But Theseus answered, ‘The man who stretches his guests upon a bed and hews off their hands and feet, what shall be done to him, when right is done throughout the land?’
Then Procrustes’ countenance changed, and his cheeks grew as green as a lizard, and he felt for his sword in haste; but Theseus leapt on him, and cried—
‘Is this true, my host, or is it false?’ and he clasped Procrustes round waist and elbow, so that he could not draw his sword.
‘Is this true, my host, or is it false?’ But Procrustes answered never a word.
Then Theseus flung him from him, and lifted up his dreadful club; and before Procrustes could strike him he had struck, and felled him to the ground.
And once again he struck him; and his evil soul fled forth, and went down to Hades squeaking, like a bat into the darkness of a cave.
Then Theseus stript him of his gold ornaments, and went up to his house, and found there great wealth and treasure, which he had stolen from the passers-by. And he called the people of the country, whom Procrustes had spoiled a long time, and parted the spoil among them, and went down the mountains, and away.
And he went down the glens of Parnes, through mist, and cloud, and rain, down the slopes of oak, and lentisk, and arbutus, and fragrant bay, till he came to the Vale of Cephisus, and the pleasant town of Aphidnai, and the home of the Phytalid heroes, where they dwelt beneath a mighty elm.
And there they built an altar, and bade him bathe in Cephisus, and offer a yearling ram, and purified him from the blood of Sinis, and sent him away in peace.
And he went down the valley by Acharnai, and by the silver-swirling stream, while all the people blessed him, for the fame of his prowess had spread wide, till he saw the plain of Athens, and the hill where Athené dwells.
So Theseus went up through Athens, and all the people ran out to see him; for his fame had gone before him and every one knew of his mighty deeds. And all cried, ‘Here comes the hero who slew Sinis, and Phaia the wild sow of Crommyon, and conquered Kerkuon in wrestling, and slew Procrustes the pitiless.’ But Theseus went on sadly and steadfastly, for his heart yearned after his father; and he said, ‘How shall I deliver him from these leeches who suck his blood?’
So he went up the holy stairs, and into the Acropolis, where Ægeus’ palace stood; and he went straight into Ægeus’ hall, and stood upon the threshold, and looked round.
And there he saw his cousins sitting about the table at the wine: many a son of Pallas, but no Ægeus among them. There they sat and feasted, and laughed, and passed the wine-cup round; while harpers harped, and slave-girls sang, and the tumblers showed their tricks.
Loud laughed the sons of Pallas, and fast went the wine-cup round; but Theseus frowned, and said under his breath, ‘No wonder that the land is full of robbers, while such as these bear rule.’
Then the Pallantids saw him, and called to him, half-drunk with wine, ‘Holla, tall stranger at the door, what is your will to-day?’
‘I come hither to ask for hospitality.’
‘Then take it, and welcome. You look like a hero and a bold warrior; and we like such to drink with us.’
‘I ask no hospitality of you; I ask it of Ægeus the king, the master of this house.’
At that some growled, and some laughed, and shouted, ‘Heyday! we are all masters here.’
‘Then I am master as much as the rest of you,’ said Theseus, and he strode past the table up the hall, and looked around for Ægeus; but he was nowhere to be seen.
The Pallantids looked at him, and then at each other, and each whispered to the man next him, ‘This is a forward fellow; he ought to be thrust out at the door.’ But each man’s neighbour whispered in return, ‘His shoulders are broad; will you rise and put him out?’ So they all sat still where they were.
Then Theseus called to the servants, and said, ‘Go tell King Ægeus, your master, that Theseus of Troezene is here, and asks to be his guest awhile.’
A servant ran and told Ægeus, where he sat in his chamber within, by Medeia the dark witch-woman, watching her eye and hand. And when Ægeus heard of Troezene he turned pale and red again, and rose from his seat trembling, while Medeia watched him like a snake.
‘What is Troezene to you?’ she asked. But he said hastily, ‘Do you not know who this Theseus is? The hero who has cleared the country from all monsters; but that he came from Troezene, I never heard before. I must go out and welcome him.’
