A blood curdling roar filled the air as the Athenians bore down on the rebels in a final charge. Armour thudded against armour, horses pawed the air in panic, and in the centre of it all was young King Theseus, his short stubby sword stained deep red. But suddenly, over towards the forest he saw a figure grab a loose horse and furtively slip away from the fighting. It was someone he knew all too well – his treacherous uncle Laius, sneaking away from the battle once again. But this time, he wasn’t going to get away with it.
With one bound Theseus had mounted his white stallion, hacked his way through the seething crowd and set off in hot pursuit. A slow smile spread across his face – soon his final victory would be complete. He’d been King for two years now and Athens was so strong that no outsider dared attack it. Once Laius’ lackies had been defeated nothing could stand in the way of Athens’ greatness.
Theseus rode straight into the forest, his eyes flashing from side to side in search of his foe. He saw nothing, but heard a sound, so plunged on deeper and deeper into the undergrowth, like a dog following a fox’s scent. The sky grew darker above him, the air grew cold and wet, but still he pushed on after his evil uncle. Then suddenly, the scent went cold – and Theseus looked up to realise he was completely lost. Lost in the deepest, darkest corner of the forest.
He moved on aimlessly, hour after hour, rained on and exhausted, until he felt so weary he could barely keep his eyes open. But then at last, when he was losing hope of ever finding a way out, he saw a faint glimmer of light. There ahead of him was an inn. A pretty gloomy old inn, but nevertheless somewhere he could rest until morning.
A door creaked slowly open and there stood a smiling sleek-faced man with skin the colour of a white rat.
‘Do you have a spare bed?’ asked the weary Theseus.
‘Do I have a spare bed?’ echoed the innkeeper, his high pitched voice quivering with excitement. ‘I have the perfect bed for you, my dear.’
‘Thanks,’ replied Theseus gratefully. ‘I’m dead tired.‘
‘Yes, I’m sure you are,’ said the innkeeper and cackled wildly at some unexplained joke as he showed the young King to his room.
He’s mad, thought Theseus, but what do I care?
He slumped onto the bed and blew out the light. The room was in total darkness.
Half an hour later the door slowly opened again. There stood the innkeeper, a candle in his shaky hand. Another man stood behind him. Flickering candle light played across his face – it was uncle Laius.
‘Look at his legs, my Lord. They’re too long,’ hissed the innkeeper, pointing at Theseus’ boots sticking out the end of the bed.
‘I’m sure you can remedy that,’ came the soft reply.
The innkeeper giggled insanely and drew out a meat cleaver.
‘Dead tired, eh?’ he whispered. Then, ‘Tired and Dead, more likely!’ he screamed, raised the cleaver in the air and struck.
Flum! Flum! The blade cut through Theseus’ boots like butter.
Laius let out a tiny screech of joy, then froze as he felt the point of a knife pressing against his back. He turned and saw Theseus with a pleasant smile on his face. He’d been standing behind the door. The boots in the bed belonged to him all right, but they were as empty as a pair of coconuts.
‘If I’d been younger,’ Theseus said, ‘I’d have killed you straight away. Unfortunately I can no longer afford to give myself that pleasure. Instead I’m going to put you on trial. When the Athenians hear my story, and realise how foul and depraved you and your followers are, they’ll exile you for ever,’ and he trussed the two wretches up like chickens, flung them over his horse, and slowly rode back to Athens.
But when he reached the city it was in uproar. Shopkeepers were nailing up their windows, carts were being rolled over and turned into make-shift barricades, half mad people were rushing in all directions, clutching bundles of possessions. Everywhere there were dogs barking, cats miaowing and pigs oinking their tails off; all their masters had scarpered in the mad rush.
A terrified butcher was hurtling down the road wearing a necklace of sausages and carrying a cage full of chickens and a cash register. Theseus leant out of his saddle and grabbed him by a giblet.
‘What’s the matter?’
‘It’s the pirates, my Lord,’ came the terrified reply. ‘They’ve landed at Marathon and they’re coming this way!’
Theseus drew a deep breath. Being King wasn’t exactly restful.
Then he galloped to the Palace, rode up the Palace steps (only he was allowed to do that), and let out an almighty yell: ‘HARRROOOO!!!’
It was a secret sign: within ten seconds, a dozen of his best men sat mounted before him at attention on a dozen of his best horses.
‘Trouble,’ said Theseus. And they set off to face it.
