The White Bull Read online

  From the way the king was looking at me I felt sure that a mere head-shake was not going to suffice as an answer. And so I said: "The work on the catapult is going as well as can be expected, sire. I await the arrival of the cattle-hides from Thrace, that are to be twisted into the sling." Someone had suggested that Thracian leather had some special qualities. "And while waiting I improve my time by overseeing the construction of the new bronze shields." By a long series of experiments my personally trained metalworkers and I had achieved a somewhat tougher alloy than any previously made by men, though even at that time I suspected our best product was still nothing like the Bronze Man's metal.

  By now the royal Cretan smiths and smelter-workers had been trained as well as I could train them, and needed but little of my supervision. So I had time for thought on other subjects whilst gazing into the flames of forge or furnace; time to see again and again those effortless gull-flights, as my attentive eye and memory had captured them. During the last few years my attention had been drawn more and more to the miraculous abilities of birds. Now I had time to dream one of the greatest of all dreams… but right now that would have to wait.

  "Today, King Minos, I come before you with another matter, one that I am afraid will not wait." And I began to relate to Minos the circumstances of the arrival of the Prince of Athens. I left out neither the black sail nor the drunkenness, though they were mere details compared with the great fact of Theseus's coming to be enrolled in the Bull's school—that would surely mean a great boost for the prestige of Minos, in all the civilized lands of earth.

  As soon as Minos understood what the general burden of my recital was going to be, he made me pause, and led me, his arm around my shoulders, into another room, where it seemed we might be out of earshot of the tax-gatherers. There the king, frowning, heard my story through in detail. As he listened, he paced the floor restlessly, pausing now and then to look out of a window into a courtyard where preparations were under way for the afternoon's funeral games.

  In a short time my relation was finished.

  "So it is going to happen," the king said, "as the Bull foretold."

  "It would seem so, sire," I offered cautiously.

  "If the son of Aegeus himself seeks to enter our school, then who will any longer be reluctant to do so? That first group of two-year graduates must have made a good impression when they returned home—it would seem that the word has gone about the sure way to success and power is to attend our school."

  "So it would seem."

  "You've never thought much of it, though, have you, Daedalus?"

  "Sire?"

  "The school. For yourself, I mean."

  "Sire, my only son is now enrolled, in the primary division."

  "Yes, of course—Icarus." Minos frowned, trying to remember. "How old is the lad now?"

  "He's ten, Your Majesty."

  "Is he, by the gods? How time flies by. My own daughters are well-nigh grown up—yes, I recall now! You yourself were enrolled as a student when the school began—but then for some reason you very quickly dropped out."

  I hesitated. "That is so, sire."

  "I suppose you were too busy—what word is there from Athens of King Aegeus, by the way?"

  "Prince Theseus reports his esteemed father in excellent health."

  "Good." Minos heaved a great sigh, and frowned. "Daedalus, as gratifying as it is to have the crown prince of Athens here as a student, there are potential problems that we must consider. It would not do for the son of King Aegeus to go home with his brains addled, any more than they are already. We must admit that has happened a few times to other students of the Bull."

  "I could not agree more, Majesty."

  "Good. Daedalus, I myself have many claims on my attention, particularly in foreign affairs."

  "I can appreciate that, sire."

  "Good… so I am unable to take charge personally… most especially, it would not do for the son of Aegeus to be driven to such madness in the school that he leaps from a tower and dashes out his brains, like this young man we're burying today, Fortunately only a very few students have been so strongly affected. So far no one of any real importance."

  "Yes sire, fortunately. And I strongly doubt that the prince would ever be moved to dash out his own brains. But no more, I suppose, would it be desirable for him to fail at an assigned task, even if the task is nothing more glorious than obtaining a certificate of achievement from a school."

  "Your words are rich with wisdom, counselor." Minos paused, and suddenly looked at me as if he were measuring me. "You're always in and about the school a good deal. Why did you drop out, Daedalus? Why are you not currently enrolled?"

  "As you said yourself, sire, I was too busy with other affairs. I still am."

  The king shook his head doubtfully. "But I know you, Daedalus. If it were something you really wanted to do, you'd find a way, you'd make the time. No, I have the feeling that even if you were not at all busy with your other work, you'd still hesitate to go to that school, despite your well-known thirst for knowledge."

  I drew a deep breath. "Yes, King Minos, I would hesitate."

  "Why? Afraid of having your brains addled? That risk would seem to be small."

  I hesitated with my answer, while Minos, as was usually his way, waited patiently. It was not that I feared to speak to the king in this matter, but that I was unsure what the real answer was.

  "It may be," I said to the king at last, "only the rivalry between two scholars, the Bull and myself. Two teachers, who see the world so differently. It may be that I hesitate to submit myself to my rival in anything at all."

  "Or might it be that the wound of Kalliste's death is not yet healed? And that you blame the physicians trained by the Bull?" Sometimes Minos could be surprisingly sensitive to what was going on in the souls of lesser mortals.

  I thought about it and shook my head. "That would not stop me from trying to learn, sire. I know those same physicians have healed others, whom everyone expected to perish. The gods know women die every day in childbirth, as the Bull says. And she was never promised safety in his school of medicine."

