I’m being herded, he thought. I’m being forced to choose a single path. But there was nothing he could do about it. He went forward, he went backward, he went forward again.
Then ahead of him, he saw something humped up in the passageway. He held the sword out in front, the torch high, and ran forward. Anything to relieve the monotony of the place.
But he pulled up short when he saw what the hump really was: a human skeleton, its clothes shredded and stained with dried blood.
“Penelope,” he whispered, even as he saw that the skeleton wore a man’s tunic.
He stood very still, listening, the upraised sword trembling as his tired arm shook.
The Labyrinth was as silent as …
As a tomb.
“Not a good thought,” he told himself, and moved on.
He found a second skeleton. Then a third. He thought they might be old. That the beast who had ravaged them might be old. Might even be dead.
He wondered if he should call out to Penelope. To let her know he was looking for her.
“Stupid idea,” he whispered to himself. It would alert the beast.
He didn’t want to alert the beast.
And then he heard a sound from ahead in the dark corridor.
Clip.
Clop.
Clip.
An animal’s hooves on the stone floor.
Not dead, then, he thought. Meaning the beast. Hoping he meant Penelope. He set down the torch and moved out of its light.
It was easier holding the sword in two hands. Much easier.
He held his breath and went around a bend in the passage.
Clip.
Clop.
He raised his sword in both hands and waited, his palms sweaty. He hoped the beast could not smell him.
But he could smell the beast now: musky stink of a meat eater.
The hoofbeats came closer.
They were almost on top of him.
Releasing all his fear in one horrific battle cry, he leaped out of hiding and swung the sword.
A bulky figure reeled back, dropped a little light, and avoided the bronze blade by inches.
“Great Paaaaaan!” the old satyr exclaimed. “Is that any waaaay to greet aaaan old friend?”
CHAPTER 23: LADON
SILENUS PICKED UP A bronze lamp from the Labyrinth floor. As he did so, the yellow flame cast flickering shadows over his little horns, making them look larger. For a moment he seemed as fearsome as any monster.
“You’re the horned beast?” Odysseus cried.
“I don’t know that I caaare for the term,” Silenus said, “but thaaaat’s whaaat the devil Deucalion caaaalled me.”
Odysseus let the heavy blade touch the ground. His arm was now aching. “By all the gods, how did you get here?” He was so relieved to see the old satyr, he didn’t even mind the stink.
“Those piraaaatical friends of yours were very persistent,” Silenus said. “They finally caught me taaaaking a naaaap in my caaaave. They draaaagged me on board aaaand brought me here, where the king bought me. A pretty price he paaaaid too.” There was a note of pride in his bleating voice. “A saaack full of gold aaaand jewels.”
Suddenly remembering the skeletons, Odysseus said, “How long have you been here?”
“Two or three daaaays,” Silenus answered uncertainly. “Deucalion supplied me with enough food to laaaast a week, or so he said. He underestimated my aaaappetite. It’s gone, aaaand I’ve filled the lamp with the laaaast of the oil he left me.”
“I have a torch,” Odysseus said, gesturing behind him. “Back there. But it won’t burn for long, either. Maybe we should just use one till the other is about to give out.”
“Good plaaaan,” the satyr said. “Do you have other plaaaans? You’re very good with plaaaans.” He smiled. It didn’t improve his looks.
“My only plan was to kill the horned beast, rescue Penelope, and get out of here as fast as I could,” said Odysseus.
Silenus nodded. “Good plaaaan,” he said. “Except for the killing.” He thought a minute. “Penelope is the pretty girl?”
“I think so,” said Odysseus.
“I thought I smelled something. Aaaa flowery perfume. I hoped it was a haaaandmaid of the gods. That’s where I was going now. Aaaa woman is better than food any daaaay. Though …” he sighed, “I could do with some food right now. Do you haaaave any?”
Odysseus shook his head.
“Well, then,” said the satyr, “it will haaaave to be the girl. Get your torch. With my nose”—and he laid a finger against his nostril—“we’ll find her soon enough.”
As soon as Odysseus had retrieved his torch, they moved off smartly together. The sound of the satyr’s hooves clippity-clopping kept echoing off the stone walls.
Every once in a while, Odysseus could feel the floors shift. Each time, when he turned around, the way behind was blocked. But as their journey went on, the shifts became fewer and fewer.
“We’re getting close to the centre of the maaaaze now,” Silenus explained. “It’s easier to find your waaaay. Nothing moves in the centre.”
“That’s good,” Odysseus said.
They came to an intersection, where Silenus paused for a few more sniffs. He nodded, turned right.
“Not faaaar,” he said. “Yes—look!”
Ahead in the semi-darkness, a burnt-out torch at her feet, a girl huddled against the wall. At the sound of Silenus’ hooves, she stood, picked up the torch, and held it above her head like a cudgel. She was wearing a Cretan dress only slightly less splendid than Helen’s, though spoiled from her time in the maze.
“You saaaaid she was the pretty one.” Silenus’ voice held disappointment.
Odysseus was so relieved to see Penelope alive, he blurted out, “She is to me.”
At his voice, Penelope ran over and threw her arms around his neck. “Merciful Athena! I thought the beast had come for me.”
“In aaaa manner of speaking …” Silenus said. “Though I’ve never eaten human flesh. A kiss or two was all I’d hoped for.”
Penelope let go of Odysseus and turned to the old satyr. Pulling his head down, she planted a kiss between his little horns.
He let out a contented bleat.
Then Penelope looked over at Odysseus. “Where’s Helen? Where’s Mentor?”
“They’re at the harbour trying to free my old captain and get us a ship.”
“Can we get out of here?”
“Easier saaaaid than done,” Silenus said. “I’ve been looking for a waaaay out these past few daaaays. Don’t suppose you brought a bit of thread along? So we caaaan see where we’ve been.”
“I could unweave a bit of my dress,” Penelope said, holding up the skirt. “It’s ugly anyway.”
“I’m not sure the Labyrinth will let us go backwards,” Odysseus said thoughtfully. “But maybe we should be going the other way.”
Penelope looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”
“Remember the prophecy,” Odysseus said, leaning on the sword. “If we can get the two of you—maiden and horned beast—together in the centre of the maze, maybe we’ll fulfill the prophecy and get our heart’s desire.”
“My heart’s desire is to get out of here,” said Penelope.
“And mine,” added Odysseus.
“The centre …” the satyr said slowly. “Thaaaat maaaay not be so simple.”
Before Odysseus could ask what Silenus meant, a horrifying din came echoing through the stone passageways. It was a savage chorus of roars and snarls and hisses, like a pack of hungry beasts.
“What’s that?” Odysseus asked.
Penelope shivered. “That’s what I thought was the beast until you showed up with Silenus. I’ve heard that sound three times now.”
“It’s the real beast,” said Silenus. He turned to Odysseus. “It’s naaaame is Laaaadon. I’ve been meaning to tell you aaaabout him.”