Lost in the Labyrinth

by Patrice Kindl

  "As you were so certain of your own ability to produce a living, breathing Glaucus, you shall share the princes burial chamber until you have managed to do so." He turned away.

  "But Sire, I pray you," cried Polyidus. "Give me some water, some light to see by. Of your pity, I beg it!"

  "Give him what he asks," said my father shortly. "Then seal the room and let no one give him aid until my son's life has been restored." He strode away, pushing through the crowd, which fell back hastily before his advance.

  My father, I thought, was unjust. It was not Polyidus's fault he was a fool. He had only imagined himself the hero, rescuing the prince and being heaped with treasure by my grateful parents. It would not have occurred to him that events might fall out differently.

  I murmured as much to Icarus as we filed out of the hallway and made our way back to more stately apartments of the palace.

  Icarus shook his head. "If a fool values his life he should stay quietly at home and not go offering advice to the great and mighty."

  "If he were wise enough to do that, then he would not be a fool," I pointed out. I sighed. "I suppose Bas, my brother's slave, is dead by now. I am sorry, though he probably did deserve to die. How glad I am that Ariadne is to be queen and not I. I could never order anyone executed." I shuddered.

  Icarus smiled. "The Lady Ariadne will have no difficulty there," he said.

  "No, she will not, and a good thing too, if she is to be a strong ruler," I said tartly. Ariadne was my sister. Long ago we had played at dolls and dressup, and even though she no longer seemed to value my company, I loved her as best I could. I would not allow anyone to criticize her, not even Icarus.

  Besides, I felt a sudden urge to quarrel with him, thinking to blot out my distress with a scalding good fight. But he would not help me. He merely said, "Yes, your sister has the stomach to be queen. You do not." Then, pausing at the entrance to the royal chambers, he said, "How do you suppose the prince came to fall into the honey?"

  "There was a little mouse in the pithos with Glaucus," I said. "He perhaps was chasing it, to make a pet of it. He was fond of keeping small creatures in cages in his room. No doubt he climbed from a smaller pithos nearby to the large one. Then later, after he had fallen in, someone found the trapdoor open and closed it."

  Icarus nodded. He lifted his fist to his forehead in salute and left me there, alone.

  ***

  When I awoke the next morning I hurried to the passageway under which Polyidus and my brother were imprisoned. It was in my mind to raise the trapdoor and secretly conduct the diviner out of the Labyrinth even though my father had expressly forbidden it. Perhaps it would be believed that Polyidus possessed magical powers beyond those he had ever demonstrated and had vanished through his own skill.

  Mine was a foolish plan. I could no more spirit Polyidus away unseen than I could restore Glaucus to life. Others had gathered at the place where the young prince had met his death. A large and appreciative crowd sat listening to Polyidus bewailing his fate through cracks in the wooden trapdoor. Polyidus had not been popular.

  Evidently he realized that we were present and listening, for he addressed us.

  "Hear me, all of you! King Minos shall be accursed! When my lady Queen Pasiphae discovers what he has done to me, her favorite, the heavens will fall down about his shoulders. And you, you who listen to my lamentations with such glee, you shall suffer also. I tell you, I am a seer and I foresee it!"

  The crowd did not appear to be much alarmed by this. His failure to foresee the prince's death had robbed him of credibility. Seemingly aware of this, he ceased his threats and lamentations. The people gathered around the storage room waited, hopefully.

  At length he demanded, "What enters this chamber?"

  Those above stirred happily at this new development. What indeed could it be?

  "A rat," suggested one onlooker. Those around him nodded in agreement. It must be a rat, for what else could have made its way into a sealed apartment?

  "No doubt you are in the right," returned Polyidus. "It creeps among the shadows so that I cannot see it clearly, but it is some manner of vermin come to despoil the body, I fear. Take that, thou low and slinking thing! And that, and that!"

  There came several crashing thuds from below the trapdoor, as though he were throwing stones at the wall.

  A silence followed. Polyidus could be heard muttering something.

  "I have killed it," he said aloud in a tone of despair. "My doom is sealed now. May the Goddess forgive me."

