Lost in the Labyrinth (8 page)

"The Lady loves her people, the Keftiu, but she also loves the Bull. These two loves do not always harmonize with each other. The Bull is as large as a mountain, and his breath is a roaring flame hot enough to melt stone. If he were allowed his freedom he would surely kill each and every one of the Keftiu. The Lady therefore keeps the Bull pent up within the earth, where he cannot destroy her people.

"Often the Lady goes to visit her lord deep in the bowels of the earth. This is why the people of Kefti seek to honor their Lady by placing offerings inside any of the thousands of sacred caves that thread their blind paths through the roots of our island. We likewise wish to show reverence to the Bull in the Earth. We love him for his beauty and power and we also fear him, even shut away as he is. For when the Lady does not visit her lord for a time, he becomes restive. He turns in the darkness and tosses his horns, and the ground above him quakes and buckles. Buildings crumple and fall, and the fire of the Bull's breath sweeps through the ruins. Many of our people die when the Bull is angry.

"When your grandmother was a girl," said Graia, "the Bull in the Earth grew so furious that much of the Palace of Knossos was leveled. Hundreds died in the wreckage of the Labyrinth, and thousands died in the countryside around, and in the towns and palaces of Malia, Zakros, Festos, and Kydonia. The palaces are rebuilt now, grander and larger than before, but we do not forget."

She explained that since there is little we can do to urge the Lady Potnia to visit her lord if she does not choose it, we perform many ceremonies to appease and entertain the Bull in the Earth, hoping to keep him quiet and amused in the event that his lady should be absent longer than his liking. He is a fierce creature, and his pleasures are likewise fierce. So, several times a year, bulls are sacrificed in his honor amid much ceremony. And once a year, in the early summer, there is the Festival of the Bulls.

My brother Asterius is the son of the Bull in the Earth. They say that my mother, in her grief over the death of Androgeus, begged the Goddess to help her get revenge against Minos for leaving her son to die in a strange land.

She Who Made All Things would not lightly refuse such a request from her high priestess. The Lady therefore entered into my mother's body and took possession of it. As one they descended into the Underworld, where the Bull dwells. And in due course my brother was born, half man and half bull.

That is why my brother appears before the people once a year at the Festival of the Bulls.

The Bull Festival would be very different from yesterday's brief, sad rite of the Presentation. It was a happy occasion and one of my favorite festivals; I looked forward to it the whole year. Nor was I alone in this: all over Kefti young women and men had been preparing their entire lives for the festival, when they would face the bull before the entire court of Knossos.

The bull dance is glorious. However often I see it, it makes me want to weep for sheer pleasure. It is everything in life that is beautiful and brave.

When Icarus and the Athenians hailed me the day before as "Bull Rider," they were being kind. I had performed only the simplest of the feats to be displayed here—that of riding the bull without injury—and I had done so without grace or style. The great bull dancers and those who admire them would have thought little of such an exhibition.

What a crush of people filled the Bull Court! I sat with my family—except Ariadne, who was preparing to perform the Dance of the Serpents for the opening ceremonies—on a balcony off our living quarters. Servants moved silently about, offering barley water and wine, grape leaves stuffed with spiced meats, delicate pastries, and platters of fruit.

The array of balconies around the court were crammed to overflowing. Here and there I could see a familiar face—those places were reserved for people of wealth and influence. Up on the roofs and lining the walls of the actual Bull Court were the common people. They would stand in the grilling sun without food or water for hours today Some would faint from heat and thirst and be carried away, allowing others to push forward and take their places. Those in the Bull Court itself were in some danger; the bull occasionally charged the audience. Yet in spite of all this there were always more than could be accommodated. Tomorrow those lucky enough to be present would go home to their villages basking in reflected glory.

In contrast to yesterday, the throng was a blaze of color and fanciful design. Some of the costumes worn were like old friends—I had seen them year after year—but others were new to me, made especially for this occasion. I scanned the crowd, seeking out past favorites and new creations. I laughed to see a man dressed in gray with the mask of a hippopotamus, and then admired a woman with a headdress fashioned like a grove of trees with little silver birds swinging from the limbs. The men wore their most richly embroidered kilts and robes of many hues today, and any woman who could afford a ceremonial dress had it on.