So Ægeus came out into the hall; and when Theseus saw him, his heart leapt into his mouth, and he longed to fall on his neck and welcome him; but he controlled himself, and said, ‘My father may not wish for me, after all. I will try him before I discover myself;’ and he bowed low before Ægeus, and said, ‘I have delivered the king’s realm from many monsters; therefore I am come to ask a reward of the king.’
And old Ægeus looked on him, and loved him, as what fond heart would not have done? But he only sighed, and said—
‘It is little that I can give you, noble lad, and nothing that is worthy of you; for surely you are no mortal man, or at least no mortal’s son.’
‘All I ask,’ said Theseus, ‘is to eat and drink at your table.’
‘That I can give you,’ said Ægeus, ‘if at least I am master in my own hall.’
Then he bade them put a seat for Theseus, and set before him the best of the feast; and Theseus sat and ate so much, that all the company wondered at him: but always he kept his club by his side.
But Medeia the dark witch-woman had been watching him all the while. She saw how Ægeus turned red and pale when the lad said that he came from Troezene. She saw, too, how his heart was opened toward Theseus; and how Theseus bore himself before all the sons of Pallas, like a lion among a pack of curs. And she said to herself, ‘This youth will be master here; perhaps he is nearer to Ægeus already than mere fancy. At least the Pallantilds will have no chance by the side of such as he.’
Then she went back into her chamber modestly, while Theseus ate and drank; and all the servants whispered, ‘This, then, is the man who killed the monsters! How noble are his looks, and how huge his size! Ah, would that he were our master’s son!’
But presently Medeia came forth, decked in all her jewels, and her rich Eastern robes, and looking more beautiful than the day, so that all the guests could look at nothing else. And in her right hand she held a golden cup, and in her left a flask of gold; and she came up to Theseus, and spoke in a sweet, soft, winning voice—
‘Hail to the hero, the conqueror, the unconquered, the destroyer of all evil things! Drink, hero, of my charmed cup, which gives rest after every toil, which heals all wounds, and pours new life into the veins. Drink of my cup, for in it sparkles the wine of the East, and Nepenthe, the comfort of the Immortals.’
And as she spoke, she poured the flask into the cup; and the fragrance of the wine spread through the hall, like the scent of thyme and roses.
And Theseus looked up in her fair face and into her deep dark eyes. And as he looked, he shrank and shuddered; for they were dry like the eyes of a snake. And he rose, and said, ‘The wine is rich and fragrant, and the wine-bearer as fair as the Immortals; but let her pledge me first herself in the cup, that the wine may be the sweeter from her lips.’
Then Medeia turned pale, and stammered, ‘Forgive me, fair hero; but I am ill, and dare drink no wine.’
And Theseus looked again into her eyes, and cried, ‘Thou shalt pledge me in that cup, or die.’ And he lifted up his brazen club, while all the guests looked on aghast.
Medeia shrieked a fearful shriek, and dashed the cup to the ground, and fled; and where the wine flowed over the marble pavement, the stone bubbled, and crumbled, and hissed, under the fierce venom of the draught.
But Medeia called her dragon chariot, and sprang into it and fled aloft, away over land and sea, and no man saw her more.
And Ægeus cried, ‘What hast thou done?’ But Theseus pointed to the stone, ‘I have rid the land of an enchantment: now I will rid it of one more.’
And he came close to Ægeus, and drew from his bosom the sword and the sandals, and said the words which his mother bade him.
And Ægeus stepped back a pace, and looked at the lad till his eyes grew dim; and then he cast himself on his neck and wept, and Theseus wept on his neck, till they had no strength left to weep more.
Then Ægeus turned to all the people, and cried, ‘Behold my son, children of Cecrops, a better man than his father was before him.’
Who, then, were mad but the Pallantids, though they had been mad enough before? And one shouted, ‘Shall we make room for an upstart, a pretender, who comes from we know not where?’ And another, ‘If he be one, we are more than one; and the stronger can hold his own.’ And one shouted one thing, and one another; for they were hot and wild with wine: but all caught swords and lances off the wall, where the weapons hung around, and sprang forward to Theseus, and Theseus sprang forward to them.
