Theseus and the Labyrinth

Footsteps pounding on the stairs woke Theseus from his slumber. Around him, his fellow Athenians groaned themselves awake. Sleep had taken him far away from the island of Crete and the doom that waited for him and his fellow tributes. His dreams had taken him back to his grandfather’s household before he had set out for Athens to claim his rightful place at his father’s court. He had been spending his day training with the weapon’s master. The stern man had praised him then dismissed him to his mother’s charge. Minos’ guard marching up the stairs had brought him out of his dream just as he had set eyes on his mother’s smiling face. 

He pushed himself into a sitting position as the guards stepped into the hall that the King had set aside for his “guests” in the labyrinth shrine. Theseus inhaled deeply, his eyes planted on the four armored men who had disturbed their dreams and returned them to the nightmare their lives had become. They had been treated with great courtesy when they had first arrived in Knossos. They had been free to go into the city, pray at any shrine, and train with the wooden weapons Minos so kindly provided. They could even join the court for the evening meal. Minos and his court had been quite generous, even if they had to return to the shrine of the labyrinth every evening to be locked inside to guard against escape. The closer to the day when the first of them were to be sent to meet the Minotaur, their freedoms were slowly stripped away.

“His Majesty King Minos commands your presence in the courtyard,” a guard bellowed.

Theseus smiled as he came to his feet. “Thank you for delivering his Majesty’s message, guardsman. We all look forward to joining him there.”

“Then you’d better hurry up. The King does not like to be kept waiting.”

The Athenian prince could only keep the smile on his face and nod as he encouraged his fellow tributes to their feet. None wanted to leave the safety of their sleeping hall. He could almost hear their hearts pounding in their chests as they struggled to their feet. By the entrance, the guards cursed them for taking their time. The people of Crete had been so kind, appreciative of the sacrifice their enemy polis had made. Once the Athenians had been confined to the hall, the courtesy had continued –save for the guards who watched over them. Their tempers grew short, and they had scolded the servants for showing their prisoners any kindness when delivering meals.

Try as they might to linger in their prison rather than attend the King, the Athenian youths and maiden had to be forced out the door. Theseus held his tongue as the guards pushed and pulled the tributes out the door. They even treated him with the same discourtesy even as he willingly joined the others in the hallway. The route from the sleeping hall to the courtyard was a maze of twists and turns they had only begun to memorize when they were finally locked inside. A guardsman had to lead them out. Theseus had been the last to exit the hall, and when they reached the doors to the courtyard, his fellow Athenians again hesitated despite the guards mumbling insults around them.

“Please, my people,” Theseus encouraged. “Let us not return their words with rudeness. The King has shown us courtesy, let us do the same.”

The Athenians took slow steps into the courtyard.  At the first opportunity, Theseus stepped around them to get a good look at the King of King for himself. Minos had not come alone. Members of his court stood on either side of him, including his daughter Ariadne who had acted as their host at the shrine. Behind the King, Theses spotted the commander of the island’s military, a thickly muscled man who called himself General Tauros. The soldier had been a regular visitor when they had still been allowed to roam free. He had seen the youths were given wooden swords to practice their skill. More than once, Tauros had sparred with Theseus. Did the general want to assess their fighting skill for himself? Did he want to convince any of them to join Minos’ army?

Theseus pushed aside his thoughts as the king stepped forward to recite once again the reason he demanded Athens send seven youths and seven maidens to his shores every seven years. The first time Theseus had heard the story back in Athens had been enough to last a lifetime. But he listened to the King, his face expressionless. Around him, his fellow Athenians groaned in anger or gasped in dismay. Yes, the events Minos described were horrible –that the King’s son had been killed out of jealousy went against everything Zeus had taught them about how to be courteous to one’s guests. Theseus doubted an Athenian had committed the heinous crime but since it had occurred in Athens during the Olympic Games, Minos held the citizens of Athens responsible.

