by Theseus- The King Who Killed the Minotaur (retail) (epub)
‘He saw the black sails and thought you were dead. You forgot to change the sails to white.’
Theseus cried for a long time – deep racking sobs of guilt and sorrow. He couldn’t make any sense of things. Then a thought struck him.
He looked up, wiped the tears from his eyes and said, ‘That means I’m King, doesn’t it?’
*
Back on his island, Minos lifted up the smashed remains of his mechanical Minotaur and hurled them into the sea. He was shaking with fury. Daedalus had tricked him twice. First he’d shown Theseus how to kill the Minotaur – and now he’d escaped from prison. Wherever he was hiding, Minos would find him, and when he found him, he would kill him … very slowly.
He picked something up from the seashore and gave his fawning courtiers a crooked smile. He had an idea. And King Minos loved his own ideas.
‘I shall hold a competition,’ he announced, ‘open to anyone in the whole world. You see this tiny seashell, so small that you have to squint to get a good look at it. You see how it spirals round and round like a maze.’
The courtiers put on their glasses and clustered round.
‘The first person cunning enough to pass a thread through every spiral of this shell shall win a fabulous prize – a life size bull of solid gold, with diamonds for eyes.’
‘But who could perform such an impossible task, oh wise and magnificent Lord?’ asked a particularly creepy courtier.
‘Only one man in the world,’ replied Minos. ‘Our friend the maze maker. When the prize has been won, I’ll have found Daedalus.’ And then he laughed. The nastiest, cruellest laugh you ever heard.
*
At that moment Daedalus was carrying a lavatory into the palace of the King of Sicily. He put it down among a clutter of shower curtains and taps and bathroom suites, and began to route a pipe towards the guest bedroom.
The Sicilians were an easy going bunch. They slept a lot, danced a lot, and they didn’t have regular meal times or inside plumbing. If they wanted a shower they’d use a waterfall, if they wanted a bath they’d lie in the sea. But the King didn’t want to appear old-fashioned so, when Daedalus had appeared in Sicily alone and un-smiling, he’d been invited to install running water at the palace.
As Daedalus screwed on another section of plumbing, a jewelled crown popped up from behind an up-turned bath and the King said, ‘I hope I’m not interrupting, but do you remember me asking you yesterday if you could pass a thread through the spirals of that shell I gave you?’
‘Er … Yes,’ said Daedalus vaguely, as he lay on his back behind a wash basin, fiddling away at a U-bend. Then he reached into his back pocket and passed something to the King. ‘Here it is.’
Greedily the King snatched it and peered at it through an ivory magnifying glass. Sure enough, there was a tiny silk thread through every one of the shell’s spirals.
‘Brilliant!’ exclaimed the King. ‘How on earth did you do it?’
‘Oh, it wasn’t much of a problem,’ replied Daedalus. ‘I trained an ant to come when I called it, then tied the thread to its back leg, pushed it into the shell and kept on calling it until it crawled round and round and came out the other end. Pass me that adjustable spanner, would you?’ he said and went on with his pipe laying.
The King rushed out of the room and began drafting a letter claiming his prize.
*
Within days Minos had arrived.
‘Congratulations,’ he said to the Sicilian King as he presented him with the golden bull. ‘Tell me, did you solve the problem single handed?’
‘Yes,’ replied the King, ‘virtually … Well, I mean. I had a little help from my plumber.’
‘Your plumber!’ hissed Minos and one corner of his mouth began to twitch. ‘May I meet him?’
‘Certainly,’ replied the King magnanimously. ‘Tonight we’ll hold a celebration banquet and I shall invite him. In the meantime perhaps you’d like a bath. I’ve got a superb new guest bedroom with plenty of modern hot and cold water.’
Behind the King a curtain moved. It was as though someone had been listening.
*
Early that evening Minos lay in his bath smiling. Very soon he’d see Daedalus again and then the fun would begin. He smiled and slowly squeezed his bar of soap until it looked like porridge.
