Dion: His Life and Mine

by Anstey, Sarah Cate

  “It’s amazing what a stranger’s arrival can tell you about your own family.”

  “You mean Theo?”

  “Yes, since he’s arrived, I’ve learnt more about Phaedra.”

  “Maybe you never encouraged her.”

  “It’s hard getting speech out of a statue. How often does she visit you? I’ve never seen her.”

  “That’s because you’re still in bed - she usually comes first thing in the morning, after she’s been stargazing, so she can give me a report!”

  “What do you mean, usually?”

  “Well she’s only been once in the last five days.”

  “And what did she have to report?”

  “She told me about a new star in her sky! A tall, dark, handsome one!”

  “Oh.”

  “And what’s your report?”

  “He’s alright,” I shrugged.

  “He’s alright!” Aster mimicked my gesture and smiled. “Phaedra says he’s a bit more than alright. She said he’s the spit of father when he was younger.” It was Aster’s turn to blush. He always found it difficult to mention our parents. Andro and I had always tried to avoid talking about them. I was surprised Phaedra did. But then Theo’s arrival had thrown us all.

  What did I feel? Crushed, maybe? I certainly was later, when he abandoned me. But up to that point I hadn’t been able to say more than four words to him, “Good morning” and “Good night.” Even if Phaedra hadn’t commandeered him at every opportunity, there would still have been the problem of the lump in my throat and the butterflies, which had taken up residence in my stomach.

  “He’s a fine lad,” I heard Daedalus tell Aster when I visited the next day.

  “Except for the fact that he’s come here to kill Aster,” I said bitterly. I had summoned up the courage to ask Theo if he wanted to see some of the smaller beaches, but he had apologised and said he was otherwise engaged.

  “Your little sister has promised to show me the views of Ierapetra,” he said. The sound of Phaedra’s voice, calling his name, broke up any further conversation. My consolation was the emphasis on ‘little.’

  “He hasn’t come here to kill me. He’s come here to kill father’s ‘monster’,” Aster reminded me.

  “Exactly,” said Daedalus.

  “Except there isn’t a monster to kill!”

  “No, but your father’s played Theo’s visit for all it’s worth. Hasn’t he been the perfect host? Inviting him to dine with the Royal Family, allowing him the use of Andro’s training ground?”

  “I can’t believe he’s really going to go kill Theo.”

  “Well, there’s nothing we can do about it,” I said, pretending to be busy with boxes of statues. The talk of Theo was making me feel hot.

  “Isn’t there?” asked Daedalus.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Think about it. There’s Theo with his ship and crew waiting to set sail for Athens when Theo has killed the Minotaur. Here you are with money, the need to get off this island and the secret that could save Theo’s life.”

  “But we know nothing about him!” I said, as the butterflies whizzed around inside me.

  “Andro spoke highly of him, remember?”

  It seemed my dead brother still held sway and, as far as Aster was concerned, his word was law. It was settled, now I just had to settle those butterflies of mine.

  The next day, after Aster, Daedalus and I had formulated a plan, I managed to catch Theo alone without his shadow. While we had been talking about what to do, I had forgotten the deceitful butterflies in my stomach. Luckily, without realising it, Theo instigated the plan, by suggesting the walk we hadn’t been able to take the day before. So I took him on a ramble, him complimenting the island and comparing it with Athens; me responding with “really?”, “yes”, “no” and the imaginative “uh huh.” Until we came to a small beach at the foot of a cliff. With Theo still politely attempting to make conversation, I scrambled around until I found the large rock which Daedalus had marked for me and began pushing it.

  “What are you doing?” Theo asked.

  “Just help!” I said breathlessly. It took Theo two pushes to move it enough to reveal a small tunnel. I grabbed Theo’s hand and, bending down, pulled him in after me.

  “Hey, this is only our first date!” Theo said, sounding like he was enjoying himself. Then he started wheezing. I stopped so he could catch his breath. He took a small bottle from his tunic and took a sip, before secreting it.

