The White Bull Read online

  The White Bull had himself carried on his old uncomfortable litter to a high place from which his voice, still powerful, could reach us. He spoke to us sadly, saying that we were doomed to defeat by the science and engineering of a vastly more advanced society. To those of our army who surrendered, he promised that their lives would be spared, and that eventually they would be set free again, after a period of re-education.

  It was at this moment, while the Bull was still speaking, that the sun came out in perfect clearness for the first time since the great unnatural darkness had descended. Its rays gleamed impersonally on the bronze-colored and undamaged metal of Talus, who stood by the White Bull's side. This was taken by everyone as a significant omen, and a cheer went up from the loyalist army.

  On our side, Heracles still grumbled, and uttered low-voiced challenges to the metal man. Still the two had never yet come into direct personal confrontation, and it seemed unlikely that they ever would before the very end. The orders given by Theseus still stood, and I thought that only they had saved his soldier Heracles from certain destruction in combat against the man of metal.

  When the White Bull had finished his speech the fighting resumed, the men on our side now fighting mainly for survival. Few had surrendered, because they were suspicious of the Bulls idea of education, and some of them feared it more than death. Still it was becoming plainer and plainer to everyone that the revolt was a hopeless cause, doomed now to an early collapse.

  The fighting, as I say, resumed. Heracles and the Bronze Man once more dueled with missiles, Heracles holding the high ground atop a cliff that was all but impossible for even Talus to scale quickly.

  Unfortunately there was not enough loose rock on the height to afford the material for another avalanche. And at last Heracles was stunned, by the flying fragment of a hurled rock that exploded because it hit the cliffside near him with such force.

  Looking down from my position of aerial advantage, I saw to my dismay that the loyalist infantry were closing in, and that Theseus too had somehow been knocked out of the fight, at least temporarily. He was down on the ground, and his helmet had been knocked off.

  With a sinking heart I realized that in terms of leadership, the main burden of what remained of the resistance had now fallen upon me. Not that I was, or had ever been, a military leader; but my possession of wings gave me a status in the eyes of friend and foe alike, far beyond what the mere possession of a brain had ever done.

  I resolved to do my best. I thought that at least, perhaps, I could distract the enemy long enough to give Theseus some kind of a chance to recover.

  As I circled nearer over the chief combatants on the ground, dodging arrows and slung stones as best I could, I caught a glimpse of Thorhild watching. From the stillness of the pose I realized that she must be preparing herself for my death as well as for her own.

  Talus, methodical and untiring as always, was now climbing upon a minor crag to get himself that much closer to me. I realized at once that he meant to bring his throwing arm and his deadly heat-ray within easy killing distance of his chief remaining enemy. Fear whispered in my heart that winged escape was still easily possible for me, and there was nothing more for me to do. Anger and weariness replied that I might indeed get away for a moment; but hardly more than that. Nowhere on Crete would now be safe for me to land. And I was too weary, too much weakened with the minor wounds I had sustained in recent fighting, to be able to fly far.

  Soon, quite soon, I would have to come down out of the sky somewhere, and Talus would be waiting for me when I did. Then, if not sooner, he would kill me as he had killed my son.

  Something, a great shadow of some kind, came across the face of the sun, and I turned in the air to look up and behind me, even now alarmed to think the mass of atmospheric dust and ashes might be returning. But this was only an ordinary, or almost ordinary, summer cloud, presaging and carrying rain. No help there in omens for the lost cause.

  I thought I heard the voice of Icarus, crying his fear and pain to me, crying out of the fresh wind that blew in advance of the approaching thunderstorm.

  The wet mists came closer and I rose into them. Dodging flying in and out of the lowering cloud, I maneuvered as if to reach a position from which I could handily dive and attack the litter of the Bull�and that of the queen—as they were being carried away from their victory.

  As I came marginally closer, Talus aimed his heat-ray and fired it at me. There was a violet burning of the air around me, and a violet afterimage in my eyes. Sudden, blasting heat seemed to make the vaporous cloud boil around me as I dodged through it as best I could.

  Thunder crashed again. I remembered the Bull, talking to me in a friendly way long months ago, telling me that his people came from some world where for some reason there were no thunderstorms or lightning.

  I prayed to Gaea, the goddess of Earth, and what I can only describe as divine guidance came to me�perhaps some special education from the Bull, received earlier, helped me to the essential insight. The voice of my dead son spoke to me again, out of the steaming whirlwind that the cloud around me had become. This time I was assured that the gods of earth had heard my prayers.

  I saw blue fire, such as will sometimes visit the mast of a ship at sea, dance along my own limbs, radiating vibrantly from each of my moving wingtips.

  Talus fired his beams at me again.

