Minotaur Page 7

  “How do you feel about Kyon now? Do you still think about him?” asked Ovid.

  “I haven’t thought about him in a long, long time. The memories are … painful,” said Ast, his face betraying little emotion.

  “What happened afterward?” asked Ovid.

  “I was taken back to the palace. There were a few cells beneath the palace. Minos had me thrown into one of them to reflect on my ways. I was guilty of having a pet he hadn’t sanctioned as well as running off rather than face my punishment. I was kept in that cell for three days with no food and only a little water. It was a small taste of things to come.”

  “So you were put in the labyrinth then?”

  “No,” said Ast, slowly shaking his head. “Not until many years later. The labyrinth wasn’t built yet. But I will answer all your questions tomorrow. I think you’ve heard enough for now.”

  “Perhaps a little longer?” asked Ovid hopefully.

  “I am tired,” said Ast. “My tale is more draining than I thought. I need to rest. We will continue tomorrow.”

  Ovid knew there was no point in arguing. Besides, he was dreadfully tired himself. He stifled a huge yawn and looked around. “Shall I sleep in here then?” he asked.

  “Take my bed in the adjoining room. I will not need it tonight. I have … much to think on, and I wish to be alone.”

  Ast helped Ovid stagger to his feet and half carried him to his small cot. Almost as soon as the poet was horizontal, he was asleep. He started to snore. Loudly.

  Ast watched him for a while, then, content that the other man was comfortable, left him to his dreams.

  He ventured outside. It was a clear night. The skies were alive and bright with stars. Ast sat down. He reached into his tunic, and his questing fingers brought forth a small figurine in the shape of a dog. A figurine he had carved with his own hands to honor and remember the bond between him and Kyon.

  And then he began to cry, remembering a friend who was over a thousand years dead.

  Chapter 6

  Life moved on. I gradually came to terms with the death of Kyon although I never forgave Ariadne and Glaucus. In fact, I only spoke to them when I had to, and even then, it was an effort to be civil. Apart from my father, I have never hated two people more.

  We grew older, and apart from little mischiefs stirred up by Ariadne and Glaucus, I was happy. Not only that, but relieved too. Even though I wanted to believe that I was the same as my brothers and sisters, now I embraced the truth. To confess, there was a part of my mind, deep, deep below my conscious thoughts that always knew Minos couldn’t be my father. That didn’t want him to be my father. I guess I didn’t want to discover that my father was some common fisherman from one of the nearby villages. Not that I had a problem with that as such, but it would’ve been another reason for my siblings and others at the palace to hate me. Besides, if Minos had discovered that my mother had cheated on him with a commoner, I would’ve been banished with her from the palace, never to see Phaedra again.

  As it was, my father was a god. A god! And not just any god. Poseidon, one of the great three gods. Brother of Zeus and Hades. The sons of Cronos and Rhea, they divided the world up amongst themselves. Zeus, being the most powerful, took the sky, Poseidon the sea, and Hades the underworld.

  It was odd thinking I was the son of Poseidon. I never had any affinity with the sea. Despite it being less than two hour’s walk to the coast, I rarely made the effort. If anyone was a child of Poseidon, it should’ve been Phaedra. On hot summer’s days, when our busy schedules permitted, she would make the journey, often by herself, with only a servant for company. When I was able and inclined, I occasionally accompanied her. I confess I had an ulterior motive. The water clung to her long dress, emphasizing her curves that were no longer a girl’s.

  Ariadne and Phaedra both flowered into extraordinarily beautiful woman. Both were fourteen now, two years younger than I and ripe to be married off to some King or Prince somewhere. I often lay awake at night, my heart filled with longing and despair. We could never be together, despite the fact that we were no longer related. Even if Minos had viewed me with favor, I was not a suitable husband for his daughter, having no kingdom, advantageous political alliance, or dowry to offer.

