Odysseus in the Serpent Maze (17 page)

“He’s still breathing,” said Mentor. “Use your belt to tie his hands behind his back,” Odysseus said. “Then we’ll lock him in the cell.”

“Isn’t anyone going to say thanks?” asked Helen.

The deed done, they hurried back up the stone corridor, only this time with their sandals on. Odysseus paused to pick up the heavy bronze sword. Mentor snatched a torch from the wall.

“Now, Helen, where’s that Labyrinth?” Odysseus asked. He wished the sword were lighter. He would need two hands to wield it.

Helen shrugged and spread her hands helplessly.

“I know where the Labyrinth is,” Praxios said. “Every Cretan knows. If only to avoid the place. It’s close to the dungeon so they don’t have far to transport prisoners.”

They followed the old man out through three more sets of doors, then down a grassy slope, and between a pair of broken pillars. There a flight of wide stone steps led down into the earth, disappearing into darkness. Surprisingly they passed no one—guards or otherwise—along the way.

When Odysseus commented on that, Praxios shook his head. “Why should they bother guarding it?” he said. “Who goes in doesn’t come out.”

“It shouldn’t be that hard to find the way back,” Odysseus said. “We can make marks on the walls and follow them out.”

“It’s not that simple,” Praxios told them. “Nothing the master ever did was simple. As soon as a person sets foot inside the Labyrinth, the whole thing changes.”

“Changes?” Helen asked. Her face went bone white under the Cretan powder.

“The very walls shift position,” Praxios said. He rubbed his hands together, as if in admiration of the craft.

“Then how did Theseus escape, with all the children of Athens?” Odysseus asked.

“Ah—Theseus. It’s
always
Theseus,” old Praxios said, his bird eyebrows fluttering. “The hero who escaped. I’ve never told the truth of it before, because we all need to believe in heroes, eh? Well, Theseus was not so much a hero, my children.”

Odysseus’ mouth turned down in a sour expression, but it was Mentor who asked, “If not a hero, then how did he escape?”

“Ah,” said Praxios brightly, “the master jammed the mechanism for him. Theseus was from Athens and so was Daedalus, who had been a prince there once. And pretty little Ariadne, Minos’ daughter, had fallen in love with Theseus. She was a particular pet of the Master’s. He did it for her.”

“I don’t suppose you know the secret for jamming it yourself?” Odysseus asked. He put down the heavy sword for a moment, letting it rest against his leg.

Praxios lifted his hands apologetically. “The Labyrinth is as much a mystery to me as you. I was only a boy when it was built.”

Odysseus looked down into the darkness and swallowed hard. He’d never told anyone, not even Mentor, but dark caves and tunnels made his stomach hurt. He preferred hunting monsters in the light.

Helen put a hand to her mouth. “We can’t leave Penelope …” Her voice trembled. Her eyes teared up. The black make-up around her eyes ran down her cheeks in streaks.

“We’re not leaving
anyone
down there,” said Mentor.

“Especially Penelope,” added Odysseus. He took a deep breath and lifted the sword again. His father once said that being brave was overcoming fear.
No fear
, he’d said,
no courage
. Odysseus admitted to himself that he was afraid.

No
, he thought suddenly,
not afraid
.
Terrified
.

He put that thought aside. There was another problem that had to be dealt with as well.

“Praxios,” Odysseus said, “where are the slave pens?”

“Down by the harbour,” Praxios said. “So they can be loaded and unloaded quickly. We do quite a trade in slaves.”

“Then,” Odysseus said, “you three go on down to the harbour. See if you can find Tros and his men.”

It was Mentor who guessed first. “You can’t mean to go into the Labyrinth alone, Odysseus. That’s crazy.”

“No sense all of us going in,” Odysseus said. If he was going to get weak-kneed in the cave, he certainly didn’t want anyone else to see. Besides, this was a good plan. If he managed to free Penelope, they couldn’t waste time trying to find the sailors and the boat. And if he didn’t get her out … well, at least Mentor and Helen could get off the island. “You need to free Tros and find his ship to get us all away from here. Trust me—your job will be harder than mine.”

Helen laid a hand on his arm. “Be careful, Odysseus.”