And he cried, ‘Go in peace, if you will, my cousins; but if not, your blood be on your own heads.’ But they rushed at him; and then stopped short and railed him, as curs stop and bark when they rouse a lion from his lair.
But one hurled a lance from the rear rank, which past close by Theseus’ head; and at that Theseus rushed forward, and the fight began indeed. Twenty against one they fought, and yet Theseus beat them all; and those who were left fled down into the town, where the people set on them, and drove them out, till Theseus was left alone in the palace, with Ægeus his new-found father. But before nightfall all the town came up, with victims, and dances, and songs; and they offered sacrifices to Athené, and rejoiced all the night long, because their king had found a noble son, and an heir to his royal house.
So Theseus stayed with his father all the winter: and when the spring equinox drew near, all the Athenians grew sad and silent, and Theseus saw it, and asked the reason; but no one would answer him a word.
Then he went to his father, and asked him: but Ægeus turned away his face and wept.
‘Do not ask, my son, beforehand, about evils which must happen: it is enough to have to face them when they come.’
And when the spring equinox came, a herald came to Athens, and stood in the market, and cried, ‘O people and King of Athens, where is your yearly tribute?’ Then a great lamentation arose throughout the city. But Theseus stood up to the herald, and cried—
‘And who are you, dog-faced, who dare demand tribute here? If I did not reverence your herald’s staff, I would brain you with this club.’
And the herald answered proudly, for he was a grave and ancient man—
‘Fair youth, I am not dog-faced or shameless; but I do my master’s bidding, Minos, the King of hundred-citied Crete, the wisest of all kings on earth. And you must be surely a stranger here, or you would know why I come, and that I come by right.’
‘I am a stranger here. Tell me, then, why you come.’
‘To fetch the tribute which King Ægeus promised to Minos, and confirmed his promise with an oath. For Minos conquered all this land, and Megara which lies to the east, when he came hither with a great fleet of ships, enraged about the murder of his son. For his son Androgeos came hither to the Panathenaic games, and overcame all the Greeks in the sports, so that the people honoured him as a hero. But when Ægeus saw his valour, he envied him, and feared lest he should join the sons of Pallas, and take away the sceptre from him. So he plotted against his life, and slew him basely, no man knows how or where. Some say that he waylaid him by Oinoe, on the road which goes to Thebes; and some that he sent him against the bull of Marathon, that the beast might kill him. But Ægeus says that the young men killed him from envy, because he had conquered them in the games. So Minos came hither and avenged him, and would not depart till this land had promised him tribute—seven youths and seven maidens every year, who go with me in a black-sailed ship, till they come to hundred-citied Crete.’
And Theseus ground his teeth together, and said, ‘Wert thou not a herald I would kill thee for saying such things of my father; but I will go to him, and know the truth.’ So he went to his father, and asked him; but he turned away his head and wept, and said, ‘Blood was shed in the land unjustly, and by blood it is avenged. Break not my heart by questions; it is enough to endure in silence.’
Then Theseus groaned inwardly, and said, ‘I will go myself with these youths and maidens, and kill Minos upon his royal throne.’
And Ægeus shrieked, and cried, ‘You shall not go, my son, the light of my old age, to whom alone I look to rule this people after I am dead and gone. You shall not go, to die horribly, as those youths and maidens die; for Minos thrusts them into a labyrinth, which Daidalos made for him among the rocks,—Daidalos the renegade, the accursed, the pest of this his native land. From that labyrinth no one can escape, entangled in its winding ways, before they meet the Minotaur, the monster who feeds upon the flesh of men. There he devours them horribly, and they never see this land again.’
Then Theseus grew red, and his ears tingled, and his heart beat loud in his bosom. And he stood awhile like a tall stone pillar on the cliffs above some hero’s grave; and at last he spoke—
‘Therefore all the more I will go with them, and slay the accursed beast. Have I not slain all evil-doers and monsters, that I might free this land? Where are Periphetes, and Sinis, and Kerkuon, and Phaia the wild sow? Where are the fifty sons of Pallas? And this Minotaur shall go the road which they have gone, and Minos himself, if he dare stay me.’
