| |
The Middle Bronze Age
Somewhere in the Aegean, between the Greek shoreline and the island of Crete
The morning’s brisk wind had stilled and the square sail on the tiny fishing skiff hung slack from the mast. A heavy layer of fog obscured the sun and any view of the horizon. The Aegean, which had been a brilliant blue when they left shore, had becalmed to a dark, glassy mirror that threatened to strand them at sea.
Larisa and Catullus floated on the current. To be adrift on the ocean yet see nothing beyond the mist was the loneliest feeling imaginable. How far had they traveled? She could not guess. How much farther had they to go? She did not care. Huddled at the front of the small craft, she glared at her captor as he attempted to row. Unfit for such demanding labor, Catullus dripped with sweat and groaned with every heaving tug of the oars. Any real progress from his exertions seemed unlikely. They could perish at sea and she would be fine with that outcome.
“Don’t give me the evil eye, girl.” Catullus spat over the railing. “It won’t work.”
Disgusting. She glanced away. It was all she could do to not retch every time she looked at his greasy face. Wily old Catullus was the village’s newly self-elected chief. He was stout and soft-limbed, and the journey was taking an obvious toll on his stamina. But Larisa couldn’t help him row even if she were so inclined. He’d bound her wrists tightly and tethered her to the boat to prevent her from leaping overboard and drowning herself.
The edges of the oars sank and were slow to reappear. The tiresome chore had purpled Catullus’s face and left the front of his tunic drenched. How long could he endure such an exhausting task? Closing his eyes, he grimaced in agony as the oars seemed to cling to the surface of the water, resisting his efforts. “By all the gods, I swear this boat is made of stone!”
Taking advantage of his distraction, she leaned over the side to dangle her bound wrists in the soothing water. Her long brown ringlets fell around her face like a veil. As she leaned farther, her movement caused the boat to dip.
His eyes flew open in alarm. “What are you doing?” He released the oars and yanked Larisa upright. “No tricks. I’ll not be cheated of my tribute to King Minos.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Do you really believe that showing up uninvited on the palace steps with an unsolicited sacrifice to the Minotaur is going to make you a great favorite with King Minos? The king only asks for sacrifices every seven years. This act only makes you look desperate.”
Catullus dismissed her comment with a rude snort. “There is a higher purpose to my plan, which I don’t expect you to understand. My time would be better spent in service to King Minos. I’m tired of living in a dusty little village, separated from the powerful world I should be part of.”
“You think only of yourself and you’re a traitor to your own village. What would King Minos want with your services?”
He held the damp tunic away from his chest and blew a cooling breath down his collar. “Battle with the wretched Aetolians reduced our village to a pathetic rabble of witless women, children, and frail old men.” He wet his thick lips with his tongue. “We can’t survive another surprise attack. Given how brutally our neighbors have treated us, I’m strongly inclined to seek the favor and protection of King Minos. I’m certain he’ll welcome the added wealth from our realm—which I can now provide, thanks to the rich orchards and fields you forfeit. My generous gift of land and a virgin sacrifice for the Minotaur will no doubt earn me an honored residence within the palace. I’m looking forward to my new life, and I’m certain King Minos will be more appreciative of my refined qualities than the fools in our village.”
“What refined qualities? You truly think mighty King Minos is in need of another schemer to slobber at his feet? If he is, he’ll be delighted to meet you.”
“How dare you! I am your elder and chief.” Catullus flushed with rage. “You speak too freely and say too much—both poor qualities in a woman. I see now that I was far too lenient. I should have gagged you as well.”
She stomped her feet against the floor of the skiff in the vain hope she might kick a hole in the aging craft and sink it. “You stole my land! It’s not yours to give. I saw you cheat at lots and so did others. I was deliberately given the shortest straw.” A few good souls in the village had noticed the cheating too but were too intimidated by Catullus’s threats to say anything.
