The White Bull Page 13

  Kena'ani prayed to his Phoenician gods, and observed the flight of sea birds, seeking an omen. To my relief these oracular efforts confirmed that my advice was good, and trying to find Prince Theseus would be our wisest course.

  The voyage to Naxos was quite a long one, I suppose five thousand stadia as the winged creature flies, and it occupied us for nearly a month. This time included several short stops for supplies of food and water, and a small amount of trading—and the whole of this time I kept my new wings carefully rolled up, concealed from everyone but Kena'ani. He was assuming an ever more openly proprietary interest in my invention, until I sometimes wondered silently which of us was the inventor. Constantly he reminded me that the wings must not be revealed to anyone but a person of immense wealth, someone who would have the power to suitably reward the proprietors.

  During our voyage to Naxos we traversed a great part of the coast of mainland Greece, following the shoreline closely as a rule, doing a little merchant business here and there at the small ports. There came a day when I realized that we were in the vicinity of Kythera, and that we must therefore be passing close to the small and nameless islet where my son lay buried, and from which Kena'ani had originally taken me aboard his ship.

  I mentioned to my friend the possibility of stopping to try to find the grave of Icarus, that I might mourn and offer sacrifice anew; but he convinced me that the shape of the islet would most likely have altered by now, as the sand was moved about under the influence of wind and wave and current. The chances were, Kena'ani thought, that we would no longer be able to recognize the spot where poor Icarus lay; and in the black mood that came upon me then it seemed to me unlikely that my son's unhappy shade would know the difference anyway.

  As we were now so near Kythera, Crete itself must lie at no great distance to our south and east. But we were determined to steer clear of it. Who ruled upon that island now in Minos's absence, and who would control his lands and fleets when his death became known, were mysteries that neither of us had any wish to investigate personally.

  We even sailed at night, to minimize as much as possible the chance of an encounter with the Cretan navy. But our precautions were perhaps unnecessary. These waters, once so heavily patrolled by Minos's navy, were now all but empty of his ships. Kena'ani frowned upon realizing this state of affairs, and predicted that such a situation could not endure for long without bringing on a recrudescence of pirates, who for generations had been virtually nonexistent in this area.

  Enjoying a fair wind again, we passed north of Crete, I think just out of sight of her tallest peaks, and were on a course for Naxos that would have brought us very close to Thera, had not many of the crew complained, causing the captain to alter his heading somewhat. No one, to Kena'ani's knowledge, had traded on Thera for a generation.

  Twice taking the opportunity to hail a passing merchant ship, we received information on both occasions regarding the situation on Naxos and on Thera now—but the information we received from the two ships was confusing and contradictory. I also found it disquieting. One of our informants assured us that Theseus was still on Naxos; the other, that he was not. The gods were swarming over Naxos now, said one; no, said the other, they had all departed for Thera months ago.

  Only on the single occasion when one of the Cretan navy's war vessels came over the horizon and came in our direction as if meaning to hail us, did I prudently descend into the small below-decks compartment of our ship. I did not want the Cretans to have any idea that the famed artisan Daedalus was on board this particular Phoenician. But the navy craft changed course and ignored us, and I was soon topside again.

  At last the lovely isle of Naxos lay before our prow, looking calm and peaceful in the sunlight.

  There was a range of mountains, their slopes generally forested, running north and south upon this island—these were really more like great hills, in comparison with the much higher mountains on the much larger land masses of Sicily and Crete. Kena'ani pointed out the highest peak on Naxos to me as Mt. Drios, saying that was its ancient name.

  When our small ship had made her way into the one small harbor that Naxos possessed, we found the quays and docks there ominously deserted, totally empty of ships except for a couple of unseaworthy hulks. Trade, as on Thera, must have come to a halt here some time ago. Screaming sea birds, already unaccustomed to disturbance, rose up from nests already established on what must have been, only a few months past, a busy mole. No one, not a single person, appeared to greet or challenge us when we tied up at a dock.

  This situation was worse than we had expected. With a squad of half a dozen volunteers from among the crew, the captain and I at once began a cautious search of the waterfront area. Very quickly we discovered that all of the buildings we entered had been for some time abandoned.

  When we reported this discovery to the rest of the crew, there was strong muttering among the men, many of whom openly refused to go anywhere inland.

  The captain accepted their decision. This was not a situation at sea, where tradition would have allowed Kena'ani to enforce his captain's orders by death if need be; instead, as he assured the men several times, this was more a matter of trading, in which all the crew traditionally were allowed a say.

  There was a minor uproar when one of the crew, while drawing fresh water from a well on the hill above the abandoned town, discovered in the muddy soil what he claimed were the footprints of some Bull-like creature, walking on two legs. I had seen the tracks of the Cretan Bull on the rare occasions when he had ventured off pavement, and I could have attested that these were very similar. But I kept silent, not wishing to spoil my chance of meeting Theseus or Ariadne, if either were still here.

  We continued for a time to look around among the empty buildings of the town; then Kena'ani, frowning, announced that he saw in this situation a rare opportunity for trade.

