Odysseus in the Serpent Maze (15 page)

Helen raised a quizzical eyebrow. “I don’t know that I care to be judged.” Then she smiled at him.

For a brief moment Idomeneus looked uncomfortable. Helen seemed to have that effect on a lot of men. Odysseus turned his face away, determined not to laugh, though it was difficult.

“Well … not you, princess,” Idomeneus said haltingly. “But them.
They
need to be judged.” He pointed at the boys, drew a deep breath, then said with rescued authority, “Come with me.”

They followed him down a passageway, the guards at their heels. On one wall a huge painted bull frowned down on them. Then the passage opened up into a courtyard so vast, it was like the market square of a large city. Musicians strolled by playing lutes and flutes. Servants scurried about with trays of fruit. Men in colourful robes and ladies with painted faces sat on stone benches, chatting.

“Look!” Penelope whispered, and with her chin gestured upward.

Above them were tier upon tier of balconies, from which even more people stared down at them.

Idomeneus led them up a wide stair to a doorway. To one side loomed a statue of a beautiful woman who had snakes twining around her body. Two savage lions lay down at her feet like pet dogs.

Startled by the figure, Helen put a hand to her mouth.

“Don’t fear, princess,” Idomeneus said, moving close to her. “That’s Britomartis, goddess of our island, who protects us from fire and flood.”

“Only some of the time,” Odysseus whispered to Penelope and Mentor. “The rest of the time their houses burn like anyone else’s.”

Then they entered the west wing, where sunlight slanted through windows and the dark corners were lit with lamps.

The floors were colourful mosaics: scenes of dolphins, fish, and bearded Poseidon with his great trident held aloft. Crossing the mosaics, Idomeneus led them into new passageways, which twisted and turned as though designed to baffle visitors.

“How do you find your way through this place?” Mentor mused aloud, but none of the guards answered.

At last they entered an antechamber, and Idomeneus ordered them to be silent.

A man who was clearly a court official stood by the door. He wore a formal white robe that stretched down to his feet, and his left wrist was weighted down by a strand of carved gemstones.

Sealing stones
, Odysseus thought. His father used the same to mark the containers in which their stores were kept, though these looked much more elaborate.

“Prince Idomeneus, your father awaits you,” the robed man said, bowing low.

Odysseus wondered what kind of a man King Deucalion was. Was he, like his father Minos before him, a man of war who sent foreigners to their deaths in the Labyrinth? Or would he treat them fairly? Should Odysseus admit to being a prince himself? Or should he keep that information secret still? He fidgeted, tapping his fingers against his thighs.

“Waiting,” Penelope whispered to him, “is clearly not what you’re good at.”

“Waiting is a woman’s gift,” he whispered back.

Just then the door opened, and they were ushered inside.

The room was small given the size of the rest of the palace, but it was still impressive. The walls had been painted to resemble a forest inhabited by gryphons, with their lion bodies and eagle heads. Two of them stood rampant on either side of the great throne.

And there was Deucalion, almost dwarfed by his long purple robe. A jewelled crown sat on his head, and he held an ivory sceptre in his right hand. His hair and beard were set in elaborate curls. Yet somehow he—like the room—was smaller than Odysseus had expected.

Deucalion leaned towards them, grey eyes as hooded as his son’s. “Step forward,” he said in a voice that was flint-hard. “And give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you.”

M
ENTOR WAS THE FIRST
to reply. Spreading his hands palm upward, he said, “We have committed no crime, my lord, other than being lost and helpless. My father always says that treating strangers badly offends mighty Zeus.”

The king still leaned forward. “Zeus himself spoke to
my
father, boy, and gave him the laws by which our people are governed,” he said. “The right of judgement has been passed down to me. I ask again: Give me one reason why I shouldn’t kill you?”

This time Penelope spoke. “Because a king who is not fair is not wise.”

Deucalion smiled and leaned back on his throne, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll judge you fairly enough, young lady. You are foreigners, which means you’re probably spies. In all likelihood you’ve come here to prepare the way for an attack by your countrymen of …”

“Sparta,” said Idomeneus.

“And Rhodes,” added Odysseus. He’d held back his real name and lineage while assessing the king, thinking perhaps to confess it later. But now that he’d seen and heard the king, he was glad he’d kept quiet. King Deucalion had cruel eyes and a bitter voice.

