Dion: His Life and Mine (5 page)

“But it’s a lie!”

“A lie which has served my father well; now let it serve you well. Let the monster be immortal and let’s keep the real Aster to ourselves.” Theo reluctantly agreed. I was my father’s daughter after all and knew the power of propaganda.

Freedom. Only those who haven’t had it can understand the true beauty of the word. Those five days sailing to Naxos were among the happiest days of my life. I was free. I had been trapped on land, caged in by people, imprisoned by my father’s doctrines. On that ship with fifty sailors, surrounded by sea, I tasted liberty for the first time. Hope and happiness go hand in hand. The herb pouch Bris had given me, before she died, stayed close to my chest, filled with the herbs I had collected. Despite the infusions of camomile I had used to suppress my grief, it was almost full. I had no need of them. I almost believed I would never need them again. That’s how deluded infatuation makes you.

In the beginning, my bond with Theo was strengthened by our grief and guilt over Aster’s death. We spent hours speculating and questioning. How had the twine been moved to send Theo on that fatal and wild goose chase? Who had told the soldiers to go to Aster’s rooms?

“Daedalus knew about everything,” Theo said. “The twine was his, after all.” I, on the other hand, wouldn’t entertain the idea of Daedalus’s disloyalty.

“Why would he bother to help us, only to betray us?” I countered.

“Humm,” Theo said, not convinced. But I was and later so was Theo, when the world learnt of Daedalus’s fate.

“Who else knows the labyrinth as well as you and Daedalus?” The answer to that was easy.

“My sister.”

“Phaedra!”  Now it was Theo’s turn to be dismissive. I didn’t push it. Even I couldn’t believe Phaedra would have risked Aster’s life. Whatever it had been, her plan hadn’t worked. She was still on Crete, while I was on the ship, sailing to a new life with Theo.

On Crete, Theo had talked of nothing but Athens. On the ship, his talk was of his childhood home of Troezen.

“You’re not the only one whose mother has been made a scapegoat.”

Theo’s mother suffered the same condition as I did - being a woman. Unlike me, who had brothers, Aethra had none.

“My grandfather didn’t want to see her married in case his son-in-law usurped him. He still needed an heir, so my mother was forced to make visiting princes very comfortable.”

“That’s terrible!” I interjected, “at least my father only expected me to wear a low-cut dress when I handed round the nuts.”

“Then my father came along,” Theo continued. “Another prime candidate, but he made the mistake of falling in love with my mother and they decided to elope.”

“So what went wrong?”

“My grandfather guessed what they were planning. He sent word to my father that my uncle and cousin were attacking Athens. My father rushed off immediately. He spent the next six years making sure neither they, nor their armies, set foot in Athens, by which point I was born, my mother died and my father remarried.”

“Families,” I said. Theo smiled sadly and nodded.

The longer I spent with Theo, the fonder of him I became. He was good to his men, gave orders but did his share of the work. But I began to notice something wasn’t right. Theo would give a man an order and then a couple of minutes later give the same man the same order again. The men, devoted to their master, never made a comment and at first I thought I was going mad. Then, Theo started to do the same to me. He’d start telling me stories he had just finished or ask me questions I had just answered. Once, I walked into our cabin and Theo just stared at me, as if I were a complete stranger, before recognition swept over him and relief over me. That night, I cornered Xarius, Theo’s second-in-command, and asked him what was wrong with his captain.

“Nothing,” Xarius tried to reassure me. I wasn’t very convinced. I had seen the glances that had been exchanged between Xarius and the other men, whenever I gave Theo some herbs from my pouch. At first, I put it down to old seafaring fears of females on board ship. I was even less convinced by Xarius’s assurance when Theo conveniently forgot me, a week later, on Naxos. It took the death of his beloved father to convince me that Theo really did have a bad memory and that leaving me wasn’t done out of malice. Still, I don’t know which is more insulting: being dumped or being forgotten.

The night after I had introduced Theo to Aster, I came across Phaedra in the garden.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said. “Have you seen Theo?” I had, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. Instead, I asked her why.

“A message has come from his father.” She told me haughtily.

“Well if I see him, I’ll tell him,” I said.

“No need, just tell him I’m looking for him,” Phaedra said guardedly.

