The White Bull Page 22

  In a moment the little fountains had vanished again, but the grumbling and the shifting of the earth went on.

  "Look! There!"

  I looked, up in the sky. It was the flying machine of Dionysus once again, glittering away from Crete through distant air, presumably headed for some quieter island.

  And yet again the ground lurched and quivered under our feet. Some of the walls around us were collapsing entirely, and we bolted through the newly created apertures for the open air.

  Tremors tormenting the subterranean foundations of Crete were nothing new—just Poseidon Earth-Shaker flexing his muscles again—but shocks of such violence were certainly extraordinary. And today the initial shock was followed in three or four minutes by a horrendous noise, of a kind that I have never heard at any other time, before or since, that which I pray all the gods of earth and sea and sky I may never hear again. All I can say in the way of description is that it resembled a whole battery of distant thunderstorms raging at once, and with an ominously different quality in the thunder.

  Theseus and I, climbing our way out of the half-ruined Labyrinth over one after another of its broken walls, found that no one was paying any attention to our escape, though we were in sight of several of the queen's guards and soldiers.

  Nor, in fact, did we pay these potential enemies much attention either. I saw Theseus staring into the sky, a look on his face that I had never seen there before. I raised my own gaze to the heavens.

  A dark cloud, racing toward us over the sea from the north as swiftly as the magic vehicle of Dionysus had fled away, was overspreading the whole lower third of the sky in that direction, in the process blotting out the northern horizon entirely.

  Theseus was murmuring the names of gods, as if he were appealing to them for help, one of the few times that I have ever heard him do so.

  The roar of human voices that went up from the streets of the town grew stronger gradually, but still it was tiny by comparison with the world-sounds that had preceded it.

  As we made our way from palace and Labyrinth, and through the town, we were met by numbers of people, civilians of both sexes, of all classes and ages, all of them running in blind panic.

  Some at least of these distraught citizens were headed for the Temple of Poseidon, and I saw one group of them vanish into the broad, dark doorway, two blocks away. Only moments later, another earth-shock brought the great lintels and roof-beams of the temple crashing down, and I am sure that all inside it perished.

  Theseus stopped to harangue the people remaining in the street, grabbing them by the arms and forcing them to listen when he could. He even made some headway among those not totally blinded by panic, convincing a dozen men or so at least to take up such arms as they could find and follow him. It was their duty as Cretans, he told them, to rid this, their beautiful island, of the queen and monster whose unnatural union had provoked the gods almost to the destruction of the entire world.

  Before an hour had passed, my friend the king and hero had placed himself once more in command of an army, albeit only a small and rudimentary one.

  * * *

  CONTINUING EDUCATION

  Initially our small army looked as if it might achieve some success. This profitable skirmishing lasted until the following day, when my heroic friend led his hastily organized force against the palace and it ran into some disciplined resistance from the queen's guard. Then, like other inspired mobs, it melted away like mountain snow brought down into summer's heat.

  Despite the best leadership that Theseus could exert, most of the poorly-armed rabble that were his followers turned and fled at the first volley of arrows. Shortly afterward the King of Athens and I, with a mere handful of adherents, found ourselves in an alley of the city, trying to reorganize. Even the omens in the sky had turned against us for the time being; the great cloud in the northern sky had slowed its advance, the sun was shining brightly, and for the moment the earth beneath our feet was quiet.

  Following our rout, a company of soldiers had pursued us from the palace, and now they pressed an attack. Just as we were on the verge of being overrun completely, panic began and spread swiftly in the enemy ranks, and I was sure that they were being attacked somehow from the rear.

  In a few moments I had my explanation. Our long-sought comrade Heracles burst into view, riding a wild bull that he had somehow tamed into carrying him. He steered the beast by twisting on its horns. His mighty left hand sufficed to manage this, while with his right he swung his huge log-club, and thrust with it. Bronze armor dented in and crumbled under his blows, and human flesh was mangled. As in the fight at sea, his own body seemed almost impervious to weapons.

  In what seemed no time at all, the company of guards who had been on the verge of defeating us were killed or scattered. Now the hard core of revolutionaries, a dozen men or so, who had remained with us were much heartened, as well as being better armed with weapons picked up from the fallen soldiers.

  Now a different cloud, higher up the northern sky and composed of slower-moving darkness, appeared to be threatening to engulf the entire heavens eventually.

  During that first period of active fighting I had made no effort to put on my wings. At first Theseus had wanted to keep his winged man as a surprise weapon, in reserve; and then when things began to go badly, danger had been so close and immediate on every hand that I had feared to put down my weapons long enough to fasten straps. But now, on the orders of Theseus, I put on my wings again at last, and soared into the smoky air to reconnoiter.

  A couple of slung stones passed my way before I had attained very great altitude, but the arm of Talus was not behind them, and they represented only a minor threat. When I had climbed through the air for the better part of an hour, I was able to see a great deal.