  "I think you see such golden chances everywhere, my friend. Tell me, how do you plan to engage in commerce with empty buildings?"

  "But don't you see? If only we can find out where the people who lived here a few months ago have fled, our chance will come then. Of course they will have taken their most precious valuables with them—and they will be in sore need of many things as well, and ready to pay dearly."

  I sighed and gave up the argument. We persisted in our search, enlarging its area until at last we were able to locate a few of the local people, who were eking out a wretched existence in a cluster of dilapidated huts—these were a mere handful of old folk, too feeble, or too indifferent to life, to have got away with the rest of the townsfolk when they believed themselves threatened by disaster.

  When we appeared before these elders most of them looked at us fearfully, and were as silent as the rocks in the harbor. But one toothless crone was more than ready to talk with any visitor who would listen. From her we were able to confirm that the gods, or at least one of them, had been active on the island for several months, from about the time the black-sailed ship arrived until it left again. Further details were hard to come by.

  The crone's speech encouraged some of the other ancient ones, who in exchange for honey and mead brought from our ship's stores began to tell us stories of the Bull-like creatures from Thera, who had recently started coming here to Naxos, evidently in search of something. No one had dared to try to speak to those august visitors, so no one had a clue as to what they might be seeking.

  "How do they travel?" my friend the captain demanded. "In what kind of ship?"

  One old man, whispering hoarsely, reported having seen with his own eyes the god Dionysus, traveling here from Thera in a kind of flying chariot, which he had caused to land on a ridge above the town. After getting out of his machine and looking about him for a while, the god had remounted and flown away again. He had not looked at all like a Bull, but had appeared in the guise of a handsome young man.

  "How do you know it was Dionysus, father?" Kena'ani asked, with tolerant skepticism.

  "It
was he, no doubt about it." The elder, looking frightened, dropped his voice to a hoarse whisper. "The one all the women have lately taken to worshipping."

  The captain and I exchanged glances, both of us being puzzled by this description. All our lives we had heard of Dionysus as an ancient and kindly god of vegetation. So had the rest of the world until that time. Kena'ani looked back to the crone who had spoken to us first. "What does he mean, 'the women?' "

  The old woman cackled, as if at some delicious joke. "Not me, I'm too old for that kind of worship. The young ones do it."

  "Do what?"

  But she would only repeat the name of Dionysus to me, over and over, the one word interspersed with her cackling. Eventually I said that I thought that particular god concerned himself only with harvests and the like.

  The talkative old woman only laughed.

  One of the old men who had so far been silent now spoke up in unsmiling warning to us: "Watch out for the women."

  "What women?" I was as puzzled as my friend. "What is all this about 'the women?' Are the females on this island more dangerous than those elsewhere? Why?"

  But the ancient and feeble ones had been imbibing our mead as steadily as they could, and by now the great majority of them were nodding off to sleep. The talkative woman, having had her share of drink as well, would only sing in a cracked voice.

  Returning to the ship again, we informed the rest of the crew of these latest mysterious developments. Before the captain and I could ascertain how many of the men might still be willing to explore the interior of the island with us, a sailor we had posted as sentinel raised an alarm.

  A savage-looking group of half a dozen men, all crudely armed though none of them were dressed like soldiers, were approaching the town and port from inland. Cautiously Kena'ani and I, with half the crew beside us, went a short distance to meet them. We identified ourselves to these men as traders, and they said in reasonable tones that they were citizens of the island who had seen our ship and had come to give us warning. Also one or two of them pleaded to be allowed to sail away with us, and urged us to leave while there was yet time.

  Talking with the members of this savage-looking band, we learned that they were in fact the formerly peaceful natives of this town and island; but for the past several months they had lived effectively cut off from the equally wild and savage women, who were formerly their wives, sisters, and daughters.

  The men told us that ever since the arrival of the new Dionysus on the island, most of the women of Naxos—almost all of them except the very old—had abandoned their homes and families in favor of being the cult-worshippers of this new, mysterious, and decidedly fleshly god who bore an old god's name. As for the men of the island, as represented by this band, they almost never had contact any longer with the women, except for occasional armed clashes. Men who were caught alone by the roaming packs of predatory females were kidnapped and carried away to be used as sacrifices in the strange new rites. I gathered that these men in return now routinely engaged in ambushes of the females, kidnapping, raping, and usually murdering women whom they accused of already having murdered their own menfolk.

  It sounded utter madness to me. As we talked, I saw movement in a thicket on the hillside above the town; small heads appeared there, with dark feral eyes gazing down at us. I was told by the native men that here and there the surviving children of this island still existed, running like their elders in wild packs divided by sexes, armed and carrying out a war of mutual destruction on their own level.

  Our crew of traders had now heard more than enough to satisfy them about the local situation. All but a very few of the Phoenician sailors now gave up completely on the idea of trading here, or conducting any further exploration. The Phoenicians were men accustomed to danger, but still very prudent about sticking their heads into it when there was no immediate prospect of profit.

