Ariadne(74)

The years passed. Theseus claimed his birthright in Athens and came to plunder Crete. He left Ariadne to die on Naxos; in time, he married me. And all the while, the young Hippolytus grew up, the only male in the tribe of the Amazons.

Theseus, of course, never mentioned his son to me. All of this precious knowledge, I had to collect in scraps from those indiscreet enough to let it fall within my hearing. Some of it I was to garner from Hippolytus himself.

I cannot think I will ever forget the day he arrived in our halls. It was a rare occasion that Theseus was at home and I was at his side in the throne room; both of us were perched on ornate carved chairs, shimmering with gold and finery. And so entered Hippolytus. Dressed plainly in a simple tunic held with a rope tied loosely at his waist, he looked a little unsure of himself. I felt suddenly overdressed; the heavy golden chains heaped at my neck, the gems sparkling at my wrist and on my fingers, the elaborate tower of curls piled atop my head. It had all seemed so elegant that morning; now I felt faintly ludicrous, like a peacock vainly fanning out its tail before the simple, honest creatures of the forest.

Hippolytus had nothing of his father in him; he bore the same bronze glow of his warrior mother. He stood far taller than Theseus, even though he had not yet reached his full height. There was nothing in his appearance to forewarn us of his identity. So when he opened his mouth to give his reason for requiring an audience with us, it took us both by surprise.

‘My name is Hippolytus,’ he said. He was quiet, uneasy in our grand surroundings, I could see, but still possessed of a calm sense of certainty. ‘The Amazon Queen, Hippolyta, is my mother and you – Theseus, King of Athens – you are my father.’

I gasped out loud. By now, I knew the story of Theseus’ rape of Hippolyta. It was yet another reason I had to despise him. But until this moment, I had not known there was a child. In the silence that followed, I saw Hippolytus take in a long breath before he spoke again.

‘I wish to make no claim on your throne. I do not challenge the right of your sons,’ he said. He nodded respectfully towards me as he spoke. ‘I come only to ask for a home with my father, for I cannot live with the Amazons any longer.’

And so, I saw straight away that he did not come to Athens the way that Theseus had, all those years ago, to claim Aegeus as his father. For Hippolytus, there was no blaze of glory, no conqueror’s tales or shocking revelations, just a simple honesty that was anathema to his lying father.

‘Why is this?’ Theseus demanded.

The hostility of his tone startled me. I had been so absorbed in the sight of this brave youth, I had not cast a glance at my husband to see how he took the news.

Hippolytus faltered, but only a little. Raising his eyes to his father, he explained that all had been well whilst he remained a child, raised in the loving circle of mother, aunts, sisters and female cousins who lavished him with great affection and taught him their skills; how to tame the wildest horses and shoot the most deadly arrows.

‘But as I grew up . . .’ A pain seemed to cross his features, an ache of loneliness.

I could see it for myself. As he grew older, the delicate features of the boy gave way to the emerging stature of the man he was to become and he could not be allowed to stay on an isle of women. He told us that his mother, Hippolyta, had sent him to Athens to make this request of us in payment for the outrage Theseus had perpetrated against her.

He spoke with a firm conviction, though he was a quiet youth and naturally restrained. Beside me on his throne, I felt Theseus shift, awaiting the barb concealed within the silken sheath. I saw his fingers slide towards that infernal club, always near him. I knew that he anticipated a vengeful son returning.

So Theseus glared at Hippolytus as he spoke, until he trailed off into silence. He had made his request and now it was in Theseus’ power – and his alone – to grant his wish.

Theseus remained silent.

At last, he stood. He walked to his son, quite openly looking him up and down. Taking in his physique, the slight swell of the muscles beneath his tunic, the height which I could see provoked him. I felt a sinking in my stomach. He would never allow this young man to stay. I did not know why it felt so important to me that he did. Perhaps I longed for my husband to right at least one of his old wrongs, to finally make amends for one of the crimes of his past.

‘I do not deny that I owe you a debt,’ Theseus growled at last.

I looked up, surprised. The churlish tone of his voice was at odds with his words.

‘You are entitled to our hospitality as a guest.’ He ground out the next part of the sentence reluctantly. ‘And as my son.’ With such an ungracious invitation issued, he turned on his heel and stalked from the room.

I felt my cheeks burn at my husband’s lack of grace and the harsh way he had treated such a gentle young man. I glanced about the court, at the elders who muttered at their king’s petulance. It was for me, once again, to smooth the troubled waters churned up by Theseus.

I stood. To my confusion, I felt a slight shaking in my legs as I walked towards Hippolytus but I was well practised now in hiding what I felt. ‘Come,’ I smiled at him. ‘Let me show you to our guest chambers, where the maids will prepare you a bath and food after your long journey.’

He shifted a little. ‘Thank you, my Queen,’ he replied. ‘But may I be shown to your stables now? I wish to tend to my horses first of all.’