Prologue
Often, with the passage of time, history tends to forget those who made a difference on the sidelines. Scholars focus on the heroes—the powerful—glorifying them and putting them on a pedestal that makes them seem infallible at times. Yet, in history’s forgetfulness, they leave out very important players in the stories.
Herein lies the rather unfortunate tales of the one known as Cletus. It seemed the Fates, in their infinite wisdom, grew bored when determining the life Cletus would lead and decided to, for lack of better words, “spice it up” a bit (I do believe someone said those were their exact words, though how this person knows this is beyond me). This record accounts the numerous events the stars guided him towards, and the misery that befell him at every turn.
Chapter 1: Cletus Goes to Crete
The great ball of fire in the sky was burning so fiercely on that day that Cletus had to stop many times and wipe the sweat from his brow. It was so intense, in fact, that he half expected Poseidon himself to show up and declare him a new large body of water and, therefore, was to be added to his watery kingdom. He laughed–perhaps from mere heat exhaustion–at the absurdity of this thought, then cursed Helios for making the thing so hot.
Despite the miserable state he found himself in, he continued his work in the field. He looked around him at the other farmers toiling away at the barley, and wondered what they were thinking about. They looked, he presumed, completely occupied and focused on their task at hand. His mind, however, drifted to the common fantasy he frequently dreamt up: Cletus the adventurer. Cletus, the brave warrior who had slain many monsters, fought in many wars, and been with many women. It was not long before a smile crept across his face, distracting him from the endless stream of sweat that poured from his brow.
Finally, Apollo took mercy on him and pulled the sun lower into the sky, and he began to finish his task for the day. He said a quick prayer thanking the sun god as he hobbled home, feet aching and blistering, his own meager sack of barley as payment in tow.
“Honey, I’m home,” he said to his empty house as he burst through the door. It was a sorry sight, indeed, and even in all his years of living in that tiny abode, it made him cringe at how quaint it was: it was a single room with a small cot that consisted of a straw pillow and mattress shoved into the far corner, a thin veneer of perpetual dust coating every inch of the place, and several irreparable holes in his thatch roof. A small, rough-hewn table (it was a gift from a neighbor who was an amateur carpenter) sat in the center of the room, and a small fireplace was attached to the wall on the other side. The far side of the room housed his wash basin, where he would soak and (attempt to) wash his clothes.
He sighed, dropped his bag of fresh barley, which sent up a dust cloud, and turned his attention to his usual dinner: porridge.
Cletus lit a fire and sat by the pot, adding the ingredients “just like mama taught” him, and before long, it turned into a boiling sludge, which he stirred slowly. “I bet this beats ambrosia,” he grumbled.
When his kingly meal was prepared, he sat at his table and choked down half of his porridge when the knock at the door nearly caused him to fall off his stool. He rose, picked up his candle, and, panic rising in his chest, managed to mumble, “Who’s there?”
No answer came, just more knocking. Cletus glanced about, unable to speak. It quickly turned into a violent pounding. He backed away, almost falling on his table as his door came crashing down, Athenian soldiers pouring into the small room. A very official-looking man strode through the soldiers to the front. He stood too straight, his chin high, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, and his helmet tucked under his other arm. The man scanned the room before his eyes fell to the trembling leaf that was Cletus.
“Be you Cletus?” he demanded in a forced, noble-sounding voice. He waited a full two seconds before shouting, “Speak, man!”
Cletus nodded, trembling fiercely.
The man’s eyes bore into Cletus fiercely before he turned and muttered something to a soldier near him, then let out a heavy sigh. He turned back to Cletus. “You’ll have to do. Come with us.” And with that, he turned on his heel and marched out, the soldiers following close behind. Two remained and grabbed Cletus roughly by the arms. He let out a cry as his legs gave way. His head whirled around in panic, and his heart felt as if it would explode from his chest.
“What’s going on?” he finally managed, his voice coming out in a squeak.
The soldiers said nothing as they dragged him forth to the cart hitched to one of their horses, which contained several other young men. A realization came to Cletus, but he found himself in denial. Surely the rumors weren’t true. And if they were, why would he, of all Grecian men, be chosen?
Many of the other men would not meet his eyes as he was roughly thrown into the cart. The man he landed beside (who looked to be far older than the rest of the passengers) gave him a sad smile.
“Greetings, friend,” he said. “Welcome to the wagon.”
Cletus could hardly keep his mind from reeling. “What in Hades is happening? Why am I here?”
The man’s smile became even sadder. “My friend, we’ve been chosen. You did not receive your letter?”
