Dark of the Moon

THESEUS

chapter 38

I NEVER REALLY believed that Ariadne would choose me. Athens is subject to Krete, so she wouldn't have anything to gain politically by marrying me, even if my father were to recognize me as his heir. This appears doubtful as long as Medea's son is alive. Prokris insists that the choice has nothing to do with politics, though, and that Ariadne's mother chose a simple blacksmith last year.

In any case, at first I'm not really sure that she has chosen me. She looks odd—pale, and with staring eyes—when she comes out to stand on the top step of the palace portico for the second time. She's followed by the Minos. He no longer wears the mask, but the bull's hide is still draped over his red robes.

The two stand there until I wonder if Ariadne's arms, stretched in front of her for so long, are tired. She's clutching something, but I can't see what. She hardly moves; maybe a little back and forth of her head, but that could be fatigue. I hear that she hasn't eaten for three days, and the smell of the lambs and kids simmering in their pots of milk and the roasting pig's and bull's meat are enough to drive my stomach to rumbling like a volcano.

She stands there for a long, long time. Nobody seems surprised, although they do appear tense. A muscle works in the jaw of the woman next to me, who occasionally dips her spoon into the pot at her side to stir its savory contents. In fact, the only motions I see are those necessary for cooking.

Even the babies are quiet. The little children have stopped their games and their noise and have joined their elders in staring at the small figure of Ariadne, who wears a huge skirt and not much else and is perched on the top step as though she's about to take wing.

Her head has stopped moving. I turn to see what she's staring at, and just as I realize it's me, she takes one tottering step forward, then a step down, and another step, and another, and then she's making her way through the crowd, coming as directly to me as an arrow. Her arms stick out in front of her, and now I see that she is clutching two writhing snakes. From the whiteness of her knuckles, she must be holding them so tightly that the squirms are their death throes.

The Minos is close at Ariadne's heels. She doesn't seem to notice him but walks steadily until she's standing in front of me, looking up with eyes so black that I see tiny copies of myself reflected in them. She stands without moving for so long that I wonder if I should do something. I'm about to stammer a greeting when she hands the limp snakes to the Minos, who in turn passes them to one of his acolytes.

The woman next to me puts down her spoon and hands her baby to someone. She comes to stand near Ariadne. The old woman named Damia hobbles up, leaning on the shoulder of a little boy, who winces as she digs her claws into him. Damia takes her place in front of the woman who had been holding the spoon. A girl who looks very much like Ariadne joins them, and then another old woman, and a comfortable-looking chubby matron with streaks of gray in her hair, and more and more until, soon, a dozen women and girls are ranged behind Ariadne in two lines, with the oldest at their heads.

Damia unties a sash that is knotted behind Ariadne's head. Ariadne takes it without looking away from my face. She reaches forward and wraps it around my waist, retaining hold of both ends so that we are brought face to face. One of her arms is puffy and red. "Welcome back, my lord," she says. I stammer something about being glad to be there, like a polite child at a party.

The Minos turns to the crowd and shouts, "Velchanos recognizes his bride!" and they all erupt into cheers. It seems like something dead has leaped to its feet in front of my eyes. The very air seems alive as men embrace, children squeal and jump up and down, and women turn to each other with shining faces to exclaim their joy.

In the middle of this whirling chaos, Ariadne and I stand with our eyes fixed on each other. This is what Prokris has planned; this is what we've worked for. This is why I kissed Ariadne—although, I must admit, that part of Prokris's plan was not unpleasant. But I know that I have deceived the girl, and I'm desperately uncomfortable as she gazes at me with her bright eyes.

The Minos is carrying the huge bronze bull's head. Before I'm aware what he's about, he lifts it with an effort and places it on my shoulders. I'm not prepared for its weight or for the way its edges, padded though they are, press into my flesh. But I understand that this must be an important moment, and I stand as tall as I can. I wish I could see more than the tiny field of vision afforded to me through the small holes in the bull's neck, because the noise is deafening. If the crowd was wild before, it is twice as enthusiastic now. Conch shells blast, women shriek, and men bellow.

Adding to my discomfort is that I don't know what to do next. The Minos holds out his hands to us. Ariadne takes one and motions at me to take the other. I comply, and the priest leads us to a long table. Finally, blessedly, he removes the bull's head from my shoulders and motions to us to take our places.

I start to whisper a question, but Ariadne shakes her head as the two lines of women, who have followed us, fill in the benches, six on her right, six on my left. Across from us, the eleven remaining bull baiters sit down too. A twelfth boy, looking both terrified and proud, joins them, evidently to replace Glaukos. I wonder what happened to that small body.

The twenty-six of us sitting at the high table are motionless as all around, people snatch flat slabs of hot bread and pile them high with meats of all descriptions. They drink deeply from the leather flasks that are passed from hand to hand, emptied, refilled, and passed again. Mothers dip their fingers into the grease puddled on the wooden carving boards and stick them in the mouths of the babies on their hips, who suck eagerly.

The Minos stands behind Ariadne as serving men bring out large platters of roasted meat. At the smell of beef, my stomach whines. No wonder the butchers cut the bull into such small pieces—it had to cook quickly to be ready for this feast. The platters and a large bronze pitcher are placed in front of me. Everyone looks at me expectantly. I glance at the Minos.

"Tell them to eat," he prompts.

"Eat the body of your god," I say, hoping that my words are close to what the ritual demands. They must be, because everyone reaches in and takes a handful.