Her air of superiority was pointless. Theo showed me the message the next day; as he needed my help. The message, written in a shaking hand, wished Theo well. It told him, in a state of despair, how much his father missed him and feared for his life, so much so that he was going to wait on the cliff over-looking the sea to watch for Theo’s return. If the news was good and Theo was alive, could he change the colours of his sails from normal sombre black to hope-filled white? His father couldn’t wait for the ship to dock and to learn of his son’s safety.

“My white sails need mending,” Theo told me when I had finished reading the note.

“No problem,” I said and took them to the best seamstress in town and paid extra for her discretion. When they were finished, I gave them to Aster who packed them with his things. In our hurry to escape my father’s soldiers and the despair that our plan had been interrupted, we forgot to take them. When I remembered, the day after, Theo told me not to worry as we could get sails on Naxos. When I began to realise that Theo had been cursed with a terrible memory, I took it upon myself to be in charge of the sails. As soon as we dropped anchor at Naxos, I set off. One bag of gold dropped the waiting time from twenty-eight days to fourteen; and when the vendor realised they were for Theo, he made them top priority and promised they would be done in five.

Of course, by then everyone knew who Theo was. Everywhere we went on the island he was mobbed by screaming girls, waiting for his autograph and fainting if he so much as smiled at them. Every press agent on the island vied for the first exclusive. At first, Theo insisted he was just simply
holidaying on Naxos.
Finally, he agreed to tell his story, in the hope of getting some privacy. We practised the interview over and over, until it became more real to us than the reality and my brother more monstrous than the monster my father ever created.

“My next guest is a remarkable young man who is on his way back home to Athens, after an amazing feat of heroism. Luckily for us, he decided to take a break on our tiny island! Please give a warm welcome to Theseus, son of King Aegeus of Athens.” The band played the tune of a famous Athenian song, which was quickly drowned out by clapping and cheering as Theo descended the stairs, under the glare of a spotlight.

Practice makes perfect and Theo played his part to perfection, describing, in lavish detail, the great vastness of The Labyrinth, its nooks, crannies and dead-ends. How the noise of the monster echoed through each corridor, how eventually he turned a corner and saw the monster gnawing on some old bones.

“But what did he actually look like?” Mikos, the chat show host, pressed him.

“He was gynormous, his body was that of a young, athletic man, but the head upon the shoulders …” At this, Theo paused and shuddered slightly and the audience fell silent. “The head was grotesque, as if a man’s head had been cut off and in its place someone had stuck the head of an angry, ugly, blood-thirsty bull. It had puss-filled tumours and hair growing out of its ears!” The audience gasped; I winced. This was close, too close to the truth for my liking, and not what we had practised. Especially the bit about the ear hair which, curiously, considering the rest of his deformities, was something that Aster had been particularly sensitive about. Maybe it was something he felt he could control, which made him so fastidious about it. I had spent endless hours plucking them out for him while he tried not to flinch. After Andro died he hadn’t been so bothered, but when Theo arrived my services and tweezers had been required again.

“Don’t ask me to describe it further,” continued Theo, getting back to the script. “It was a sight no man should ever see, nor any lady, have to imagine.” Now the camera focused on Theo’s exquisite white smile and women all over Naxos swooned. The interview started to draw to a close, but Mikos had one more question.

“I have it on good authority that you had some very welcome and beautiful assistance?”

“Yes, the daughter of King Minos gave me some twine so that I could unravel it and use it to guide my way back, through the tunnels.”

“And is the daughter of King Minos with you now?”

“Yes, the daughter of King Minos is with me now,” said Theo carefully.

“So you butchered the beast and made away with the girl - a fitting prize for a hero and a high standard for every young man to live up to! Join me next week when my guests include the rock-grunge god Dion, lead singer of
Libertia,
who causes a stir wherever he goes. It should be an entertaining evening!” I’d stopped listening. I was thinking about the fact that Theo hadn’t mentioned my name.

Five days on Naxos suited us. At first, Theo and I lived the honeymoon dream, walking hand in hand along the sand, waves lapping at our feet; that was when Theo wasn’t being mobbed by his adoring fans. Still, it gave me good training as the wife of a press-hounded, not to mention savaged, husband. At least the paparazzi on Naxos were a) complimentary and b) not interested in me. Posing for a photograph, flashing a dazzling smile as I stood, dutifully, next to Theo was all I was required to do. Surely such a happy couple would have a happy ending? Tell that to my mother!

