Minotaur (6 page)

Reluctantly, Catreus produced the offending article— a wooden horse that he and Deucalion had been playing with. Daedalus palmed it and then placed it in one of the many pockets adorning his tunic.

“Now then,” he said, addressing the entire class. “Who has a solution to the problem?”

There was silence. Now there are two types of silences in a classroom. There is the silence when students are baffled into speechlessness, and then there is the silence where the answer wants to spring forth, but it is just too embarrassed or self-conscious. This was the second kind.

Apart from myself and the twins, almost all of my brothers and sisters were present. Icarus, Daedalus’s son, was there too, although he contributed little or nothing to any discussion. He was a little older than I, about the same age as Androgeus, but where Androgeus was tall and strong with an athlete’s build, Icarus was frail, with long spindly arms and legs. He didn’t speak much either, content to bury his long nose in a bunch of papyrus.

I’m sure Daedalus was very proud of him in many ways—foremost being his interest in scholarly pursuits—but he wasn’t the easiest person to talk to. I’d tried a few times, but he was even more awkward and nervous in the company of others than even I. In fact, I’d only seen him rarely before Daedalus was appointed our tutor, schooled by his father in their private chambers.

Androgeus had been present earlier before being called away for training with the shield, sword, and spear. He was sixteen now, four years older than I, and lately he’d been devoting himself more to the physical pursuits than anything else. I had been seeing less and less of him. The Panathenaic games were only two years away, and Androgeus was one of Crete’s hopefuls. Held in Athens every four years, the games celebrated physical excellence. Androgeus hoped to enter both the wrestling and the marathon. Even though I was happy for him, I missed his presence.

I couldn’t bear the silence any more. I felt some answers bubbling away within me. If I held onto them any longer, I’d burst.

“Lift,” I said. Phaedra, sitting next to me, turned to me and raised her eyebrows. Even though I usually felt like I understood what Daedalus was saying, I often kept my mouth shut, unwilling to give Ariadne an opportunity to humiliate me. Despite being vain and nasty, Ariadne had a quick mind. Equipped with a sharp tongue, it was a fearsome combination.

“Explain yourself,” said Daedalus. His top lip quirked ever so slightly, an indication that he’d just heard something amusing. I smiled back nervously. I liked Daedalus but he wasn’t above chastising me in front of the others if I said something stupid.

“In order to fly, an object needs lift,” I said. I cast a hurried glance in the direction of Ariadne. I couldn’t help myself. To my relief, she wasn’t smiling. Instead, her eyebrows were knitted together in concentration, staring at me intently. With a grunt of irritation, she began scribbling furiously on the papyrus in front of her. Even from a few paces away, I could tell much of it was nonsense. A horrendous waste of papyrus given that it was a rare and expensive commodity. But then again, we were the children of the King. Well, most of us anyway.

To demonstrate, I stood. “I just used lift to force myself off my chair.”

“Yes, but you’re hardly flying,” sneered Ariadne.

“Ariadne,” said Daedalus sharply. “Confine your observations to ones that are relevant.”

Next to me, Phaedra chuckled as Ariadne blushed bright red.

“But that was relevant,” protested Ariadne. “He’s not flying. What has lift got to do with flying?”

“Asterion is right in some respects. In others, not so,” said Daedalus, bursting my bubble of joy over Ariadne’s discomfort. “Phaedra, have you got something to add?”

Phaedra nodded slowly. “I think I do,” she said finally. She stood next to me and lifted one of the pieces of papyrus in front of her. She held it flat on her palm and then gave it a little push upwards. The papyrus fluttered upwards for a moment before slowly spiraling down to the floor. “See how the push I gave it caused the papyrus to float? I think Asterion was on to something. I believe lift is one of the things an object needs to fly—but there must be others.”

Daedalus nodded. “Good, Phaedra. It’s pleasing to see that at least someone has been listening all this time. Glaucus, you seem to be very quiet. Anything to add?”

Glaucus started, clearly not concentrating on anything rather than what was going on his head. Probably lunch, I thought. Lately, Glaucus had been putting on weight. Not surprising. He did little exercise and ate prodigious amounts of food. “I agree with Ariadne,” he said automatically.

Phaedra and I unsuccessfully repressed laughter. It was what Glaucus always said.