  The crowd was perplexed. How should the Goddess be displeased by the death of a rat?

  When they could bear it no longer, an old man leaned forward and spoke through a crack.

  "What is it? What have you killed?"

  "A snake," said Polyidus dully.

  "He has killed one of the sacred serpents!" someone whispered. After a shocked silence, a few elderly women dressed in black began to wring their hands and wail with great fervor.

  "I thought it was a rat!" Polyidus pleaded. "Why, it was you out there who said so!"

  "Sacrilege!" hissed the man who had made the suggestion. The old women began to wail louder but were hushed. Nothing so entertaining had happened for months, and the crowd wanted to hear every word.

  "See where another comes," said Polyidus.

  "Do not harm it," commanded the old man in a quavering voice, "or your fate does not bear thinking on."

  "I do it only honor," said Polyidus. "It leaves unharmed."

  "Hello, Xenodice—come to see the fun?" inquired a voice at my ear. It was my brother Catreus, with his twin, Deucalion, beside him. "Or hear it, rather?"

  "No," I said shortly.

  "Oh, well, he doesn't mean fun, exactly," said Deucalion easily. "Though I do think that Polyidus was a fool to have promised to restore the boy to life when he couldn't do it."

  "He didn't," I protested. "He only said that he was sure Glaucus would be alive and well when he found him."

  That's not what we heard," said Catreus. "We heard he boasted of his ability to draw dead souls back out of the Underworld and reunite them with their bodies. If you can't do a thing like that, it's not clever to brag that you can to a pair of bereaved monarchs."

  "It was only that our father has never cared for Polyidus, so he put the blame on him," I said.

  "Well, we won't grieve for him, I can tell you that," said Deucalion. "Last year he predicted we would suffer a toss in the bull games, and so we did. We can't help but feel that if he'd only kept his mouth shut we would have gotten off without a scratch. And now he's gone and killed one of the sacred serpents, I hear."

  At that moment Polyidus began shouting again, and the twins shushed each other to listen.

  "What happens here—?"

  A long silence followed and we all stood awaiting developments.

  "By the Sun, the Moon, and the Stars," came a terrified chant from below the floor. "By the name of She Who Gives All and Takes All! By the—" The string of invocations broke off.

  Another silence, shorter this time. Then: "What a crawling worm may do, a man may surely do also," he said. Mystified, those assembled consulted one another in puzzled whispers.

  An interval followed, and then Polyidus said loudly, "Awake, young master, awake!" A murmur of satisfaction at this dramatic touch spread through the crowd.

  But then from under the ground came a cry. "Mama! I want my mama!" The voice did not belong to Polyidus.

  Those closest to the trapdoor now drew back, crushing their neighbors in their anxiety to put distance between themselves and the voice.

  "Glaucus?" I whispered. I shuddered, and kissed the amulet that hung from a cord around my neck, for I feared it was his spirit only that spoke. "Glaucus!" I cried aloud in a voice I could scarce command. "Glaucus, is that you?"

  "Yes," said Polyidus. "Speak up, my lord. Let them hear your voice."

  "Xenodice? Let me out of here," my little brother cried. "It smells in here.
And the seer keeps poking at me. Tell him to stop. Why am I so sticky?"

  I pushed forward through the crowd eagerly. Just as I reached the trapdoor and bent to raise it, however, several in the crowd objected. They dutifully tapped at their foreheads with the backs of their knuckles as I passed, but they were frightened and they did not mean to let me touch the iron ring.

  "My lady," said one, whom I recognized as a journeyman potter. "It is for the queen to do this thing, or perhaps for the king, as he is the one who shut them up in there. Do not let the young lord's spirit out upon us or it will do us harm."

  "Oh, very well," I snapped. "Run and fetch my mother and father. Quickly!"

  Catreus stepped forward also. "The rest of you, back away. We must have room here. The queen comes!"

  I knelt down on the floor and spoke through the trapdoor.

  "Do not be afraid, Glaucus. Our mother is coming to let you out. You must be patient only a little longer."

  "Xenodice, now the seer has pinched me."

