by Theseus- The King Who Killed the Minotaur (retail) (epub)
Suddenly, phwoosh!!!!, they were inside the volcano…
As the hole closed slowly behind them, they could see they were standing in a cave the size of a cathedral. There were silver stalagmites going upwards, golden stalactites coming downwards, and the walls and ceiling were encrusted with diamonds. At the far end was a dark tunnel. When they reached it they drew their swords and stepped firmly into the darkness. One step, two steps, three steps forward and then VOOOOM!! the ground disappeared from under them and their legs flayed about in the empty air as they went
Down.
Down.
Down.
Down.
tumbling head over heels until WHACK! they landed in a heap on a black shining floor.
Then they heard a laugh – a soft purring laugh that was so strange it made their stomachs feel funny – like they’d just swallowed something furry. Bruised and puzzled they looked up.
Ahead of them, on a throne of glistening black coal sat the woman they had been searching for – Queen Persephone. She was tall, she was beautiful, and she was stroking two giant moles which lay snuggled in her lap.
‘Sorry to burst in on you like this,’ said Pirithous cheerfully, ‘but I love you and want you to come away with me.’
One of the moles started mewing. ‘And what if I don’t wish to come, big boy?’ replied Persephone.
‘Then we’ll carry you off with us,’ said Theseus, chuckling.
‘Some people never learn,’ murmured Persephone to her big brown pets.
Then she snapped her fingers. Out of nowhere an enormous sofa appeared. It was most certainly not the kind of thing you see in the average sitting room. Instead of little flowers, it had huge creeping plants embroidered on it, and its legs were carved in the shape of giant writhing snakes. Nevertheless, when Persephone gestured towards it, Pirithous and Theseus politely sat down.
That was a big mistake. Because this was no ordinary sofa. ZOOOONK!!! Immediately the carved snakes came to life and wound themselves round their legs and arms. The creeping plants burst into flower and wrapped their tendrils around the bodies of the two heroes. Then the cushions melted into sticky holdfast glue and they couldn’t move an inch. If you’ve ever felt stuck on a sofa talking to someone boring, it was nothing compared to this. These guys were never going to get out.
‘Help!!!’ they yelled. ‘Let us out!‘
At least that’s what they tried to yell, but they couldn’t. When they opened their mouths not a sound came out – which is no surprise. A big snake had wrapped itself round their faces, from ear to ear.
‘You will remain here for ever,’ said Persephone, ‘silent and stupid. You men – with your noise and your boasting and silly little pointed swords. Me – come away with you? I’d rather run away with an unattractive hippopotamus.’
And having put them firmly in their place, she politely disappeared into thin air.
It was not a good situation. For weeks the friends sat glued to their sofa, and the harder they wriggled, the tighter they were trapped. They couldn’t eat or drink because the stupid snake had fallen asleep on their faces. Soon they both looked like skeletons – half dead dead men in the land of the dead. Theseus, the King who killed the Minotaur, had a feeling his luck had run out.
*
But then, one day, they woke to the sound of a terrifying hammering on the ceiling above. Boom. Boom. Boom!!
Then BOOOOMMM!!!!
The ceiling cracked open and daylight flooded in. Seconds later, a rope snaked down to the ground, followed by a big burly man. The biggest burliest man in the world. Yes – it was Hercules. And not a moment too soon.
‘I thought I might find you here,’ he said and sprinted towards the sofa. And well he might – there was no time to spare. Straightaway, Queen Persephone’s voice echoed round the cavern.
‘Who has dared enter the Underworld?’ she screamed.
In a flash, the walls began to shake, boulders crashed down from the ceiling and the floor started to crack, leaving huge gaping holes that bubbled slimy purple lava. Hercules had to move fast. He dodged and weaved as trickily as an Argentinian footballer until he made it to the sofa with only a couple of flesh wounds. Once there, he wrapped his strong arms round his old pupil Theseus and the veins stood out on his bronzed biceps like veins on a piece of marble as he pulled and pulled to free him from the Sofa of Death.
