Thinking back now, the guards were lucky Theseus didn’t kill them. They had obviously fled outside, rightly believing the tower to be no longer safe. They had given no thought to their prisoners, unconcerned that they were being left to their fate. More humane guards would’ve released them. At least that way, the prisoners would have some hope if the tower collapsed.
A minor tremor shook the building. Dust floated down in gentle eddies. We steadied ourselves against the walls, and I was appalled to find that the blocks were shifting alarmingly beneath my hands. The tower was indeed unsafe. It probably wouldn’t be long until it broke apart altogether.
“Phaedra!” I shouted. No answer. Stone steps spiraled upward. Given that there were no other doors, it was clear that the prisoners were held above us. “Wait here,” I said to Ariadne and Glaucus.
I raced up the stairs, Theseus at my heels. We found ourselves in a circular tunnel, punctuated by a series of doors. They were all unlocked. Each one concealed a cell. Frantically, we searched, but all the cells were empty. We raced up the next flight of stairs and found ourselves in a corridor that was almost identical to the one below. I tried one of the doors and found that it was locked.
“In here,” I heard a voice say.
Theseus and I put our shoulders into it and broke it down. We found ourselves in a large chamber almost completely filled with tables cluttered with all manner of tools and instruments.
Daedalus stood there, looking a little shaken but otherwise none the worst for his experience. I was not at all surprised that Daedalus had been imprisoned with the tools of his trade. His knowledge and intelligence was too valuable to Minos to have him sitting idle.
When he saw my masked face, his expression was that of sadness. Regret. At first, I thought he was like all the others and had started to believe the tales. But that wasn’t it at all.
“Asterion,” he said his voice faltering. “It’s good to see you.”
“And you, Daedalus,” I said. “Where are the others?”
“In the cells nearby, I think.”
“Get outside. It’s not safe in here.”
Without waiting, Theseus and I raced to the next adjacent cell. We were about to break down the door when Daedalus stopped us.
“It might help if you have this,” he said, handing us a large bronze key. “I made it by examining the lock. I couldn’t access it from my side, but it will save your shoulders unnecessary punishment.”
I thanked him and inserted the key into the lock. Like everything Daedalus made, it worked perfectly. We still had to force the door though. The earthquake had moved everything out of alignment, and the door was jammed.
Eventually we got it open. This cell was much smaller than Daedalus’s. There were no tables or equipment, just a straw bed. It had one occupant: Phaedra. She rushed into my arms.
“I was so worried about you,” I said.
“And I you,” she replied, hugging me tightly. “Especially with the earthquake.” Her questing hands found the arrow in my back, and she gave a small cry of dismay. “You’re hurt.”
“I know,” I said simply. “We’ll deal with it later.”
“No,” she said firmly in a tone that brooked no argument. “We’ll deal with it now. Daedalus has tools and instruments that can remove it. We’ll just get you outside.”
“I can’t. I have to get the others out.”
“Theseus can take care of that.” She turned to the man in question. “Isn’t that right, Theseus?”
Theseus nodded, smiling crookedly. He obviously knew Phaedra well enough now not to argue with her. In this, he was smarter than me.
We clasped each other and made our way out of the tower. Outside, we found Daedalus sitting on the grass, gazing up at the stars. Ariadne and Glaucus were sitting several paces away, engrossed in conversation. The guards had disappeared.
Phaedra seemed surprised to see her half brother and sister. Her eyes narrowed, and she pursed her lips in distaste. “What are they doing here?”
“Ariadne helped us get into the tower.”
Phaedra said nothing, but I knew she would have a reckoning with them eventually.
“Daedalus,” she said, turning to the old craftsman. “I need your help. Asterion has an arrow in his back.”
“Yes,” said Daedalus. “But that is not the only thing he needs to have removed.” He met my eye. “I am sorry, Asterion. Minos forced me to do it. He threatened my son.” I knew what he was referring to, of course: my helmet.
I nodded. “I know, Daedalus. Don’t blame yourself. I don’t.”
“We must return to my cell above,” he said. “It has everything I need.”
“It’s not safe,” I said, shaking my head.
“Regardless,” said Daedalus. “I cannot work here. If that arrow isn’t removed, it will kill you. The helmet, well that is another story, but the sooner you are rid of it, the better.”
I was about to argue, but at that moment, Theseus returned with several other figures in tow: Icarus, Catreus, and Deucalion. And the person I most wanted to see other than Phaedra: my mother.
When she saw me, she gave a tiny cry and threw herself into my arms.
“Asterion, my son,” she sobbed. It had been well over a year since she had seen me last. “Take off your helmet so I can kiss you.”
“That,” said Daedalus, turning away from the embrace he was sharing with his son, “is what we were just discussing. Icarus, I will need you. You too, Phaedra. You will need to sew up his wound while Icarus and I deal with the helmet. You,” he said, pointing at Theseus. “You look strong. I will need that strength.”
“Catreus. Deucalion. Stay here and keep a look out,” said Phaedra. There was probably no need. She wanted our brothers to keep an eye on Ariadne and Glaucus.
