Chapter 3: One Good Deed

Leandros awoke to bright sunlight, blinking as his vision adjusted to the glare, the perfume of flowers filling his nose. He was lying on something soft, the gentle trickle of water reaching his ears, his bleary eyes tracking the wings of a butterfly as it flitted overhead. There was a shadow moving nearby, still too indistinct to make out.

“Am I ... dead?”

“Apparently not.”

The voice was deep, gruff, but oddly feminine. As his sight cleared, he saw the mass of tangled hair and the upswept horns, a distinctly non-human face peering down at him. The bull was standing over him. He sat upright in alarm, then had to steady himself as the motion made him dizzy. His eyes darted from the bull to his surroundings, seeing that he was back beneath the monopteros in the chamber where they had fought. Its domed roof and ornate support pillars enclosed him along with the various scattered belongings that he had seen during his approach, sunlight bleeding in through the light shafts outside, illuminating the green grass and the patches of colorful flowers. He appeared to be lying on a makeshift bed of furs, and his armor had been removed, leaving him wearing only his linen shirt and the leather pteruge that came down over his thighs like a skirt.

He wandered a hand down his leg, finding that the deep cut left by Olysseus’ betrayal had been sealed. There was a painful bruise above it where it looked like a belt had been tightened to stem the bleeding, and the wound had been stitched closed with linen thread, then dressed with bandages that stank of vinegar. It still thrummed with a dull, worrying pain, but he was alive.

“What ... is this?” he mumbled, still trying to get his bearings. He peered up at the beast, slowly putting two and two together. “You saved me?”

“Do you see anyone else?” she replied, extending her long arms as she gestured to their surroundings.

The fact that there was a human voice coming out of that bull’s head was hard to reconcile, and he had to take a moment to collect himself, ensuring that he was indeed awake.

“You can speak?” he asked, reaching up to cradle his head with one hand as he supported himself with another. “Why did you not say something earlier?”

“Would you have laid down your weapons if I had asked politely?” she replied, one of her ovine ears flicking in what might be irritation. “I have tried talking. It does not work.”

Her voice was so powerful – he could almost feel it as much as he could hear it.

“Why did you save my life? I tried to kill you.”

“If you’d prefer, I can finish you off,” she replied with a shrug. She knelt beside him, raising an eyebrow sarcastically as he flinched away from her. She lay the back of her hand against his forehead – it was enormous, covered in a thin layer of black fur. “I feel no fever. The rot may yet set in if you try to exert yourself too much. You must rest if you wish to regain your strength.”

“I don’t understand,” Leandros replied as she rose to her full height, her elongated face seeming to fly away from him. She walked out of the monopteros between two nearby pillars, crouching to tend to a campfire that was burning on the grass just outside. “You tried to kill me in the tunnels – we fought to the death.”

“Is asking obvious questions all that you know how to do?” she replied, embers floating into the air as she stoked the flames. She returned with a clay bowl that was dwarfed by her enormous hands, kneeling at his bedside before offering it to him. He glanced down at the liquid within, seeing that it was some kind of stew – probably rabbit. “Eat.”

His hunger got the better of him – he might have been unconscious for a while – and he took it from her. Their fingers brushed for a moment, and he remarked that her fur was remarkably smooth. The stew was hot, but not so hot that he couldn’t drink it, the bull watching as he downed it in only a few gulps.

“Thank you,” he said, and she nodded. He felt as though he should be heaping his praises on her, considering that she appeared to have saved his life, but the situation was so strange that he wasn’t sure how to proceed. Instead, he just watched her, wide-eyed.

“Perhaps I headbutted you a little too hard,” she grumbled, the ground shaking as she sat down on the stone slabs beside him. “You are not like the others who have come here. You could have killed me in my sleep – driven that spear straight through my throat – but you didn’t. Instead, you woke me to challenge me to single combat. Why?”

“It was the right thing to do,” he replied. “What honor is there in slaughtering a helpless opponent? Nobody sings songs of executioners.”

She tilted that massive head, the long threads of her braided hair falling over her shoulders.

“Is that why you came here? So that people would sing songs about you?”

“I was summoned to Crete by King Minos,” he explained, the bull narrowing her eyes at the mention of the name. “I was told that a terrible beast was to be slain, and I saw it as a chance to prove my worth. One cannot be a hero without heroic deeds.”

“At least you did not come seeking money like the rest,” she said, snorting like a horse in a gesture of displeasure. “What do you think? Am I a terrible monster worthy of being slain?”