ZERRROINCH!! There was a long tearing noise like the sound of a giant zip being opened and in a flash Theseus was free. He would have run off straightaway, but there was such an agonising throbbing in his rear end that he had to take a look behind. It was not a pretty sight. Unfortunately, that ripping sound had been the sound of his bottom. Half of it was still left on the sofa.
(And for those of you who are interested in useless facts, that is why, to this day, Athenians have such small bottoms.)
But this was no time for gathering interesting facts. Hercules dragged his half-bottomed friend across the slippery black floor, avoiding rocks and lava and falling debris, until finally Theseus made it to the rope and began to inch his way back to daylight. Then Hercules remembered Pirithous and turned back to the sofa to get him. But it was too late. The whole floor now began groaning and writhing and bubbling – in fact it wasn’t a floor at all, but a hideous hot purple lake. Slowly the sofa began to sink. Pirithous looked up at Theseus and they both knew this was goodbye. And as he disappeared into the lava for ever, Pirithous raised his arm above his head in a silent farewell salute. Soon all you could see was his hand. Then only his fingers, then only his fingernails, and finally – nothing but a black eye patch and a ruby ear-ring floating on the bubbling waters.
*
Some time later, Theseus lay propped up on the deck of Hercules’ ship, swathed in bandages. The sky was full of jet black smoke, lit only by the inferno from which he’d just escaped.
He looked up at Hercules. ‘Thanks,’ he said huskily.
‘You’ve found your voice then.’
‘Yes,’ replied King Theseus quietly. ‘But I’ve lost the best friend I ever had.’ And as he sailed back towards home, far below in the bowels of the earth, Persephone prowled her lonely corridors with her blind moles in her arms and smiled at the revenge she’d wreaked on the puny men who dared invade her kingdom. She was sorry to lose the sofa, but hell, she thought, everything costs you something.
*
Back in Athens the boys received a hero’s welcome.
‘Theseus has returned from the Underworld,’ everyone cried. ‘Long live Theseus! Theseus the hero! Theseus the immortal! Theseus the God!’
But Theseus had lost his friend, his ship, and half his bottom – and his dreams were haunted by the look of contempt in Persephone’s eyes. He felt a total failure.
After that, years went by and Athens grew bigger and more powerful. Soon it was the centre of the whole known world. But its famous King hardly spoke to anyone. All he ever seemed to do was stare out at the sea, as he slowly turned into an old man.
Then one spring morning, there was a knock at the palace door. Standing there was a proud young man looking just like Theseus had twenty years before.
‘My Lord,’ he said. ‘My name is Jason. I’m sailing to the far away land of Colchis to steal the Golden Fleece. I’ve got room for twenty heroes. You may be old, but you’re top of my list. How about it?’
Theseus didn’t say a word. He kicked off his velvet slippers and pulled on his old sandals; he slipped out of his dressing gown and slapped on some oil; he threw away his crown and strapped on his short stubby sword; then he put his arm around Jason’s shoulder and the two of them walked out of the palace without once looking back.
Bobbing gently in the harbour was Jason’s golden boat. Theseus climbed aboard and took his place. On one side of him sat Hercules picking his teeth. On the other sat Daedalus making a compass from the bones of a dolphin. At last Theseus was really home. Home on the open sea, in search of adventure.
Jason gave th
e word and the twenty heroes leant on their oars. Out of the harbour they rowed, across the wide ocean and over the horizon towards Colchis. If they’d known what horrors were in store they might not have gone…
But that’s another story.
First published in United Kingdom in 1988 by Hodder and Stoughton
This edition published in the United Kingdom in 2016 by
Canelo Digital Publishing Limited
57 Shepherds Lane
Beaconsfield, Bucks HP9 2DU
United Kingdom
Copyright © 1988 by Tony Robinson and Richard Curtis
The moral right of Tony Robinson and Richard Curtis to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
ISBN 9781910859346
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Look for more great books at www.canelo.co