There was something in her eyes he’d never seen before. A real concern for someone other than herself. It brought out her true beauty and, for the first time, he knew he was seeing her as Mentor did. As men would see her for years to come.

“Thank you,” he said, and meant it.

Mentor handed him the torch silently. There were tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. Odysseus looked away before those tears called out his own.

Then he started down the steps, the heavy sword upraised in one hand, the flickering torch in the other. Halfway down he turned and looked back. Mentor was staring mournfully at him.

“Getting in is one thing,” Mentor said. “But you heard Praxios. No one who’s gone in has come—”

“I’ll worry about that when it’s time to leave.
With
Penelope,” Odysseus said. “Now—go!”

This time Odysseus didn’t look back. He continued down the stairs until reaching the bottom, where a long, black passage sloped underground. He rested the sword blade on his right shoulder and raised the torch.

“Athena, if you’re ever going to help me, help me now.”

Cautiously he advanced step by step, remembering the Cretan prophecy:
when maiden meets the horned beast at the heart of the Labyrinth, then will you find your heart’s desire
.

Just as he was pondering this, a huge block of stone crashed down behind him. The floor began to swivel. He realised that the entire passageway was revolving on some sort of axis.

Feeling seasick, his stomach lurching as the floor and walls moved on unseen rollers and wheels, Odysseus staggered a few feet forward, then steadied himself. Ahead were several long passages stretching away into darkness. Behind …

Behind, where there had been a passage, was a solid rock wall.

He held the torch up higher. There was nothing to indicate that any one way was better than any other, so he shrugged and set off at random, the sword against his shoulder even heavier than before.

The corridors bent to the left, then to the right, doubling back on themselves. Again and again Odysseus ran into dead ends, retraced his steps, only to feel the stone floor tip, roll and change.

I’m being herded
, he thought.
I’m being forced to choose a single path
. But there was nothing he could do about it. He went forward, he went backward, he went forward again.

Then ahead of him, he saw something humped up in the passageway. He held the sword out in front, the torch high, and ran forward. Anything to relieve the monotony of the place.

But he pulled up short when he saw what the hump really was: a human skeleton, its clothes shredded and stained with dried blood.

“Penelope,” he whispered, even as he saw that the skeleton wore a man’s tunic.

He stood very still, listening, the upraised sword trembling as his tired arm shook.

The Labyrinth was as silent as …

As a tomb.

“Not a good thought,” he told himself, and moved on.

He found a second skeleton. Then a third. He thought they might be old. That the beast who had ravaged them might be old. Might even be dead.

He wondered if he should call out to Penelope. To let her know he was looking for her.

“Stupid idea,” he whispered to himself. It would alert the beast.

He didn’t want to alert the beast.

And then he heard a sound from ahead in the dark corridor.

Clip.

Clop.

Clip.

An animal’s hooves on the stone floor.

Not dead, then
, he thought. Meaning the beast. Hoping he meant Penelope. He set down the torch and moved out of its light.

It was easier holding the sword in two hands. Much easier.

He held his breath and went around a bend in the passage.

Clip.

Clop.

He raised his sword in both hands and waited, his palms sweaty. He hoped the beast could not smell him.

But he could smell the beast now: musky stink of a meat eater.

The hoofbeats came closer.

They were almost on top of him.

Releasing all his fear in one horrific battle cry, he leaped out of hiding and swung the sword.

A bulky figure reeled back, dropped a little light, and avoided the bronze blade by inches.

“Great Paaaaaan!” the old satyr exclaimed. “Is that any waaaay to greet aaaan old friend?”

S
ILENUS PICKED UP A
bronze lamp from the Labyrinth floor. As he did so, the yellow flame cast flickering shadows over his little horns, making them look larger. For a moment he seemed as fearsome as any monster.

“
You’re
the horned beast?” Odysseus cried.

“I don’t know that I caaare for the term,” Silenus said, “but thaaaat’s whaaat the devil Deucalion caaaalled me.”

Odysseus let the heavy blade touch the ground. His arm was now aching. “By all the gods, how did you get here?” He was so relieved to see the old satyr, he didn’t even mind the stink.

“Those piraaaatical friends of yours were very persistent,” Silenus said. “They finally caught me taaaaking a naaaap in my caaaave. They draaaagged me on board aaaand brought me here, where the king bought me. A pretty price he paaaaid too.” There was a note of pride in his bleating voice. “A saaack full of gold aaaand jewels.”

