by Theseus- The King Who Killed the Minotaur (retail) (epub)
*
Ariadne led Theseus back to his cell.
‘Good luck tomorrow,’ she said. ‘Are you frightened?’
‘No!’ replied Theseus stoutly. ‘Well … a bit.’
‘No need. You’ll be all right,’ said Ariadne and she kissed him.
After she’d gone, Theseus lay listening to the silence – a silence broken only by an occasional bull-like roar from somewhere deep under the palace.
*
At noon the cell doors swung open and the Athenians began their journey to the maze. They marched for miles down gloomy winding corridors. Cold and damp began to seep into their bodies as they plunged deeper and deeper into the bowels of the earth. The walls were rougher than the stubble on a giant’s beard and tiny. slithery animals jumped on them and nipped at them as they passed, having a nibble before the Minotaur had his big meal. Then, at the end of a long flight of slippery steps covered with green slime, they saw ahead of them a gigantic carved bull’s head with blazing torches for eyes, and a massive black studded door where its mouth should have been. The Minoan guards heaved the door open and the Athenians were roughly shoved inside. There was a slam, then a rattle of chains and the door was bolted behind them.
They were inside the maze. And if history was anything to go by, it was the door of their coffin that had just closed behind them.
*
It was pitch black, and they had to grope about to get their bearings.
‘AAAARRGHHH!!!’ Someone let out a terrified scream: he’d tripped over something. It was a skull – a human skull. One of the young men began to moan with terror.
‘Oh, get a grip!’ snapped Theseus sharply. ‘Here. Do something useful. Tie this string to the door. I’m going exploring.’ And with that, he began to inch his way through the maze, unrolling the ball of string as he went. The other Athenians just assumed he’d gone mad and waited for their death.
The walls were jagged and sharp, like enormous stone thorns; they tore at Theseus’ clothes and ripped his hands. And now he could smell the foul stench he had noticed when they first arrived – a smell of sewage, and rotting meat and death – it was so strong his stomach churned and his eyes watered.
‘GRRAAAAOOOOW!!!!!’
He started in fright as the blood-thirsty bull’s roar resounded in his ears and echoed and re-echoed round every wall of the maze.
Then there was silence. Everything was quiet and still.
First Theseus waited. Then cautiously he turned a sharp corner. Ahead of him was something dark and enormous with blazing yellow eyes and hot breath. In the half light its shiny skin glistened like the skin of a toad – but it was twice the size of an elephant.
Theseus knew he was face to face with death itself.
But there was no time to be afraid – in a second there was a clatter of enormous hooves and the beast reared and charged at Theseus, slobbering and chuckling as it came. Theseus leapt and dodged out of its way. A moment’s silence, then a crunch of stones as the monstrous bull turned and charged again. Again Theseus dodged, and this time the Minotaur’s horns missed him by a cat’s whisker – and a pretty skinny whisker at that. There was a screech of pebbles, and it charged yet again. Theseus made to jump, but instead, his foot slipped on something disgusting and wet. It might have been a kidney. The Prince of Athens fell defenceless on the floor.
The Minotaur seemed to know it had won. It let out a triumphant bellow and lowered its head to deliver the final thrust. But when it was almost on him, Theseus sprang up with a last burst of energy and vaulted astride the monster’s head, riding it like a wild bull. He grasped one of its horns, and heaved and twisted. There was a terrible crunching sound, like a young tree being torn out of the earth by its roots. Then …
‘ARRGGHHH!!!!!!!’
Back at the entrance, the Athenians heard a terrible cry. A death cry. They waited in terror. Then they heard the sound of something coming towards them. It was breathing heavily. They clung to each other, knowing death was on its way. And then …
‘Wow – I’m puffed!’ said Theseus. ‘Anyone want a ball of string?’
The Athenians were so stunned with relief, they couldn’t speak.
‘Oh, yes, and by the way – the Minotaur’s dead,’ added the young hero.