I was dressed in ceremonial attire myself for almost the first time. These dresses were different from ordinary clothing in that the bodice was cut down low to the waist to expose the breasts. I had only just made blood sacrifice to celebrate the commencement of my monthly bleeding during the last rainy season, so I was still uncomfortable in women's dress before this great crowd. My breasts were small and pointed, like the teats of a nanny goat. Graia said that they would grow, but that was meager comfort today, feeling that everyone's eyes were upon me.

The seer Polyidus had been given a seat with my family, I noticed. Neither he nor Glaucus had been improved by their brush with the mysteries of death. Polyidus sat there grinning and bowing and nodding his head at everything that was said, while my little brother capered about, boasting wildly before the servants.

"Stop, Glaucus," I said, annoyed, as he lurched against me in one of his rough games and nearly tore my dress. "Sit down and be quiet." The monkey Queta—who sat on my lap, securely diapered to prevent her from soiling my clothes—fluffed up her fur and screamed at him.

Mother drew Glaucus to her. "Darling," she said, stroking his hair.

The musicians began to play, and slowly the buzzing, rumbling crowd quieted, waiting.

Ariadne entered first. This was the first Festival of the Bulls without Acalle, and therefore Ariadne's first appearance in her place. She and I had rehearsed and rehearsed her entrance, yet even knowing what to expect I gave a cry of pleasure at the picture she made. From all around me came a roar of delight.

She was masked and gowned to represent the Goddess and mounted on a chariot drawn by a pair of cheetahs. The chariot was so fashioned that golden wings appeared to be sprouting from the back of each of the big cats. The effect was to make them look like the griffins that attend the Goddess and draw her conveyances.

The cheetahs were uneasy. I watched anxiously fearing that they would bolt. Cheetahs can run fast, faster than any horse. They did not flee but sat down and clawed at the straps binding them to the chariot. I bit my lip and longed to take charge of the chariot myself.

Ariadne, however, had everything under control. She bowed to her mother and to the giant sacral horns at one end of the Bull Court, which represented the Bull in the Earth. Then she turned her attention to the cheetahs. She was firm, wielding her little gilded whip to good effect on their backsides. The procession advanced.

Behind Ariadne and the cheetahs came Lycia of the Queen's Menagerie, keeping a sharp eye on the cheetahs. Then came my brother Asterius, attended by his servants. The gaily colored ribbons tied round his arms and waist and tail were stained with sweat. The crowd cheered loudly on seeing him, and his eyeballs rolled wildly in their sockets. Nervous, he pranced sideways, butting into his attendants. I looked away, not wishing to witness his suffering.

After him came a group of priestesses wearing over their heads and shoulders masks of many animals: a vulture, a fish, a cow. Behind them were the bull riders and bull dancers, liberally decked with flowers, and finally, the tumblers, jugglers, and clowns who would entertain between events. These last did not walk but rather cartwheeled and somersaulted their way around the bull ring, their trained monkeys, pigs, and dogs cavorting merrily among them.

Queta, who had been clucking with alarm over the cheetahs, now uttered a loud
Hoo! Hoo!
on seeing bosom friends and hated enemies from the menagerie in the throng at the tail of the procession. I slipped a cherry into her mouth and she hushed.

When the parade had completed a full circuit of the arena, Ariadne reined in her cheetahs, who promptly lay down and showed signs of wanting to roll in the dust. Ariadne dismounted, and Lycia came forward and led the cheetahs and chariot away, followed by the rest of the participants. I sighed with relief.

Two of the priestesses entered the ring and approached Ariadne, carrying the sacred serpents.

At that moment my mother stood up.

"My people," she said aloud.

As if she had twitched a magic thread, three thousand heads turned to look at her. The audience hastily surged to its feet.

"My people," she said, "it is many years since I have danced the Dance of the Serpents. I will do so again today."

