Minotaur (10 page)

We kissed. Reluctantly, I broke the embrace to ask a question that had been plaguing me.

“Why do you love me?” I asked.

Phaedra looked at me askance, her head tilting slightly to show the perfection of her jawline. I desperately wanted to kiss her again.

“Do you really need to ask such questions?” she replied, her face serious.

“Of course I do. Look at me. Look at you. Don’t you think we are an odd match?”

“Asterion, you of all people should know I don’t judge based on appearances. To me, you are the most handsome man in the world because of who you are. You are gentle and have a kind soul. That’s more important to me than looks. Besides,” she said, with a twinkle in her eye, “you have big muscles. Every girl likes big muscles.”

“Is that all I am to you? A slab of meat?” I tried to joke, but my tone was all wrong. I knew I half meant what I said. I was only too conscious of my massive size and, like my horns, knew it marked me as an oddity or a strange freak of nature.

Phaedra slapped me playfully. “Most of the time. Sometimes you’re able to string a sentence together that is almost intelligent.”

We both laughed, breaking the tension. Laughter led to more kissing. Through trial, experimentation, and experience, Phaedra and I had worked out how to kiss properly without me goring her to death with my horns. I won’t go into the details here but suffice it to say it took some adroit twisting and dexterity I didn’t know I possessed. I put my experience to good use and soon we were locked in an embrace that even a blind person would interpret as anything but brotherly.

Unfortunately, that was exactly the same time we heard the thud of horses’ hooves. If we hadn’t been so thoroughly intent and otherwise occupied in our pursuit of pleasure, I probably would’ve heard them earlier. As it was, the riders had ample opportunity to witness our love.

If it had been a farmer or woodcutter passing through, we might have gotten away with it. Minos did not like hearing bad news, often punishing the messenger in addition to those who crossed him. Because of this, news of Phaedra and I never found his ears through common people. Although we had always taken pains to be careful, we had been discovered once or twice before, but nothing, as far as I knew, had been said. But these weren’t common people. They were soldiers. Minos’s soldiers with loyalty bought by gold.

I looked up at the sound and discovered with some alarm that four riders had entered the clearing and were watching us with interest. I should’ve immediately known who and what they were. Only soldiers and the ruling class generally rode horses, common people were forced to walk or make use of donkeys. If that wasn’t enough of a clue, their emblazoned kilts and weapons clearly marked them for what they were.

They whispered amongst themselves. A couple of them laughed, nasty sounding chuckles.

Phaedra sat up angrily. “What are you doing here?” she demanded.

“We are just passing through, Princess,” said one of them, leering at her. I felt myself bristle but, with an effort, remained calm. If we had hoped to remain unrecognized, we were out of luck. Even if Phaedra had been with someone else—someone normal—I doubt we would have gotten away with it.

“Well pass then!” she said.

The soldiers laughed but offered no further comment and soon departed.

The mood broken, Phaedra and I decided to return to the palace, our hearts heavy. We spoke little on the walk back, dwelling on our own dismal thoughts. It was a forlorn hope to think the guards would remain silent. Minos, although happy to punish any of his people for idle gossip or rumormongering, took a more pragmatic approach to his soldiers. He needed their loyalty. They were his strength, his power. Without them, he was nothing. If he punished them for telling the truth, for essentially doing their jobs, he would lose them. The soldiers knew it and were motivated by winning Minos’s favor. Everyone in the palace—no, everyone on Crete—knew Minos hated me and welcomed any opportunity to punish or humiliate me.

They must have galloped straight back to the palace because, by the time we had arrived, guards were waiting to escort us to the throne room.

Minos was waiting there, sitting on his throne, his face grim. We knelt before him, lowering our heads but not our eyes. I could tell that Phaedra was scared. Her chest was heaving, and her eyes were wide. I felt the same way, but after my other encounters with Minos, I was not about to give him the pleasure of witnessing any weakness.

He looked from one of us to the other, his eyes completely devoid of warmth. Finally, his gaze settled on Phaedra.