  “I’m fine.” He answered my questioning gaze. “It’s just the air. It’s a bit stuffy. What are we doing down here anyway?”

  “There’s somebody I’d like you to meet” I told him. When we reached the end of the tunnel and were able to stand up straight, I fumbled around until I found the door that Daedalus promised would be there. I knocked, lightly, three times. There was the faint sound of a lock and the door swung open, revealing the craftsman who put his finger to his lips. Theo looked uncertain, but all he could do was follow, as he couldn’t find his own way back to the beach. Daedalus guided us through parts of the labyrinth even I didn’t recognise, until we reached the familiar surroundings of Aster’s rooms. It was then that I confirmed what Theo already suspected.

  “But I promised your father I wouldn’t come down here; it was part of the agreement.”

  “My father is a wicked liar who, in less than two weeks’ time, will rejoice in your death.” My outburst shocked Theo, not least because it was the longest sentence I had managed to say to him. I looked away, blushing.

  “What’s behind that door?” he asked, beginning to sound nervous.

  “There isn’t a what, there’s a who,” I told him tersely, as Daedalus knocked and we waited for the reply.

  Aster was sitting at his bench, working on a statue. He stood up and turned round as we entered.

  For the past sixteen years I had watched my brother grow, and his condition develop, until I didn’t notice it anymore. Now, standing next to Theo, I saw him for the first time, through a stranger’s eyes. Theo took in the oversized head, the distorted facial features. His eyes moved over the huge torso and the human sized hands, which looked tiny at the end of the large arms with their bulging biceps. I felt him shudder slightly and began to doubt the faith I had in Theo’s good nature and the hasty plan Daedalus, Aster and I had hatched. I took a deep breath and introduced them.

  “Theo, this is my brother Aster, Prince and rightful heir of Crete. Aster, this is the Prince and heir of Athens.” Aster bowed first, as custom dictated.

  “How do you do?” Theo said, taken aback but bowing in turn.

  “As you can see, Aster is not half-man and half-bull.”

  “But all human,” said Daedalus behind us.

  “Well, my own version of it.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, “he won’t bite” and I nudged Theo forward.

  “Well, not until I know you better!” Aster said, breaking the ice and offering Theo his hand. “Besides, I’ve just had my lunch,” he added cheekily. Theo shook it, beginning their short, but loyal, friendship.

  After recovering from the shock of Aster’s appearance, Theo listened in horror as we told him the truth behind my father’s years of lies. If he needed any proof, Aster’s existence was enough. Of course, Theo understood our need to get off the island. Theo wanted revenge on my father, - not just for making a fool out of Athens, but for the mistreatment Aster had suffered at his hands. He vowed that after our escape, he would expose the cruelty Aster had endured. The power our father held, behind his Minotaur myth, would be shattered.

  With each secret visit, Theo and Aster grew closer and closer, and the compliments, Theo paid Andro, sealed Aster‘s affection towards his new friend.

  “I watched your brother compete,” Theo told us on his second visit, after he had noticed the t-shirt Andro had given Aster.

  “What was he like?” Aster asked. Andro’s biggest fan had never had the chance to wave the Cretan flag and ch
eer him from the sidelines.

  “Magnificent,” Theo replied and Aster beamed. “When he ran it was like watching Hermes on speed! And his wrestling technique was a thing of beauty! He was so good, my father barred him from competing against me in the Pankration. He was worried that Andro was too good and couldn’t stop himself from beating me! The officials came up with some silly rule about only being able to compete in twelve events, so that I’d be able to win. I guess it would have looked really bad for me to lose the event I had invented! But I wouldn‘t have minded losing to a master like your brother!”

  “Andro said they needn’t have bothered. He spoke highly of you, said you were bound to win!”

  “Did he?” Theo said, pleased with the praise. “That was very sporting of him.”

  “He was very sporting. He rarely lost his temper, but he would have been angry if he knew that his death had been used as an excuse for even more innocent deaths.”

  “I’m sorry that the Pankration has been put to misuse. It’s what’s used to select your father’s unfortunate guests.”