  Age had not mellowed Ariadne at all. If anything, she had gotten worse. Her tongue spat acid, and she used any opportunity to deride me. I avoided her as much as I could.

  The warning of my mother was never far from my thoughts. There would come a time when I needed to leave the island and seek out my destiny, but I delayed mostly because I dreaded the separation from Phaedra. But the time was coming.

  I was sixteen now, a man. And not just any man. I was taller than anyone, including Androgeus, by a head and massive with it. I weighed as much as two smaller men. My vigorous training regime ensured that most of it was thick muscle. I stood out amongst my smaller fellows like a sapling amidst grass and drew attention wherever I went. Even my father couldn’t ignore me. Catching glimpses of him around the palace, I noted that he would stop to consider me, looking me up and down, assessing with cold eyes.

  It wasn’t just my body that had grown. Unfortunately, the horns atop my head kept pace with the growth going on in other areas. They were a source of embarrassment. I drew enough attention with my size alone; the horns were an unwelcome addition. Not only that, but I was painfully aware of my looks.

  Compared to Phaedra, Ariadne, and Androgeus, I was almost ugly with thick, homely features. Not exactly looks which made the girls flock around me like they did with Androgeus.

  When time permitted, I had been spending a few hours with Daedalus and Icarus in their workshop. I loved to watch them work, and Daedalus would often get me to help out. Icarus and I began to bond. He was extremely bright, with long dexterous fingers. I also discovered that he was willful, often arguing with his father over small matters. Although we seldom talked casually, we would often discuss projects until late in the night. It was he who came up with a solution to at least two of my problems.

  More than once, I caught him looking at my horns.

  “Do they bother you?” he asked one evening.

  “What?” I replied, knowing exactly what he was talking about but choosing to be deliberately uncooperative. My horns were a bit of a sensitive issue.

  “Your horns.”

  “What do you think?” I said, unable to keep the sarcasm from my voice. Luckily, Icarus seemed to be almost immune to sarcasm.

  “I think they probably do,” he replied eventually, giving the matter some thought. “Not only do they draw attention to you, but I’d imagine it makes physical activity difficult.”

  I blushed heavily. I knew he was probably referring to my sessions in the gymnasium, but I couldn’t help but think about the kisses and caresses I’d shared with Phaedra. I’d told Phaedra about my conversation with my mother and my heritage. She’d never had any doubts, always knowing in her heart that I wasn’t her brother. Of course, the knowledge, now out in the open between us, freed us to pursue … other matters.

  He was right though. The horns did make life difficult. They were as large and impressive as a fully-grown bull by now, curving first outward and then in to point directly in front of my forehead. I had to be extraordinarily careful when kissing Phaedra for fear of damaging her. Likewise in the gymnasium. I’d inadvertently gored a few of my opponents several times. Androgeus bore several scars even though I’d taken to blunting the ends with a file. He, of course, never said a thing to his father. My brother was a great man, more so due to recent events, having won the marathon at the previous Panathenaic games, despite being only sixteen at the time.

  “What do you suggest?” I asked. I’d thought about it before, but the only solution that came to mind was cutting them off. I tried that. Once. The pain was just too intense. I tried to saw through one, only to black out after the first few cuts, regaining consciousness face down on the cold marble floor.

/>   “You’ve tried cutting them off?” he asked, almost like he was reading my mind. When I nodded, he ruminated further.

  “If removing the problem isn’t the answer, how about concealing it?”

  “Concealment?” I spluttered. “How am I supposed to conceal these things? Cover them with flowers? Paint them to match the colors of the sky?”

  “No,” said Icarus finally. “I have something else in mind.” He explained and the simplicity of it astounded me. Why hadn’t I thought of that?

  We worked together on the project with what free time we had. Icarus was a skilled craftsman, having learnt from his father. I in turn, learnt from him although I lacked his gift and the dexterous fingers needed for such fine work.

  Daedalus helped, but even so, it took us two weeks of hard labor. But it was worth it.

