The White Bull Read online

  Then I returned to the courtyard where the banquet was beginning. While it was in progress I failed somehow to find a good opportunity to revisit my own modest quarters and open the small chest. I ate moderately, and indulged only very lightly in wine. And as the hour grew late, before the King of Crete entered his guest quarters to retire, I returned yet again to his room to make a final inspection of the facilities. Something besides the gift was worrying me and I was not sure what.

  The bath was as big as the bedroom, and contained a deep marble bathtub, almost an artificial pond, actually broad and deep enough for swimming. The tub was empty now, but it could be filled quickly, through the shower heads above it and the gold spouts and faucets at the side. All the newly designed fixtures were in readiness.

  From somewhere out of sight I could hear a faint but steady drip of water; some imperfectly leaded pipe, I thought. Nothing worth bothering about tonight.

  Yet I could not shake my restless mood. I tried my best to put away all thoughts of the secret gift of Minos and the Bull. Before retiring I took myself up to the roof once more, wanting to check yet again the new plumbing that had already been checked and tested a dozen times. I told myself that I feared some defect would show up, and that I would be blamed for it.

  At the banquet Minos had spent a considerable time talking alone with Cocalus, and I worried about what the two kings might have decided in private, and if it had anything to do with me. Could their old enmity have been healed, and an alliance formed? Much would depend upon the attitude of the three Sicilian princesses toward their Cretan guest. They had attended the banquet too, of course, but I thought they might have been excluded from the discussions at the highest level.

  The water tanks on the roof were not directly above the suite where Cocalus was lodging, but atop an adjoining wing of the palace, and the water from them went down through slanted pipes to the guest bathroom. Now I found an elderly slave tending the charcoal braziers that provided for hot water after sundown. The slave was doing a good job of keeping the fires up.

  In fact it seemed to me that he was overdoing matters. I cautioned him: "No more fuel, or the water will start to boil and we'll have steam. That won't do at all."

  The slave, like most of his class not afraid of me at all, stubbornly insisted that he had been ordered not to let the tank grow cool. But I persisted, and eventually persuaded him that some moderation in the fires was necessary.

  From my vantage point on the roof beside the tanks, it was possible to see down at an angle through the roof-opening of a small atrium, directly into the very room where the visiting monarch was about to bathe.

  Two or three other people were in the guest suite with Minos now. That would not have been surprising, but the people I observed were not the attendants who had been with him earlier. Nor were they concubines provided by his host. I experienced a chill near my heart when I saw that all three of the daughters of Cocalus had decided to pay Minos a nocturnal visit in his bath and bedroom.

  I stood on the roof watching, wondering what this turn of events might portend for my future, while the princesses, who had come very informally dressed to begin with, delighted their royal guest by removing in turn certain items of their remaining clothing. Aglaia had come equipped with a set of pan-pipes, or had found them in the apartment, and piped a cheerful air with creditable skill. Meanwhile her sisters performed a teasing dance, that led their royal partner on a circuitous route through the room of the suite, ending in the new bath. At about this time I realized that the sisters had even persuaded Minos to send his personal bodyguards out of the room.

  Now it appeared that the princesses were preparing to share with the befuddled king the inaugural bath of the new Daedalian plumbing. Some at least of the faucets had been opened, and a pond of steaming water was swelling up rapidly in the great tub. I wanted to leave my observation post—could they possibly discover that I was watching?—and at the same time I thought it vitally important to my own future that I know what was going on.

  Meanwhile the hot water was still pouring heavily into the huge tub. From the way it steamed, it was easy to see that the admixture of cold water must be very small or nonexistent. I saw this, and yet in my simple artisan's innocence, I did not yet begin to understand.

  Now Minos, himself naked, had been allowed to capture all three of his softly playful quarry. All were standing crowded together near the tub. With much laughter and energetic gestures the three girls, themselves in the last stages of disrobing, were assuring him that the bath facilities had already been tested. Suddenly for some reason I thought that they were talking about me. It was certainly not impossible that my name should have been mentioned, for the plumbing they were about to enjoy was mine, as was that which Minos was accustomed to using at home.