  “It’s an amazing contest, Andro sent me the instructions, I practise every day,” Aster informed Theo proudly.

  “Really? I’ve added more since then, but show me what you can do!” After that, Theo and Aster practised the Pankration together every day. After one sweat-filled bout when Aster was winning three rounds to two, Theo said breathlessly,

  “You’re certainly your brother’s brother!”

  Aster replied with a smile I hadn’t seen since Andro lost his first game of Knuckle Bones to him.

  Theo was more like Andro than even father had thought, and maybe that was what drew me closer to him and what I mistook for love. But, either way, I was caught, hook, line and stinking sinker. Above stairs, in the palace, we both played our parts well, playing down our growing friendship. Down in the labyrinth we were able to talk freely in front of Aster. But on the way to and back from the cellar, we were on our own, and I found myself wanting to lengthen the journey.

  Then it was the fourteenth night, Theo’s last night on earth – if my father’s plan went well; the beginning of a new life - if ours did. And why shouldn’t it? We had planned it meticulously, but even the best of plans have their flaws, and ours backfired big time.

  Chapter Four Best Laid Plans

  On the fourteenth day, Theo and I made one last visit to Aster. He had already packed the few things he would be able to take. Without anything to occupy him, he looked agitated and relieved to see us.

  “Is everything okay?” he asked.

  “Absolutely! Don’t worry so much!” Theo placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. I was happy to see that Aster didn’t flinch.

  “Sorry, but being down here, you’ve got no idea … you know, what’s going on up there.”

  “Well, up there our unsuspecting father is busy arranging the annual sacrificial banquet, or, as he’s calling it this year, the ‘Good Luck to Theo Party’.

  “Aren’t I the lucky one?” grinned Theo.

  “What time will they put you in?”

  “Midnight.”

  “And what time will you be coming?” Aster turned to me.

  “About two. I don’t want to make anyone suspicious by going missing too early. After all, the party will still be going on until at least four when they let the real monsters loose.”

  “And they open the doors at six?”

  “Yes. You know, the same as they’ve done every year! We’ve been over this a million times.”

  “I know.” Aster sat down on the bed and put his head in his hands. He was shaking slightly. Theo and I sat either side of him.

  “Just think Aster, this time tomorrow we’ll be on my ship and sailing away from here.” Theo reminded him.

  “That’s just it,” Aster lifted his head up, “I can’t quite believe it’s happening! After all the planning and dreaming, we’re actually going to leave!”

  “What are you looking forward to most?” Theo asked him. Aster looked up at his ceiling and the spots Phaedra had painted.

  “The sky,” he told us. “I’m never going to take it for granted.”

  Theo and I exchanged smiles. A lot was riding on this plan. Perhaps we should have felt more nervous, but the adrenaline had already taken over and we were feeling elated, excited even. Back on the beach, Theo and I parted.

  “Until tonight,” Theo said after he had hugged me. It would be the last time we would be alone until we left Crete.

  As I had told Aster, my father had been kept busy organising the annual sacrificial banquet. He liked to believe that the whole thing was a suitable tribute to Andro and that he was being a dutiful and loving father, respecting his son’s memory. The banquets always began with speeches in Andro’s honour, by people who had barely spoken to him. Then, athletic competitions were held and an ‘honorary’ Andro would win all the events. This would be followed by poetry contests which Andro, when living, had always found as dull as ditchwater. After we had been forced to listen to the version of the loving son, my father wanted us to remember, we relived our own personal grief. Then we were allowed to eat.

  I hated the banquet. It succeeded in making me miss Andro more, although I knew the whole farce would have meant nothing to him. That night, having Theo there and knowing that my little brother was waiting for us, made the whole thing more bearable.

  After leaving Theo that morning, I had gone straight to my mother’s rooms to mix her an infusion of burdock, to give her strength for the ordeal that was the banquet.

  “Aren’t you having a cup?” she asked me, puzzled.

