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.”