The prince turned his attention to Minos’ court as the King droned on, giving even the most minor detail his full attention. The courtiers glared at them with smug looks on their faces. Every single one of them believed the fourteen youngsters standing in front of them deserved their fate. They would send every citizen into the labyrinth if they could. Minos’ daughter Ariadne stood off by herself, her fingers entwined in front of her and her eyes downcast. It made it difficult to read her face, to catch a glimpse into her thoughts. She had been their staunchest ally. Theseus was certain their time locked up in the sleeping hall would have been more difficult if not for her kindness. He only hoped his kind words had convinced her to provide him with assistance inside the labyrinth.

Theseus glanced in the direction of Olympus. “I pray that you have answered my prayers, Lady Aphrodite,” he whispered as his eyes shifted to the King’s general.

Tauros stood steps behind his sovereign with one hand on the hilt of his sword. Ariadne had whispered to him soon after their arrival that one of the previous tributes had made an attempt on the King when the first of them was sent into the labyrinth to meet the Minotaur. The soldier looked as if he hoped that one of them would act so stupidly. The longer the King took to recount the story, the more the light seemed to dance in the general’s eyes. Like the King’s courtiers, Tauros believed they deserved what was coming to them. The only difference, he had spoken it every time one of them was within earshot.

Being within the general’s sight made Theseus want to shudder, and luckily before his body could react to his discomfort, Minos brought his tale to an end. “Your sacrifice will keep your polis safe,” the King reminded them. “Remember that when you enter the labyrinth. The first of you will be locked inside this day. It is just a matter of who.”

Theseus stepped forward. “Your Majesty, I volunteer to be the first.”

A smile formed on the King’s lips as Tauros chuckled behind him. “Your sacrifice pleases the gods,” the King said as he turned towards Ariadne. “Unlock the gate, Mistress.”

His daughter raised her eyes up to meet her father’s gaze and nodded. The guardsmen who had escorted them to the courtyard surrounded Theseus and pushed him in Ariadne’s direction. His captors grumbled that he refused to fight them as they shoved him towards his fate. Did they want the Minotaur’s next meal to be a little battered and bloody? Would it help the monster’s appetite? This time, the blasted beast would experience a prey who had not been beaten to a pulp. How would the Minotaur like that? The thought almost made Theseus smile. The guards stopped him midstride as the Mistress of the labyrinth unlocked the door. He was close enough to Ariadne now that he could lean into kiss her if he wanted. No matter how much he wanted to taste the salt on her lips, the defiance might alert the King and his court that Ariadne had betrayed them. If he succeeded, he vowed, he would be back for her. He would make Ariadne his bride. Not even the gods could stop him.

He thanked Gaia when the guards pushed him through the open gate into the labyrinth before he actually leaned towards the princess of Crete. A heartbeat later he heard the gate slam shut and the key twisted in the hole to lock him inside. Outside he heard the screams of his fellow Athenians as members of Minos’ court yelled insults Theseus knew would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his years. Once he had Ariadne with him, she would soothe away those dreams. He squared his shoulders and turned to his left to face the long corridor that led to the center of the labyrinth and the beast that lived there. Briefly, he glanced through the gate to catch one last glimpse of the beautiful daughter of Minos. Her love would see him through this. He would live to see Athens again.

A series of torches lined the exterior wall, but only three had been lit as far as Theseus could see. With the chorus of insults still echoing in from outside, the son of Aegeus took one hesitant step down the passage, and for the first time since he had arrived on the island, his heart began to thud so loudly in his chest he could hear it in his ears. His mother had whispered in his ear that he was a demigod –that he was also the son of Poseidon—so he was destined to do great things. He had trained more than the other youths in his grandfather’s court for a moment like this. He had listened to the tales of other demigods and no one of those tales had ever mentioned them feeling fear. Did it mean his mother had whispered a lie in his ear?

