Minotaur

by Phillip W. Simpson

The Captain escorted us personally to the barracks of the city guard. True to his word, everything was as he said. Theseus stayed up late into the night, regaling a large group of guards with our adventures. They hung on his every word. I crept away as soon as I could and retired gratefully to my bed.

  As I drifted off to sleep, I wondered why Theseus hadn’t yet revealed his true identity. Perhaps he wanted his deeds to speak for themselves so the King would deem him worthy? I hadn’t had a chance to ask him.

  We arose late. Theseus seemed a little worse for wear from overindulgence. We breakfasted with the Captain and several of his men and then decided to look around the city. Theseus and I had never seen Athens before and were eager to explore.

  Even in those days, Athens was a city to rival any other in the world in terms of size, grandeur, and beauty. It was the greatest city in Greece.

  It was filled with grand buildings, statues, plazas, gardens, and markets positively teeming with people. I could see why Athens had a greater reputation than even Sparta or Corinth. Neither of us had seen so many people in one place before. I was a little overwhelmed, but Theseus took it in his stride.

  News of our arrival must have spread. Everywhere we went, people stopped to stare and whisper, marveling at our appearance. We were a striking, unmistakable pair. People thanked us for our deeds, concentrating most of their attention on Theseus.

  Purchasing our lunch from one of the many markets, we sat down in a public garden to eat.

  “Why didn’t you tell the guards who you really were?” I asked Theseus.

  “It’s a little complicated,” he replied. “My mother told me everything before I left Troezen. My father has a new wife, Queen Medea. But before she became his wife, she was something altogether different. She was a witch and in all likelihood, is still one today.”

  A witch? I had heard rumors of women with magical powers. On Crete, there were several women known to be able to perform miracles, but I had never witnessed them myself.

  “So why the secrecy?” I asked

  “My father, so it is told, despaired of ever having an heir. He enlisted the help of Medea and her powers to aid him. He picked my mother, Princess Aethra, and seduced her, leaving his sandals and his sword for me when the time was right. I believe that Medea kept word of my existence from him. My mother sent several messages to Athens informing the King of my birth but never received a response. I believe he is still ignorant that I live.”

  “So why not just tell him?

  “Because Medea now has her own son fathered by Aegeas. Without me, their baby son is the heir. I doubt whether Medea will be very pleased to see me. From what I’ve heard, Jason abandoned her during his quest for the Golden Fleece. She will not risk being abandoned again. If she knew I was in the city, I suspect she would make my life difficult and all but impossible to see the King. I’ll have to find an opportunity to reveal my identity, proving it with the sandals and the sword.”

  I nodded slowly. If I had hoped for a few days of peace, I was mistaken. But how to get access to the King?

  Fortunately for us, the King gave us such an opportunity. Even he was interested in heroes who could accomplish such feats as we had.

  When we returned to the barracks sometime in the afternoon, a messenger from the palace was waiting for us.

  “It would please King Aegeus and Queen Medea if the hero Theseus and his companion would join them for a banquet tonight.” The messenger waited patiently for a response.

  “Companion” indeed. I bristled a little but remained silent.

  “Tell King Aegeus and Queen Medea that Theseus and Asterion accept gratefully.” The messenger departed.

  We prepared carefully. When I say we, I really mean Theseus. I was just his

  “companion.” He groomed himself so thoroughly his hair and skin seemed to glow from within. He wore his new tunic and tucked his father’s sword into his belt so it was displayed prominently. On his feet were his father’s sandals.

  I did what I could to look impressive, also wearing my new tunic that wasn’t nearly as grand as Theseus’s. I wore my helm of course and completed my preparations by hefting my bronze encased club over my shoulder.

  Dusk fell. Thus prepared, we set off to the palace, escorted by the Captain and several of his men. Theseus seemed confident all would go to plan and smiled easily, chatting as we walked.

  We arrived at the palace and with due pomp and ceremony were ushered into the presence of the King and Queen, who were already seated in the feasting hall.