We’d picnic at the foot of Mount Za, lying on our backs, looking up at the clear blue sky. Our evenings were spent talking, over candlelit dinners in beachside estiatorias, trying the local specialities, rich
icaloyeros
or sumptuous
icefalopodia
. We’d watch the sun set, looking forward to it rising again so we could spend another glorious day together. Yes, I was loved-up. Looking back now, it was sickening. What I was too naïve to realise was that I was having the honeymoon before the wedding, never a good plan. But I was young, emotional and thought I had everything, or was going to get everything, I’d ever wanted.

Theo told me that he intended to leave Naxos, the day after he gave his exclusive. There had been a storm on Naxos, before we arrived, so the phone lines were down, severing all contact with the mainland. The programme wouldn’t air for a week, and on the mainland, not until the following one. So, due to the communication problems, the news of his survival wouldn’t have reached Athens and every second must have been agony for his father. So, after the interview I went to get the white sails from the vendor (who didn’t bother to hide his disappointment that Theo hadn’t collected them personally, but brightened when I gave him Theo’s autograph. I had perfected it by then).

That night I gave the sails to Theo. He had been sent a crate of Eastern drink by an admirer. The symbols on the box reminded me of something, but I couldn’t think what. It wasn’t to my taste, but Theo drank the whole lot. We slept next to each other for the last time, on the beach, under the stars with the sails covering us. The next day I woke up shivering in the early morning chill. The sails were gone and so was Theo.

Although he took the white sails with him, Theo’s hasty abandonment of me on Naxos meant that I couldn’t remind him to change them, and he sailed home with the customary black ones. Fitting his reliable reputation, Aegeus was true to his word and was watching from the cliff top, where he had promised Theo he would be waiting. Looking up at the cliff, Theo saw his father and waved to him excitedly. It was no use. Aegeus’s eyes were filled with the black sails and, believing the ship was carrying the remains of his beloved son, old Aegeus jumped into the sea in grief. Somehow this tragedy was blamed on me, a woman scorned and all that. The truth, for what it’s worth, was that I felt desperately sorry, but what could I have done? I had acquired the sails and Theo had taken them. I didn’t expect Theo to leave me. Instead, I woke on Naxos with no Theo, no ship, no food; the only clothes I had were the ones I’d slept in. The remnants of a one night stand, including the prerogative of the dumped - to replay every detail of the night before, to find a clue.

What had I said?

What hadn’t I said?

What had he said?

What hadn’t he said?

Had I laughed at all his jokes too loudly or not enough?

Had I eaten too much?

All the questions led to one word - why?

It took me a few days and half of Bris’s herb pouch to realise that I wasn’t going to get all the answers I wanted. The truth is, you can’t make somebody want you. And if you could, why would you want to? That’s not to say that in those first few days I wouldn’t have busted Theo’s balls, but even those feelings evaporated when I heard about his father. I had bigger troubles on my mind. I had escaped from Crete, only to be marooned on another island.

After a while, the stars began to lose their appeal and I needed to get some money. Five days after Theo left me, I found myself waking up with someone else. The beach was full of revellers waking up to dazzling sunshine which made them regret the night before. My companion, Nyx, woke with a start and with a moan of “Oh Apollo!” fell back on the sand again.

“Good night?” I asked her.

“Yes, but boy do you pay for them in the morning!” I nodded back wisely, although I had no idea. I rifled around in Bris’s herb pouch until I found the dried berries I was looking for and made an infusion from them.

“Here,” I said, passing it to Nyx.

“No, I’m sworn off juice until tonight.” I made her drink it. She fell back to sleep again and woke an hour later, a new woman.

“What was that stuff?” she asked me brightly. I was about to explain when she put her hand up.

“No, don’t bother, I make it a rule not to know what I’ve drunk.”

“Don’t you think that’s what got you into trouble in the first place?”

“Yes,” she replied with a cheeky grin.

We swapped stories. Nyx loyally interjected “bastard” at the appropriate moments, during mine.

“You know there’s an easy way to get some money,” she said when I’d finished. She downed the dregs of her cup and handed it to me.

“This stuff is gold dust,” she continued and gestured around the beach where the other revellers were beginning to crawl back home.