Cletus shook his head frantically, unable to subdue his immense fear.
“We four,” the man gestured about him, “have been chosen by King Aegeus to be this year’s tributes. We’re being sent to Crete. There are three more of us, I imagine.”
The soldier driving the cart had apparently been eavesdropping, as he leaned back and interjected, “One of the king’s chosen had an… accident… at his father’s lumber mill, so we had to improvise and find somebody else around this area.” He jerked his thumb towards Cletus and added, “So we were told to fetch you.”
“There has to have been a mistake,” Cletus pleaded. “I’m-I’m not a suitable tribute! I’m too old! And-and I’m j-just a farmer! I don’t even have a family!”
His pleading seemed to fall on deaf ears, as the soldier did not so much as turn his head. The kind man who had greeted Cletus continued to smile sadly. “Perhaps the gods will find mercy on us.”
One of the other men scoffed. “As if the gods have any care about what happens to us. Especially a random group of Athenians.”
The kind man rolled his eyes and winked at Cletus. “Ignore Giorgios. He’s a sultry sort. Hera, forgive me, where are my manners?” He extended his hand. “Yiannis. And you are?”
“I’m—” The wagon jolted, and Cletus missed Yiannis’s hand, falling into him. He hastily collected himself, noticing and ignoring Yiannis’s stifled laughter. “Cletus.” He sat, his face feeling like the grand opening of a new Hephaestus forge.
“Come, Cletus,” Yiannis patted the seat beside him. “We’ve a long way yet to Athens.”
* * *
It was all he could do to keep from trembling as Cletus stood in line with the other tributes and a rather important-looking soldier paced in front of them. He wondered how much of it, though, was due to the obvious sea-sickness he’d experienced on his trip from Athens to Crete, and how much of it was the intimidation from the soldiers who surrounded them. After giving it some thought, he decided it was, in fact, the soldiers and not the ebb and flow of the waves he still felt even though his feet were firmly planted on the ground. The soldier glared at each man as he passed by, as if he were inspecting prisoners. Cletus certainly felt like a prisoner.
As the sun rose over the horizon, its beams glinted off the waves of the ocean and threatened to blind Cletus. That was the least of his worries, though, as he and the rest of the travelers were threatened by the entrance to a massive stone structure. The wooden doors were impossibly huge. Cletus gulped at the thought of what could be inside and hoped he wouldn’t have the privilege of knowing.
He stole a glance at the rest of the line of people: seven of them were beautiful, young women, and the other five were young, athletic men, clearly more fit than he for this sort of thing. He and Yiannis definitely stuck out like sore thumbs. It dawned on him that he didn’t even know what this thing was. He nudged Yiannis when the soldier had paced to the other end of the line, and whispered, “Yiannis, I don’t understand. What are we tributes for, exactly?”
Yiannis tensed, glancing at Cletus out of the corner of his eye. “Are you mad?” he whispered. “You don’t know?”
Cletus shook his head discreetly, noticing the soldier making his way back. Suddenly, though, he stopped in front of one of the men and stared at him, hard. Cletus and Yiannis forgot their conversation momentarily to watch.
“You,” the soldier said, stepping closer to the man. “You seem… familiar.”
The young man stared just past the soldier’s head, standing straight and proud. “You must be mistaken, sir,” he replied. His voice was elegant, noble, even.
Cletus, confused, glanced at Yiannis. His heart skipped like a stone on the water (but more like when Cletus tried to skip them, which was never successful) when he noticed his new friend’s eyes wide, mouth slightly agape. “What?” Cletus whispered.
Yiannis was silent for another moment, before he whispered frantically, “That’s… that’s the prince! That’s Aegeus’ son, Theseus! What… what in Hades is he doing here as a tribute?!”
An odd sensation–fear mixed with panic mixed with relief–washed over Cletus. On one hand, Yiannis was right: what in Zeus’ name was the prince doing here (even if he didn’t know what here meant for the band of young men); on the other hand, maybe Theseus’ presence was a good sign, that the Fates were looking out for them. He looked like the sort of man who could hold himself in battle quite well. He was muscular, young, with curly brown hair and a sharp, strong jawline.
As Cletus was ruminating, the soldier snapped his attention past the group and straightened himself, retreating back towards his fellow soldiers. The men saluted, and a regal-looking man with a ridiculously long, curly beard and a stern yet lazy expression, made his way to the front of the line of tributes. He looked over each person without saying a word, nodding in approval or tutting in disapproval. His gaze stopped on Cletus, and he halted his inspection for a moment as he leaned in and whispered something to a soldier. Anger flashed across his face when the soldier responded, and he shook his head in disgust before moving on to the rest of the men. Cletus shrank a little, his face experiencing heat so intense it threatened to melt right off.
