“Just a rat,” said one of them disgustedly. “A fat one too.”
He bent down and grasped a squealing black shape in one hand.
Even in the uncertain flickering light, I recognized the rat immediately. Only one rat I had encountered in the maze was that fat. Only one rat I had seen had a coat that glistened with good health.
It was Glaucus.
My heart skipped a beat. I felt fear. Fear for my friend. I knew why Glaucus was on the corpse. Sometimes, Glaucus would accompany me on my wanderings about the labyrinth, usually perched on my shoulder. These wanderings would often take hours so occasionally I would take a snack for both of us. With nowhere else to put it, I would tuck scraps of food into the top of my loincloth. Glaucus knew that I kept my food there. He’d been ransacking the corpse looking for treats.
The guard held Glaucus up for the others to see. They laughed as he squirmed desperately, trying to win his freedom. The guard grasped Glaucus in both hands and twisted viciously. I heard a sharp crack, and then Glaucus’s body went limp. The guard tossed him casually to the ground. All four guards laughed again.
The sound of Glaucus’s spine snapping also severed my links to sanity. The bond between my rational intelligent mind and my animal instincts was gone. For a moment, only the beast remained. I truly became the Minotaur.
With a bestial roar that shook the walls, I charged. All tactics forgotten. There was only my rage. It was the only time in my life that I lost complete control, and I am still ashamed of it.
Heedless of their swords, I waded into them. My roar had frozen the guards in terror. For a moment, they were too shaken to move. I picked the one who had killed Glaucus. I grabbed him and slung him over my shoulders, snapping his back much the same way as he had done to Glaucus.
The death provided an incentive for the others. Motivated by survival, they attacked, slashing, swinging, and stabbing at me with their weapons. I didn’t care. Several times, the blades bit home, but I hardly felt them. The wielder of the club aimed for my head, but the blow bounced off my helmet. I didn’t even feel it. It was almost like my body belonged to someone or something else.
I picked up one of the other guards and broke his neck. The third, I punched so hard he was dead before he hit the ground. The fourth, well the fourth did the only thing he could. He ran.
I charged after him but fear had given him wings. A rope, the same rope the guards had once used to lower my food, was still dangling from the trapdoor. The guard reached it and scrambled up it faster than I would’ve believed. The rope was quickly pulled up before I could reach it.
I stood underneath the trapdoor and vented my rage, screaming and roaring. I have no idea how long I stood there. Eventually, some semblance of sanity returned, and I was overwhelmed with sudden fatigue and loss. I returned to where the bodies of the three guards and the poor Athenian youth lay. Gently, reverently, I gathered the tiny dead body of my friend Glaucus to my breast.
I knelt there for a long time, gently rocking back and forth, crooning to Glaucus, telling him over and over again that I was sorry. That I would never forget him. It seems absurd, I know, to be so grief stricken over a rat of all things. You have to remember that Glaucus was my only companion and friend for months while I was trapped in the darkness. I loved him unconditionally.
Cradling his tiny broken body, I returned to my bedchamber. I lay down and curled into a fetal position, tucking his slowly cooling corpse next to mine and closed my eyes, suddenly overcome with exhaustion. It was just like the way we used to huddle together before we had blankets to warm us.
Several days later, that was how Phaedra found me.
Ω
Phaedra told me later that I almost died. She nursed me for two weeks. When she wasn’t able to, she sent my brothers. I don’t remember any of it, wracked as I was with feverish dreams, coated in sweat.
I dreamt of Androgeus lying dead in my arms. My rat Glaucus was there too, drowned in Androgeus’s blood. Kyon, dead on the sacrificial altar. The faces of the Athenian youth, and the guards I had killed haunted me. There were other faces too. It seemed that every man I had killed decided to pay me a visit.
The wounds I had suffered were deep, almost beyond anyone’s ability to heal. Phaedra did her best to sew the worst of them up with catgut, but she confessed later that she despaired and had resigned herself to my inevitable death. I suspect it was only my innate strength and perhaps the favor of Poseidon himself that saved me.