  Icarus helped put it on my head and then moved a mirror of polished bronze into a position where I could see my reflection.

  “Well?” he asked finally.

  We’d constructed a helmet. Not just any helmet either. Most helmets during this time were made from slivers of boar tusks, sewn onto a leather base. Mine was different in several ways. Holes had been bored into the front plates, cleverly enabling my horns to slide through. So skillfully had Icarus wrought that only a close inspection would reveal that the horns weren’t actually an extension of the helmet itself. To a stranger, the horns would appear as a fearsome adornment of a battle helm. It wasn’t unknown to wear such things although most helms had boar tusks instead of those of a bull. The helmet was also strengthened with strips of layered bronze making it extremely strong. Not only that, but Icarus had constructed a hinged plate that could slide down over my face.

  I fixed the faceplate into position and regarded myself in the mirror.

  “Do you like it?” asked Icarus hopefully. I could tell he was excited. I never would’ve believed it, but it seemed like Icarus had a sense of humor after all.

  The face of a bull stared back at me from the mirrored surface.

  Ω

  My new helmet, despite its clever design, was not much use in day-to-day living. I could hardly walk around the palace of Knossos wearing it, could I? It was designed for battle, its practical use to disguise myself in front of those who didn’t know me. Unfortunately, everyone on Crete knew who I was by this point.

  Icarus must’ve somehow guessed my ultimate intention to leave the island. Perhaps I’d let something slip during our conversations. Regardless, I knew the helmet would have its uses in the future. In the meantime, my life was unaltered by the new addition to my wardrobe.

  My relationship with Phaedra blossomed. I spent more time with her than any other, including Icarus. She was clever and kind and had a sense of humor I enjoyed, although could rarely compete with. She also possessed a beauty that made my heart ache. I had no idea what she saw in me.

  I was large and clumsy. I was not poetic or gifted with the same ease around women Androgeus had. I was not even handsome. That’s not to say I was ugly, but my features were rough clay compared to the sculptured brilliance of my brother’s dazzling looks. I sometimes wondered how we were brothers. My mother was a beauty, and Minos, despite his meanness of spirit, did not lack in that department either. I could understand why their children turned out so well formed. Even Glaucus, fat and slovenly, was better looking than I. It did occur to me that it was part of Poseidon’s revenge against Minos. Why else would I look the way I did when by rights, I should have inherited some of my mother’s features?

  And of course, there was the matter of my horns. The horns that marked me as someone abnormal and peculiar. A freak of nature. A monster.

  I guess that was part of the reason I didn’t particularly enjoy walking to the coast with Phaedra. On the few times I had gone there with her, I had found it a little overwhelming. The bustling port was filled with people, Cretans and Greeks from the mainland and more exotic types from places like Egypt, Syria and places I’d never even heard about. Phaedra loved to go, to sample strange foods, perfumes, and spices, to caress new types of fabrics.

  The only thing I liked about our trips were the weapons. Minos imported a great deal of bronze and tin. Most of it was used for weapon production to equip his growing army. With his great wealth, he was also able to buy already forged weapons and armor. It was these that attracted my attention. Massive bronze shields and glinting spears, greaves and breastplate armor, clubs, knives and tridents. A huge array of equipment with only one purpose—to intimidate and subdue other rival states.

  I would often pause to look or touch these instruments of death, fascinated by them in spite of my gentle nature. As I did this, I could not help but attract attention. Both Cretans and foreigners alike would stare at me and point. Some would laugh. The only reason I wasn’t taunted further or physically abused was because of my status. My clothing marked me as a member of the royal family and most people were probably intimidated by my size. Not only that, but I was also in the presence of Phaedra. She was a favorite of King Minos and many were too scared to risk offending her. With one obvious exception, Minos took a dim view to any who offended his children. On some occasions, he actually put a few unfortunates to death for apparently insulting Ariadne. I doubt whether they’d actually insulted her—it was just Ariadne playing her games with the lives of those she considered irrelevant.