Like the more important looking soldier had done, he stopped his inspection once again on the regal, handsome man from before. He took a step toward Theseus and looked him up and down. “I know you…” he said–the first words he’d said to the group of men since he arrived. “You’re…”
“You must be mistaken, sir,” the prince interrupted. “I’m a humble Athenian, chosen as tribute to be sent into the labyrinth.”
Cletus felt his stomach and heart plummet to the depths of Tartarus. He’d heard rumors of a labyrinth somewhere in Greece, that housed a ferocious monster. Anyone who entered never came back. He never heard, though, where this labyrinth was. Now he knew, he supposed, though he wished he didn’t.
The old man looked annoyed, then took a step back and inhaled deeply, before bellowing, “Welcome, tributes, to Crete! You’ve been selected by your beloved king to take part in an annual ritual. Each of you will enter the labyrinth and be sacrificed to the Minotaur–named after me, King Minos, I’d like to add–as per the agreement between myself and Aegeus.” The king let out a soft chuckle, and said, more to himself, “The poor fool is so afraid of war.”
Cletus's insides plummeted further into the Underworld. He swore he could see the River Styx before him. “Sacrificed?” he whimpered. “I’m… I’m not even supposed to be here.”
King Minos continued his speech, droning on about the agreement between the two cities and how important it was for each king to honor their side of it. Cletus couldn’t listen, the words slowly fading away and being replaced by a dull, panic-induced ringing in his ears. His vision blurred, and the panic only heightened when he noticed two King Minoses before him.
Before he could stop himself–and before Yiannis, who sensed his panic, could stop him–he blurted out to the nearest soldier, grabbing his arm and sinking to his knees, “Please! Please, I’m not supposed to be here! Don’t send me into the labyrinth! I-I’m just–”
The soldier shook Cletus off angrily and kicked him in the back. “Get back in line, fool!” the soldier bellowed. He glanced around at all the eyes staring at him, straightened himself, and cleared his throat. “I-I mean, return to your spot, tribute, and await your turn into the labyrinth.”
Cletus scrambled back in line–oddly more afraid of the band of soldiers than his impending doom with the monster–and glanced around at the other tributes. They all glowered at him, especially the handsome man, who seemed especially disgusted at Cletus's actions before turning to stare straight ahead, proudly. Cletus gave an apologetic shrug to Yiannis, who responded with a sad smile of understanding.
“Well, if that rude occurrence is over, let us begin. Tributes, you’ll go into the waiting house,” he gestured to a shack behind them–it was a pitiful building, really, with boards falling off in various places and many shattered windows–and continued, rather lazily, “where you will be held until it is your turn to be sacrificed. Don’t worry, though: most years, it only takes a few days to get through all fourteen tributes, so you won’t have to wait a long time. Now, off with you. I have other matters to attend to.” He waved again, this time at the group of tributes and the soldiers.
Before he was able to leave, however, Theseus called out, still staring forward straight and proud, “I volunteer to go first.”
Minos stopped and glanced around nervously at his guards. “What?” he said in disbelief.
The other tributes began murmuring, and Yiannis and Cletus looked on in horror as Theseus repeated, “I’ll go into the labyrinth first. I would be honored to be the first sacrifice.”
The king glanced at his guards, and murmured loud enough for everyone else to hear, “This hasn’t ever happened. What’s going on?” to which the soldiers just shrugged, equally confused. Minos composed himself, shaking off his bewilderment, and addressed the prince, saying, “Very well, young man. You can go first. I don’t really care either way, so long as you all are fed to the Minotaur. You’ll go in at first light tomorrow. Now, if this matter is all settled, I need to go. Badly.” He attempted to subtly squeeze his legs tighter before turning to leave with a slight waddle.
Taking their cue, the soldiers moved in and began shepherding the tributes toward the house.
“The damned fool,” Yiannis muttered while being jostled toward the house, bumping into Cletus and other tributes over and over. “What is he thinking? Poor Aegeus. I wonder if he knows his son is here…”
Cletus shrugged, and the guards gave one final shove as the tributes neared the door to the waiting house. Once everyone had filed inside (or were pushed in by the guards), they began milling about, claiming a cot and conversing with one another. Everyone seemed rather unbothered; some even seemed bored.
“This way,” Yiannis whispered to Cletus, motioning toward an unclaimed cot near the one that Theseus was sitting on, deep in conversation with two other tributes. They sat down on the cot, listening in.
