Minotaur (7 page)

“Now try again,” commanded Paris. “And this time, Asterion, try and show some spark.”

Androgeus moved in instantly for the kill. He knew my abilities by now, only too aware that I was much slower than him. He did, however, sometimes forget about my strength, which seemed to grow daily. Not only that, but he appeared a little confused by the club. He was used to facing me shield to shield, sword to sword. Normally, he’d use his usual tactics, blocking my shield and using his superior speed to strike like a snake.

This time he had no shield to block.

He thrust his shield forward. I knew what it was. A decoy. He thought I would attempt to block his shield thrust with my club, and then he would strike with his sword while I was distracted. This, I realized, would once again end in defeat. Instinct kicked in then. I did what came naturally. Holding the club in both hands, I swung mightily at his shield. A bestial roar emerged from my throat. I wasn’t angry—it just seemed like the right thing to do.

Nobody in the gymnasium that day expected to see what happened next.

By rights, the shield should’ve stopped my blow, at the very least deflect it. Instead, the club smashed into the shield with enough force to shatter it, blasting Androgeus off his feet. He lay before me stunned, looking up at me with what might have been fear. I felt confused. I wasn’t even sure what had happened. I had just channeled all my strength—strength I’d never properly used—into that one blow. I knew I was strong; I just didn’t know how strong.

I felt elated, invincible, powerful, but also I regretted that I’d possibly humiliated and angered Androgeus. Quickly, I dropped the club and extended a hand to my brother. He took it gratefully with a wry grin, and I let out a long breath of relief. He grasped my bicep with his other hand. It didn’t even cover a third of it.

“My, we are getting strong, aren’t we?” he said, clapping me on the back. All movement had ceased within the gymnasium. Glaucus, training with the son of a noble from a nearby city, Catreus, Deucalion, and some other sons of senior servants—all had frozen.

I blushed, lowering my head to conceal the rosy glow. The movement almost caused Androgeus to lose an eye to one of my horns. He released his grip, hastily moving backward.

“Good,” said Paris. It was the highest praise I’d ever heard spill from his mouth. “I think we’ve found you your weapon.”

We continued to train throughout the rest of the afternoon. Androgeus left to continue his training with the men. I was paired with Glaucus, who eyed me nervously. He was no match for me physically. In fact, Glaucus was no match for anyone physically. Both Ariadne and Phaedra consistently beat him in impromptu wrestling matches held in the gardens of the palace, much to his embarrassment.

Paris got us all to lay down our weapons, and we boxed and wrestled for the rest of the day. It wasn’t much of a workout, and it was quite unpleasant to lay hands on his flabby flesh. Even though I took it easy and wasn’t trying to hurt him, I somehow managed to blacken one of Glaucus’s eyes. I think I cracked one of his ribs too by throwing him gently to the ground. He protested hotly to Paris, who looked on unsympathetically.

“My father will hear of this,” he declared, glaring at me.

“Don’t you mean
our
father?” I asked.

“I meant what I said,” he shouted. “Haven’t you been listening to palace gossip? You’re illegitimate. Our mother fornicated with a bull. You’re no son of my father.”

I took a menacing step forward and was pleased to see Glaucus cower before me. Like him, I’d heard the rumors. It didn’t mean I liked them though. I’m not sure what I would’ve done then but for the intervention of Paris. Probably nothing pleasant.

“That’s enough,” said Paris, stepping between us. “Control your anger,” he said to me. “A warrior who loses his temper, loses his head.”

Behind him, I could see Glaucus smirking. Almost like he had eyes in the back of his head, Paris whirled on him. “Glaucus, close your stupid, fat mouth. If your father does hear of this, I’ll tell him the truth. That you fought badly, put no effort in whatsoever, used poor tactics, and generally complained like a child. In short, you’re a dog’s behind.”

That put Glaucus in his place. I tried not to grin, but catching the eye of Catreus and Deucalion, I couldn’t help it.

Glaucus saw. “You’ll regret this,” he spat at me. My grin widened, but I suddenly felt a little uneasy. No doubt he and Ariadne would plot some petty revenge. I’d have to be on my guard.