  King Aegeus was a large, handsome man in his late years with a square cut, well-trimmed beard, mostly gray but speckled here and there with black. He welcomed us with a shining smile that was so similar to Theseus’s I had no doubt that he was indeed his father. Medea was an altogether different story. Younger than Aegeus by a decade and with a cold, hard beauty like that of a diamond, her smile was so forced that I had to look away for fear of breaking into laughter.

  Luckily, she spared me only a glance, her attention riveted by Theseus. Her calculating assessment made me realize that without a doubt, she already knew who he was.

  I saw her whisper something in the King’s ear. His expression darkened. I learnt later from Theseus that she was indeed aware that Theseus was the King’s rightful heir and had attempted to poison the King against him. Playing on the King’s insecurity, she warned that Theseus was already popular amongst the people due to his heroic deeds. With such popularity, Theseus could easily seize the throne for himself.

  “Come, noble heroes,” said the King. “Sit. Eat, drink, and tell us tales of your adventures.” We were seated in a place of honor, only a few places down from the King and Queen themselves. Theseus started regaling the King and Queen of our exploits. He had a captive audience. Nearby, other guests leaned in to better hear of our deeds. As I’ve mentioned before, Theseus was a good storyteller. If my memory serves correctly, I believe Theseus was regaling them about Sinis and his bandits at the time.

  “And once I had finished off Sinis’s crotch sniffing followers, I made my way back toward the clearing,” said Theseus, his eyes shining, grin so broad his perfect white teeth threatened to blind his audience. All eyes and ears were upon him now, eager to hear more bloodthirsty exploits.

  “Yes … ?” asked King Aegeus, leaning forward no less eagerly than any of the other listeners.

  For my part, I was hardly paying attention to Theseus. I’d heard the story before. Instead, I was watching Queen Medea. Something about her posture was wrong. Unlike everyone else in the room, she wasn’t watching Theseus, her intense gaze locked instead on the object resting near Theseus’s elbow. It was a wine goblet.

  “And then,” said Theseus, springing to his feet, “I saw the bandit leader Sinis atop my dear friend Asterion, clearly strangling the life out of him.” A few of the listeners moved their eyes toward me for a moment and then, finding nothing of interest, returned their attention back to Theseus.

  “With spear in hand I crept toward the huge and dreadful bandit leader. Asterion was all but dead by then. I knew I couldn’t delay. I took my spear and thrust it through Sinis’s heart.” As Theseus said these words, he drew his sword for dramatic effect and stabbed it toward his enraptured audience. Almost unnoticed, the action of his arm knocked the nearby wine goblet from the table.

  Still watching her closely, I couldn’t fail to notice the look of horrified disappointment on the face of Queen Medea as the goblet tumbled to the floor, splashing its crimson contents all over the tiles, almost as if Theseus’s sword thrust had actually drawn real blood.

  It was all very contrived, of course. Theseus had always planned to draw his sword in order for his true father to get a good look at it.

  Aegeus registered surprise and shock, immediately recognizing the pattern on the sword hilt. Medea’s eyes narrowed with hatred.

  Aegeus leapt to his feet. “That’s my sword!” he exclaimed. “Is it true
then? Are you my son? Is your mother Aethra?”

  “Yes,” said Theseus, smiling as brightly as the sun. “I am your son. You left this sword for me under a massive rock. These are the sandals that were once yours,” he said, pointing at his feet.

  It looked like Aegeus was about to cry. He embraced his long lost son. The two of them hugged and cried together, unwittingly splashing about in the puddle created by Theseus’s spilled wine, destroying Medea’s dreams with their clumsy feet. Whether it was poisoned or not, only the gods now know. I suspect it was because I saw a dog lapping at the puddle of wine later that night. That same dog I later found dead in the palace gardens.

  Aegeus, wiping the tears from his face, disentangled himself from his newly acquired son. He turned to face his wife.

  “Medea,” he said, his eyes shining with wondrous hope and love for his wife. “Medea, isn’t this magnificent news? Now I have not one, but two sons. Has a man ever been so blessed by the gods as I?”