“I don’t know how, yet,” Theseus was saying, “but the Minotaur must be slain. I’m the one to do it. Have any of you held a sword in your lives?” The other tributes shook their heads. “I thought not,” he continued. “Therefore, your prince will save you. Now now,” he said humbly, motioning for the few listening to quiet down, even though they hadn’t made any indication of doing or saying anything, “you can thank me later, once you’ve been saved. Now is not the time to shower me with your adoration and praise.”
“He truly is mad,” Cletus muttered to Yiannis. “Killing a monster? In a maze? That’s probably pitch-black? No way he makes it out alive.”
He will find a way,” Yiannis said confidently. “The gods will guide him to victory, I’m sure of it.”
They listened a little while longer as Theseus went on and on about how he didn’t want any praise from them (they still weren’t giving any indication that they were going to) before they grew bored and said their goodnights. Slowly, each tribute made their way to their claimed cot, until the only one left awake was Theseus, unaware that he was alone and nobody was listening to him repeat his plan and his refusal of praise for his heroism.
* * *
“It’s okay,” Cletus said proudly, holding his head high. “I’ll go in your stead, prince.”
Theseus looked at Cletus, his eyes welling with tears, and said, “Thank you, Cletus! Oh, thank you! Now I shall return home to my father, and your name will be sung for a thousand years as the bravest man Athens—no, Greece—has ever seen!”
Cletus shook his head, smiling. “There’s no need, your highness. I only do this in service of you.” He bowed deeply, and could have sworn he heard Theseus let out a soft sob.
He rose and saw King Minos standing behind him, but, as Cletus noted, he looked… different. He, at some point, had grown the head of a serpent alongside his human head. His human head opened its mouth, but the snake said, “What do you think you’re doing, mortal? Do you really think you ssstand a chanccce againssst the mighty Minotaur?”
Cletus ignored the strange sight and answered, “Of course, snake. I’m Cletus, after all.”
Theseus stared at Cletus, awestruck. “So cool,” he whispered. “May Zeus guide your hand, brave warrior!”
Before the king could protest, Cletus turned, and a dark entrance zoomed up to meet him from the far-off shadows. A deep grumbling noise sounded from within. Cletus gripped his xiphos and raised his torch, squinting and straining his eyes in an attempt to see the monstrosity that lurked in the abyss.
With an earth-shattering thud, the creature stepped forward. To Cletus's surprise, however, the Minotaur didn’t appear as the stories had said; it was just a big man. And that man, to his further surprise, was Yiannis.
“Cletus,” he said sadly. “Cletus, are you here to kill me? Your only friend?”
Brave Cletus faltered a moment. “I-I thought you were a monster. And… wait, I don’t know you that well. We just met!”
“Please,” Yiannis said, raising hairy bear arms, “I have a wife. And kids.”
“Well, I didn’t know that.” Cletus sheathed his sword.
Before he could react to the sly, devilish grin that spread across Yiannis’ face, the brutish version of his friend lunged at Cletus, growing humongous fangs mid-jump and sinking them deep into Cletus's neck. He tried to yelp in pain, but the teeth had punctured his windpipe instantly, and seconds later the fiend ripped his head clean from his shoulders.
* * *
Cletus breathlessly bolted upright in his cot, sweat causing his tunic to stick to his back. He whipped his head back and forth, scanning for signs of the monster that Yiannis turned out to be. He let out a quiet sigh of relief when he saw his friend, sound asleep in the cot beside him, arms of a man attached to his torso and human molars visible from his slightly agape, snoring mouth.
He rubbed his eyes and scanned the dark room. It must be early morning, then, he thought. Better get more sleep. He tossed himself back onto the cot and shut his eyes just as the sound of hushed voices lilted into his ear. Cletus shot back up and strained to listen further, noting Theseus’ absence from his own cot. The door to the waiting house was ajar slightly, and Cletus crept toward it on his tip-toes (in the most exaggerated way possible).
“You must!” a female voice urged softly. “There is no way you can defeat such a fiend. Trust me, I’ve seen many a man go into that labyrinth—many of which were much larger and muscular than you, might I add—never to return. The only confirmation of their demise was their girlish shrieking, cut off suddenly. I can still hear that sound in my dreams.”
“Lady,” Theseus’ voice answered gently, “if you insist, I will gladly accept your help. I love you, after all.”
Cletus heard the sound of lips pressed against one another, causing him to stick his tongue out with a disgusted expression. “Gimme a break,” he mumbled.
“This yarn,” the woman said after a long moment of kissing, “will serve as your guide. Tie it to the entrance and use it to guide your way back after you’ve slain it.
