“But you returned to the labyrinth,” said Ovid. “Why don’t you live there now?”
“I did for many years,” said Ast. “The earthquake and fire made the palace uninhabitable. Few people visited. After a time, some of it was given over to worship of the goddess Rhea, and a shrine was built in her honor.
“Over time, I managed to get over my fear of open spaces again by spending some time every day outside tending the gardens. Eventually, I made my home here. I didn’t really want to leave the labyrinth completely, but it has become too unstable—too dangerous—inside. Subsequent earthquakes have seen to that. You’ve seen what it is like. Much of it is now filled in with rubble and erosion. Time has not been kind to it. Eventually, there will be little evidence that it existed at all.”
Ovid nodded. The place was a death trap. The thought of living there—even over a thousand years earlier—was almost too much to think about. “And … and what happened to Phaedra?” he asked hesitantly.
Ast said nothing for a long moment, looking at Ovid with an unreadable expression. Finally, he spoke.
“She was the daughter of Minos. Unlike my other siblings, she was filled with the strength of the gods. Immortal, like me.”
“So where is she now?” asked Ovid.
Ast sighed sadly and shrugged his massive shoulders. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen her for many years. Long after her marriage to Theseus, she returned here, but the memories of this place were too much for her to bear. She wanted to forget, and she couldn’t release the past surrounded by the ruins of this place. Besides, I prefer the dark, and her place is in the sun.”
“Oh,” said Ovid, for once lacking the words. He felt like he should say something comforting, but casting around inside his head, he realized nothing he could say would be suitable or appropriate.
“Now,” said Ast, standing suddenly. “You have heard my story. Are you satisfied? Do you believe?”
Ovid nodded his head slowly. “I am. I do.” His scholar’s instinct told him he had heard nothing but the truth these last two days. As far-fetched as it was, Ast was the embodiment of sincerity. Ovid believed him with his entire being. There was no doubt in his mind that the man before him had once been the fabled Minotaur. It was hard to come to terms with the skeptic he was when he first arrived. That was almost a completely different person.
“What are your plans then?” asked Ast.
“I will return to Rome and write up my notes for publication. Metamorphoses is all but finished, so I will concentrate all my attention on your story.”
“And what then?”
“Then it is up to the people to believe. They will have to decide what the truth is.”
Ast nodded. It was all he’d expected.
Ast helped gather Ovid’s possessions into the bags the poet had brought from the port. He carried them outside and loaded them onto the donkey waiting patiently nearby. It was just past dawn, and although early, the sun was already providing a comfortable warmth.
Ovid appeared with his writer’s satchel slung over his shoulder. Ast helped him up onto the donkey.
“Do you want me to accompany you?” asked Ast.
“No need, my friend. I know the way now. I will write to you and send you a copy of the manuscript when it is complete.”
“Very well,” said Ast. “Safe travels.”
“And you also,” said Ovid. He paused. “Thank you,” he said finally.
“For what?” asked Ast, slightly confused.
“For your story. It is a gift. It is not a common thing to tell the truth.”
“For me, there is little else left.”
Ovid inclined his head but made no comment. Without another word, he turned the donkey and set off.
Ω
Ast, sometimes known as Asterion, the man that had once been known as the Minotaur, watched him depart. When Ovid had disappeared, he returned to his cottage and sat down wearily at the table.
The door opened, and a figure appeared.
“Has he gone?”
Ast nodded. “He has.”
“Do you feel better now?”
“A little,” he confessed. “It was good to tell the truth. Finally. Theseus is a thousand years dead. I no longer feel like I am betraying his memory.”
“I think he’d understand. You and he went through a lot together. It’s only fair that your part in it is heard. Besides, you can apologize to him in person one day.”
“And what now?” he asked.
“You promised that once this was done, we would finally find our rest in Olympus. You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”
“No, of course not. You of all people should know that once my word is given, I do not break it lightly,” he replied, somewhat stiffly.
“Oh, don’t be like that,” she said. She walked over to the table and hugged him tightly. “Just out of interest, was it really necessary for you to lie to him like that?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“About me,” she said. “Don’t be stupid. You know what I’m talking about.”
“It was,” he said firmly. “Humans struggle with the truth as it is. If I give them a happy ending, there is no chance it would be believed. Happy endings only happen in myths and legends.”