Thirst wore at her composure. Unspent emotion welled to the surface. Larisa looked away before tears streaked down her cheek. She’d already been tricked, robbed, and sentenced to death. The last thing she wanted to do was give Catullus the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
It grew darker. An oppressive fog hovered over the surface of the sea, turning the gray daytime sky to dusk. “You don’t even know where we’re going, do you? You’re just rowing with the current. How do you even know the tiny island we glimpsed on the horizon this morning was King Minos’s island? My father said Minoa was a two-day journey from our shore and that there were countless islands in the sea.”
“Don’t speak of your father!” Catullus snapped.
“Why? Could it be you dread to hear the truth? That my father, Chief of Kreios, was a braver man and better leader to our tribe than you’ll ever be?” Larisa stealthily slid her foot across the floorboards of the boat, hoping to catch her toe on an amphora of water and steal a sip before Catullus snatched it away, as he’d done all day. She licked her parched lips in frustration as she tried several times to reach the clay jar but failed.
Catullus protectively slid the amphora beyond Larisa’s reach. “What little water we have is reserved for me. I’m doing all the hard work.”
“Wouldn’t it have been easier to pay those fishermen we met this morning to row us to the island instead of stealing their boat?”
“Why pay a pair of greedy fishermen when I can do it myself?” Perspiration trickled down Catullus’s round neck. “Besides, I couldn’t allow you to tell your sad story to the fishermen and attempt to recruit their help.” He tapped a finger to his temple. “As you can see, I’ve thought of everything. It’s true that I am unaccustomed to the sea, but it is the slight price I pay for being a warrior of the mountains.”
“You’re no warrior!” A broken laugh burst free of her. “Your own son foolishly blurted out that you turned and fled from battle while the real warriors of our tribe stayed to fight and lost their lives. Ares said you hid inside a hollow log while the battle raged past. It was your cowardice that saved your life during the last devastating conflict with the Aetolians, not your swordsmanship. The sole reason anyone in our village would consider you chief is because you’re the last mature man left alive. It’s certainly not your valor that recommends you. My father and my betrothed, Alecto, died with honor. You have none.”
His jaw tensed as he hissed in disgust, “Shut your mouth, woman, before more snakelike lies slither out!”
“They’re not lies. It’s the truth!”
Catullus stopped rowing just long enough to focus a look of loathing on Larisa. “It didn’t have to be this way. I want you to know it was your vicious tongue that condemned you to the labyrinth. Think on that as the creature roars from behind, panting its hot breath, and snaps your limbs like bits of tinder caught in its teeth. If not for your steady stream of poisonous words, I might not have been forced to dispose of you. Had you respected my new station in life instead of railed against it, we might have peacefully lived together.”
How dare he propose such a sickening bargain? It would never happen. The labyrinth held less terror than the thought of Catullus’s clumsy embrace. “I’d rather die than share your bed.”
“You’ll get your wish. Your death is coming soon enough, you can be certain of that.” With his black gaze beady, Catullus dipped the oars back into the water and heaved against the resistant sea. “Before I hand you over to the Minotaur, maybe I’ll help myself to what Alecto never had the chance to claim on his wedding night.”
“Ugh.” A shudder of revulsion rippled up her spine. “Wouldn’t that ruin my value as a virgin sacrifice?”
“Would a grunting, bull-headed beast even know the difference as it rips its jagged teeth into your flesh?” Catullus paused for effect. “I think not.”
“A grunting beast? Are you referring to yourself? I already rejected you, remember?”
“Idiot.” He showed his yellowed teeth in an ugly smirk.
The boat scraped against a partially submerged rock. Larisa jumped. “What was that? We are in open water.”
Catullus appeared wary.
The fog evaporated. They drifted into a narrow inlet, coming into view of a gravel beach surrounded by towering sea cliffs. The surf lifted the skiff and, riding a single rough wave, the boat ran aground, ending their journey with a clattering jolt. The ocean current, if not Catullus’s lackluster rowing, had carried them to an island.
She looked up. On the cliff top overlooking the sea, a dazzling palace with painted columns and frescoed walls crowned the cliffs in majestic silence. The elegant palace was ablaze with colors that shimmered in vibrant shades of earthy red, golden ochre, turquoise, and green, and ornate patterns unlike anything she’d ever seen. “It’s so beautiful.” She stared in awe, noticing there were no living things, not a servant or even a seabird in sight. “And so lonely.”