He could not doubt his mother’s words this day, not when the city of Athens depended on him to free her from the terror at the heat of the labyrinth. Theseus inhaled deeply and took another step deeper into the maze. His eyes darted around him, searching for any help that Ariadne might have provided him. No weapons or any other object could be found the further he walked. Had she spoken false words to him? He felt his stomach sink. Had she played him for a fool? A growl escaped his lips as he made his first turn down the labyrinth. One last torch had been lit and wedged between the wall and the sconce Theseus spotted a ball of twine. A grin formed on his lips as the emptiness in his gut vanished. Ariadne had told him that when she first started to care for the beast, she had needed the twine to help her find her way back out. Theseus snatched the twine and the torch and continued on his journey.

His eyes still darted about for other objects that Ariadne might have left to help him. His mind darted through every conversation he had shared with Minos’ daughter for hints. Their many talks had covered such a wide range of topics, making it difficult for Theseus to discover what might prove helpful. They were always watched, their words overheard by the princess’s escort. How they had fallen in love baffled the mind. But she seemed devoted to him and his cause. She would leave him something to help him battle the Minotaur. His answer came with the next turn in the maze: a sword had been lodged in one of the sconces in place of a torch. Theseus added the blade to his belt, his mind honing the clues Ariadne had given him –small tidbits that told him where to turn and when to replace his torch. The path was endless, and the longer he walked, the more he feared the ball of twine would unravel completely, leaving him no way to find his way back. Somehow the twine kept going. Had it been spun by Athena herself?

If losing his way back to the shrine was not enough to unnerve him, the silence began to eat at him as well. The only sounds that reached his ears were his own footsteps and the crackling of the torch’s flame. Surely by now, he would have heard the grumbling of the Minotaur’s voice, the beast’s hunger had to be making him impatient. No doubt his displeasure would echo up from the center along with his feet pounding against the stone floor. Yet Theseus heard nothing. He had taken in every detail, every word, his fellow Athenians could tell him about the beast. The monster should be pacing, eager for his next meal to find its way through the labyrinth. Could the Minotaur be asleep? It would make killing him much easier. Theseus whispered a prayer to the gods that his prey slumbered, but once the beast was dead, he would exaggerate the deed to impress not only the beautiful Ariadne but anyone else who wanted to listen.

With the grin still on his lips, he could almost hear the bards recounting his triumph across Greece. His mind’s eye could see children reenacting the deed when they played. Theseus let out a chuckle as he continued through the maze until the twine had nearly come completely undone. Down one last corridor, he saw a light dancing on the opposite wall. Theseus took a deep breath, relief washing over him. He dropped the last of the twine and pulled the sword out of his belt, slowing his pace the closer he came to the Minotaur. The beating of his heart pounded in his chest. His glory was on the other side of that wall. 

When he reached the edge of the doorway, the prince peaked around the door to catch a glimpse of his prey. But no large beast with the body of a man and the head of a bull greeted him. Instead, he set eyes on General Tauros with the light of the fire sparkling off his freshly polished armor. Where was the Minotaur?

The general chuckled. “I can see you, boy,” Tauros said. “It would be an honor if you would join me. I brought wine.”

Theseus stepped into the room at the center of the labyrinth. Nothing in this room was out of place. A soldier, not a monster, lived here. “Where is the Minotaur?”

Tauros smiled. “That is the secret: there is no Minotaur.”

“I don’t understand,” he replied as he stepped further into the room.

“Only part of the story of the monster is truth. Minos did ask for a sign and got it in the form of a white bull Poseidon expected to be sacrificed to him. When the King refused, his Queen got herself pregnant with the bull’s offspring. The birth killed the Queen and the child did not live much longer. I convinced the King we could use this story to our advantage, and it did when his son was murdered in Athens.”

“So what happens to the tributes that keep being sent here?”

“The maidens are married off, and if the youths do not agree to join our army, they are sent down here for me to kill,” the general explained. “Usually only one has to die before the others agree. I look forward to being your end.”

Theseus smiled. “I look forward to being yours.”