Like Ariadne moments before, Glaucus blushed.

We spent several minutes discussing various ideas relating to the dilemma posed by Daedalus and then took a more hands-on approach, trying out our ideas using the papyrus in front of us. I enjoyed myself, as did most of the others in the class. Daedalus was an excellent teacher. Even Ariadne and Glaucus were engaged. The twins, happy to have something more physical to do, were in their element.

Daedalus eventually declared it was lunchtime. As we shuffled out, I felt a light touch on my tunic. I turned to find Icarus standing next to me.

“You have some good ideas,” he said very softly, almost like he didn’t want the others to hear. Perhaps he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. “I’d like to discuss those with you sometime,” he said shyly. “If you’d like, we could talk about your horns, too. I have many questions.”

I nodded. “That would be … good,” I finished lamely. I didn’t actually relish the opportunity to spend more time with Icarus—I’d rather use what free time I had with Phaedra—but I could hardly say no. It must’ve been hard for him. He had no friends to speak of and was probably lonelier than I. At least I had Phaedra, Androgeus, and my mother.

It was an awkward moment, but fortunately for me, Phaedra saved me, grabbing my arm. “Come on,” she said. “I’m starving.”

“Do you want to join us?” I asked Icarus, blurting it out without thinking. It wasn’t my place to ask him. He was, after all, the son of a servant. Daedalus, for all his standing, was still an employee of my father. Normally, Icarus and Daedalus ate with the other senior servants in the palace. Servants didn’t eat with the sons and daughters of the King. I’d probably get in trouble but I didn’t care. It felt like it was the right thing to say.

Icarus’s lip quirked. It was only then, with that expression, that I could see the resemblance to his father. “No,” he said hastily looking quickly in the direction of Daedalus. “Father wouldn’t approve.”

I nodded. It was probably for the best. I had overstepped my authority in any case.

Phaedra led me away. “That was nice,” she said. “Not very clever, but nice.”

“Not clever?” I asked, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you had no right to ask him to join us. Father would hear of it. Do you really want that?”

I shook my head slowly, raising my finger to trace the scars on my check. They had healed well, but I would always bear the mark of my father’s displeasure. “I just thought he could do with some friends.”

“There are plenty of children our age in the palace that aren’t royalty. He can be friends with them. Besides, did you see the look he gave Daedalus? I’d imagine he’d get in trouble with his father if he joined us.”

Phaedra was right. As usual. She was much wiser than I.

Now that we were getting older, our daily lives were much more structured. We had routines. Failure to comply meant instant punishment. I, already having been on the receiving end of such punishment, did everything I could to obey both the letter—if not the spirit—of the instructions given by our tutors.

Our day started at dawn with an hour’s run. Glaucus struggled with this of course, and I often saw him sneaking away or taking short cuts. After that was five hours of unbroken tutelage at the hands of Daedalus. He taught us all manner of things, but his special interests lay in mathematics, physics, philosophy, and history, which suited me fine. Although I was not much of an orator, I excelled in these subjects. Daedalus was particularly interested in the practical applications of mathematics and physics. He had a large workshop in an outlying building not far from the palace, and I loved to watch him work. When I had the time, that is, which wasn’t nearly as often as I would’ve liked.

After lunch, the boys and girls were separated. Much to Phaedra’s disgust, she and Ariadne retired to my mother’s quarters, learning how to manage and run a household and perfect other skills required to serve our father, and later, their husbands. Skills such as cooking, knitting, and weaving. My mother, Pasiphae, was also an accomplished healer, and she taught the girls much of what she knew. Phaedra, I knew, enjoyed this aspect of her education almost as much as Ariadne hated it. Both my mother and Phaedra even passed on some of their healing knowledge to me.

Although she enjoyed the healing arts, Phaedra would have much preferred to spend the afternoons training with me and my brothers, but my father had other plans. As much as he loved Phaedra and Ariadne (or as much as a man like him could love), his two daughters were valuable commodities to be sold or traded off to the highest bidder in Greece or to one of the rulers of the many islands scattered amongst the sparkling Aegean.