*
In triumph, the Athenians hurled themselves at the massive studded door. On the other side the guards tried to keep it shut, but they didn’t stand a chance. BLAAAMMM!!! The door burst its hinges and crashed to the ground. Beneath it lay the guards – squashed flat like armoured pancakes. The Athenians raced out – and there, in the shadows, stood Ariadne. ‘You’ll be wanting this,’ she said, and threw Theseus his stubby sword and a big nervous smile. ‘Now follow me.’
And very much alive, they bounded up the green slimy stairs that only an hour before they had gone down to their death. On they pressed through secret doors and tiny passages, killing any Minoan who got in their way, until at last, in a tangle of plumbing, they came to a massive drain pipe. ‘This is the way out,’ said Ariadne. ‘Nothing personal.’
One after another they climbed into it and slid down, down, down until with a mighty plop they found themselves lying on the ground outside the palace walls.
But there was not a moment to rest. Above them they heard a roar: ‘Stop the prisoners! Stop my daughter!’ They looked over their shoulders and saw the outline of King Minos, his crown of bulls’ horns glinting in the afternoon sun.
‘Thanks for having us!!’ the laughing Theseus shouted back, and sprinted down to the beach and onto the ship. With one blow of his sword, he cut the mooring rope free and swiftly the Athenians grabbed the oars and hoisted the black sails, bound for home.
BLAAM!
Behind them the city gates burst open and there was Daedalus racing towards the quayside pursued by hundreds of Minoan soldiers.
But his skinny pink legs just wouldn’t carry him fast enough. The boat was already pulling out towards the open sea.
‘Jump!!!!’ shouted Theseus, while there was still a chance. ‘Swim to the boat!!!!’
‘I can’t swim,’ Daedalus shouted back, and a second later the soldiers had surrounded him. ‘I never learnt how,’ he muttered to himself as they led him away. ‘No matter how clever you are, you’re never quite clever enough.’
Chapter Three
3 – The Back Leg of an Ant
‘Traitor! Traitor! Dirty Greek traitor!’
Daedalus lay bound and gagged in the middle of the giant arena, while all around him hundreds of angry Minoans stood on their seats chanting and waving their fists.
‘You gave away the secret of the maze,’ they yelled. ‘Because of you the Minotaur is dead.’
Then someone spat at him, someone else threw a handful of rotten figs and yoghurt, and pretty soon a shower of filthy garbage was hailing down on him. A lump of cold baked beans hit him splat on the nose.
‘Stop!’ A young boy raced out of the crowd and stood in front of Daedalus shouting. ‘Leave him alone. How dare you treat my father like this.’
‘That’s Icarus, the traitor’s son,’ replied a weedy voice in the crowd. ‘Kill him! Kill them both!’
And suddenly it wasn’t garbage the crowd was hurling. It was coins and stones and bricks.
Icarus was knocked to the ground. The crowd’s roar reached fever pitch. In a moment the traitors would be dead, but … NEEAAUUURGH!!! … there was the ear splitting screech of a bull’s horn being blown. The crowd hushed. King Minos had arrived. He spoke in a whisper but the whisper echoed round the whole arena.
‘Yes,’ he hissed. ‘The Greek maze maker has betrayed us, and he and his son shall die. But not yet. Daedalus is the most cunning craftsman known to man. First he shall make me a new Minotaur, a mechanical monster so powerful that no one will be able to resist it … not even Theseus.’
*
By now the Greeks were well out of Minoan waters. The bright summer sun was shining, smiling dolphins were leaping i
n and out of the sea, and everyone was getting nicely tanned. One bunch were playing quoits with the death garlands the Minoans had given them, a girl was being sick over the side – but she wasn’t complaining – at least she was alive. Even the jet black sails looked a little less gloomy now.
Ahead of them lay the island of Naxos, shimmering in the sunlight. It was a magical island, covered with dark green forest skirted by little fringes of silver sand. Wisps of purple and crimson smoke appeared between the trees and the occasional sound of a flute echoed across the water, but no one appeared on the beach to watch the ship go by.
Ariadne was gazing in silence when Theseus interrupted her thoughts.