A short silence fell between them, before Theseus broke it with, “Yarn? That’s… that’s all you’re giving me?”
“Y-yes, my love,” the lady responded sheepishly. “To guide your way back out of the maze. The monster isn’t the only danger in there: getting lost in that darkness, not knowing where to go, will surely lead you to madness, if you don’t die of starvation first.”
Theseus grunted. “Thanks, I guess,” he muttered. “Could’ve used a sword or something, but sure, yarn will work. Maybe I’ll tie him up or make a lasso out of it.”
Another silence befell them, and Theseus once again broke it: “Well, goodnight, my lady.”
“Say my name, Theseus,” the woman said in a sultry tone.
“W-what?”
“My name. I want to hear you say it before I go to bed.”
“I… uh… wh-why not wait, my lady. Until… until we flee from here. Yes, until I’ve slain the Minotaur. Then you’ll hear me say your name for the rest of our lives together.”
The woman stifled a squeal. “As you wish, my lord,” she said seductively. The sound of kissing once more met Cletus's ears, and he took that as his cue to go back to bed.
He plopped back down on the hard cot, sending up a cloud of dust.
Yiannis stirred and rolled over to face him. “You’re awake, my friend,” he said with a yawn. “You should get some rest. While I am sure our prince will prevail, we must be ready to face the beast ourselves.”
“I don’t know,” Cletus said softly. “I think he might have it. He’s got help, which is something I bet none of the others had.”
“Help?” The sleep from Yiannis’ eyes vanished. “What do you mean?”
“I overheard him talking just now to a lady. They seem like they’re in love, I guess, but she gave him some yarn so he can find his way back to the entrance after killing the beast.”
Yiannis stroked his beard. “As for slaying the Minotaur? How will he accomplish that.”
“I… don’t know,” Cletus admitted. “Maybe he won’t make it, but he sure seems confident.”
Chapter 2: The Labyrinth
The tributes lined up as before as the sun peeked over the horizon, casting a pink glow over the city. Theseus’ confidence seemed to glow brighter than the sun, even, as they waited for King Minos to begin. Everyone else fidgeted nervously, murmuring amongst themselves. Cletus could overhear some of the louder tributes fret about the fate of their prince.
“How is he supposed to kill the thing and get out alive?” a scrawny man said frantically. “I’ve heard the stories. It’s got the head of a bull and is three times the size of a man.”
“Head of a bull?” the man he was talking to—a burly, carpenter-looking fellow—retorted. “That’s ludicrous. I heard it’s just a crazy guy that the king locked up for drinking water too loudly.”
“I heard,” another interjected, “that it’s just a regular bull. Well, regular except in the case where it’s the size of a warship.”
The carpenter guy scoffed. “Nonsense. Utter nonsense.”
“What if he screws up?” the scrawny guy yelped. “What if the king gets pissed or something and takes it out on us? What if we get thrown in there to join the monster or something? What if—”
“Enough with your blubbering,” the carpenter said. “Just shut up already, will you?”
Cletus silently agreed with the burly man, and was ashamedly glad to see the king stagger toward them sleepily, his crown askew and his robes disheveled. He stopped before them, mouth slightly agape, back slightly hunched, and scanned them slowly and groggily.
“It’s time…” He held up a finger as if a thought just occurred to him, and he let out a huge yawn. He stretched in unison, and his mouth did not close for at least twenty seconds (in fact, it was more—that was just the highest Cletus could count as he timed the yawn). Finally, he closed his mouth and composed himself, rubbing his eyes and straightening his stance, then cleared his throat and continued, “It's time for the sacrifices. I hope you’re all well-rested. The Minotaur gets bored easily if it can’t chase its food for a bit first. And be prepared to be in this spot. These sacrifices—while entertaining for me and my court—can go on for quite a while, depending on the stamina of the sacrifice.”
“I’m ready,” Theseus said, bouncing on his heels.
The king stared at him, looking bored. “Eager to face your demise, are we? Weirdo. Well, if you’re that anxious, I suppose we can start a little early. I was going to wait until the sun rose a bit more, but no matter.”
Guards flanked Theseus, and the brave prince marched to the entrance, then stopped suddenly. Murmuring spread throughout the anxious crowd as they watched him stand there, theorizing about the cause of his hesitance. Was he steeling his nerves? Was he having second thoughts about his mission? Was he about to throw up his morning gruel? Why was he patting himself as if he were checking to see if he’d forgotten something small yet important, when everyone knew he was to go in empty-handed? Their theories went unresolved when, satisfied, Theseus was absorbed by the darkness of the labyrinth.