  I could hear Polyidus muttering, "He's alive! Alive! I never would have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes."

  "Polyidus!" I called.

  "Princess Xenodice! Do you know what I have done, my lady? I have brought the young prince back to life! I have raised the dead!"

  "Yes, and we are more grateful than we can say. But please do not pinch the Lord Glaucus. He is but a little boy recovering from a very upsetting experience."

  "I am the greatest seer in all of Kefti," Polyidus said with conviction. "In the world!"

  "I am very sure you are right, Polyidus," I said, my heart sinking a little as I contemplated the likely effect of this on Polyidus's self-love. Still, he had raised my brother from the dead and I must think only of that.

  My mother came striding along the corridor with my father at her heels, the excited potter trotting in their wake, gibbering of spirits and serpents and seers.

  "Be silent," my mother commanded. "Show me."

  The crowd had withdrawn to a respectful distance, whether in obedience to the command or through their own fear I do not know. They flattened themselves against the walls as my parents passed; the close confines of the little kitchen and hallway did not allow them to do more than briefly sketch a gesture of respect.

  The potter pointed mutely at the trapdoor.

  I bent down to the wooden door, said, "Here is Mother, Glaucus," and moved away.

  My mother fixed her eyes upon mine.

  "Is it he?" she asked. She looked, if anything, worse than she had last night. She had allowed her women to change her honey-stained clothes, wash her face, and comb her hair, but her aspect was dreadful.

  I had opened my mouth to answer when the cry came: "Mama! Mama! Xenodice won't let me out and I hate it down here."

  "My son!"

  My father stepped forward. "Polyidus," he called out in a threatening voice, "if this be trickery—"

  "Oh, but it isn't, I assure you, King. Truly. The little boy's as lively as a cricket. I did it. I brought him back to life."

  "Open the door, Minos!" cried my mother. "Open the door!"

  My father stooped and hefted the heavy door. In the shifting light of a sputtering oil lamp were revealed the uplifted faces of the seer Polyidus and my little brother Glaucus. Glaucus's expression was utterly unlike the one I had seen on his face last night. Then he had looked serene, even beautiful, in his golden glaze of honey. Now he looked like an appallingly dirty, thoroughly disgruntled small boy. In the few brief moments of his new life he had managed to smear dirt all over his hands and face, which had of course adhered to the honey. His hair stuck up in spikes, his brows were knit, his arms were folded across his chest, and his lower lip stuck out belligerently.

  "I itch all over, Mama," he said irritably, and demonstrated by scratching himself vigorously.

  He was unquestionably, undeniably alive.

  A wooden ladder was lowered and Glaucus swiftly restored to his mother's arms, once more spoiling her dress. The years dropped from her like castofF rags. She laughed tremulously and covered his filthy hair with kisses, clasping him to her bosom so tightly that he cried out in protest.

  I could not help but wonder, Would my return from death give my mother such joy?

  Polyidus emerged from the underground in a stately, deliberate manner. He paused at the edge of the trapdoor, smiling benignly at the rejoicing crowd.

  "I am but a humble servant of the Goddess, no more," he said, when a momentary lull in the noise level allowed him to be heard. "Do not praise me more than my merit, I pray you."

  Polyidus was going to be insufferable, I could see.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  BULL RIDER

  "WHEN YOU COME TO CONSIDER IT," I SAID, THOUGHTFULLY chewing on the stem of a flowering orchid, "Polyidus did little to deserve his present good fortune. It was the bee that found Glaucus and the snake that fetched the herb that brought him back to life. Polyidus lies when he says he brought Glaucus back to life."

  "The serpent brought the herb, yes," said Icarus. "But it did so to revive the other snake killed by Polyidus's stone. It was Polyidus who, seeing the effect of the herb, placed it upon your brother's face. Had Polyidus not been present, your brother would now lie dead in his tomb."

  "But he killed the sacred snake! For that act he ought to have been struck dead on the spot, but instead he is covered with honors. It makes no sense."

