Very few, if any, remembered the name Asterion. It was around this time, I believe, that any mention of my previous association with Theseus was stricken from the historical record. The adventures we had together were changed. Theseus had triumphed alone. He never had help from his good friend Asterion.
I liked to think Theseus had no hand in this, and I suspect that I was probably right. The legend of Minotaur had taken on a life of its own, much like the adventures of Theseus before he arrived in Athens. Once people started obsessing over the stories, facts become almost obsolete. Oddly enough, the truth was actually stranger than fiction. But people didn’t want the truth. They wanted to believe in heroes and monsters. Theseus was the hero and I the monster. It made their simple, uneventful lives easier to understand, easier to bear.
I understood how they felt. I just didn’t like it.
I waited a few more moments, listening as the hysterical cries started up once more. And then I made my move.
I emerged from behind one of the walls in the maze. By now, the young tributes’ eyes had adjusted sufficiently for them to make out that someone or something was standing there. The limestone walls glowed with enough luminescence for them to see that much at least. They knew that Minotaur had come for them. The beast of the labyrinth. They were convinced I was going to eat them.
Almost all did exactly what I thought they would. These were the ones that had resigned themselves to death. They huddled together on the cold stone floor, wretched, frozen in terror. At least four ran for their lives as I’d intended. That wasn’t a problem. Actually, I’d hoped that all would do that. For our ruse to work, I could hardly eat the Athenians in plain sight of the guards. Better for them to run away. The guards’ imaginations would do the rest.
I had planned to just get closer and closer and force them to move, to flee before me. I knew they would eventually, and then it would be a relatively simple matter of rounding them up.
Unfortunately, they had two heroes amongst them. I, being a hero myself, fully understood their drives and motives. I respected them, I could relate. I also hated them for their stupidity.
It was just light enough for them to attack me without the risk of running into one of the walls. They didn’t have weapons of course, but fear lent them strength. The two youths charged at me without tactics.
My eyes were much more accustomed to the darkness than theirs. It gave me an advantage. Combined with my newly returned strength, they stood no chance. To their credit, it didn’t deter them at all. They must have been scared. Who wouldn’t be? I stood head and shoulders above them, and my helmet and bull mask, only barely visible, must have been terrible to behold.
Both tried to close with me, instinctively realizing that it was their only hope. I punched the first one who reached me. Boxing, like wrestling, had always been one of my stronger skills. I wasn’t very fast, but I was immensely powerful with a reach greater than any other man. My fist hammered into his face, throwing him off his feet. He bounced off a nearby wall and slumped to the ground, absolutely still. I was a little dismayed by this, hoping that I hadn’t killed him. I really shouldn’t have hit him so hard.
In hindsight, I should’ve tried to do something else. Wrestle him perhaps? But then again, wrestling was only effective against one man. When fighting multiple opponents, especially unarmed, it was better to strike hard and fast, removing them from the fight as soon as possible. Paris told me that.
Distracted, I turned my attention to my second attacker.
As I’ve mentioned several times already, I was not the fastest of fighters. My time in the labyrinth had not served to hone my reflexes either. I was sluggish. My attacker, as young as, or perhaps younger, than I, was much fleeter of foot, even hampered by the darkness. He was also driven by the will to survive, which makes any man a dangerous animal.
I had intended to stop his attack with another punch, but I was too late for that. He was already inside my swing. He punched low, connecting with my naked stomach. I reacted completely normally, doing what any other person would do in that situation. I stooped suddenly in pain. The movement forced my head downwards.
One of my horns plunged straight into my attacker’s eye. Horrified, I picked him up off the ground with both hands, intending to remove the horn as gently as possible. To any onlooker, it must have been a terrible sight. A young man impaled and lifted into the air by a great beast. Of course, he struggled mightily, his struggles only driving the horn even deeper. By the time I set him on the ground, he was already dead. I was absolutely devastated. Not only had I killed a man by accident, but I had done it in almost the same manner as I had killed Androgeus.
Feeling sick, I turned to those Athenians still huddled before me. I put my hands out, placating, grasping for the words to reassure them. Nothing came out of my mouth. There was nothing I could have said. They had just witnessed me smashing one of their friends into a wall and then skewering the other. They were probably expecting me to immediately start feasting on the bodies.
It was the catalyst required to finally make them move, eventually doing what I had intended for them to do all along. The irony didn’t escape me.
They fled, screaming, into the cold dark embrace of the labyrinth.
Chapter 15
“I see,” said Ovid, nodding his head slowly. “I understand.” He did—with absolute certainty. As Ast had related the events, Ovid had pictured them in his mind, even as he furiously scribbled. He understood exactly how everything had unfolded—and why. Human nature being what it was, it couldn’t have happened differently.
Ovid was experienced enough to know that people acted unpredictably when scared. Imagined terrors are often worse that actual ones. How terrible for this man to have killed—entirely by accident—one of the people he was trying to save. It was enough to haunt you for the rest of your days. He couldn’t begin to imagine what Ast had gone through. If he was being honest with himself though, he realized that he was quite relieved that Ast had never eaten people. If that were the case, Ovid probably would’ve fled.
