Minotaur

by Phillip W. Simpson

  Theseus did what he believed to be right. He was a stubborn and pride filled man. He believed he had saved me. We were even. Without doubt, the fact that I never thanked him rankled. I suppose he was left a little hurt and confused, but we never got to discuss it until much later.

  Theseus went around and finished off the two injured bandits dispassionately. I don’t think I could’ve stopped him if I tried. He seemed a little bit possessed, and I doubted whether I had the strength to resist him.

  We had much to do after Sinis was disposed of. I untied the prisoners and made them as comfortable as I could. Other than the father, one of the men was already dead. I left them to mourn their brother and father while I bound my wound with strips torn from dead men’s clothes.

  Theseus retraced our steps, intending to find the women, children, and old man we had met on the path. By the time he returned, I had gotten rid of the dead bodies and cleaned up the campsite as best I could. I was thoroughly exhausted, but my strength was returning quickly thanks to the ample supply of food and water I found in the camp. I shared it with the survivors—the daughter, who was in her early twenties, and her surviving brother, who was probably only a few years younger. Both continued to weep for their dead.

  Although clearly distraught by her loss, the mother thanked us profusely, promising to sing the praises of Theseus. She made no mention of my contribution. We loaded them up with as much food and water as they could carry, as well as a purse of coins we found on the body of one of the bandits.

  After they left, Theseus and I sat in silence, both lost in our own thoughts.

  He’d been injured. He had a few sword cuts to his legs but they were relatively minor. Once again, I had fared worse than him. My injury wasn’t life threatening, but it would take time to heal. Theseus washed and cleaned his wounds and then bound them with strips torn from the clothes of the bandits. He washed the worst of the blood off his face. It seemed it wasn’t his.

  “What happened out there?” I asked at last. I didn’t need to explain. Theseus knew exactly what I was asking.

  “I killed them,” he said. The crazed look in his eyes had been replaced with something colder.

  “What, all three of them?” I said, shocked.

  Theseus nodded. “Yes. All three of them. They chased me around the trees. I separated them and took them one at a time.”

  “And … and how do you feel about that?” I ventured.

  “Satisfied,” he said, looking me square in the eye, challenging me. “They were fatherless sons of whores.”

  Theseus was always made of sterner stuff than me. The death of Periphetes, the first man I’d ever killed, still haunted me. Theseus appeared unconcerned that he had killed all six bandits.

  “Remember, they deserved it,” said Theseus. “Think what they did to that woman’s husband. Given the chance, they would’ve done the same to us, and raped and killed the woman. Don’t you think the world is better off without them?”

  I nodded slowly, knowing the truth when I heard it. “What about Sinis? Did he deserve to die the way he did? You could’ve just put him to the sword.”

  If Theseus was confused by me naming the bandit leader, he didn’t show it. “I could’ve, but I chose not to. I think it was fitting that he died the same way as those he killed. Don’t you?”

  I frowned, not knowing what to say. Theseus didn’t press me for an answer.

  “We are even now,” he said. “A life for a life. I saved your life just as you saved mine. But we are brothers now too, bonded by the blood we have spilt together.”

  We spent the next hour preparing for the next leg of our journey. We were well supplied now thanks to the bandits. Not only that, but we had several coin purses that would come in handy when we reached Ismthmia.

  We distributed our supplies evenly. Although I found it distasteful, I tried on several pairs of sandals. I left Sinis’s for last, reluctant to go near the scattered remains of his corpse. As I suspected, his sandals fit me perfectly.

  Thus prepared, we set off. The next two days passed uneventfully. We took our time, now that water wasn’t an issue. Theseus and I spoke little at first but he attempted to break the mood with more stories. It worked to some degree, and by the time we reached Ismthmia, we had regained a certain level of camaraderie.