  The whole island of Crete, or at least a very large portion of it, was now in a state of general revolt. Flying close to the ground, I exchanged shouts with two of the rebellious leaders, informing them of the presence of Theseus near the palace, and urging them to press on in that direction. Nine out of ten who saw me flying only stared at me, but a few were still capable of rational thought and communication, and I had hopes of these, which I reported to my lord when I rejoined him shortly before sunset.

  By morning our small army had again grown considerably, and it was greatly augmented by more fearful citizens after the dawn had come up frighteningly red and dim. Throughout the morning the sun struggled behind a thickening veil of darkness that had now come to dominate almost the entire sky.

  Still the elite troops guarding the Labyrinth remained loyal to the queen, and were too strong for us to engage successfully in a direct attack; even Heracles, who led our initial charge, was stunned by a hurled rock in the first minutes of the fight. His bronze helmet was bashed in, and his head suffered a blow that would have crushed any ordinary human skull.

  We had to drag our strong man away to save his life, and the morale of our irregular forces suffered greatly as a consequence. Heracles, to our great relief, soon regained consciousness, but for some hours he remained almost helpless. Out of necessity we retreated again, and sought hiding places in the buildings of the ruined city. That ruin was proceeding rapidly; what the earthquake had so far failed to destroy, fire and war were quickly starting to devour.

  Whenever I climbed to a high place, or took wing on another scouting expedition, I could see that most of the palace and the Labyrinth still survived.

  Fortunately by the next morning Heracles appeared almost as good as new, save for the gash on his head. Theseus, wisely as I thought, decided to hold him in reserve, until our army as a whole should appear to have a chance of standing up to the regular troops in a pitched battle.

  During the subsequent hours and days, as long as the unnatural darkness continued to dominate the skies of Crete, Heracles kept our spirits up by refusing to be overawed by any of the outrageous behavior of the sea or earth or sky.

  He also regaled us with many a wild ta
le of the adventures he had experienced in getting ashore despite the Bronze Man, and in traveling overland during the following days to reach the point of rendezvous. Talus, we gathered, had pursued him a good part of the way. Nor had anything discouraged the Bronze Man in his pursuit until Heracles from the top of the cliff had pried loose one boulder after another and thus launched a landslide onto him. Whether the metal man had actually been destroyed or not Heracles could not say. But at least his arrival in the vicinity of the palace had been considerably delayed.

  Several times, also, while trying to reach the point of rendezvous, Heracles had grown angry at somewhat less threatening delays, and had lashed out at those Cretans he considered responsible. Each of these episodes had been followed by a period of remorse, in which he had tried, not always successfully, to make amends for some damage that he had caused. If he had been days overdue in reaching the point of rendezvous, he was sorry, but really there had been no help for it.

  Theseus assured his best fighter that he was forgiven, and asked him questions. What else had Heracles observed on his trip overland? Were the people really rising everywhere against the queen and Bull?

  Yes, just about everywhere, Heracles responded confidently. Once he had realized that a civil war was breaking out, he had quickly become convinced of the justice of the rebels' cause, and had openly taken part in some of the fighting, even before he had reached us.

  "Good!" And Theseus clapped him heartily on the shoulder. I noticed that the impact even had a different sound than it would have done on ordinary flesh.

  The cause of the rebellion in the vicinity of the palace was now immeasurably strengthened.

  With Heracles now recovered from his injury and fighting at full strength beside us, the two heroes provided a nucleus of strength around which the local resistance was able to gather with increasing confidence.

  At last, for the first time since the dawn had come without the sun's appearing at all, Theseus ordered me to slip on my wings and scout. It needed courage for me to soar up into that unnatural haze. The cloud was very low over the city and Labyrinth, and the inside of it was unexpectedly warm. The atmosphere there choked me in a way that no normal cloud ever did. I was breathing dust and noxious gases, not watery fog. Yet I determined to press on, and was at last rewarded by a thinning of the shadow above me.

  When at last I broke out, I was perhaps higher in the air than I had ever flown before, though it was hard to be sure, as the ground was almost nowhere visible. The higher cloud was still above me, but it was thinner than before. With tears in my eyes I gave thanks to all the gods of creation that the sun and sky still existed, that all the powers of the greatest curse the Bull could devise were unable to destroy them. The cloudscape around me and below me had a magnificence beyond anything I had ever seen, even in the educational visions induced by the Bull.

  At last I descended, finally regaining the territory held by my friends. Happily I was able to report to them that above the unnatural blackness, sun and sky existed just as before.

  Some of the men whined fearfully: "But what good is that to us if we are never more to see them?"

  I tried to be reassuring; what I had seen of the sky had convinced me that eventually, this cloud, like any other cloud, would pass.

  Meanwhile we heard that the students of the upper school, chronically rebellious, had turned against their teachers and administrators, and tried to seize control of the school. They had had at least some limited success.

  I was worried anew about Thorhild, who had survived the collapse of the Labyrinth dungeons and had managed to rejoin us a day later. Since the fighting had started she had been never far from my side, and indeed she had become my constant companion by day and night. Now, almost the only times we were separated were when I put on my wings and soared into the sky.