“Don’t blame yourself,” said Ovid, in what he hoped were reassuring tones. “It’s not your fault.”
Ast sighed wearily. “I know that, but it’s poor consolation. I think that if I had somehow acted differently, it wouldn’t have ended in tragedy.”
“I hardly see what you could’ve done differently,” said Ovid, eyeing the man with growing sympathy. He took a sip of wine. There wasn’t much left now. He was even considering rationing himself, which was almost unthinkable. A thought suddenly occurred to him.
“Couldn’t you have somehow got out the trapdoor?” he asked.
“Don’t you think I tried that?” said Ast, a note of irritation in his voice. “Several times I waited in the shadows for the rope to be lowered with my water. Once, I even managed to grab it. They simply cut it before I could climb. There was no other way to reach the trapdoor.”
“What about levering some of the stone blocks out of the walls, stacking them and using them as a ladder?” asked Ovid. He knew it as soon as the words emerged out of his mouth that it was a foolish question, but he was tired and drunk. That combination made him incautious.
“Would you like me to finish my story, or are you just going to keep bombarding me with stupid questions all night?” snapped Ast.
“Please,” said Ovid, making a gracious gesture. “Be my guest. I am sorry if my quest for the truth irritates you.”
Ast stared at him. Many men would’ve flinched from that stare, but not Ovid. He was feeling brave now. Reckless. Ovid met the stare and then smiled. To his surprise, Ast smiled back.
“I believe I have chosen wisely,” said Ast. “If anyone has the courage to reveal the truth, it is you. Would you like to hear more?”
Suppressing a sudden desire to laugh hysterically, Ovid nodded and bent his head, quill poised.
Ω
“So what are we supposed to do now?�
�� asked Catreus.
“Don’t ask me,” I said shrugging wearily. “I suppose we could herd them like cattle.” I was tired, having spent the last few hours unsuccessfully trying to round up the Athenians. It was like trying to corner scared cats. Not that I blamed them. I was feeling frustrated and more than a little horrified by the turn of events.
“We’ll have to light both … ” said Deucalion.
“ … lamps, obviously,” said Catreus. The twins exchanged knowing glances.
Which was fine. My half-brothers had seen fit to bring only one lamp with them, to guide the Athenians through the passage. Phaedra had given them explicit instructions, instructions that now were completely irrelevant.
We sat in my small bedchamber in the maze, discussing our options around the light of my own precious lamp. They had appeared an hour earlier, explaining that they had come in Phaedra’s stead. I had been waiting at the entrance to the secret passage for at least double that time, pacing impatiently. I had a rough idea when it was night outside, but my calculations were often a few hours out.
My own efforts to round up the Athenians had come to nothing. Every time they saw me, they screamed and fled in terror. On a couple of occasions, I’d had an opportunity to corner one or two of them but hadn’t, dreading a repeat of the earlier encounter. Thankfully, when I’d returned to the place below the trapdoor, the body of the one I had punched was gone. I assumed he still lived. The dead youth was still there, lying in a cooling pool of his own blood.
Phaedra was now too carefully watched to chance another venture into the maze. Although disappointed, it was nice to see my younger brothers. The twins had become men during my absence. From recollection, they might have been fifteen or perhaps sixteen at the time.
“I don’t know if you should … ” said Catreus.
“ … come. Perhaps you should stay right here,” continued Deucalion. “They’ll only run again if they see you. Probably can’t … ”
“ … blame them. And we only have two lamps,” finished Catreus.
“Fine,” I muttered. I knew it made sense, but I wanted to help, to fix this debacle. “Make sure you stay away from the trapdoor. If the guards see your light, they’ll know something is wrong. Remember, use the scratches on the walls to guide you.”
In the two days prior to the arrival of the Athenian tributes, I had extended my scratch system. In theory, Catreus and Deucalion could use it to guide them to the secret passage from anywhere in the maze. In practice, I knew they would probably get lost. It worked for me, but I was much more familiar with the maze than anyone else.
It didn’t matter that much though. Even if they got completely lost, hopefully by then they would have the Athenians in tow. Then I could guide everyone out, with Catreus and Deucalion at my side to reassure the prisoners that I wasn’t about to eat them.
“Right … ” said Catreus, standing.
“What are we waiting for?” asked Deucalion, finishing his sentence for him.
I left them to it, having to content myself with sitting patiently in the relative darkness. Of course, I couldn’t sit still. I heard all sorts of commotion within the labyrinth as Catreus and Deucalion attempted to corner the terrified tributes. The gods only know what the labyrinth guards thought was happening below their feet.
Eventually, I could bear it no longer. I reasoned that as long as I stayed outside of the light, no one would be the wiser. I could even help, driving any stragglers toward my half-brothers. I just prayed to Poseidon that I wouldn’t encounter any more heroes.
Fortunately, the survivors were too scared to risk confronting me again. If they caught any glimpse of me, they immediately fled. I did my best, trying to herd them in the direction of my brothers or toward the escape tunnel. I was only partially successful.