I wanted to argue, but Phaedra was having none of it. They were prepared to risk their lives in a building that could collapse at any moment. For me.
The five of us returned to the tower and marched up the two flights of stairs to Daedalus’s cell. The tower continued to shift dangerously. I knew it was only a matter of time until it collapsed.
Daedalus cleared one of his tables and told me to sit. I did what I was told. Phaedra and Theseus, working with instructions and tools from Daedalus, began extracting the broken shaft of the arrow from my back. The pain was terrible but I gritted my teeth against it stoically.
“The horns will have to be removed,” said Daedalus finally. “There is no other way.”
“No,” I said. I remembered the almost unbelievable pain I had suffered when Daedalus had drilled holes in them.
“The mask must come off,” said Icarus. “You cannot wear it for the rest of your life. To do that, we must remove your horns.”
“Is it safe?” grunted Phaedra. She and Theseus had almost worked the arrow out of my back.
“I don’t know,” said Daedalus. “There is a chance it could kill him.”
“Then don’t do it,” she said with a note of finality in her voice.
I knew what this cost her. To go through the rest of her life without being able to look on the face of the man she loved. To never be able to kiss me again. It was a terrible price to pay, and my heart surged with love for her then. She would rather deal with that than risk my life.
Her sacrifice made my mind up.
“Do it,” I said, gritting my teeth as Theseus and Phaedra finally plucked the arrow out. I suddenly felt a little dizzy feeling the flow of something warm running down my back. I knew it was my blood.
“You can’t,” said Phaedra behind me. “You might die. I won’t risk that.”
“I will,” I said. “And it’s my life to risk.”
“Now is as good a time as any,” said Daedalus. “The blood loss will make it likely that he will pass out. Icarus and I will be able to work unhampered.”
Phaedra said nothing. She sewed up my back with catgut in silence. I could t
ell she was angry, her hands a little rougher than strictly necessary.
It seemed that Daedalus had been supplied with all manner of items. I did wonder at the time why he had catgut. I discovered later that he had been experimenting with it for reasons associated with flight.
Eventually, Phaedra finished. Daedalus and Icarus helped me lie down. It hurt my back dreadfully but both craftsmen weren’t about to take the risk of me fainting on them. Phaedra held my hand. I smiled at her reassuringly, forgetting for a moment that she couldn’t see the expression. Perhaps, when this was all over, she would.
The tower shook again as another tremor passed through it. No one moved for a moment.
“I think you should hurry,” said Theseus. He took my other hand and clasped it firmly, grinning at me. “This will be nothing, brother. You’ve suffered worse.” He was wrong. So completely wrong. I have remarked earlier that the worst pain I had endured up to this point in my life was when Daedalus drilled holes into my horns. That was nothing compared to what I went through next.
Daedalus bustled about gathering tools and instruments. I eyed the files, pliers, and saws with growing alarm. Finally, he declared himself ready.
“If he moves,” he said to Theseus, “hold him. If he continues to struggle, strike him hard and fast.”
Theseus nodded and smiled. He clenched his fist and winked at me. I knew he wouldn’t have a problem doing that.
It turned out he didn’t need to.
Daedalus began sawing through the first of my horns. As I suspected, the pain was so terrible my mind instantly shut down, instinctively knowing it was too much to bear. It seared my body and soul.
My stomach churns to think of what I suffered, even though it was only for a moment.
Chapter 19
“Ah, the sleeping giant awakes from his slumber.”
I opened my eyes to see Phaedra sitting on the pallet next to me. She lent in close and kissed me. Kissed me! I didn’t realize the import of this at first, and then it hit home so hard my heart stopped for a moment.
I tried to sit up but was too weak. The blazing sun beat down, forcing me to squint uncomfortably. You have to remember that I was still unaccustomed to such bright light. It would be a long time before I adjusted. I began to look around and was initially confused by a number of odd sensations. The first was movement. We were rocking slowly from side to side. I thought perhaps I was still dreaming or hadn’t recovered properly from my ordeal, but after a few moments, I realized that we were indeed rocking. We were on a ship! Actually, I was on the deck of a ship. All around me, I could hear the slap of oars against the sea.
The mast soared above me. Gulls floated and squawked above. I could smell the salt water and taste it on my lips. All sensations I had not experienced for a long, long time. It was a heady experience.
There was something wrong with my vision though.
I couldn’t quite put my finger on it at first, and then I realized. It was my peripheral vision. I had gone so long without it, it was a stunning revelation to have it suddenly returned to me. I could see clearly without turning my head for the first time in almost two years.
You have to remember that I wore that helmet for a long time, rarely taking it off. During my adventures with Theseus, I only removed it to eat, bathe, and sleep. After my imprisonment in the labyrinth, the helmet—and especially the mask—took on a much greater significance. At first, I raged against it. Gradually, I began to accept it. Eventually, I became almost indifferent. It was a part of me and I it. We were two objects that had melded seamlessly to become one.
Gingerly, I reached up and felt my face and head. My face was no great revelation. Smooth. Someone had shaved me whilst I slept. Even with the mask on, I could still poke my fingers under to scratch or force food through the gap. But my horns. For the first time in my life, all I felt was … nothing. No horns. It was hard to make a thorough inspection because my head was fully bandaged in linen, but the absence was strange. Uplifting, joyous, exciting, but still strange.
