My mind was slow for lack of sleep; but my body thought for me. I flung myself sideways; his horn struck my thigh glancing, and knocked me down. I rolled away and scrambled upright, spitting out dust and blinking it from my eyes. Hot blood ran down my leg. There was a screeching as if all the women in the stands were being ravished at once.
I flung my hair from my eyes. Hippon was riding the bull’s brow, clinging like a monkey in a hurricane, while Amyntor and Menesthes wrestled him by the horns. That could not last long, the way he was going. His eye was bloodshot, and on his mouth I saw a yellow foam; he moved as if he were mad. I looked at the mill about his head, not liking it much; but there was only one thing for it. When he was straight a moment, I grasped the horn-tips and vaulted over all three of them, to land upon his neck. I twisted round and straddled him, holding the horns low by the head and drumming my heels into his dewlap. It took his mind from the others, and they got away. He charged on with me, as fast as a war chariot. There was a noise too like the roar of battle, and I heard ten thousand open throats bawl “Theseus! Theseus!”
I looked through my hair and saw Amyntor tearing along beside the bull, waiting to catch me when I let go. All the Cranes were wheeling round, too near. He was not ready for them; though I felt shaken half to pieces, I could not leave him yet. “Open out!” I shouted. “Let me ride him!” I locked my feet under his throat, trying to squeeze his windpipe and slow him for want of breath.
He charged onward, tossing and bucketing till my very teeth seemed loosened in my jaws. And the Cranes for the first time had disobeyed me. They were scrambling everywhere. When Herakles dragged a moment, I saw Melantho and Chryse trailing on the horns, then they were gone, I could not see where. Flecks of foam flew backward on my face and arms; and in my nostrils was a strange acrid smell.
The shouting faces were coming near. He was making for the barrier. Now I must leave him, or he would batter me off. I loosed the horns; Amyntor, through everything, was waiting. As he set me down, I knew I was done, a sitting bird when the bull came for me. Amyntor was all spent too; I could hear his sobbing breath. The Cranes were coming up, but they were breathless and slow, from doing more than they had been told to. I waited for Herakles to turn at the barrier and come back. But instead came a great crash, splintering, and shouting. He had charged it head-on.
It was made of cedar-wood as thick as your arm; but he shook it. It rained down nuts and sweets and fans, and even a lap dog. One horn was stuck in it; he wrestled it free, and then he turned. But for me, all the bull ring was slowly turning. Only one thing I knew: that I had been gored, and if you lie down then, your blood is for the Mother.
I stood, panting and swaying. Beside me Amyntor was exhorting me with curses and Minyan love-names, and calling on the gods. It is forbidden to hold up a victim. The bull came on. He seemed as slow as a dream. I thought I must be lightheaded. He seemed coming for ever. His big eyes, bulging and bloodshot, looked into mine. I gathered my last strength, watching which side he would gore. His head went down. It bowed, and sank, and touched the sand. His forelegs folded. He heeled over like a wrecked ship, and lay down in the dust.
There was a hush, and a wavelike sound of awe and wonder. Then the cheers began.
My eyes were clearing, though I felt weak and sick. I saw that my wound though bloody was not deep. The ring was like a garden, as people threw in like mad whatever they had with them, fans and scarves and beads and flowers. The Cranes gathered about me, filthy, grazed and bruised, dust in their hair, their grimy faces streaked with sweat. Phormion was limping; Chryse owed him her life, as she told me after. As she came up, hand in hand with Melantho, I saw her face was scored along the cheekbone so that blood ran down; she would never more be the perfect lily that had sailed from Athens. Helike was joking with Thebe; as happens also at war, she had been taken out of herself and lost her fear just when there would have been sense in it. Amyntor’s grin was silly with weakness; mine was as weak, and doubtless no less foolish. Telamon offered me his shoulder, but I waved him off. My girl in the shrine had been scared enough; at least I could salute her on my feet.
She stood bolt upright on her dais. Her paint stood out like a doll’s, but she performed the ritual unfaltering. I was proud she had commanded herself, so as not to betray us; though she had not the Sight nor the Hearing, I thought, she would make a queen.
Old Herakles lay where he had fallen. A bunch of wind-flowers, thrown from above, had spilled over his head. As I looked he gave a heave and twitch, and the flies settled on his eyes. And from above, where the upper stands were dark with the native Cretans, came a thick solemn buzz, as from men who have seen a portent.
We went out to the gate. I was tired, but not too tired to think. I remembered the guard about the sacred bulls; no common man could enter even the compound. I looked up at the empty box of Minos, and then at the box beside it. There sat our patron, receiving compliments upon his team. But I saw his eyes, when he did not see mine.
Once out of sight, I was not too proud to be carried. In the Bull Court the wise woman washed me and dressed my leg, and gave me a hot spiced cordial, while Aktor looked on whistling through his teeth. Our eyes met. He looked at the herb-woman, shook his head for silence, and walked away.
Thalestris stood by my pallet, one hand on her hip, the other scratching her black hair. I beckoned her nearer. She bent and looked at me, not like a woman at a hurt man but like a warrior watchful in an ambush, waiting the word. I said to her softly, “The bull had medicine.” She nodded. I said, “Are the arms well hidden? Asterion must know something.” I was wondering, as I spoke, how soon he would send for me, and what death he would make me die.
She said, “He can’t know much. Or the arms would be gone already. Yes, they are safe. Don’t trouble yourself; you will be good for nothing till you are rested.” I saw her shoving off the dancers who were coming up to speak to me. She was no fool; she knew if I did not rest now there might be no time later. I lay thinking of her words, my mind slow with weariness and with the herb-woman’s drugs. “He can’t know I killed Minos, or he could put me openly to death. He can’t know of the arms, or they would be gone. But does he know about the Mistress? Or whom she meant by her oracles? Has he put Perimos to the question, or his sons? What does he know?”
So I thought; but I was growing drowsy in spite of myself. I heard again the buzzing of the Cretans, who thought the god had killed the bull at my feet. “Well,” I thought, “sure enough he has been with us.” And it seemed I felt his presence still about, solemn and brooding, so that the sounds of the Bull Court seemed too loud, and made me uneasy. But even as I thought it I fell asleep. I dreamed of my childhood, of serving the island shrine in the hush of noonday, and listening to the spring.
When I awoke, the lamps were being lighted, and the dancers were sitting down to eat. Amyntor, who must have been waiting for my eyes to open, came over and asked what he should bring me. I sat up, though I was almost too stiff to do it, and asked if there had been any news of Minos’ death.
He looked about him. But there was no one near; the dancers were all eating. “No, Theseus. Who told you of it? Can he be trusted? There is quite another rumor going about today. It is said that when the fleet set sail for Sicily, before the gales, Minos went with it, but it was kept secret. They say he went to take the island by surprise, and that was why it was kept dark. It has been denied from the Little Palace, which makes one think it may be true.”
He brought me soup, and a barley-cake, and a piece of honeycomb. I ate, lying on my elbow, and wondering how long it would be before we got the news that Minos was dead in Sicily. Truly, I thought, it is a beast that thinks; and quickly too. It had been clever to deny it; I had to own I should not have thought of that myself.