Minotaur (12 page)

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said. “You don’t know the first thing about boats. You’ll drown before you even lose sight of this island.” I felt relieved and slightly selfish. She was right—I couldn’t handle a boat by myself. But equally, I didn’t want Phaedra to give up her life for me. She had it good here. The King loved her in his own strange way. She’d be married off soon and have a life where she wanted for nothing. But, as usual, Phaedra had her own ideas.

“Well,” I asked, wisely choosing not to argue further. “Where’s this boat then?” It still hadn’t appeared. The sea below us was devoid of anything floating.

“It’s not coming,” said a voice behind us.

We turned as one to see Icarus forcing himself through the concealed entrance. He knelt down behind him and began dragging something out. Anything else I was about to say dried up immediately when I saw what it was.

Ω

“All set?” asked Androgeus. He tried to smile reassuringly at me, but I could tell it was forced. He was as worried as I was.

He and Icarus had helped me don the wings. There was a lot of adjustment necessary, given that they had been originally designed for Icarus himself, but eventually we got there. I flapped them experimentally. They felt light and flimsy. I was having some serious misgivings about this whole thing, tempted to tear them off and give up.

“This is ridiculous,” said Phaedra. She sat on the ground nearby, refusing to help with such a misguided venture. “I’ll find us another boat.”

“I doubt that,” said Androgeus. Icarus had already told them that any fishing boats, or in fact anything floating, were now guarded by the King’s men. He’d overheard the guards talking as he made his escape through the tunnel.

“I still think he’s going to wind up dead,” said Phaedra. She rose to her feet and faced me. She was so close I could smell the sweet scent of her perfume. I desperately wanted to gather her into my arms, but that was now almost impossible. Not to mention awkward.

“Don’t do it,” she pleaded. “We’ll think of something else. We can hide together, you and I. We’ll find a way off the island.”

“There’s no other option,” I said. “I have to do this.”

Androgeus was staring back toward the palace. “Someone’s coming,” he declared.

I turned to look. I could see the light of several torches in the distance. They looked to be heading in our direction.

“It’s the King’s guard,” said Icarus. “They probably found the tunnel but I collapsed it behind me. Only a fool wouldn’t be able to be able to guess where it came out though.”

“It’s now or never,” said Androgeus. He moved Phaedra aside and embraced me. “Good luck, brother. I’ll see you again. I know it.”

I nodded mutely, clumsily trying to return the embrace, hampered by my wings. He tucked the sack into my belt. I already knew what it contained, and it was much lighter now than it was before. Icarus had insisted that the less weight, the better. Food was the first thing to be removed, followed by some items of clothing, a short stabbing sword, and some other sundry items deemed to be unnecessary.

Only a small purse of money, a flask of water, and a fishing line remained. Androgeus had had the foresight to bring my helm. It was too cumbersome to put in the sack, so he set it on my head instead, strapping it into place but leaving the faceplate undone.

Icarus approached and grasped my hand in a clumsy warriors grip. It was an awkward gesture given that he was no warrior, but he tried and that was enough.

“Thank you,” I managed. “For everything.”

“Just remember you have to tell me all about it,” said Icarus. “Don’t forget to tilt the wings for more lift.”

“How am I meant to steer?” I asked belatedly. It was a bit late for that, but the thought had only just occurred to me.

“Use your legs,” he replied mysteriously.

I didn’t have a chance to question him further. Phaedra was in my arms, weeping softly. “Don’t go,” she said one more time. “I want us to be together.”

I enfolded her in my winged arms. “I have to. You know I do. I will return one day. I’ll come for you. Will you and the others be all right without me? Minos … ”

“Don’t worry about us,” she said. “Our father won’t dare punish Androgeus. He’ll be King one day. I’ll bat my eyes prettily at him and say it was all my idea. That’ll get Icarus off the hook. You just worry about yourself.”

“If you don’t go now, you won’t be going anywhere,” said Androgeus, a note of worry in his voice. “They’re almost here.”

He was right. I could see the bronze glint beneath the torches. The King’s guard was almost upon us.

I kissed Phaedra softly, and then gently pushed her away and moved to stand on the edge of the cliff. I looked back at the three of them, trying to burn their images in my mind. It might be the last time I saw them. My gaze lingered on Phaedra. She looked so beautiful and so sad. With an effort, I tore my eyes from her and took stock of the task at hand.