‘We won’t anchor here,’ he said. ‘I don’t fancy being ambushed in those woods.’
Ariadne found it hard to imagine why anyone on Naxos would want to ambush them – she was sure there were better things to do on the island than bash people over the head – but she said nothing. She just sat and listened to the haunting strains of the unseen flute player in the woods.
‘Not much longer now, and we’ll be home,’ Theseus went on, not noticing she was in a strange mood. ‘My father’ll be dead chuffed when I come sailing into the harbour and hoist a pair of white sails – and I can’t wait to see his face when he sees I’ve got a wife! I wonder if he’ll abdicate straight away.’
Still Ariadne didn’t speak.
‘Strictly between you and me, I’m dying to be in charge,’ said Theseus, pressing on. ‘When I’m King and you’re Queen, we’ll eliminate my uncle Laius, then you can stay at home and do the palace-work while I wipe out any countries that cause us trouble. Then we’ll go back to Minos and take our revenge on your father.’
Slowly Ariadne turned to him. ‘I’ve not escaped one tyrant just to marry another,’ she said softly.
But Theseus wasn’t listening. ‘I mean, you’ve got to be practical, haven’t you. If we don’t flatten them, they’ll flatten us, right?’ he said confidently, then patted Ariadne on the head and moved off towards the wheel house.
When suddenly …
Plop!
There was a little splash.
Theseus turned back and couldn’t believe his eyes. Ariadne had disappeared. In a flash he’d torn off his shirt and rushed to the side, sure she must have fallen in and was now waiting for him to rescue her in his strong arms.
But not at all. Instead, he saw his future wife confidently swimming through the water – long, powerful strokes – each one taking her farther away from him and nearer the island.
‘What are you doing?’ he shouted. ‘Come back!’
But Ariadne took no notice. She was out of the sea now and walking up the sand.
‘You can’t go off on your own!’ yelled Theseus. ‘You’re completely unprotected. Here – take this!’ and waved his short stubby sword round and round his head.
But Ariadne just kept walking towards the trees. Finally, the moment before she disappeared into the forest, she turned and waved goodbye. Then, just like that, she was gone.
Theseus stood there frowning, his sword’s ruby handle glinting in the sun, his mind completely befuddled. And he would never be any the wiser. Was she torn to pieces by ravenous wolves in the outskirts of the forest? Did she marry the flute player and start an orchestra? Maybe she learnt the magic of the island and became the High Priestess. Theseus would never know. Because he never saw her again.
*
Meanwhile back in the Kingdom of Minos, Daedalus and Icarus were imprisoned in a dark tower that was covered with ivy and surrounded by six muscular guards with faces as ugly as rotten tomatoes that someone’s just stood on. Icarus was let out to work each day on the prison farm while his father stayed locked in alone, hunched over his work bench, making a new monster for Minos, a robot one that could never be beaten. But every moment he was racking his brains thinking how to escape.
Then one day, the shadow of a bird flew past, and Ping! it gave Daedalus an idea. And, of course, since he was Daedalus, it was a dead clever idea – when Daedalus’ brain went ‘Ping!’, it was a ping worth listening to.
From now on, each evening Icarus smuggled feathers in his trousers from the farm’s dovecote and wax from the farm’s beehives. The guards used to laugh at the size of his bottom, stuffed full of stuff as it was, but Icarus didn’t mind. He knew he’d have the last laugh. And every night, father and son worked on their means of escape. At first it looked like they were making a tiny model of a bird’s wing. But then the model grew. And grew. After a couple of weeks they had made a huge wing, like the wing of a giant, swooping eagle. Then they made a second one, then a third, until hidden under their beds were two giant pairs of wings. They were going to fly to freedom.
*
At last the great day arrived. They waited impatiently for the sun to drop beneath the horizon, then strapped the massive wings tightly to their arms and shoulders and crawled out of the window of their cell onto the tiny ledge outside. It looked like a mile down to the bottom of the tower, and every gust of wind threatened to blow them off and send them crashing onto the rocks below.