  "Then what is your objection to being a student?"

  "I don't know, sire. A feeling."

  The king grunted. "Yes. Well." Then to my relief he let that line of questioning drop. "Whatever your personal feelings about the school, Theseus is the problem at the moment. Our problem, I repeat, yours as well as mine. We both know the prince, and we both know what the school is like—you even better than I, I suppose. I could have Phaedra try to keep an eye on him, I suppose—didn't you know? She'll be enrolling this semester too; I thought she'd be first of any royal house to do so."

  Ariadne, who stood next in line to inherit the throne, was presumably too busy with other kinds of training. The king went on: "Not that Phaedra has her sister's brains, but a dose of this 'education' may do her some good. People do learn things in the school, you know. And of course she'll be living at home, so we can disenroll her quickly if it looks like anything is going to drive her to distraction—though in her case it might not be that easy to tell—"

  Minos drew a deep breath and forced himself back to the point. "The prince is still as stalwart and handsome as ever, I suppose?"

  "More so, Your Majesty. He was no more than fifteen, I suppose, when last I saw him on the mainland."

  "Well, I have seen him since then. And no doubt my younger daughter will have her eye on him in any case."

  Thinking aloud again, with his arms folded across his chest and a frown on his royal face, Minos came closer to me, until an observer unacquainted with either of us might have thought that the monarch was threatening his chief engineer.

  The king went on: "I had no thought that Aegeus was about to send his own son. But I suppose he didn't like the idea of his nobles' children displaying any honors, even these new academic things, that could not be matched in his own house. And Theseus. Oh, if he'd been a scholarly boy, given to hanging aroun
d with graybeard sages, then I wouldn't be surprised. I might even have issued a specific invitation. But, in fact, given the prince's nature…"

  Minos unfolded his arms, but kept his eyes fixed firmly on his waiting subject. "Daedalus, you are a friend of Theseus, from your long sojourn at the Athenian court. I take it your little difficulty there, that forced you to leave, has not made too much difference in the relationship between you and the prince? Good. And also you have first-hand experience of the school. On top of that you are a man of considerable practical sense. Therefore I now expect you to do two things."

  I bowed.

  "First, you are to stand ready to offer Prince Theseus your services as a tutor, as they may be required."

  "Of course, sire."

  "Secondly, I want you to go and see the Bull, today, and try to talk to him. My authority as king does not extend to him—do you see that?"

  I bowed again, thinking that the king must certainly believe the Bull-man to be a god. As for myself, I still did not know what I saw, or what to think.

  "Sometimes, Daedalus, I can persuade the Bull to do things and sometimes I cannot. I hope that you can influence him to see—reason. I suspect he may care more for his academic standards than for any problems in diplomacy that those standards might pose me if they were too rigidly enforced."

  "I understand, sire." I thought I did, in part at least. "I will of course go and talk to the White Bull if you wish it. But it seems to me that I may not be the best person to send on such a mission."

  "Oh? Then who would you nominate for the job?"

  I was silent.

  "There, you see? You, my friend, have talked to the Bull more than anyone else whom I can trust, even though the two of you are in some sense rivals. Despite that rivalry I can see that there's also a mutual respect between you. So do what you can toward explaining the diplomatic situation to him, and report back to me when you have done so."

  I bowed. I hoped there was respect between the Bull and me.

  Clouds had gathered, and a thunderstorm was threatening, as I made my way toward the Labyrinth, in which the Bull's living quarters were deeply embedded—still near the center, in fact, for the surrounding growth had been approximately symmetrical. Detouring slightly, I chose a path that would let me peer into the windows of the elementary school. This school, like most other governmental departments, occupied its own corner of the vast, sprawling House. Finding the window I wanted, I stopped just outside, shading my eyes that I might be able to see into the relative gloom of the interior.

  There perched Icarus, his wiry sunburnt legs entangled with the plain wooden sticks of a three-legged stool, surrounded by a gaggle of other boys and girls similarly mounted. My son was holding a stylus, rather awkwardly, in his right hand, and his dark head was bent over the table in front of him, where lay several wax tablets more or less covered with symbols. The teacher of this class, an earnest young Cretan woman, was pacing among her pupils most of whom were chanting grammar. I recognized the teacher as one of the most recent graduates of the upper school, the one to which Theseus was now bound. As far as I was able to tell by observing her through the window now, the experience of higher education had not driven her mad. On the other hand, it did not seem to have conferred upon her any visible benefit. She did not appear to be doing anything more to her pupils, or for them, than other schoolmasters had done with theirs since time immemorial.

  At least Icarus, as far as his vigilant father could tell, was not taking any harm from her treatment. And the boy had, I thought, recovered as well as could be expected from his mother's death four years ago.

  With a last lingering glance at my son, I started to walk away from the window, then delayed for another moment. In my mind's eye arose a vision of a newly-graduated Theseus four years hence, a caged lion pacing about in this classroom, trying to teach these children grammar. That was hardly any madder a vision, I supposed, than one of the prince sitting down to study. After yet one more look at my fidgeting son—Icarus was bright enough, but didn't seem to want to apply himself to any sort of learning yet—I walked on.