“Where is everyone?” Catullus grumbled. “Do they not have an envoy to greet visiting dignitaries from the mainland?”
“You’re not a dignitary.” Larisa sniffed. “Perhaps they don’t welcome uninvited guests, and at this very moment have a row of hidden archers poised on those cliffs with their razor-tipped arrows aimed at your heart.”
Catullus gasped in horror and dropped to the floor of the boat to cower.
Larisa laughed at Catullus’s antics as he curled into a ball. “I’m sorry there’s no hollow log on this beach for you to hide inside.”
“You weren’t there.” Catullus swatted his hand at the air as if batting away troublesome memories. “You have no idea. The Aetolians are bloodthirsty brutes.”
“Yet my father and my dear Alecto and other brave men stood their ground and fought. That’s the only reason Kreios didn’t fall to the Aetolians. Ares told me he watched the men charge the enemy with swords slashing before he too ran off to search for you.”
The eerie lowing of a bull echoed between the rocks. The tiny hairs on the back of Larisa’s neck bristled as she scanned the cliff tops. “What was that?” A towering figure with the head of a bull appeared at the crest of the cliff, dressed in a flowing black robe; the horned figure remained still and seemed to be studying them.
Catullus glanced upward with bulging eyes. “The Minotaur?” His bottom lip quivered in terror as he scooted toward the back of the boat. “Is it possible the Minoans are doltish enough to allow such a vicious creature to roam freely?”
The horned figure lifted a wing-like sleeve high into the air and appeared to beckon them toward a staircase carved into the side of the cliff.
“It’s not the Minotaur, you fool.” Larisa thrust her wrists forward to be untied. “It’s some sort of priest wearing a mask. He wants us to climb the stairs.”
Catullus froze. “Perhaps this was a mistake. Maybe I should leave....” He reached for the oars and rowed backward, but the paddles merely scraped beach pebbles and the boat didn’t budge.
The priest addressed them from the cliff top in a booming voice. “Is the young woman a bride for the labyrinth?”
“Yes!” Catullus’s voice cracked, and his head bobbed in a ridiculous manner. He turned toward Larisa and mumbled, “Bride? A sacrificial ritual isn’t a wedding. What an odd way to phrase something so brutal. These Minoans are very strange people. I’m not sure I want to meet them.”
The priest pulled a golden dagger from its sheath and pointed the blade toward Catullus. “Bring her to the palace. The master shall judge you both.”
“Yes, my lord.” Catullus’s face collapsed with fear and he immediately unknotted the rope that tethered Larisa to the boat. “By all that’s dark in Hades, I don’t want to go up there! This place is so foreboding. I have a sickening feeling in the pit of my gut. This island is doomed. I want to leave—now.”
What a coward. “This was your idea. You brought me here to die. What did you expect?”
Catullus spoke through tensed lips. “I was hoping for something less intimidating, more along the lines of a festive royal court with feasting and dancing girls.”
Larisa rolled her eyes. “This is exactly what I was expecting.”
“Don’t delay.” The priest’s deep voice rang between the cliffs. “The master knows you’re here. Asterion waits.” He turned and walked away.
Catullus trembled as he stepped out of the shallow boat and offered Larisa his hand.
Larisa lifted her bound wrists expectantly. “Untie my wrists too.”
Catullus stared at the leather thong around Larisa’s wrists and shook his head. “I don’t dare. If you run away again, like you did in the village, I’m certain these people will kill me.”
“What you’ve done to me is wrong. I’m proud I gave you a hard chase. It’s not my fault you can’t run uphill.” She ignored Catullus’s offered hand and rose from the boat unassisted. “I’m thirsty. May I have water before I climb the staircase?”
“Now?” Catullus frowned. “Why bother? Your life will be over soon.” He unstopped the clay amphora, held it to his lips, and tipped his head back to swallow the last trickle.
From beneath their feet, a low vibration rose that echoed between the cliffs. A bull’s bellowing roar shook the earth from within the island and made the tiniest pebbles on the beach shiver.
