Ariadne's Heart

Ariadne watched as Theseus lingered by the labyrinth gate. Her chest tightened as her heart pounded beneath her ribcage. A bead of sweat slid down her forehead and over her right cheek. Would the Athenian youth find the twine and the sword she had hidden for him? The uncertainty did not help calm her nerves; it only made it worse. She had so much hope riding on his success–that he would be able to do what he had boasted to her in private. Could he defeat the Minotaur? She had trusted the tributes who had gone down before him to put an end to her monstrous brother only to have them fail. 

Too many nights she had cried herself to sleep after hearing the Minotaur howl in victory. She wanted to hope that Theseus would be different--that he would keep his promise to both kill the vicious beast and then get her off the island afterward. The voice of her father’s general, a thickly muscled man named Tauros, echoing from across the courtyard reminded her she was running out of time. A tear joined the sweat on her cheek. She could not marry that man no matter what her parents wanted.

A shiver running up her spine made her shoulders tense. The princess closed her eyes and tilted her head slightly back until the discomfort passed. Her father, the king, had not agreed to the marriage simply for political reasons. No, it had been the general’s devotion to Minos and his court that had led her father to agree to the match. Ariadne took a long, deep breath, willing the tension in her shoulders to vanish. With any luck, she reminded herself, she had flirted enough with Theseus to convince him of her “love” for him. None of the Athenians knew the city enough to get themselves to the docks in the dark. It would take Theseus until dusk at the earliest to get back to the gate. She had encouraged him to rest at every opportunity, both on the way down as well as the way up.

She opened her eyes and gazed through the iron bars to see that Theseus had started his descent. To keep herself from grinning, Ariadne inhaled and pivoted around to face her father, his court, and the tributes who still lingered in the shrine’s courtyard. Around her, she could hear the whispers reminding her he was her last time as Mistress of the Labyrinth. Once the last tribute was locked inside, the duties would be passed to her younger sister until it was her turn to become a wife. She, Ariadne, would also become a wife, just not to Theseus or General Tauros. She kept that thought in her mind as she closed the distance between her and her father. Minos ignored her long enough to finish his conversation with his chief soldier. Tauros stayed next to his king when Minos turned toward her with a grin on his face. Ariadne paid the general no attention; he was merely reminding the court he had earned the right to wed the king’s eldest daughter.

“It is a pity that lad could not be convinced to betray Athens,” Minos said with a frown on his lips.

With a weak smile, Ariadne replied, “I know I’ve disappointed you in this, my lord, but I promise you, I did everything I could think of to persuade him that would not compromise my virtue.”

“I don’t doubt it, my child.” Her father gave her a small smile in return. “Attend to the other tributes then rest if you can. I’ll send another messenger down when it’s time to send the next Athenian into the labyrinth.”

Ariadne pressed her tongue against the back of her teeth as she curtseyed to her father to keep the rude comment at the back of her throat unspoken. She would not defy her father –her king—by reminding him that she knew the rituals of the sacrifice better than most. Too many times before she had seen what Minos did to any person who insulted him. She refused to be one of them. Minos couldn’t send her into the labyrinth as a treat for the Minotaur for her half-brother would never hurt her. And he didn’t see her marriage to Tauros as a punishment. Only the gods knew how the king would treat her for disobedience.

Minos turned towards his general and nodded. Tauros pivoted to his left and clapped his hands. The king’s courtiers went silent as they stepped in behind their lord to follow him back to the palace. Ariadne stayed put until the last of her father’s court vanished from the shrine’s courtyard. When the gate was shut behind them, she turned towards the Athenians who still lingered outside. Not one of the maidens had stayed to watch the king leave, and only two of the youths could be seen. They huddled near the door, their eyes focused on her. The princess of Crete smiled and joined her guests to ask what she could do for them and their fellow tributes.

“We wish nothing from you, princess,” the taller of the two snapped. “Please excuse us, we must check on our friends.”

Ariadne offered them her nicest smile. “I will not bother you then, but if you change your mind, I’ll be in my chambers. One of the servants will send for me.”

The youths said nothing more as they turned from her. For a moment, she thought she heard one of them call her a whore. She waited until the two youths had crossed the great hall partway before she took one more step towards the door. As she entered the shrine, all eyes turned towards her. The maidens huddled together along the southern wall, keeping themselves as far away from the youths as they could. Ariadne hid a smirk. Did they honestly believe anyone in Knossos thought their virtue was still intact? She had no doubt their groans of pleasure had been heard as far away as Athens. But she would hold her tongue as well as pretend ignorance. Their eyes followed her as she traversed the hall. She would encourage them to get some rest if they could but they would not listen to a word she spoke.

When she finally reached her chambers, she dismissed her room slave. “Wake me at dusk if I have not emerged by then,” she commanded before the girl could slip out the door. Ariadne waited until the door clicked shut before she crawled into bed, her mother’s disapproving voice scolding her for not changing into a nightdress echoed in her ears. She fell into a sleepless slumber that was only interrupted a heartbeat later with a hand gripping her shoulder.

“The tributes are asking for you, my lady princess,” her slave’s voice whispered.

Ariadne nodded and pushed herself out of bed. Her eyes glanced towards the sliver of a window to see that the sky had just started to darken for the day. Theseus must be nearly to the monster by now. Her heart began to pound in her chest. Shivering, she took her eyes from the window and pivoted towards the door.

“I will call for you if I need you,” Ariadne said as she exited her bedchamber.