“I ... I don’t know what’s happening now,” he replied warily.

“I have learned why I am still breathing,” she continued, ignoring his comment. “I suppose it is only fair that you learn why I didn’t crush your skull when I found you in that tunnel. You showed me mercy, so I did you the same courtesy. Stomping on your head while you were unconscious would have been no different from you slitting my throat while I slept.”

“That explains it,” he muttered. “You are a healer,” he added, nodding to his bandaged leg. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“A friend,” she replied cryptically, dodging the question. What friends could she have down here? Wasn’t she alone? “You can probably guess from my collection that such injuries are an increasingly common occurrence for me.”

He glanced down at her impressive physique, one again remarking that her onyx hide was covered in healed scars whose pink hue stood out starkly against her shiny fur. It looked as though she had been stabbed and cut with every type of weapon made in Greece.

“Do you have a name?” he asked.

“Should a terrible beast not?” she chuckled.

“I just want to know what to call you. I can’t just refer to you as bull.”

“Asteria,” she replied.

“I am Leandros of Kos.”

“I would like to tell you that your reputation precedes you, but news is slow to travel down here,” she replied sarcastically.

“What happened to Olysseus?” he asked.

“The other one that was with you?” she replied. “I don’t know. He was gone before I arrived, and I decided to bring you back here rather than pursue him. You are an exceptionally poor judge of character – did you know that?”

“He was furious when I refused to kill you,” Leandros explained with a sigh. “He crippled me and left me as a distraction to ease his own escape. Olysseus knows the way out!” he added, panic gripping him as his memories came flooding back. “If he finds his way back to the gate and rings the bell before-”

Asteria lay a heavy hand on his chest – almost large enough to span it – and gently pushed him back down onto the furs.

“You can do nothing until you recover your strength. Try to walk anywhere with an injury like that, and it will only split open again.”

“You don’t understand,” he pleaded. He tried to sit up again, but found that it was impossible, his strength inconsequential next to hers. “I left chalk markings on my way into the labyrinth so that I could find my way back. The only thing preventing Olysseus from escaping was that his own markings had long since washed away. He will return to where he found me, and in three days, he can make it to the gate. If he rings the bell before I do, I will be trapped in here forever.”

“If he rings this bell, they will let him out?”

“That’s right,” Leandros replied with a nod. “He’ll lie to them – tell them that you killed me, and I will have no way out.”

“Worry about that later,” Asteria insisted. “Being trapped is better than being dead. Trust me – I know.”

He was in no position to argue, so he lay back, willing his heart to stop racing.

“So ... what are you?” he asked, finding no polite way to phrase the question. “How did you come to be imprisoned here?”

“That depends,” she replied, crossing her muscular arms over her bronze chest piece.

“On what?”

“On what lies Minos told you.”

“I was told that a creature was born of an unnatural union between a woman and a beast,” he replied, Asteria baring her teeth in a snarl. “That the offspring was reared until the age of five while this labyrinth was built, then it was imprisoned inside. Minos has been having prophetic dreams about you escaping and wreaking havoc on Crete, and an oracle confirmed it, so he has been sending sellswords and assassins down here to kill you before that prophecy can come to fruition.”

“That explains why I’ve had to fight off an army of fools over these last months,” she muttered, her long hair bobbing as she shook her head in resignation. “Is that all he told you? I am not surprised that he omitted the most important details.”

“I suspected that he was withholding the truth ever since I set foot in this place,” Leandros replied. “Daedalus told me that it was the beast’s ... your mother who moved the king to construct the labyrinth – that it was her mercy that spared you at birth.”

“But he didn’t tell you who that woman was, did he?”

“Never. I assumed that it was some nameless peasant girl.”

“Queen Pasiphae is my mother,” Asteria replied.

“Then, Olysseus was right,” Leandros marveled as he took a moment to process the information. “The queen really is your mother. Who else would hold enough sway over the King to convince him to build this labyrinth?”

“It was not out of love for me that he built this place,” she continued. “I do not even believe that it was out of love for my mother. I would never have rampaged across Crete eating peasants, but I am his shame – a secret that could topple his kingdom if it were ever revealed. Entombing me alive to spend my days in isolation was his way of protecting that secret. He may also have feared retribution if he dared to kill me. I am his punishment.”

“What do you mean by that?” Leandros pressed. “If Pasiphae was your mother, then who was your father?”

