Lost in the Labyrinth

by Patrice Kindl

  "Mother," I said, catching at her elbow as she stepped out of her gown. "Mother, tell me, when does the Athenian prince die?"

  Mother looked annoyed. "Do not try to save him, Xenodice; you are too tenderhearted. Theseus is his father's child indeed! He comes to my court and announces that he means to kill yet another of my sons! But do not grieve over him. His death will cancel out Aegeus's debt. It is just—a son for a son."

  I raised the knuckles of my fist to my forehead in salute. "Your benevolence is great, O Queen," I said formally. "But I did not seek to save the man Theseus. I only wished to know when he would die."

  She looked up sharply and motioned her women away.

  "You wished to know—! Is this my sweet-natured little daughter, she who cannot bear to crush an insect? Why do you wish to know when the young man dies?"

  My head drooped; I stared at my feet. Never before had I desired another's death. But now I was frightened. I did not know the precise nature of the danger, but my forebodings centered around this young Athenian.

  "He threatened to kill Asterius," I said, sounding no older than Father's boy. "I am afraid for my brother."

  "Oh, if that is all! Do not fear, he cannot escape. And if he could, how could he find your brother, and, having found him, how could he kill him unarmed?"

  "Someone—someone could help him," I suggested.

  "No one would dare. Better still, no one would wish to do such a thing. Now, stop worrying this instant. Do you know, I was rather afraid at first that you had fallen in love with the man. You're growing up so." She looked at my small pointed breasts. When I blushed, she laughed. "I'm glad to know that's not so."

  "Oh no, Mother. He's such an ugly man."

  "Well," she said, musing, "I wouldn't call him so. Some women find men like that quite attractive. But evidently you don't and that's all to the good. Now go and leave me to my bath."

  "But Mother," I protested, "you didn't say when—"

  "No, I didn't and what's more, I won't," she said good-humoredly. "Don't worry, little one. Asterius is quite safe from the son of Aegeus."

  And with that I had to be content.

  Theseus was not executed the next day. or the next. The court in those days after the festival seemed stretched tight, waiting. After having eaten and drunk and danced and sung our fill we ought to have returned to our everyday lives. What, then, were we waiting for?

  This tension seemed to center around the queen my mother. She laughed often these days, which was uncommon for her. She teased her little slave girl and gave her presents of sweetmeats and a small gold chain for her ankle. And every morning and every evening she climbed up to the lookout tower, the highest place in the Labyrinth, and stared out over the sea.

  Two days after the Festival of the Bulls, our mother summoned Ariadne to her presence in closed conference. When Ariadne came out of the throne room, she was seething and smoking like a pot of oil left overlong on the fire. After that I avoided her whenever I could.

  The very next day. however, she demanded that I accompany her to Daedalus's studio.

  "He likes you," she said in explanation. "He'll tell you things."

  "What sort of things?" I asked, suspicious.

  "Come on, Xenodice," she said, pulling me ruthlessly along.

  Icarus was seated on a windowsill of the untidy room, gilding the horns of a rhyton carved in the shape of a bull's head.

  "Oh, it's only you," said Ariadne, disgruntled.

  "Yes, my lady, it is only I," he agreed, standing to salute us and holding the rhyton away from his body so as not to smudge the paint.

  "That's rather nice," she said, looking at the rhyton, which would one day hold the blood of a sacrificial bull.

  "It's very beautiful," I amended, because it was.

  "Thank you," he said tranquilly and waited to hear what we wanted. I could tell that he was having one of his dreamy, otherworldly days. Ariadne could tell, too. She looked as though she wanted to shake him.

  "Where is your father?"

  "I cannot say, Lady. Not here. He left some time ago without telling me his errand."

  Ariadne looked exasperated. "Still," she muttered to herself, "perhaps he knows." She whispered urgently in my ear, "Ask him!"

  "Ask him what?" I whispered back, bewildered.

  "Where Theseus is imprisoned, of course!"

  "But—but why—?"

  "Never mind why—just ask him!"

  "Aii! Ariadne, that hurt! Why don't you ask him?"

