Theseus and the Minotaur

The legend of the hero Theseus is matched only by the infamy of the beast he slew - the Minotaur. When the city's hour of need was at its greatest, the hero came forth to face the threat beyond the sea...

Theseus discovers the sword
Painting by Antonion Balestra

Long ago, before the days of Hellenic greatness, before even the Trojan War, there sat Aegeus on the throne of Athens, eighth in line since great Cecrops had received the olive from the goddess Athena and founded the city which forever honours her name. As a young man, Aegeus had sought a Queen to secure the still fragile Athenian dynasty, and came to the city of Troezen, a power in the nearby Eastern Peloponnese. Smitten with Aethra, daughter to King Pittheus, the humble Aegeus pledged himself to her. When the night of their betrothal came, and the wedding was consummated, a god's will compelled Aethra out of the Palace and into the night. Drawn far from the walls, her foot touched the glassy waters of the ocean, as she waded to the island of Sphairia. There, embraced in Poseidon's realm, she was embraced too by the god of the watery realm. Thus was her son to have two fathers, one a mortal man, the other a god, a son of Kronos. When Dawn arrived, and the enchantment lifted, Aethra was racked with guilt, and confessed to Aegeus. Distraught, the Athenian King resolved to return to Athens. But before he did, he left a trial for his yet unborn son. Taking his own sword and sandals, he dug a ditch just wide enough, and concealed the regalia within, and sealed them in their earthen tomb below a mighty boulder such that no man who lacked royal or divine blood could lift. Aegeus told Aethra that when the time came, the boy might come to him bearing the sword and sandals, and his birthright would then be his.

Thus was the infant boy, who was gifted the name of Theseus, raised in the land of his mother. With royal blood of both mortal and immortal kind flowing in his veins, a strong young lad he became, the envy of all in his company. Then one day he asked his mother of his father, for rumours had he heard of his mystical parentage. Aethra told the boy of the boulder, and that he should take what he found beneath it to King Aegeus of Athens, and follow his path there. Finding the great stone, in the grip of vines and of moss, Theseus placed his strong hands on either side, and heaved. Royal blood and divine sinew strained, and the pinnacle was torn from the ground. A flash of sunlight shone from below, and there no more tarnished than the day they were lain there, the sword glinted, and the sandals too. Taking them, a warmth in his fingers, Theseus set out on the long road to Athens.

When at last the Acropolis appeared on the horizon, Theseus arrived in a city of misery, for Athens was submit to the will of the wrathful King of Crete - Minos. Long ago, enraged by the assassination of his son at the hands of jealous Athenians, Minos had warred down Athens to the point of capitulation. In desperation, the Athenians begged the Oracle of Delphi for advice. Her words were unsually unambiguous - submit to Minos' wish. The ambassadors of Athens came before the Cretan King, and offered surrender, if he would spare their city. Minos offered them peace, but on one terrible condition. Every nine years, Athens must send to Crete the seven most promising young boys, and the seven most beautiful young girls, where they were to be thrown deep into the labryinthine dungeons of Knossos. Rumours abounded in the courts of the world, terrible stories of unspeakable horror. Long ago, the great architect Daedalus had designed the Labyrinth for one grisly purpose, to contain the monstrous brood of Queen Pasiphae and the Cretan Bull, a creature both man in body and beast in head, the bloodthirsty Minotaur. The Ambassadors balked. The choice that lay between King Aegeus now, either humiliation or destruction. Resigned to his fate, a grieving Aegeus had accepted the cruel tribute that was demanded of him, to sacrifice the few for the survival of the many. The day Theseus arrived in Athens was the third time the emissary of Crete had arrived to exact the tribute, and Athens mourned her third loss.

Theseus, alone happy in a sea of mourning, approached the broken King ahead, holding high the shining sword, and clad in the fine sandals of the House of Erechtheus. A glint of sunlight, the King raises his head. He sees the blade he cast beneath the earth so long ago, and for the first time in many long years,a  ray of happiness pierced his life, for well did he know that there was but one person who could have claimed them. A rare smile breaks his face, as he runs to give his child his first embrace, just as many others around wail as they give their last. Tomorrow will be the day when the ships sail for Crete's dark domain, and the last victims are yet to be chosen to meet their fate. Aegeus welcomed Theseus to the city, and honoured him as a citizen of Athens, and the people cheered, momentarily distracted from the dark day ahead.

