The King Must Die

by Mary Renault

  There was a woman in the Palace, who had belonged to his father before he was born. She was more than eighty years old, and did not work much, but used to blend the bath-scent and the oil, and dry the sweet herbs. Once, when I was in the bath, she came by and pulled a lock of my hair, and said, “Come back, lad. Where have you flown off to?” She was allowed her liberties because she was so old; I smiled and said, “To Eleusis.” “And what does Athens lack, then?” “Athens?” I said. “Why, nothing.” My father had given me two fine rooms, and had the walls new painted with mounted warriors, and with some very good lions, which I liked so well I have kept them to this day. “Athens lacks nothing,” I said. “But there is work in Eleusis I ought to be at now.”

  She picked up my hand from the side of the bath, and turned it palm upward. “A meddling hand. Always doing, never letting be. Wait, Shepherd of the People, wait on the gods; they will send it work enough. Have patience with your father. He has waited long to say, ‘Here is my son’; now he wants to live thirty years in one. Bear with him, lad; you are the one with time before you.

  I snatched back my hand into the bath. “What do you mean, old scritch-owl? He has thirty years to go, before he is as old as you are; and you look good for another ten. Why, before the god sends for him, I myself may be as old as he is now. Are you ill-wishing him, or what?” Then I was sorry, and said, “No, but you should not talk carelessly, even though you mean no harm.”

  She peered at me under her gray wrinkled lids. “Be at peace, Shepherd of Athens. You are dear to the gods. The gods will save you.”

  “Me?” I said staring. But she had shuffled off. She was the oldest woman in the Palace, and her wits were failing.

  Spring came on; there were pale green buds on the black vinestocks, and the cuckoo called. And my father said to me, “My son, about this time of year you must have been born.”

  I said, “Yes, in the fourth month’s second quarter. My mother said so.”

  He struck his fist into his hand. “Why, what have we been about? I must make a feast for you. Your mother should be here! Now we can’t wait for her; all Athens knows when I passed through Troizen, and if this is not your birth-month, you are not my son. Well, well, it is not strange I forgot. You grew into a man ahead of your years, and I have missed your boyhood. It will be your victory feast as well.”

  I thought of my mother, and what was due to her. Presently I said, “We could sacrifice on the day, and send for her to Troizen, and make the feast later.” But he shook his head, saying, “It will not do. No, it would be coming on tribute-time, and the people would not like rejoicing then.” What with the war, and all that had happened since I came to Athens, it did not come to my mind what tax he meant, and thinking about my mother I forgot to ask him.

  When the day came, I was early up, but he had risen earlier. The priest of Apollo trimmed my hair, and shaved the down from my cheeks and chin. I had more to dedicate than I thought; it had not showed much, being fine and fair.

  My father smiled, and said he had something to show me, and led me to the stables. The grooms flung wide the doors. Within was a new chariot, of dark polished cypress-wood, with ivory inlays and silver-bound wheels, a craftsman’s masterpiece. Laughing, he bade me look well at the axle-pin; I should not find wax this time.

  It was a gift beyond my dearest wish. I thanked him on one knee, putting his hand to my brow; but he said, “Why this haste, before you have seen the horses?”

  They were matched blacks, with white-blazed foreheads; strong and glossy, sons of the north wind. My father said, “Aha, we slipped them up here, as neat as Hermes the Trickster lifting Apollo’s steers. The chariot while you were in Eleusis; and the horses this very morning, while you still slept.”

  He rubbed his hands together. I was touched at his taking all this care to surprise me, as if I had been a child. “We must take them out,” I said. “Father, finish your business early, and I will be your charioteer.” We agreed that after the rites, we would drive to Paionia below Hymettos.

  There was a big crowd waiting on the slopes around the shrine of Apollo. As well as the chief people of Athens, those of Eleusis had been bidden to the festival, and all the Companions. While the priest was studying the victim’s entrails, and taking a long time about it, I heard a buzz among the Athenians, as if some news were being passed along; and it was like a dark cloud crossing the sun. I am a man who likes to know what goes on around me; but I could not leave my place to question anyone, and we went on to the sacrifice of Poseidon and the Mother, at the household shrine. Afterwards I looked for my father, but he had gone off somewhere; to finish his business, I supposed, as we had planned.

