The White Bull (14 page)

"So now," the captain complained, "he has got it into his head that we are out to swindle him somehow. He doesn't know whether to order you to begin making wings at once, or to forbid it."

Shortly after we had left the audience chamber a message came to both of us from the king; he was insisting that we both stay on indefinitely as his royal guests.

Kena'ani on hearing this brightened noticeably, while I did not know whether to be pleased or not.

The next day I was summoned to talk to the king again, this time alone.

Another surprise awaited me at this second meeting with Cocalus, in the form of another exile from the court of Aegeus. I had known this man slightly at the court of King Aegeus, and despite my changed appearance—I was worn by grief, imprisonment, and danger, and my hair and beard had been cut crudely short in mourning—he was able to identify me as the almost legendary Daedalus, fellow exile from Athens.

Despite this positive identification, Cocalus was still skeptical of my credentials—or of something about me. Still, the king seemed to be trying sincerely to settle his persistent doubts; and in the course of this meeting it occurred to him that the best way to do so would be to set me a task and see if I fulfilled it in a truly Daedalian way.

By this time I thought I could see what was coming, and my suspicions were not wrong: it was to be plumbing again. I sometimes think that if my name is remembered at all by the inhabitants of the earth in the far future, it will be for my handiness with pipes and basins and running water, surely matters that require more diligence than inventiveness to master.

The king and I, as I say, began to discuss plumbing. And in the process of our tentative planning, the project, as projects are wont to do, became ever more grandiose. The king's three daughters intruded upon our meeting before it was half over, and when they discovered what was under discussion, they adopted the idea unanimously and began to nag unmercifully to have new bathrooms finished for them at once. I think what most intrigued them about the project at that time was the possibility of having a luxurious bath without a single servant in attendance to overhear their intrigues and their gossip.

The next day a score of workers, some of them incompetent, many of them only indifferently skilled, and a very few quite worthy, were placed at my disposal. For my workshop I was assigned the main section of the abandoned stable that passed for the royal manufactory, and again my tasks commenced. Progress at the start was slow; I was quickly made to understand that this was no Crete, where all who pretended to be artisans were used to diligent and meaningful labor at the king's command. Still, the king seemed to find my early efforts satisfactory, another difference between himself and Minos.

I had been employed thus for some ten days, working with copper and lead, terra cotta and plans, and training my workers, when Kena'ani, who was growing ever more fretful and anxious to depart, was visited by a delegation from his crew. The men who had remained aboard ship had grown worried and uncertain by reason of our long absence from the port. Restlessly seeking information on the docks at Siracusa, they had heard confused reports of how their captain and I were being detained by King Cocalus. At length, not knowing what else to do, they had dispatched a few of their members into the inte-rior of the island, in an effort to find out how matters actually stood with us.

We informed the worried sailors that while our situation was not exactly what we might have wished, yet still it could have been much worse. The king, as we assured ourselves and Kena'ani's crewmen, was not likely to detain a Phoenician sea-captain very long for no good reason, whatever His Highness might elect to do with a foreign artisan. Word of such abuse would get around, and the sea-trade was too important to risk for anyone who claimed to be a monarch, even of a domain so largely inland as this one.

The sailors who had come to ascertain our fate also brought us some news of the outside world. I was particularly interested to hear a story involving Theseus, Ariadne, and Phaedra. There were two versions of this tale; the first said that the older daughter of Minos had been abandoned on the island of Naxos by her faithless lover, who had then blithely sailed off with her younger sister. The second report was much more reasonable, and I was more inclined to believe it—it said only that the black-sailed ship of the Prince of Athens had been seen putting in at Naxos, with the two princesses on board.

Two of the sailors who came inland had heard other, possibly related news: that the strange phenomena involving gods and monsters, with which Thera
had been infected for a generation or longer, were now reported to have spread
to the somewhat larger island of Naxos to the north.

The delegation of seamen returned to their ship, somewhat reassured by our good spirits and the mild manner of the king who still insisted that we enjoy his hospitality. Another month passed at the court of Cocalus, while the king remained indecisive about me and the wings, his daughters yearned for their new baths, Kena'ani fretted, and I trained my staff of workers and labored at my task of plumbing. And then part of yet another month went by.

Here, in contrast to the situation on Crete, the best source of water was a mountain stream, a surface flow as opposed to springs. But the two places were alike in that the best source was at some distance from the king's chief residence, and a lengthy pipeline was required.

The royal daughters, Aglaia, Euphrosyne, and Thalia, all continued to take an interest in the work. The poor girls had little else to do; they were bored in their father's lonely kingdom, and could afford to invest their attention even in an itinerant plumber and a Phoenician sailor. I believe one of them at least took a notion to get me into her bed, probably out of sheer boredom; but I considered myself too wise to get into such an intrigue with any daughter of any king, and took such precautions as I could. I ignored temptation and stuck to my job. How Kena'ani fared I do not know, but he was wiser in the ways of the world, or some of them at least, than I.

There was another intrigue practiced upon me by the king's daughters, and on this one they were more insistent. It consisted in getting me to make wings for each of them, without their father hearing of the project. The princesses went to the trouble of arranging a secret place for me to work in. Teasingly they promised me great rewards, not all in gold, if I succeeded in providing them with what they wanted, and they more than hinted that they could make great trouble for me if I did not. I had doubts of the reward, but no doubts at all about the trouble, and reluctantly I began to comply with their wishes. I took care however, that the first pair of wings I made were constructed to my own measurements, so that if an emergency arose I might be able to use them to escape—naturally the princesses did not realize this, and each of them counted on being able to get the first pair for herself as soon as it was finished. Remembering how in my previous design the wax had overheated and softened with prolonged use in bright daylight, I painted the improved model a silvery white, the better to reflect the sun's heat.