At that moment a trickle of hot water began to run out of the hot tap. ‘Typical shoddy Sicilian workmanship!’ thought Minos and leaned forward to turn it off – but the tap came away in his hands. Then hot water began running out of the cold tap – a second later Minos found himself with two taps in his hands. And now the water was getting hotter and hotter and the bathroom was filling with steam. In panic Minos tried to get out of the bath – but it was no use – now there was water pouring down from the ceiling. Scalding hot water. And a second later there was water shooting out of the walls – burning hot water.
Minos gave a scream of terror and fear – a scream that sounded like a bull in a slaughterhouse, or the death agonies of the Minotaur. He clambered to his feet in blind panic, then he slipped on the porridgy soap and crashed back into the bath.
There was a hissing sound. Then silence. Minos lay under the bath water – dead clean and dead dead.
*
In the next room, Daedalus slowly turned a stop-cock and the water stopped. For the first time in months he gave a little smile. ‘That’s for my son Icarus,’ he said.
Chapter Four
4 – The Trip to the Very Mouth of Hell
A blood curdling roar filled the air as the Athenians bore down on the rebels in a final charge. Armour thudded against armour, horses pawed the air in panic, and in the centre of it all was young King Theseus, his short stubby sword stained deep red. But suddenly, over towards the forest he saw a figure grab a loose horse and furtively slip away from the fighting. It was someone he knew all too well – his treacherous uncle Laius, sneaking away from the battle once again. But this time, he wasn’t going to get away with it.
With one bound Theseus had mounted his white stallion, hacked his way through the seething crowd and set off in hot pursuit. A slow smile spread across his face – soon his final victory would be complete. He’d been King for two years now and Athens was so strong that no outsider dared attack it. Once Laius’ lackies had been defeated nothing could stand in the way of Athens’ greatness.
*
Theseus rode straight into the forest, his eyes flashing from side to side in search of his foe. He saw nothing, but heard a sound, so plunged on deeper and deeper into the undergrowth, like a dog following a fox’s scent. The sky grew darker above him, the air grew cold and wet, but still he pushed on after his evil uncle. Then suddenly, the scent went cold – and Theseus looked up to realise he was completely lost. Lost in the deepest, darkest corner of the forest.
He moved on aimlessly, hour after hour, rained on and exhausted, until he felt so weary he could barely keep his eyes open. But then at last, when he was losing hope of ever finding a way out, he saw a faint glimmer of light. There ahead of him was an inn. A pretty gloomy old inn, but nevertheless somewhere he could rest until morning.
A door creaked slowly open and there stood a smiling sleek-faced man with skin the colour of a white rat.
‘Do you have a spare bed?’ asked the weary Theseus.
‘Do I have a spare bed?’ echoed the innkeeper, his high pitched voice quivering with excitement. ‘I have the perfect bed for you, my dear.’
‘Thanks,’ replied Theseus gratefully. ‘I’m dead tired.‘
‘Yes, I’m sure you are,’ said the innkeeper and cackled wildly at some unexplained joke as he showed the young King to his room.
He’s mad, thought Theseus, but what do I care?
He slumped onto the bed and blew out the light. The room was in total darkness.
*
Half an hour later the door slowly opened again. There stood the innkeeper, a candle in his shaky hand. Another man stood behind him. Flickering candle l
ight played across his face – it was uncle Laius.
‘Look at his legs, my Lord. They’re too long,’ hissed the innkeeper, pointing at Theseus’ boots sticking out the end of the bed.
‘I’m sure you can remedy that,’ came the soft reply.
The innkeeper giggled insanely and drew out a meat cleaver.
‘Dead tired, eh?’ he whispered. Then, ‘Tired and Dead, more likely!’ he screamed, raised the cleaver in the air and struck.
Flum! Flum! The blade cut through Theseus’ boots like butter.
Laius let out a tiny screech of joy, then froze as he felt the point of a knife pressing against his back. He turned and saw Theseus with a pleasant smile on his face. He’d been standing behind the door. The boots in the bed belonged to him all right, but they were as empty as a pair of coconuts.