  Now, after the passage of many years, I remember those days we spent together fondly. At first, we weren’t exactly the best of friends, but we were comrades, united in our goal to reach Athens. The events that occurred in that place ensured that we would forever be tied together by fate. Over time, our bond grew and he became my friend. Perhaps my only true friend. A bloodthirsty one at that, but I wasn’t exactly in a position to be picky. It’s not like I had a queue of friends waiting to take his place. We were never enemies like other poets and scholars would have you believe.

  My relationship with Theseus was, for lack of a better word, complicated.

  Ω

  Ismthmia was a city no larger than Troezen and in some respects, inferior. Its gardens were overgrown in parts, largely untended. Some of the buildings were in a state of disrepair.

  Like Troezen, it had a stone wall to protect itself from bandits and other rival city states. Its market was a rich, vibrant place filled with the cries of vendors trying to sell all manner of goods including fruit and vegetables, wine, freshly baked bread, clothes, and weapons. With the money we had obtained from the bandits, we succumbed and stocked up on supplies.

  With my share, I purchased a new tunic and sandals. My kilt marked me as a foreigner, which brought me even more unwelcome attention than my size or bull’s helm. Wearing dead man’s sandals had always sat badly with me. I was relieved to see the last of them. I threw them in the ocean and watched them float away on the lazy swells.

  Theseus also bought some new clothing: a richly emblazoned tunic and a belt sewn with gold thread. He planned to arrive in Athens in triumph and wanted to make a good impression with his father, the King.

  Word of our exploits, or more specifically, Theseus’s exploits, had somehow already reached Ismthmia. Presumably, some of the survivors of Periphetes’s band had spread word about us, as had the woman whose family we had saved. I’m not sure how the news got to Ismthmia so quickly. Perhaps by ship or passed onto those travelling faster than us on horseback or donkey.

  I was unmistakable of course. Theseus for his part was marked by his confident bearing and godlike handsomeness. Some vendors even offered to give us free produce for ridding the land around Ismthmia of bandits. We could’ve easily stayed in the city for a week or longer. We had several invitations to stay in wealthy citizen’s homes, the implication being that our food and lodging would be free, paid for by tales of our exploits. I suspect some of the attraction was to keep heroes in the city to deter attacks, but I think that many just wanted to be in Theseus’s presence, to bask in his handsomeness. Theseus could also be incredibly charming when he wanted to be.

  We ended up staying for two days, attending dinner parties where Theseus related our adventures to universal applause, praise, and admiration. I said little, uncomfortable with the attention.

  I know Theseus’s exploits have been sung about and retold many times over the years. Some of those stories are about his adventures before he reached Athens. None of those stories in the decades and centuries that followed mention me. Theseus, to his credit, did relate our adventures with a certain level of truth, although he was prone to exaggeration and embellishment. I guess other storytellers and poets believed that the stories sounded better with just Theseus in them. For many years, I featured in them, but over time, as Athens became the most powerful city in Greece, my contribution was conveniently forgotten. I was not, after all, Athenian. I wasn’t even Greek.

  I didn’t resent it at the time because I—or my appearance at least—was part of the tales. I think I would’ve felt a little aggrieved if I hadn’t been mentioned at all. Although I was not va
inglorious like Theseus, I was in Greece to increase my status. That and to avoid the wrath of Minos.

  Theseus turned down several more invitations. He was eager and impatient to reach Athens and to claim his title as Prince of that great city. I, on the other hand, wasn’t in such a rush. Ismthmia, I realized, was a place where I could build my reputation and wealth, enough that I would be able to claim Phaedra as my bride.

  Theseus insisted we move on however. I had promised to accompany him to Athens, and I wasn’t about to break my word. I have broken many things in my time but never my word.

  It was another fifteen leagues to Athens from Ismthmia. Perhaps another five or six days. Theseus and I had been rather ignorant when we set off, thinking we could get from Troezen to Athens in the same amount of time it had taken us to travel to Ismthmia.

  We were slowly becoming more proficient travelers though and more realistic in our expectations. We set off again, our heads held high, ready to embrace our destiny.

