Dion: His Life and Mine

by Anstey, Sarah Cate

  Maybe I am doing my sister an injustice. After all, Theo would never hear a word against her; Aster would never have believed it of her, and I’ve never had any proof. Still, as the grand entrance to the labyrinth was opened and Theo stepped in, our grand plan was about to unravel and all our fates sealed.

  The myth that has been thrown about and passed around is that Theseus killed the Minotaur. In fact, this couldn’t be further from the truth. Once in the cellar, Theo wasted no time following the twine I had left him, winding it as he went so no one could follow him. When it finally ran out, instead of finding himself in what had become the familiar surroundings of Aster’s rooms, he realised he was back where he had started. Someone had got there before him. He wasted precious hours retracing his steps and wasted precious more trying to find Aster’s rooms.

  Meanwhile, I had slipped in and joined Aster who was frantically waiting for Theo, wondering what was taking him so long. Leaving Aster to wait, I went out to look for Theo. When I eventually found him, he looked exhausted and disorientated. The labyrinth was beginning to play on his mind. Grabbing his hand, I pulled him through the twisted corridors towards my waiting brother.

  As we turned the last corner we saw them waiting for us: five of my father’s biggest and strongest soldiers.

  “What took you so long?” one of them sneered.

  “Your father wants a word with you, you’ve been a very naughty girl,” scoffed another.

  “Don’t forget, the King said we can practise all we like on him, the slower the better. But don’t touch the Princess.”

  “Come on, young sir,” the sarcastic one said, “let’s see if all that training has paid off.”

  They moved in on him one by one. The point was to tire him out. Theo fought valiantly, the Pankration moves, Aster and he had painfully perfected, paid off and he disposed of the first two neatly. Just as the third was getting ready for his turn, we heard a noise, which would have been terrifying had it not been so familiar to me. Whether it was out of bravery or sheer curiosity at finally meeting the real Minotaur, the soldiers stayed rooted to the spot and Theo took the opportunity to get the third out of the way before Aster emerged from his rooms. Aster took advantage of the soldiers’ shocked reaction, to his appearance, to take the upper hand. In no time, we were racing down the corridors towards our beach. We heard the sound of running feet and shouts behind us and realised that more men had been sent down to make sure the job was done. Aster shoved Theo towards our only exit and shouted one word,

  “Go.”

  But Theo shook his head. “No, we fight together and we go together.”

  This time, Aster shook his head. “There will be too many of them. I can hold them off and give you enough time to reach your ship; just promise to look after my sister,” Aster said, echoing the last words Andro had said to me. A promise I hadn’t kept, just as Theo wouldn’t keep this one.

  “We’ll wait on the ship,” said Theo, as Aster hugged him goodbye and whispered something in his ear. Then Aster embraced me. With tears running down my face I held my little brother. He attempted a smile:

  “For Andro and for you.” Then he pushed me in Theo’s direction. “Come and meet the MINOTAUR!” he roared at the soldiers. They were the last words I heard him utter.

  We made it to the ship and waited, as Theo had promised. I watched the rocks, which hid the escape route, in vain. Aster was strong, that much of the myth was true, but he wasn’t that strong. At last, we saw them spill out of the Labyrinth onto the beach, covered in my brother’s blood and rushing towards Theo’s ship. Theo ordered his men to bring up the anchor; we had waited long enough. Tears were streaming down both our faces. I took Theo’s hand.

  “Wwhat… did he wwhisper to you?” I managed to stammer.

  “He thanked me for killing the Minotaur. I’m not sure what he meant.” Before I could reply we heard shouting from the beach. The familiar figure of my father had arrived.

  “He killed the Minotaur, sire, and now he’s taken the princess,” we heard the soldiers shouting.

  “Surely they would get more glory if they said they had slain the mighty beast?” Theo said sarcastically, as the figures on the beach became smaller and smaller.

  “Are you kidding? Admit to killing my father’s beloved monster! He’d have them slaughtered!”