A startled silence ensued, then whispers washed back and forth across the whole expanse of the courtyard like waves in a pond. There came a cry, "Hail, O Blessed Queen!" The crowd took it up and shouted in unison, smiting their foreheads with the knuckles of their right hands in salute.

The queen bent down and kissed Glaucus before descending to the arena. "My son," she murmured, and caressed his cheek.

I understood. She wished to perform the dance to give thanks to the Goddess and to the serpent who had saved her son. But would Ariadne understand? Or would she take it as an insult?

Glaucus flung himself into a seat behind me and began steadily kicking at the legs of my chair. I closed my eyes and tried to feel gratitude for his preservation. When I opened them again I saw Ariadne standing motionless, her face as wooden as the mask she held in her hands.

The priestesses made humble obeisance to their queen. The two carrying the basket with the snakes began to move away from Ariadne and toward our mother, but Ariadne put out her hand to stay them. The crowd fell silent, sensing drama.

Oh, Ariadne, do not do so,
I murmured to myself.

After a long dragging moment, while my mother and sister stared at each other, Ariadne withdrew her hand. We sat motionless, watching. Slowly she bowed to the queen, handed her the mask, and then turned abruptly and walked out of the arena. The priestesses gently twined the snakes about my mother's arms and waist and throat and then, taking up their torches, positioned themselves for the dance.

For me, the Dance of the Serpents passed in a haze; I was waiting for Ariadne. As time went by and she did not appear, I became frightened. She must be seen as a dutiful daughter or our mother would be forced to take action against her.

I had determined to go and look for her when suddenly she appeared. To my surprise, she did not look angry but, rather, bemused, as if something unexpected and pleasing had occurred. Her breasts, so much rounder and more womanly than mine, rose and fell rapidly with the stirring of some emotion. Her eyes glittered and her whole body was tense with excitement.

As my mother and the priestesses prepared to leave the court to the bull dancers, someone darted out from the crowd and intercepted them. He bowed deeply and spoke to her. It was Daedalus, Icarus's father.

My mother stiffened. She stood motionless, listening to Daedalus. She seemed to protest, then nodded curtly and strode out of the arena. When she sat down again with the family, I saw that she was now furious. Two little spots of color had appeared high on her cheekbones.

I looked at Ariadne and then back again at my mother, but the moment of disobedience seemed forgotten by both mother and daughter. Apparently they both had other matters to busy their minds.

Once again I found it difficult to concentrate on the events enacted before me. The bull riders came and went. I stared at their brilliantly colored costumes and antic clowning without seeing. Dimly I noticed when a young bull crashed through the ring of spectators and tried to leap the barrier into the audience, but my thoughts kept returning to my mother and my sister. The audience gasped and applauded, but we three sat silent, unmoved and untouched by events in the amphitheater.

But soon the bull riders were done and the most beautiful and most dangerous part of the ritual had begun. A team of bull dancers entered the arena and all thought was banished; I watched with my whole heart and my whole mind. The dancers positioned themselves in front of the chute from which the bull would enter the ring: three to the left, three to the right, and one in the center, farthest from the chute.

The great crowd grew silent, and it seemed possible to hear a muffled heartbeat, as if all of our hearts were beating as one.

The music began. A fresh bull was released into the ring. He lifted his head and sniffed the air. Sensing nothing worse than seven nearly naked women and men arrayed before him, he advanced cautiously.

The bull's little piggy eyes were too shortsighted to see the full extent of the crowd that surrounded him, but he could hear it and smell it. He did not like it. He bellowed deep in his throat, dropped his head, and prepared to impale the dancers on his horns. His tail lashed.

At this signal the dance began. The two dancers closest to the bull ran toward him, towing long red streamers that twirled and fluttered in the breeze. The bull, annoyed, pawed the ground and charged. The paths of the dancers intersected immediately in front of his nose, and the trailing banners lapped his body in scarlet. Bucking and twisting, he pulled free of the linen strips, only to find himself facing the second pair of running dancers, then the third. The bare arms of the last couple nearly brushed his horns, but their streamers wrapped around him and he was too confused to lunge.