I wouldn’t have survived but for the favor of my father, Poseidon. As soon as I flung myself from the cliff face, I became airborne above the sea, Poseidon’s domain. In or above the sea, Poseidon could defy the laws of nature, the laws of physics. I know this now because he later told me. At the time, of course, I didn’t credit him, putting my survival down to Icarus’s clever construct.
At first, I thought I was going to die. I plunged headfirst toward the waiting sea. The speed was immense. To my shame, I screamed, the noise emerging as a roar of fear. Just before I plunged to my death, a mighty wind suddenly sprung up, blasting into my wings and catapulting me into the night sky.
I soared then. A feeling of power overcame me, freedom. Joy. My one regret was that I had not had the chance to look back. I wondered for a fleeting moment what was happening to Phaedra, Androgeus, and Icarus. I hoped they wouldn’t be punished too severely. The thought was pushed aside by my elation. I had never imagined that flight could be like this.
High across the wine dark Cretan sea I flew, kept aloft by a divine wind pushing me northward. Daedalus had given us enough geography lessons for me to have some understanding of the journey I faced. The immensity of it. If I continued in this direction, eventually I would reach the islands of the Aegean. Thirty leagues would take me to the first inhabited island, Thera. After that, I had no idea how I would get to the mainland. As I said, I was just a boy. There were many islands scattered throughout the Aegean. I had a vague idea that I would simply fly from one to the next, stopping only to eat and drink before continuing my journey to the mainland.
Reality and perhaps fate unfortunately interceded. After several hours of thoroughly enjoyable flight, my arms started to ache and my great strength to ebb. I didn’t know how much longer I would be able to hold them out. Not only that, but my endurance was already seriously taxed by the poison that I had only just overcome. On top of that, I was exhausted. My eyelids began to flutter tiredly.
At that moment, Poseidon once again took an interest in me.
The wind dropped so suddenly that before I was even aware of it, I was plummeting toward the waiting sea. I flapped my arms desperately, but they were too weak. I plunged into the water with a mighty splash. The water wasn’t cold, but it was sufficient to revive me. I surfaced, spluttering, flailing wildly with my arms. The impact had torn the wings from me. I paddled over to them and made a raft of sorts. This was fortunate. As I have already mentioned, I had no affinity with the sea. Unlike Phaedra, I couldn’t swim.
The wings gave me buoyancy. I collapsed onto them, resting my face on my arms, my legs dangling in the water. I don’t know how long I slept for but I did, lulled by the gentle lapping of the waves. I didn’t stop to think about how lucky I had been. Normally, the Cretan sea was churned up into ship destroying waves by storms at this time of year. My true father had once again smiled upon me.
I was woken by something brushing against my naked feet. I was dreaming about Phaedra at the time. As first, I thought it was part of my dream and smiled lazily. Then, I felt a second impact. I awoke with a start. Something was in the sea beneath me.
Just then, a fin emerged, slicing through the water. A shark! I panicked, my frantic motions causing me to lose my grip on my wings. I sank beneath the water, my helmet and heavy body dragging me down. I tried to thrash to the surface, but I was weak. I considered discarding my helmet but was reluctant to do so. It was that or drown, though. Frantically, I began to fumble with the straps.
Suddenly, a massive dark shape appeared at my side, sliding under my arm and lifting me up to the surface. I was too exhausted to protest, waiting for the shark to finish me off. It was just toying with me. My head brushed against its smooth flanks. Wait! Smooth flanks. Even with my limited experience, I knew sharks didn’t have smooth bodies. I had felt them at the fish markets. I’d even eaten a shark. I knew their skin was rough with thousands of tiny teeth. A brush like that would’ve taken the skin off my face.
I lifted my head, examining the creature underneath me. It was, of course, a dolphin. I might’ve been lucky. I might’ve been in the right place at the right time. But it did occur to me that perhaps, just perhaps, my father was taking an active hand in my fate. Regardless, I was alive for the moment. It was more than I had hoped for.