  The end result of all this was that I preferred to walk with Phaedra in the countryside, outside the vastness of the palace grounds. We stayed off the major roads, and there we could be largely alone, only rarely meeting the occasional farmer.

  Besides, I had another motive for getting Phaedra alone. Despite what I knew about my parentage, I was still considered a son of Minos by the general population of Crete. Therefore, Phaedra was my half-sister, and any physical relationship was deemed inappropriate. In order to pursue our love, we had to conduct our affairs in private. We were very careful not to demonstrate overt affection in the company of others. We knew our other siblings probably suspected, but without proof, they could do nothing about it. I’m talking, of course, about Ariadne and Glaucus. In hindsight, we should have probably been more careful, but I believe that at the time, we were being as cautious as youth allowed.

  When I say love, we were young, and it was largely innocent—kissing, caressing, and the like. Still heady stuff for a young man, so of course I tried to lure Phaedra away from the palace at any opportunity.

  Sometimes, we would lie sheltered from the sun amongst the cypress and oak trees, talking, kissing, and doing what other young couples in love did. They were probably the best times of my life.

  On one such occasion, Phaedra and I had taken some food and a little wine I’d stolen from the kitchen and wrapped up in cloth. We set it down in a clearing amongst the trees and ate and drank our fill. I confess I’d probably drunk more wine than was good for me and was feeling more than a little bold.

  We kissed. Reluctantly, I broke the embrace to ask a question that had been plaguing me.

  “Why do you love me?” I asked.

  Phaedra looked at me askance, her head tilting slightly to show the perfection of her jawline. I desperately wanted to kiss her again.

  “Do you really need to ask such questions?” she replied, her face serious.

  “Of course I do. Look at me. Look at you. Don’t you think we are an odd match?”

  “Asterion, you of all people should know I don’t judge based on appearances. To me, you are the most handsome man in the world because of who you are. You are gentle and have a kind soul. That’s more important to me than looks. Besides,” she said, with a twinkle in her eye, “you have big muscles. Every girl likes big muscles.”

  “Is that all I am to you? A slab of meat?” I tried to joke, but my tone was all wrong. I knew I half meant what I said. I was only too conscious of my massive size and, like my horns, knew it marked me as an oddity or a strange freak of nature.

  Phaedra
slapped me playfully. “Most of the time. Sometimes you’re able to string a sentence together that is almost intelligent.”

  We both laughed, breaking the tension. Laughter led to more kissing. Through trial, experimentation, and experience, Phaedra and I had worked out how to kiss properly without me goring her to death with my horns. I won’t go into the details here but suffice it to say it took some adroit twisting and dexterity I didn’t know I possessed. I put my experience to good use and soon we were locked in an embrace that even a blind person would interpret as anything but brotherly.

  Unfortunately, that was exactly the same time we heard the thud of horses’ hooves. If we hadn’t been so thoroughly intent and otherwise occupied in our pursuit of pleasure, I probably would’ve heard them earlier. As it was, the riders had ample opportunity to witness our love.

  If it had been a farmer or woodcutter passing through, we might have gotten away with it. Minos did not like hearing bad news, often punishing the messenger in addition to those who crossed him. Because of this, news of Phaedra and I never found his ears through common people. Although we had always taken pains to be careful, we had been discovered once or twice before, but nothing, as far as I knew, had been said. But these weren’t common people. They were soldiers. Minos’s soldiers with loyalty bought by gold.

  I looked up at the sound and discovered with some alarm that four riders had entered the clearing and were watching us with interest. I should’ve immediately known who and what they were. Only soldiers and the ruling class generally rode horses, common people were forced to walk or make use of donkeys. If that wasn’t enough of a clue, their emblazoned kilts and weapons clearly marked them for what they were.

  They whispered amongst themselves. A couple of them laughed, nasty sounding chuckles.

  Phaedra sat up angrily. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.