An hour later they arrived breathless at the flat grassy plain of Marathon. In front of them, armed to their rotting teeth and grinning like mad monkeys were fifty mean pirates – and they hadn’t come to picnic. The two small armies faced each other. Most of the Athenians wore golden belts, most of the pirates had one eye. Most of the Athenians were clean shaven, most of the pirates had beards so rough you could have used them for scrubbing really dirty frying pans. There was silence. You could have heard a pin drop. In fact one did drop out of the nose of one of the pirates, and everyone heard it.
Then a figure stepped out of the pirate ranks. He was a huge black man, with a mass of hair which dangled down the side of his body in a plait, a ruby earring, gold teeth and a scar which ran from the corner of his grinning mouth right up to where his ear lobe would have been if it hadn’t been chopped off in a fight. But most of all, he was tall: he looked like he’d been stretched and stayed that way.
‘I’ve heard tell of an Athenian King named Theseus,’ he drawled, and his voice rumbled like thunder across the water. ‘I’ve heard he’s brave and fearless and that he killed the Cretan monster. Which one is he?’
Theseus stepped forward and gave a tiny nod.
‘Then I, Pirithous, King of the Pirates, challenge you to single combat.’
Theseus gave another little nod – this time accompanied by a tiny smile. To be honest, this sort of thing was rather his cup of tea. He’d never cared for the quiet life.
In an instant, the two armies had formed a circle round Theseus and the giant Pirate King. The two heroes stood motionless, their hands poised just above their sword hilts. Deeply they gazed into each others’ eyes, each one knowing that if he lost concentration even for a second, it would mean instant death and his head rolling around on the ground like a big potato.
Hour upon hour went by. Neither man so much as twitched. The two armies were tense and motionless.
Then, towards evening, a lark rose out of the grass, higher and higher it flew, singing its little heart out; for one fateful instant Pirithous’ eyes flickered and … SHONK! Theseus struck.
In a blur and a spin, Pirithous’ sword flew into the air —
In a sudden jolt his legs were kicked from underneath him –
In a flash of a fist his nose was punched into his head —
And there stood Theseus, his sword above his head, ready to deliver the fatal blow.
Pirithous lay on the grass smiling ruefully.
‘I’ve lost,’ he said. ‘Still, that bird was singing a real pretty song. Look – the soldiers must be getting a bit peckish. Take my life now, will you, so they can go get something to eat.’
Theseus looked him up and down, and just couldn’t help smiling. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I won’t take your life. I’ll take your friendship, instead. Here, let me give you a hand.’ And reaching down, he pulled Pirithous to his feet.
Everyone cheered and Pirithous and Theseus swore eternal friendship, there on the Plain of Marathon. The Pirates and the Athenians cuddled each other and swapped belts and eye-patches, and soon they were all riding back to Athens surrounded by happy townspeople. Peanut-sellers and patch-salesmen were out in force and the terrified butcher made a fortune out of grilled sausages.
Next morning Laius and the mad innkeeper were put on trial and were banished for life to an uninhabited island – with only each other’s foul presence for company. At last Athens was completely safe. There were no wars, no riots, no street fighting – it was a place where everyone wanted to be. Theseus’ old friend and teacher Hercules came to stay (when he wasn’t too busy slaughtering man-eating donkeys or biting the heads off seven-headed monsters), and his other old teacher Daedalus was a permanent guest, forever designing new wonders for the city.
There was no Minotaur, no rebellion, no fear – which meant …
Theseus was bored! The city was full of artists – but one statue looked pretty much like the next to him; and it was full of actors – but he always fell asleep during their plays. What Theseus wanted was a good old punch-up – just like in the old days.
Then one day he caught Pirithous gazing moodily out of the window staring at the sea.
‘What’s up?’ he asked.
‘I’m in love,’ came the reply.
Theseus started to laugh. He roared, he guffawed, he rolled around on the floor hooting with derision.
‘In love! You!’ he said finally wiping the tears from his eyes. ‘You great soft wimp! Who is she?’
‘I’ve only seen her once,’ replied his moonstruck friend. ‘Her name’s Persephone and she’s the Queen of the Underworld. Do you think she’d come away with me if I asked her?’
‘Bound to,’ said Theseus. ‘She’d be crazy not to. You’re a really regular guy.’
Then there was a long pause as they both stared at the grey ocean. Finally Theseus spoke again. And now his eyes were shining with excitement.
‘I know,’ he said. ‘Let’s go get her. We’ll take your pirate ship and sail on until we actually reach the entrance to the Underworld.’ This was the adventure he’d been waiting for – the greatest adventure of them all. The trip to the very mouth of Hell.
No one ever said it would be easy. Through tempests they sailed, through whirlwinds, through seas so clotted with seaweed that the oars snapped like match sticks when the sailors leant on them. Then finally, just when they thought they were clear, a massive mauve sea monster rose from the ocean depths and bit the boat in two. Water poured into its severed halves and the ship and its crew sank slowly to a watery grave.