  "Because—just ask!"

  "I don't want to, Ariadne. I don't want to know, and I don't see why you should, either."

  Icarus put the rhyton down on the window ledge and waited.

  Ariadne released me. She pulled herself up to her full height and said, "Icarus, I command you to tell me where the man Theseus is imprisoned."

  "I do not know, my lady."

  Ariadne hissed in frustration.

  "But," Icarus continued, "my father knows."

  "Does he? How do you know?" she asked eagerly.

  "Because I heard your royal mother Queen Pasiphae tell him to make sure the prisoner was incarcerated in the deepest, most secure chamber at the very heart of the maze. Which chamber that would be I cannot say, but my father could."

  "He could, but would he, that's the question," mused Ariadne aloud.

  Icarus's attention was drifting back toward the rhyton. Apparently forgetting our presence, he held it up to the sunlight, admiring the line of fire reflecting down the golden horns.

  "You could work it out yourself I suppose," Icarus said absently, picking up his paintbrush.

  "What do you mean? How?" Ariadne demanded, staying his arm before he could dip the brush into the golden medium.

  He laid the brush down again.

  "The oldest section would be the deepest, wouldn't it, my lady?" he said. "They built the present palace on top of the ruins of the first. And then, our queen said that the chamber should be at the very heart of the maze. The Bull Court is at the very heart of the maze." He turned back to the rhyton.

  "Wait! Put that stupid thing down for a moment. So what if the Bull Court is at the heart of the maze? You can't keep a prisoner in the Bull Court!"

  "You could keep a prisoner in a room under the Bull Court, though," Icarus said.

  "But there are no—Icarus! Are there rooms under the Bull Court?"

  "I have heard my father say so, Lady."

  "Then that is where he is. But how shall I find my way there? And how shall I know which is the proper room?"

  "I cannot say. But you might watch the kitchens for the servant who—"

  "Icarus," I said uneasily, "do not—"

  "—who is bringing him his meals, for he must be eating," Icarus concluded.

  "Icarus, you are brilliant! Every bit as clever as your father!" Ariadne's face lit up with joy. There in Daedalus's workshop she began to dance, closing her eyes and moving her body with a fierce concentration.

  "Thank you, thank you for this boon, Great Goddess!" she cried. Still gyrating, she left us.

  "Icarus, how could you?" I said.

  "He is the son of my father's cousin," Icarus said, and he went on painting the bull.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THESEUS

  IT WAS NOW THREE WEEKS SINCE THE FESTIVAL, AND THESEUS had not yet been executed. My mother was waiting and watching for something, some signal, before she had him killed.

  I had taken to spending a great deal of time with Asterius. In this situation I could not depend upon his servants to defend him; they would naturally be on the side of their prince, Theseus. Indeed, they might themselves be a danger to Asterius.

  I did not take him out to the mountains again but brought my distaff and spindle down into the Bull Pen. I sat in the light well, in the shaft of sunshine that penetrated even into the subterranean Bull Pen, and there I spent my days twisting flax into thread. Whenever Graia wished to be free of the care of Phaedra and Molus I brought th
em there as well and saw to it that my father heard of my new habits.

  "How industrious you are, my daughter," he said, staring hard at me. "But you should be dancing as well as spinning. You are the daughter of a queen."

  "I do not dance so well as I spin," I said. "And I enjoy spending time with my brother Asterius."

  "Take very good care that my little Molus and Phaedra do not annoy their brother Asterius. He is a wild and violent creature, and I would not have my babes harmed. Indeed, perhaps it would be better—"

  "I will take care, my father," I said hastily. Luckily a messenger came for him bidding him to the queen's presence before he could prohibit me from bringing his children to the Bull Pen. I knew that their presence there was the best method I could contrive to ensure the safety of Asterius.

  And so I sat and so I spun. My clew of thread grew long and longer still. I called for flax and yet more flax. The injury to my wrist was luckily on the side holding the distaff and not on the side that spun the spindle; even as it was, both wrists ached from the task.

  All day I spun and into the night, stopping only when the flickering light of the oil lamp made the flax strands seem to twist and wind by themselves without the aid of my spindle.