Long ago King Aegeus had decreed that there was only one way to decide fairly, and that was a lottery of all the citizens of Athens, with no exceptions. Evening came, and the lottery of death could be delayed no more. Athenian fathers and mothers wept as their children placed their tokens in the vessel. Woe that the King should see his son return on this day, for Theseus too honoured the pact, and placed his own mark within. Tense was the atmosphere, and grievous the anticipation. All men felt as though the gallows awaited, the base dread of every parent incarnate, present, and inevitable. Seven stones were chosen from the girl's ballot box, seven families broken, and the palace groaned beneath their cries. The screams had barely abated when seven more were chosen from the boy's box. Six rolled out, and six mothers screamed, yet when the seventh rolled out, it was the King himself who joined them, for there, unambiguously, was the stone that poor Theseus had cast within. Never had a father known such joy and such terror in one day. Aegeus embraced the prodigal son, but his rules were absolute, and Aegeus was a just ruler. Theseus would be joining his thirteen fellow citizens on their final voyage. But Theseus, no stranger to danger, filled with valour and bravado in equal measure, vowed to slay the monster that lurked below the King's Palace. With such longing, anything to distract him from clear logic, Aegeus dared to trust in him.

Dawn arrived, Light and impending doom both carried in her wake. The ferrymen readied black sails upon the ships, for it seemed a funeral sail. But it was then that Theseus, son of two fathers, who boldly commanded the black be cast aside in favour of white. He vowed before the men and women of Athens that he would conquer the Minotaur, and that the dark days would soon be at an end. Fresh hope filled the hearts of the Athenians, and people dared to wonder. Aegeus took the boy aside and asked him one thing, that should he succeed against the odds, to fly the white sail on his return, so that Athens may know in advance of his fate. Theseus agreed, and father and son embraced for what all around believed the last time. Sails white as the snow on Olympus' lofty heights billowed, and the voyage was begun. Twice before the ferrymen had made this journey, twice before had they steeled themselves against the soft weeping of yore. This time however, a different atmosphere prevailed. Buoyed by the limitless reserve of fortitude that Theseus seemed to possess, the thirteen clung to the one thing Pandora had saved so long ago - hope.

Dolphin Fresco
Image taken from the Queen's Megaron, Palace of Knossos

When at last the ferrymen hurled their ropes on Cretan docks, fear lanced through the Athenians more terrible than ever, for no mere emissary stood to await them, but Minos himself and his daughter, Ariadne. Now Minos was no simpleton nor ignorant fool. News reached his ears from far and wide. Least of all could Crete escape the stories of the twice fathered son. Yet there was one part of the legend the King, himself a son of Zeus and Europa, longed to know. Thus he cried:


                     " You, if Troezenian Aethra bore you to Poseidon the earth shaker,
                      bring this splendid gold ornament on my hand back from the depths
                      of the sea, casting your body boldy down to your father's home... "
                                - KING MINOS CHALLENGES THESEUS

From his finger the King took his sovereign's ring, and cast it into the azure sea, a tiny flash of gold against the ripples of blue. The spirit of Theseus within held no fear, as without a moment's fear, he dived from the Athenian prow into the waves. Out of the murky blackness of the deep a dolphin soared, and beckoned Theseus to follow. Down and down into the foot of the ocean they went, until the halls of Poseidon they reached, bright with the spirit of gods. Shining Nereids played hither and thither, hippocampi wallowing in the surf. There ahead sat enthroned Amphitrite, the consort of the god himself upon the coral throne. There at the foot of it all sat the ring, an insignificant band before the lady of the ocean herself.

High above the Cretans and Athenians sat anxiously, the Minoans smiling, the Athenians tense. But then, the surface of the Ocean was rent asunder, as a powerful hand burst forth from the azure waves, clasping a sovereign's ring. Behind it came the body of Theseus, the twice fathered son if Poseidon. The Athenians shouted with joy, hope sprang anew. Even the Cretans were struck dumb. But Minos, himself heaven born, was not swayed. He saw now a mere equal, yet Theseus was son to the god of the sea, whereas he was son to the god of gods himself. To him he summoned his guards, and bade them cast the Athenians into gaol.

