Authors: Mary Renault
Amyntor too had the courage of lions. I have never done a harder thing than tell him, as I had to, that he must let the bull-leaping alone. He was too big for it (he had grown even since we came) and too slow; it would have ended in someone's death. He took it like a gentleman, but very hard. Yet, after, he proved the best catcher I ever saw, the steadiest and most daring. I myself, and every Crane who did the bull-leap, owed him our lives over and over.
After four months, the last bull-leaper died who had been there before us. From then on, when a new batch of dancers came in, still wearing the clothes of their own land, huddled together or staring open-mouthed, it would be a Crane who would hide in Daidalos' bull to make them jump; and when I came to look them over, people would wait and watch, to see what I thought.
One never knew what would arrive. Egyptians we never got, for they are a strong people: Minos sent gifts to Pharaoh, jewels of gold and crystal, carved rhytons and rare flowers and precious dyes, rather than demands for tribute. But all others we had, from every shore the stream of ocean washes, and further yet: Persians pale as ivory, with blue eyelids, graceful and frail; Minyans from all the islands; wild barbarians, dark like polished cornel-wood, from the forests of Africa, who would be fierce and merry, or grieve to death, sinking into the earth without laying hands on themselves, only by a wish. And it was in the Bull Court that I first saw Amazon girls from Pontos, proud-faced and slim, free-striding, with slender fingers hard from the bow and spear, who looked you in the eye as cool and measuring as young princes at war. They were much prized in the bull ring, and the Cretans got as many as they could. Whenever I saw such a girl, my heart would stir and quicken, I could not tell why. Men would be as gods, if they had foreknowledge.
All kinds of outlanders we got, by ones and twos, from unheard-of places, caught on a journey perhaps and sold as slaves. One such, though he did not last long, I remember for his strangeness; a son of wandering cattle herders in the back hills beyond Jericho. He had a hatred of the Goddess; or, rather, he denied that she was anything, only a doll that men had made. When I asked if he was mad to mock her in her own precinct while he was in her hand, he answered that his people served no she-deities at all, but only the Sky Father, whose name he would not pronounce, that being forbidden them. He called him the Lord. They hold like the Hellenes that he lives for ever; but they say he has neither father nor mother, brother nor sister, wife nor child, but reigns all alone in the sky, and there was never a time when he was not. Stranger still, it is unlawful among them to make an image of him; when I asked what countenance he had, this youth said that his face was made of fire. I could not learn how they had offended him, to make him appear to them so dreadfully. But they have an oracle that he will someday beget one son to be their guardian hero. Finding the youth so ignorant, I told him Zeus had got many sons on earth, from one of whom I was descended myself. But he did not like it. He came of up-country people, frightened of towns, and so simple that they think Ever-Living Zeus is concerned with no one but them.
His team thought him unlucky, and I myself advised them to get rid of him; but after all he took it out of their hands. For the very first time he came into the bull ring, he pulled out a knife he had hidden in his loin-guard, and rushed at the bull like a madman, shouting out that he would smite the god of the Philistines (so he called the Cretans) in the name of the Lord. I don't know if he thought the bull would stand and wait for it. No bull is such a fool as that, even in Crete. But Zeus the Merciful did him a favor, in return for all his offerings; he was killed outright. If there had been any life left in him, he would not have got off quickly, that is sure. We were glad to see the last of him. The fingers of two hands would hardly count the gods he had offended; and in the Bull Court, the bulls are hazard enough.
By now most of us had a scar or two from Herakles; he had his brisker days, which one got to know from the switch of his tail as he came out of the bull gate. Then there was no foreseeing him as long as he was fresh. I used to go in first a time or two to take the edge off him; it seemed only right, as I did not really expect to die without a sign from Poseidon first. When I had got the feel of him he would steady a little, and I could put in some of the turns that people knew me by, such as throwing a second somersault off his back. Often those days turned out the best. I can still see his wicked eye saying to me, "I have been too soft with you, and let you get insolent. Don't think so well of yourself." There was a little dance I used to do with him before I went in, which I polished up because it amused the people. One had to be careful, because it gave him a better chance than the leap itself. Once he nearly plugged me straight through the breast. I just turned in time to get it glancing; it gave me the biggest scar ever seen in the Bull Court, clear across me from right to left. There was a wise woman I used to go to, the best of several who knew salves for wounds. She would put all kinds of filth upon them, spiders' webs, or green mold; but she knew earth magic, and they always healed..