  Ariadne discovered me in the Bull Pen, spinning as usual.

  "Xenodice, come away," she said. "I need you to do something for me, and you must do it. You must!"

  "But I don't want to leave. What is it?" I asked.

  "Xenodice, you have grown very stubborn lately," Ariadne said. "You do not show me the respect due to an elder sister and one who will someday be a queen."

  "I am sorry, Ariadne."

  "What are you going to do with all that thread, anyway?" she demanded, staring at the large and ever-growing ball.

  "One can always use more thread," I said. "Perhaps I will have it woven into a new dress."

  "Well, put it down now. I do not wish to speak before all these people." She waved her hand at the Athenian servants. "Or before the brats." She scowled ferociously at Molus, who began at once to whimper.

  "Very well," I said reluctantly. "But you will have to wait until I find Graia and deliver them into her care."

  "Oh, don't fuss so," she said. She swept us all three out of the Bull Pen, giving me no time for more than a backward glance at Asterius, who watched our departure curiously. "Here, you!" She flagged down a passing soldier. "Take the Princess Phaedra and Prince Molus to their nursemaid."

  The soldier and the two children regarded each other in dismay.

  "Yes, my lady," said the soldier, presenting his weapon and saluting her. Molus burst into tears.

  "Ariadne, I really think—"

  "Come with me now, Xenodice!" Ariadne said through gritted teeth. "I mean it. You are the only one in the world who can help me."

  She dragged me up the staircase to the third floor and into a deserted state bedroom. Drawing me as far from the doorway as possible, she clasped me about the wrists with cold hands. I winced with pain and attempted to withdraw my injured hand.

  "My wrist—it pains me," I said.

  She shifted her grasp to my elbows and fixed me with a long stare.

  "You must help me. I will die if you do not." She shook me in her vehemence.

  "Help you to do what?" I asked uneasily.

  "Set Theseus free, of course. Don't be an absolute idiot, Xenodice!"

  "I'll not do any such thing!" I said.

  "What do you mean?" she said, taken aback. "Of course you will. I'm telling you, you must!"

  "How could you ask me to do such a thing? And why should you want it?"

  "Because I love him," she said.

  "Because you—! No, I don't believe it!"

  "And why not?" she demanded.

  "Oh, Ariadne," I cried before I could stop myself, "he is so ugly!"

  "He is not!" She released my arm and snatched up a lock of my hair. "Do not say so! He is not ugly."

  "He is!" I shrieked recklessly. "And most likely he smells, too! Aii! Aii! Let go!"

  To my surprise, she did. "Stupid girl!" she said. "Just because he doesn't look like your precious Icarus! Icarus looks like a girl."

  Outraged, I opened my mouth to protest, but she rushed on.

  "But that doesn't matter. What matters is that I bear Theseus's child."

  "What! What do you mean? You couldn't possibly—"

  "I do! I know I do! I can feel it, here." She sank down onto the bed and caressed the region of her stomach.

  "But—" I might not have known everything there was to know on this subject, but I was quite certain that a baby didn't simply appear in a woman's womb because she wished it. "You've barely even spoken to the man!"

  She looked away. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

  "Oh, I have done more than that," she said.

  "Ariadne! You haven't! You found him then?"

  "Yes. Icarus was right. Theseus was under the Bull Court. I followed the servant to his very cell. It was so dark and drear, Xenodice! I was frightened. I could feel the ancient dead pressing up against me, whispering in my ear." She shuddered. "But then I found him. How glad he was to see me!"

  "Well, yes, he would be," I said. Fighting a sense of dread at the pit of my stomach, I asked, "Is he then at liberty?"

  "No," she said. "I told you he wasn't!"

  "Then how—?"

  "Oh, I got into his cell easily enough. It wasn't even guarded. But one of his arms is manacled to the wall and I have no means to free him. Daedalus holds the only key. Xenodice, you must help me! Our mother will kill him as soon as Acalle returns, and that is at any moment!"

  "Acalle! Returning? What do you mean?"