Ariadne gifts the twine to Theseus
Painting by Niccolo Bambini

In the dungeons of Knossos, a city whose beauty concealed a secret spattered with blood, the Athenians were sealed for their final night, one last night Minos granted them before they gazed upon the face of death. But it was not only Minos who had noticed something about Theseus, for in the moment she first saw him, Ariadne, struck by the barb of Cupid, had been drawn to the young prince. Well did she know of the horror with the Labyrinth's walls, and great was her pity for the young Prince. Coming to his cell, she bore a gift, a simple gift which no guard would question. A simple ball of string. Through the bars she passed the invaluable twine, instructing Theseus to tie one end at the entrance to the unconquerable maze, and hold the other at all times, so that he might see the light of day again should he prevail against the odds. She gave to him one further thing, a piece of knowledge great Daedalus himself had once told her. "Go forwards, always down and never left nor right". Theseus, overwhelmed, gave thanks to Ariadne, and swore to come for her if he triumphed. With a smile she withdrew into the night.

Dawn arrived to a blood red sky over the idyllic island of Crete, as the jailer arrived to unlock the cells. Black were the omens, grieving the moods. Just one among the Athenian party looked straight ahead. Theseus, heart pounding, gazed into the dark entrance of the Labyrinth. A torch burned in a bracket in the dark tunnel ahead. Fumbling, his hand found the ball of twine, and wisely did he fix one end upon the bracket. The thirteen followed close behind him, daring not to be without him in the house of death. Bold Theseus led the way, and faithful was he to Ariadne's word, for onward he strode, never a branch in the dark path did he take.

Theseus victorious
Painting by Charles-Edouard Chaise

For an age, or so it seemed, this strange procession took place, the presence of the twice fathered heir to the throne the only thing preventing the thirteen falling into ruinous panic. A shattered human bone came into view from the darkness, a race of pulses. Further in and further down they went, when soon a most nauseating stench rose to their nostrils. The stink of death, and rotting cadavers. The pounding hearts dared to shake the walls, matched only by the unearthly sound of snoring in the darkness beyond, as Theseus bade his kin remain silent, lest their presence be revealed. Further in and further down, as though down the throat of Hell they went now, until a clearing suddenly opened up before them. There, in the heart of the great Labyrinth atop a mound of mangled bones spattered with blood, lay the dealer of so many Athenian deaths. "A mingled form and hybrid birth of monstrous shape... two different natures, man and bull, were joined in him...". The monstrous brood of the Cretan Queen and the Cretan Bull lay stretched out, snoring loudly as it slept, gorged on human flesh. Then the courage of one of them failed, the sight of so many of their kin cruelly slaughtered, and a scream. A heavily lidded taurian eye wrenched open, and snores turned to roars. Theseus moved quick as a flash, and leaped onto the creature's back, swift as an arrow, before it found its feet. Nerves racing, Poseidon and Aegeus' son summoned all his might, divine and royal blood thundering through his veins, and flung his arms around Asterion's mighty neck. More than once the Minotaur's lethal horns near pierced his chest, as the crew of Athens gasped, their own lives on the line now. Tighter was the hero's iron grip, fiercer the monster's rage, wakened from its nine year slumber. Slammed against the great Labyrinth's walls, no other man could have held on, but no other man was Theseus. Seeing the terror on the faces of his kin, he had all the motivation he needed, and Theseus wrenched one last time with all his strength, forcing the creatures on one knee. The Minotaur snorted loudly, and breath left its body. With a loud crunch, the massive form fell upon the bones of its victims, cast down to the Inferno, never again to rise and trouble the realm of men. Blood still pounding in his ears, Theseus did not at first hear the screams all around, but no screams of fear were they, but sheer relief mingled with joy...



United Kingdom

The Life of Theseus:
Plutarch's Lives: Theseus and Romulus, Lycurgus and Numa, Solon and Publicola (Loeb Classical Library): Vol 1
(A series of well written biographies of great men of ancient Greece and Rome, including Theseus, and the most complete and in depth source for him. Fun to read and not at all academic or dull!)

United States

The Life of Theseus:
Plutarch Lives, I, Theseus and Romulus. Lycurgus and Numa. Solon and Publicola (Loeb Classical Library®) (Volume I)
(A series of well written biographies of great men of ancient Greece and Rome, including Theseus, and the most complete and in depth source for him. Fun to read and not at all academic or dull!)