“Is that a fact?” said Phaedra, kissing him on the lips. “Then how do you explain us?”
And then she laughed.
THE END
Map of ancient Greece used with permission from greeka.com.
Notes
Ovid
Publius Ovidius Naso (43 BC – AD 17/18) was commonly known as Ovid to the majority of the English-speaking world. He was one of the more famous Roman poets, best known for his three major collections of poetry: the Heroides, Amores, and Ars Amatoria. The Metamorphoses is probably his greatest known work.
By 7 AD, he had almost finished the Metamorphoses. The Metamorphoses is an epic poem comprised of 15 books that explore Greek and Roman mythology. It tells of the transformations of human beings into new forms.
Ovid embarked on a voyage just before its publication, visiting some of the places where the heroic events had taken place, possibly for inspiration but more likely to check the validity of his stories.
It was around this time that he met Ast on Crete.
In 8 AD, Ovid was banished to Tomis, on the Black Sea, by the Emperor Augustus.
According to Ovid, he was banished for carmen et error (a poem and a mistake). No one knows for certain why Ovid was exiled. Many scholars have offered explanations but not one of them guessed at the truth. None of them are credible.
The truth is this: Ovid attempted to publish the true story of the Minotaur. Augustus, long a fan of heroic adventures, especially those of Theseus, refused to believe. When Ovid insisted it was the truth, Augustus exiled him and destroyed one of the two copies in existence.
This recount is based on the remaining copy that was recovered from Ovid’s tomb in Tomis.
Knossos and the Labyrinth
Scholars have long agreed that Knossos, Crete, is the site of the labyrinth. Arthur Evans conducted a series of excavations on the palace revealing the true extent of the site. It contained over thirteen hundred rooms, giving rise to the belief that the palace itself was part of the labyrinth. Ruins of the palace still contain many depictions of men leaping over the horns of a bull.
It is unknown whether the labyrinth was actually underneath the palace because of erosion and other natural processes.
According to archaeological evidence, Knossos was abandoned in the late Bronze Age (1380 – 1100 BC) due to damage caused by both a massive earthquake and a fire. It was never occupied again.
Most believe that the earthquake was a natural disaster. You know better.
Acknowledgements
My thanks to all the people who read the initial drafts and offered advice and constructive feedback. Special thanks go to D.C. Grant,
Catherine Mayo and Suzy Rutan. My wonderful agent, Vicki Marsdon at Wordlink, has been there for me the whole time, championing Minotaur from the outset. Of course this wouldn’t have been possible without Georgia McBride at Month9Books and her wonderful editing crew— Nichole LaVigne and Cameron … My eternal thanks. I am very grateful to the other staff at Month9Books including Allie Kincheloe, Jaime Arnold, Jennifer Million … To Najla Qamber Designs for the wonderful cover … My eternal thanks. As always, my thanks and love to my wife, Rose, for giving me the time and space to write. Her support and encouragement have always been unconditional. And to my son, Jack, for the inspiration and drive to do better.
PHILLIP W. SIMPSON
Phillip W. Simpson is the author of many novels, chapter books, and other stories for children. His publishers include Macmillan, Penguin, Pearson, Cengage, Raintree, and Oxford University Press.
He received both his undergraduate degree in Ancient History and Archaeology and his Masters (Hons) degree in Archaeology from the University of Auckland. He started, but has yet to complete, his Ph.D. in Archaeology. He has post-graduate diplomas in Museum Studies, Teaching, Education, and Human Resource Management.
Before embarking on his writing career, he joined the army as an officer cadet, owned a comic shop, and worked in recruitment in both the UK and Australia.
His first young adult novel, Rapture (Rapture Trilogy #1), was shortlisted for the Sir Julius Vogel Awards for best Youth novel in 2012.
When not writing, he works as a schoolteacher.
Phillip lives and writes in Auckland, New Zealand with his wife Rose, their son, Jack, and their two border terriers, Whiskey and Raffles. He loves fishing, reading, movies, football (soccer), and single malt Whiskeys.
For more information, go to www.phillipwsimpson.com
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Table of Contents
Cast of Characters
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Map of Ancient Greece
Notes
Acknowledgements
About the Author
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Minotaur Page 27