  “Well, he might have been considered a monster on his homeland, but in Athens I’ll make sure Aster is revered as a hero, just as I promised him.”

  I thought of Aster’s last words to Theo and shook my head. “It’s not what he wanted.”

  Theo looked puzzled.

  “Don’t you see? It would be a bigger revenge on our father if people thought a mere mortal had brought down his mighty monster and it would mean you succeeded in what you set out to do - restore glory to Athens.”

  “But Aster wasn’t a monster. He was the least monstrous person I’ve known.”

  “Yes, but as a monster, he had more power than he did as a man. Who would remember a deformed hermit when they could remember a terrifying monster?”

  “But it’s a lie!”

  “A lie which has served my father well; now let it serve you well. Let the monster be immortal and let’s keep the real Aster to ourselves.” Theo reluctantly agreed. I was my father’s daughter after all and knew the power of propaganda.

  Freedom. Only those who haven’t had it can understand the true beauty of the word. Those five days sailing to Naxos were among the happiest days of my life. I was free. I had been trapped on land, caged in by people, imprisoned by my father’s doctrines. On that ship with fifty sailors, surrounded by sea, I tasted liberty for the first time. Hope and happiness go hand in hand. The herb pouch Bris had given me, before she died, stayed close to my chest, filled with the herbs I had collected. Despite the infusions of camomile I had used to suppress my grief, it was almost full. I had no need of them. I almost believed I would never need them again. That’s how deluded infatuation makes you.

  In the beginning, my bond with Theo was strengthened by our grief and guilt over Aster’s death. We spent hours speculating and questioning. How had the twine been moved to send Theo on that fatal and wild goose chase? Who had told the soldiers to go to Aster’s rooms?

  “Daedalus knew about everything,” Theo said. “The twine was his, after all.” I, on the other hand, wouldn’t entertain the idea of Daedalus’s disloyalty.

  “Why would he bother to help us, only to betray us?” I countered.

  “Humm,” Theo said, not convinced. But I was and later so was Theo, when the world learnt of Daedalus’s fate.

  “Who else knows the labyrinth as well as you and Daedalus?” The answer to that was easy.

  “My sister.”

  “Phaedra!” Now it was Theo’s turn to be dismissive. I didn’t push it. Even I couldn’t believe Phaedra would have risked Aster’s life. Whatever it had been, her plan hadn’t worked. She was still on Crete, while I was on the ship, sailing to a new life with Theo.

  On Crete, Theo had talked of nothing but Athens. On the ship, his talk was of his childhood home of Troezen.

  “You’re not the only one whose mother has been made a scapegoat.”

  Theo’s mother suffered the same condition as I did - being a woman. Unlike me, who had brothers, Aethra had none.

  “My grandfather didn’t want to see her married in case his son-in-law usurped him. He still needed an heir, so my mother was forced to make visiting princes very comfortable.”

  “That’s terrible!” I interjected, “at least my father only expected me to wear a low-cut dress when I handed round the nuts.”

  “Then my father came along,” Theo continued. “Another prime candidate, but he made the mistake of falling in love with my mother and they decided to elope.”

  “So what went wrong?”

  “My grandfather guessed what they were planning. He sent word to my father that my uncle and cousin were attacking Athens. My father rushed off immediately. H
e spent the next six years making sure neither they, nor their armies, set foot in Athens, by which point I was born, my mother died and my father remarried.”

  “Families,” I said. Theo smiled sadly and nodded.

  The longer I spent with Theo, the fonder of him I became. He was good to his men, gave orders but did his share of the work. But I began to notice something wasn’t right. Theo would give a man an order and then a couple of minutes later give the same man the same order again. The men, devoted to their master, never made a comment and at first I thought I was going mad. Then, Theo started to do the same to me. He’d start telling me stories he had just finished or ask me questions I had just answered. Once, I walked into our cabin and Theo just stared at me, as if I were a complete stranger, before recognition swept over him and relief over me. That night, I cornered Xarius, Theo’s second-in-command, and asked him what was wrong with his captain.