  I changed my clothes for a driver’s tunic and tooled leather greaves, and tied back my hair; then I went out to my horses, and gave them some salt, and made much of them, to let them know their master. I heard some bustle and stir in the Palace beyond, but it was to be looked for on a feast day. There was a young groom, a graceful lad, polishing harness; someone called him to come, and he put down his rag and beeswax, and went off with a face of fear. I wondered what he had done that had found him out, and thought no more of it.

  From the horses I went to the chariot, and looked at the inlay-work of dolphins and doves, and felt the balance; till even these pleasures I had had my fill of, and could not help thinking, “How slow old men are! By now I could have done it all three times over.” I called a groom, and told him to take the chariot down the ramp; as for the horses, I could not bear to let them out of my sight. It seemed to me he looked at me strangely as he went; I shrugged it off, yet began to feel uneasy.

  I waited and waited, till the horses grew restive, and I resolved to go and see what kept my father. Just then he came up, alone. He had not even changed his clothes; I could have sworn he had forgotten why I was waiting. He blinked and said, “I am sorry, my son; that must be for tomorrow.”

  I answered that I was sorry to lose his company, which was true, though I thought too that now I could race the horses. Then I looked at his face again. “What is it, Father? You have had news, and bad news too.”

  “It is nothing,” he said. “But business keeps me. Take out your horses, boy. But have them brought round below the postern, and go down yourself by the stair. I don’t wish you to cross the market place.”

  I stared at him frowning, and said, “Why not?” It was in my mind that I had just fought a war for him; and this was my feast of manhood.

  He straightened his neck, and answered sharply, “Sometimes you must obey without asking reasons.”

  I tried not to be angry. He was King, and his counsel was his own to keep. But something of moment was going on; it drove me mad to be in ignorance; besides, being young and cocksure I thought he would bungle it without me. “And I shall pay for it,” I thought, “when my day comes, if I live so long.”

  I felt anger take hold of me, and put myself in mind of my duty and his goodness, and closed my teeth and hands. I found I was shaking all over, and even sweating, like a horse that is both reined and spurred.

  “You should trust me,” he said fretfully, “to have your good in mind.”

  I swallowed, and said slowly, “It seems we have counted wrong, sir. I am not a man today, but still a child.”

  “Do not be angry, Theseus.” There was even pleading in his voice. I thought, “I must do as he says; he has loaded me down with kindness; he is my father, he is King and priest; thrice sacred to Ever-Living Zeus.” And then I thought, “He has not strength to face out even me; what work does he mean to put that shaking hand to?” But I felt myself shaking worse than he. I was afraid of myself, and of I knew not what, as if some dark shape hovered between me and the sun.

  While I stood silent, a man came out from the Palace; one of the House Barons, a dull slow fellow. “King Aigeus,” he said, “I have looked for you everywhere. The boys and girls are all ready in the market place; and the Cretan captain is saying that if you do not come, he won’t wait f
or the lottery, but will choose fourteen for himself.”

  My father drew in a harsh breath and said softly, “Get out, you fool.” He stared and went. We were left looking at one another.

  Presently I said, “Father, I’m sorry I was hasty, when you’ve trouble enough. But why in the world did you not tell me this?” He did not answer, but passed his hand across his brows. I said, “To run off down the postern, and slip away; what kind of fool would that make of me? Thunder of Zeus! I am Lord of Eleusis. Even Cretan insolence won’t reach to carrying off a king. Why should I hide myself? I ought to be down there now, in my old clothes, showing the people I don’t feast while they are mourning. And, besides, I must send my Companions home. It is not seemly to have them walking about while Athenian boys are taken; such things make ill-feeling. Where is the herald? I want them called in.”

  Still he stood silent. My skin crept, like a dog’s before a storm. “Yes?” I said. “What is it?”