Our plan had been relatively simple, and on the face of it, it should have worked. But, what I have discovered over the centuries is that few things go to plan. What should have been over in a matter of hours actually took several days.
Catreus and Deucalion had to return to the outside world on a number of occasions during the operation. They would arouse too much suspicion if they weren’t seen around the palace for all that time. Not only that, but they ran out of food, water, and oil for the lamps and had to return for supplies.
Catreus got lost twice. Deucalion three times. On one occasion, he even dropped his oil lamp and couldn’t relight it. Where possible, I tried to guide them with my voice rather than risk frightening their charges with my presence.
They brought the tributes back to the escape tunnel in ones or twos. It became impossible to try and bring back more than that at a time. Once either of them had one or two Athenians, they would guide them through the escape tunnel and out into the world. The rescued youths often had to wait until it was dark enough to venture outside. I don’t know what my brothers did with them and never got an opportunity to ask. Fortunately, none of the Athenians were of heroic proportions, and all managed to fit through the tunnel.
I tried to remain hidden all that time. It just became too difficult otherwise. I didn’t have a light, and I resented this, but I was much more accustomed to the darkness than any of the others.
It was a simple matter to know how many remained in the labyrinth. Fourteen had arrived, one was dead, so thirteen remained. When Catreus and Deucalion had eventually found twelve, we knew we were close to the finish line. All three of us were exhausted by that point, having had very little sleep during the entire process.
The last youth proved almost impossible to track down. I suspected it was the heroic tribute who had attacked me. The one I had punched. Given that none of the others sported a bruised face, it made sense that it was him.
The three of us eventually cornered him. Catreus and Deucalion tried to reason with him, but he was past that point. The look in his eyes was feral. Once again, he displayed his heroic tendencies, attacking me with great ferocity even though he must have been more exhausted than the three of us, not to mention hungry. We subdued him and carried him kicking and screaming to the escape tunnel. It wasn’t until we actually forced him into the tunnel that he began to calm down.
I wished I’d learnt his name. It is not very often you encounter such bravery, even as foolish and misplaced as his was.
Catreus and Deucalion followed him out but not before both my brothers hugged me.
“It will be your turn … ” said Catreus.
“ … one day. Not too far distant,” said Deucalion.
I thanked them, and then, finally, I was once again alone in the labyrinth. I almost experienced a sense of relief that I had the place to myself once more. I realized that I was becoming comfortable being by myself. That I liked my own company. That I liked being alone.
I retired to my bed of straw. I must have slept for many hours or possibly even days. Eventually, noise intruded into my consciousness. Through my foggy, sleep filled head, the noise finally registered. It was the sound of footsteps and voices.
Once again, the labyrinth had intruders.
Ω
I didn’t dare light my lamp. As silently as possible, I moved toward the sounds. It sounded like several people but it was hard to pinpoint their location due to the echoes that bounced and rebounded off the walls.
Eventually, I realized where the noises were coming from. In the direction of the trapdoor. Cautiously, I made my way toward them. At first, I thought perhaps my brothers and I must have miscounted. One or two of the Athenians were still in the maze. And then I remembered how thorough we were. With all our checking and rechecking, there was no way we could’ve made a mistake. It wasn’t Phaedra either. Couldn’t be Phaedra. If it were her, she would have found me in my bedchamber. She knew where it was almost as well as I did. I ruled out my brothers for the same reason.
And then there was the feeling I got from the labyrinth. I have never spoken of this, and probably will never speak of it again, but I
feel this is the right time to mention it. I was the labyrinth’s first and only true prisoner. We were connected. It was part of me, and I was part of it, especially given the length of time I spent within its confines. Somehow, I knew when I was alone within it, just as I knew when there were intruders. Just like now.
If they weren’t the tributes, then there was only one other possibility: guards. Minos’s guards.
As I got closer to the location of the trapdoor, I knew I was right. Despite Phaedra’s certainty that they would never enter the labyrinth, they were here. I knew why they were here too. They were looking for me.
Minos wanted confirmation of my descent into madness and cannibalism. He’d probably had to threaten or bribe the guards, but regardless of how he’d done it, guards were now in my home, and they were unwelcome.
There were four of them, all holding oil lamps that they waved fearfully about the place, expecting the shadows to come alive at any moment. In their free hands, three carried drawn swords. One had a club grasped firmly in both hands. Clearly, they weren’t about to take any chances.
I kept far back in the shadows, knowing the labyrinth well enough to find places where I could observe them easily without being observed in turn.
“Here,” shouted one of the guards excitedly.
The three other guards hastened over to examine what he had found. It was the dead body of the Athenian youth I had killed. I don’t know why they didn’t find him straight away. They must have explored in a different direction first.
“He did for him alright,” said one of the men. “You can see the where the horn went right into his eye. Nasty.”
“What’s that moving?” said one of the others in a voice that had gone high with fear, pointing toward the corpse.
All four guards bent down, bringing their lamps closer to better inspect the body. Unable to restrain my curiosity, I edged toward them.
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