“All Rhodians are liars,” Deucalion stated. He shook the golden key at Odysseus. “Where did you get this?”

“I found it in the sea cave,” Odysseus replied. “The others—who had gone ahead of me—knew nothing about it. I was keeping it for myself because of the gold.”

“The gold!” Deucalion repeated contemptuously. “This small amount of gold is nothing compared to the treasures it might unlock.” He leaned forward again and shoved the key towards Odysseus. “Can you read the inscription?”

Odysseus shrugged. “In Rhodes only hired scribes read. Real men—warriors and princes—don’t bother.”

“Daedalus’ name is written here,” said the king. “My father’s craftsman. He promised to build my father a ship that needed neither wind nor oarsmen. For years I’ve been seeking that ship and Daedalus’ secret workshop. You swear you know nothing of this?”

“A magical ship?” Odysseus furrowed his brow, which made the vertical line between his eyes look deep as a wound. “You majesty, if we’d found such a ship, would we be
here
?” He looked at his friends, and they all nodded solemnly. “Why not ask this Daedalus?”

Deucalion ground his teeth in anger. “Daedalus fled this island on magical wings. He caused my father’s death. If he still lives, he’s well beyond my wrath.” The king rose from his throne and clenched the key tightly in his right hand. “Do you deny you are cohorts of Praxios, the one who robbed me of my prize?”

“I thought, sir, his name was Daedalus,” Odysseus said. He kept his voice calm, though he could feel a little tic start in the corner of his eye.

The king’s grey eyes were now the colour of stone. “Praxios was his assistant.”

“I swear by all the gods that I don’t know this man,” said Odysseus.

Deucalion turned to the others. “Do you all say the same?”

Mentor swallowed hard and shook his head. “I’ve never met anyone of that name, sire.”

Penelope met the king’s gaze in silence.

Helen turned pale but managed to shake her head.

Odysseus knelt. “Great king,” he cried, “my companions’ only offence is that they’ve been led by me. Keep the key by all means. Save any punishment for me alone.”

“I would not be so ungenerous,” said Deucalion. He signalled to the guards. “Take them all.”

Idomeneus stepped quickly to Helen’s side, and held up his hand, protecting her. “Father, please …”

Deucalion turned his stony eyes upon Helen. “Are you truly a princess of Sparta, as my son believes?”

Helen flushed and sniffed indignantly. “I’m the daughter of King Tyndareus. At this moment there are a thousand ships—”

Deucalion cut her off with a slicing hand gesture. He met his son’s gaze. “Let her be taken to suitable apartments. We’ll entertain her as a princess—for now.”

Struggling against the soldiers’ grip, Penelope cried out, “My lady cannot be expected to do without her faithful handmaiden.”

Helen pulled herself from Idomeneus’ hands. “I refuse to budge without my Penelope. She’s both my handmaid and my cousin.”

“Father …” Idomeneus appealed again.

There was a long moment of silence. Then Deucalion snorted through his nose like an irritated bull.

“Very well. But the other two go to the dungeon with Praxios.”

Dragged roughly through yet another maze of passages, Odysseus and Mentor didn’t even try to struggle free. But once they were pushed into the gloomy prison cell on the outskirts of the palace, Mentor turned on his friend.

“
Why
, Odysseus? Why say we’re from Rhodes when the truth might have saved us?”

“And have my father pay tribute to that monster? I’d rather die,” Odysseus retorted.

“You don’t mean that,” Mentor said.

“Oh yes, I do.”

“We’re
all
going to die here,” came a sepulchral voice from a corner of the cell.

The boys turned. A wan shaft of light was poking through a grille in the ceiling, and by it they could just make out a filthy figure, long and lanky, like a wading bird. His head was shaved as bald as an egg, and his bright, beady eyes stared out at them from under bushy brows. A long grey beard, full of little pieces of yellow straw, came to a point in the middle of his chest.

“You must be Praxios,” said Odysseus.

The man’s eyebrows shot up like a pair of birds taking flight. “So my fame has travelled before me.”

“The king mentioned you,” said Mentor.

“Ah, the king.” The bird-brows came to rest again.

“He doesn’t seem to like you,” Odysseus said.

“Well, as you’re here too, I suspect he doesn’t like you either,” said Praxios. “Whoever you are.”