“See you same time tomorrow.” She smiled as she left, “I’ll spread the word”. She jumped up and ran along the beach, laughing and shouting to the disbelief of her nightly companions who were too weak to tell her to “shut the Hades up!”                                  

So my entrepreneurial skills came about purely by accident. But then, isn‘t that how all, who have succumbed to dubious and desperate measures in order to survive, rationalise their antics? All I had was the knowledge of plants Bris had given me. The only gift anyone had ever given me.

By the same time the next day, I had made enough to move off the beach. My customers were from all over Greece and as coins exchanged, so did the news. It was from these interchanges that I learnt about
Theseus’s father
, news closer to home and the tragic ending for another father and son.

When my father discovered I had run away with Theo and that his Minotaur myth had gone up in smoke, he looked around for someone to punish and found Daedalus. He locked the craftsman and his son up in a tower, until he could decide the best way to make an exhibition of his old servant and try to regain some face. However, the inventor was full of resources. Daedalus attracted birds to the tiny windows with crumbs. He then collected their feathers and set about making two sets of wings for his son and himself. He stuck them together with the wax from the few candles my charitable father allowed.

When the wings were finished, father and son attached them to each other and practised. Daedalus made a flight plan. By the position of the sun, he determined which direction his prison was facing and decided it would be best to make for the island of Santorini. It wasn‘t far from Crete, in case their arms grew tired. Once they were away from Crete they would be free to go anywhere.

At the dead of night, with the moon to guide them, father and son flew from their prison window and escaped Crete. They were making good progress and Icarus began to realise that he had a talent for flying. He hadn’t inherited his father’s craft and had always felt inferior because of it. He was envious of the time Daedalus spent with Aster and blamed my poor, deformed but artistically-superior brother for lapping up his rightful inheritance. The realisation that he was finally good at something went straight to his head and he started going higher and higher.

Daedalus worried that his son would use all his energy going vertically instead of horizontally, and shouted to him to stop messing around. But, what young person has ever listened to their parents? Certainly not me, but then Daedalus hadn’t been my father. Icarus ignored him. He was absorbed by his new found skill.

Daedalus felt something hot and sticky on the back of his neck and, horrified, realised that the wax holding Icarus’s wings together was melting. He shouted, this time in terror, but it was too late. As the sun rose further in the sky, Icarus started falling towards the sea. Daedalus watched, helpless, as his only child plunged past him, fell, with a plop like a pebble, and was embraced by the silky waves of the sea below. 

Despite the relish of detail they added, none of my clients knew where Daedalus was now. Some speculated he’d last been sighted on the island of Samos. Wherever he was, he was keeping a low profile. After all, he was a fugitive, with my father on his trail. He wasn’t about to send out change of address cards any time soon.

With little remorse or consideration for a father who, like himself, had lost a beloved son, my father didn’t waste much time sending out the order for Daedalus’s arrest.  One of my clients, who stocked up gossip as if there was about to be a shortage, gave me a newspaper article about Daedalus’s plight and my father’s demands for his capture. I was worried that attention would also turn to me, but thanks to a tan and the sun’s effect on my hair, I had started to look less and less like the photographs which had been taken of me, during my brief spell as a celebrity accessory. As I skimmed the article, I was surprised to find that, not only was my disappearance not given as the reason for Daedalus’s imprisonment, but I wasn’t mentioned at all. It seemed my father was trying to play down a story for the press for once.  Instead, he had made sure that Daedalus’s life was laid bare on
the front page
.

Daedalus was born of high-ranking parentage in Athens, the newspaper reported. This much was true: unlike Theo, Daedalus was Athenian born and bred. Although he had spent twenty years on Crete, his eyes brightened at the mention of his birthplace and he had bombarded Theo with questions. Had Theo seen the view from the Acropolis? Was Anchises’s tavern, in the Agora, still there? Anchises’s wife made the best honey cakes and Anchises could beat anyone at Knuckle Bones, but he was a big cheat! Theo had said that the taverna was still there and that he had lost many a pouch to its owner. Daedalus was thrilled, although a little staggered that the old rogue hadn’t been whisked off to Hades, remarking; “He must have been approaching seventy when I left!”

The article went on to list Daedalus’s many talents in arts and crafts, his skills as an architect and his beautiful statues which were incredibly life-like. This also I could testify to; as children, Andro, Phaedra and I would creep up close to the ones Daedalus made for our home, in order to hear them breathing.