  We three, Icarus, Asterius, and I, were seated near the edge of a precipitous cliff looking out over the sea. Or rather, Icarus and I were sitting. Asterius was behind us, galloping around and around in a circle, mad with delight at the sun and the grass and the sweet scented breeze. Now and then he snorted and kicked his hind hooves up into the air in an ecstasy of enjoyment. At intervals he flung himself down onto a mass of vegetation and rolled in it, rising up perfumed with thyme and sage and rosemary. The sea lay spread out before us, like the Lady Potnia's blue robe sewn with glittering jewels. A kestrel, making use of the current of air rushing up the side of the cliff, soared effortlessly skyward to float high above our heads. Bees buzzed sleepily and goldfinches flashed brilliantly in the brush.

  Behind us were Asterius's Athenian servants. The Festival of the Bull being so close at hand, they were playing at being bull riders and bull dancers, using a large boulder to represent the bull. As I watched, one of the girls, portraying the bull leaper, somersaulted over the rock. She was caught quite neatly by the catcher, but I turned away, wincing. I had no desire to see her fail—I wanted nothing to spoil the day.

  Simply to have Icarus close at hand pleased me sufficiently, but today I had his attention as well. Today he did not fly off into strange lands in his mind as he so often did but sat and gossiped like an ordinary person. It was a perfect day, a day beyond praise. My brother lived again and Icarus sat beside me, laughing and talking.

  Now he said, "The flower deserves better treatment, Lady," and took the orchid away from me and tucked it behind my ear. "Don't forget," he went on, "the snake lived to sleep in the sun for another day. It was the fate of Polyidus to save the prince and so he did, with the aid of the bee and the snake."

  "But should not great deeds be performed by the great? Should not one deserve one's fate?" I asked.

  "No." Icarus shook his head. "Most do not deserve their destiny. Look at the palace slaves. What crime did they commit that they should live in bondage? Look at the Athenians. How is it their fault that their king broke the sacred rules of hospitality and sent your brother out to fight the wild bull?"

  "But ... but," I said, wrestling with this problem, "the monarch and the nation are one and the same being, so her crimes are the crimes of the people. She is the mind and heart of the nation; her people are the limbs. One may lose a finger or a toe or even an arm or a leg and yet live, Icarus, but no one survives the loss of one's head."

  Icarus smiled and said nothing. I felt a prick of annoyance. How dare he? I had studied statecraft and he had not.
"Aegeus of Athens has suffered for his crime," I went on. "He has no legitimate heir, I am told, and so the throne will go to another house upon his death. There could be no harsher fate for one of royal blood. You would not understand."

  "No, I wouldn't," he agreed. "My pity is reserved for his unfortunate subjects. They are torn from their parents at a tender age and shipped across the sea to a strange country to be fed to an unnatural monster. That's what they believe, you know—that they are to be sacrificed to your brother." He smiled at Asterius, who was at that moment holding a large, angry beetle in his cupped hands and sniffing warily at it.

  I smiled also, at the idea of Asterius making a meal of one of his attendants. He ate only fruits and grains; he had never tasted flesh.

  Asterius looked very well in this open place with the morning sun on his back; he was still strange, but that strangeness had been transformed into beauty. I wished that others—my father, for instance—could see him as he was at that moment. His interest in the beetle had given his face a nearly human expression, and his carriage was graceful, the sinewy chest and arms carried proudly above his four-legged bull's body.

  "You do not approve of slavery, then?" I said, returning to the argument. "But Athenians also own slaves, do they not?"

  "As many as they can get," admitted Icarus.

  "I am sure that their slaves are not treated half so well as ours. And the Athenians who attend Asterius will likely find themselves in positions of much greater power and comfort than they would ever enjoy at home."

  "Perhaps, but it will not be their home. Oh, Princess," he said, with unusual seriousness, "I know you are right. It is only that I dislike seeing my own people in bondage."

  "But they are not your people, Icarus, not really. Your mother came from Athens and your father's father also, but you were born and raised here on Kefti. You are one of the Keftiu," I said jealously, disliking the idea of Icarus belonging to anyone else.

  An outraged snort made us swing our heads around to see what was amiss with Asterius.