‘But how will you slay him, my son? For you must leave your club and your armour behind, and be cast to the monster, defenceless and naked like the rest.’
And Theseus said, ‘Are there no stones in that labyrinth; and have I not fists and teeth? Did I need my club to kill Kerkuon, the terror of all mortal men?’
Then Ægeus clung to his knees; but he would not hear; and at last he let him go, weeping bitterly, and said only this one word—
‘Promise me but this, if you return in peace, though that may hardly be: take down the black sail of the ship (for I shall watch for it all day upon the cliffs), and hoist instead a white sail, that I may know afar off that you are safe.’
And Theseus promised, and went out, and to the market-place where the herald stood, while they drew lots for the youths and maidens, who were to sail in that doleful crew. And the people stood wailing and weeping, as the lot fell on this one and on that; but Theseus strode into the midst, and cried—‘Here is a youth who needs no lot. I myself will be one of the seven.’
And the herald asked in wonder, ‘Fair youth, know you whither you are going?’
And Theseus said, ‘I know. Let us go down to the black-sailed ship.’
So they went down to the black-sailed ship, seven maidens, and seven youths, and Theseus before them all, and the people following them lamenting. But Theseus whispered to his companions, ‘Have hope, for the monster is not immortal. Where are Periphetes, and Sinis, and Sciron, and all whom I have slain?’ Then their hearts were comforted a little; but they wept as they went on board, and the cliffs of Sunium rang, and all the isles of the Ægean Sea, with the voice of their lamentation, as they sailed on toward their deaths in Crete.
PART III
HOW THESEUS SLEW THE MINOTAUR
And at last they came to Crete, and to Cnossus, beneath the peaks of Ida, and to the palace of Minos the great king, to whom Zeus himself taught laws. So he was the wisest of all mortal kings, and conquered all the Ægean isles; and his ships were as many as the sea-gulls, and his palace like a marble hill. And he sat among the pillars of the hall, upon his throne of beaten gold, and around him stood the speaking statues which Daidalos had made by his skill. For Daidalos was the most cunning of all Athenians, and he first invented the plumb-line, and the auger, and glue, and many a tool with which wood is wrought. And he first set up masts in ships, and yards, and his son made sails for them: but Perdix his nephew excelled him; for he first invented the saw and its teeth, copying it from the back-bone of a fish; and invented, too, the chisel, and the compasses, and the potter’s wheel which moulds the clay. Therefore Daidalos envied him, and hurled him headlong from the temple of Athené; but the Goddess pitied him (for she loves the wise), and changed him into a partridge, which flits for ever about the hills. And Daidalos fled to Crete, to Minos, and worked for him many a year, till he did a shameful deed, at which the sun hid his face on high.
Then he fled from the anger of Minos, he and Icaros his son having made themselves wings of feathers, and fixed the feathers with wax. So they flew over the sea toward Sicily; but Icaros flew too near the sun; and the wax of his wings was melted, and he fell into the Icarian Sea. But Daidalos came safe to Sicily, and there wrought many a wondrous work; for he made for King Cocalos a reservoir, from which a great river watered all the land, and a castle and a treasury on a mountain, which the giants themselves could not have stormed; and in Selinos he took the steam which comes up from the fires of Ætna, and made of it a warm bath of vapour, to cure the pains of mortal men; and he made a honeycomb of gold, in which the bees came and stored their honey, and in Egypt he made the forecourt of the temple of Hephaistos in Memphis, and a statue of himself within it, and many another wondrous work. And for Minos he made statues which spoke and moved, and the temple of Britomartis, and the dancing-hall of Ariadne, which he carved of fair white stone. And in Sardinia he worked for Iölaos, and in many a land beside, wandering up and down for ever with his cunning, unlovely and accursed by men.
But Theseus stood before Minos, and they looked each other in the face. And Minos bade take them to prison, and cast them to the monster one by one, that the death of Androgeos might be avenged. Then Theseus cried—
‘A boon, O Minos! Let me be thrown first to the beast. For I came hither for that very purpose, of my own will, and not by lot.’
‘Who art thou, then, brave youth?’
‘I am the son of him whom of all men thou hatest most, Ægeus the king of Athens, and I am come here to end this matter.’