Ω
I must’ve fallen asleep again. I awoke, confused, to find my arm draped over the back of the dolphin, my cheek pressed into its sleek skin. The sun had risen. A wave slopped into my face, waking me fully. I took stock of my situation. In the distance, I could see land. Dark cliff tops rose out of the sea, breaking the monotony of the water with their cold bulk. I relaxed. The dolphin was bringing me to land.
Distances are misleading at sea. Tired as I was, I thought perhaps land was close enough to paddle to. It was fortunate that I didn’t try. I would’ve surely drowned. It wasn’t until another hour had passed that my feet brushed against something harder than mere flesh. I had finally reached the beach. I staggered to my feet, somewhat unsteadily. The dolphin raised its head and eyed me with what I was sure was recognition. I patted it on the side and muttered words of thanks.
With a quick flick of its tail, it turned for deeper water and disappeared. I was alone.
I waded to the shore and flung myself down on the beach. I lay there for long moments, grasping the sand like a lover. I had never been so happy to see land before. Finally, I sat up and looked around. At first, I thought the beach was deserted, and then I noticed a tiny upright speck in the distance. It was moving. I lurched to my feet and set off in that direction.
As I got closer, I realized that the speck was a man. A simple fisherman casting his net out into the waves. He was old and bronzed and so slim he looked almost emaciated. Thin wisps of gray hair failed to hide his almost complete baldness. He saw me, and his eyes widened with surprise or perhaps fright. I must have cast a strange image. Clad only in a loincloth and my bull’s helm, he might have first surmised that I was some god emerged from the sea. Perhaps Poseidon himself. He approached me nervously, fearfully.
“How can I help?’ he asked timidly. I’m sure if I had appeared without the helm, the encounter would’ve been altogether different. From my limited experience with fishermen on my own island, I had found them to be on the whole a distrustful, superstitious bunch. They survived because of the whim of the sea and the winds. Elements controlled by Poseidon. Clearly, he wasn’t taking any chances. If I was a god, he wasn’t about to offend me and risk being cursed by an empty net or a rotting hull. Or worse.
“Greetings,” I said. “Can you help me? I need food and water. I have money.” I reached down to the sack at my waist to find that it was gone. The waves must have washed it away. Gone were my money, my water, and my precious fishing line.
He watched me curiously as I fumbled at my waist, desperately hoping to find the sack somehow snagged within my loincloth. It wasn’t.
“Actually, it turns out that I don’t have any money after all,” I said, feeling a little embarrassed. “But I will work for whatever you can spare. I also seek passage to the mainland.”
If he wondered why a god needed food, money, or passage, he never asked, unwilling to cause offense. I was, you have to remember, an extraordinarily large person. Regardless of whether I was a god or not, he was probably motivated by fear more than anything else.
He nodded and gathered his net without a word and indicated that I should follow him. In the days that followed, he spoke very little. To this day, I still do not know his name.
I spent a week in his simple cottage, in the cliffs above the beach. He lived alone. Food was simple, mostly stews made from fish, tomatoes, and olives plucked from his garden. I slept on a pallet made from straw. It was a far cry from the luxuries I had grown up with in the palace of King Minos. Surprisingly, I didn’t mind it at all. I had recently adjusted to living rough during my banishment from the palace and my current situation didn’t seem terrible by comparison.
Eventually, he declared the boat ready to face the challenges of the sea.
We set off. The old man had supplied me with kilt. It was in serious disrepair, but it was better than the loincloth I had been wearing. I helped where I could on board the small boat and learnt a thing or two about navigation, knots, and sails. Not enough to make me a sailor by any stretch of the imagination, but it was better than nothing.
We were at sea for two days and a night. I had hoped that he would take me directly to the mainland, but we only got as far as the next major island.