He stalked off, regardless of the fact that we still had at least another hour of training time left.

Paris strolled over. “Looks like we’ll have to find you another training partner,” he said and then burst out laughing.

Ω

Before supper, we all had to spend some time practicing with the lyre and flute. It was all part of becoming a well-rounded member of the ruling class. A leader who could write, spell, complete mathematical sums, fight, orate, and play musical instruments. Although why exactly that last one was important was beyond me. It was the only part of the day I truly detested.

My large fingers, fingers that felt comfortable and deft on the grip of my club, were incredibly clumsy—more so than usual. The others would laugh at my inept attempts to coerce something resembling music from my instrument. The discordant sounds were reminiscent more of animals fighting or mating than actual music. I even caught Phaedra laughing on occasions, unable to stop herself. I didn’t blame her. In her position, I probably would’ve reacted in the same way.

Ariadne and Phaedra were of course both quite excellent, the skill being more important for them apparently. They were forced to practice during their afternoon sessions in addition to learning how to be a dutiful housewife. Phaedra informed me that she would have to play for her husband’s guests once she was married.

Catreus and Deucalion played with passable skill, while Androgeus played both instruments with his usual competence. Glaucus was a surprise. His chubby fingers were quite agile as they danced over the strings of the lyre. But, it was Icarus who was the true revelation. He played the flute like someone born to it. He began to surpass even the skills of his tutor and became largely self-taught. When he played for us, I watched him carefully. He would close his eyes, completely lost in the music. Only when he finished would he become aware of his audience, shaking his head like a dog clearing a vivid dream from his head. I discovered a newfound respect for him.

It was later that same evening, long after our evening meal, when I was summoned before my mother. Even though I sought out opportunities to see her, our daily routines were so busy that I didn’t get to see her with the same frequency as I had when I was young. I missed her.

Every time I saw her, however, she seemed to age. It was almost like having her children around her kept her young. Now that they didn’t need her as much, she seemed to shrink and collapse within herself. Not that she still wasn’t beautiful and vibrant, but she had become less so, which saddened me.

“You wanted to see me, Mother,” I said, lightly brushing my lips against her check, careful not to let one of my horns graze her face.

“Asterion, my beloved son,” she said, holding me close. “I don’t get to see you nearly enough these days.”

“I know, Mother,” I replied. “Our tutors keep us busy.”

“Yes, I’ve heard. Take a seat.” I pulled up a stool and perched next to her where she sat on a couch. From our vantage point, we could see the sea shining brightly under the glowing orb of a full moon. I found her looking at me sharply, but I could see the humor behind her eyes.

“I heard about you and Androgeus today. I also heard about you and Glaucus. It seems you’re becoming a man.”

I nodded, unwilling to meet her gaze. I didn’t exactly feel good knowing I’d harmed or potentially harmed her other sons. My brothers.

“And a man has a right to know who his father is. His true father.”

My heart skipped a beat. My breathing suddenly quickened, like I’d just been running. This was the knowledge promised me, the knowledge that Phaedra had hinted at. Knowledge that I wasn’t sure I wanted. I desperately wanted to fit in with my other brothers and sisters. If a new revelation served to make me different, then I’d probably rather not know.

I had long ignored palace rumor and gossip as the work of idle mouths. Yes, my horns were an oddity but no more so than someone born with an extra finger or toe. They were just more obvious. There was no way I could be the son of a bull. That was absolutely ridiculous.

“My father is the King,” I said. “Minos.”

Pasiphae pursed her lips. “Is that what you want to believe? That your father is that man? The same man who beat you because of an accident? The same man who shuns his wife in favor of harlots he finds in nearby villages?”

I didn’t know what to say to that. My mother had always had a tongue much better suited to oration and debate than I.

Pasiphae saw the confusion clearly etched on my face. “If your concern is that your father is the white bull, then wipe that from your mind. Can you imagine me mating with a bull? Even with the assistance of Daedalus, the act would’ve been impossible.”

