Ariadne(39)

I would have taken his remains to shore and left them to be carried away by the sea, but I took Pasiphae to the palace tomb. Let him be buried with the fallen Kings of Crete. If they were anything like Minos, he would not be the worst to lie there. I think she was grateful to me, but I would not stay in the place of the dead with her. I left her crying, in the dark.

It had chafed against my nature all of my life to wait passively for things to happen. But that day, I didn’t know what else to do. I went to the cove, searched for any hidden message, any clue or sign from Ariadne or Theseus. The waves rolled in on the sand, as always, and I came away no wiser. At length, the sun set and I had to return empty-handed to Knossos.

I went via the tomb again, suspecting Pasiphae would not have moved. A soft sound drifted from the open door as I approached. Not crying, but singing. A low, plaintive hymn. I had not heard my mother sing since before the Minotaur was born. The distant, half-forgotten echo of it rippled through my veins. A flash of her face, blurred but smiling. I wrapped my arms close around my body, dragging my feet. I didn’t want to get too close. I could see her kneeling figure by the bier, a heavy cloth mercifully cloaking what lay heaped upon it.

The moonlight shone upon the ornate frieze above the tomb entrance. Pasiphae’s song came to an end and I watched as she lifted her hands to her face. Her profile was cast in silver and shadows; the ravaged beauty of her face was almost unbearable. I nearly turned away as she dragged her nails downwards through her flesh, blood slipping down in thin streaks. I felt the tears I had gritted my teeth against all day begin to rise.

‘It will be over soon.’

I whirled around at the sound of a man’s voice behind me, my breath coming sharply.

‘Sorry, Phaedra, I did not mean to startle you.’

I pressed my hand against my forehead. It was slick with sweat. A guilty conscience, maybe. ‘Rhadamanthus, I did not hear you approach.’

He extended a wrinkled hand and placed it gently on my shoulder. ‘You are very tired, my dear,’ he said kindly. He nodded towards the open tomb, the grey strands of his hair ruffling in the breeze. ‘I meant only to say that your mother’s vigil will end soon.’

‘Did she really love that thing?’ I blurted. I hadn’t known the question was so close to the surface. ‘How can she grieve for it like this, knowing what it was?’

He pursed his thin lips. The folds of his papery skin drew in, carving ever deeper lines across his face. ‘Does she grieve for the beast?’ he asked. ‘Or with its death, does she grieve for what it represented? What was done to her all those years ago, that so scattered her mind, perhaps now it is ended she can afford to mourn it?’

I looked at him, surprised. No one had ever spoken of Pasiphae like this. I was used to the sliding insinuations, the ever-present whisper that trailed behind her wherever she went in Crete. Rhadamanthus sounded sympathetic and it floored me for a moment. I felt momentarily guilty for the dismissive way I had talked of him, seeing only how his elderly limbs trembled and his voice quavered. I had plucked him out as the worst example of a husband Crete had to offer. Then Minos had presented Cinyras – already gone back to Cyprus, horrified by further evidence of just how depraved our family was. And Ariadne had found Theseus. Our girlish fancies could not have conjured up anything more magnificent. But where was my sister now?

‘With your father gone so suddenly, I have assumed his role today,’ Rhadamanthus told me, seeing that I was not capable of a response to what he had said about Pasiphae. ‘But I assure you, Princess, it is only born of necessity. I have sent a ship to Lycia directly, to call your brother home. The throne is Deucalion’s – until Minos returns at least.’ He looked troubled. I wondered what he thought of Minos’ rash and reckless absence.

I nodded. ‘Thank you.’

In the tomb, Pasiphae stirred, began to stand. Rhadamanthus gave me a courteous nod and hobbled away. I stood, waiting for my mother’s stiff limbs to carry her back to me. When she reached the doorway, although her face was smeared with her own blood, her hair tumbled around her face and her dress torn, her eyes met mine and did not flick away.

I put my arm around her and guided her home.

Minos could have sailed his navy against Athens, but in truth I think he feared to do so. Theseus had beaten him so easily, cracking open his Labyrinth and smashing his feared Minotaur’s skull like an egg on the sand. The last thing that Minos could risk was to lose a war on top of everything else. But he was burning for revenge. So he had set out that morning instead in search of Daedalus. Whether to kill him or capture him, I am not sure even he knew.

But how do you hunt down the craftiest, most cunning man alive? Minos had the wit, I suppose, to know that Daedalus would find no shortage of powerful allies eager to protect him in exchange for just one drop of his knowledge and his skill. Minos knew better than to lead a rampage against a man like Daedalus. So, to our mounting disbelief, he sent back his men on his mighty ship after only a few days. He travelled in disguise, traipsing on foot from city to city in his search. When the soldiers returned without him and told us this, I thought he must have gone quite mad.

The next few days were fraught with worry. No word reached us of Minos or Ariadne, and there was no sign of the ship sent to bring Deucalion home either. I knew how the restive nobles of Crete already felt about us and for those days, I felt mine and Pasiphae’s fate hang precariously in the balance. For all the respect Rhadamanthus commanded in the court, he was but an old man standing between any number of rapacious young men hungry for power and the throne that stood so temptingly before them. It was with increasing anxiety that I scanned the horizon for ships. I hoped that my brother, on the raw cusp between child and young man when last I saw him, had learned well from his uncle how to rule a city. So it was with an enormous sigh of relief that at last I saw the familiar scarlet sails in the harbour.