Only Pirithous and Theseus had the brains to climb to the top of the mast and vault onto the creature’s back. It shook itself, it twisted, it dived, it jumped and it roared with irritation as it tried to shake them off; but they clung to its slippery stinking scales for dear life.
Finally, exhausted, the monster heaved itself up onto a desolate beach, collapsed, and fell fast asleep. And the two exhausted sailors fell asleep too in the folds of its skin.
Next morning they awoke to the deafening sound of the creature snoring. They slipped off its back, patted it on the nose and watched as it dozily crawled down to the water’s edge and swam off.
It was only now that they bothered to turn and see where they were. It certainly wasn’t home. In fact, it was more like … Hell.
It was bleak. Very bleak. There was no life, no vegetation, and certainly no fast-food: just choking grey smoke, black cliffs, dribbles of molten lava, and high above them a dark, threatening volcano puffing poisonous green smoke out of its twin craters.
‘It’s no holiday camp, is it?’ murmured Theseus gloomily, but Pirithous was smiling.
‘Who’d have thought it?’ he said. ‘Who ever would have thought it? This is the place we’ve been looking for. All we have to do is find a way to get inside that volcano and we’ll be at the entrance to the Underworld!’
And so, all alone, the two heroes set off to raid the Underworld. For days they picked their way across the scorching landscape, searching for a cave which would lead them to the Kingdom of Persephone. Then at last Theseus said, ‘OW!!’ and their problems were solved. He had stubbed his toe on a tiny crack in the smooth side of the mountain. Theseus slipped his fingers in, and then clenched his fist. The crack became a fissure. Then they both forced their arms in, and heaved, so the fissure became a hole: then they pushed and they shoved and they squeezed in their whole bodies, and then wriggled until…
Suddenly, phwoosh!!!!, they were inside the volcano…
As the hole closed slowly behind them, they could see they were standing in a cave the size of a cathedral. There were silver stalagmites going upwards, golden stalactites coming downwards, and the walls and ceiling were encrusted with diamonds. At the far end was a dark tunnel. When they reached it they drew their swords and stepped firmly into the darkness. One step, two steps, three steps forward and then VOOOOM!! the ground disappeared from under them and their legs flayed about in the empty air as they went
Down.
Down.
Down.
Down.
tumbling head over heels until WHACK! they landed in a heap on a black shining floor.
Then they heard a laugh – a soft purring laugh that was so strange it made their stomachs feel funny – like they’d just swallowed something furry. Bruised and puzzled they looked up.
Ahead of them, on a throne of glistening black coal sat the woman they had been searching for – Queen Persephone. She was tall, she was beautiful, and she was stroking two giant moles which lay snuggled in her lap.
‘Sorry to burst in on you like this,’ said Pirithous cheerfully, ‘but I love you and want you to come away with me.’
One of the moles started mewing. ‘And what if I don’t wish to come, big boy?’ replied Persephone.
‘Then we’ll carry you off with us,’ said Theseus, chuckling.
‘Some people never learn,’ murmured Persephone to her big brown pets.
Then she snapped her fingers. Out of nowhere an enormous sofa appeared. It was most certainly not the kind of thing you see in the average sitting room. Instead of little flowers, it had huge creeping plants embroidered on it, and its legs were carved in the shape of giant writhing snakes. Nevertheless, when Persephone gestured towards it, Pirithous and Theseus politely sat down.
That was a big mistake. Because this was no ordinary sofa. ZOOOONK!!! Immediately the carved snakes came to life and wound themselves round their legs and arms. The creeping plants burst into flower and wrapped their tendrils around the bodies of the two heroes. Then the cushions melted into sticky holdfast glue and they couldn’t move an inch. If you’ve ever felt stuck on a sofa talking to someone boring, it was nothing compared to this. These guys were never going to get out.
‘Help!!!’ they yelled. ‘Let us out!‘
At least that’s what they tried to yell, but they couldn’t. When they opened their mouths not a sound came out – which is no surprise. A big snake had wrapped itself round their faces, from ear to ear.
‘You will remain here for ever,’ said Persephone, ‘silent and stupid. You men – with your noise and your boasting and silly little pointed swords. Me – come away with you? I’d rather run away with an unattractive hippopotamus.’
And having put them firmly in their place, she politely disappeared into thin air.
It was not a good situation. For weeks the friends sat glued to their sofa, and the harder they wriggled, the tighter they were trapped. They couldn’t eat or drink because the stupid snake had fallen asleep on their faces. Soon they both looked like skeletons – half dead dead men in the land of the dead. Theseus, the King who killed the Minotaur, had a feeling his luck had run out.
