Ariadne(35)

‘You would be dead if it wasn’t for me!’ I screamed at Theseus across the cliffs, over the indifferent ocean. ‘Your flesh would be rotting off your bones in the Labyrinth if I had not saved you! You are no hero, you faithless coward!’ I sagged forward; I didn’t have the energy to continue much longer. The tears that were streaming down my face were born of a terrible frustration: I had offered up my own brother to further the glory of Theseus. He would be bragging of how he had beaten the monster of Crete to death and scattered his bones – without a word to acknowledge my part, my sacrifice, what I had done for him. And he would not tell of how he had crept out before dawn and left me sleeping, unsuspecting, whilst he slunk away. That shameful retreat would not feature in his boasts, would it? I thought of his tales of glory and heroism that had so captivated me – and my sister, too. I wondered what he had not told. How many women had he left in his path before me? How many had he charmed and seduced and tricked into betrayal before he went upon his way, another woman’s life crumbled to dust in his fist, claiming every victory for himself alone? I thought of Phaedra; she had loved him too, of course. I had seen it shining on her face and he had left her – on purpose, no doubt. He must never have intended to bring her along, I thought numbly; she was never part of his plan. He had left her first, before he left me.

I was on my knees now, gasping with the shock of my fury as though I had been doused in cold water. I pounded my hands against the stone slabs beneath me. All I had done since he had left was picture his return, envisaging myself running into his arms and holding him close, begging for him to stay. Now, before my eyes, red-tinted visions of his return were rising uncontrollably but instead of embracing him, I would tear his head from his shoulders with my bare hands.

Another shriek tore its way out of my throat. What good were grapes, what good was a tiny fragment of hope? I grabbed the remaining clusters and tore them down, flinging them at the rocks that lined the cliff edge. Their purple juice spilled over my fingers as they split in my clenched fists, staining like blood, like the blood of my brother that I had helped Theseus spill, like the blood that told me Theseus had not left me with child – no scrap of himself remaining – like the blood that still flowed in my veins but soon would stop. I would die here, alone on this island, and no one would mourn me.





13


Phaedra


I stood on the rocks, searching the empty black waters that stretched before me for hours. Theseus had been so clear and I knew I had not misremembered his directions. So I stayed, silent and still, watching for him. The great bulk of Knossos loomed behind me, blotting the moon from the sky. It was so dark but I waited for hours. I didn’t doubt Theseus’ success in the Labyrinth. I had seen the fear and doubt mingled in Ariadne’s eyes, but my sister was always afraid. Not like me. I had always known that monsters existed. I could not fear the destruction of all that was good because everything had been ruined before I could remember and I had grown up in the tattered, stained remnants of my sister’s golden days. She knew what it was to lose everything but I had nothing to begin with.

I thought of the tales that Theseus had told. He was strong, heroic and good. I knew that he could not fail. So I would not fail him. I clung steadfast to my rock all of that night, until dawn began to seep through the dark skies before my disbelieving gaze. How could it be morning? We could not sail away to Athens without the cloak of night.

I climbed down from the rock on which I perched, scouring the sea for any sign, every muscle in my body cramped and aching. I crept towards the slumbering palace, stealthy as a cat. I wondered if there was a problem with the ships, if Theseus and Ariadne and the hostages cowered somewhere, unable to leave. It would be my job then to somehow distract attention away from them until night fell again. I had to get back to Knossos and feign total ignorance of it all. Their lives might well depend upon it.

I had always steered clear of those long steps down to the Labyrinth’s entrance, but this time I steeled myself to tiptoe right to the edge and peer down. I was sure, so sure that he was dead now. I was brave. I could look.

I leaned right over the edge and blood flooded to my head. I closed my eyes for a moment, then forced them open and glared into the darkness. A breeze stirred around me, the day awakening, and the heavy door below that was always bolted and secure creaked a long, slow groan as it swung steadily open. The thump it made against the stones made me jump and I sprang back, clutching my hands over my heart.

So. The Labyrinth was open. Theseus had succeeded. There was no sign of him, the thirteen other Athenians or Ariadne – but they couldn’t all have vanished into thin air. I thought quickly. I would hurry round to the front of the palace, where it overlooked the sea from the other side. Satisfied with my plan, I slipped noiselessly through the murky light.

I expected all to be silent, but as I rounded the corner to the splendid front colonnade of Knossos, a great shout went up from the palace walls. Along the length of it, shout after shout rebounded, all of the watchmen suddenly startled into life. My mouth went dry. Had they seen Theseus’ ship before he had time to escape? Were they at the bay where I had waited, looking for me now? My heart twisted agonisingly; I should have stayed at my post.

But as I looked up at the watchman at the post nearest to me, I could see that he gazed upwards into the sky, not down towards the sea. What had he seen? I stole closer to the edge, my hand against a mighty pillar as I searched the empty expanse of ocean below. Nothing. I turned my face up to where the watchman was looking. A bird – bigger than any bird I had seen – swooped suddenly through the air in front of my eyes. A smaller one soared beside it, their great white wings flapping awkwardly. I squinted in confusion. No bird was so graceless, so ungainly, at least no bird I had ever seen. But before my eyes, the bigger shape resolved itself into something recognisable though utterly impossible.