And that was how I passed the next few weeks. I kept out of major population centers for fear of being recognized. By now, Minos must have realized that I’d left the island. I wasn’t sure how far he would take his revenge, but I wasn’t about to chance it. He had possibly sent out ships to search nearby islands. My helm was easily recognizable, but I could hardly take it off either.
Smaller fishing villages had everything I needed. Most residents looked upon me with fear, but once they saw how useful I was, they put me to work. I paid for my passage with odd jobs, mostly involving the use of my great strength. Many asked why I never took off my helm, and I answered that it was part of a vow. Oddly, it seemed to satisfy most of them. I have learnt over time that it’s best to keep lies simple.
I island hopped. I didn’t know why I was so focused on reaching the mainland. Perhaps because of the stories I’d heard about Heracles. I wanted to win fame and fortune for myself, make myself untouchable to Minos. And also, of course, to be worthy of marrying Phaedra. Not that she cared about such things, but I did. My hopes were pinned to mainland Greece. I didn’t know exactly what I would do once I was there, but I was confident I’d figure something out. I had a vague notion that I would kill monsters. Be a hero. Something like that.
I finally reached the mainland three weeks later. The small fishing boat dropped me at the port of Troezen, the capital of the small territory of Troezenia on the Peloponnese peninsula. I had hoped to be taken directly to Athens, the largest city in mainland Greece in those days, but it was well out of the fisherman’s way. I counted myself lucky that I had made it as far as I had. I thanked the fisherman and considered my options.
Troezen was about twenty leagues southwest of Athens as the crow flew, on the opposite side of the Saronic Gulf. On foot, it was at least three times that distance. I could possibly manage ten leagues at day, so I was looking at a journey of around a week.
I was hungry and thirsty. The only thing I’d had to eat in the last day was a bit of raw fish and some figs given to me by the fisherman on the last leg of my journey. I wandered about the city, marveling at the sights and sounds. Even though I had been brought up in a palace, my experience with cities was rather limited. Most villages on Crete were tiny by comparison.
Troezen was a proper city, with stone walls and cobblestoned paths. It was filled with small groves of trees, providing shelter and places to sit. The people were dressed differently from what I was accustomed to. Men preferred tunics rather than kilts or loincloths. The style of dress for women was more conservative as well. On Crete, women’s dresses were such that one breast was often exposed. Not so in Troezen.
I attracted curious stares wherever I went. Some stared openly at me. I suppose I couldn’t blame them. My kilt for one, cut as it was in the Cretan style, marked me as a stranger. Even without the helm, a man of my stature was a rare sight.
I found a fountain and drank deeply, satisfying my thirst. My belly still rumbled with hunger. For lack of other options, I followed the main path through the city. It led me uphill toward the acropolis. Eventually I reached a temple. I entered without challenge and found myself in a colonnaded court surrounded by rooms. The court led to a hall with several stone benches. I gathered from the people waiting that the temple was dedicated to Asklipion, the god of healing. Many of those milling inside bore signs of illness.
I took a seat for lack of anything better to do. It was pleasant just to sit out of the sun for a while and rest my weary legs.
Eventually, a priest approached.
“How can I help you?” he asked, not unkindly. He looked me up and down, searching for obvious signs of illness or disease. “You do not appear unwell. Actually, you look healthier and stronger than most.”
I stood and the priest took a nervous step backward as I towered above him.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I was just resting. I am hungry though, but I have no money.”
The priest looked from one side to the other before beckoning me close. “I normally don’t do this,” he said in a conspiratorial whisper, “but stay here and I’ll bring you something. A big young warrior like yourself shouldn’t go hungry.”
I returned to my seat. Soon enough, the priest returned. He shoved half a loaf of bread at me. “Here, take this with my blessing.”
I thanked him profusely, promising that I would make a donation to the temple when I could. He smiled. “You look the sort who will accomplish great deeds. Do so, and that will be compensation enough.”
I thanked him again and departed, shoveling great chunks of bread into my mouth. So far, my impressions of Greece had been good. The sun was shining, my belly was full, and there was adventure before me. What more did a young man need?