Hours passed, and the sun began bombarding everyone with its unrelenting assault of heat. Before long, the crowd had gone to milling about out of boredom, attempting to find solace from the sun.
“Do you think he’s still alive?” Cletus mused to Yiannis.
“I have no doubt,” his friend replied, “that our brave prince will succeed in his quest. The gods are surely on his side.”
“Well, I mean, the girl didn’t seem like a god to me. More like a love-struck puppy.”
Yiannis laughed (a little too heartily, Cletus thought), and said, “The gods appear to us in many different forms, friend, and often as mortal beings. One time, in fact, Zeus himself came to our world in the form of a bull, if you can believe it, and—”
“I’ve had it!” a shout from Minos interrupted Yiannis and everyone else that were deep in conversation. Everyone snapped their attention to the king as he leapt from his chair and stormed to the entrance of the maze. “It doesn’t usually take this long!” he whined, then whirled to gaze at the scrambling crowd with enough heat to make Apollo sweat. His eyes locked onto Cletus—who gulped—and he declared, pointing a crooked finger, “You! I’m tired of waiting. You’re next!”
Minos flicked his hand toward Cletus, and guards advanced upon him. His knees buckled as they snatched him by the arms, dragging him to the entrance of the maze. It was as pitiful sight to behold.
“W-wait!” Cletus begged. “G-give him more time! Please!”
Minos squinted his eyes. “You knew you were going in there, Athenian. Why haven’t you made peace yet? Why are you so afraid? What do you mean ‘give him more time?’ What… are you hiding?”
Cletus gulped again, then laughed nervously. “Wh-who, me? I, uh… nothing! Nothing to hide, not from me, no way. No minotaur slaying schemes going on in these walls.” He reached out, pulling the guard who still held his arm, and patted the archway.
The king’s eyes became microscopic, his brow furrowing. “Throw him in,” he barked without breaking his piercing stare.
Before he could protest further, Cletus was shoved roughly into the darkness. He tumbled onto the hard floor and looked back at the king, who smirked as the heavy, stone door rumbled shut.
Darkness enveloped him completely, and a deafening silence followed. Cletus sat in the spot where he fell for several long minutes, silently panicking.
“Okay,” he panted. “Okay… you’re okay… just, just get up.” He remembered Theseus’ plan, and, hope surging through him, leapt to his feet, feeling around for the yarn.
“Maybe,” he said once he found it, “I should wait here.”
Through the door, he heard a muffled voice call out, “We’re opening the door in the next thirty minutes, and if you’re still there, I’ve been ordered to kill you myself!”
Another gulp went down Cletus's throat. With shaky knees and protests from his feet, he felt his way along the yarn, slowly, as it twisted and turned through the abyssal maze.
It wasn’t long before he heard a commotion coming from somewhere not that far off. It was definitely the sound of a struggle: bellowing of a monster, yelling and grunting of a man, and many sounds of fighting.
Cletus's knees buckled once more. “Should… should I find a place to hide?” he said. “But he’ll think me a coward if he finds me. And maybe he could use my help.”
He took a deep breath, held it for a few seconds, released it and continued down the yarn. The sounds of the battle grew louder as he no doubt got closer, until, when he took a sudden right turn, the sounds were deafening and he bumped into something hard, causing him to fall back on his rear.
“Hey!” Theseus’ voice called out in Cletus's direction. “Who in Hades is there? You’re gonna get me killed, idiot!”
The creature bellowed again, and a whooshing sound followed by a loud crash sounded in front of him. “Dammit!” Theseus yelled out. “That was close! Whoever you are, get back! Get out of my way! This is my fight!”
“O-okay,” Cletus stammered. “Sorry, sorry.”
He retreated back around the corner and waited anxiously, ready to move if the battle spilled into his hallway. Mere moments later, Theseus let out a bellow of his own alongside the creature’s own gurgling sound, then, after a thud, all went silent. Cletus grasped the yarn as Theseus rounded the corner, panting heavily.
Breathless, the hero said, “All right, explain yourself. Why did you almost get me killed?”
Cletus hesitated a moment before responding, “I’m Cletus, my lord, a fellow Athenian. Minos got, uh, bored, I guess, with waiting for you to die to the Minotaur and threw me in here. I noticed the yarn when feeling around and followed it to you.”
Silence filled the darkness around them. Then, Theseus broke it and said, “Fine. C’mon. Let’s get out of here.” He bumped into Cletus and shoved him out of the way. “Move. I’ll lead.”