  Now, passing along one outer flank of the vast House, this particular surface a rock wall of many turns and angles, I glanced in the direction of a field of rock-hewn tombs nearby. In that direction I could see a small procession returning across the bridge that spanned the ravine between House and cemetery. They would be coming back to the House for the funeral games, the acrobatic bull-dancing with half-tamed animals that had so lately become popular, and the wrestling that should please the gods.

  When my way led me past the small arena where the games were about to be held, I paused in a cloistered walk for a few moments to observe. While standing there I pondered briefly the fact that Minos himself had not taken time out to attend today's funeral, nor, apparently, was he going to attend the games. There was Queen Pasiphaë, though, occupying the seat of honor in the king's absence. Pasiphaë, as usual these days, had rouged and wigged herself in an ever more serious attempt to deny her age. Her tight girdle was new, painstakingly designed�though not by me—artfully braced so that it thrust up her full bare breasts in a passable imitation of youth. And now, here came the fair Princess Ariadne, looking cool and serene as usual, mounting the royal bench, taking the position of Master of the Games, as befitted her status of eldest surviving child. And here was Phaedra—how old was she now? Fourteen?�darker and fuller-bosomed than her sister, and quite the prettiest girl in sight.

  I had thought that by now Theseus would probably be sleeping off the debauch of his matriculation-mourning, but evidently the powers of recuperation in the Athenian royal family were even stronger than I remembered. The prince, his body cleansed by what must have been a complete bath and a thorough scraping, was just now vaulting into the ring for a wrestling turn. Theseus was stripped stark naked for the contest, except for a modest and genuine official band of mourning black round one of his massive biceps. He made an impressive figure indeed. I lingered just long enough to watch him earn a quick victory over his squat, powerful adversary, some Cretan champion, and then claim a wreath from Ariadne's hand.

  It would not be wise to delay my distasteful duty any longer. I walked on.

  On this side of the House, particularly, no sharp line of architectural demarcation showed where the business rooms and living quarters of the palace ended and the subtle Labyrinth itself began. But I, the architect and builder, knew that I had already entered the first phase, the outer fringe, of the great maze.

  The Bull had wanted his Labyrinth to blend with subtle borders into its environment, and I had met his requirements with a success in which I still took pride. A pointless passageway here, a blind room there. One stair went up, and another down, to nowhere. At the moment a man walking where I was had only columns around him, with an occasional entablature above. Now I stepped beneath a roof, and was firmly indoors, though the uninitiated person walking in my place might not yet have fully realized the fact. In ten more paces there were only a few windows to let me see the land outside, and in twenty more paces the last of these apertures was gone, taking with it my last view of the open sea and the mountains.

  Now, for a little while as I proceeded, the roof of the Labyrinth was almost solid, cutting out the sky. Then roofed space once more became less common, and the light increased. At the same time the walls grew unscalably high and smooth, and the many branching passages, which had now entirely replaced rooms, grew narrower. There were steps and stairs to take the explorer up and down again, for no apparent reason. Soon the stranger walking here would no longer have a clue as to whether he was above or below the natural level of the ground. Only remote patches of sky, one of them now blue, one heavy gray with thundercloud, remained to give the explorer any light or perspective or mental hold upon the outside world.

  And now I, the designer threading my way unerringly and thoughtlessly, had entered upon the precincts of the real school where I was an outsider, the school that Thes
eus was fated to attend. Now once more the traveler was surrounded by rooms. Behind closed wooden doors, taut silence reigned. And now, only now, did I pass underneath a sign warning in three languages that the real Labyrinth, the dangerous core of deceit and confusion, lay just ahead.

  Scarcely had I proceeded fifty paces beyond the sign, turning in that distance half a dozen corners at different angles, before I was made aware by certain faint sounds that someone had now begun to follow me. A sudden stop and a quick glance back earned me one brief glimpse of long brown hair swinging from a girl's quick head, before she had dodged back around a corner, out of my sight.

  I waited for a few moments, but the girl did not reappear. Everything in this corner of the Labyrinth was silent, except for the singing of some very distant workmen. The students of the school were immured in their silent rooms like bees in cells of wax.

  There was no further sign of the girl. Presently I turned and went on my way again, at which point the furtive shuffle of those following feet resumed.

  With a sigh, I stopped and turned again. Seeing no one behind me, I called softly. "Just stay where you are, and I promise I won't hurt you." Then I walked back and peered around a corner.

  As I had expected, my follower was a student. A slender Athenian girl of about eighteen was leaning against the smooth stone wall, looking exhausted and defensive. I wondered how long she had been lost. Vaguely I thought that I could recall seeing this girl, at some time during the past year or two, among the score or so of the Bull's most advanced students.

  I was not eager to interfere in what was doubtless some assignment of school work for advanced credit. But at the same time it seemed cruel and unsympathetic to walk away from her without speaking. "Follow me, if you like," I suggested. "Then you will come out in the apartments of the Bull himself. Is that what you are trying to do?"

  The girl responded, weakly but quickly, with a gesture of denial.

  Still I was unable to let matters go at that. "Can I help you in any other way?"