  He answered at last, “You cannot call them now. The Cretans came early: they were rounded up with the rest.”

  I took a step forward and said, “What?”

  I had spoken louder than I meant. The horses were startled; I motioned the groom to take them away. “Father,” I said at last, “was this well done? I am answerable for them to my people.” Trying not to shout, I was almost whispering; I could not trust myself. I said, “How dared you keep this from me?”

  “You are too hot,” he said, “to meet the Cretans in anger.” I saw he was close to tears; it put me nearly beside myself. “There was a brawl here once before, and one of their princes was killed. This tribute is the fine for it. Next time, they would send a hundred ships and lay waste the land. What could I do? What could I do?

  This sobered me. I felt he had judged me justly. “Very well, Father, I will take care not to make trouble. But I must go at once and get my men away. What are they thinking of me, all this while?”

  He shook his head. “King Minos hears everything. He knows the kingdoms are joined now. I don’t think he will forgo his claim.”

  “But,” I said, grasping my dagger hilt and trying to be steady, “I swore to them they should not join Athens to their loss.”

  He stood in thought, rubbing his chin. “If the lot should happen to fall on a man of yours, you would have a good case for having your own tribute remitted. Sometimes, Theseus, it is expedient one man should perish for the sake of the people.”

  I lifted my hand to my head. My ears were ringing. He went on, “They are only Minyans, not Hellenes, when all is said.”

  The ringing dinned in my ears, rising and falling. I shouted, “Minyan, Hellene, what does it matter? I have vowed to stand for them to the god. What does this make me? What am I?”

  He said something; that I was his son, and Shepherd of Athens. I could just hear him, like a voice beyond a wall. I pressed my clenched fist against my brow. “Father!” I said. “What shall I do?” But once the words were out of my mouth, I knew it was not to him that I had spoken. Presently my head quieted a little, and then I could hear him, asking if I was sick.

  “No, sir,” I said. “I am better; I see what I must do, to save my honor. If they will not free my people, I must take the luck of the draw myself, just like the others.”

  “You?” he said, opening his mouth and eyes. “Are you mad, boy?” Then his face closed up again, and he stroked his beard. “Well, well,” he said at last, “you were right when you went back to Eleusis. You have a feeling for such things. It will make the people patient, if you stand among them. Yes, after all, it is a good thought.”

  I was glad to see him calm again. I put my hand on his arm. “Don’t be anxious, Father. The god won’t take me if it is not my fate. I’ll change these clothes and come back.” I went off running, and flung on the first thing that came to hand, a hunting-suit of undyed doeskin with green tassels down the sides of the thighs. I hardly looked at it then; but I got to know it later. My father was where I had left him; a chamberlain he had been giving orders to was hurrying off.

  From the North Terrace one could see down to the market place. It had been cleared of its stock pens and stalls for the festival. The boys and girls were standing on the north side, where the altar is to All the Gods. As we went down, we heard the wailing.

  By the time we got there, the Cretans had been over them. The tall ones and the fat ones, the sick and halt and lackwit, had been let go; the little quick ones, the strong and slim, remained; youths on the right and maidens on the left. Or so it had begun; but some had run together in the middle, and you could tell, from the way they stood, which had been openly betrothed and which had kept their secret till today. Many of the girls were almost children. Only virgins could be bull-dancers; there was a rush of weddings before tribute-time. The Cretans always brought a priestess with them, to settle arguments.

  A good third of my Companions were there among the boys. As I came nearer, they waved their hands. I saw they looked to be free at once, now I was here. I waved back, as if I thought so too. Then I felt eyes in my back, and saw the Athenians looking at me. I knew what they were thinking, as they saw me walking free at my father’s side. Penned up for the lottery I could see boys not sixteen years old, the same height as I. I remembered my grandfather telling me I was just the build for it. My heart felt sick with it all, sick and angry. I turned to the Cretans.