The light outside had dimmed enough for the temple slaves to light a series of torches along the corridor. As much as she appreciated the flames dancing on the walls, she could walk the entire shrine blindfolded if she had to –she had proved it enough times in the presence of the high priestess. She followed the crackling flames to the great hall where the tributes still remained gathered. The maidens hadn’t left their huddle, but the youths paced, rubbing their hands together. At the sight of her emerging from the corridor brought their attention on her. Ariadne gave them a polite smile as she joined them.

“Theseus says we can trust you,” one boasted.

“It would please me greatly if you could,” she told them, “but I know that is asking a lot.”

“He claims he trusted you,” another voice called out. “That you promised to help him.”

“Did you deliver?”

She let the smile grow on her lips before she answered. “I provided him the means to kill the Minotaur and the way back to the gate. It is up to him now.” She raised her hand to keep more questions from heading her way. “I hope to lead you down to the docks to your boat.”

“Theseus is a demigod!” a maiden shouted at her. “A son of Poseidon. Why do you doubt him?”

Ariadne turned to the huddled maidens, her smile vanishing from her lips. “The last group of tributes made many of the same offers and failed to deliver. But your words bring me hope.”

“Does he really mean to marry you, princess?” another maiden asked.

“Let us see him back to the gate before we make any other promises. Now if you will excuse me, I need to watch the gate. The only thing I didn’t provide him was a way out.”

None of the tributes called out any more questions as she traversed the great hall; she could feel their eyes on her as she exited the shrine. She loathed the endless questions the tributes yelled at her day after day, but she had been trained to be the ideal hostess from the day she understood the words coming out of her mother’s mouth. And if Theseus succeeded at his task, never again would Ariadne have to bother with such things ever again. The thought made her grin as she stepped into the courtyard. The sky had gone darker since she had exited her room. A single torch burned next to the gate, providing just enough light to see inside the labyrinth. 

How much longer would she have to wait to know if he had succeeded? No howling had woken her from her slumber, which could mean nothing. She had slept through the Minotaur’s roar more than once.

A stone bench stood next to the gate. It had been put there when the monster had first been trapped inside for a guard to rest between the times the beast had tried to break down the gate. Once the Minotaur had understood he would no longer be allowed out of the labyrinth, the guard was no longer needed. However, the bench had never been moved. Ariadne only used it on the nights when the tribute had been sent inside to wait to see if they had managed to slay the beast. She lowered herself onto the cold stone and listened for Theseus’ footsteps echoing up the path. With every tribute sent into the labyrinth, she expected –no, hoped—to hear them running up from the depths of Daedalus’ creation. Was it hope that made her heart pound inside her?

Time ticked by at a crawl, first only measured by the darkening of the sky above her and then by the movement of the moon across the sky. Still, her hopes remained unfulfilled. Ariadne crossed her arms around her to ward off the night chill. Her body shivered, and Theseus still did not come. Where was he? Not every demigod could be a hero, no matter what the stories said. Some might come to nothing, their names destined to be forgotten. Would Theseus join the line of young men to dash her hopes? She took measured breaths until her heart calmed enough in her chest to hear the tapping of feet on stone.

Ariadne grinned as she jumped to her feet and raced to the gate. An instant later, Theseus’ face filled the other side, a smile on his face. “I did it, beloved!” he exclaimed. “The beast is dead.” A chuckle escaped her lips as she struggled for the key on her belt to release her savior from his prison. She barely got the door unlocked when the Athenian pushed the gate open so he could plant his lips on hers.

The princess pushed him away. “We’ll have time to celebrate later, I promise,” she whispered. “We’d best hurry before my father and his court discover what’s happened.”

She led him across the courtyard and into the shrine where the Athenians still lingered. None of them hesitated to follow her through their prison to the docks where their boat and its captain waited. The journey was a blur. Ariadne could not put what she felt into words, not at all, but she cast aside the idea and focused on the sea voyage. To pass the time, the Athenians and their captain took stock of their supplies and found their stores lacking.

“There is an island called Naxos not far from here,” she told them. “Satyrs devoted to Dionysus call it home. They would be happy to supply us in exchange for a story or two.”

“I know of this island,” the captain nodded. “I will get us there in good time, Poseidon willing.”

Thanks to the sea god’s good mood, they reached Naxos near dawn, mooring their boat on the beach. Once they all had come ashore, the youths began searching for wood to build a small fire. Ariadne huddled with the maidens, peaking into the wood at the edge of the beach every now and again. She spotted a horned figure spying on them as they rested. A smile decorated her lips at the sight. That was no satyr, she knew; she had dreamed of him too many nights before not to know that her beloved Dionysus had taken the form of a satyr to hide from Hera. He lingered there until Theseus’ voice rose up above the chatter the Athenians had been whispering.

“We have a long day ahead of us,” he told them. “Let us get some sleep to build up our strength for the rest of the voyage.”

No one argued with Theseus. A few had already curled up in a ball and fallen asleep. Theseus snuggled next to her, and when she was certain that all of them were asleep, she inched away from the Athenian and came to her feet. Ariadne raced across the beach as fast as the sand would let her and into the woods. She followed the sound of women singing mixed with an assortment of instruments. More than once she tripped over loose branches on her way to a clearing. When she emerged, Dionysus and his entourage stopped their dancing and their music to stare at her. The young god broke away from his followers to approach her.

“You’re late, beloved,” he whispered, a shy smile forming on his face.

“Better late than never, my lord,” she returned.

The words barely escaped her lips when Dionysus leaned in to kiss her.