Catullus dropped the empty jar to the ground, shattering it. “What was that? It sounded like it came from inside the island.”
“That sounds like doom to me.” Larisa’s lips curled into a slight smile. “The great difference between you and me is I’m not afraid to die. When I cross the River Styx, I’ll see my mother, father, and Alecto again. Who will you meet in Hades, other wretched souls? The many you’ve cheated at the market or betrayed? I’m certain you can expect to be seated beside the most miserable men in Hades’s cowards’ corner.”
“Shut your mouth and get moving.” Catullus took hold of the rope tether, still tied to Larisa’s bound wrists, and used it as a leash to drag her toward a twisting flight of steps carved into the cliffside.
“Slow down.” Larisa tugged against the tether as her sandaled feet crunched across the shifting rocks, but Catullus yanked her forward as if leading a stubborn mule. With her wrists tied in front of her, maintaining her balance with each uncertain stride became difficult. The hem of her linen tunic swept the mossy stones, soon becoming as damp and green as the many tidal puddles on the beach.
“Hurry,” Catullus goaded. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Ah, no longer keen on taking up residence in the royal palace?” She stumbled forward, stubbing her toe. “What changed your mind? Was it the island’s gloomy atmosphere? You should give it a chance,” she heckled. “Perhaps you’ll enjoy sharing sleeping quarters with that bull-masked priest and his razor-sharp dagger. Sweet dreams.”
Catullus gave the tether a swift yank. “I’m done talking to you.”
Larisa scanned the shallow tide pools as she walked. At the edge of one pool was a golden rock the perfect shape of a star. She stopped abruptly and knelt beside the pool, forcing Catullus to stop as well. She leaned down to touch the odd stone with the tip of her finger, but the moment she came into contact with it, the star curled away from her and slowly crept toward the center of the pool.
She gasped in surprise. “That rock is a live animal! It’s not what I thought it was at all.”
“Who cares.” Catullus hauled Larisa to her feet and pushed her toward the stairs that zigzagged up the cliff.
The steps were narrow and the climb perilous. Larisa looked only at her feet, refusing to glance at the jagged rocks below, but at last they reached the top of the cliff, where the full splendor of the palace was revealed. The structure was tremendous, far larger than the entire village of Kreios, with columns as tall and thick as giant trees and rooms stacked upon rooms with staircases leading up and out. The colorful patterns glimpsed from the beach were actually beautifully depicted scenes of men and women dancing, fantastical sea creatures with large round eyes—and everywhere Larisa looked, powerful outlines of charging bulls. All the outer walls were covered in painted images of bulls with sweeping horns, leaping over the stars.
The palace was visually stunning but oppressively silent. There were no attendants, no spiraling smoke from a cook fire, not even a cat or dog resting in the shade. There was not a soul anywhere. “Where do you think the priest went?” Larisa’s whispered words echoed ominously against the palace’s smooth walls.
“I don’t know, but I’m glad he’s no longer around.” Catullus approached a grand temple with his shoulders hunched forward as if he expected to be struck from behind. “Something about him was not right. He gave me the shivers.”
They climbed glittering white marble steps, which led to a hall of carved red columns that looked like a forest of delicately painted trees.
The interior of the hall was spacious and airy. Thousands of tiny oil lamps flickered in niches surrounding a large shrine at the front of the hall, ornamented with a massive bull’s head carved from glossy, blue-black obsidian. The bull had compassionate eyes and a golden star in the center of its forehead. Its ivory horns were trimmed with gold and lapis lazuli in the richest shades of blue, and reached so wide they brushed each side of the hall.
“Why have you come to the Palace of Asterion?” A deep male voice echoed around them, seeming to emanate from all directions at once.
“Is this not the palace of King Minos?” Catullus squeaked.
“No!” the voice thundered. “This is not a palace of the living. For years, no one has come to this island—and that is how it should be.”
Larisa turned, looking all around her, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mysterious speaker.
“The Palace of Asterion is a dangerous place.” The disembodied voice rose higher. “We moved our people away years ago. No one resides here any longer, except for the guardian priests who have pledged to perish with the island. How did you find the island through the enchanted fog?”