  But at that very moment the blessed Gaea entered the combat on my side. Her great spear flashed in the air, blinding and deafening me, but striking down my enemy. Unable to see clearly, still I sensed the dazzling pathway of that spear-thrust, I felt and understood the force that followed the electrified track made in the air by the much smaller searing beam of Talus, the overwhelming force that traced that track down from the cloud straight to its grounded source, and blasted it, almost into nothingness.

  My eyes were blinded and my ears rang with the thunderclap, yet somehow I managed to keep myself aloft. Then when I could see again I landed, and rejoined my comrades.

  Everyone in both armies had had a clear view of what happened to the Bronze Man on his crag. Within minutes afterward, nine-tenths of the enemy troops were scattering in blind panic, at this final evidence that the divine powers were not arrayed against them. The remaining tenth soon thought it wise to follow them, or to surrender where they stood.

  Theseus, given a brief breathing space, had already somewhat recovered. Walking with Heracles and myself, he climbed to the place where Talus had been struck down, and looked in awe upon the smoldering wreckage that was all that remained of him. There were only bits of bronze and other, stranger materials, all far too hot to touch, and none of them bigger than my hand.

  Shortly the irregular troops of our victorious army were thronging around Heracles and Theseus, congratulating them upon the favor of the Fates who had allowed them to escape, and had even at last given them the victory.

  Great victories are not for artisans, but for kings and heroes, and I prudently and gradually retreated into the background, letting those have the glory who were much better equipped to deal with it. Until now I have kept quiet about the truth of the matter; but now, as I say, I seek to glorify the truth.

  With the passing of the line of thunderstorms, the last of the gloom that had lain upon the land for days was gone, though for many days to come the sunsets and sunrises were spectacularly beautiful.

  Of course much human confusion, political, religious, and military, still lingered in the aftermath of the volcanic eruption. But Theseus and those who followed him could for the time being do what they wished.

  Last-minute turncoats, eager to bring good news to the winners, informed us that the queen, seeing Talus destroyed by lightning, and herself deserted by her entire army, had committed suicide.

  Someone, an hour later, brought Theseus her head upon a pole. Methodically, acting as de facto chief of staff, I made sure that it was properly identified.

  But Pasiphaë had never been our chief con
cern anyway. Now I, along with the hero who had been confined in the dungeon with me and escaped its various dangers, at last entered it again in pursuit of the White Bull.

  As I was guiding the pursuers, our foe could neither hide from us nor get away. We at last found him in his innermost lair, where he lay defenseless, deserted now even by his litter-bearers.

  Yet our enemy still possessed impressive dignity. Ignoring the others, even the King of Athens, the White Bull said to me: "Dae-dal-us, I have sought to bring your world the bless-ings of ed-u-ca-tion. In mak-ing your-self my en-emy, you have caused all of your peo-ple in-cal-cul-a-ble loss."

  I said to him, where he lay almost helpless in his clumsy litter: "You have killed my woman and our baby. And then, using your bronze tool that walked on two legs, you killed my only living son. And you tried to kill me too. And then, through Minos who once was a great king you tried again to destroy me. And wantonly to slaughter many who did not even know you. Know that the curse you meant for Sicily and for me has fallen upon Thera instead."

  I have no doubt that the Bull knew that already, having lived through the darkness and the earthquakes with the rest of us. He was grieved by the failure of his plan, but I think only because his revenge had failed of its object, and not at all because of the wanton destruction that failure had visited upon others.

  Then he was philosophical about it. "Why do you hate me, Dae-dal-us? Why?"

  I had already told him one or two of the reasons. But now I admitted that even before the death of Icarus I thought I had had cause.

  He could not or would not understand. "I am not to blame for your wo-man's death, Dae-dal-us. That was a mat-ter of sci-ence."

  "Science!" Thorhild, standing now by my side, savored the strange word and did not like its taste. She took me gently by the arm, as if to remind me that our battle had been won.

  "Kal-lis-te was cho-sen by lot to be a member of the con-trol group in the test."

  "The test?"

  "One of the man-y tests sci-ence re-quires. To con-vince my med-i-cal stu-dents, by dem-on-stra-tion, that the meth-ods I had been teaching them were wor-thy. Mem-bers of one group re-ceived the aid of an ed-u-ca-ted phys-i-cian. Mem-bers of the o-ther group did not. The re-sults were, I think, con-clu-sive. I am sor-ry that she died, but her life was sac-ri-ficed for sci-ence. Few peo-ple can die deaths of such mean-ing, if that is com-fort to you."

  "Your death too will be meaningful, White Bull."

  He looked at me, waiting for the stroke to fell.

  I was not sure that the Bull was listening to my words, but waiting for me to draw a weapon. Instead I told him what the king had told me. "Dionysus has somehow escaped. But Theseus, with the consent of what remains of Crete, means to transport you to Athens, and there offer you as sacrifice upon the altar of Athena."

  And so it came to pass.