The Trident and the Spear

Every city which rises to greatness does so from humble beginnings. So high can a nation rise that so mythic can her origins seem. Every great thing, be it a nation, a person, even an idea, has to start somewhere. To our ancestors of old, greatness was a sure sign of favour from on high. For the hand of a god must surely have been at work when one of the most influential cities in human history, for better or worse, was born.

Athena
2nd century AD Roman bust  from Velletri

The Olympians had fought a terrible fight for mastery of the Cosmos. Their forefathers and creators of the Universe, the Titans had not yielded their divine grip easily. After so great a struggle, the harmony of the World was worth more than anything to the gods, even to Zeus the Thunderer, King of the gods and Lord of the Sky. Now fidelity was one thing that Zeus the Thunderer knew not, and many a hero of the ancient world owed his existence to the philandering adventures of the god of gods. It was little surprise therefore, when Zeus undertook a clandestine affair with the beautiful Titaness Metis. However, when the Fates prophesied that the child of Metis would be mightier in spirit and wiser in understanding than its father, Zeus the father of gods and men was convulsed with fear. Long ago, his father Kronos had heard similar words, with dire consequences. The Heavens had groaned under the Titanomachy, and could ill afford so ruinous a war for a second time. So Zeus the Thunderer decided on a little evil for a greater good. Weaving his divine powers of transfiguration, the shape of Metis he shifted to that of a common fly, and the god swallowed her whole, so that she may never give birth to this legendary child.

Time passed, but troubles did not for the Lord of Olympus. As the days grew late, a terrible pain struck the god inside. What began as an ache inside his royal head, soon swelled to a pounding agony that would not die. Time soon came when even the Thunder himself, conqueror of Typhon and Heaven could bear the torment no more, and summoned to his side Hephaestus, the god of the forge and weaver of fire. "Take up thy hammer and rend asunder this head that pains me so, lest this torture afflict me for all the ages to come", said Zeus. The lame god of the smith stood dumbstruck by this command - split open the head of Zeus? But the father of gods and men was inexorable, and irresistible. So Hephaestus took up his hammer and tongs, and with a mighty strike, he breached the Divine Crown. A roar of thunder and a flash of light rolled over the skies. Then, in a blur of speed an apparition appeared. From the fissures in the skull of Zeus there leapt a figure, strongly built yet distinctly feminine, agile yet fully armed, wise yet ready for war, a new goddess entered the cosmos. Athena, goddess of wisdom, mistress of stratagem, lady of the spear and patron of heroes.

Around this time, far below on the mortal plain, the tribes of Attica came together under their King, Cecrops. Born of Mother Earth herself, Cecrops taught the Atticans the still young arts of reading and writing, of literature, of burial and brought the institution of marriage to the tribesmen. Civilisation as we know it, was being born. Soon, however, the simple villages of Attica groaned under the advance of the people, and a new home was needed. Under the leadership of their vibrant King, the Atticans set off through the harsh landscape of Attica, where open plains give way to beaten rock. After a time they came to a place in the West, largely flat yet punctuated by towering pinnacles of rock. The sea lay yonder, yet wise Cecrops knew that to build their new city on the shore itself was too dangerous in an era of rampant piracy on the high seas. Away from the shore then, yet near enough for trade, the people set foot upon a mount with a commanding position over the plain and the sea. Here would be founded their new city, and grandiose would it be. But every new city needed a patron god, but who?

Poseidon
The Artemision Bronze

Word reached Olympus of the gathering under Cecrops upon the Mount. Just then,  the Fates declared that the city that would be founded upon that place would rise to a greatness rivalling the best of all Greece. Glory and honour would walk hand in hand to whomsoever should become her patron. A frenzy gripped Mount Olympus, and the all the divine array wondered. Two among them immediately took the floor. Athena, ever ready with sharpened word and thought, leapt to her newborn feet. But Poseidon, god of the sea, shaker of the earth and lord of horses, bowed to few. Even Zeus himself, King of all gods kept a close eye on his ambitious younger brother, for most vexed was Poseidon when he lost the Heavens in the division of the cosmos. Torn between loyalty to his brother, however unruly, and care for his daughter, despite the danger she posed as his successor, Zeus decreed that the people should decide the patron of their city. Immediately, the two deities spirited down from Olympus and made landfall upon the mountain. With a blinding flash and a roar of thunder, the people cowered at the sight of the divine array. Fearful lest they choose one over the other, the people knew not what to do. Cecrops their King, however, decided. Turning to his gods, he declared that the patronage of the new city would belong to the one who presented the greatest gift to it. Poseidon and Athena, uncle and niece, eyed each other, and readied their contest.

