Daedalus said: “The King sent me today, when he could have come himself, or else had you brought before him.”
“On what er-rand?”
“Not to renew old arguments.” Daedalus spat into the White Bull’s moat and watched critically as the spittle was borne along toward the splash gutter at the side. He was proud of his waterworks and liked to see them operating properly. “Among today’s Athenians is one whose coming poses problems for us all.” He identified Theseus, and outlined Minos’ concern for his alliance with Aegeus. “The young man is probably here at least in part because his father wants him kept out of possible intrigues at home. Minos said nothing of the kind to me, but I heard it between the words of what he said.”
“I think I un-der-stand, Dae-dal-us. Yet I can but try to im-part knowledge to this young man. If he can-not or will not learn, I can-not cert-i-fy that he has. Else what I have cert-i-fied of o-ther stu-dents be-comes suspect.”
“In this case, surely, an exception might be made.”
They argued this point for a while, Daedalus getting nowhere. Until the White Bull suddenly offered that something might be done to make Theseus’ way easier, if Daedalus himself were to enroll as a student again.
Daedalus was angry. “Minos will really be displeased with you if I bear back the message that you want me to spend my next four years studying rather than working for my King.”
“E-ven stu-dy-ing half time, one with a mind like yours may learn in three years what a mere-ly ex-cell-ent stu-dent learns in four.”
The man was silent, holding in, like an old soldier at attention.
“Why do you re-sist me, Dae-dal-us? Not rea-lly be-cause you fear your mind will crack be-neath the bur-den of my trea-sures. Few e-ven of the poor stu-dents have this hap-pen.”
Daedalus relaxed suddenly. He sat down on the fine stone pavement and was able to smile and even chuckle. “Oh great White Bull, whenever I see man or god approaching to do me a favor, a free good turn, I do a good turn for myself and flee the other way. Through experience I have acquired this habit, and it lies near the roots of whatever modest stock of wisdom I possess.”
There was at first no answer from the creature on the high inhuman chair, and Daedalus pressed on. “Because I can learn something, does that mean I must? Should I not count the price?”
“There is no price, for you.”
“Bah.”
“What is the price for a man who stum-bles up-on great trea-sure, if he sim-ply bend and pick it up?”
“A good question. I will think upon it.”
“But the cost to him is all the treasure, if he re-fuse e-ven to bend.”
HE KNEW he had no particular skill in intrigue, and was afraid to do anything but carry the whole truth back to Minos. The King of course gave him no way out, and next Daedalus was forced to enroll. He had no black sail to hoist, but simply walked to the White Bull’s apartments again and said, “Well, here I am.”
“Good.” He could not tell if the Bull was gloating. “First, a re-fresh-er course.” And shortly Daedalus was walking into a classroom where Theseus and Phaedra sat side by side among other young folk. Daedalus took his place on a bench, endured some curious glances, and waited, gnarled and incongruous, until the Bull entered and began to teach.
This was not instruction in the human way. Daedalus knew that he and his fellow students still sat rooted to their benches, with the tall shaggy figure of the Bull before them. But there came with the sudden clarity of lightning a vision in which he seemed to have sprung upward from the ground, flying at more than arrow-speed into the blue. The Labyrinth and the House of the Double Axe dropped clear away, and his view carried over the whole fair isle of Crete. Its mountains dwindled and flattened, soon became almost at one with the fields and orchards, and very quickly the sea was visible on every side. Other islands popped into view, and then the jagged mainland of Greece. Then the whole Mediterranean, with a sunspot of glare on it bigger than lost Crete itself; then Europe and much of Africa, and then a hemisphere—the shared experience was too much for some of the students, and there were outcries and fain tings around Daedalus. He was a little shaken himself, though he had seen this much during his previous enrollment.
Eventually the first day of his renewed schooling was over, and in due time the second and third had passed. Lessons came in a more or less fixed plan. Seldom were they as dramatically presented as that early one that indicated the size and complexity of the world. Mostly the students studied from books, hand-copied for them by students more advanced, who also did much of the teaching. And there were tests.