Larisa dared to speak. “Our boat found the island.”
The voice softened. “Woman, what is your name?”
“Larisa of Kreios.”
The voice dropped in volume and spoke calmly. “Larisa, you are to be offered as a sacrificial bride?”
Should she answer? “Yes. But I’m here against my will.” She gave Catullus the evil eye.
The obsidian eyes of the great bull twinkled as if they were alive. “Do you have a lover or any living family?”
“No,” she answered quietly, then waited through an uncomfortably long silence. Would it have been better to not answer? The voice had been too compelling to ignore. She held her breath until her pulse throbbed in her temples.
“I will accept this woman.” The voice echoed against the ceiling. “Bring Larisa to the labyrinth.”
The masked priest approached from behind a shadowy column and claimed the tether from Catullus. No hands were visible; only voluminous fabric reached forward.
Larisa stared into the priest’s face, trying to catch a glimpse of eyes behind the mask, and was startled to see there were none. There appeared to be no human beneath the mask and robe, only a vaporous blackness that somehow managed to hold the costume aloft. The uncanny sight chilled her blood.
“What about me?” Catullus cautiously approached the shrine. “I’ve suffered much hardship to deliver a fine sacrifice to the labyrinth. Did I mention she’s the daughter of a chief, and a virgin? Is there a reward for my efforts?”
“Yes,” the voice hissed. “You shall be returned to your skiff, which has been restocked with enough food and water to see you back to shore. Should you make any attempt to return to the island, a one-eyed, eight-limbed sea monster will snatch you from the boat and drag you to the coldest, darkest depths of the sea. Do you understand?”
Catullus blanched. “I receive nothing for my troubles?”
The voice remained silent.
The priest’s flowing sleeve silently pointed toward the exit. Catullus’s cheeks flushed pink with humiliation as he turned and quickly strode from the palace. “He gets the virgin and I get nothing! This is so unfair! So unjust! Why did I bother?” His disgruntled muttering rang through the halls until it faded.
The priest gave Larisa’s tether a gentle tug to urge her forward.
Larisa looked carefully for evidence of hands or feet, but again saw none as he silently led her through a maze of columns and polished hallways. They exited the palace into a fragrant garden courtyard filled with the most varied herbs and exotic fruit trees she had ever seen. A colorful mosaic pathway twisted through the elegant gardens, past pear trees and banks of star-shaped flowers.
The path ended abruptly at a stark field of gray pumice that stood naked beneath a slate sky. No living thing grew beyond the path. The rocky field’s only distinguishing feature was a large mound topped with a stone statue twice the height of a man, which appeared to be a crescent moon lying on its back. She peered closely at the crescent and realized she was looking at a weathered carving of horns. A row of blazing torches led to the statue, sending slender swirls of black smoke curling into the humid air.
The priest stepped onto the cinder field and walked toward the statue, and Larisa was forced to follow, each footstep on the shifting rocks precarious. She watched in awe as the priest strode easily ahead without displacing a single stone. The row of torches led to a rocky alcove that contained a doorway sealed with a stone slab bearing the carved image of a bull. The priest placed his sleeve against the bull’s forehead and pressed. It pivoted open with a nerve-grating crunch, and a rush of cool air escaped through the dark doorway.
Her skin pebbled. Now what? Larisa glanced past the priest’s shoulder to the tomblike sanctum beyond. Was she supposed to walk inside and wait to be slaughtered? Why wasn’t she fighting for her life? She had seen sheep fight more valiantly for their lives than she was capable of in that moment. Exhaustion had worn her down. Yes, she could struggle and prolong her agony, but what was the point?
The priest picked up a torch with an unseen hand and motioned for Larisa to walk through the doorway. The torch barely lit the mouth of what appeared to be a vast subterranean cavern.
This was it, the entrance to the dreaded labyrinth. Her gut twisted. The worst thing imaginable was mere footsteps away. Adding to the horror of being eaten alive by an unnatural thing was that it would all take place in utter darkness. She would not see her attacker.