The Sea of Olives, Delphi
Photograph taken by the author

Both god and goddess, stood aside the towering pinnacles of the Acropolis, poised for the prize of glory. Poseidon, shaker of the Earth, took the first move. Raising his mighty Trident high into the air, with a rush of godly strength he plunged the three blades into the mountain side. A deafening rumble rippled across the Earth, and the people were thrown to the ground, terrified. There, where the central prong penetrated the summit (a place today commemorated by the Erechtheion), the wounded rock spat forth a spring of water thick with brine. The Emperor of all Oceans granted to the people the gift of the sea itself, and the assurance that one day they would master it. A fabulous gift indeed. Next the virgin goddess stepped forth. The eyes of Athena looked into the souls of all mortals present, and she senses their hopes and fears. Confident, and unyielding, the daughter of Zeus took up her spear and flung it into the mount. The people watched, entranced, for before their eyes the lance began to shift. The wooden shaft lengthened and broadened, from the blade branches sprang forth, rich with the bounty of its dark fruit. To the people Athena gave the gift of the humble olive tree. Poseidon looked on, bemused and anxious.

Athens at her height
Painting by Leo von Klenze

The primordial Athenians looked on the lowly sprig with wonder and amazement, as the goddess instilled some of her divine wisdom in their minds. Cecrops beckoned his people round to cast their vote. Poseidon's gift was mighty indeed, as was his promise. Mastery of the Ocean? 'Tis the dream of empires! A great destiny had been given to them. But that all looked a long way off to the primitive people, as they looked to and fro, and saw naught but barren rock. One citizen splashed some of the water over his face, and recoiled at its salty taste. The people turned to the sapling, Athena's gift. One fellow took a blackened grape from its boughs, and crushed it in his hands, and oil splashed across his palm. Into his mouth he tossed the olive and pleasing was its taste. Seeing the thick and robust trunk too, he saw the greatness of Athena's gift. Poseidon had given them a taste of great nations, but Athena had given them a source of food, of wood and oil, and something they could trade with others. The people sank to their knees with joy, and hurled themselves at the foot of Athena, daughter of Zeus and maiden of Olympus. Poseidon, god of the seas, was infuriated, but his niece had won the day. Cecrops declared Athena the one true patron of their new city. He declared that this place, the Acropolis, would ever be sacred to her. He declared too, that in her honour the city would be named. To the roar of approval from the first Athenians, he named the city. Athens, the glory of Athena...



United Kingdom

The Library of Mythology:
Library of Mythology
(A vast collection of the myths of old Greece, written in ancient times, and a great intro)

United States

The Library of Mythology:
Library of Mythology
(A vast collection of the myths of old Greece, written in ancient times, and a great intro)

Icarus

A long time ago, there lived an eccentric but brilliant inventor in the city of Athens. His name was Daedalus, and his was a destiny of immortality, but hand in hand walked tragedy. Renowned far and wide for his mastery of craftsmanship and design, it was not long before his great name spread far beyond the borders of Attica. Delighted and humbled by success, when word arrived one day that he had been commissioned by the great King Minos of Crete, he hardly dared refuse. It was to be a decision that would change his life forever...