  Ω

  The road to Athens was much busier with traffic than the earlier part of our journey. Many travelers were headed to that place, largely comprised of traders seeking to make their fortunes. We encountered several families on the road, but there were others like us too—adventurers, heroes. We swapped stories with many we met, ensuring that our fame spread. We passed through the cities of Megara and Eleusis only long enough to replenish our supplies.

  There seemed to be fewer bandits on the road, primarily because travelers were not so isolated. As a result, we didn’t encounter trouble until we were only a few leagues from Athens.

  The path branched at that point. The main route headed further inland. It was a safer, wider route used by most travelers. Theseus, however, had a strong desire to see the ocean. He’d often been told stories of this coast from his mother and wanted to see it for himself. So we took the smaller route that led to the coast.

  By this point, we were dusty, tired, and footsore. Our tunics were soaked through with sweat. After walking for an hour, we came to a cliff top with a majestic view of the Saronic Gulf. The island of Salamis loomed massively nearby. Further in the distance was another island—Aegina. I knew that many leagues past that was Theseus’s home city of Troezen, almost directly across the gulf.

  We stood side-by-side, gazing out at the white-topped waves whipped up by the strong wind threatening to blow us off the cliff. The wind was not unpleasant, drying the sweat from our bodies.

  After standing there for several minutes in silence, I thought of where we’d come from. A thought occurred to me.

  “Wouldn’t it have been easier to take a ship?” I asked. “I mean from Troezen to somewhere along this coast. It would’ve been a lot quicker too.”

  Theseus smiled. “That’s exactly what my mother said. She warned me the road was too dangerous, but I wouldn’t listen. I knew I had to take the road. To make a name for myself so my father will be forced to recognize me. My mother didn’t understand.”

  “I see,” I said. And I did. Knowing Theseus as I did by now, I knew how his mind worked. It would not have done for him to arrive in Athens as an unknown boy. He wanted to make an entrance. I confess, so did I—I just wasn’t as driven as he.

  “Not everyone thinks as heroes do, Asterion. You and I are the same. We are both heroes. And heroes find their own path in life. We do not always do what others tell us to do.”

  “We do when it means our exploits will be sung about,” I said wryly.

  Theseus missed the tone in my voice. “And isn’t that what it’s all about?” he said happily, clapping me on the back. I almost toppled off the cliff and hurriedly steadied myself.

  “Come,” he said at last. “Athens awaits.”

  As we walked along the cliff, we encountered a strange sight. A large bronze tub sat on the edge of the cliff. It was curious to see such a thing in a location like this. Wary, but with our interest piqued, Theseus and I decided to investigate.

  As we got closer, we realized we weren’t alone. A man sat beneath a nearby cypress tree, peeling an apple with a knife. He set them down and stood, smiling at us invitingly. A few paces from him was a fire with a large pot bubbling merrily away.

  “Greetings, friends! You must be wary from your travels. Please, feel free to use my tub to wash the dust of the road from your bodies. The water is fresh and warm.”

  We exchanged names. His was Sciron. Despite my initial mistrust, he seemed like a decent sort of man. I liked him immediately.

  “Why do you offer this service?” asked Theseus warily. “What is the price?”

  Sciron inclined his head and spread his arms warmly. “No charge. I do this as a service to my fellow man. I was once a trader and accumulated great wealth. Now, I attempt to give something back.”

  Theseus considered this. I could tell he didn’t trust Sciron like I did, but it would’ve been rude to refuse such hospitality. Besides, after a tiring few days on the road, a soothing bath was a welcome invitation. It was hard to resist.

  “I’ll go first,” I offered eagerly.

  Sciron smiled at me warmly. “Please, young warrior. In the interests of privacy, go behind the cloth, disrobe, and then you will be free to use my bath.” He indicated a large blanket that was hanging between the branches of two trees. I stepped behind it and stripped, keeping my helmet on for obvious reasons. It was doubtful whether Sciron would be keen to offer the same hospitality once he saw my horns. I emerged moments later and stepped gratefully in the tub. It was as Sciron promised: warm and fresh.