  “Nothing,” Xarius tried to reassure me. I wasn’t very convinced. I had seen the glances that had been exchanged between Xarius and the other men, whenever I gave Theo some herbs from my pouch. At first, I put it down to old seafaring fears of females on board ship. I was even less convinced by Xarius’s assurance when Theo conveniently forgot me, a week later, on Naxos. It took the death of his beloved father to convince me that Theo really did have a bad memory and that leaving me wasn’t done out of malice. Still, I don’t know which is more insulting: being dumped or being forgotten.

  The night after I had introduced Theo to Aster, I came across Phaedra in the garden.

  “Oh, it’s you,” she said. “Have you seen Theo?” I had, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. Instead, I asked her why.

  “A message has come from his father.” She told me haughtily.

  “Well if I see him, I’ll tell him,” I said.

  “No need, just tell him I’m looking for him,” Phaedra said guardedly.

  Her air of superiority was pointless. Theo showed me the message the next day; as he needed my help. The message, written in a shaking hand, wished Theo well. It told him, in a state of despair, how much his father missed him and feared for his life, so much so that he was going to wait on the cliff over-looking the sea to watch for Theo’s return. If the news was good and Theo was alive, could he change the colours of his sails from normal sombre black to hope-filled white? His father couldn’t wait for the ship to dock and to learn of his son’s safety.

  “My white sails need mending,” Theo told me when I had finished reading the note.

  “No problem,” I said and took them to the best seamstress in town and paid extra for her discretion. When they were finished, I gave them to Aster who packed them with his things. In our hurry to escape my father’s soldiers and the despair that our plan had been interrupted, we forgot to take them. When I remembered, the day after, Theo told me not to worry as we could get sails on Naxos. When I began to realise that Theo had been cursed with a terrible memory, I took it upon myself to be in charge of the sails. As soon as we dropped anchor at Naxos, I set off. One bag of gold dropped the waiting time from twenty-eight days to fourteen; and when the vendor realised they were for Theo, he made them top priority and promised they would be done in five.

  Of course, by then everyone knew who Theo was. Everywhere we went on the island he was mobbed by screaming girls, waiting for his autograph and fainting if he so much as smiled at them. Every press agent on the island vied for the first exclusive. At first, Theo insisted he was just simply holidaying on Naxos. Finally, he agreed to tell his story, in the hope of getting some privacy. We practised the interview over and over, until it became more real to us than the reality and my brother more monstrous than the monster my father ever created.

  Chapter Five Simple Blind Faith

  “My next guest is a remarkable young man who is on his way back home to Athens, after an amazing feat of heroism. Luckily for us, he decided to take a break on our tiny island! Please give a warm welcome to Theseus, son of King Aegeus of Athens.” The band played the tune of a famous Athenian song, which was quickly drowned out by clapping and cheering as Theo descended the stairs, under the glare of a spotlight.

  Practice makes perfect and Theo played his part to perfection, describing, in lavish detail, the great vastness of The Labyrinth, its nooks, crannies and dead-ends. How the noise of the monster echoed through each corridor, how eventually he turned a corner and saw the monster gnawing on some old bones.

  “But what did he actually look like?” Mikos, the chat show host, pressed him.

  “He was gynormous, his body was that of a young, athletic man, but the head upon the shoulders …” At this, Theo paused and shuddered slightly and the audience fell silent. “The head was grotesque, as if a man’s head had been cut off and in its place someone had stuck the head of an angry, ugly, blood-thirsty bull. It had puss-filled tumours and hair growing out of its ears!” The audience gasped; I winced. This was close, too close to the truth for my liking, and not what we had practised. Especially the bit about the ear hair which, curiously, considering the rest of his deformities, was something that Aster had been particularly sensitive about. Maybe it was something he felt he could control, which made him so fastidious about it. I had spent endless hours plucking them out for him while he tried not to flinch. After Andro died he hadn’t been so bothered, but when Theo arrived my services and tweezers had been required again.