Then to our small palace there came startling news, which Euphrosyne was first to tell me: that King Minos, or at least a man claiming to be that monarch, had arrived in Sicily with a small entourage, and was quoted as saying, among other things, that he was looking for me.

At first I was almost sure that the princesses were joking when they told me that King Minos of Crete was on their island, for one of their many developed skills was that of inventing wild stories. But when they had left me alone again and I had a chance to think the matter over, I was far from certain that they were not serious. Certainly Minos and his queen must have been back in Crete from their diplomatic tour for well over a month now, and certainly his reaction to the situation he found at home on his return must have been one of rage and a desire to be revenged on those he deemed responsible. Having known the king for some years, I thought he would be capable of going to great lengths to obtain revenge; his personal world must have been virtually destroyed, by the death of the Bull and the departure of both his daughters.

By this time also the first of the new baths, built as an addition at one corner of the modest palace, was approaching a state of readiness. I could assure King Cocalus that in a very short time a demonstration would be possible. Hot water would be provided from a rooftop tank headed by the sun. At night or on cool, cloudy days, a charcoal-burning brazier could do the job.

It was at about this time that another chance traveler arriving at Cocalus's court brought with him a story from Crete, a tale that had obviously grown as it traveled: it said that the craftsman Daedalus, who was still in residence upon that island, had constructed for Queen Pasiphaë a wooden cow, in which she had concealed herself, to receive in her lascivious body the lustful Bull; and that Minos on at last discovering the truth about the wooden cow, had slain his wife in a fit of rage. Daedalus had apparently been excused. It was rumored also that the White Bull had survived the attack by Theseus and was still alive. Though some said that the god was paralyzed, he was still capable of contriving to take vengeance upon others for his condition.

Among the people who retailed these stories at a distance, and those who enjoyed hearing them, none had ever come in close contact with the Bull, but to them it was obvious that such a being must be a god. So too, I thought, the case was likely to be with the strange creatures inhibiting Thera, whether or not they were of the same race as the Bull of Crete. It was quite possible, I thought, that there, too, the facts were much at variance with the rumors.

I sought out the traveler who had brought the most recent story of the visiting Minos, and talked to him alone, wishing to hear in detail all that he had to say. To my regret he could only repeat hearsay regarding the events on Crete; but fortunately he was able to give a firsthand account of some of the things Minos had actually been doing in Sicily.

It was probably true that the White Bull still lived, and there was no reason to think Queen Pasiphaë had really been murdered. But the ruler of Crete, punished by the desertion of his daughters and only heirs, had decided, or had somehow been compelled, to take to the sea in a penitential pilgrimage, trying to make amends to the gods for the attack upon their gift, the White Bull. Since the arrival in Sicily of King Minos—there was no doubt that it was really he—the king had acted and spoken as if he were at least half-crazy. Minos was reported as saying, among other things, that he wished to reward his former chief engineer, Daedalus, for all the marvelous work the artisan had performed for the king on Crete.

I went away from this interview frowning, not really understanding the behavior of Minos as it was reported, and certainly not liking it.

Within a few days of that first warning, other reports about King Minos reached my ears. It was now certain beyond doubt that he was actually in Sicily, by all reports traveling with only a small entourage, and showing little regard for his own security. All this was indeed unlike him. Those who had seen and talked with him did not know what to make of his behavior, and thought he must be indeed strongly under the influence of some god.

"What do you want me to do, Daedalus, when unfortunate Minos comes here?" King Cocalus asked me. "I felt that I could do no less than to forget our past difficulties and offer him entertainment when he is traveling so far from home." As Cocalus spoke his face wore the expression he was wont to use whenever he thought he had conceived a shrewd test by which to try the loyalty of someone. Cocalus was not the wisest nor the cleverest king that I have ever met—the pair of wings that I had built at the urging of his daughters were virtually complete at this time, lying in a workshop within a stone's throw of his bedroom, and I believe that he had no suspicion of their existence. Fortunately for him his clever daughters were all content to sustain him in his power.

I replied: "I am glad, my lord, to leave the matter in your hands. Certainly I have no wish to return to Crete with Minos, or to be any-where but where I am. I do not particularly wish to see my former patron, but I am not afraid to do so." The simple truth has been known to cause problems on occasion, but not as often as its substitutes are wont to do.

Cocalus appeared to be pleased with my truthful answer, and sent me back to work. I pondered the invitation. It was common knowledge that for a long time my new patron had been no friend of the powerful sea-king.

And now I come to another of the sadder chapters in my story.

Until the last minute I continued to hope that Minos would bypass the court where I had found refuge; ordinary prudence ought to have kept him from putting himself virtually in the power of an old and unforgiven adversary. But what a man will do when he considers himself to be acting under a god's command—or when he is under the teaching influence of the White Bull�passes ordinary prudence.

A day came when my friend Kena'ani was at last allowed to take his departure from the court. We parted with some sadness on both sides, though the captain's regrets at parting were noticeably dimmed by his prospects for freedom.

Later in the same day on which Kena'ani took his departure, the royal visitor arrived. Minos was accompanied by a small entourage, which included only a few armed men. The members of this Cretan escort, while they smiled at their hosts, were nervous about the situation in which they now found themselves. But King Cocalus, seeming to have put all enmity aside, made the visitors welcome, and did his rather feeble best to provide a royal entertainment. That evening there was music, dancing girls, and feasting.

Through most of the day I, with my new patron's agreement, kept myself well out of the Cretan's sight. But I was told by one of the princesses that King Minos was asking after me, and did not seem angry. So a little later, during the course of that evening's festivities, I appeared in public.