Theseus and the Minotaur

Every nine years, the island of Crete demanded a terrible tribute from the city of Athens. Seven young people had to sail across the sea and enter a maze called the Labyrinth, where a fearsome creature waited in the dark. No one who entered had ever come back.

When the black-sailed ship arrived in the harbor, Prince Theseus stepped forward. "I will go," he said. His father, King Aegeus, gripped his son's shoulders. His hands trembled. "You are all I have," the king whispered.

Theseus looked into his father's eyes. "I will come home," he said. "Watch for the sails. If they are white, you will know I am safe." Aegeus held him close. Then Theseus walked down to the dark ship, and did not look back.

The sea crossing took three days. Theseus stood at the bow and watched the waves, thinking of his father on the cliff above Athens, already watching for his return. The other young Athenians huddled together on the deck, too frightened to speak. Theseus tried to look brave for them, though his stomach churned with the sea.

When they reached Crete, King Minos was waiting on the white stone steps of his palace. He wore a crown shaped like the horns of a bull, and his face was hard as carved marble. He looked down at the young Athenians the way a person looks at stones on the ground. "Tomorrow," he said, and his voice carried no feeling at all, "you enter the Labyrinth." Then he turned away, as if they were already forgotten.

That night, a soft knock came at the door of the room where the Athenians slept. Theseus opened it and found a girl standing in the moonlight. She wore a pink dress and flowers in her dark hair. "I am Ariadne," she whispered. "The king's daughter."

She pressed something into his hand — a spool of golden thread that caught the light like a tiny sun. "Tie this to the entrance when you go in," she said. "Let it unwind behind you. It will lead you back out." She paused and looked at him with serious eyes. "There is something else. The creature in the Labyrinth — people say it is a monster. But some nights, when the palace is quiet, I hear it crying." Before Theseus could answer, she slipped away into the dark.

The entrance to the Labyrinth was a mouth of stone cut into the hillside. Theseus tied the golden thread to a rock at the opening. Then he stepped inside.

The darkness swallowed him. The walls pressed close, slick with damp, and the air smelled of earth and age. He could hear nothing but his own breathing and the faint drip of water somewhere far below. The passages twisted and turned and split into more passages. Left, then right, then left again — each turn looked the same. Without the thread, he would have been lost in moments. He could feel it unwinding behind him, thin and steady, a lifeline glowing faintly gold in all that dark.

Deep in the maze, something breathed. Something enormous. The sound echoed off the stone walls, and Theseus felt his heart hammer against his ribs. But he kept walking.

He found it in a great round chamber at the heart of the maze. It sat against the far wall, enormous, its bull's head bowed between its knees. Two curved horns rose from its skull like crescent moons. Its shoulders were broader than a doorway. When it raised its head, its eyes caught the faint light, and Theseus saw that they were dark and deep and full of something he did not expect.

The creature stood. It was twice his height. It opened its mouth, and the sound that came out shook dust from the ceiling.

Theseus wanted to run. Every part of him said run. But he remembered what Ariadne had told him — I hear it crying — and instead of running, he spoke. "My name is Theseus," he said. His voice shook, but he did not step back. "What is yours?"

The creature stared at him for a long time. Then, in a voice rough and low, like stones shifting underground, it said: "Asterion." It was the first time anyone had asked.

Asterion lowered himself back to the ground, slowly, the way a very tired animal lies down. "They put me here when I was small," he said. "They were afraid of how I looked." He lifted one enormous hand and pointed to the far corner of the chamber, where a crack in the ceiling let in a thin column of sunlight. Green things grew there — moss and tiny flowers pushing up between the stones. "I made a garden," he said quietly. "It is the only beautiful thing I have."

Theseus sat down across from him. He did not know what to say. So he said the truest thing he could think of. "You should not have to live in the dark."

They followed the golden thread back through the winding dark, Theseus in front and Asterion behind, ducking his great horns under every low archway. The thread shone steadily, and the air grew fresher with every turn.

When they stepped into the sunlight, the guards stumbled back in terror. King Minos came striding down from the palace, his face tight with fury. "What is this?" he demanded. "That creature belongs in the Labyrinth."

Theseus stood between Asterion and the king. He was half the king's height, but his voice did not waver. "Asterion belongs to himself," he said. "And the tribute is over. No more children will enter your maze." Minos opened his mouth. Then he looked at the faces of his own guards, and at Ariadne standing on the palace steps, and he saw that not one of them would carry out his orders. He said nothing. He turned and walked back into his palace alone.

Before they sailed, Theseus climbed the mast and pulled down the black sails. In their place, he raised white ones that filled with wind and gleamed against the blue sky.

Far away, on a cliff above Athens, King Aegeus had stood every day since his son left, watching the horizon. When he saw the white sails, he dropped to his knees and wept.

The ship reached the harbor at sunset. Aegeus ran down the stone steps and gathered Theseus in his arms, and for a long time neither of them spoke. Behind them, Asterion stood on the deck, blinking at the golden light on the water. He had never seen a sunset from above the ground. Ariadne, who had sailed with them, took his hand. "Welcome home," she said — and meant it for all of them.