  But Kena'ani himself, along with one or two of his crew, were able to accept this situation, as he did all other situations, as a challenge. He was determined to be able to extract a profit anywhere, and if he had been sentenced to hang he would probably have managed to sell the rights to his freshly-executed body to a wizard first. At least we were not going to cut and run from the harbor immediately.

  Some of the more sober of the gang of island men informed us of something that, in contrast to all the loose talk of gods, was easy to believe. Some months ago the ship of Prince Theseus had been in this harbor for a few days. But then one morning the black-sailed vessel had been gone. However, one of the princesses who had arrived with the Athenian was still here—indeed, she had become the leader of the worst cult-group of women—and now lived up in the hills.

  Another of the men confirmed that the princess who had come with Theseus—or one of the two princesses at least—was still here. Yes, our informants were very sure of that. The taller princess—that would certainly be Ariadne, I thought—was up in the hills, at the center of the council of the most dangerous women.

  Presently the band of men went back into the woods, except for a couple of their number who were determined to take passage on our ship, being willing to risk anything rather than stay on this island any longer. These two sat down on the dock beside our ship, until we should be ready to depart.

  Both Kena'ani and myself were somewhat encouraged by that last relatively credible report. Neither of us entirely believed the stories of packs of cannibal women seizing men and killing them in strange rites; but obviously, at best, a dangerous situation obtained here, and something we did not understand was going on.

  In the end it was decided in a conference with our crew that the captain and I would do all the exploration from here on. Leaving the entire crew aboard ship, the two of us went inland a very little way, until we were just out of sight of the harbor village. There I put on my wings, being determined to undertake some further explorations on my own, in what seemed the least dangerous way possible.

  Leaving Kena'ani, who said he intended to conduct some explorations of his own on foot, I rose into the air and flew, dodging away among the treetops so that none of our crew were able to see me on the wing. The captain and I were both uncertain of what effect the sight of a flying man might have on them.

  My course took me at but a slight altitude around some low hills, and carried me completely out of sight of the harbor. It was still broad daylight, and the land below me lay open for discovery.

  In less than an hour I had surveyed most of the lower regions of the island, everywhere observing neglected fields, abandoned cottages, and uncared-for vineyards—though I saw evidence that some of these latter, at least, were still being cultivated.

  In one woody glade a band of naked female children, armed with bows and slings, went scrambling away in fright as I soared overhead. I turned the other way, not wishing to provoke a shower of missiles.

  Gradually I rose higher over the mountain's increasing slopes. As far as I could tell, it was possible that a dozen bands of feral men, and of separated women maddened by their strange new god, might be concealing themselves in the trees below me. If the men of the island had told us the truth, the Princess of Crete might be attached to any one of those bands. But from what I knew of Ariadne, I thought that, mad or not, if she had a choice she would choose no ordinary setting in which to live.

  Higher and higher I flew, continuing my search as best I could. Eventually, in another glade high on the mountain's shoulder, and almost inaccessible by land, I saw the princess, recognizing her at once.

  To all appearances Ariadne was alone. I beheld her sitting, apparently at ease, in a small natural hollow between two mossy rocks. She did not look up when I passed almost directly overhead at a low elevation, but remained busy with some fabric work, sewing or knitting, that she held in her lap. Though her face was turned down to her work, her gown looked royal, and I felt certain that it was she.

  I landed lightly upon an exposed crag nearby, and without loosening my wings walked back into
the woods along a little path, cautiously observing to see if anyone else was about. But at first I was able to see no one.

  As I approached the princess looked up, recognized me at once, and in a calm voice bade me welcome.

  "Daedalus—but those are wings that you are wearing. Are they real? Can you fly?"

  I thought she was accepting the invention with unwarranted calm. "They are real enough, Your Highness."

  "How very clever!" She might have been complimenting me on a new design for a wooden toy.

  I knelt briefly before her, as of old. "Not entirely a result of my own cleverness, Princess, but partly a gift of the White Bull."

  A small frown creased Ariadne's lovely forehead, and she was silent for a moment, as if she might be trying to recall who the White Bull might be.

  "How clever of him, then," she said at last, dismissing the matter with a small sigh. It was as if her mind, her real attention, was somewhere else. Then the Princess brightened again. "But in any case I bid you welcome, Daedalus." And now her welcome sounded almost as if she had actually been expecting me. There was a sweet, dreamy expression upon her lovely face as she put down her knitting, and clapped her hands to summon an attendant�certainly there was no sign in her demeanor of the raving cultist who had been described so luridly by the frightened men below.

  Looking around to see who might answer the princess's summons, I heard a liquid murmuring, and saw how a pretty little spring emerged from between rocks, and went trickling away downhill. A pair of human figures now caught my attention, as two female attendants emerged from a poor hut, the only building in sight, tucked away among the nearby trees. Somehow I had missed seeing the hut when I flew over. Whatever this encampment might be exactly, it did not meet the usual standards of a royal lodging. And here in her sylvan dwelling the princess appeared to be attended by only a few ragged, uncivilized-looking, rather ugly young women.