  At the first sight of them I started; for they were black. I had forgotten Minos’ foreign levies. They had on leopardskin kilts and helmets made of horses’ scalps, with the manes and ears. Their shields were black and white, from some striped beast unknown to me. Their glossy shoulders gleamed in the sun, and they rolled up their eyes to look at the Citadel, showing the whites. Otherwise they were quite still, as I had never seen troops still before, shields and javelins all in line, one body with a hundred heads. In front was the Captain, the only Cretan there.

  My notion of Cretans I had got from those who came to Troizen. I should have guessed that those were merchants, aping the airs of Knossos Palace where no one knew the difference. Here stood the pattern; and I saw the copies had been poor.

  This one too looked girlish at first glance. He was dressed for parade, bareheaded; a pretty black boy held his helmet and shield. His dark hair, rippling and sleek like a woman’s, fell to his waist behind, and his face was shaved so smooth it took time to see he was near thirty. His only garments were a thick rolled belt round his slim middle, and a loin-guard of gilded bronze. Round his neck was a deep collar of gold and crystal beads. All this I saw before he deigned to look at me; this and the way he stood; like a painting done on a wall of a princely victor, whom words do not touch, nor time and change, nor tears, nor anger; but he will stand so in his ease and pride, uncaring, till war or earthquake shakes down the wall.

  I went over, and he looked up at me under his long black lashes. He was about two thumbs shorter, and let me see clearly that this was the proper height for a gentleman. Before I had opened my mouth, he said, “I am sorry, but unless you have exemption in writing, I can do nothing at all.”

  Feeling myself get angry, I kept my father’s words in mind, and said quietly, “It is no such matter. I am Theseus, King of Eleusis.” He said, “I must beg your pardon,” with cool civility and no pretense of shame. “You have over there,” I said to him, “a dozen young men of my bodyguard, all those who are still beardless. They are guests in Athens. You will have to wait, while I fetch them out.”

  He raised his brows. “I am instructed that Eleusis is in vassalage to Athens now; a feoff of the King’s heir, whom, I take it, I have the honor to speak with.” It was like talking to a man of polished bronze.

  “I am no one’s vassal,” I said. “Eleusis is my kingdom. I killed the last King according to custom.” He lifted his brows into his curled hair. “And,” I said, “our tribute, paid two-yearly, is corn, so much, and so much wine.” I have a good memory for such things.

  “Well,” he said in his light hard
voice, “if you had applied in writing to the Treasury, it might have been looked into. I am not an assessor; I collect where I am told. Kings, after all, are a good many in these parts. In Crete we have only one.”

  My hands itched to pick him up and break him across my knee. But I remembered the people. He saw I was angry, and said without any heat, “Believe me, Prince, this lottery is no choice of mine. It is an inconvenience I put up with. I consider the customs of the place, wherever I can. In Corinth, when I come into port I find the boys and girls ready on the quayside. It saves me time and trouble, as you may suppose.”

  “No doubt,” I said. “Whereas in Athens you must wait while justice is done, and the people witness it.”

  “Yes, yes; that is understood. Clearly, then, I cannot consider what you ask. See for yourself how it will look, if you go about picking out this lad and that. The people will suppose that at your age you will hardly act without your father’s knowledge; that the sons of his friends are being begged off, or perhaps some youth dear to yourself. Then we shall have trouble. I am putting up with all this delay; but a riot I cannot do with. Believe me, I know something of these things.”

  I kept my hands off him, and even my voice down. I only said, “You have not been half a day here. Are you telling me what the people think?”

  “No offense,” he said lightly. “I am telling you what I know. You, or your father rather, chose this custom. Well, I consent to it, cumbrous as it is; but I will see it carried out. That is my last word, I am afraid. Where are you going?”

  His voice had changed; a ripple went through the line of black warriors behind him, like the ripple on a leopard’s back before it springs.

  I turned back, and said so that I could be heard, “I am going to join my people, and share the lot of the god.”

  I heard a deep sound of voices, and saw my father looking here and there. As I walked on, a touch on my shoulder made me start. I turned; there was the Cretan Captain. He had left his men in line, and run after me on his small light feet.