But then, one day, they woke to the sound of a terrifying hammering on the ceiling above. Boom. Boom. Boom!!
Then BOOOOMMM!!!!
The ceiling cracked open and daylight flooded in. Seconds later, a rope snaked down to the ground, followed by a big burly man. The biggest burliest man in the world. Yes – it was Hercules. And not a moment too soon.
‘I thought I might find you here,’ he said and sprinted towards the sofa. And well he might – there was no time to spare. Straightaway, Queen Persephone’s voice echoed round the cavern.
‘Who has dared enter the Underworld?’ she screamed.
In a flash, the walls began to shake, boulders crashed down from the ceiling and the floor started to crack, leaving huge gaping holes that bubbled slimy purple lava. Hercules had to move fast. He dodged and weaved as trickily as an Argentinian footballer until he made it to the sofa with only a couple of flesh wounds. Once there, he wrapped his strong arms round his old pupil Theseus and the veins stood out on his bronzed biceps like veins on a piece of marble as he pulled and pulled to free him from the Sofa of Death.
ZERRROINCH!! There was a long tearing noise like the sound of a giant zip being opened and in a flash Theseus was free. He would have run off straightaway, but there was such an agonising throbbing in his rear end that he had to take a look behind. It was not a pretty sight. Unfortunately, that ripping sound had been the sound of his bottom. Half of it was still left on the sofa.
(And for those of you who are interested in useless facts, that is why, to this day, Athenians have such small bottoms.)
But this was no time for gathering interesting facts. Hercules dragged his half-bottomed friend across the slippery black floor, avoiding rocks and lava and falling debris, until finally Theseus made it to the rope and began to inch his way back to daylight. Then Hercules remembered Pirithous and turned back to the sofa to get him. But it was too late. The whole floor now began groaning and writhing and bubbling – in fact it wasn’t a floor at all, but a hideous hot purple lake. Slowly the sofa began to sink. Pirithous looked up at Theseus and they both knew this was goodbye. And as he disappeared into the lava for ever, Pirithous raised his arm above his head in a silent farewell salute. Soon all you could see was his hand. Then only his fingers, then only his fingernails, and finally – nothing but a black eye patch and a ruby ear-ring floating on the bubbling waters.
Some time later, Theseus lay propped up on the deck of Hercules’ ship, swathed in bandages. The sky was full of jet black smoke, lit only by the inferno from which he’d just escaped.
He looked up at Hercules. ‘Thanks,’ he said huskily.
‘You’ve found your voice then.’
‘Yes,’ replied King Theseus quietly. ‘But I’ve lost the best friend I ever had.’ And as he sailed back towards home, far below in the bowels of the earth, Persephone prowled her lonely corridors with her blind moles in her arms and smiled at the revenge she’d wreaked on the puny men who dared invade her kingdom. She was sorry to lose the sofa, but hell, she thought, everything costs you something.
Back in Athens the boys received a hero’s welcome.
‘Theseus has returned from the Underworld,’ everyone cried. ‘Long live Theseus! Theseus the hero! Theseus the immortal! Theseus the God!’
But Theseus had lost his friend, his ship, and half his bottom – and his dreams were haunted by the look of contempt in Persephone’s eyes. He felt a total failure.
After that, years went by and Athens grew bigger and more powerful. Soon it was the centre of the whole known world. But its famous King hardly spoke to anyone. All he ever seemed to do was stare out at the sea, as he slowly turned into an old man.
Then one spring morning, there was a knock at the palace door. Standing there was a proud young man looking just like Theseus had twenty years before.
‘My Lord,’ he said. ‘My name is Jason. I’m sailing to the far away land of Colchis to steal the Golden Fleece. I’ve got room for twenty heroes. You may be old, but you’re top of my list. How about it?’
Theseus didn’t say a word. He kicked off his velvet slippers and pulled on his old sandals; he slipped out of his dressing gown and slapped on some oil; he threw away his crown and strapped on his short stubby sword; then he put his arm around Jason’s shoulder and the two of them walked out of the palace without once looking back.
Bobbing gently in the harbour was Jason’s golden boat. Theseus climbed aboard and took his place. On one side of him sat Hercules picking his teeth. On the other sat Daedalus making a compass from the bones of a dolphin. At last Theseus was really home. Home on the open sea, in search of adventure.
Jason gave the word and the twenty heroes leant on their oars. Out of the harbour they rowed, across the wide ocean and over the horizon towards Colchis. If they’d known what horrors were in store they might not have gone…
But that’s another story.