“You will not see this … creature again,” he snarled. “From now on, you will be kept apart. If I hear or see you together, I will have him killed. Do you understand?”

Phaedra, bolder and more courageous than I, did not take this well. She was also a favorite of Minos and tried to use this to her advantage.

“We were doing nothing wrong!” she cried. “Asterion is not even my brother. You know that as well as I. Everyone knows that.”

She dared too much. Minos’s eyes went wide with rage. He gestured to a guard. “Get her out of here. She is not to leave her chambers for one cycle of the moon.” Guards took her away. Only Minos, a few guards, and I remained.

“Remove this
thing
from my presence,” he snarled, not bothering to look at me. “Have him beaten and thrown outside the palace. He is not to return for the same period. If he does, kill him. If you see him with my daughter, kill him.”

I was beaten half to death with wooden staves. The soldiers, eager to win Minos’s approval, were possibly a little over enthusiastic. My body was blackened with bruises for many days after. I hobbled away from the palace and into the nearby forest to lick my wounds.

Of course, I contemplated leaving then but had nowhere to go. I had no money, no weapons. The kilt I wore and the sandals upon my feet were my only possessions.

When I was able to, motivated by hunger and thirst, I sought to satisfy these basic needs. I soon discovered that Minos had issued a decree that if anyone aided me, they would be punished by death. I was forced to steal food and always felt guilty about it. I stole from those who could least afford it—the common people who worked the land outside the palace grounds. I had no choice. If I didn’t, I would’ve died.

Occasionally, when it was dark, I crept into a grain store and slept. More often than not, I made my uncomfortable bed in the forest, usually tucked into the base of a tree. I didn’t know it at the time, but this experience in survival would serve me well in the future.

Eventually, a month passed and I returned to the palace. My bruises had all but healed. The only evidence of my beating were fading blotches of yellow discolored skin scattered over my body.

Under the watchful eyes of the guards, I made my way to my bedchamber, threw myself down on my pallet, and slept for two days.

After that, I rarely saw Phaedra. I was forced to take my lessons privately with Daedalus. I ate alone. Phaedra and I were constantly watched. It was one of the unhappiest times of my youth.

Ω

A few miserable months passed. A time for a festival approached however, one that I was looking forward to. The knowledge raised my spirits considerably. Although many Cretans worshipped the Greek gods of mainland Greece, the bull was still venerated as a holy animal. I still consider it odd that so many reviled me, I who bore the horns of an animal held in such high regard. I put this down to the King’s influence. A wiser and kinder king would’ve perhaps used me to emphasize his divine favor. Unfortunately, Minos was neither of those things.

In the annual festival, games were held to celebrate and honor the bull. One of the highlights of the festival was the famous bull leap. For the last ten years of my life, I had watched those competing in this event with something approaching awe. It was incredibly dangerous and as you can probably imagine, many died from gore wounds. Enraged bulls trampled some. Those who succeeded were heaped with accolades and rewards. The rewards, it seemed, outweighed the risks as many entered.

You had to be sixteen to participate. Androgeus, four years older than I, a superb athlete in his prime, was the resident champion. He had successfully somersaulted each year to rapturous applause and praise. I was hoping to emulate him, not to win favor from Minos but to perhaps gain acceptance from the people. Not only that, but I wanted to impress Phaedra with my physical prowess. I was, after all, just a sixteen-year-old boy.

The bull arena was situated outside the palace grounds, not far from the sea. People from all over the island attended, in numbers so great that they spilled out of the stands like an overfilled bucket. It was the last day of the festival, the climax and culmination of all the other celebrations. The air was filled with happy, excited laughter. The mood was infectious.

The hopeful bull leapers gathered together outside under the shadows of one stand, clad only in simple loincloths. Androgeus and I stood together. I fidgeted nervously. Androgeus stood easily, a relaxed smile adorning his handsome features.

We’d practiced together using smaller bulls, and Androgeus had made it look easy. He used the bull’s back instead of its horns to aid with the somersault but that took immense courage and few risked it. I had seen several try it but only a handful could successfully pull it off. Only those possessed with amazing physical grace and ability could leap high enough to avoid being gored.

