Burke heard the voices first--strange voices, speaking in a strange
language.
The room came clear a moment later, cool and shadowy. Burke recognized
it by its shape, and by the distinctive relief in painted stucco on one
wall.
So his calculations had been correct. He'd landed in the apartment off
the Queen's Megaron.
Cat-like, he moved towards the room's doorway, the voices.
The speakers were man and woman, apparently. And when Burke flicked the
switch of the computational translator strapped tight to his belly, he
found he could understand them almost as well as if they'd been talking
English.
"... and you're a pretty thing, you know," the man was saying. "As a
matter of fact...."
His voice trailed off, the last words lost in a rising feminine giggle.
"Master Theseus! You're here to see my mistress, not me--"
Warily, Burke peered through the grating of a sort of grilled divider
that helped to separate room from room.
The chamber beyond was larger than the one in which he stood. Brighter,
too--a typical Minoan light-well spilled noonday sun clear along one
side. The furnishings and the octopus frescoes on the wall showed an
opulence that spoke of nothing less than royalty.
As for the man and the woman, they were alone in the room, and playing
a game as old as time. That is, the man was trying to catch the
woman--girl, really--while she strove to stay out of his reach.
Burke decided he could have taken her efforts more seriously if she
hadn't kept giggling--not to mention slowing whenever the man gave any
sign of pausing in his pursuit.
Then, abruptly, the man leaped across a low table, cutting her off.
The girl promptly tripped, and fell into his arms.
The embrace that followed was a trifle too prolonged for Burke's
tastes. When it ended, the girl sighed, starry-eyed, and ran long,
supple fingers through her companion's short black hair. "How can a
warrior such as you, a hero, even look at a serving-wench like me,
Master Theseus?" she murmured.
The man straightened and swelled out his chest; and now Burke saw that
he was not only a good six feet tall and powerfully built, but handsome
in a somewhat coarse, heavy-featured way.
"I'll deny no wench my favors just because she's of a lower station,"
he proclaimed pompously. "I've no doubt you'll keep a man as warm as
this Princess Ariadne who's your mistress."
The girl giggled. "You mustn't say such things, Master Theseus!
Ariadne's the loveliest woman in all Knossos."
"What--?" Theseus' broad brow furrowed, and he stood with mouth half
open, looking more than a little stupid. "Are you trying to confuse me,
wench? If this Ariadne's such a beauty, why must she send secretly for
prisoners from her father's dungeon in order to find lovers?"
An uneasy shadow seemed to fall across the maid's pretty face. She
moved restlessly. "It--it's the curse of Pasiphae, Master Theseus."
"The curse of Pasiphae--?" Theseus looked blank. "What's that, wench?
Tell me of it."
"Of the curse?" The girl's smile grew suddenly stiff, and her hands
moved in a small, nervous gesture.
Then, quickly, she came close to her barrel-chested companion and
slipped her arms about him. "No wonder you're the pride of Athens,
Master Theseus! Close to you this way, I feel your strength. It brings
a woman all sorts of thoughts--"
Belligerently, Theseus scowled and pushed her back. "None of that,
wench! This curse--tell me about it!"
The girl drew a deep, unhappy breath, "If you must, then--" And, after
a moment's pause: "You know, of course, that Pasiphae is King Minos'
wife; Ariadne's mother?"
"Yes."
"And also that she lusted after the sacred bull of Zeus--"
"--and so gave birth to the monster in the Labyrinth, the Minotaur? Of
course. Who hasn't heard it?"
The maid looked round almost fearfully. "Do you not see, then, Master
Theseus? There's the curse! Ariadne's daughter of a woman who's defied
all the laws of gods and men. Who knows what evil may befall the child?
So, no youth dares even look at Ariadne, no matter how great her
beauty."
Theseus' jaw sagged for a moment. Then he bristled. "It's not because
of my fame, then, my prowess as a lover, that she sent you to bring me
here in secret?"
The maid bowed her head. But from his vantage-point, Burke could see
her hidden smile--quick, minx-like. "She seeks only to escape her
destiny, Master Theseus. In you, hero that you are, she sees one who
might slay the Minotaur and take her away from Crete and the scorn and
loneliness that so long have been her lot here."
"So!" grunted Theseus. "She'd use me, would she! Me, hero of Athens!"
* * * * *
His scowl grew even blacker. Then, abruptly, it faded. Sweeping the
girl up bodily in his arms, he bore her to the nearest couch. "Enough
of this empty talk, wench! We've wasted too much time already on your
precious mistress!"
The couch groaned with their joint weight. Throwing the maid back,
tilting her face up, Theseus strove to kiss her.
But now the girl drew away, struggling in obvious earnest. "No, Master
Theseus, no! We dare not! Ariadne may come at any moment--"
"Let her come!" Athenian pinned maid with hands and body. "Let her see
for herself who I prefer--"
Across the room, a door opened. A slim young girl, proud-faced and
beautiful and poised, stood framed within the entry.
On the couch, the maid gave a little shriek. "Princess Ariadne!"
Frantically, she tried to writhe free of Theseus.
He clutched at her as she spun erect. Cloth ripped as her whole skirt
tore away, leaving her standing well-nigh naked.