They walked in a silence that made Cletus feel as if his sandals were filled with scorpions, following the yarn back to the entrance of the labyrinth.
The trip seemed much shorter than before (maybe because Cletus was far less afraid), and soon a soft light shone through the crack in the doors.
“It’s gotten late,” Theseus muttered. “I guess that took longer than I’d planned.”
They went up to the doors and pushed hard. Theseus, being much more athletic than Cletus, had little trouble moving the heavy, stone slab.
They looked around at the other tributes who were either trying to fight boredom and sleep or succumbing to it. Those who noticed the two warriors (or, the one warrior and the one regular man) whispered to one another excitedly, elbowing those asleep or not paying attention and pointing.
“Where’s the king?” Theseus called out.
“He grew too bored and went home,” a woman’s sultry voice called out. A very pretty woman walked up to Theseus and attempted to plant a kiss on his lips. He turned his face just in time for her lips to meet his cheek instead, and she looked offended when she pulled back. “I see you were successful,” she said after recovering from her disappointment.
“I was, indeed,” Theseus said, looking over her head at the crowd. “No thanks to this guy,” he added, jerking his thumb at Cletus.
“Thank you, brave warrior,” she said, addressing Cletus and ignoring Theseus’ addition, “for keeping my love safe.” Cletus glanced and noticed Theseus roll his eyes at the word “love,” and he smiled sweetly when she, too, glanced at him.
“Well, I, uh…” Cletus stammered.
“Cletus!” Yiannis exclaimed as he and Giorgios joined the party. “You’re alive! And my lord, Theseus! I knew you could do it!”
“Well, I’ll admit I’m shocked,” Giorgios muttered.
Theseus shot Giorgios a warning glance that bounced off of the man harmlessly. He rolled his eyes again and turned to the lady. “We didn’t think of an escape plan once I killed the beast. What now?”
The lady thought a moment. “Well, first, I’d love to hear you say my name,” she said sweetly, batting her eyelids rapidly.
Theseus gulped loudly and glanced about in a nervous fashion. “S-sure, uh, yeah I’ll say it, uhh…” He looked to the other three, pleading.
Yiannis loudly whispered, “I believe it’s Ariadne, my lord.”
Theseus nodded in thanks and faced Ariadne once more, who had turned as red as a battlefield after Ares arrived. “My darling Ariadne. There. Now onto a plan.”
“I already have one,” she said with a huff, crossing her arms. “We steal one of my dad’s ships and sail out of here.”
Theseus put his hand to his chin and thought. “I like that idea,” he said. “Brilliant.”
It was Ariadne’s turn to roll her eyes, and she shifted a couple of steps away from Theseus as he turned to address the tributes. “Athenians!” he called out, making his voice deeper and more heroic. “It is time we return home! Let us make our way down to the docks to procure a ship and sail home! Don’t be seen or heard!”
The tributes chattered excitedly to one another, a few of them weeping from relief at the thought of not being eaten by the Minotaur. As a noisy mob led by Theseus and Ariadne, they marched to the docks.
Cletus and Yiannis exchanged their own looks of relief. “Thank Zeus,” Yiannis said. “I came here expecting to die. I’ll admit I’m glad I get to walk this earth a bit longer.”
Giorgios, who decided to walk with them uninvited, butted in with a scoff, “Zeus? Please. Zeus had no part in this. Theseus shouldn’t even get that much credit.”
Yiannis chuckled. “Not everything is bad, my friend. Have faith in the gods.”
“When it comes to the gods and heroes, everything they do is bad,” Giorgios countered.
Cletus looked back and forth between his companions, then forward at Theseus. Theseus definitely was heroic in the maze. He fought bravely and sacrificed his safety to save the Athenians. But the way in which he spoke to Ariadne and him unsettled him, yet he did not know why. He shrugged it off, then said, “Yiannis is right. We owe much to the gods and the heroes like Theseus who save us from danger.”
Giorgios scoffed again and shook his head, but said no more. He started to, but the mob had arrived at the docks and Theseus had mounted a box to address them.
“Fellow Athenians,” he said in a deep, triumphant tone, “we are no longer subject to the cruelty of King Minos of Crete! He shall no longer throw innocent men and women into the labyrinth as sacrifices! We are free!”
The crowd cheered; all except Giorgios, of course. “I think he forgot why the king even bothered in the first place,” Cletus heard him mutter.
Hearing that comment unsettled Cletus further, but he ignored it as a new sensation rose within him. He was suddenly restless, like an invisible itch he could not scratch. What it was, however, remained a mystery to him.