A loud rumble, like the roar of a titanic beast, shook the earth. Her knees went to jelly as a jolt of primal fear unlike anything she had ever imagined possible overwhelmed her. “Draw your dagger and kill me now!” she pleaded with the priest. “Show mercy before you throw me to the creature.”
The priest turned his head and spoke in a voice so faint it sounded as if he were whispering through a hollow reed. “It is you who must show mercy to Asterion. For years this island sat in isolation, deliberately hidden beyond view and reach of all, and yet you found it. Your flesh and blood shall make the Star Bull whole. Through your sacrifice, that which has been spirit can now become flesh. Our last Asterion can cross the island portal before it is destroyed. This is a great day.”
A great day? She was too scared to comprehend much of anything the priest had said and wanted to weep at the stupidity of such a statement. “Please, let me—”
A roar louder than the most violent thunderstorm erupted from deep within the earth, shook the rocks, and left her heart pounding.
“Asterion wants you.” Holding the torch aloft, the priest led her past the doorway and onto the steps of the cave. “Follow.”
She stepped into the dimly lit entrance, using timid taps of her foot to carefully guide herself down the steeply sloping path. She’d taken only a few steps when the priest suddenly turned back and sealed the doorway behind them. The slab pivoted shut with a screech of stone on stone, trapping them inside and denying all light.
“There’s no going back.” The priest’s wispy voice had become annoying. “Stay close.”
Except for a ring of light surrounding the torch, the darkness beyond was unfathomable. As they descended into the depths of the cavern, the air became cooler and dank. The rich scent of earth reminded her of the day she’d dug twin graves for her father and Alecto and wept endless tears onto the freshly turned soil. Smoke from the torch stung her eyes. Her shoulder brushed against a clump of clingy roots, and she recoiled in horror from the brushy, hairlike texture.
After a long descent, they reached a level area. The sound of dripping water echoed from within a cavern that seemed immense. The torch illuminated a tall, sturdy-looking stone column set in the center of the floor. The priest steered her toward it. Atop the column was the carved head of a bull with a heavy bronze ring through the base of its nose.
The priest set the torch near the column. His sleeves enveloped Larisa. “Rise.”
With no effort on her part, as if by magic, her wrists rose above her head. The priest deftly secured her bound wrists to the bronze ring as she trembled in shock. So she was to be left bound and helpless in the dark for the creature to devour with ease? A sob of anguish broke free.
The masked figure loomed closer. “During Asterion’s first hours in a physical body, he may have little self-control. You must be secured to the column to prevent you from fleeing into the labyrinth and being lost or harmed.”
Why would they care about her being harmed if the creature was going to rip her to shreds? It made no sense.
The priest drew the golden dagger from his robe. Its sharp edge glinted in the torchlight.
Her eyes teared. Here it comes, the first bitter taste of death. Now that she had conveniently delivered herself into the realm of the beast, he meant to mortally wound her and prevent her flight.
He pressed the tip of the blade to Larisa’s clenched fist. With careful pressure, he punctured the skin.
Larisa yelped, expecting a wave of pain to follow, but only a tiny trickle of blood appeared. She glanced up, biting her lip. What was this? The small cut barely registered as pain, but the priest’s ominous motions left her breathless with terror.
The priest caught a few drops of blood on the tip of the blade and lifted it toward the massive head at the top of the column. Straining her neck, Larisa looked up and watched as the priest scraped the blade against the stone head and smeared traces of her blood on the bull’s forehead.
The moment the blood made contact with the stone, the ground shook. Dust shifted from the ceiling, filling the air with noxious particles that smelled gravelike. A choking sob caught in her throat. Adding to her terror, a loud booming reverberated through the stones as if the walls were collapsing. From a distance, the thundering snort of a bull echoed from within the labyrinth. A heartbeat later, the click of heavy hooves pounded the floor.
She screamed. “Let me go! I want to live!”
“It is done.” The priest stepped away from Larisa. “Asterion has been summoned into flesh.”
“No!” As she watched, breathless, the priest dissolved in front of her eyes, becoming so transparent the glowing torch shone clearly through his robe. His image faded until he disappeared into vaporous black smoke, and a second later even that vanished.
With limbs shaking, Larisa was left to face the beast alone.