Monsters of Greek Mythology, Volume Two (19 page)
Read Monsters of Greek Mythology, Volume Two Online
Authors: Bernard Evslin
Perseus heard his own voice thundering through the chamber. “Stop!”
Silence fell. Perseus saw the king staring at him, saw him bare his teeth in a wolfish snarl and nod to his Royal Guard. They raised their axes and advanced in formation.
“I have redeemed my pledge, oh king,” said Perseus. “And I have flown across the world to bring you a gift. But I didn't know it would be a wedding gift.”
He put his hand in his pouch. “Mother!” he shouted. “Close your eyes!”
He raised high the head of Medusa, and stood immediately in a gallery full of statues. Stone guards stood with stone axes poised. A snarling statue of Polydectes stood on the steps to the throne. There were statues of courtiers caught in mid-bow, smiling toward the king, or staring toward Perseus. And among the grove of statues stood the white, trembling, beloved figure of his mother.
Perseus went to her and took her in his arms. “I'm home now,” he said. “Your past is a nightmare. Your future will be a happy dream. Our enemy, the king, has become his own monument.”
“Two kings,” whispered Danae. “Praise the gods, Perseus. Their whim is our fate. Look ⦔
She pointed to one of the stone figures. It was a bearded man wearing a crown.
“Who is it?”
“Your grandfather, Acrisius ⦠attending the nuptials of a fellow king, not knowing the bride was his own daughter.”
“Your fatherâwho shut you in the tower?”
“Yes, to thwart a prophecy that a son of mine would kill him.”
“Delighted to oblige,” said Perseus. “My grandfather's stony heart deserves a body to match. I met another loathsome father in my travels. Not quite so bestial as yours, perhaps, but bad enough. That reminds me: I've married his daughter. Come meet her.”
The next day, Perseus was polishing his shield, admiring the way the head of Medusa had burned its reflection into the metal. To his amazement, the head spoke out of the shield:
“Throw me into the sea.”
He gaped at it silently. It spoke again. “Into the sea, which is my home.”
“No! I need you,” cried Perseus. “You are the ultimate weapon. With your help, I'll go from victory to victory.”
“Beware, Perseus. You cannot be constantly turning your enemies into stone without a deadly hardness entering your own heart. Stop using me as a weapon. Fight in the normal way. Take your chance of being killed. Don't let success petrify you.”
“How can winning harm anyone? Only losers lose.”
“Not so. We monsters know that monstrous destruction leaves no winners.”
“Must I really give you up then?”
“Yes, my lovely boy. For your own sake, be rid of me. Go on to other warm-blooded conquests.”
Perseus took Medusa's head to the shore. He looked directly into her face, unafraid, knowing he would not be turned to stone. For he had learned to love her face. And love drives out fear.
He kissed her lips and dropped the head into the sea. It sank to the bottom. And there it is to this day, rolling with the tides, making coral where it goes.
THE MINOTAUR
For my son, Tom
who tracks numbers down labyrinthine ways,
and now has a young Daedalus on his hands,
even as his father did â¦
So, of course, this is also for his son,
Jarah Evslin
Characters
Monster
The Minotaur (MIHN oh tor) | Half man, half bull, wholly fatal |
Cretans
Minos (MEE nohss) | King of Crete; Emperor of the Lands of the Middle Sea |
Ariadne (air ih AD nee) | His daughter, a maiden acquainted with magic |
Phaedra (FEE druh) | His younger daughter; her sister's rival |
Europa (yoo ROH puh) | His mother, a Phoenician princess abducted by Zeus |
Pasiphae (PAS ih fy) | His wife; mother of Ariadne, Phaedra, and the Minotaur |
Athenians
Theseus (THEE see uhs) | Prince of Athens; a hard-riding, easy-spoken young hero |
Aegeus (EE jee uhs) | King of Athens; supposed father of Theseus |
Aethra (ETH ruh) | Queen of Athens; seduced by Poseidon; mother of Theseus |
Daedalus (DEHD uh luhs) | Born in Athens but dwelling in Crete; most brilliant inventor of ancient times, or any time |
Icarus (IHK uh ruhs) | His son, also talented |
Gods
Zeus (ZOOS) | King of the Gods, Lord of the Sky, wielder of thunder and lightning; appearing here first as a bull and then in his own radiant form |
Poseidon (poh SY duhn) | God of the Sea, who sired Theseus during one high tide |
Aphrodite (af ruh DY tee) | Goddess of Love and Beauty, particularly to be feared when answering prayers |
Others
The Barley-hag | A prophetic crone |
Thera (THEE ruh) | A sea nymph who sings to Theseus of battles to come |
Contents
1
The Singing Bones
The meadow around the maze was a huge velvety sward tended by gardeners who knew they would be thrown to the Minotaur if they allowed one blade of grass to grow too long.
Two girls were chasing each other over the green, but swerved suddenly and ran toward the outer hedge of the Labyrinthâa deadly puzzle-garden on the island of Crete. The bellowing had stopped, which meant that the killing had started. There was a pulsing hush, then the screaming began. It rose to a shriek, a horrid, anguished din scarcely muffled by the hedgesâthen fell to moaning and the gurgling coughs from gut wounds.
“It's mean not to let us watch,” said Phaedra.
“Nothing to see,” said the taller girl, whose name was Ariadne. “They aren't Athenians or anything. Just people Papa's tired of.”
“I'd still like to.”
“It never lasts long, you know. Those prisoner types are too scared to fight back.”
“It's all right for you to talk,” said Phaedra. “You've seen it all, selfish cat.”
“Shut up or I'll slap you. I might anyway.”
