Ariadne(28)

I forced my shaking legs to stand. It was done. That fleeting impression of my brother thundering down the narrow passageways in pursuit of my blood – that was the last I would know of him. And whilst, for me, his childhood was drenched in a strange mixture of shame, fear and pity, I knew that the world would be a better place with one less monster rampaging through it.





10


The wash of night spilled over me as I stood outside the Labyrinth again. The sacred rites and rituals had been performed. As the sun set, the weeping, trembling hostages had been led in procession, descending to the terrible darkness of the Labyrinth. The doors had been bolted behind them and the holy priests who bore witness to the sacrifice had dispersed. From within, there was only silence. Silence that lasted longer than I thought my nerves could bear.

I saw it all in sickening detail. Theseus flailing in that putrid, eternal night as the Minotaur hunted him down through every corridor, round every corner, backing him relentlessly into one of those terrible dead ends where so many had fallen. I saw him skewered on the monster’s horns. I saw him hurled against the stone where his bones would shatter. I saw his blood on the Minotaur’s snout and I heard teeth ripping through his tender, living flesh.

I felt Theseus’ death a thousand times. I castigated myself for believing this to be possible, even for a great hero. To fight a savage creature ten times a man’s strength in pitch blackness? How could such a thing be done? How could I have deluded myself and given Theseus false hope? I wondered if he cursed me as he lay dying.

I gave myself up to a storm of weeping. I was anchored to the stone steps, weighted like lead by my despair. I had foolishly revelled in my love for Theseus, held it close around me like a precious robe, and my joy must have blazed across the heavens for all the gods to see. For that love, I had plotted the murder of my own brother and the betrayal of my father’s kingdom. And all so that my love could be gored in the Labyrinth and his body lie bloodied and broken until all that remained were bones, condemned to haunt the suffocating blackness forever, with no burial, no rest and no peace.

I do not know how long the knocking from the other side of the Labyrinth door had gone on before I raised my head and made myself realise what it was. No monstrous, blood-crazed bull creature was rapping the wood. That was the sound of human knuckles. It meant only one thing.

I flew to the door, swinging the sequence of bolts as quickly as the lightning that Zeus flashed through the sky. The door was yanked open smartly from inside as the last bolt was undone. The roiling stench seeped out again, but this time I did not care. For from that darkness, Theseus emerged, not shaken, not hurt, not dead! I had no pride; no sense of shame restrained me. I hurled myself upon him. I gloried in the sensation of his arms clasped tightly around me. The thick red twine still tied firmly to his wrist encircled me as I feverishly kissed his jaw and pressed my head to his chest and wept some more. He was murmuring my name and laughing softly as he attempted to prise me away but I was possessed of a madness I did not know I had in me.

‘Ariadne,’ he protested, ‘my love, we must go quickly to the ship!’

I became aware of the shuffling behind him. The Athenians were waiting, panicky and impatient. Of course. Theseus had saved his brothers and sisters, his fellow tributes to the beast. And whilst I clung to his neck and sobbed, I put all of our lives in danger once more.

I stepped back, taking him in. His face was grim and his robe was torn but he bore few other signs of a tussle, other than a gash on his right upper arm. I reached towards the wound, but he pushed me firmly aside, holding my hand tightly in his. ‘This way,’ he ordered.

I noticed that over his shoulder he had slung a bulging sack of coarse brown cloth. In his other hand, he swung his club. The moon shone down and I was briefly held mesmerised by the dark smears and bloody flecks of gristle across the club’s surface. I swallowed. He led us hastily around the walls of Knossos, flitting ahead in the night to ensure we were not seen. The shapes within the cloth bag shifted unpleasantly.

The youths and girls who followed us said nothing. Thirteen of them walked with us; Theseus had saved every single tribute. There would be nothing to blot this tale when he told it later; when it would be sung of him for generations to come. His heroism shone as clear and simple as the moonlight that guided us down, zigzagging through the rocks to a tiny cove. It scattered a broken path of silver across the waves. I imagined putting my foot on one of those bright shifting beams and finding it solid beneath me. I could follow its path right up to Selene, sleek and ghostly in the night sky.

But there was no need of such escape. Three rowing boats awaited us; three men standing anxiously by. Their faces broke into broad grins as Theseus slipped nimbly over the rocks, extending his free hand carelessly behind him to help me over them. I stumbled, righted myself on the damp sand. Theseus was embracing his comrades, slapping their backs, laughing quietly.

The young Athenians were wading out into the shallows to board the small boats. I turned and scanned the rocks. Where was she?

Oars slapped the water. The men who had waited were beginning to row two of the boats away, to the black-sailed ship that I knew was waiting out there in the vast, dark ocean. Theseus disengaged his fingers from mine and threw the cloth sack to the ground.

‘Theseus, where is Phaedra?’ I asked.

He looked at me, fixing me again with that cool, green gaze. ‘She was not here,’ he answered. ‘I told her where to be, but my men have waited here since sunset and she has not come.’