In this, Ariadne confused me. She made no protests at all regarding this type of education. Phaedra told me that Ariadne enjoyed all domestic tasks, approaching them with vigor and enthusiasm—traits Phaedra lacked. It seemed that Ariadne’s great goal in life was to be married off to some powerful ruler’s son and then manipulate him for her own ends and ultimate satisfaction.

As for us boys, the afternoons were a mixture of pain, excitement, triumph, and the occasional humiliation. For Glaucus, it was mostly the latter. He approached our training sessions in the gymnasium with the same amount of enthusiasm he used for our early morning run. That is to say—precisely none. He was constantly derided and criticized by our tutors, and it made him even more bitter and petty than he was already. Icarus was excused from such activity, his life already being mapped out as a scholar.

For Androgeus, myself, Catreus, and Deucalion, our sessions in the gymnasium were mostly thrilling, times we’d look forward to with some anticipation. Make no mistake; it was not easy, but for me especially, it was easier than most.

Our tutors drilled us in wrestling, boxing, and the use of the shield, spear, and sword. Androgeus, who’d had a few years head start by the time our younger brothers and I entered the gymnasium, was already well accomplished in all these pursuits.

By the time I was twelve, I was almost man sized, with the strength to match. Because of this, Androgeus and I were often paired up—when he wasn’t training with the men. I was as tall as him by now but much broader through the hip and chest, with arms and legs to match. Androgeus was slimmer, graceful, and much more agile.

The differences were clearly apparent in the heat of the midafternoon sun. We were naked to the waist, our torsos covered in sweat, our lower halves concealed by simple kilts.

Our weapons tutor was a man known as Paris. Not the same Paris that later abducted Helen of Troy starting the Trojan War, but a different Paris. This Paris was a grizzled man with a graying beard in his late middle age. He was still hale and hearty with muscles like corded oak, a veteran of hundreds of battles across mainland Greece and Northern Africa. He was a hard taskmaster but fair.

“Asterion. Stop gathering wool. Concentrate. You won’t block anything that way.” He marched up to me, clipped me smartly on the head with his bare hand, adjusted my shield grip, and then stepped back. Androgeus and I looked at him expectantly.

“Well!” he roared. “Don’t just stand there. Fight for Zeus’s sake!”

Androgeus and I went at it with a will. The shields were real enough but our swords were only wood. When Androgeus trained with the men, they trained with bronze weapons. Androgeus had the scars to show for it.

Although I enjoyed physical exercise, I never felt comfortable hurting anyone. I had a gentle disposition and rarely got angry. Paris despaired of ever turning me into a warrior. I lacked the ferociousness and passion of a truly great fighter.

I warded off a blow from Androgeus. It clattered harmlessly off my bronze embossed shield, sliding down. I took advantage of the fact that he was momentarily off balance and swung wildly at his head. I missed. In fact, I wasn’t even close. Androgeus didn’t bother to raise his shield; my blow was that clumsy. With agility that was quite mesmerizing, Androgeus blocked my shield with his and then slid under it, poking the wooden point of his sword right where my heart was.

“Asterion!” shouted Paris. “You son of a motherless goat. That was useless. Not only that, you’re dead.”

Androgeus grinned at me. “You almost had me then,” he said encouragingly.

“Don’t tell lies, Androgeus,” growled Paris. “You’ll only give him a false sense of confidence, which will kill him on the battlefield. And there’s nothing worse than a man whose confidence outweighs his ability.” He shook his head, grabbed my shield, and yanked it away from my numb fingers. “Put your sword down, we’ll try something different.”

I did what Paris ordered. “I don’t think the sword and shield suit you,” continued Paris. “You’re big and strong, and you’ll get more so with time. But slow with it. I think we’ll give you a weapon to match.” He thought for a moment and then marched over to the weapons rack, selecting a wooden club.

He threw it to me. I almost missed it, which would’ve been incredibly embarrassing. My reflexes were not like those of Androgeus. As it was, I just managed to grasp the handle of the club before it hit me in the head.

Like me, it was a clumsy thing, large and unwieldy, as long as my arm, and thick at one end, tapering down to a size that I could just grasp. It felt good in my hand though, almost like it belonged there. I’d heard rumors lately of a hero using a weapon like this. Heracles. On the mainland, he’d reportedly accomplished great and heroic deeds with such a weapon.