  Only now did I fully realize that the sisters had managed to dismiss all of the slaves who would usually have been in attendance at a bath, their own as well as Minos's.

  Minos was standing beside the sunken tub and fondling one of the sisters—I do not now remember which one—when the other two moved even closer to them, each of the two taking the monarch by one of his arms. In that moment, at last, I understood, too late to have done anything had there been anything for me to do. In the next moment, just after my shock of realization, the man had been tipped and pushed straight into the scalding water. A scream the like of which I have seldom heard tore out into the night.

  Then, when Minos screamed again, and would have scrambled out of the burning tub, his three soft lovely killers shoved him fiercely back, with shrieks of laughter, so that the King of Crete, howling most pitiably, slid down the smooth and slippery side of the great tub, slid back helplessly into the steam and the murderous heat.

  And now Euphrosyne was turning on yet another of the multiple shower heads, spouting yet more almost-boiling water in upon the helpless victim.

  That was the last event inside the bath that I saw from the roof. In another moment I had broken free of my momentary paralysis and was scrambling down the nearest ladder, adding my own cries of alarm to the uproar Minos was still making. Charging into the nearest ground-level entrance of the palace, I turned toward the guest quarters. The door to Minos's private suite was latched, but Minos's Cretan bodyguards burst it open even as I arrived behind them.

  I was next into the bathroom after them, and like them I was too late to be of the least help to the victim. By this time the three princesses had somehow disappeared.

  Looping towels and sheets around the king's body where it floated, the Cretans and I dragged him from the still almost-boiling water. The soul of the victim had not yet quite departed, but he looked at us through eyes that seemed already to be peering from another world; it was obvious to me, from my first close look at the corpse-like whiteness of his steamed and parboiled body, that the King of Crete was already a dead man.

  We laid him at full length on the tiles of the bathroom floor, and stood around him. There was nothing further we could do.

  At the moment Minos did not seem to be in pain. He recognized me.

  "Daedalus?"

  "Sire, if there is anything that I—"

  "Swear something to me, Daedalus." Word by word, the voice of Minos was sinking into a poisoned whisper.

  "Anything, my lord." At such moments are rash words uttered that shock the gods.

  "The gift I gave you…"

  "Yes, Your Majesty."

  "I want you to swear to me, Daedalus… that the gift I have brought you from myself, my queen, and the White Bull… swear by all you hold holy, that it will be sacrificed to the goddess and the god of earth, as I told you."

  "I swear that it shall be as you say."

  By now the three sisters, who had been nowhere in sight when the bodyguards and I burst in, had reappeared again. They were all wrapped in matrons' robes, as if they had retired decently for the night and then had been roused by the disturbance. And they were talking, sounding petulantly upset as at t
he spoiling of a party. They bustled about in the bathroom, giving irrelevant orders to the servants, who had also reappeared, and vaguely complaining that one of the slaves must be to blame for the tragic scalding.

  Thalia met my eye, saw that I knew more than she had thought, and drew me aside briefly. To others it might have appeared that she was questioning me on the tragedy, but in fact she was imparting information.

  "Know, Daedalus," she whispered, "that our father was making plans, bad plans, with this one who lies on the floor. You were to be sent back to Crete as Minos's captive, in return for a few maritime concessions. Our father has never believed in your wings—but we know better." And the princess smiled confidentially and left me.

  By this time it seemed that everyone in the palace, drawn by the uproar, was trying to crowd into the new bath. After uttering his last words to me, Minos lay breathing lightly, staring through an opening in the roof, as if he could see death coming for him from the sky.

  Meanwhile the members of the visiting king's Cretan escort were hastily gathering in the apartment where their lord had been fatally scalded. Some high-ranking folk among them demanded explanations, but I thought that their demands were half-hearted. From their first look at their master they must have known that he could not possibly survive, and it was now time to see to their own welfare as best they could.