  "What I said, of course."

  "She is not dead then? Or—I thought perhaps she was under an enchantment. Was that why she did not come home for so long?"

  "Oh, you are so stupid, Xenodice! Of course she wasn't! She was only pregnant by the King of Libya. She went away to have the baby, and now that it is born, and thankfully not a girl, she is coming home again."

  "Pregnant! But—wait! Why should she not have a girl child? I would like to have a little niece."

  "I could shake you, Xenodice, really I could," she said, and did so. "Listen! If the baby was a girl, she might someday try to claim the throne, even though she was illegitimate and the product of an inferior alliance. As Acalle's firstborn she could cause problems for Acalle's first legitimate daughter. You see? So a girl baby would have to be exposed on the rocks to die as soon as it was born. But as it happens, it was a boy. Acalle has only been waiting until he was old enough to be handed over to a wet nurse to raise, and now she is returning."

  "Oh!" I said. "I see." I sat down on the bed beside her. "But why couldn't we be told?"

  "Because even the rumor of such a child could someday stir up trouble, that's why. Apparently absolutely everybody has known all along that Acalle wasn't dead or gone for good, that she was just off studying with some famous holy woman in the Eastern Isles. No one spoke of it because it was supposed to be some big, secret, religious experience. What only Mother knew was that Acalle was pregnant when she left. But no one"—Ariadne's face was white and set—"no one thought to tell me anything about anything."

  "Oh, Ariadne," I said. "I am sorry."

  "Never mind. I was furious when Mother first told me, but now I'm glad, because I'm going to leave here with Theseus."

  "What?" I cried.

  "And why not?" she demanded. "Do you suppose I want to stay here with no husband and an illegitimate child and have Acalle made queen over my head?"

  "But perhaps you are not pregnant after all. You might be mistaken."

  "I am not mistaken! I tell you, I know it!"

  "All right! All right! Perhaps you are right. But you couldn't want to leave Kefti and go to Athens!"

  "I could! I do! At least I would be queen there."

  "If Theseus married you, you mean. But you would not be queen of Athens in the same way
that Acalle will be queen of Kefti. They do not honor women there as we do here on Kefti."

  "What do you mean, if Theseus married me? Of course he will marry me. He loves me. He says he cannot live without me!"

  "That much is certainly true," I said.

  "Xenodice, how cynical you've become! Let me tell you, it's very unbecoming in a young girl. If you must know, I cannot live without him. And anyway," she added, more prosaically, "he couldn't possibly hope for a better match than Princess Ariadne of the Isle of Kefti."

  "Ye-es," I agreed.

  Ariadne's nostrils flared and her eyes narrowed. "Why do you say yes' like that? Do you suggest that I, II am not worthy to wed the future king of Athens? How dare you, Xenodice!"

  "Oh, yes, of course." I hurried to appease her. "You would be a very great prize indeed if you wedded with our mother's consent, but as it is—"

  "Theseus considers me a great prize with or without our mother's consent," Ariadne said coldly.

  "Even if—even if your flight leads to warfare between Athens and Kefti?" I asked, trembling before her anger.

  "Yes! Yes! Even then."

  "Oh, my sister, I fear for you!" I said. Knowing it would have been better to remain silent but unable to help myself, I added, "And on top of everything else he is so very unattractive!"

  "He is not! Stop saying that, Xenodice!"

  "But I do not understand! Why would you wish to tie yourself to a slave, and one condemned by our mother to die? It makes no sense."

  She hesitated. I could see that she did not believe me capable of sympathizing but desperately needed to talk about her lover to someone.

  "He is a hero, Xenodice," she said very seriously. "He is the greatest hero of our time."

  "Yes," I agreed, "so he told us."

  "Oh. you are like everyone else! We are too civilized here on Kefti. Our island has been tamed for a thousand years. There is no wilderness here—the Queen's Menagerie holds the only dangerous beasts of prey. What need have we for heroes? Theseus comes from a primitive world, where heroes matter. He is rough and wild because the world he comes from is rough and wild. He wasn't boasting when he called himself a hero—he was just stating a fact."