I continued to amble around the acropolis. I came to a practice yard. It was empty save for one youth exercising on the packed earth.
I sat down and watched. The youth—I guessed to be about the same age as I—appeared to be a little over average height with a slim athletic build and grace that matched that of Androgeus. His long black hair was oiled and tied behind his neck by a simple leather thong. He was stripped to the waist, and his lean muscles gleamed in the early morning sun.
He must’ve noticed my stare because he suddenly stood before me.
“Would you like to train with me?” he asked. I stood and he gave no indication of being intimidated by my size or my horned helm. The expression on his face seemed to indicate approval. I looked him in the eye. He was an extremely good-looking man. Almost beautiful, with fine features and clear, smooth skin. I felt suddenly conscious of my own plain looks. Unlike me, he must’ve made the girls swoon.
He held out his hand. “My name is Theseus. Yours?”
“Asterion,” I said, grasping his wrist in the traditional warriors greeting.
“You aren’t from around here, are you?”
“No,” I said. If he was hoping for more information, he was destined to be disappointed.
“Ah. A man of few words. I like that. Shall we wrestle?”
I nodded. Now that my hunger had been satisfied, I felt the need for some physical exercise. Other than manual labor, I hadn’t had a chance to train for weeks.
He eyed my helm with interest. “Are you going to take that off first?”
“No,” I said again. “I have vowed not to.”
Theseus made a wry face but shrugged in acceptance. “Fair enough. Try not to gore me with those things.”
We wrestled. It soon became apparent that I was stronger than Theseus. I had yet to learn that no mortal could match my strength. But then again, Theseus wasn’t exactly mortal either.
He was, however, much more nimble than I. His movements once again reminded me of Androgeus. Where I used brute strength, his much lighter weight forced him to rely on fancy footwork, trick holds, and using his opponent’s momentum against him.
We were almost evenly matched. Eventually, more by good luck than anything else, I got a lock on him that was impossible to break. He yielded with poor grace and seemed rather angry about it.
We lay in the dirt, panting from the exertion.
“By
Zeus’s balls, you are strong,” he grudgingly admitted at last, regaining his breath. “I have never encountered anyone as strong as you. Nor as large.”
I nodded. “You almost had me there.”
Theseus shook his head, his anger fading as soon as it had appeared. “I don’t think so. I think you were toying with me. I’d love to match swords with you, though. Then we’d see who has the advantage.”
I shook my head. “Perhaps another time. I have to go.”
“Where to?” he inquired.
“Athens.” I saw no point in lying to him. He seemed an honest enough man.
Theseus smiled broadly. “It seems as if the gods have brought us together. Our goals are the same. I was about to set off to that city myself. Perhaps we can share the road together?”
I hesitated for a moment. I hadn’t planned on company. What harm would it do though? It would be nice to share my journey with a fellow warrior. Conversation would be welcome too. Not that I have anything against fishermen but I was weary of listening to lectures on fish, the weather, and knots.
“I accept,” I said finally.
“Well, it’s agreed then,” he said smiling and jumping to his feet. He extended a hand, helping me rise. “One moment.”
He darted to the side of the practice yard and came back moments later armed with a sword, spear, and shield. A satchel was slung over his shoulder.
“Do you need time to collect your things?” he asked.
“I have everything I need,” I said. It wasn’t true of course. The truth was that other than my helm and the kilt I wore, I had no other possessions in the world. I’d even lost my sandals during my long immersion in the ocean. But I didn’t want to appear weak and needy in front of Theseus. I had my pride.
We set off, taking the road north out of the city. In those days, the roads were not like they are now under Roman rule. They were mostly dirt, sometimes overgrown, often impassable due to erosion or occasional flooding. Not only that, they were dangerous. Certainly, there were wild animals to contend with and even the occasional monster, but it was our fellow humans we had to be wary of.
Minotaur Page 10