The Island of Crete
Photograph taken from the NASA Earth Observatory

King Minos ruled over a powerful nation, mastery of the seas and the envy of Greece was his.But he concealed a dark secret. A dreadful abomination had been born unto his family, a creature that had thus far been death to all who came in its way. This affliction had come about not long earlier, for , drunk on glory and the riches of his nation, Minos vowed to sacrifice to the gods the first thing which came from the Ocean. Hearing his words, Poseidon the Earthshaker and master of the Ocean, sent forth a shining white bull from the depths. Stunned, and entranced by the beats majesty, Minos had second thoughts. Forgetting his promise, the King kept the bull for his own, and sacrificed a lesser creature in its place. But the eyes of a god are always watching. Angered by his attempt at deception, Poseidon sent a terrible curse to drive madness into the monster's brain, all docility and peace banished from its raging mind. Worse still, the god placed a curse upon Queen Pasiphae, wife of the King, and inspired within her an unyielding lust for the monster. Minos was distraught at the destruction which was dealt to his lands. Only mighty Heracles was able to humble the Cretan Bull, and spirit it away to distant lands, but the beast left a legacy more horrific than Minos could ever have imagined. Powerless against her retribution, his wife gave birth to the monster's blighted seed. From the impious union was born a bloodthirsty fusion of man and bull - the Minotaur. Rumour began to spread on Crete of the princess's ghastly deed, and the King desperately tried to cover his family's dark secret, and thus turned to Daedalus.


Coming before the King, Daedalus heard Minos' terrible plight and dilemma. He could not slay the creature, as it was his own blood, and the murder of a family member was a crime against the gods that would pollute his royal line forever. He could not let it walk free either, lest his terrible shame be common knowledge. It was cunning Daedalus who concocted the solution. He devised an incredible feat of engineering within which to house the beast, "where rooms within themselves encircled lye, with various windings, to deceive the eye". The Great Labyrinth, upon its completion, defied all else that had come before it. Indeed, it was said that so intricate and outlandishly complex was the warren of passages and tunnels, even Daedalus himself only discovered the way out with great difficulty. Ever after, anything complicated has been called labyrinthine in English. Deep into the bowels of the darkness was the Minotaur cast, by his own grandfather, there forever to dwell and languish away from the touch of Apollo's rays (his fate is another story, and will come in a later post).

Daedalus and Icarus
Painting by Frederic Leighton 

Time passed on the idyllic island, yet Daedalus began to long for the home he had not seen for so long, to raise his young son, Icarus, in peace. But cruel Minos had other plans. Such was his shame and furious sensitivity at his Queen's unholy brood, and his envy of Daedalus' talents, he ordered both the inventor and his son thrown into the high tower over the Royal Palace, lest the secrets of the Labyrinth ever became public. The mighty Cretan navy patrolled the sea lanes around the island, and ruled the waves. Escape by sea was impossible. The Minoans ruled the trade routes by land. Escape by land was impossible. Cunning Daedalus knew there was but one choice, if they should ever hope to see home again, and it lay above:


  " In tedious exile now too long detain'd,
    Daedalus languish'd for his native land,
    The sea foreclos'd his flight; yet thus he said:
    Tho' Earth and water in subjection laid,
    O cruel Minos, thy dominion be,
    We'll go thro' air; for sure the air is free... "
         - DAEDALUS HAS THE IDEA


So began his most ingenious work. Taking the tools that were cast in gaol with him, and using all materials he could find, he began to fire the bellows, and sweat dripped from his brow. High was the tower, refuge only to the birds of the sea as company to the illustrious duo, and Daedalus plucked the quills from their feathered forms, letting not one go to waste. Each one he honed and perfected, and arrayed them in rows, rising by degree from end to end. Through the middle he laid a twine of flax, and by wax was the plumage held fast. Life went on far below, convinced as Minos was that his secret was safe, as all the while the wings took majestic shape. All the while youthful Icarus, not yet wizened to the designs of men, idly played with the feathers and toyed with the wax, much to the father's amusement and frustration.


Then, at long last, the day of reckoning arrived. The final stroke of Daedalus' hammer fell upon the brazen wings, and together did they neatly fit. Four had he made, two for the father and two for the son. With steady hand he lashed them to his back, and took his first flap. With flawless balance he rose into the air, and for the first time did man know the sensation of flight. But purpose was not forgotten by the old master, and he at once bade young Icarus hurry. Chance, which seldom comes twice, was now to be seized. Thus did the father bid the son:


                                          " My boy, take care,
                                            To wing your course along the middle air;
                                            If low, the surges wet your flagging plumes;
                                            If high, the sun the melting wax consumes:
                                            Steer between both: nor to the northern skies,
                                            Nor south to Orion turn your giddy eyes;
                                            But follow me... "
                                                 - DAEDALUS WARNS ICARUS