  A strange thing happened then. The whole feasting chamber, one that was usually filled with raucous laughter and sounds of merriment, suddenly went eerily silent. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath, waiting to hear Medea’s response to the news of Aegeas’s new addition to his family.

  “And you expect me to stand placidly like a cow lead to slaughter while you replace my son with this … boy here,” she spat, gesturing furiously toward Theseus. Her eyes had narrowed with pure hatred, and I half expected lightning to shoot from them and strike Theseus and Aegeas down.

  “No, it’s not like that,” pleaded Aegeas, moving toward her, holding a hand out in an attempt to placate her. “Our son will always have a place of great honor at my table. He will never be overlooked. But can’t you see that Theseus is also my son? My eldest son and heir?”

  Medea drew herself up straight and adopted a haughty expression, her anger now colder and more desolate than the bleakest of winter winds. “To Tartarus with you both, then,” she said. “May the crows feast on your eyes.”

  Hardly an original insult, but the words had the desired effect. King Aegeas staggered as if he had been struck. Theseus rushed to his side and supported him as Medea suddenly spun around and swept from the chamber.

  I later learnt that Medea did indeed choose to flee Athens, taking her young son with her. I’m still confounded by her actions. Presumably, it was only her that was privy to the knowledge of the poisoned goblet. There was absolutely no evidence to corroborate her crime. Regardless of whether her own son became King or not, she could have lived a long and happy life in the palace. Theseus later confided to me that King Aegeus did love her and missed her, as confused as I about her departure.

  As for the stories passed down over time—I still chuckle when I hear them. She didn’t just flee; she fled in a chariot pulled by dragons. Apparently. Now, I have seen many strange things in my time. I have experienced more than any mortal. This is no exaggeration; this is fact. I am more than a thousand years old now. Some of the creatures I have seen or fought no longer exist, their memories sustained only by legend. But I will tell you one thing—I have never seen a dragon. There certainly weren’t any in the palace of King Aegeus.

  I’m not so arrogant to suggest that dragons don’t or have never existed. I could be wrong. Medea was a witch after all. Perhaps she summoned them from a part of Tartarus I have never seen?

  Not that it matters. Medea fled into the night, and King Aegeus was reunited with his son and true heir.

  Over the next two weeks, Athens was filled with rejoicing and feasting on a scale never seen before. Athens had a new prince. And not just any prince either. A true hero. One that had almost single-handedly killed thousands of bandits, several monsters, and possibly a titan or two. His actions rivaled that of the gods. The tales seemed to have a life of their own, growing daily. I was hardly mentioned.

  If I was honest with myself, it did bother me slightly. How was I ever going to build a reputation so I could rescue Phaedra and possibly confront Minos? I had enough wealth, certainly, but I needed a heroic profile sufficient to make me untouchable by Minos. If I was consistently left out of stories or relegated to a minor role, this wasn’t going to happen.

  I had a chance to brood about it during those two weeks. I was largely left to my own devices. Theseus spent most of his time becoming acquainted with his father. I was invited to all the banquets of course, but almost ignored by others falling over me in their haste to get to Theseus. Most of them wouldn’t have pissed on me if I was on fire. I realize now that if Theseus hadn’t been so handsome and charming, things might have gone differently. I was impressive enough in terms of stature. My helmet was certainly a talking point. It’s just that I didn’t have the charm or charisma Theseus possessed. Did I resent him for it? Possibly. For a time at least. Even though I was in love with Phaedra and would never have betrayed her, it was hard for me to watch beautiful young maidens fall all over Theseus without a single glance in my direction.

  I felt depressed. I was lonely. I missed Phaedra and Androgeus. Part of me even wanted to go home, to Crete, to my family, regardless of whether Minos lived or not. A traitorous part of my mind tried to convince me with imagined promises of forgiveness from Minos. That he might even embrace me as his adopted son. In saner moments, I realized that was pure folly, but I confess, I was tempted.

  The boredom eventually got to me, and despite my earlier protestations that I wanted to live a quiet life for a while, I realized that excitement and adventure were now a part of me. It was in my blood.