I knew she was right. Oddly, the white bull had disappeared not long after my birth. One of my regrets is that I never got to see it for myself. I presumed my father had dealt with it to disperse persistent rumors.

“No, my son. Your father is a much greater man than Minos. In fact, much greater than any man. He’s not even really a man. Your father is a god.”

“What?” I exclaimed, jerking to my feet in shock.

“Your father is Poseidon, god of the sea.”

I stood there, a mass of turbulent emotion, unable to speak, my mouth open like a dullard. My father a god? Was it true? Of course it was. I felt the truth of it. And why would my mother lie to me? She never had before.

“But how?” I exclaimed when I recovered my wits, sinking slowly back onto my stool.

“Poseidon appeared to Minos as a white bull, a bull he was meant to sacrifice to him as a sign of his loyalty and respect. Your father, being who is he, decided not to. Poseidon punished him by seducing me. Not that there was much seduction going on. A god is hard to resist.” My mother looked wistful for a moment, remembering the events of long ago.

“One moment he was a bull, the next, a beautiful man. I didn’t even count it as a betrayal. I knew Minos was having affairs with other women, so why couldn’t I? At least I didn’t lower myself to sleep with common villagers.”

A thought suddenly occurred to me. A happy thought. “That means that Phaedra isn’t my sister,” I said, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief flood through my body. I’d often thought my feelings for her were inappropriate. It was a joyous thought to discover that we weren’t related.

“No,” said my mother. “She is the product of your father’s amorous affections on giggling, dim witted, large breasted village girls. Your other brothers and sisters are still related of course. They are merely your half siblings.”

I felt relieved by that too. The thought that Androgeus was not my brother would’ve saddened me.

“But,” said Pasiphae, “this knowledge comes with a warning. You are the son of a god, and you’ll be a target for others as such. Not just mortals either. You will also have to be careful with your power. You will find that you are stronger than other men. This is not to say you are superior. Digest this knowledge humbly.”

“What about my horns?” I asked.

Pasiphae smiled. “That was to remind Minos of his arrogance. You will always be around to remind him. That is why he hates you so. One day soon, you must leave this place before his hatred manifests into something more. I know him. I know how the knowledge of my betrayal gnaws at his heart. Soon, it will be too much for him to bear, and he will have no choice but to remove that reminder.”

“Leave this place?” I said, aghast. “But this is my home.”

My mother placed a gentle hand on my arm. “It will always be your home but still you must leave. Not now, but soon. This will give you time for you to become acquainted with your heritage, to achieve mighty deeds. Then and only then, will you be free from the rage of Minos.”

I nodded slowly, digesting the facts, knowing my mother was right. I still remembered the look on Minos’s face after he’d struck me. I had never known someone so cold before.

“When shall I go?” I asked. “Where?”

“You will know the time,” she said, smiling gently at me. “Perhaps the gods will send you a sign. Maybe even your father himself. As for where, that is for you to decide. Come,” she said. “Give your mother another embrace.”

I did so, hugging her more tightly than I’d ever hugged anyone. So tightly that I felt like I’d crush her. I didn’t want to release her, now that I knew my time with her was limited.

Eventually, she pushed away and looked me full in the face. “Know one more thing, my son. No matter what happens, no matter what you do, no matter what anyone says, I will always love you. You are my son. My precious boy. You will always be my precious boy.”

I have always felt more comfortable alone than in the presence of others. Even though I welcomed the companionship offered by Phaedra and most of my brothers, I often preferred solitude. Perhaps it was because of my horns. They always made me feel different. I often felt self-conscious of them, and being with others made me only too aware of how different I was.

Sometimes, on rare occasions when I wasn’t obliged to train or study, I would sit in an isolated spot under one of the trees in the palace gardens, completely alone with my thoughts. Occasionally, I would take some food—perhaps some bread or fruit—which I would munch on distractedly, often sharing it with the birds.

I must’ve been around fourteen when I encountered the first of my two animal friends.

It was a mangy dog, half-starved with a dirty dull brown coat. I don’t know how he managed to get into the gardens without being chased away by one of the gardeners or guards, but there he was.