Ariadne(20)
Theseus paused for a moment, looking beyond me, and I knew he saw himself on that hillside, being offered that choice. I saw the flame of sacrifice and glory mingled within him and how obviously he would burn to take that boulder-strewn climb of Virtue.
‘Of course, Heracles chose the rocky path and in due course he set forth on labours more gruelling and perilous than anyone could have imagined. It won him fame beyond reckoning – at a terrible cost, but one worth paying a thousand times over.
‘And so, the day came that I heaved aside the great rock and found beneath it the sword and sandals that proved my father was Aegeus. I had heard of this noble, wise leader many times and was satisfied indeed that my father truly was a man through whose veins ran greatness, a man fit to lead a city destined for immortal glory. I must now prove that I was worthy to be the son of the King of Athens, and so I set out upon my journey to claim my birthright. I had a choice: to go by sea, an easy and trouble-free route; or to go by land, a route beset by bandits, criminals and wild beasts. Like Heracles before me, I knew which path to choose.’
Theseus described to me the treacherous passage he made across the Isthmus of Corinth. The monstrous one-eyed giant Periphetes who wielded a mighty iron club but was no match for Theseus’ fists. The foul Sciron who begged passers-by to wash his feet and then kicked them into the waves which concealed a mighty sea turtle that had grown used to devouring these unfortunates, and that feasted upon its own master when Theseus hurled him into the sea himself. The hideous Sinis who tied travellers between two straining pine trees he had bent to the ground and then released to tear the pitiable victims in two, leaving their ragged remnants of flesh to adorn the trees.
At this last tale, I gasped in horror and Theseus smiled with grim satisfaction as he continued. ‘How he screamed as the pines shot back towards the sky – a scream abruptly curtailed by the wet, muffled sound his body made as it ripped apart! The bloody fate he had inflicted on so many was now his own. And so it continued as I made my way to Athens. I cleared the road of all the murderers and monsters that lined its way.’
‘All those who travelled that way must have given you great thanks,’ I said. ‘So many lives preserved that would otherwise have been lost.’ I knew that a hero should be brave and righteous and noble and honourable. I had never thought I would lay eyes upon such a one myself, even if I searched the world over. Theseus held my gaze, and I did not look away as he went on.
‘I arrived in Athens, my home and my own city that I had never set foot in before, and I believed my struggles to be at an end for I had surely proven my worth and my valour. But unbeknownst to me, Athens harboured a poisonous snake whose venom stained the land with the filth of her previous crimes. She was no simple brute upon the path, preying on lonely passers-by, but a far more conniving and dangerous creature. No need to lurk at barren cliff edges or deserted stretches of land; she flaunted herself before the whole of the city. For she was my father’s wife, the Queen of Athens: the witch Medea. And the most gruelling part of my labours had only just begun.’
His voice changed when he mentioned Medea; the calm and steady pride that had infused his tone as he recounted his noble exploits thickened with a bitter and viscous contempt that oozed through every syllable.
‘I had been long on the road, taking care to rout every single blot and stain of brigand and murderer and monster that had formerly teemed at its every curve and twist like swarming termites. In my absence, my father, Aegeus, began to despair that he would ever have a son to succeed him on the throne. His faith in the baby he thought he had left in the womb of my mother on Troezen all those years ago had ebbed, and bleak hopelessness consumed him. He fretted that he would never get an heir and that, on his death, the rule of Athens would be seized by the sons of Pallas, his bitterest rival.
‘In his despondency, he was weak in the face of the dark and evil arts which Medea wrought upon him.’ Theseus saw the change in my face at the mention of Medea. ‘You know of her?’ he asked.
I winced. ‘Her father is my uncle, though I have never met him or his daughter. He is my mother’s brother, son of Helios, but he lives far away in Colchis, a land of sorcery and witchcraft.’ I looked down at my hands, my fingers lacing together. Another shame we carried with us; another stain that befouled our name. For everyone knew that Medea had run away with the hero Jason. Everyone had heard how she stole her father’s treasured Golden Fleece to bestow upon her lover. But when Jason spurned her for another princess, an honourable woman, Medea burned her unlucky rival in a poisoned cloak and skewered her own sons that she had borne Jason, as though they were pigs, before fleeing to Athens in the chariot of Helios himself.
Theseus nodded. ‘I did not know the extent of her crimes when I arrived, or I would have struck her down in the halls of Aegeus’ palace, which she bestrode as though they were her own. I came to the gates to seek hospitality, concealing my identity, for I had planned to wait until the moment arose when I could proudly declare who I was and see my father overcome with joy.
‘Medea received me.’ He swallowed thickly. ‘I saw her glide imperiously towards me. I had marvelled at the patterned tiles and ornate friezes, the sumptuous gold, the jade pillars, the marble infused with glowing crimson, the onyx squares underfoot – but as I watched her walk, the dazzling wealth and opulence around her faded like smoke in her path. She swayed with a serpentine grace. She was beautiful, I will not deny it, but a miasma of horror, buzzing like flies around a corpse, trailed her wherever she went. The precious blood of her own sweet sons, slain by the bone-pale hands that now reached out to me in a mockery of welcome, stained the very air she breathed.