Ariadne(31)

‘No doubt the solitude was welcome,’ Theseus said, a teasing note in his voice.

‘Why would that be?’ Gods did not like solitude, I thought. They thrived on worship; smoking altars heaped high with offerings and kept busy with a thousand prayers.

A little passageway led to a narrow staircase which he began to climb. The stone was smooth and worn beneath my feet as I followed.

‘To keep a lover away from the prying eyes of the world,’ he said as we rounded a corner at the top into another room.

The bed stood wide in the centre of the room, piled up with rich gold fabric and soft coverlets. I could see that Theseus was right. The decadent luxury was at odds with the humble charm of the rest of the dwelling. It was a bed fit for a god: maybe Zeus himself had dallied here with a mortal woman that he strove to keep secret from his jealous wife, Hera. I wondered what had happened to her, if so. For Zeus had many trysts but was legendarily careless about keeping them secret, and Hera’s revenges were the subject of endless stories. It was the women, always the women, be they helpless serving girls or princesses, who paid the price. Cursed to roam the land without refuge, transformed into a shambling bear, a lowing cow or burned to ashes by the vengeful white-armed goddess. I wondered if it was worth it, to defy every law that governed us and lie with a god in a golden bed.

The air in the room had thickened. I had broken every law I knew how to already. A high, narrow window spilled a beam of light into the room and in the distance I could hear the soft splashing of the waves against the shore but no sound from any of Theseus’ men or the freed Athenian captives. Somewhere far away, my father would be discovering my treachery and setting his guards across Crete to hunt me down. But here, Theseus and I were hidden.

I forced my eyes upwards to meet Theseus’ gaze. Yes, I had broken the laws that bound our society, but had I not broken them for a greater purpose? And having broken so many, did I have anything now left to lose?

The chasm in the earth had split apart beneath my feet, but I had Theseus with me and he would keep me safe. I had no place in the world except by his side. And there was nowhere else I had wanted to be, from the moment I had first laid my eyes upon him.

Tomorrow, Theseus would spirit my sister from Crete to attend our wedding. Today, we were all alone.

I felt the same flash of courage, defiance and desire sizzle through me that I had felt when I set my heart on him at Knossos. There were no doubts left in me now. I drew Theseus towards me and let him pull me down on a bed fit for a god.





11


The moment I awoke, I knew there was something wrong. I opened my eyes to darkness. There was a strange quality to the emptiness around me. I knew that Theseus was not by my side and a tiny flame of panic began to smoulder within me.

Where was he? I pulled a swathe of gold cloth around me and padded to the window. It was high and small and I had to stretch up to be able to see out of it. The fading stars told me it was shortly before dawn.

The little house was silent. I didn’t know where Theseus’ men had rested the previous day but we had had this place to ourselves, just the two of us. At some point, Theseus had retrieved from the pantry some food that they had left on their journey to Crete, to await us – salted meat and dry slabs of hard bread and olives. A sweet, sticky wine as well. It had seemed like a feast. I saw Theseus lying there beside me, propped up on one elbow, sipping his wine deeply whilst his eyes roamed across my body, smiling. A rock of certainty in the pit of my stomach told me that he was not in the pantry now, rummaging for breakfast. The house was too quiet for that.

The fabric was cold and slippery against my skin and I longed for the warm circle of Theseus’ arms. The house was full of shadows. ‘Theseus?’ I called and I shivered at how thin and quavering my voice sounded. I knew no answer would come, but I still strained for the reassuring boom of his voice through the cottage. He would make the solitude seem welcome and the strangeness exciting. Feeling like the last two people in the world was thrilling; feeling like the only one was terrifying.

There was not much to search in the cottage. Upstairs, there was only one other room which contained a long-abandoned loom, its workings clogged with dust. I wondered about the woman who had sat at it – and how long ago. Had she woven tapestries to tell the stories of what had happened to her here? The sight of it struck a desolate chord within me. She was gone, all evidence of her disappeared.

I hurried down the stairs. The kitchen was dim and still, unchanged from yesterday. I could see the line I had dragged in the dust across the table with my finger. There was another room down here with a couch but still no Theseus. I pushed the door at the end which opened on to a small, square courtyard. A little marble statue stood on a raised plinth in the centre. A young man, his head haloed with curls and his mouth lifted in an amused smile. The cup clasped in one hand told me it was Dionysus, a god devoted to wine and enjoyment. Here, in this chill and deserted courtyard, his mirth seemed ludicrously misplaced.

I stepped out between the two central pillars that held up the roof and stood beneath the dawn sky. No glorious pink and golden sunrise today; instead, the morning was seeping through the air in misty clouds. I searched the fog, calling out again, ‘Theseus? Theseus?’

He could have gone down to the shore to meet with his men. Perhaps he planned to sail early this morning and was making preparations. No doubt he had left me to sleep as much as possible and would be making his way back to wake me when it was time to depart. This lonely start to the morning was just a sign of how thoughtful, how considerate my husband was to let me sleep.