagues, and he couldn’t exactly say he was going back north again to the sea.

  The sheriff held him in his steely stare for a few seconds more, then in one swift, well-practiced movement mounted Fiona and galloped away.

  Suddenly alone in the cave, Savaric sat on the ground by the dying embers of the fire. He watched the others leave, not believing he had made it through the night in arm’s reach of the sheriff. When he was certain they had walked far down the road, he rushed outside. He searched the surrounding forest, calling out for Elias, making sure not to call too loudly and so alert the sheriff. After looking for nearly an hour Savaric gave up and returned to the cave. His cloak still lay crumpled on the ground, and the fire was out. Noticing a dark spot on the inside of the cloak, he rushed over and checked the lining.

  “Oh, no, not another one!” The shards of the pottery made a tinkling sound. The donkey must have crushed it as it stepped over him. Another little crock was broken. Savaric sank to the ground, devastated. Elias was lost again, and one more way of keeping safe on this journey was also lost. Savaric sat and stared at the remains of the fire for a while. There’s nothing to do but keep going and hope I find him eventually, he thought. But this time I may as well use my cloak; it will keep me safe for now.

  Savaric made sure no one was approaching and then walked deeper into the cave to be sure he wasn’t seen. He adjusted the pine needles and the crocks and then walked out toward the road, chewing a piece of bread as he went. When he reached the road he turned south toward the witch tree and, he hoped, the Cave of Thor.

  CHAPTER 15

  “By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes.”

  -William Shakespeare, Macbeth

  As Savaric walked down the road in his invisible state, he realized a few things. One, he had made very little progress on his journey over the past few days, even less over the past few weeks, which had been taken up by rescuing Elias. Two, he made much more progress, much more safely, with the cloak on and without Elias tagging along. Which presented a problem: should he take the opportunity of the separation to leave him behind, or keep his promise and let Elias join him on his quest? Not an easy question to answer, and the thoughts dogged him all day.

  The hours stretched on as he walked down the southern road, which was smooth but winding, passing through the forest and then out in the open, past small farms and cottages. Savaric took advantage of the cloak at midday to snitch a bit of a farmer’s lunch—an apple and chunks of cheese that had been left on the table unattended. When added to his bit of bread it made a welcome change to his store of packable traveler’s fare.

  All the while, he kept looking at the trees on each side of the road, looking for something that made an ordinary tree into a witch tree. He really didn’t know what to expect—was it a place where witches met or lived? As the day wore on he became more and more nervous, knowing that the spot must be getting closer.

  In the late afternoon, he rounded a corner and for two reasons instantly knew that he had found the tree. For one, the great oak
stretched its limbs high into the sky twice as tall as any of the surrounding trees. The gnarled ancient trunk was strangely shaped. As he drew closer, Savaric could make out what looked like the face and body of a witch that had flown into the tree and got trapped there. Knotted bark covered the surprised look on her face and her gaping mouth. A small branch of the tree that had broken off was just at the right height for her broomstick. And two, curled up at the base of the tree, fast asleep, lay Elias.

  Savaric stopped a distance away from the witch tree and sat down on the side of the road. The question that had nagged him all day must be answered. He had the opportunity to sneak around Elias and make his way alone to the cave. He would travel faster and safer. Or he could keep his word and let him come with him. What would Elias do if he left him there alone? Suddenly Savaric realized that he really knew nothing about Elias—nothing about his family or where he came from, or even why he traveled alone.

  Overwhelmed with guilt, he realized that Elias could be an orphan and have nowhere to go. The least he could do was find out and send him to the place where he belonged. There would be other opportunities to leave him behind if he continued to hinder his own progress, especially with the cloak at his disposal. With his mind made up, Savaric retreated down the road to the last bend and moved the pine needles away from his body, back to their compartment in his cloak. He then walked back down the road to greet Elias.

  As he got closer to him, he called out to the younger boy.

  “Elias. Elias. Wake up!”

  Elias mumbled and turned over. Then he stretched and rubbed his eyes. He looked at Savaric and said sleepily, “It’s about time you got here. What took you so long?”

  “I looked for you outside the cave this morning. I had to wait for everyone to leave. Get up. Let’s get away from the road.”

  They walked away from the witch tree and into the forest. After a few minutes, they came to a clearing in the trees only a few feet wide. They sat down on the ground across from each other with their backs resting on two trees.

  “Can you believe it was the sheriff in that cave? I tried so hard to hide from him, but that horse!” Savaric said.

  “Aye, the horse knew you for sure.”

  “Where did you go last night? I’m sorry I had to leave you out there, but I really had no choice.”

  “That’s all right, I found a big tree with a dry spot underneath. Almost shared it with a rabbit or two! They weren’t expecting to find me in their spot, that’s for sure,” Elias replied, laughing. “Have you got anything to eat?”

  Savaric handed over some bread and hard cheese.

  “The sheriff asked me about going to the sea. He also thought I was trying to steal Fiona. I thought he was going to tie me up and throw me over her. I can’t believe I got away from him.”

  “I can’t either. We won’t be so lucky the next time. Now we have two people we’re trying to avoid.” He paused, chewing. “The witch tree looked just like it did in my dream,” Elias said.

  “Ah. Did you find the path that’s beside it?” Savaric said.

  “Aye. It picks up right behind it. Very easy to find.”

  After a few more minutes of comparing their experiences, and a few more of rest, they made their way back to the witch tree. Looking up at her ugly gnarled face, Savaric said, “How do you suppose that got there? Did she fly in by mistake?”

  Elias shivered. “I don’t want to know. Let’s just get on with it.”

