Crete (Knossos)

The Minotaur of legend was a mighty beast with the body of a man and the head of a bull. According to the ancient myths he was the product of an illicit union between Queen Pasiphae of Crete and a beautiful white bull with which she had fallen in love. Myths, of course, can invent all manner of odd tales, however bizarre and unlikely. 

But what if the myth were based on a set of real facts — a young boy with hypertrichosis or “Wolfman’s disease,” whom nobody at court can accept? What if, in a fit of cruel rage, his real father, King Minos, builds a special prison to house him until his death — to keep him out of the glorious court at Knossos? Pasiphae’s coupling with the bull becomes a legend, the only story Minos can accept, for to embrace the boy as his own son is unthinkable. There, in his lonely labyrinth, Asterion, for that is his actual name, meets a young girl, a victim put there by Minos for the Minotaur to “eat.”

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She was thrust into the entrance to my labyrinth as far as the guards dared to come in, for they all fear me—with good reason. The girl was weak and almost unconscious, and she was left, too exhausted even to sob, on the hard unpaved floor of my home. I could hear her breathing. I saw the guards prod her before them and she stumbled, dressed in loose linen rags, into the entranceway. I could see them glancing about them to the right and the left, their weapons at the ready. When they had backed far enough out toward the entrance, they spun around and ran.

Chloe, whose name I did not then know, lay there almost insensible, covered in bruises and small cuts. I felt sorry for the creature, though my life had hardened me terribly and I did not usually feel much for anyone. I looked down at her cringing on the floor. At first, she did not know I was there. When she discovered me she looked up and let out a little gasp. I had my bull’s head on, which tends to frighten people. She pushed herself up against the wall and looked up at me with large and staring eyes. Trickles of blood stained the floor.

I took off my headgear and she was almost instantly curious, less frightened but not really sure what was to become of her. I could see her uncertainty, her fear and misery in her wide-eyed stare.

“Are you going to take off your animal suit, too?” she quavered.

But my “animal suit,” as she put it, was the very reason for my bitter exile in the labyrinth. I was tempted to simply stab her and put an end to her tears and shaking, but I found the sensation of actually speaking with a human rather delightful.

“I cannot take off my suit,” I said, pulling at the long fur that covered my forearms—covers all of me, in fact. “I’m afraid this is just me. I see they have abandoned you to me. Too bad for you.”

After a moment, she quavered out, “Are you going to eat me, then? I am told you eat young virgins, though I am no longer a virgin. Minos has seen to that.”

“And what did you think of Minos?” I asked her.

After a moment, she spluttered out between her cracked and bleeding lips, “I suppose you’re going to kill me anyway, so I’ll just tell you the truth. Your king is a beast! He is a terrible man. . . . . It was vicious and gross. I won’t tell you what he did, for just repeating it will make me sick. So I won’t.” She spat this out with incredible vigor for a girl that, as I could see, had had a very hard time of it. “Now, that’s what I think. So go ahead and kill me! I don’t really need to live in this miserable world any more. Go ahead! Kill me!” These last words she almost whispered, but I could hear a nearly animal viciousness to them that amazed me. I knew then that Chloe would be unlike any girl that had ever been thrust unwilling into my dark domain. Deep within her somewhere was a willingness to fight, regardless of what pain came because of it.

She was a spirited lass though very hard-used and terribly miserable with her body all bruised up and lacerations all over—some still bleeding on my floor. I could see she was weak with hunger and abuse. For whatever reason I did it I don’t know, maybe just because I wanted someone to speak with, so I decided to spare her.


Excerpt from Chapter Three: Chloe One

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Socrates' Wife: Xanthippe Tells Her Own Story (Pending Publication)