“Look for me in Athens,” said the voice of my brother. “I’ll be at the games in three months. Poseidon be with you and watch over you.”

I certainly hoped so. I needed every bit of help I could get. I sucked in a huge breath, flexed my thick legs, and jumped. It really was one of the stupidest things I have ever done. In hindsight, I should’ve listened to Phaedra.

Ω

“You flew then!” asked Ovid, his eyes wide.

“You will have to wait and see,” said Ast patiently. “I think this is a good time to have a break. You certainly look like you could use one.”

It was true. Ovid was suffering. When he’d awoken, simply raising his head off the pillow had been an effort. His head had swam, and he’d felt a little nauseous. He’d put his head back on the pillow and tried to go back to sleep, but it was hopeless. Outside the tiny uncovered window, the sun had already risen. The bright light had done nothing for Ovid’s hangover or his already irritable temperament.

Accustomed to overindulgence, Ovid knew he had a remarkable capacity for wine. Many had commented over it. Indeed, few men could match his ability to consume it. Like any true alcoholic, Ovid rarely suffered from debilitating hangovers. He got them, sure, but only mild versions. They were never like this. This was something special.

He really had overdone it the previous night. So engrossed had he been by the story, he’d hardly noticed that he’d emptied two full skins of wine.

“Perhaps a little fresh air would clear my head,” he admitted grumpily. Ast accompanied him as he stumbled outside.

When he had first awoken, he had been a little disorientated. After finally levering himself out of bed, the enormity of where he was and who he was with threatened to overwhelm him. Sitting down on the bed again, he had slowly become aware of his surroundings.

The windowsill had a delicate little pot sitting on it. Inside were white flowers. Ovid, a poet and scholar in the truest sense of the word, always interested in the details that would give a sense of reality to his writing, knew they were sea daffodils.

Strange, he’d thought. In his experience, men who lived alone rarely adorned their homes with such, well, feminine things. Now a confirmed bachelor with three broken marriages behind him, he could say he was almost an expert. When he’d lived with his wives, often the home they shared would be decorated with flowers and the like. Since then, he couldn’t remember a time that flowers had ever graced his windowsill.

“Are you sure you live alone?” he asked, breathing deeply.

Ast eyed him strangely. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

Ovid shrugged. “The flowers in your bedroom. Don’t see that very often in a man’s home. Almost suspected you were hiding someone from me for a moment there.”

Ast allowed the remark to pass without comment.

Ovid sucked in a few more deep breaths. There was a large ceramic pot outside the door filled with fresh water. He dunked his head in until he could hold his breath no longer and then surfaced, spraying water in every direction. Drying himself with a cloth provided by Ast and feeling a little better for his efforts, he declared himself almost human and fit to continue.

They resumed their seats at the table.

“A few questions,” said Ovid. “How did Daedalus know what poison it was?”

“He didn’t,” said Ast. “He guessed. Daedalus wasn’t just a master craftsman. His knowledge was extremely broad. I have never met anyone more knowledgeable. He travelled widely and, as I mentioned, had seen similar effects before. It didn’t really matter what poison was used though. The effect was important. I was very lucky I didn’t die.”

“Did you see Phaedra again?”

Ast nodded. “I did, but I will come to that part of my story in due course.”

“Not really helping me a whole lot here,” grumbled Ovid. “What about the helmet? It does, I confess, intrigue me. Why didn’t you use it more often? Do you still have it? Can I see it?”

“I will answer all your questions eventually, but you will have to be patient,” rumbled Ast.

Ovid could see that his large companion was losing patience, but Ovid’s curiosity was getting the better of him. Despite his initial misgivings, he was really starting to see Ast as the fabled Minotaur of legend. Could it be true? It was an unbelievable story but somehow it had the ring of truth to it. Not only that, but Ast oozed sincerity. He was a hard man not to believe.

Being a little drunk seemed to help swallow such an unlikely tale. Maybe more wine? Hair of the dog that bit you and all that. He was confident that a few goblets of wine would get rid of his lingering hangover and his doubts.

He poured himself one as Ast resumed his story.