  The path was easy to find, just as Elias had said. Before they turned down it, they backtracked to make sure no one saw which way they went. They walked south down the southern road a short way, turned left onto some hard ground that didn’t show their tracks, then diagonally crossed over through the forest and joined the path far down from where it began behind the witch tree. Feeling clever, they walked until nightfall and found a sheltered place by a rock outcropping to spend the night.

  Later in the evening, they climbed to the top of the outcropping and lay on their backs looking up at the night sky. The sky was exceptionally clear and cloudless, unlike the night before. The moon shone brightly, lighting up the hilly ground pockmarked with rocks, and leaving nothing to the imagination.

  “You’ve hardly said a word about yourself in all this time,” Savaric stated simply and quietly.

  “You didn’t ask. You were so busy trying to keep me from knowing anything about you, you didn’t even think to ask.”

  Savaric shrugged. “You can hardly blame me. You’re a stranger to me. Still are, really.”

  Elias sighed. “By the gods, Savaric. You can be difficult.” He sighed again. “I am from the land around Ur-i-canium. My mam and da are still there. I was on my way to my aunt’s in Mancunium when I met you on the road to Deva.”

  “Oh.” Savaric paused. “Why were you going there?”

  A pained look passed over Elias’s face. “I’m making this much too easy on you, you know. I had to hound you for hours before you gave me a tiny tittle about you.”

  Savaric stayed quiet.

  After a very long pause, while he searched for words so painful to him that he could hardly voice them, Elias said, “My aunt is supposed to care for me while they are in prison—debtor’s prison.”

  “Oh,” Savaric said, his jaw dropping. “How…”

  “How? How did they end up in there? Or how do they get out? They’re just country farmers with a bad run with their crops is all. They borrowed money to plant more and couldn’t pay it back. As far as getting out—well, that’s up to me.”

  “You have to break them out?” Savaric said, incredulous.

  “No, silly. They can’t get out until their debt is paid. And since I’m the only one not in prison, I have to find a way to pay it.”

  “Ah. I suppose it must be a lot of coin.”

  “Yes, Savaric, it’s a lot of coin,” Elias replied testily. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do it in twenty years as a grown man, much less as a young one.”

  A long silence stretched and spread thickly between them, oozing out stickily as each sat with his own thoughts.

  The bubble broke as Elias said sharply, “Well, I think I’ll try to get some sleep.” He stood up and clambered back down over the rocks toward their fire and bedrolls. Savaric mumbled in agreement and followed him.

  Far across the field of outcroppings, in the shadow of a gray boulder, a pair of cold dark eyes watched the boys’ movements—and planned.

  The next morning, while eating a quick breakfast, the boys talked over the strategy for the day.

  “Do we need to wait for nightfall again to travel?” Elias asked.

  Savaric chewed thoughtfully. “I think that now we’re off the main road, it’s probably all right. We can just keep our eyes open as we walk so we don’t run into anyone.”

  “Good. I hate walking in the dark. So this path leads to the cave?”

  “That’s what the girl said. We should get there today.”

  “Good. Let’s go.” Elias hoisted his pack onto his back and walked over to the path.

  The going was slow. The path wound its way over boulders and through rocky uneven ground. Several times they lost the path and had to backtrack to find it again. It was a drawn-out and frustrating way to travel, but fortunately they saw no other travelers.

  Savaric stumbled on a rock protruding from the ground and fell hard. He cried out in pain, grabbing his knee. He sucked in his breath, making a hissing sound. Wincing and rocking, he finally peeled his hands away to see what damage had happened. His bloody hands revealed a wide gash on his kneecap that straggled over to one side.

  Elias said, “Ooh. That’s a nasty one.”

  “Oh, it pains me,” Savaric gasped.

  While Savaric waited for the pain to subside, Elias tore off a strip of cloth from his inner shirt. He wrapped it carefully around Savaric’s knee, then helped him up. They started on their way again, but their going was even slower now that Savaric had to lean heavily on Elia
s.

  As the day wore on, the rocky path smoothed out and the hills rose up around them. Savaric hobbled on his wounded knee. While walking through a grassy glen surrounded by small hills, he noticed a dark spot on the hill above them.

  “Look, there it is,” he said—and collapsed to the ground.

  CHAPTER 16

  “Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon and blow, Blow him again to me; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.”

  Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Sweet and Low

  495 BC. Off the coast of present-day United Kingdom

  Kleitos leaned against the bow of the ship, peering through the fog. Its tentacles swirled thickly around them, making ghostly shapes out of the wind and the waves. They had inched through the thick soup for hours watching for reefs or land—anything besides the world that was swathed in glowing white. A man watched from the mast above. Luckily, this time he didn’t need to be lashed to it in these calm seas. The captain handed off the spyglass to his mate.

  “Here, mate, look for a while. My eyes are watering from all the white.”

  At that moment, the sailor on the mast cried out, “Land ho! Straight ahead!”

  Kleitos turned to his companion and thumped his hand on the man’s chest. “Yes! At last. Now we just need to find a safe place.”

  Elias nudged Savaric with his foot. “What’s the matter with you? What did you fall down for?”

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, you trollop, I’m injured here,” Savaric replied sharply, cradling his knee.

  “Really? I hadn’t noticed, since I’m the one carrying you!”

  “Yes, really,” Savaric said scathingly. “It hasn’t stopped hurting since I fell.”

  “Well, you really are quite the baby, aren’t you? I’ve never seen anyone whine about a cut as much as you have.”

  Savaric stared at him coldly for a moment, then turned his attention to the hill up ahead.