Eventually, I recovered from the fever and woke to find myself alone in the darkness. I fumbled around and managed to light my lamp after several failed attempts. The sudden light stung my eyes, but I finally oriented myself. I realized where I was. I found some food and water that Phaedra had set beside me. My stomach gurgled alarmingly, so I contented myself with the water only.
By the time Phaedra returned three days later, I was on my feet, weak as a newly weaned baby but well on the road to recovery.
“What did you do with Glaucus?” I asked as she fussed around me.
I could tell she was confused. “Glaucus? Oh, your rat. I took him outside and buried him.”
At first, I was angry that she had touched him, but I knew I was being irrational. Phaedra knew of my attachment to my rat. She hadn’t meant any offense. I suppose I had wanted to be the one to bury him, but I knew that was impossible here in the labyrinth.
“I thought you’d squashed him. You did thrash around a lot,” she said.
“No,” I said sadly. “I didn’t squash him.”
She looked at me strangely but didn’t ask how Glaucus had died, and I was in no mood to explain.
She told me to sit so she could examine my wounds. “Do you want to tell me what happened?” she asked gently.
I thought about telling her, but I couldn’t bring myself. I doubt whether she or anyone else would understand my actions. That I had killed three men over a rat.
“The guards attacked me,” I said finally.
“But why?” asked Phaedra, evidently confused.
“Out of fear,” I lied.
“Strange,” said Phaedra. “I wonder why they were in the labyrinth in the first place?”
“They wanted to see the body,” I said.
“The body? You mean the poor Athenian boy?” She nodded slowly as understanding dawned. “They wanted to know whether you had eaten him. Well, they are destined to be disappointed. You will never become like that, Asterion. I know you won’t.”
I had my doubts. I had experienced full-blown madness. I wasn’t sure exactly what I was capable of at that moment.
“Everyone’s talking about it, though,” said Phaedra.
“What? About how the beast of the labyrinth killed some poor innocent guards?” I asked angrily. “Trust me, they weren’t innocent.”
“I’m not sure why you’re getting angry, Asterion. It seems simple enough. They attacked you. You defended yourself. I understand.”
“No, I don’t think you understand,” I said, beginning to feel more sad than angry. I think my sadness stemmed from the fact that Phaedra didn’t know me as well as she used to. The old Phaedra would’ve known something else was wrong and questioned me until she got to the bottom of it. But then it wasn’t Phaedra who had changed, was it? It was me.
Phaedra shook her head, frustrated. “Regardless of whether I understand or not. Regardless of what really happened, you know I love you, Asterion. I will always love you, no matter what.” She crept toward me as if I was some animal she didn’t want to startle and wrapped her arms around my waist.
I flinched as her hands touched some of my wounds. I didn’t know what to do at first. I felt somehow unworthy of her affections and kept my hands at my side. Slowly though, her arms began to tighten around my waist. I couldn’t resist. I wrapped her in an embrace and began to cry, letting out the grief I felt over the death of Glaucus.
If my tears confused Phaedra, she didn’t sho
w it. She didn’t speak, content to stay in my arms. We held each other for a long time, but all good things, as they say, must end.
Change, blown by the winds of the Aegean and the Cretan sea, was coming.
Chapter 16
A new phase of my life began. I had almost everything I needed in the labyrinth. Everything but companionship. I missed Glaucus terribly. In some ways, I almost missed him more than Kyon or even Androgeus, but I think that is probably understandable. Glaucus was there for me during the most trying period of my life. I felt his absence like a part of me had been severed. It was especially difficult during the periods where I slept. I often woke up expecting him to be there and cried when he wasn’t. I thought about befriending another rat but I didn’t want to betray Glaucus’s memory.
