Killing Pythagoras (Mediterranean Prize Winner 2015) by Marcos Chicot Read Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Marcos Chicot
her all the more.
That night, alone in his bed at the inn, Akenon mulled over the events of the day. Before falling asleep he made himself a promise:
In Croton he would make Ariadne welcome him into her bed.
They arrived at their destination as dusk fell the following day.
The route followed the coastline, which became less rugged as it neared Croton. Akenon watched with interest as his mule wearily plodded along the last stretch of the journey. The city of Croton had been built facing the sea, its bustling port at its center. Over the years, it had expanded inland, tailing off in the foothills that stood guard over it from the rear. It wasn’t as large as Sybaris, but even so, Akenon was impressed by its expanse. He was also surprised by the size and magnificence of its main buildings. There was a reason it was the second most populous city in Magna Graecia.
Instead of entering the city, they skirted it in silence, riding toward the nearest hill. On the lower part of the hillside, just over half a mile from the Croton city limits, a simple hedge formed a rectangle of three hundred by two hundred yards. Clustered within it were several buildings, some temples, and small gardens dotted with statues. It looked like a small suburb of Croton, linked to it by a winding path that resembled a long umbilical cord. As if the large city and the village formed a mystical symbiosis.
The road along which they were traveling intersected that winding path, and Ariadne led the little group away from Croton, toward the strange collection of buildings. It was the Pythagorean community, built by the city of Croton so that Pythagoras could convert it into the center of his powerful enlightenment. In the past few decades, the Pythagorean brotherhood had gone from being a modest institution with a few dozen participants to the most dynamic and influential School of its time. Six hundred disciples lived in the buildings of the Croton community, there were thousands of supporters of the doctrine spread throughout various cities, and the School controlled dozens of governments.
Although Akenon was unaware of it, there was a reason Pythagoras’ fame wasn’t even more widespread: among the main tenets of the School was the secrecy that surrounded many aspects of the brotherhood, and specifically the heart of its wisdom. The oath of secrecy the members took was so strict they could not even commit their main discoveries to paper. Pythagoras was known for his political power and his immense reputation as a teacher and spiritual leader. Nonetheless, the only way to access the knowledge he possessed was to try to grow close to him and be accepted.
Being admitted to the School wasn’t easy, and reaching the highest echelon was almost impossible. Everyone was witness to the master’s powerful radiance, but very few were able to contemplate it close up. Over the three decades that the brotherhood had existed, only six grand masters had succeeded in becoming part of Pythagoras’ intimate circle. One of them, Cleomenides, had been murdered. Of the five remaining, only the one Pythagoras named as his successor would receive his powerful enlightenment in its entirety.
As he neared the compound, a shiver ran down Akenon’s spine. It was impossible to be unaffected by the aura of spirituality that embraced the community. He forgot about his attractive travel companion, with whom he hadn’t exchanged a word since glimpsing the community. His mind was focused on the energetic, enigmatic man he had met in Egypt. He was about to meet him again, but now he was no longer just a remarkable man.
He had become the master of masters.
At the gate of the compound, a small reception committee awaited them. Standing at the front was the great Pythagoras. Drawn by his irresistible magnetism, Akenon couldn’t take his eyes off him. The master was distinguished by his impressive height, but above all because he seemed to radiate a special light,
That night, alone in his bed at the inn, Akenon mulled over the events of the day. Before falling asleep he made himself a promise:
In Croton he would make Ariadne welcome him into her bed.
They arrived at their destination as dusk fell the following day.
The route followed the coastline, which became less rugged as it neared Croton. Akenon watched with interest as his mule wearily plodded along the last stretch of the journey. The city of Croton had been built facing the sea, its bustling port at its center. Over the years, it had expanded inland, tailing off in the foothills that stood guard over it from the rear. It wasn’t as large as Sybaris, but even so, Akenon was impressed by its expanse. He was also surprised by the size and magnificence of its main buildings. There was a reason it was the second most populous city in Magna Graecia.
Instead of entering the city, they skirted it in silence, riding toward the nearest hill. On the lower part of the hillside, just over half a mile from the Croton city limits, a simple hedge formed a rectangle of three hundred by two hundred yards. Clustered within it were several buildings, some temples, and small gardens dotted with statues. It looked like a small suburb of Croton, linked to it by a winding path that resembled a long umbilical cord. As if the large city and the village formed a mystical symbiosis.
The road along which they were traveling intersected that winding path, and Ariadne led the little group away from Croton, toward the strange collection of buildings. It was the Pythagorean community, built by the city of Croton so that Pythagoras could convert it into the center of his powerful enlightenment. In the past few decades, the Pythagorean brotherhood had gone from being a modest institution with a few dozen participants to the most dynamic and influential School of its time. Six hundred disciples lived in the buildings of the Croton community, there were thousands of supporters of the doctrine spread throughout various cities, and the School controlled dozens of governments.
Although Akenon was unaware of it, there was a reason Pythagoras’ fame wasn’t even more widespread: among the main tenets of the School was the secrecy that surrounded many aspects of the brotherhood, and specifically the heart of its wisdom. The oath of secrecy the members took was so strict they could not even commit their main discoveries to paper. Pythagoras was known for his political power and his immense reputation as a teacher and spiritual leader. Nonetheless, the only way to access the knowledge he possessed was to try to grow close to him and be accepted.
Being admitted to the School wasn’t easy, and reaching the highest echelon was almost impossible. Everyone was witness to the master’s powerful radiance, but very few were able to contemplate it close up. Over the three decades that the brotherhood had existed, only six grand masters had succeeded in becoming part of Pythagoras’ intimate circle. One of them, Cleomenides, had been murdered. Of the five remaining, only the one Pythagoras named as his successor would receive his powerful enlightenment in its entirety.
As he neared the compound, a shiver ran down Akenon’s spine. It was impossible to be unaffected by the aura of spirituality that embraced the community. He forgot about his attractive travel companion, with whom he hadn’t exchanged a word since glimpsing the community. His mind was focused on the energetic, enigmatic man he had met in Egypt. He was about to meet him again, but now he was no longer just a remarkable man.
He had become the master of masters.
At the gate of the compound, a small reception committee awaited them. Standing at the front was the great Pythagoras. Drawn by his irresistible magnetism, Akenon couldn’t take his eyes off him. The master was distinguished by his impressive height, but above all because he seemed to radiate a special light,
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