  I relaxed in it for as long as I could while Sciron chatted idly to us both. Sciron disappeared a couple of times, excusing himself by saying he had to fetch fresh essences for the water. He was gone for quite a while, but his absence went unremarked.

  I got out, and Sciron handed me a towel while Theseus went to disrobe. Sciron retrieved the pot from the fire, using it to fill the tub with fresh hot water.

  Theseus returned and plunged into the bath while I retreated behind the makeshift barrier to get changed. I had an unpleasant surprise. My clothes and all my equipment, including my club, were gone. I thought that perhaps Sciron had been exceptionally kind and had decided to wash my clothes, but why hadn’t he asked? I suspected something wasn’t right.

  My suspicions were confirmed by a scream. I pushed aside the barrier, prepared for a fight even though I was naked and unarmed.

  I was initially confused by what I saw. Theseus stood on the cliff face, naked as I, his back toward me, looking at something below. There was no sign of the bronze tub. Or Sciron for that matter.

  “What happened?” I asked, darting my eyes about hurriedly, searching for danger. “Where’s Sciron?”

  Theseus turned to face me. “I knew this was too good to be true. As soon as I hopped into the tub, Sciron attempted to tip me over the cliff.”

  “What did you do?” I forced the words out of a suddenly dry mouth, already knowing the answer.

  “I did to him what he planned to do to me,” he said, watching me carefully for my reaction. “I sent him to Tartarus.”

  A surge of anger washed over me. At that point, I was heartily sick of Theseus. Sick of him killing people seemingly on an idle whim. I seized him by the throat and lifted him off the ground.

  “You didn’t have to do that, Theseus,” I raged. “You don’t always have to kill.”

  Theseus grabbed my hands but made no other effort to free himself. “Stop, Asterion,” he gurgled. “Look over the cliff. See the truth.”

  I frowned and shook my head, thinking I hadn’t heard properly. Still clutching Theseus by the neck, I approached the edge of the cliff and looked down.

  There was a huge creature far below us with a mottled green shell. It appeared to be a giant turtle, a monster from an earlier age, more massive than any beast I had ever seen, its enormous bulk crouching atop a cluster of rocks above the reach of the thrashing waves. It was surrounded by clusters o
f white, which looked like branches of trees whitewashed by the sea. It was also feeding on something. I realized it was Sciron.

  With hands suddenly gone numb with shock, I released Theseus. He dropped to his knees, grasping his throat and breathing hoarsely. Eventually, he recovered his composure and stood to face me.

  “I’ve said it before, but it seems you are hard of hearing,” Theseus replied coldly. His eyes blazed. “Those who seek to harm me will get what they deserve. Sciron tried to kill me. I just turned the tables on him.”

  I closed my eyes and clenched my fists for fear that I would hurt him again. With an effort, I restrained myself.

  “Before you judge me, brother, look more closely at what lies below.”

  Despite my anger and frustration, I did what he asked. On closer inspection, the pile of white objects that I initially took for tree branches were actually bones. Human bones.

  My rage started to leak out of me.

  “It would seem that Sciron has been at his game for some time,” said Theseus. “That son of a goat lured weary travelers here, threw them to the turtle below and kept their belongings.”

  It was true. Undeniably true. I still couldn’t help but feel angry at Theseus. Once again, he’d solved a problem with violence, without remorse, almost like he relished it.

  I took a deep breath, letting the anger pass.

  Theseus looked me up and down and smiled. “Now, I think we’d better find our clothes before another traveler comes this way.”

  Ω

  I was forced to concede that killing off the bandits that inhabited Greece at that time was making us rich. Sciron had accumulated quite a pile of treasure that he’d taken from unsuspecting travelers. As well as a sack of coins, there were bracelets and necklaces set with precious gems, weapons, armor, and a pile of clothing large enough to fill a decent sized room. It was quite sobering and a little disturbing to think that these items had once belonged to those whose bones decorated the rock island inhabited by the giant turtle. We filled our pouches and sacks with as much as we could easily carry—enough to make us both extremely wealthy—and buried the rest.