My horns were something entirely different. I had been born with them. They were an innate part of me, not something forced upon me that I gradually came to accept. I hated them of course. They made me stand out; they made me different. People feared me because of my horns. But, I had thought it was impossible to remove them without killing me. I had suspected it would be like removing a perfectly good arm or leg.
I was fortunate that I had the most skilled craftsmen of the age available. I think I would’ve died if someone else had made the attempt. Not only that, but Daedalus had studied the healing arts extensively in his travels—all in the interests of being a holistic craftsman. He was fascinated by every subject and applied his great intellect to its utmost extent—no matter what the task. He was the sort of man that would have excelled in any intellectual pursuit.
The mask and my horns are what made me the Minotaur of course. Without them, I was just a man. A huge man perhaps, but a man nonetheless. I wanted nothing other than to live a normal life. To be a good husband and eventually a father for the children I hoped to have with Phaedra.
“How … how did it go?” I asked.
Phaedra smiled at me sweetly and stroked my face. “Well, you’re alive aren’t you? That means it went well. You almost died. Again. I think it was probably the blood loss and shock. Then, right at a crucial moment—when Daedalus was almost through your first horn—there was another earthquake.”
“So, what did you do?” I asked weakly.
“Daedalus wanted to stay. He said it was too dangerous to move you, but Theseus disagreed. He said that Poseidon had just appeared to him and told him we had to move.” She shrugged. “So we moved. Theseus is a hard man to argue with.”
I laughed softly. “He is that. Where is he?”
“He’s onboard somewhere. I’ll find him later. He’ll want to know you’re awake. He has something to show you.”
“What happened next?” I asked.
“We carried you outside. Daedalus and Icarus finished sawing through your horns. There was blood. A lot of it. I didn’t know that horns bled like that. You were so pale; I thought you couldn’t possibly have any blood left in your body.”
“And how did we get on this ship?”
“It was the only intact ship left in the harbor. The wave created by the earthquake destroyed the others. Theseus got us all aboard by threatening the crew and promising to reward them richly when we reach Athens.”
“And what of the tributes?” I asked.
“Safe,” said Phaedra. “Theseus collected the survivors before we set sail.”
I felt myself relax. It seemed that Phaedra and Theseus had everything organized. I had a few nagging doubts and many more questions, but I was still absolutely exhausted.
Phaedra saw my eyes droop. She kissed me lightly on the cheek. “Get some more rest. I’ll come and check on you later.”
The sounds of shipboard life faded around me. My eyes closed of their own accord, and I slept.
Ω
When I awoke again, I felt much stronger. I tried to sit up, and this time succeeded although I had to wait several moments for my head to stop swimming. I could hear the steady thud of oars. The wind had picked up, billowing the sail.
Sailors bustled around the deck, for the most part ignoring me. I looked around for familiar faces. I hadn’t really been aware when I last awoke just how crowded the ship was. The deck was filled with people, some lying on makeshift pallets like myself or just making do on the hard wooden deck. Several passengers moved around listlessly, talking or looking out at the sea. I recognized a couple of the Athenian tributes. Some others were dressed in loincloths or dresses that marked them as Cretan. I suspected that the disaster that had befallen Crete had created many refugees.
Through the crowd, I saw two faces I recognized. Theseus and Phaedra. They smiled when they saw me sitting and joined me.
“My brother,”
said Theseus, smiling broadly. “It’s good to see you up.”
I smiled back tiredly. “I’m not up yet. Help me.”
Theseus threw my arm around his shoulders and helped me to my feet. I sagged against him, feeling as weak as a baby. Phaedra tucked herself into my side, content to hold me. I didn’t lean on her for fear of my weight squashing her.
“Are you up for a walk around the deck?” asked Phaedra.
I nodded, and the three of us shuffled slowly across the wooden deck.
“Where’s my mother?” I asked finally. “My brothers?”
“Your mother is resting below deck,” said Theseus. “As for your brothers, probably getting up to mischief. Last I saw of them, they were having a go on the oars.”
I nodded. “And what of Icarus and Daedalus?” I asked.
“Ah,” said Phaedra. “They chose not to come.”
We rested against the rail of the ship. The short walk had drained my limited supply of energy. I looked out over the shifting waves. White caps had been whipped up by the wind, although the swells were rather small, perhaps exhausted by the energy taken to destroy the harbor at Knossos. I wondered for a moment what my father, Poseidon, was doing at that moment. Was he under those white caps, staring up at me? Perhaps he was in the depths, doing whatever it was that sea gods did to pass the time.
There was an island looming on the horizon. It was still some distance away, and I didn’t recognize it despite having spent some time in these waters. The ship appeared to be heading toward it.
“Where are they then?” I asked.
“They decided to escape Crete in a different manner entirely,” said Phaedra.
I could’ve guessed but I wanted to hear Phaedra tell the story.
“They used the wings,” she continued. “While you were imprisoned, Daedalus and Icarus perfected them. I think both of them couldn’t wait to try.”
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