Phaedra started to run away. “Wait,” said Ariadne.
“Why? So you can slap me?” said the younger sister.
“I won't if you're not pesky. Wait till the Hag comes. We'll get our fortunes told.”
“Stupid old hag,” said Phaedra. “She gets everything all wrong.”
“There's a new one, the Barley-hag. A real witch.”
“Do you believe that?”
“Well, she's something weird. They beat her with staves in the usual way and broke every bone in her body. And when they were through, she got up and walked away. It's never happened before. Now people are mad for her to tell their fortunes because she goes around singing, âIf you won't die, you don't lie.â¦' But she hasn't told anybody's yet.”
“How do you know she'll do yours?” asked Phaedra.
“She wants something. She was hanging around the castle this morning when I came out. âWait for me in the meadow,' she said. âI'll come to you when the killing's done.' So I'm waiting, but you don't have to.”
“Maybe she'll do me too.”
“Don't ask her until she's through with me,” said Ariadne.
“All right, all right ⦔
A squad of the King's Guard trotted past. Picked for their size, the biggest youths in the kingdom, they wore brass breastplates, brass shingreaves, and heavy brass helmets. They were basting in their own sweat under the hot sun. The guards despised such summer duty, but no one dared grumble. Minos had ordered full armor, and they preferred being broiled in brass to being served raw to the Minotaur.
The girls spotted the Hag sidling through the hedge that formed the outer wall of the Labyrinth. She limped toward them, a small, hunched figure in the vast meadow. She carried a sack over her shoulder. The girls waited, watching her slow, crippled walk. When she reached them, she dropped the sack on the ground with a crash. She blinked up at them. She was incredibly ugly, almost bald, and the clumps of hair that clung to her head looked like mildew. Her nose and chin almost met over the toothless hole that was her mouth. But her eyes were bright bubbles, like a squirrel's eyes. She curtsied and her rag skirt billowed in the breeze.
“Ah, my pretties, my dearies, are you waiting for the Hag, then?” She began to cackle, but it turned into coughing.
“You told me to wait,” said Ariadne. “So here I am.”
“And here
she
is,” cried the crone, pointing to Phaedra. “Here we are, all threeâthe royal girls and me! Hee, hee, hee! Someone carry my sack, please, and we'll go up the hill. If I carry it, I'll cough myself away.”
“Phew, it stinks!” said Phaedra. “What's in it?”
“Bones, old bones ⦠gathered from the killing ground. I need my tattlebones, don't I?”
Ariadne snatched the sack from her sister and raced away over the meadow. “See you on the hilltop,” she called. Phaedra stayed with the old woman and they followed the girl as she bounded up the slope.
From the crown of the hill they looked down on a burning stretch of sea. “Hang the bones,” said the Hag. “Do it properlyâskull on top, ribs just so, armbones hanging, legs below ⦠and the skeleton will dance to a skeletune by the yellow light of a hangman's moon ⦔
The girls emptied the sack and hung the bones from the branch of a wild olive tree. The skeleton hung in the red light of the falling sun. Phaedra started to say something, but the Hag put her fingers to her lips, and the girl fell silent. Ariadne had not uttered a word since climbing the hill. The Hag raised her arm and called out:
West wind, west wind,
howl and moan.
West wind, west wind,
sing through bone.
West wind, west wind,
when you blow,
tell us what
we need to know.
Light ruffled the water as a wind arose. The bones swayed, rattled, and did a dry jig. Ariadne closed her eyes. She couldn't bear to look at the dancing bones. She felt herself seized by a nameless fury and wanted to kill them both, sister and hag. She began to stalk over the grass toward them, then froze. For the wind was blowing through the skull, making it sing:
Tigers are wild,
dogs are tame.
Listen, dear child,
to your husband's name.
Theseus, Theseus.
A prince for a princess,
Theseus is his name.
Roses are red,
wounds are too.
Him you shall wed,
I tell you true.
Ariadne stared out to sea. She felt her face stiffen as if it were carved of bone, as hard and salty as the skull dangling from the tree. Phaedra sat mesmerized on the grass. She reached up and tugged at the Hag's skirt.
“Do me,” she whispered.
The Hag bent to her, put her withered lips to the girl's shell-pink ear, and whispered, “Shall I tell you your husband's name?”
“Yes, yes!”
“Hush.⦠She mustn't hear ⦠or she'll kill you,” said the Hag.
“Why?”
“Because the name you shall hear is the name you have heard.”
“What do you mean?” said Phaedra.
“The lad you shall marry is named Theseus.”
“Two with the same name?”
“One
with the same name ⦠who shall marry a pair of sisters, the eldest first. Farewell now.”
The Hag vanished.
2
Son of the Sea God
Young Theseus had two fathersâan official one named Aegeus who was King of Athensâand a real father, whom he had never met and whom his mother had met only once. He was Poseidon, Lord of the Sea, a huge, brawling, piratical god, whose favorite sport was riding a tidal wave in to some seaside village where a wedding was being held. Green-bearded and roaring with laughter, he would rise from the swirling waters to snatch the bride from the arms of her half-drowned groom. But he would always return her the next morning; he liked wet brides, but didn't want them to dry into wives. As for his children, he was very content to let someone else care for them.
Poseidon had raided the wedding party of the Fisher King, Aegeus, and borrowed his bride. She gave birth to a child named Theseus. For the son of a god, he was unusually small, but he was very quick and graceful, and he swam like an otter before he could walk. His eyes, too, told of the sea. They were not quite green, not quite blue, and only sometimes gray, changing with his mood as the water changes when the wind blows.