Suddenly remembering the skeletons, Odysseus said, “How long have you been here?”

“Two or three daaaays,” Silenus answered uncertainly. “Deucalion supplied me with enough food to laaaast a week, or so he said. He underestimated my aaaappetite. It’s gone, aaaand I’ve filled the lamp with the laaaast of the oil he left me.”

“I have a torch,” Odysseus said, gesturing behind him. “Back there. But it won’t burn for long, either. Maybe we should just use one till the other is about to give out.”

“Good plaaaan,” the satyr said. “Do you have other plaaaans? You’re very good with plaaaans.” He smiled. It didn’t improve his looks.

“My only plan was to kill the horned beast, rescue Penelope, and get out of here as fast as I could,” said Odysseus.

Silenus nodded. “Good plaaaan,” he said. “Except for the killing.” He thought a minute. “Penelope is the pretty girl?”

“
I
think so,” said Odysseus.

“I thought I smelled something. Aaaa flowery perfume. I hoped it was a haaaandmaid of the gods. That’s where I was going now. Aaaa woman is better than food any daaaay. Though …” he sighed, “I could do with some food right now. Do you haaaave any?”

Odysseus shook his head.

“Well, then,” said the satyr, “it will haaaave to be the girl. Get your torch. With my nose”—and he laid a finger against his nostril—“we’ll find her soon enough.”

As soon as Odysseus had retrieved his torch, they moved off smartly together. The sound of the satyr’s hooves clippity-clopping kept echoing off the stone walls.

Every once in a while, Odysseus could feel the floors shift. Each time, when he turned around, the way behind was blocked. But as their journey went on, the shifts became fewer and fewer.

“We’re getting close to the centre of the maaaaze now,” Silenus explained. “It’s easier to find your waaaay. Nothing moves in the centre.”

“That’s good,” Odysseus said.

They came to an intersection, where Silenus paused for a few more sniffs. He nodded, turned right.

“Not faaaar,” he said. “Yes—look!”

Ahead in the semi-darkness, a burnt-out torch at her feet, a girl huddled against the wall. At the sound of Silenus’ hooves, she stood, picked up the torch, and held it above her head like a cudgel. She was wearing a Cretan dress only slightly less splendid than Helen’s, though spoiled from her time in the maze.

“You saaaaid she was the pretty one.” Silenus’ voice held disappointment.

Odysseus was so relieved to see Penelope alive, he blurted out, “She is to me.”

At his voice, Penelope ran over and threw her arms around his neck. “Merciful Athena! I thought the beast had come for me.”

“In aaaa manner of speaking …” Silenus said. “Though I’ve never
eaten
human flesh. A kiss or two was all I’d hoped for.”

Penelope let go of Odysseus and turned to the old satyr. Pulling his head down, she planted a kiss between his little horns.

He let out a contented bleat.

Then Penelope looked over at Odysseus. “Where’s Helen? Where’s Mentor?”

“They’re at the harbour trying to free my old captain and get us a ship.”

“Can we get out of here?”

“Easier saaaaid than done,” Silenus said. “I’ve been looking for a waaaay out these past few daaaays. Don’t suppose you brought a bit of thread along? So we caaaan see where we’ve been.”

“I could unweave a bit of my dress,” Penelope said, holding up the skirt. “It’s ugly anyway.”

“I’m not sure the Labyrinth will let us go backwards,” Odysseus said thoughtfully. “But maybe we should be going the other way.”

Penelope looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Remember the prophecy,” Odysseus said, leaning on the sword. “If we can get the two of you—maiden and horned beast—together in the centre of the maze, maybe we’ll fulfill the prophecy and get our heart’s desire.”

“My heart’s desire is to get out of here,” said Penelope.

“And mine,” added Odysseus.

“The centre …” the satyr said slowly. “Thaaaat maaaay not be so simple.”

Before Odysseus could ask what Silenus meant, a horrifying din came echoing through the stone passageways. It was a savage chorus of roars and snarls and hisses, like a pack of hungry beasts.

“What’s that?” Odysseus asked.

Penelope shivered. “That’s what I thought was the beast until you showed up with Silenus. I’ve heard that sound three times now.”