And Minos pondered awhile, looking steadfastly at him, and he thought, ‘The lad means to atone by his own death for his father’s sin;’ and he answered at last mildly—
‘Go back in peace, my son. It is a pity that one so brave should die.’
But Theseus said, ‘I have sworn that I will not go back till I have seen the monster face to face.’
And at that Minos frowned, and said, ‘Then thou shalt see him; take the madman away.’
And they led Theseus away into the prison, with the other youths and maids.
But Ariadne, Minos’ daughter, saw him, as she came out of her white stone hall; and she loved him for his courage and his majesty, and said, ‘Shame that such a youth should die!’ And by night she went down to the prison, and told him all her heart; and said—
‘Flee down to your ship at once, for I have bribed the guards before the door. Flee, you and all your friends, and go back in peace to Greece; and take me, take me with you! for I dare not stay after you are gone; for my father will kill me miserably, if he knows what I have done.’
And Theseus stood silent awhile; for he was astonished and confounded by her beauty: but at last he said, ‘I cannot go home in peace, till I have seen and slain this Minotaur, and avenged the deaths of the youths and maidens, and put an end to the terrors of my land.’
‘And will you kill the Minotaur? How, then?’
‘I know not, nor do I care: but he must be strong if he be too strong for me.’
Then she loved him all the more, and said, ‘But when you have killed him, how will you find your way out of the labyrinth?’
‘I know not, neither do I care: but it must be a strange road, if I do not find it out before I have eaten up the monster’s carcase.’
Then she loved him all the more, and said—‘Fair youth, you are too bold; but I can help you, weak as I am. I will give you a sword, and with that perhaps you may slay the beast; and a clue of thread, and by that, perhaps, you may find your way out again. Only promise me that if you escape safe you will take me home with you to Greece; for my father will surely kill me, if he knows what I have done.’
Then Theseus laughed, and said, ‘Am I not safe enough now?’ And he hid the sword in his bosom, and rolled up the clue in his hand; and then he swore to Ariadne, and fell down before her, and kissed her hands and her feet; and she wept over him a long while, and then went away; and Theseus lay down and slept sweetly.
And when the evening came, the guards came in and led him away to the labyrinth.
And he went down into that doleful gulf, through winding paths among the rocks, under caverns, and arches, and galleries, and over heaps of fallen stone. And he turned on the left hand, and on the right hand, and went up and down, till his head was dizzy; but all the while he held his clue. For when he went in he had fastened it to a stone, and left it to unroll out of his hand as he went on; and it lasted him till he met the Minotaur, in a narrow chasm between black cliffs.
And when he saw him he stopped awhile, for he had never seen so strange a beast. His body was a man’s: but his head was the head of a bull; and his teeth were the teeth of a lion, and with them he tore his prey. And when he saw Theseus he roared, and put his head down, and rushed right at him.
But Theseus stept aside nimbly, and as he passed by, cut him in the knee; and ere he could turn in the narrow path, he followed him, and stabbed him again and again from behind, till the monster fled bellowing wildly; for he never before had felt a wound. And Theseus followed him at full speed, holding the clue of thread in his left hand.
Then on, through cavern after cavern, under dark ribs of sounding stone, and up rough glens and torrent-beds, among the sunless roots of Ida, and to the edge of the eternal snow, went they, the hunter and the hunted, while the hills bellowed to the monster’s bellow.
And at last Theseus came up with him, where he lay panting on a slab among the snow, and caught him by the horns, and forced his head back, and drove the keen sword through his throat.
Then he turned, and went back limping and weary, feeling his way down by the clue of thread, till he came to the mouth of that doleful place and saw waiting for him, whom but Ariadne!
And he whispered ‘It is done!’ and showed her the sword; and she laid her finger on her lips, and led him to the prison, and opened the doors, and set all the prisoners free, while the guards lay sleeping heavily; for she had silenced them with wine.
Then they fled to their ship together, and leapt on board, and hoisted up the sail; and the night lay dark around them, so that they passed through Minos’ ships, and escaped all safe to Naxos; and there Ariadne became Theseus’ wife.