After we had been five months in the ring, dancers were living longer even in other teams; they saw how we worked, and one or two swore vows of fellowship, which they mostly kept as far as was in them. But they did not know each other's minds as we did. By now we had forgotten we were ever Athenians or Eleusinians, or that the same womb had not borne us all.
Whenever before the dance we stood before the shrine, and dedicated ourselves to the Goddess-on-Earth in the ritual words, we would stretch our hands palm down toward Mother Dia herself, to purge us of impiety. But one had to look up, out of respect. Often I stared at her eyes to see if they would move. But she stood like a gilded image, stiff and still; even when she lifted her hands, she hardly seemed made of flesh. After a while, having my mind upon the dance, I almost forgot she was alive.
Such was our life in the Bull Court. But once one's name gets known there, it is little of the Labyrinth, outside the royal rooms, one does not see sooner or later. One no longer needed to go looking for a woman at night, but rather to fend off the importunate; a man cannot afford excess in this or anything, who has the bull-dance for a wife.
Even the women could write in Knossos Palace. This I say of my own knowledge, for some of them wrote to me. And I am not speaking just of messages scribbled on a leaf of wet clay, telling one where to meet them, or when the husband would be out. These were whole histories, filling as much as two sheets of Egyptian paper, long as the record of a war. I could not make out above half, and often not so much. They had a hundred ways of stringing things together and knotting them up; I will swear they knew more words than a harper does, though he has only the sound to learn.
But it was not only the bedchambers one went to. Lords and princes would invite one to their feasts, and ask no return beyond one's presence. As to the food and drink, to look at so much was only vexing, for weight is death in the bull ring. But I used to go, from curiosity, and from vanity, and for the sake of what I could learn. Since the gods had spared us so far, we did not yet despair of getting away from Crete.
Cretans are full of fine manners and fanciful customs; thinking, for example, that a man's own fingers are not good enough to serve his mouth with food, but he must use a tool. At first I went in fear of mockery; for they think anyone uncouth who is ignorant of these toys. But I had too much pride to show it. If I could not learn their customs by watching, I used my own as if I chose to. Soon I found this pleased them, especially the women. They love nothing so much as what is new.
All kinds of lords and nobles had houses in Knossos Palace, built right into it, or at least within the precinct. As I say, it was almost a town. But though it was so rambling, it was very well guarded all about, and no one passed the gates unchallenged. At first I thought this was only to keep us in.
Though the name of Minos is old Cretan, and the kings have borne it time out of mind, this house had only a strain of the ancient blood. Ever since the great raid from Mycenae, when the royal kin were put to the sword and the Lion King's brother married the Goddess-on-Earth, the kings had ruled in their own right as well as the Queen's, and were no longer sacrificed in the ninth year. Many of the victors had taken Cretan women, so that most of their customs were still of the old religion; but after that, their houses married among each other, and now they held the native Cretans, who came of the land both sides, in the greatest scorn. I could see no sense in this, for they were not barbarous, being as everyone knows the best craftsmen anywhere; it was they indeed who taught these half Hellenes to write. They are small-made, like most Earthlings, and reddish-dark, but not un-pleasing to look at; and some of them came from very ancient lines, though now brought down and poor. As far as I could see, they were being humbled only to make their masters think better of themselves. It set my teeth on edge to hear them miscalled by scornful nicknames, Scabby or Bandy or Squint, and talked of in their presence as if they were dogs. At home, my grandfather would have thrashed me till his arm was tired, if he had heard me so insolent. They were harshly taxed too, though one heard little of such matters in the Bull Court and cared less. One feels another's grief most where it touches one's own.
When we had been about six months in the bull ring, and I had almost forgotten him, I had a summons from the patron, bidding me to a feast.