"Now pour for them," the Minos says. The pitcher is heavy, but with so many cups to fill, its load lightens quickly. The meat is rich, but strong in taste and tough, coming from a bull and not a steer. I take a swallow of wine to wash it down. The drink has a metallic taste that I don't think is due to the pitcher. I look up at the Minos with a question in my eyes.

"It is mixed with the blood of Velchanos."

Strange people, I think, to mix their wine with bull's blood and not with water, but although the flavor is odd, it's not strong enough to be unpleasant, and I continue eating and drinking. Soon, I hope, I will undergo my ceremonial bloodletting, the feast will break up, and I can get out from in front of all these eyes. I can't read their expressions. Most people seem happy, but some look at me with what appears to be pity, and I squirm inwardly as I remember the evil-looking instruments that had been used to torment and then kill the bull. Whatever they use on me will certainly be less painful. I'm sure they wouldn't dare to hurt their god, even a temporary one, too badly. Still, I think of the whipping that I've heard sometimes accompanies these rituals, and I wish that Prokris had managed to learn more about it.

The crowd has quieted a great deal. Little girls dance to a flute, and children sprawl all over in sleep, as do many adults. A drunken brawl breaks out, and people part the antagonists.

I notice the Minos looking at Ariadne with concern. I have drunk a fair amount of wine but not enough to dull my senses, and I'm startled by her expression. She winces as she looks down at her arm, seeming surprised at the red streaks on it, and then she huddles her shoulders to bring the two edges of her bodice together over her breasts.

I ask, "Are you cold?" She shakes her head and drops her gaze, but not before I see her lip quivering.

I stand to tell the Minos that she is not well, but he has seen it too. "Don't worry." He helps her to her feet. "It's wearing off. I'd hoped it would last another hour..." He lets his voice trail off as he supports Ariadne and helps her step out from behind the table. They have taken a few paces when the Minos turns around and calls over his shoulder, "Why aren't you coming?" I stumble around my own chair as each face at the table stares at me, and now everyone in the large field is looking in our direction. A man snickers. Someone shushes him with an angry whisper.

"You want me to go with her?" I ask as I hurry to catch up with them. Ariadne is hunched over, cradling her sore arm, her long skirt dragging.

The Minos looks surprised. "Of course. Where else would you go on your wedding night?"

"I'm so sorry," Ariadne says as tears slide down her pale cheeks. Her eyes are red, either from weeping or from the drug her uncle has given her, or both. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

We're in the middle of a huge bedchamber. I put an arm around her shoulders in an attempt to help her stop trembling, taking care not to crush her elaborate bodice. She feels like a bird, with a fluttering heart and tiny bones. She trembles, and I wonder if she's cold or frightened. Someone brings a pad of cloth that has been soaked in sweet-smelling herbs, and I hold it on the angry red streaks on her forearm and kiss the top of her head. What a strange girl, to apologize for making me a god!

"Don't be sorry," I say. "I'm honored. I never thought that you would choose me, a foreigner." I fight back the guilt; it's hard to continue to deceive this trusting little thing with the huge dark eyes that glitter with tears.

I lead my little bride to the ornate and ancient-looking bed, only the second I have ever seen that was raised off the ground, and ease her down onto it. Artemis stays so close to me that I tread on her paw, but she doesn't whine. I sit next to Ariadne, keeping one arm around her shoulders. She whispers something that I can't make out. I bend in closer. "What was that?"

"You are very noble." She leans her head against my chest.

The guilt becomes even more painful. "Perhaps not as noble as you think."

"Oh yes. To give your life for the Kretan people, when you are an outsider, that is a noble thing."

I try to laugh, but my throat has closed. "I don't plan to give my life for anybody."

She pulls back and stares at me. "But that's what you're here for. That's why there's a Chosen One at the Planting Festival. He has to die for the people."

It's like she's speaking a foreign language, one where I understand only one word in three. "What do you mean, 'Die for the people'?" It must be some way of talking that they have here, some ritual where the king's bloodletting is seen as a kind of death.

Ariadne looks down. "The Minos will open the pathway of your blood. Your blood will go on the fields, and the harvest will be good."

"How much of my blood?"

"All of it." Her voice is so low, I can barely hear it, but the words are all too clear.

I'm shaking. I remove my arm from around her shoulders. "You people aren't barbarians. You don't do things like that. You even allowed that monster to live, who would have been exposed at birth anywhere else." The look on her face increases my agitation, and I leap to my feet, preparing to flee.

"Please," she begs. "Please sit down."

"Are you talking about the bloodletting ceremony? Does someone..." I'm too horror struck to go on. Rage heats me. Prokris couldn't have known this; my death would ruin all her plans. She should have learned more about Kretan customs. How dare she be so careless with my life?

"And you ch-chose m-me for this?" Outrage makes me sputter.

"I didn't choose you. Velchanos did. He took your body. He is in you. I saw it—I saw him when you were standing in the crowd. I couldn't choose another. It would have been a great sacrilege. It would have been the second time, and this time would have meant the death of my people." Her tears have dried, and her face is more composed.

I don't know what she means by "the second time," and I don't care. All I know is that I have to get out of here. I don't know where I'll go, but surely there is someone on this island with some sense. I'm strong, and now I have experience on a boat and can work my passage—not to Athens, but to another land where women don't control things and where the king isn't slaughtered by his barbarian subjects.

Ariadne is silent as I run to the door and fling it open only to see two large guards blocking it, with spears crossed over the opening. Artemis growls.

"You require something, my lord?" one of the men asks. I can't see his eyes through the slits in his boar-tusk helmet, but I hear his amusement. I can tell he knows that what I require is escape.

"Wine" is all I can think to say. I close the door and retrace my steps.