In hindsight, I was just a boy, ignorant, naïve, stupid. Boys have a tendency to act before thinking. Consequences are rarely considered. Stupid boys do stupid things. Despite my fear, I thought it would work. It didn’t really occur to me that it wouldn’t. Like Icarus, I had thought of flight. His design seemed sound to me. He was far smarter than I, and so I had the greatest confidence in him.

Unfortunately, the wings had never been tested. Certainly not on someone of my weight and size. Icarus got many things wrong, things he corrected later on in life to his ultimate loss. His later success cost him his life, as you probably know.

I wouldn’t have survived but for the favor of my father, Poseidon. As soon as I flung myself from the cliff face, I became airborne above the sea, Poseidon’s domain. In or above the sea, Poseidon could defy the laws of nature, the laws of physics. I know this now because he later told me. At the time, of course, I didn’t credit him, putting my survival down to Icarus’s clever construct.

At first, I thought I was going to die. I plunged headfirst toward the waiting sea. The speed was immense. To my shame, I screamed, the noise emerging as a roar of fear. Just before I plunged to my death, a mighty wind suddenly sprung up, blasting into my wings and catapulting me into the night sky.

I soared then. A feeling of power overcame me, freedom. Joy. My one regret was that I had not had the chance to look back. I wondered for a fleeting moment what was happening to Phaedra, Androgeus, and Icarus. I hoped they wouldn’t be punished too severely. The thought was pushed aside by my elation. I had never imagined that flight could be like this.

High across the wine dark Cretan sea I flew, kept aloft by a divine wind pushing me northward. Daedalus had given us enough geography lessons for me to have some understanding of the journey I faced. The immensity of it. If I continued in this direction, eventually I would reach the islands of the Aegean. Thirty leagues would take me to the first inhabited island, Thera. After that, I had no idea how I would get to the mainland. As I said, I was just a boy. There were many islands scattered throughout the Aegean. I had a vague idea that I would simply fly from one to the next, stopping only to eat and drink before continuing my journey to the mainland.

Reality and perhaps fate unfortunately interceded. After several hours of thoroughly enjoyable flight, my arms started to ache and my great strength to ebb. I didn’t know how much longer I would be able to hold them out. Not only that, but my endurance was already seriously taxed by the poison that I had only just overcome. On top of that, I was exhausted. My eyelids began to flutter tiredly.

At that moment, Poseidon once again took an interest in me.

The wind dropped so suddenly that before I was even aware of it, I was plummeting toward the waiting sea. I flapped my arms desperately, but they were too weak. I plunged into the water with a mighty splash. The water wasn’t cold, but it was sufficient to revive me. I surfaced, spluttering, flailing wildly with my arms. The impact had torn the wings from me. I paddled over to them and made a raft of sorts. This was fortunate. As I have already mentioned, I had no affinity with the sea. Unlike Phaedra, I couldn’t swim.

The wings gave me buoyancy. I collapsed onto them, resting my face on my arms, my legs dangling in the water. I don’t know how long I slept for but I did, lulled by the gentle lapping of the waves. I didn’t stop to think about how lucky I had been. Normally, the Cretan sea was churned up into ship destroying waves by storms at this time of year. My true father had once again smiled upon me.

I was woken by something brushing against my naked feet. I was dreaming about Phaedra at the time. As first, I thought it was part of my dream and smiled lazily. Then, I felt a second impact. I awoke with a start. Something was in the sea beneath me.

Just then, a fin emerged, slicing through the water. A shark! I panicked, my frantic motions causing me to lose my grip on my wings. I sank beneath the water, my helmet and heavy body dragging me down. I tried to thrash to the surface, but I was weak. I considered discarding my helmet but was reluctant to do so. It was that or drown, though. Frantically, I began to fumble with the straps.

Suddenly, a massive dark shape appeared at my side, sliding under my arm and lifting me up to the surface. I was too exhausted to protest, waiting for the shark to finish me off. It was just toying with me. My head brushed against its smooth flanks. Wait! Smooth flanks. Even with my limited experience, I knew sharks didn’t have smooth bodies. I had felt them at the fish markets. I’d even eaten a shark. I knew their skin was rough with thousands of tiny teeth. A brush like that would’ve taken the skin off my face.