I stared at it frowning, at a loss what to do. If I offended him now, he had power to break up the team, and they would begin to die. Yet I felt it would choke me to sit at a man's board whom I meant to be revenged on if I could, it was a question of my honor. After a while, I opened my mind to Amyntor, who understood such matters better than the rest. He was pleased at being asked for counsel, and sat considering. At last he said, "It seems to me, Theseus, that you can eat at his board without being his guest. It is the bread of captivity there, just as it is in the Bull Court; you are getting it served with sauce, that's all. I don't see how that can hurt your honor, even if you kill him. Look at his message. He orders you; he does not ask."
This satisfied me, for Amyntor had the feelings of a gentleman, and more sense than had first appeared. The Bull Court had steadied him.
The Little Palace stood southwest of the great courtyard, with its own gate and guards. I put on my best, since there is no sense in half doing things. When I went visiting in the House of the Ax, I used to wear the Cretan kilt, and had two or three of them; this one was made of a thick blue silk from east of Babylon, and had a bullion fringe. A general's wife had given it me, my chief mistress at that time, and a good one for a bull-leaper, easy and gay. One cannot afford to be worn out with tears and tantrums. But sometimes gifts would come without any name, and then one had to be careful. If one wore them, the giver would point it out to friends and rivals and claim to be one's lover; and the women had no more shame about it than the men.
Often one's richest presents came from lords and princes who had made a good win. All sorts of wagers were laid upon the bull-dance: how long it would last, whether blood would be drawn, how many leaps and how perfect, besides the betting on life and death. Bribes do not tempt a man whose life is the stake already; but a showy gift was the fashion. I had more necklaces than I could wear at once, wrist-seals, and rings for the arm and finger. But the only jewel I never took off was the crystal bull from the Corinthian. Always, in the Bull Court, our most precious trophies were the gifts of the dead.
That night I put on most of my things; I was enough a bull-leaper now not to think myself dressed unless I sounded with gold. Also I had myself freshly shaved. I had yielded, though grudgingly, to this Cretan custom. From fifteen years old, like any growing lad, I had waited for my beard, trying to nourish it with boar's grease and all the other nonsense boys pass on to each other; it seemed absurd just when it was growing to take it off. But here it was the mark of a barbarian; women would shrink at it, or wriggle and laugh. Sometimes I pictured my grandfather staring in disgust at my smooth chin, and asking if I had been gelded. However, he was far away; and it was allowed in the Labyrinth that I had not.
I thought I had seen some rich rooms by now; but they were nothing to the Little Palace, as I found when they led me through. I passed one whole room set out only for gaming, with ebony tables and checkerboards inlaid with gold. But I did not look much about me; Cretans think less of you, if you seem to wonder.
There was a splendid feast laid out in the great guest-hall, and a high-born company was gathering. Most of them knew me, and spoke to me as I went to salute the host. He greeted me with such loud jesting compliments as are meant for the party and mean nothing. I saw he had invited me to please the guests, as he might have hired a dancing-girl. Amyntor was right; I was not his debtor.
We ate off fine painted ware; Cretans cook fish food better than any other people. But I was in no danger of overeating. It killed one's hunger to see even great lords (some of whom I knew to hate him) fawning upon Asterion, changing their faces in time with his like soldiers drilling. While he cracked his coarse jokes, his eyes missed nothing; I saw him watch guests out of hearing as if he could read their lips, and his stewards lingered like spies. Beyond my hatred of him, there was something about him that sickened me. Any man will want power to get what he desires: glory, or lands, or a woman. But this man wanted it for itself, to put down other men, to fatten his pride with eating theirs like the great spider that feeds upon the less.
A brown juggler danced for us, a Sidonian; he had a monkey that helped him with his turn, and understood all he said. At the end, Asterion threw down his gift for him to grovel after; but the monkey picked it up and handed it to his master, bowing with hand on brow. The guests laughed. After he had gone, Asterion spoke to a steward, who went out. I heard another servant ask him where he was going; he answered, "For the monkey. My lord will have it." Just so, I thought, it had been with me.