  I spent the next few months travelling into the wild lands around Athens. I defeated several bandits and even a couple of monsters. Sadly, unlike the stories of Theseus, my feats went largely unnoticed, probably because I spared many of my enemies, preferring to bring them back to Athens to face trial. This, I suspected, made me appear weak in front of the Athenians. Ironically, many of the bandits I captured were later sentenced to death.

  Theseus joined me on a few adventures when he wasn’t otherwise occupied. Unlike my exploits, everything he did was recorded. There’s no need to go into them in great detail here, as you’ve probably heard them before. For a change, there was no great embellishment, only my name was not mentioned. Suffice to say that Theseus beat a hero known as Cercyon at wrestling. Together we defeated a giant boar the size of an ox with eyes like coals of fire. I suspect it came from Hades. Theseus killed both Cercyon and the giant boar without mercy.

  We travelled to Marathon and captured a bull to rival any other I had previously seen. That was a challenge, but working together, we were successful.

  Our bond grew. I had come to accept Theseus for who he was, and he respected me for it. I grew to care for him. It wasn’t like the love I felt for my brother, Androgeus, but I did love him in a way.

  We faced our greatest challenge when some of Aegeus’s nephews, known as the Pallantides, decided to do away with Theseus and myself. They were jealous of Theseus’s status amongst the people and wanted one of their own to sit on the throne after Aegeus.

  Accordingly, they tried to assassinate him. As his closest companion, I too had to die. They ambushed us one night. We were outnumbered almost ten to one, but our father, Poseidon, must have been watching over us. Not only that, but our adventures in the wild lands outside Athens had taught us well. We were experienced warriors now, not the soft pampered palace boys we had once been. The men we fought were much like ourselves months earlier. And they were not demi-gods.

  We slew many of them, and the others fled Athens, never to return.

  Killing hadn’t come easier to me—it’s just that I had come to the realization that it was necessary at times. Even though I still thought about the men I had killed, my dreams were not as troubled as they’d once been.

  Theseus, always proud, became more so. He seemed to think he was invincible and became slightly arrogant with the knowledge. It didn’t help that he was often surrounded by sycophants who
worshipped him, hanging on his every word. I tried to keep him grounded, but as I had learnt by now, Theseus was not the easiest man to change. He was still fiercely loyal though. Friendship for Theseus was also about equality. I had saved his life more than once. He owed me and would never forget the debt.

  Before I knew it, the time of the Panathenaic games had come once more. It had been four years since the last one. Soon, athletes and heroes from all across Greece and the islands of the Aegean would be making their way toward Athens.

  I couldn’t wait. My brother, Androgeus, would be among them. I counted down the days to his arrival.

  Ω

  I watched the ships glide into the harbor at Piraeus, their sails filled with the strong breeze blowing into the Saronic Gulf, their swift pace aided by the single layer of rowers toiling away. There were six of them, all marked with the bull’s head of Crete. I felt a strong mix of emotions seeing them again. Nostalgia, sadness, and, I confess, quite a bit of excitement. The ships carried my brother Androgeus.

  Minos was making a statement. He hadn’t needed to send six ships when one would have sufficed. He was letting Athens know how strong Crete was; that they were a power to be feared.

  In those days, Crete still had a larger fleet than any other city in Greece, including Athens. Not only that but Minos, insecure in his rule, had spent large sums from the palace treasury building up his armed forces.

  “Are you nervous, brother?” asked Theseus at my side. We stood on the cliff top directly above the harbor that served Athens. It reminded me of the time when Theseus and I had stood looking out across the Saronic Gulf. Before Theseus had become Prince of Athens. When life was far simpler.

  “A little,” I confessed. “My brother is on one of those ships. I have not seen him in many months.”

  “What about King Minos?” he asked.

  “I’ll face him when the time comes,” I said, my face hardening.

  “I understand your reasons,” said Theseus, referring to my flight from Crete. “You are a wanted man.” He placed one hand reassuringly on my shoulder. “I probably would’ve done the same thing in your position.”