Ariadne(21)

‘Bronze bracelets clattered on her wrists as she moved; the same bronze that softened her eyes and veiled the ruby malevolence I would see sparkle within their depths later. The same bronze tints your own eyes, Ariadne, beautiful granddaughter of the sun. How two such very different branches could spring from the same tree is a mystery to me. Your sweet goodness is anathema to every aspect of her.’

I felt an uncoiling of the tension which had crept upon me as he described Medea and her beauty. Although scorn breathed through every syllable he spoke of her, I could not help but wonder if admiration bubbled underneath, like a stream flowing into a mightier river. He was repulsed by her crimes, I knew, but her captivating charms were just as legendary.

‘I met my father that night. He was genial and welcoming; a lean and sprightly man who carried himself with a quiet watchfulness that told me, a fellow warrior, that he would be prepared for anything. I did not know that some of the wary alertness I could detect within him was due to the concoction of lies that the murderous witch had spun for him. She had told him that I was a criminal, a usurper, a despicable killer come to infiltrate the palace and seize it for myself through brutish violence. She had convinced him to allow her to place a cup of poison before me when it was time to raise a toast to the King. I would drain it and die before I could carry out my evil intent.

‘Medea held court to us all, laughing and chatting brightly, her cheeks faintly flushed with pleasure. In her arms she dandled the baby boy she had borne Aegeus to enmesh him all the more deeply in her enchantments. He was a sickly, meagre-looking infant. Perhaps he knew what had become of his innocent brothers and so feared the nourishment of his mother’s milk, lest it should pour out as venom and scorpions and burn him from within.

‘At length, she turned her strange bronze eyes upon me and smiled. Briefly, I was as a moth, compelled towards her, swooping dizzily towards my own doom. I reached for my cup, but nimbly she swiped it from me. “Good Theseus,” she tinkled archly. “Your cup is empty! Let me refill it at once so that you may toast the King!” Her eyes flashed upwards at me as she poured.’

I sat bolt upright. Even though Theseus stood before me, his safety assured from this long-past danger, I could not bear to think of him so close to jeopardy. The night air held a slight chill now and I rubbed at the goosebumps that prickled on my arms.

‘As I staggered to my feet to raise a toast, a sudden rush to my head robbed me of my speech and my usual clarity of thought. I felt too hot, too clumsy, too confused and I wondered how strong the wine was and how much of it I had drunk already. My sword was at once unspeakably heavy, buckled at my hip, and I tugged at the leather bonds to loosen it.

‘In that second, just as Medea poured the last glittering drops into the wrought bronze cup and raised her face to me, my sword slipped forward a little, exposing its golden hilt, and even as I extended my hand for the goblet, the full force of my father’s shout shattered the clouds that swirled like fog in my brain and the world came racing back to me as clear and sharp as glass.

‘Aegeus dashed the cup from my hand before I could lift it an inch off the table. The liquid that Medea had poured hissed and spat angrily, bubbling up as it gnawed through the slab of dark wood. I stared at it, not fully comprehending, as his bellow echoed in my ears like a battle cry: “My son!”

‘I looked at my father, but his eyes were fixed upon the sword swinging at my side. The sword he had placed beneath the boulder at Troezen; the sword only his son could wield.

Medea recoiled from us both. “Imposter!” she cried wildly. She clasped at her husband’s arm, imploring him to look at her, but he gazed only on me now. “Aegeus, this is not your son!” The words spilled from her lying tongue too quickly, too desperately. “I have seen his soul; the dark, filthy core of it. This man brings us only harm – you must listen to me, Aegeus! I saw your death the moment he crossed our threshold! I saw you, gasping in the freezing depths of the ocean, dashed from a cliff, and this man is the cause!’ Her words rose to a panicked shriek, but she could see they would do her no good—’

‘So Aegeus saw you, truly!’ I interrupted him in my excitement.

He nodded gravely. ‘The baby she had borne my father was not fit to rule his kingdom. A moment of perfect understanding passed between us and I knew he saw it all clearly now. He commanded her to run. She tripped over her skirts as she ran, hiccuping with sobs. She did not rear up in a monstrous rage. She did not try her spells upon us. She did not reach into her soul for the violence she had wrought upon Jason’s sons, the fruit of her own womb. Instead, she fled. It was as though she were afraid. The mighty sorceress had been toppled and we saw how very small and weak she truly was.’

‘Where did she go?’ I asked. I wondered what city would take her in when she left in her wake a father betrayed, a husband bereft of his sons, a king nearly tricked into murdering his own rightful heir.

Theseus shrugged carelessly. ‘Who knows? But Athens was cleansed of her terrible presence, and I began at once to learn from Aegeus how to rule over the city. I prepared to be a fair king, like he was, to uphold the laws and ensure justice and peace reigned.’

I realised how close I was leaning towards him. As he had told his story, I had found myself drawn in, further and further, fascinated by how simple he made it sound. Where there was evil, he routed it rather than weighing it up to see how he could turn it to his own advantage. Where there was terror and darkness, he vanquished it and flooded the world with searing light. He would serve his city as a righteous ruler. He would not sit, cold and implacable like Minos, content to reign over the broiling, seething hatred and fear that held Crete’s citizens in place. I felt a certainty; a sense of safety that I had not known before. Theseus beside me now felt like an anchor, holding me fast to steady ground, bathed in clear light.