“Rest,” she insisted, rising from her seat beside him. “When you are stronger, perhaps I will tell you more.”

Leandros slept for a time, and when he awoke, Asteria was waiting with another bowl of stew. She sat with him as he ate, watching him intently. It was hard to criticize her curiosity. She had spent her life in isolation – or so he had been told – and she might not have spoken to another person in months or even years. She had mentioned a friend, but he didn’t know her well enough to press her on that yet.

“Sorry,” she muttered, averting her eyes. She must have realized that she was staring. “It has been ... a long time since I have been so close to someone. At least, someone who wasn’t trying to drive a blade into my belly.”

“How many assassins have you fought off?” he asked, pausing to take another sip of the warm liquid. He glanced at her collection of scars again, his eyes wandering down her impressively toned physique, the knitted wounds standing out starkly against her dark fur.

“I lost count,” she replied. “Maybe a dozen. I’m sure there are more who never found their way to me and perished in the labyrinth.”

“I came across at least one,” Leandros replied. “I could see no wounds on his body, so it’s safe to assume that he died of hunger. There were others – criminals or sacrifices, I think. Minos has been sending those condemned to death into the labyrinth as a form of execution. He has also been sacrificing slaves and peasants in the same manner.”

“He thinks that will appease the Gods,” she chuckled bitterly. It was odd how her otherwise bull-like face could convey such human expressions. The more he looked at it, the more familiar and the less jarring it seemed. “All of this death ... just for me. An assassin seeking a bounty is one thing, but sending innocent people in here to die? It’s horrible.”

“Sorry for stabbing you in the leg,” Leandros mumbled into his bowl. Asteria merely shrugged her broad shoulders in response.

“One of many scars that I bear. I want to know more about you,” she added, leaning a little closer. “I have fought many men, but something about you is different. The last man who tried to block one of my blows was crushed beneath his own shield. I’ve never been hit as hard as you hit me. Why?”

“I have some unconventional ancestry of my own,” he began, taking another drink from the clay bowl. “My great-grandfather had a child with a Naiad, which makes me a descendant of Zeus, albeit three generations removed. I have only a little of his blood, but it’s enough to make a difference.”

“You might be dead like the others if not for that.”

“You do kick pretty hard,” he chuckled. “I’ll need a smith to get the dents out of my armor.”

He finished his stew, and she took the bowl from him, placing it on the stone floor of the domed structure.

“It is ... strange, talking to someone again,” she began. “Sometimes, I almost forget what my own voice sounds like.”

“How have you survived down here for all this time?” Leandros asked. “Daedalus told me that you were locked in the labyrinth at no more than five years old. You would have been a child.”

“The labyrinth had everything that I needed,” she replied. “My mother taught me as much as she could before I was taken from her. I was large and fast enough to hunt, and I could feed and clothe myself. I suppose that I was clever, for a child. Truthfully, as much as Minos built this place to be livable, I suspect he always hoped that I would die. That way, he could claim that it was not his doing – that he had done everything in his power to keep me alive.”

“And who taught you to do that?” he asked, gesturing to his bandaged thigh. “You mentioned a friend?”

“Few of those who venture into the labyrinth survive long enough to find me,” she began. “Assassins are at least given meager supplies and a torch, but most lose their way and die in the dark before I ever realize they’re there. A handful have subsisted long enough for me to find them, but they always flee – likely poisoned by Minos’ tales of my barbarity. There was one,” she said, lifting her head towards the ceiling above them as she reminisced. “An old woman – sent into the labyrinth some years ago. When I found her, she was either too old or too weak to flee, and I was able to nurse her back to health. Much like you, when she awoke to find me at her bedside, she understood that I was not to be feared.”

“Who was she?” Leandros asked.

“Her name was Corinna,” Asteria replied. “She was a teacher and a healer who had been kept as a slave by one of Crete’s noble families so that she might tutor their children. She offended her master at one point or another and was sent into the labyrinth as a sacrifice. I’m sure that would appease the Gods,” she added, lifting a bovine lip in a sneer. “A frail, defenseless old woman. She did not live long, but she taught me much in the little time we had together. Corinna was my first real friend.”

“Then ... it was you?” Leandros asked, Asteria cocking her head at him. “I came across a tomb during my explorations, and there, I found the body of a woman lying upon a pedestal beneath a statue of Zeus. She had been laid to rest, and someone had been bringing her flowers. Was that Corinna?”