  The three princesses departed, some time before Cocalus at last appeared. The king, doubtless coming from a conference with his daughters, coolly offered his royal sympathies to the members of the Minoan entourage. He assured the Cretans in a calm voice that there would be a complete investigation of the accident, and that whichever slaves were found to bear responsibility would certainly be executed.

  Then Cocalus asked the Cretans if they wanted to take the body of their king with them when they left. This was even a few moments before the Cretan king had actually breathed his last.

  The handful of high-ranking folk of Crete who had accompanied Minos to this place were frightened, and at the same time I thought they were in some sense relieved. Several of them now admitted to me in whispers that the king had been mad during the last month or two of his life. None of them mentioned the plan to return me to Crete, or the gift Minos had handed me—perhaps none of them knew their king had been carrying it.

  One of the Cretan nobles did utter some sober words, for my ears only, about the dangers of anyone's returning to Crete. Observing these people, I felt sure that even among themselves there was now widespread doubt as to whether they wanted to go back.

  Now that they were freed of the constraint of Minos's presence, some of them had some new stories to relate about the Bull and the queen.

  And another member of the delegation hinted that Minos had planned to see to it that I died horribly, if ever he were able to get me into his power again.

  A process of ritual mourning was outlined, to begin at dawn. Meanwhile I spent most of the hour after the king's death talking quietly with the visitors, wanting to know if they would converse more freely now that their master was dead. But there was little that the visiting Cretans were able to tell me about Theseus, or about the royal princesses of Crete, who were still said to be living abroad somewhere. Some stories still put the princesses on Naxos, and by some Prince Theseus was thought to be still there as well.

  I thought with some sadness of Ariadne at least, who had considered me a trusted adviser, almost, as I thought, an uncle.

  Despite the death of my would-be persecutor, I did not retire that night to my usual room to sleep. I had collaborated only indirectly in the death of Minos, and that death in itself was not greatly displeasing to Cocalus. With the ruling house of Crete in such disarray, he probably feared no military retaliation. But I knew that whatever King Cocalus might say to me now, and however he might congratulate himself upon the elimination of a rival, he would someday begin to look upon me as a regicide. Nor would he himself ever, I suppose, dare to take a shower in any plumbing of my construction, whatever precautions I might build in against a repetition of the "accident."

  I thought that my Phoenician friend Kena'ani, having departed just before the arrival of Minos, must still be on his way overland to the port where his ship lay. It seemed to me that with my wings I ought to be able to overtake him easily before he reached it.

  I felt a deep reluctance to fly again for any purpose. But I could foresee only trouble for myself if I remained—trouble that would be multiplied whether I actually made wings for the princesses to fly with, or finally refused to do so.

  I put on my secret wings, and leaped into the air from the roof of that shabby palace, and soared into the night. I did not forget to carry with me the secret, sacred gift of Minos. Whatever it was, whatever power for good or evil it might contain, it was now my responsibility.

  * * *

  GRADUATE STUDY

  Realizing that to locate my traveling friend by night would be virtually impossible, I decided to find some secure tree and roost in it until dawn. To manage this in darkness proved more difficult than I had thought, but at last I was successful. My final choice was a tall pine, leaning inward from an almost inaccessible rocky ledge. With my wings unbuckled I slept curled at its foot—not in its branches, which proved impractical.

  Taking to the air again as soon as dawn gave light enough to see, I found little difficulty in identifying the particular series of roads by which my friend the captain and I had ascended to King Cocalus's domain. Skimming downhill close above these sinuous thoroughfares, I began in earnest my search for Kena'ani. My appearance in the sky created some wild confusion among some slaves and peasants who were early in beginning their day's labors, and also in a party of hunters who had spent the night in camp.