‘I do hope my calculations were correct,’ said Daedalus nervously.
‘You’ve never been wrong before, Dad,’ replied Icarus.
‘No, I suppose I haven’t,’ agreed his father and jumped off the ledge.
WHOOOSH!!!
Down he dropped like a stone, spiralling towards the cruel rocks below. Icarus shut his eyes in horror … and missed the most incredible sight in the world. Daedalus began to wave his arms about, the wings started to flap, and suddenly his downward plummet came to a halt and he rose up gently into the air again. Soon he was level with his son.
‘You can open your eyes now,’ he said. ‘Come and join me.’
Icarus blinked in amazement. His Dad looked like a giant seagull with a very small beak.
‘Hang on a second,’ he replied. Then he squeezed back into the cell, grabbed the half completed monster his father had been working on, forced it out of the window, and KERBLANG! It smashed down right on the heads of the tomato-faced guards. They crashed to the ground, dazed and confused, and assumed it was some kind of dream when, in the bright moonlight, they looked up and saw two human-shaped birds fly away from the tower and head off towards Athens.
*
Soon Daedalus and Son, Inventors of Flying Machines Extraordinary, had left Minos’ kingdom far behind them and were speeding through the air like a pair of fighter planes. All through the night they flew until dawn broke.
‘Don’t fly too close to the sun,’ called Daedalus, ‘or the wax will melt!’
But Icarus just laughed. He was doing what no man had ever done before – he was flying. It was wonderful – he felt like a god.
He flew in loops.
In spirals.
Upside down.
Downside up.
He flew with one arm by his side and went round in circles. Then he flew with both arms by his side in a very amusing imitation, jiggity-jig, of an extremely drunk sparrow.
‘Don’t fly too close to the sun!’ his father yelled again, ‘OR THE WAX WILL MELT!!!’
But up and up went Icarus, higher and higher.
Only now there was something running down his body, down his legs and dripping into the sea – not that he noticed it.
He should have done.
It was melting wax.
And there were little white flurries like snow or tiny clouds – but he hardly noticed them either.
That was a mistake too.
They were doves’ feathers.
And then he wasn’t climbing any more, he was falling.
Down.
Down.
Down.
Down.
Until with a tiny splosh! he dropped into the sea.
For hours, Daedalus flew across the waves searching for Icarus. But he found nothing except a few wet feathers bobbing up and down on the surface of the quiet water. Eventually, broken hearted, he lef
t his son to his watery grave and flew sadly away. Only he wasn’t heading for Athens now. He was flying away as far as he could, away from the Greeks, away from King Minos and away from all his memories … forever.
*
On board ship Theseus had been in a bad mood for days. Why had Ariadne left him like that? What was it she had wanted that he couldn’t give her? After all, he was a pretty decent bloke really. And he had a fantastically muscly chest. Women were so illogical.
He chewed on a peanut and stared out to sea. Far away, a bird dropped out of the sky and plunged into the water.
‘What’s it all about?’ thought Theseus. He didn’t know. Then suddenly, the moment came that they had all been waiting and praying for. ‘Land ho!’ shouted the boy in the crow’s nest. They rushed to the side of the boat, and, yes, there, far away on the horizon, sparkling like a jewel, was Athens. The fourteen young Athenians hugged each other and cried and cheered and danced all round the deck. Even the boy in the crows nest had a little dance with a crow. They were home.
The boat moved gracefully and proudly, its black sails billowing in the gentle wind, towards the white cliffs of Athens. At one point, if Theseus had been watching, he might have seen another figure dropping to his death – a man jumping off a cliff and smashing lifeless into the shingle. But Theseus wasn’t looking. He was home, he was safe and the celebrations could begin. The ship glided alongside the pier, and Theseus leapt ashore, waiting for the medals, the brass bands, the cascades of flowers.
But where he had expected happiness, there was only sorrow …
‘Your father King Aegeus is alive no longer,’ said his heartbroken old nurse. ‘He threw himself off the High Cliff when he saw your boat.’
‘Why?’ asked Theseus incredulously.