‘If I’d been younger,’ Theseus said, ‘I’d have killed you straight away. Unfortunately I can no longer afford to give myself that pleasure. Instead I’m going to put you on trial. When the Athenians hear my story, and realise how foul and depraved you and your followers are, they’ll exile you for ever,’ and he trussed the two wretches up like chickens, flung them over his horse, and slowly rode back to Athens.
*
But when he reached the city it was in uproar. Shopkeepers were nailing up their windows, carts were being rolled over and turned into make-shift barricades, half mad people were rushing in all directions, clutching bundles of possessions. Everywhere there were dogs barking, cats miaowing and pigs oinking their tails off; all their masters had scarpered in the mad rush.
A terrified butcher was hurtling down the road wearing a necklace of sausages and carrying a cage full of chickens and a cash register. Theseus leant out of his saddle and grabbed him by a giblet.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘It’s the pirates, my Lord,’ came the terrified reply. ‘They’ve landed at Marathon and they’re coming this way!’
Theseus drew a deep breath. Being King wasn’t exactly restful.
Then he galloped to the Palace, rode up the Palace steps (only he was allowed to do that), and let out an almighty yell: ‘HARRROOOO!!!’
It was a secret sign: within ten seconds, a dozen of his best men sat mounted before him at attention on a dozen of his best horses.
‘Trouble,’ said Theseus. And they set off to face it.
*
An hour later they arrived breathless at the flat grassy plain of Marathon. In front of them, armed to their rotting teeth and grinning like mad monkeys were fifty mean pirates – and they hadn’t come to picnic. The two small armies faced each other. Most of the Athenians wore golden belts, most of the pirates had one eye. Most of the Athenians were clean shaven, most of the pirates had beards so rough you could have used them for scrubbing really dirty frying pans. There was silence. You could have heard a pin drop. In fact one did drop out of the nose of one of the pirates, and everyone heard it.
Then a figure stepped out of the pirate ranks. He was a huge black man, with a mass of hair which dangled down the side of his body in a plait, a ruby earring, gold teeth and a scar which ran from the corner of his grinning mouth right up to where his ear lobe would have been if it hadn’t been chopped off in a fight. But most of all, he was tall: he looked like he’d been stretched and stayed that way.
‘I’ve heard tell of an Athenian King named Theseus,’ he drawled, and his voice rumbled like thunder across the water. ‘I’ve heard he’s brave and fearless and that he killed the Cretan monster. Which one is he?’
Theseus stepped forward and gave a tiny nod.
‘Then I, Pirithous, King of the Pirates, challenge you to single combat.’
Theseus gave another little nod – this time accompanied by a tiny smile. To be honest, this sort of thing was rather his cup of tea. He’d never cared for the quiet life.
In an instant, the two armies had formed a circle round Theseus and the giant Pirate King. The two heroes stood motionless, their hands poised just above their sword hilts. Deeply they gazed into each others’ eyes, each one knowing that if he lost concentration even for a second, it would mean instant death and his head rolling around on the ground like a big potato.
Hour upon hour went by. Neither man so much as twitched. The two armies were tense and motionless.
Then, towards evening, a lark rose out of the grass, higher and higher it flew, singing its little heart out; for one fateful instant Pirithous’ eyes flickered and … SHONK! Theseus struck.
In a blur and a spin, Pirithous’ sword flew into the air —
In a sudden jolt his legs were kicked from underneath him –
In a flash of a fist his nose was punched into his head —
And there stood Theseus, his sword above his head, ready to deliver the fatal blow.
Pirithous lay on the grass smiling ruefully.
‘I’ve lost,’ he said. ‘Still, that bird was singing a real pretty song. Look – the soldiers must be getting a bit peckish. Take my life now, will you, so they can go get something to eat.’
Theseus looked him up and down, and just couldn’t help smiling. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I won’t take your life. I’ll take your friendship, instead. Here, let me give you a hand.’ And reaching down, he pulled Pirithous to his feet.