Phaedra visited as often as she could, which of course wasn’t often enough for my liking. Catreus and Deucalion came too, often making me laugh with tales of their adventures. Phaedra brought more flowers, and my brothers brought papyrus, quill, and ink, which I used to write down some of my thoughts and experiences.
Months passed. The seasons, unremarked upon in that dark place, flowed from one into the next. My bedchamber became almost cluttered. Phaedra and my brothers had even managed to bring furniture into the labyrinth, breaking it down and then reassembling it once it was through the secret passage. I now had two stools and several shelves that were lined with my writing implements, wads of papyrus covered with the scrawl of mine and other’s thoughts, vases filled with wild flowers, and other oddments that were brought below to remind me that the world still existed above.
Minos must have calculated that my food sources would have been depleted. He reinstated my feeding program, and I was careful to remove every scrap lowered from the basket, even though I did not touch the disgusting food offered.
Gradually, the pain of Glaucus’s death diminished. My love and bond with Phaedra grew as if to compensate. So much so that her absence brought almost physical pain. I took to counting the days until we were together. If she returned later than she had promised, I began to fret.
This prompted me to continue work on widening the tunnel. I began to obsess, believing that Phaedra would never return. I had to widen the tunnel, not necessarily to escape, but to ensure that I would be able to see her again. If Phaedra didn’t return, I would venture outside and bring her to me. This, I realize, sounds like madness. If I widened the tunnel sufficiently for me to get out to see her, it was obviously enough for me to escape the labyrinth altogether.
I didn’t really see it like that though. Despite my earlier brush with madness, I suspect that my mind had still been deeply affected by my experiences. I began to view the labyrinth as my home. I didn’t really want to leave. I was safe within its embrace.
The tunneling itself was conducted with a great deal of caution. I was only too conscious of the noise of my chisel against rock. I had no real fear of the guards once again entering the maze. The surviving guard had ensured that, telling everyone who would listen of the horrendous monster that now dwelt inside. But I had no illusions that the sound of tunneling would not bring some form of armed response. It would have to. Now that I was such a fearsome monster, they would not risk the chance that I might escape.
As a result, my labors were incredibly slow. I would gently chisel a small piece of limestone away and then stop to listen. Of course, in order to dig further, I had to destroy the cleverly concealed hatch, but I no longer cared a fig about that. I actually welcomed the task. It gave me something to do. There was only so much exercising, reading, and writing I could do. I still wandered the labyrinth at times, pretending that Glaucus was still with me. I talked to him, often emitting noises that were probably more like grunts or roars than actual words. If Glaucus’s ghost could have spoken, he would’ve told me I was mad.
Then came the day when Phaedra brought more unexpected news.
“Asterion,” she said softly. “I have to go away for a few weeks.” Phaedra often spoke to me softly now. I think she realized that my mental state was a little fragile.
“Why?” I demanded. “You can’t. Who’s going to keep me company? What about my food?”
She took my hand and stroked it, trying to soothe me. “Catreus and Deucalion will still be here. They will look after your needs.”
“But where are you going?” I asked, unsuccessfully trying not to sound too pitiful.
“To Athens. Father and Ariadne are going with me.”
“Why?” I asked, confused. Perhaps Phaedra had decided to marry Theseus after all? I felt an irrational surge of betrayal and anger.
“Hush, Asterion. It’s all right. We are going to escort the new tributes here.” If Phaedra had been able to see my face, she would’ve known how shocked I was by this news. But Phaedra did know me well, despite my doubts. She knew I was wrestling with the knowledge that it had been another year. Another year in the labyrinth.
“Yes,” she said, as if reading my mind. “It has almost been a year since the last tributes were sent. But this year, there will be one amongst them who is special.”
“Special?” I asked. “How?”
“This one is the prince of Athens. Your friend, Theseus, has insisted that he be among the tributes.”
I was absolutely stunned by this news. If I hadn’t already been sitting down, I would’ve staggered.
“Why would Theseus willingly volunteer?” I asked shakily.
“For you,” said Phaedra simply.