QUESTION: THE WORLD ON WHICH MEN LIVE IS:
A. Bigger than the island of Crete.
B. Approximately a sphere in shape.
C. In need of cultivation and care, that can be accomplished only through education, if it is to support properly an eventual population of billions of human beings.
D. All of the above.
“Are these the secrets of the stars and atoms, Bull?”
“Pa-tience, Dae-dal-us. One step at a time. Tra-di-tion hal-lows the mode of tea-ching.”
“Bah.”
“Now you are a stu-dent. Dis-re-spect low-ers your grades and slows your pro-gress.”
Theoretically his attendance was to be for half a day, every day except the rare holidays. But it was tacitly understood between the Bull and Minos—at least Daedalus hoped it was—that Daedalus in fact kept to a flexible schedule, spending whatever time was necessary on the King’s projects, the catapults, the life-like statues, to keep them progressing. His days were more than full, though he could have done all the schoolwork required so far with half a brain.
Meanwhile the White Bull seemed to be keeping his part of the bargain. One of his chief acolytes, Stomargos, an earnest mainland youth, frail and clumsy at the same time, explained to Daedalus how Theseus was being shunted into a special program.
“The Prince will be allowed to choose both his Greater and Lesser Branches of learning from courses that have not previously been given for credit,” said the young man, whose own Greater Branch was, as he had proudly informed Daedalus, the Transmission of Learning itself. “Since Prince Theseus seems fated to spend most of his life as a warrior, the Bull is preparing for him courses in Strategic Decision, Command Presence, and Tactical Leadership—these in addition, of course, to those in Language, Number, and the World of Men that are required of all first-year students.”
“I wish the royal student well.” Daedalus paused for thought. “It may be foolish of me to ask, but I cannot forbear. Where and how is the course on Tactical Leadership to be conducted?”
“All courses are conducted within the student’s mind, Daedalus.” The answer sounded somewhat condescending. Nonetheless Daedalus pursued the matter, out of concerned curiosity, and found out that the Labyrinth itself, or some part of it, was to the the training ground. Beyond that Stomargos knew little.
Back at his workshop that afternoon, Daedalus found a message from Icarus’ teacher awaiting him—the boy had run off somewhere, playing truant. It was the second or third time that this had happened within a month. And scarcely had he grumbled at this message and then put it aside to take up his real work, when Icarus himself came dawdling in, an elbow scraped raw, arm messy with dried blood from some mishap during the day. Daedalus waved the note and growled and lectured, but in the son’s face he could see the mother, and he could not be harsh. He ordered a servant to take Icarus home, see to his injury, and keep him confined to quarters for the remainder of the day.
Then there was a little time at last to part the curtains at the workshop’s rear, and move through the secret door there that slid out of the way as if by magic, carrying with it neatly what had looked like an awkward, obstructing pile of dirty trash. Time to crank open a secret skylight above a secret room, and look at the great man-wings spread out on a bench.
Long ago he had given up trying to use real feathers; now he worked with canv
as and leather and light cotton padding to add shape. But work was lagging lately; he felt in his bones that more thought, more cunning was needed. When he strapped on one wing and beat it downward through the air, the effect was not much different from that of waving a fan. He was not impelled noticeably toward the sky. There were secrets still to be discovered . . .
When he got back to quarters himself, it was late at night. He grabbed a mouthful of fruit and cheese, drank half a cup of wine, shooed a bored and sleepy concubine out of his way, and dropped on his own soft but simple bed to rest. . . . It seemed that hardly had his eyes closed, however, before he heard the voices of soldiers, bullying a servant at his door:
“. . . orders to bring Daedalus at once before the King.”
This was not Minos’ usual way of summoning one of his most trusted and respected advisors, and Daedalus knew fear as, shivering, he went with them out under the late, cold stars. The lieutenant took pity on him. “It concerns Prince Theseus, sir. The King is . . .” The soldier shook his head, and let his words trail off with a puffed sigh of awe.