  For days the panic, the strange smoky darkness in the sky, and the rebellion raged together, each phenomenon seeming to draw strength from the others. Then the darkness weakened. There were no longer periods in which it was absolute, for which we thanked the gods. Yet the unnatural gloom persisted, with only occasional tantalizing periods when the cloud lightened enough for the sun to seem on the verge of breaking through. Meanwhile the aftershocks of the great earthquake continued, though on a diminishing scale. Everywhere in Crete, people going abroad at midday had to grope their way, muttering fearful incantations against the divine wrath. Sometimes armied clashes began, only to break off in mutual terror when the combatants felt some renewed trembling of the earth beneath their feet.

  Within a few days, all across the island, or so we heard from harried refugees and other travelers, most of the palaces that had been built by Minos over a period of decades lay in ruins.

  And wherever music and wine could be found, the worship of Dionysus raged—there is no other word for the license and the savagery, as they were reported, and as I was able to see with my own eyes on one or two occasions. Comely young men and women alike were kidnapped, and I feared for Thorhild, who was an attractive girl. Also the god himself was reported to have returned to Crete, and to have been seen in several places on the island. It was not impossible, though I believed that Dionysus would not risk the situation as it now stood, and would be conducting his parties elsewhere.

  So fragmentary and contradictory were the reports that Theseus had reluctantly come to the same conclusion. He accepted that his plans for a confrontation with Dionysus must be indefinitely postponed. The young king resolved to find glory in the fighting and the danger of the revolt, and when the two of us were alone he once or twice whispered to me his dreams of adding Crete to an Athenian empire. For the moment even his revenge for humiliation at the hands of Dionysus could be forgotten or at least delayed.

  And another event took place that caused me to rejoice. Sometimes in the midday darkness it seemed likely that the whole world more than a mile from our shores might have been destroyed, but it was not so. My friend Kena'ani still lived, and with his shipful of shaken men, came sailing into port at Heraklion a few days after the explosion. Fortunately he and his men, on coming ashore, immediately fell in with a rebel patrol and were brought to us.

  For once Kena'ani was unnerved, and had no thought of making a profit out of his situation. His ship had been much closer to Thera than to Crete when the smaller island literally exploded.

  We believed the testimony of the captain and his crew when they reported that the island of Thera was no more—only a mere fringe of rock was left of it, they said. Eventually we were to learn that they were exaggerating the degree of destruction, but not by very much. Most of the island was indeed gone, totally destroyed in the great explosion. The sea had rushed in, over what had once been solid land, and for months thereafter renewed explosions under water sent geysers of steam up into the clouds, as the gods of sea and earth contended.

  But at the time of the great darkness, the people of Crete knew nothing of all this, and they cared less regarding events beyond the shores of their own island. The monumental disaster, as Theseus and others told them again and again, had to be considered as a punishment visited upon the land and people of Crete for their toleration of the unnatural union of their late queen with a beast—no one seemed to think it mattered that the beast had some claim to being some kind of a god.

  It was only later, when the great darkness was gone at last, that those disposed to be irreverent wondered aloud why the people who had lived on Thera should have been so punished.

  In the time of the greatest darkness and the repeated earthquakes, as I have said, the great majority of the people of Crete turned against the faction of the queen and the Bull.

  But the Bronze Man, that we had dared to hope had been destroyed in the avalanche sent down on him by Heracles, returned intact two days later. Heracles speculated that it might have taken Talus that long to dig himself out from the mass of rock that had been precipitated upon him.

  Once back in the vicinity of the Labyrinth, Talus
once more fought on the side of the White Bull, and Talus was as invincible as ever.

  The first squadrons of spearmen and pikemen sent against him by Theseus were slaughtered to a man. No human force survived once it was placed in direct opposition to the metal man. Arrows and slung stones rebounded harmlessly from his bronze skin. As a pursuer he was impossible to shake, even temporarily—unless one could hurl avalanches, or happened to have wings—and he cared no more for kings and heroes than he did for peasants who marched against him only to die with their useless spears in hand.

  I was with Theseus when the king surveyed the battlefield a short time after the slaughter. The march and countermarch of our contending armies had moved away, and there was a chance for the commander to try to determine just what had happened here.

  A battlefield is never a pretty sight, but this one had a mystery about it that made it especially horrible. Some of the men appeared to have been burned to death, while still an arrow-shot away from Talus.

  Theseus had some grim comments to make, and warned me to say nothing of the special horror of the burning. But of course word of the horror got out somehow. Whole units of the military who had deserted the established government and joined our cause, or had wavered in their loyalty, now swung their allegiance back to Bull and queen.

  During the next few days we were driven into an ever more constricted territory. Theseus feinted swift attacks upon the Bull and the queen themselves, and caused them to hold Talus in reserve as their personal bodyguard, and only this saved our remaining forces from swift destruction.

  Still the time came when the remaining rebel forces in the region of the palace, Theseus and myself with them, were, outnumbered and surrounded, bottled up in a small valley not far from the harbor.