“How do you know this?” I asked hotly. “What makes you think Theseus isn’t coming for my blood?”
“Answer you own question, Asterion,” said Phaedra, choosing her words carefully. “You know him better than any. Do you really think Theseus is coming to kill you?”
I thought about this. Theseus and I had been through a lot together. We had had our disagreements, sure, but we were friends, comrades. Brothers in arms. Possibly brothers in the real sense too if it were true that Poseidon was our father. I knew in my heart that even though Theseus could be a cold-hearted killer, he only killed those who warranted death. Even at my lowest, wallowing in self-doubt and loathing, I knew I didn’t deserve to die by his hand. I also knew that Theseus could never bring himself to kill me, unless he truly believed that I had become a monster.
“No,” I said finally, knowing that it was true.
“Then,” said Phaedra, “the only other solution is that he is coming to rescue you. Don’t worry, Asterion. I will talk to him during the voyage. Together we will find a solution.”
I trusted Phaedra, just as I trusted Theseus. I had no doubt that they would come up with a plan. Theseus was a man of action—not of thought—but Phaedra amply made up for his shortcomings. They would make a good combination, something that once again began to churn my feelings of jealousy.
Even reassured by Phaedra, I still had my doubts. Perhaps Theseus was coming to kill me. Maybe his father had forced him to do it. What then? I guess I would have to face him when the time came. And that time was coming soon. Theseus was coming to Crete.
He was coming, so everyone else believed, to slay the dreaded Minotaur. To kill the beast. To kill me.
Oddly, despite these thoughts, I was looking forward to seeing him again.
Ω
Phaedra, Minos, and Ariadne left on their fateful trip to Athens. I remained in the Labyrinth. Where else would I be? It’s not like I could go anywhere.
The weeks passed slowly, agonizingly slowly. My birthday passed without notice. Phaedra was not around to celebrate the occasion with me, and I was unaware in any case. I was eighteen now, not that I knew it.
Catreus and Deucalion kept me company whenever possible. I continued work on the escape tunnel, more to keep myself occupied than for any other reason. I felt confident that the tunnel would no longer be needed once Theseus arrived. Somehow, Theseus would defeat Minos and his guards and pull me out through the trapdoor. I doubted whether an
y of the tributes would even be lowered into the labyrinth. Theseus would have the palace under his control long before then. He was, after all, a hero.
Years later, Phaedra told me of their journey back from Athens. How Ariadne fawned over Theseus, and how he basically ignored her advances. Phaedra and Theseus spent as much time as they could together without arousing suspicion. Time they used to finalize their plans. She would take water to him where he was chained in the hold of the ship and loiter for as long as she dared.
Other than that, the voyage was largely uneventful. Some poets decided embellishment was necessary, that the sea voyage can’t have been without some adventure. I’ve read stories of how Theseus encountered one of the Nereids, the daughters of the sea god Nereus. The only thing Phaedra said they encountered was a whale that almost sank the ship.
Then there was the story about Minos making advances toward one of the Athenian maidens and how Theseus took offence. Apparently, Theseus sprang to her defense, claiming it was his right as a son of Poseidon. Just how you spring to someone’s defense when you are chained up in the hold is a mystery to me.
Then, so the stories go, Minos asked Theseus to prove his divine origins. He threw his signet ring overboard and challenged Theseus to find it, knowing it was an impossible task without Poseidon’s aid. Theseus, of course, emerged triumphant from the water of the Cretan sea. Not only did he have Minos’s ring but also a jeweled crown given to him by one of the Nereids.
Phaedra, who was actually there, told me that the only person who went overboard was one of the sailors, who was thrown into the sea on Minos’s command for being drunk. And the only thing that came out of the sea was a large chunk of seaweed that had become entangled in the anchor.
But of course the heroic tales surrounding Theseus continued to grow. Much like my growing reputation as a fearsome flesh-eating monster that had to be killed at all costs.
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