It was the formal audience chamber to which the soldiers brought him—a bad sign, Daedalus thought. At the King’s nod they saluted and backed out, leaving the engineer standing before the throne. Theseus moved over a little on the carpet to make room for him. No one else was now present except Minos, who, seated on his tall chair between the painted griffins, continued a merciless chewing-out of the young Prince. The flames of the oil-lamps trembled now and then as if in awe. The tone of the King’s voice was settled, almost weary, suggesting that this tongue-lashing had been going on for some time.
Sneaking glances at Theseus, Daedalus judged he had been drunk recently, but was no longer. Scratches on the sullen, handsome face, and a bruise on one bare shoulder—Theseus was attired in the Cretan gentleman’s elegant loincloth now—suggested recent strenuous activity, and the King’s words filled in the story.
Icarus had not been the day’s only truant, and Theseus would have been wiser to bruise himself in some activity so innocuous as seeking birds’ eggs on the crags. Instead he had led some of his restive classmates on an escapade in town. Tactical Leadership, thought Daedalus, even while he kept his face impeccably grave and his eyes suitably downcast in the face of the Minoan wrath.
Violence against citizens and their valuable slaves. Destruction of property. Shameful public drunkenness, bring disrepute on House and School alike. All topped off by the outrage of the daughters of some merchant families who were too important to be so treated with impunity—
Theseus held his hands behind him, sometimes tightening them into fists, sometimes playing like an idiot with his own massive fingers. His heavy features were set in disciplined silence now. This was probably like being home again and listening to his father.
“. . . classmates involved will be expelled and sent home in disgrace,” the King was saying. He paused now, for the first time since the soldiers left. “To do the same to you would of course be an insult to your father and a danger to our alliance. Daedalus, did I not set you in charge of this young blockhead’s schooling?”
In the face of this inaccuracy, Daedalus merely bowed his head a little lower. Now was not the moment for any philosopher’s insistence on precise Truth; rather, the great fact that Minos was in a rage easily took precedence over Truth in any of its lesser forms.
“His schooling is not proceeding satisfactorily, Daedalus.”
The engineer bowed somewhat lower yet.
“And as for you, Prince—now you may speak. What have you to say?”
Theseus shifted weight on his big feet, and spoke up calmly enough. “Sire, that school is driving me to drink and madness.”
Now Minos too was calm. The royal rage had been used up, or perhaps it could be turned on and off like one of Daedalus’ water valves. “Prince Theseus, you are under house arrest until further notice. Except for school attendance. I will put six strong soldiers at your door, and you may assault them, or try to, should you feel the need for further recreation.”
“I am sorry, King Minos.” And it seemed he was. “But I can take no more of that school.”
“You will take more of it. You must.” Then the King’s eye swung back again. “Daedalus, what are we to do? I and the Queen leave in three days for the state visits, in Macedonia and elsewhere. We may be gone for months.”
“I fear I have been neglectful regarding the Prince’s problems, sire. Let me now make them my prime concern.”
SHORTLY AFTER DAWN a few hours later, Daedalus came visiting the White Bull’s quarters once again. This time he found the dais uninhabited, and he sloshed through the moat and stood beside the odd chair. There was never any need to call. Shortly the silver-and-snow figure emerged from a darkened doorway, to splash gratefully in the salt moat and them climb onto the dais to bid him welcome.
“Learn from me, Dae-dal-us! How are you learn-ing?”
“White Bull, I come not on my own affairs today, but on Prince Theseus’ behalf. He is having trouble—well, he informs me that this testing in the Labyrinth, in particular, is like to drive him to violent madness. Knowing him, I do not think he is exaggerating. Must this Tactical course be continued in its present form?”
“The course of stu-dy of tac-tics is pre-scribed. In part, as fol-lows: The teach-er shall e-voke from the students facts as to their de-term-in-a-tion of spa-tial lo-ca-tion—”
He couldn’t stand it. “Oh great teacher! Master of the Transmission of Learning—”
“Not Mas-ter. My rank is that of A-dept, a high-er rank.”