  “No, I’ve already had some pepper, it’s not good to mix the two,” I lied. The truth was I had had a double dose of both. Having no knowledge of herbs, my mother bowed to mine. I left her to drink the tea and put an extra pile of dried catmint on her dresser. When I had left, she wouldn’t have anyone to supply her with her favourite tea, and she was going to need it. I looked around her room one last time, before going to execute my part of the plan.

  As usual, the burdock did its job and my mother was her exquisite self at the banquet. Beside her sat Theo, dressed in the obligatory sacrificial white. It made me feel slightly sick to think of all the others who had worn it and who had died because of a lie. Then Theo caught my eye and smiled. At once I believed everything was going to be alright. Why? Because I wanted to, so badly.

  The dancing began and Theo and I kept to our pretence of mere acquaintance. He danced with my mother and I danced with Daedalus. It was a shock to see him there, not because he wasn’t invited, but because I hadn’t realised that there would be something or rather somebody, on Crete, I would actually miss.

  “Are you well, Princess?” he asked stoically, putting emphasis on the word well.

  “Yes, as well as can be expected.”

  “Good. Princesses must always take good care of themselves.” he said squeezing my hand slightly.

  “You could still …,” I said dropping the role-play. Daedalus silenced me with a shake of his head and answered with a glance towards Phaedra’s dancing partner. This year’s ‘Andro’ was Daedalus’s son, Icarus. We had tried to persuade him many times to come with us, worried that our father would eventually realise he must have helped us. But Daedalus always declined. He believed he could handle my father and had Icarus to consider. It wouldn’t be fair to drag him away from friends, or the island he loved, and force him to make a new life somewhere else.

  “I have spent my life running from place to place. I don’t want Icarus to be put through that. I always want him to feel secure.” This love for his son would eventually lead to his downfall, literally.

  I didn’t speak or dance with Theo except to say the customary “good luck” when we lined up to watch him enter the labyrinth. Our father had honoured Phaedra with the task of giving Theo a final glass of wine before he entered. He held it up as if toasting her before downing it under her watchful gaze.

  We thoug
ht, or rather assumed, everything had gone to plan.

  Theo had told his men to move his ship nearer to the secluded beach so we could make a quick getaway. I had completed my task; to unravel a thin ball of twine so that Theo could find his way from the sacrificial rooms to the safety of Aster’s, where we would be waiting for him. As my father’s soldiers reached the sacrificial rooms, we would be making our way down the now-familiar passageways, to the secluded beach. By the time the soldiers discovered Theo was missing, we would be sailing away to our new life.

  Easy!

  As I said, everything was perfect.

  But we had overlooked one tiny detail.

  Phaedra.

  It wasn’t that we purposely meant to exclude her. In fact, it was the subject of Phaedra that we discussed most. Should we tell her of our plan and ask her to come with us? Theo, who had spent more time with her than anyone, had grown fond of her; she was the little sister he never had, as he put it. He couldn’t believe that we hadn’t told her our plan and that we didn’t want her to know he had met Aster.

  “She won’t want to come,” Aster shocked us by saying. “She loves this island.”

  “But shouldn’t we at least give her the choice?” Theo asked him.

  “We could, but if she doesn’t want to come we run the risk of her letting something slip, or being accused of being an accomplice to our plan. Who knows what our father would do to her once she was left on her own?” This, coming from Aster, won Theo over. So in the end, it was decided that we would keep the plan to ourselves. Instead, we would send Phaedra the means to join us, once we were settled in our new home, if she wished.

  We all underestimated Phaedra, or rather her feelings for Theo. We should have guessed she’d have her own plan to save Theo.

  He had been careful to carry out the role of attentive guest, but the time he spent with me in the cellar meant he had less time to spend with Phaedra. Although Theo and I were careful not to be anything more than civil, when in the company of my family, Phaedra must have started to suspect something. She must have followed Theo after he’d given her yet another apology and yet another excuse about needing to train in private. She must have followed him when he came to meet me and watched us walk to the secluded beach. She must have discovered that his ship was missing from the port and guessed where it was moored. She must have surmised that Daedalus had told us of an alternative way out of the labyrinth and jumped to the conclusion that Theo and I were eloping.