“I’m Mentor,” Mentor said. “And this is Odysseus, prince of—”

“Shut up!” Odysseus said with a growl.

“What does it matter here?” Mentor asked. “No point lying to him. He’s a prisoner just like us.”

“He could sell us to the king,” said Odysseus.

“I could have sold out my master to the king long before this,” said Praxios. “For a better cause.” He stretched out his long, bony fingers. “That beast in human form threatened to crush my hands beneath a rock if I didn’t tell him what he wanted to know: the secrets of my master, Daedalus.”

Odysseus smiled. “You mean the workshop and the bronze dog and the hidden harbour?”

Praxios looked up sharply. “You’ve been there?”

“We ran into Prince Idomeneus nearby,” Mentor said.

“Did he find his way in?” Praxios suddenly started shaking.

“No,” Odysseus said, “the workshop was already buried under a mountain of rock.”

Praxios gasped. “My master’s final defence. I never had the nerve to use it myself.”

Mentor said quickly, “It was set off by accident.”

“And the ship?” Praxios was still shaking.

“Destroyed too,” Odysseus said. “By accident.” There was a sharpness in his tone that made Mentor glance over at him.

“But I sent it far away,” the old man said. “I’d heard from a friend that Deucalion’s men were closing in on me. So I loaded the ship with supplies. I packed away the key and had just started the mechanism when they found me. One man climbed on board and grabbed me as the ship moved away. We grappled and fell overboard, and the ship made off without me.”

“We found the ship drifting at sea,” Odysseus said. “Once we got aboard, I pulled the rod by accident, and the ship came to life. It carried us to Crete.”

Praxios gave a dry laugh. “What a lot of accidents you boys seem to have!”

“No more than you, sir, to be toppled off your ship,” said Mentor pleasantly.

“Ah—but you two started the self-winding mechanism that reversed the ship’s course and brought it back to its starting point. Your accidents are happier than mine.” Praxios nodded his head.

“Not so happy. They landed us in the same place as you,” Odysseus pointed out.

For a moment they were all three silent, contemplating the dungeon.

At last Odysseus said, “Do you know how the ship works?”

“Not I. I’m a simple artisan. Only Daedalus could craft such a complex device. All I did was take care of it and the workshop in case my master should ever return to Crete. I considered that my life’s duty, to keep the ship and workshop hidden from Minos’ beastly son.” Praxios stood and stretched. “Old bones. Can’t lie around all day, like a vegetable in a field. Not even in a dungeon.”

“Didn’t Daedalus build the ship
for
King Minos?” Mentor asked.

“Oh yes. That he did. But once he realised Minos wanted a fleet of such ships in order to conquer the world, my master refused to say where the ship lay hidden. He managed to escape from Crete, but I—alas—did not.”

Odysseus’ hand strayed to the front of his tunic. He could feel the folded sheets of papyrus there, with Daedalus’ plans for the construction of the ship. But he still was wary of the old man and said nothing.

“Well, now both ship and workshop are beyond this awful king,” said Mentor. “So, old man, you can rest easy.”

“
Easy
? How can I rest easy? I lie in a filthy dungeon, and every day I am taken out and beaten. One day they’ll put me in the Labyrinth, and that will be the end of me,” Praxios cried.

“The Labyrinth?” Odysseus whispered the word.

“And how can I rest when I don’t know the fate of the golden key? You must have had that if you entered the workshop.” Praxios’ face took on a crafty look.

“Yes, we had the key. What does that matter?” Odysseus asked.

“The golden key is the master key,” Praxios replied excitedly. “No one knows but I.” He looked around as if fearing to be overheard.

“Master of what?” asked Mentor and Odysseus simultaneously.

“Maybe you’re spies sent to catch me out,” Praxios suddenly whispered, crouching away from the boys.

“Let me tell you about the bronze hound,” Odysseus said, leaning towards him.

“And the statues of the man and woman so lifelike they almost drew breath,” added Mentor.

“Yes, yes—I see, you
have
been there. Give me the master key,” Praxios begged.

“First,” Odysseus said, leaning even closer, “tell us what else the key can master.”

“Any lock made by the gods or men,” the old man said, holding out a trembling hand. “That was one of the secrets foul Deucalion has never wrested from me.”