“Master or adept or divinity or what you will. I suppose it means nothing that the Prince’s fate in battle, even insofar as he may escape all the sheer chance stupidities of war, is not at all likely to depend on his ability to grope his way out of a maze?”
“He has been al-lowed to choose his course of stu-dy, Dae-dal-us. Beyond that, spe-cial treat-ment can-not be ac-cord-ed a-ny stu-dent.”
“Well, I have never fought anyone with a sword, White Bull. I have never bullied and challenged men and cheered them on to get them into combat. Once, on the mainland, watching from the highest and safest place that I could reach, I saw Prince Theseus do these things. Some vassal’s uprising against Aegeus. Theseus put it down, almost single-handedly, you might say. I think he would not be likely to learn much from me in the way of military science, were I to lecture on the subject. No doubt you, however, have great skill and knowledge in this field to impart?”
“My qual-if-i-ca-tions as teach-er are be-yong your ab-il-i-ty to com-pre-hend, much less to ques-tion. Your own pro-gress should be your con-cern.”
“If Theseus fails, I may not be on hand to make any progress through your school. Minos will be angry at me. And not at me alone.”
But argue as he might he still could not get his ward excused from Tractical training and testing in the Labyrinth. For the next couple of days the Prince at least stayed in school and worked, and Daedalus’ hopes rose; then, emerging one afternoon from his own classroom, he saw a page from the Inner House coming to meet him, and knew a sinking feeling. The Princess Ariadne required his presence in the audience chamber at once.
He found Ariadne perched regally on the throne; but as soon as she had waved her attendants out and the two of them were alone she came down from the chair and spoke to him informally.
“Daedalus, before my father’s departure he informed me that Prince Theseus was having—difficulties—in school. The King impressed upon me the importance of this problem. Also I have—have talked with the Prince myself, and find that the situation does not seem to be improving.” Ariadne sounded nervous, vaguely distracted.
“I fear that you are right, Princess.” Then before he had to say anything more, another page was announcing Theseus himself. There was no escort of soldiers with the Prince; evidently the house arrest instituted by Minos had already been set aside.
The exchange of greetings between the two y
oung people sounded somewhat too stiffly formal to Daedalus, and he noted that Ariadne scarcely looked directly at Theseus for a moment, Certainly she had not so avoided watching him during the wrestling match. And when the Prince looked at her now, his face was wooden.
For a few moments Daedalus thought perhaps that they were quarreling, but he soon decided that the absolute opposite was more likely: an affair, and they were trying to hide it.
In response to an awkward-sounding request from Ariadne, Theseus related his day’s continued difficulties in school. Now she turned, almost pleading, to the older man. “Daedalus, he will fail his Labyrinth tests again. What are we to do? We must find some means of helping him.” And a glance flicked between the two young people that was very brief, but still enough to assure Daedalus of what was going on.
“Ah.” He relaxed, looked at them both with something like a smile. He only hoped infatuation would not bring Ariadne to any too-great foolishness. Meanwhile, Theseus’ problem might be easier to solve while Minos, with his awe of the Bull, was not around.
Conferring with the Prince, while Ariadne hovered near and listened greedily, he made sure that the maze itself was indeed the key to the young man’s difficulties. In courses other than Tactics the Prince might, probably could, do well enough to just scrape by.
With a charred stick Daedalus drew, from memory, a plan of the key portion of the Labyrinth right on the floor near the foot of the throne. The griffins glared down balefully at the three of them squatting there like children at some game.
Theseus stared gloomily at the patterns while Daedalus talked. Ariadne’s hand came over once, forgetfully, to touch her lover’s, and then flew back, while her eyes jumped up to Daedalus’ face. He affirmed that he had noticed nothing, by holding his own scowling concentration on the floor.
“Now try it this way, Prince. The secret . . . let’s see. Yes. If you are finding your way in the secret is to let your right hand touch the wall at the start. Hey?”
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