The maid's face flamed. Whirling, she darted for the grill-masked
doorway where Burke stood hiding.
It took him off balance; it was that unexpected. Before he could even
get clear, jump back, she dodged behind the grating; crashed into him
full-tilt.
Burke reeled back against the door-frame.
The maid screamed.
Like an echo, Theseus tore away the screening grillwork.
After that, for Burke, there was no choice. Instinctively, he knew that
no matter what the cost, he must gain command of the situation.
Snatching the Smith & Wesson from his waistband, he leveled it at
Theseus. "Stand back, you!"
Apparently the computational translator put words and tone into
language the bull-necked Athenian could understand. He stopped short.
Catching the maid by the shoulder, Burke shoved her, stumbling, over to
join her playmate.
Next, Ariadne, still standing frozen beside the far door:
"You, princess!" Burke clipped tightly. "Over here, on the double!"
The slim girl didn't move a muscle.
Burke snapped, "Come here, I said! Now! Do you hear me?"
Coldly, the great dark eyes took in Burke and his so-different
garments. Then, in a voice edged with scorn, the princess asked, "And
who are you, to command the daughter of Minos in her own chambers?"
Sweat slicked Burke's palms, his forehead. "That doesn't matter. It's
enough that I hold the power of the thunderbolt in my hand here." He
gestured with the Smith & Wesson.
"Indeed?" Now, coolly, Ariadne strolled in his direction. "Perhaps,
then, you're a god; is that it?"
Burke groped. "Perhaps."
"Or more likely, you're just a thief from some far country." The girl
stood very erect before Burke, oval face even lovelier for her anger.
"What brought you to my chambers, dog? Or must I have you flayed alive
to get an answer?"
The trouble with taking command of a situation, Burke decided, was that
you had to be willing to go all out. And he wasn't.
At least, not with this slim young beauty.
Desperately, he tried a final gambit. "You, Theseus! Seize her!"
But now the Athenian's eyes had narrowed. His head came forward, just
a fraction. It had the effect of making his body loom even larger than
before. He looked belligerent and dangerous.
Burke tried again. "Theseus--"
"No."
Without volition, Burke found his finger tightening on the Smith &
Wesson's trigger.
Beside Theseus, the maid whimpered. "Master Theseus--the thunderbolts--"
The Athenian snorted. "He's no god; he's a man. But if he reaches Minos
with a tale of having found me in the Princess Ariadne's quarters, I'll
be a long time dying." He licked thick lips. "No. Better that _he_
should die. Here. Now."
He lunged at Burke.
Leaping aside, Burke thrust a foot between his charging adversary's
legs.
The Athenian lurched wildly, clawing at the air.
Gun high for a quick blow, Burke leaped in close behind him.
Only then, incredibly, the other was whirling on one foot, with all the
grace and skill of a ballet dancer.
Simultaneously, the other foot whipped up, kicking for Burke's groin.
With a desperate effort, Burke caught the blow on his forearms.
But now it was he who'd been feinted off balance. Before he could
recover, a left-handed blow sent him tottering backwards.
Then he hit a couch. His knees hinged. He sprawled belly-up exposed and
helpless.
* * * * *
Like lightning, Theseus seized a great stone jar, a pithoi. Muscles
bulging, with unbelievable strength he swung it high above his head,
poised to dash down on Burke.
Burke jerked his revolver up and fired in one spasmodic movement,
straight at the pithoi.
Gun-thunder echoed through the chamber. The great jar shattered,
cascading slack-jawed Theseus with shards and oil.
Burke rolled from the couch and stumbled to a new defense-point against
the nearest wall.
But one shot had been enough for the Hero of Athens. He still stood
blank-eyed, looking more stupid than ever as he stared in a sort of
numb fascination at the shattered stoneware about his feet.
As for the maid, she'd fainted. And the expression lovely Ariadne now
wore was beyond Burke's power to read.
But already, feet were pounding in the corridor outside. Guards poured
into the room, half-a-dozen of them--great, strapping blacks with
spears and swords and shields.
Six guards ... and only three shots left in the revolver.
Now the Cretan who seemed to be in command of the Negroes looked about
uncertainly. "What happened, princess?" he asked. "Who are these men,
these strangers?"
For a moment, Burke thought, a smile almost flickered at the corners of
Ariadne's mouth.
Then, coolly, she said, "They're strangers to me, too, warrior. I only
know that when I came in, this one"--a gesture to Burke--"was tearing
the clothes from my maid. Then, he swore he'd possess me, also, and
would have, had it not been that this other,"--the gesture was to
Theseus this time--"fought to save me."
The Cretan's nostrils flared. He spat an order to the guards: "This dog
is yours. Slay him!"
Burke's stomach churned. It was all he could do to breathe.
Was this the way his dream must end--here, now, before he'd even
learned the secret he'd come after?
Only then, as the blacks started forward, Ariadne spoke again: "No,
guards! Don't kill him!" And slowly, calculatingly, dark eyes strangely
brooding: "For this man says he's a god, and for such a blasphemer a
quick death is too good.
"So, let him live--to face my father, Minos!"