sharp
clack
. Then he’d go back to the pebbles.
There were plenty more important questions pending, but I couldn’t help asking: ‘What are you doing?’
‘Experiments.’ He didn’t look up.
‘Some kind of art?’
‘Philosophy.’
They looked like children’s pictures to me, stick men and stick animals standing outside stick houses, surrounded by other, more abstract figures. A lot of triangles.
I remembered the figure on the beach. ‘Is this geometry?’
‘Geometry is the study of shapes. I’m concerned with number.’
‘I don’t see any numbers.’
‘You have to count them.’
He swept up the pebbles and started laying them out again, heavy and deliberate. ‘The world is made of numbers. One is a point. Two make a line. Three points defines a surface, and the fourth’ – the pebble went down – ‘creates volume. Solid objects.’
He drew lines in the sand with his finger to connect the stones. ‘You see? One, two, three, four. Do you think that’s a coincidence?’
‘Um …’
‘All things that exist have a number.’ He dealt out more pebbles, making another stick man. ‘If we can work out the number of each thing, we can understand how the world works.’
‘Who decided that?’ said Euphemus, from behind. He’d come down unnoticed and was peering over Eurytus’ shoulder at the picture in the sand.
‘The Philosopher. The first and greatest.’
‘Which philosopher?’
Eurytus wouldn’t answer. But staring at the triangles he’d drawn, I suddenly realised the answer. And I remembered Agathon’s letter.
A Pythagorean teacher has a book of wisdom he is willing to sell …
‘Was it Pythagoras? Are
you
a Pythagorean?’
He made a strange twisting gesture with his hand, and touched the gold locket at his neck. ‘Only the enlightened should say his name.’
‘I’ve come to Italy to find a friend of mine. He said he was studying with a Pythagorean’ – Eurytus flinched as I said the name again – ‘teacher. Did you meet him? He’s called Agathon.’
The question had an extraordinary effect. Eurytus looked as if he’d swallowed one of his own stones. He swept the pebbles up and rattled them into a small sack. ‘Truth is sacred,’ he muttered. ‘Not to be spoken.’
‘So many prohibitions,’ Euphemus observed. ‘Do you ever manage to say anything?’
I waved him to shut up. ‘Did Agathon come here? Stay with you?’ Agathon is one of the gentlest souls I know, but he has a razor-sharp mind – and he isn’t afraid to draw blood. I could imagine how the conversation might have gone if Eurytus had started showing him his stones.
The old man shook his head.
‘But you knew him?’
‘Archytas dealt with it. He can tell you.’
‘Dealt with what?’
‘Archytas can tell you,’ he repeated.
‘Who’s Archytas?’
He shut the bag with a drawstring and stood up.
‘I’ll take you to him.’
Six
Jonah – Sibari
The shadows spread across the trench, creeping over the drowned city. Volunteers gathered tools and stretched plastic sheeting over the remains. Lily still hadn’t come back.
He should have walked – he’d have been there by now. Now, he worried he’d miss her if she drove back while he was walking over. He dialled her number: it rang and rang until he almost tuned out the sound, but she didn’t answer.
He couldn’t wait any more. He jumped up and found Richard on the far side of the trench with two volunteers, examining a pot-handle embedded in the ground.
‘I’m going,’ Jonah said. ‘If Lily comes, tell her to call me.’
Richard’s head jerked up. ‘Sorry.’ He flapped a hand. ‘It’s all mad today. I’ll just be another minute.’
‘Forget it.’
‘OK, OK.’ Richard tossed his notebook to one of the volunteers and took a bunch of keys out of his pocket. ‘We’ll go now.’
Jonah followed him out of the trench and strapped himself into one of the pickups. The headache was back. The warmth of anticipation had cooled