I, however, was not equipped with his speed and agility. Not only that, but I was far heavier than my brother. Unless I timed it perfectly, my great weight would often force the bulls head down rather than up, which would lead to a wrestling match rather than an exercise in grace and speed, much to Androgeus delight.

“You’re not trying to seduce it,” he had said during one failed attempt, laughing as I struggled to pull the bull to the ground. “Leap over it, not through it.” At first, I thought Androgeus was referencing my supposed conception. But I knew he would never dishonor our mother with such words. He was not that type of person. I had told him about my true origins, and he had accepted it without question.

“Makes sense,” he’d said. “The horns, your great strength, and size. Who else could be your father but a god?” And that was the end of it. It didn’t change our relationship in the slightest. I worshipped him, and he in turn treated me with kindness, respect, and understanding.

Out of ten attempts, I had succeeded only twice. Androgeus told me not to worry. The bulls in the arena were much larger and had the necessary strength to throw me. I hoped he was right.

As sons of the King, Androgeus and I had the honor of going last. Actually, Androgeus would go last. I would compete just before him. We watched the other competitors try. Some failed, some succeeded. Two died. There was only one more athlete in front of me. The competitor—a young man not much older than myself—cautiously approached the bull from the front. Suddenly, he sprinted toward it and leapt, grasping the cloth wrapped horns and flipping himself over it to land on his feet behind the animal. Fortunately, the bull’s instinctive response aided the athlete. Once it felt the young man’s hands on its horns, it tossed its head upwards and back, helpfully providing the momentum for the somersault. It was beautifully done and the crowd went wild, showering the happy young man with flowers.

Then it was my turn. My fear had almost unmanned me. I was shaking uncontrollably. Androgeus attempted to reassure me. “You’ll do fine, brother. Remember, it’s all about timing. Get that right and you’ve got nothing to worry about. Besides, if you fail, the bull will probably turn tail and run. I would if I was a bull.” He smiled happily and patted me on the back. The words caused most of my fears to evaporate. I couldn’t have loved my brother any more than I did at that moment.

I strode out into the arena, expecting to be greeted by cheers. Instead, I heard only silence. Minos, my mother, and my other siblings sat on a raised dais at the far end of the arena, protected, like the other spectators, by tall wooden walls. My father stared down at me, his expression unreadable. I felt like fleeing in shame. All the other competitors had been met with raucous applause. Did the people of Crete really hate me this much?

Suddenly, ragged cheering broke the silence. Behind the King, Phaedra, Catreus, and Deucalion were attempting to break the mood of the crowd. No doubt, they would suffer the King’s displeasure later on. The crowd took their cue and some began to join in. Others followed, and soon the arena was filled with the sounds of support and encouragement. It wasn’t as great as it had been for the other athletes, but it was more than enough for me.

The bull was ushered into the far side of the arena. It was a massive beast, much larger than any other I’d seen that day. Not only that, but it was white. Minos, in his none too subtle way, was sending me a message.

The bull was already in a lather. Someone had been working it up into a killing frenzy. It caught sight of me and immediately charged, giving me no time to plan my assault. As it got nearer, I finally noticed something else different. Its horns, more massive than my own, were uncovered. They glinted wickedly in the sun. This was not how it was supposed to be. I sensed the hand of Minos guiding events once again and knew his intention. He didn’t want me to leave the arena alive. He could get rid of his hated son without fear of reprisals from his family, the people of Crete, or Poseidon himself. Not that many would have likely cared if I died but even a king couldn’t kill his son without consequence.

Poseidon had decreed that I could not die at the hand of Minos but he said nothing about a bull. Minos’ hatred knew no bounds and he was prepared to risk it. Perhaps he thought that if I died in a supposed accident, Poseidon would not avenge my death. Minos was never the wisest of men. The gods may be many things but they are neither blind nor stupid.

The knowledge was sobering, but it also filled me with determination. Determination I’d never felt before. I would succeed here. I would show Minos and the people of Crete that there was more to me than just a lumbering, deformed giant. I would survive despite the intentions of my father.