Everyone cheered and Pirithous and Theseus swore eternal friendship, there on the Plain of Marathon. The Pirates and the Athenians cuddled each other and swapped belts and eye-patches, and soon they were all riding back to Athens surrounded by happy townspeople. Peanut-sellers and patch-salesmen were out in force and the terrified butcher made a fortune out of grilled sausages.
*
Next morning Laius and the mad innkeeper were put on trial and were banished for life to an uninhabited island – with only each other’s foul presence for company. At last Athens was completely safe. There were no wars, no riots, no street fighting – it was a place where everyone wanted to be. Theseus’ old friend and teacher Hercules came to stay (when he wasn’t too busy slaughtering man-eating donkeys or biting the heads off seven-headed monsters), and his other old teacher Daedalus was a permanent guest, forever designing new wonders for the city.
There was no Minotaur, no rebellion, no fear – which meant …
Theseus was bored! The city was full of artists – but one statue looked pretty much like the next to him; and it was full of actors – but he always fell asleep during their plays. What Theseus wanted was a good old punch-up – just like in the old days.
Then one day he caught Pirithous gazing moodily out of the window staring at the sea.
‘What’s up?’ he asked.
‘I’m in love,’ came the reply.
Theseus started to laugh. He roared, he guffawed, he rolled around on the floor hooting with derision.
‘In love! You!’ he said finally wiping the tears from his eyes. ‘You great soft wimp! Who is she?’
‘I’ve only seen her once,’ replied his moonstruck friend. ‘Her name’s Persephone and she’s the Queen of the Underworld. Do you think she’d come away with me if I asked her?’
‘Bound to,’ said Theseus. ‘She’d be crazy not to. You’re a really regular guy.’
Then there was a long pause as they both stared at the grey ocean. Finally Theseus spoke again. And now his eyes were shining with excitement.
‘I know,’ he said. ‘Let’s go get her. We’ll take your pirate ship and sail on until we actually reach the entrance to the Underworld.’ This was the adventure he’d been waiting for – the greatest adventure of them all. The trip to the very mouth of Hell.
*
No one ever said it would be easy. Through tempests they sailed, through whirlwinds, through seas so clotted with seaweed that the oars snapped like match sticks when the sailors leant on them. Then finally, just when they thought they were clear, a massive mauve sea monster rose from the ocean depths and bit the boat in two. Water poured into its severed halves and the ship and its crew sank slowly to a watery grave.
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Only Pirithous and Theseus had the brains to climb to the top of the mast and vault onto the creature’s back. It shook itself, it twisted, it dived, it jumped and it roared with irritation as it tried to shake them off; but they clung to its slippery stinking scales for dear life.
Finally, exhausted, the monster heaved itself up onto a desolate beach, collapsed, and fell fast asleep. And the two exhausted sailors fell asleep too in the folds of its skin.
Next morning they awoke to the deafening sound of the creature snoring. They slipped off its back, patted it on the nose and watched as it dozily crawled down to the water’s edge and swam off.
It was only now that they bothered to turn and see where they were. It certainly wasn’t home. In fact, it was more like … Hell.
*
It was bleak. Very bleak. There was no life, no vegetation, and certainly no fast-food: just choking grey smoke, black cliffs, dribbles of molten lava, and high above them a dark, threatening volcano puffing poisonous green smoke out of its twin craters.
‘It’s no holiday camp, is it?’ murmured Theseus gloomily, but Pirithous was smiling.
‘Who’d have thought it?’ he said. ‘Who ever would have thought it? This is the place we’ve been looking for. All we have to do is find a way to get inside that volcano and we’ll be at the entrance to the Underworld!’
And so, all alone, the two heroes set off to raid the Underworld. For days they picked their way across the scorching landscape, searching for a cave which would lead them to the Kingdom of Persephone. Then at last Theseus said, ‘OW!!’ and their problems were solved. He had stubbed his toe on a tiny crack in the smooth side of the mountain. Theseus slipped his fingers in, and then clenched his fist. The crack became a fissure. Then they both forced their arms in, and heaved, so the fissure became a hole: then they pushed and they shoved and they squeezed in their whole bodies, and then wriggled until…
