Theseus and the Minotaur

On the island of Crete there stood a labyrinth, and no one who walked into it had ever found the way back out. Deep inside that labyrinth lived a monster with the body of a man and the head of a bull. Its name was the Minotaur.

The ancient Greeks told how, every year, the city of Athens had to send fourteen young people to King Minos of Crete, seven young men and seven young women. All of them were taken into the labyrinth for the Minotaur. Each time the day came near, a quiet dread settled over the whole of Athens. It lasted until the very day the ship carrying the fourteen left the harbor.

That year, Prince Theseus asked to be one of the fourteen who would sail to Crete. No one had chosen his name. He stepped forward of his own free will. People crowded around to talk him out of it, saying a prince had no need to risk his life like that. Theseus only answered that as long as the Minotaur lived in that labyrinth, Athens would never know a single day of peace. So he had to go and see the truth of it for himself.

The ship left the harbor to the sound of weeping families. It sailed out to the open sea and drifted for many days under a harsh sun and a salty wind before it reached the shore of Crete. As soon as they set foot on the island, the group was led before King Minos. The king's eyes passed over each trembling face in the line. Only Theseus still stood tall, his eyes fixed straight ahead, never looking away.

Princess Ariadne, the daughter of King Minos, was also there that day. Among the fourteen frightened faces, her gaze rested a long time on Theseus, and her heart stirred without her knowing why. Before Theseus was taken into the labyrinth, Ariadne quietly found her way to his side. Hidden in her hands were a sword and a fine ball of thread.

She told him to tie one end of the thread firmly at the door of the labyrinth as soon as he went in. Then he should let the ball unwind behind him with every step. The sword was for facing the Minotaur. The thread, she said, might be the only thing that could bring him back out. Theseus took both and held them tight. He nodded his thanks, and Ariadne slipped away.

The next morning, the stone door of the labyrinth swung open. Theseus walked in and tied the end of the thread tightly to a slab of stone right at the entrance. Then, step by step, he moved deeper into the darkness, the sword in one hand, the other hand letting the thread run out behind him. Around him, one passage led into another. They wound between walls of rock, crept through low caves, and slipped under vaulted roofs heaped with fallen rubble. Nothing told the paths he had taken apart from the ones he had never walked, except that one fine thread growing longer behind him. Without that thread, Theseus too might have been lost forever in the dark, like so many who had walked in before him.

The deeper he went, the thicker and more stifling the air became, until a heavy, rasping breath echoed from somewhere ahead. Theseus stopped and held his breath to listen. Then the Minotaur appeared in the narrow passage. It was a tall, dark shape, with the body of a man but the head of a fierce bull, and its eyes glinted in the darkness. Theseus gripped his sword tight and stood his ground. He did not take a single step back.

A struggle broke out in the cramped darkness of the labyrinth. The clang of the sword striking stone filled the rocky halls. The Minotaur roared and charged straight at him. Theseus dodged quickly and drew back into a narrow bend, waiting for exactly the right moment to act. The struggle did not last long. Only a few minutes later, the monster sank to the ground, and the whole labyrinth fell into a heavy silence. Theseus stood still in the dark for a long while, catching his breath, his hand still clenched around the hilt of his sword. Then he turned to find his thread again.

He followed the very path the thread had traced, through every turn and every pitch-black hallway. At last a tiny streak of light appeared ahead. It was the door of the labyrinth, where he had tied the end of the thread early that morning. Theseus stepped outside and took a long, deep breath. For the first time in many hours, he could see the sky again.

Once out of the labyrinth, Theseus did not waste a single minute. Ariadne was already waiting there, and she led him at once to the place where his thirteen companions were held. That night, the guards had fallen fast asleep after a heavy bout of drinking. None of them was awake enough to notice the prison door opening, little by little, without a sound. The whole group of fourteen, not one of them missing, ran silently with Ariadne, hand in hand, straight to the harbor, where their ship still lay at anchor.

They boarded the ship that very night and raised the sail before the sky could grow light. A thick darkness covered the sea. The ship slipped quietly right past the warships of King Minos anchored nearby, and no one aboard them ever knew. No alarm sounded. No torch came chasing after them. All fourteen sat still on the deck with Ariadne, and no one dared to speak, until the coast of Crete lay far behind them.

The ship sailed on, farther and farther from the island, its bow pointed straight at a horizon that was still dark. Behind them, Crete grew smaller and smaller, until it was only a dim, silent streak under a sky full of stars. The labyrinth that no one had ever walked out of before had sunk deep into the night, far away. It closed behind the ship like a door shut very softly.