  “Don’t ask me to describe it further,” continued Theo, getting back to the script. “It was a sight no man should ever see, nor any lady, have to imagine.” Now the camera focused on Theo’s exquisite white smile and women all over Naxos swooned. The interview started to draw to a close, but Mikos had one more question.

  “I have it on good authority that you had some very welcome and beautiful assistance?”

  “Yes, the daughter of King Minos gave me some twine so that I could unravel it and use it to guide my way back, through the tunnels.”

  “And is the daughter of King Minos with you now?”

  “Yes, the daughter of King Minos is with me now,” said Theo carefully.

  “So you butchered the beast and made away with the girl - a fitting prize for a hero and a high standard for every young man to live up to! Join me next week when my guests include the rock-grunge god Dion, lead singer of Libertia, who causes a stir wherever he goes. It should be an entertaining evening!” I’d stopped listening. I was thinking about the fact that Theo hadn’t mentioned my name.

  Five days on Naxos suited us. At first, Theo and I lived the honeymoon dream, walking hand in hand along the sand, waves lapping at our feet; that was when Theo wasn’t being mobbed by his adoring fans. Still, it gave me good training as the wife of a press-hounded, not to mention savaged, husband. At least the paparazzi on Naxos were a) complimentary and b) not interested in me. Posing for a photograph, flashing a dazzling smile as I stood, dutifully, next to Theo was all I was required to do. Surely such a happy couple would have a happy ending? Tell that to my mother!

  We’d picnic at the foot of Mount Za, lying on our backs, looking up at the clear blue sky. Our evenings were spent talking, over candlelit dinners in beachside estiatorias, trying the local specialities, rich icaloyeros or sumptuous icefalopodia. We’d watch the sun set, looking forward to it rising again so we could spend another glorious day together. Yes, I was loved-up. Looking back now, it was sickening. What I was too naïve to realise was that I was having the honeymoon before the wedding, never a good plan. But I was young, emotional and thought I had everything, or was going to get everything, I’d ever wanted.

  Theo told me that he intended to leave Naxos, the day after he gave his exclusive. There had been a storm on Naxos, before we arrived, so the phone lines were down, severing all contact with the mainland. The programme wouldn’t air for a week, and on the mainland, not until the following one. So, due to the communication problems, the news of his survival wouldn’t have reached Athens and every second must have been agony for his father. So, after
the interview I went to get the white sails from the vendor (who didn’t bother to hide his disappointment that Theo hadn’t collected them personally, but brightened when I gave him Theo’s autograph. I had perfected it by then).

  That night I gave the sails to Theo. He had been sent a crate of Eastern drink by an admirer. The symbols on the box reminded me of something, but I couldn’t think what. It wasn’t to my taste, but Theo drank the whole lot. We slept next to each other for the last time, on the beach, under the stars with the sails covering us. The next day I woke up shivering in the early morning chill. The sails were gone and so was Theo.

  Although he took the white sails with him, Theo’s hasty abandonment of me on Naxos meant that I couldn’t remind him to change them, and he sailed home with the customary black ones. Fitting his reliable reputation, Aegeus was true to his word and was watching from the cliff top, where he had promised Theo he would be waiting. Looking up at the cliff, Theo saw his father and waved to him excitedly. It was no use. Aegeus’s eyes were filled with the black sails and, believing the ship was carrying the remains of his beloved son, old Aegeus jumped into the sea in grief. Somehow this tragedy was blamed on me, a woman scorned and all that. The truth, for what it’s worth, was that I felt desperately sorry, but what could I have done? I had acquired the sails and Theo had taken them. I didn’t expect Theo to leave me. Instead, I woke on Naxos with no Theo, no ship, no food; the only clothes I had were the ones I’d slept in. The remnants of a one night stand, including the prerogative of the dumped - to replay every detail of the night before, to find a clue.