  But with the speed of a bird I soon left these perturbed folk behind me. My flight was much faster than the progress of any man who was forced to follow the switchbacked roads on foot, and I caught up with Kenaani long before he had reached the harbor.

  My friend was traveling alone, hiking along briskly with staff in hand. Recognizing him at a distance and from behind, I flew low over some trees to get ahead of him, and landed in the road so that as he rounded the next turn he came upon me as I stood waiting for him.

  Kenaani stopped in his tracks, staring as if I were a ghost. "Daedalus. How did you get here?"

  I was standing with my wings down at my sides, so that the fringes of soft leather that imitated great feathers trailed in the dust, and the effect must have been of a silvery cape rather than wings. For a moment or two more I might have deceived my companion. But, I reflected, I would hardly be able to do so any longer than that.

  "With these," I answered, and spread my pinions wide.

  The eyes of the Phoenician trader widened; I had concealed from Kenaani my secret project for the Sicilian princesses, and he had never before seen any wings of my making in an unbroken state.

  "Then it is true—but let me see you fly!"

  Considering that I owed him my life, I could hardly refuse this modest request. But almost as soon as I was airborne, my friend became fearful that I would be seen by someone else, and that the secret of my invention would somehow be lost for nothing. So after completing one brief flight, up to treetop level and back, I landed in response to his urgent gestures.

  "Then it is true," he muttered when I once more stood beside him on the ground. "Really true."

  "You still had doubts?" I did not know whether to feel amused or wounded.

  "I had—but never mind. My friend, can you begin to realize what an invention like this is worth?"

  I sighed. "I suppose not—I only know what it has cost me."

  "You will need help—of course you cannot begin to manage it yourself."

  Then, following the good captain's almost frantic urgings, I immediately unstrapped my pinions from my waist and shoulders, rolled them up carefully—the improved model allowed this;�and stowed them neatly out of sight in my friend's backpack. While doing this
I told him what had happened to Minos.

  He frowned and agreed that I had been wise to flee.

  Realizing that I would probably have to do so sooner or later, since we would be traveling together, I told Kena'ani next about the gift of Minos, and showed him the small mysterious box.

  For once, staring at the small coffer in my hands, my friend was silent. At last he asked me: "Have you opened it?"

  "I pulled on the lid once when it was first given to me; but the lid stayed closed. It is somehow locked or sealed, though no fastening is visible. No, I have made no serious attempt to get it open. Nor do I intend to do so, for the time being."

  Again Kena'ani was silent for a time, staring at the box, though making no attempt to take it into his own hands. "You are probably right," he sighed at last, caution winning out for the time being over curiosity. "Let us get to my ship while we can."

  Whether I was going to be pursued or not we did not know, but it seemed a reasonable assumption that my absence was unlikely to have been discovered until morning, and that therefore we had a substantial start on any possible pursuit. Flight in the literal sense should not be necessary. Making the best speed oh foot we could, we reached the harbor late that afternoon. My friend was welcomed tumultuously by the men of his crew, who had once more been on the point of giving us both up for dead. We wasted no time in putting out to sea.

  We had a fair breeze to carry us to the northeast. Only after Sicily was well astern did we inform the crew of the startling events at the court of King Cocalus, leading to the death of the visiting King of Crete. The seamen were impressed to hear of my involvement in such great affairs, and thankful that we had been able to depart without further trouble.

  We were well and safely away from Sicily, but my friend the captain was at first undecided as to where to go next. I had my own ideas on the subject, and by next morning I was working hard to convince Kena'ani and his crew that we ought to sail to Naxos, where we had good hopes of catching up with my old friend Prince Theseus, or at least of learning where he had gone. Though Kena'ani had been but poorly rewarded by King Cocalus for bringing me and my wings to Sicily, the captain was still determined to sell the idea of human flight to some wealthy potentate, and Theseus seemed the most logical choice. I suppose that the indefatigable merchant had plans also to dispose of the gift of Minos at a profit, but he was wise enough not to mention them to me.