In the Belly of the Beast - Pythagoras

Blog Post 2: c.525 BCE. In the Belly of the Beast

To the World, its Creatures, and all alive who bear witness,

I know not how long and wherefore I shall live out my days, for I am no longer in control of my life. Persia has come back, this time to Egypt under the reign of Cambyses the second of his name. Thankfully, my studies with the priesthood have provided such a deep assimilation into Egyptian society that the Persians have not noticed that I am of Athenian stock. So I am off to Babylon, for slavery or enlightenment, I know not.

I have heard from my priestly mentors that the Maogi of Babylon, their native priesthood, far older and more learned than the Egyptian Priesthood, have often welcomed strangers from the west. However, I hope such a friendship will free me from the shackles of slaver tyranny for I am merely days away from such bondage. I reside in the acolyte barracks of the Egyptian Priesthood’s stronghold, well fortified within the center of our city. However, I fear that within the fortnight Persian siege weapons will break us.

It is almost comical that these two cultures, so esteemed in their sacred worship of the Gods, can so violently destroy one another and their holy sites. As for myself, my numbers still haunt me everyday, for they lead me to the beauty of the Gods. Except in the past days it has been the numbers of death I have seen. Numbers reside everywhere, especially in death, and that is why everything can be reduced to numbers. I spoke with a priest the other day about the hunting party that was beheaded and returned to us by the Persian, saying “There were three men in the party and two boys, and all were killed, making five deaths in total. Therefore 3 + 5 must equal 9.” To this statement the priest replied, “yes, but nine what? What are you talking about?” Numbers my friend, I speak of the one truth I can place my life upon: everything in this world and everything that happens can be seen in numbers, giving us a language of sorts. Allowing us to speak in numbers and purely number, the true language of the Gods.

Alas, it is in the throes of the death of this holy city that I see the pain of the Gods. So wrong is it for brother and brother to raise a hand and destroy their mutual worship of holiness. No one should fight – destroy – for in all this chaos the work of the Gods and the men who pursue the holiest knowledge work in peril and die younger. My aforementioned acquaintance, the priest of whom I spoke was recently killed by a Persian patrol as he made his visit to the funeral temple outside the city gates.

And it is with such fear for my life that I find exhilaration in my work. I am alive, living each moment as I had hoped it would be. Yet I must leave this record, for if I am to die, another must assume the heavenly work of numbers. It is in this stone that I consecrate and record my thoughts so that my work may not be in vein.

Pythagoras, son of Mnesarchus.

Here is a map of my travels. I started in Samos, then traveled to Egypt, where I was sent to Babylon (home of the Persians), and finally I ended my days founding the "semicircle" of Pythagoras in Croton.