Icarus Fallen
Painting by  Herbert James Draper

So with concern and fear for the audacious breakout, Daedalus fixed a pair of wings to his son, tears rolling down his cheek. All ready now, he embraced his son,knowing not it would be his last. Turning now to vast window, father and son took position, and together leapt into the azure yonder.With the joy of the winds in his hair, young Icarus soared triumphantly to the domain of the clouds, excitement fused with the thrill of adventure of the god's own land. Daedalus lead them on, as Crete fell far behind. The isles of the sea punctuated the haze far below, Delos, Paros on the left, Samos and Lebynthos on the right. For an age the air was their abode, but it was then that the warnings of his father began to desert headstrong Icarus. With the world at his feet, to the Heavens he now aspired, pride rising higher than his wings. Thundering forth, poor Daedalus was left behind. The father called out to the son, but upon deaf ears his cries fell. To the dominion of Helios Icarus set his sights, and to the burning orb he spurred his wings. So great his hubris, so hungry his eyes, he thought nothing of the rising heat. His body withstood the burning glow, but not all things could. The quills which bore him flight were bound in wax, and the radiant sun began to undo the work of the master. Softer and softer did it run, as Icarus soared on and on. Soon no more could it take, and vaporised it soon became. The eyes of Icarus widened in terror, as he saw his folly laid bare before him, but too late. Feathers tumbling all around, the haughty boy lingered for a moment in silence before with a deafening scream he plummeted from the Heavens. For an age the foolish boy fell, until there on the crest of the ocean he met his fate, in waters which henceforth bore his name.

Poor Daedalus meanwhile, desperate to find his son, called out in vain, for father he was no more. "Ho Icarus! Where are you? As he flies; Where shall I seek my boy? He cries again, and saw his feathers scatter'd on the main...". Far below on the calm surface of the water he spied the feathers his own hands had bound. Feeling the warmth of the sun high above, he knew at once. Grief insurmountable gripped poor Daedalus, and against his own craft he cursed, and the island below he named Icaria in his son's memory. For an age it seemed, the great inventor mourned on high, hoping on hope it was not true, All had been in vain, his great breakout for naught. Against King Minos he raged, whose cruelty had forced him into a cage.

Fatigued at last from wearying flight, on the fertile Sicilian pastures he came to rest, where Cocalus, King of that realm, gave the great man sanctuary, for great was the name of the Daedalus, and great the esteem in which he was held. Hanging up his wings for the last time, the inventor prayed to Apollo, offering his gift of flight. For a time Apollo granted him peace, until disturbing news arrived. Minos, enraged that his quarry had escaped his clutches, had set out in hot pursuit, hunting them down through all the kingdoms of Greece. But the bitter Cretan King knew well that Daedalus was no fool, and would not remain in plain sight, and enacted a cunning scheme to lure him out. In the court of each city he presented a dilemma. Brandishing from his robes a spiralled seashell, he promised great reward to the one who could run a string through its heart without breaking it apart. Many times he presented his challenge, and every time his hosts failed.

Then one day to Cocalus a messenger of the heartless King approached, and once more did he produce the shell. Cocalus, oblivious to the identity of the stranger's master, summoned his newfound friend. The wizened old inventor, marvelling at the task, yet unaware of its creator, saw at once a plan. Setting a drop of honey at one end, he released an ant at the other, and round the creature a string tied. The tiny insect soldiered through the shell, fixed on the honey, bearing the string with it in tow. Marvelling at the wisdom of Daedalus, Cocalus proudly presented the result to the messenger, who at once alerted his King. Well did Minos know that only Daedalus could have solved this riddle, and demanded at once that Cocalus hand him over. Seeing the malevolent nature of Minos, and the humble genius of Daedalus, however, Cocalus made his choice. He agreed, though persuaded Minos to bathe first. It would prove to be the Cretan's last. Some say the agents of the Sicilian slew the King as he bathed, others that the inventor boiled the water. For certain, however, Daedalus was at last avenged, and his nemesis ended. Some small measure of peace was at last his...


United Kingdom

Penguin Classics
Metamorphoses: A New Verse Translation (Penguin Classics)
(A version which favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

Oxford World's Classics
Metamorphoses (Oxford World's Classics)
(A version which goes all out on archaic high poetry)

United States

Penguin Classics
Metamorphoses (Penguin Classics)
(A version which favours ease of understanding than high poetry)

Oxford World's Classics
Metamorphoses (Oxford World's Classics)
(A version which goes all out on archaic high poetry)