Chapter 3: The Return Home (For Most)
The sun at sea, while just as hot, felt significantly different than when Cletus worked in the fields. He noticed this as he paced the deck of the ship, milling about with the other Athenians. Luckily, he’d avoided being roped into working as a shiphand on their return trip (he knew nothing of sailing and would most definitely have been in the way), and was merely tasked with simple seafaring chores. And those chores, so far in the couple of days they’d been at sea, never took very long, which allowed Cletus to mingle.
He sat on a barrel to soak in the sun and talk to Yiannis, who hadn’t been as lucky to avoid the hard labor.
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to return to my old, boring life of farming,” Cletus said with his head tilted back, letting the heat of the sun warm his face. Yiannis didn’t respond with words, but merely grunted as he heaved the rope to adjust the sails. Cletus hadn’t even heard the captain call out the order. “This whole thing, Yiannis… it’s awoken something in me. Something I haven’t had the courage to address before.”
Yiannis tied the rope off and plopped down on the deck beside the barrel, wiping sweat off his brow. “Oh?” he said, panting. “What’s that, friend?”
“Adventure,” Cletus responded wistfully. “I feel… like I’ve been called to do it. Like some force is calling me forth.”
Giorgios staggered over and crashed to the ground beside Yiannis, equally sweaty and exhausted. “Oh, come off it,” he gasped. “That’s ridiculous. You should be grateful for the quiet life you lead as a farmer, Cletus.”
Yiannis chuckled. “Oh, Giorgios. Must you be so negative all the time? Perhaps the Fates have something grand in store for our dear friend here. Or the gods themselves!”
“You think so?” Cletus said in awe, his eyes widening.
“Ridiculous,” Giorgios snorted. He reclined back, tucking his hands behind his head. “Now, either you guys shut up or clear out. I need to take a nap before my next shift.”
Yiannis and Cletus exchanged glances and shrugs. Yiannis joined Giorgios in his slumber.
Cletus, on the other hand, decided to mill about more, although it was more like aimless wandering as he strolled around.
“Get out of the way, idiot!” an Athenian yelled at Cletus as he wandered in front of him. The words never met his ears, however, for he was far beyond the ship, off on his own imaginary adventures of fighting glorious battles in the name of Greece.
“Move before you get killed!” another Athenian shouted as Cletus strolled in the way of his carrying supplies below deck; he never heard the man, though, as he dreamed of embracing the goddess, Aphrodite, in a marriage bed.
“You dolt!” a third man yelled. Cletus was aware of this man, however, as he was smacked on the back of the head with a wet cloth, jerking him back to reality. Cletus blinked stupidly, wiping the soapy water from his neck.
“S-sorry!” he said as he scurried out of the way.
“Now I have to start all over!” the man cried.
Cletus followed the man’s despairing gaze and saw he’d tracked dirt all over a freshly washed deck. When he raised his eyes back to the man, Cletus found him glowering, which made him flinch and back away. “S-sorry!” he said again with a nervous laugh and fled.
“That was awfully brave of you, Cletus,” he muttered as he stormed toward the crew quarters. He was halfway there when a voice–or rather, pair of voices–caught his attention.
They were hushed, but angry. Cletus dropped to a crouch behind some amphorae that gave off a sickly-sweet scent of wine and oil and peeked through the cracks to find…
“You said you loved me!” the princess of Crete hissed, tears welling in her eyes.
“Baby, it’s true. Of course I love you,” Theseus pleaded. “I’d never hurt you. I rescued you from that hellish place. It’s just a rumor!”
“It wasn’t hellish, and I remember being the one who helped you.” She stared at him defiantly, the flames of Tartarus erupting within her.
The flames spread to Theseus, but burned more savagely. Cletus barely contained a gulp when he caught the brief, murderous glint in Theseus’ eye. “Careful, woman,” he seethed, his voice low, menacing, completely shifting away from the loving tone he had moments before. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
She flinched, but regrouped and stood her ground. “Neither do you. I’ll trust you, but hear me when I say you don’t want to cross me.” She patted his chest then, and it was his turn to flinch. “Just be careful, little prince.” And with that, she sauntered away with a smug smile–albeit the terror that she could hardly conceal.
Theseus remained stationary, fuming. Even from his hiding place Cletus could see him shaking with rage. He muttered something angrily–something Cletus couldn’t catch–and stormed off, too, toward Cletus. He ducked further into the shadows to avoid the prince’s wrath until he’d bounded past him and up to the deck.
“What in Hades was that about?” Cletus mused.
A plan, he decided, was in order if he were to get to the bottom of this mystery. A mystery only Cletus could solve. But, if there was one thing Cletus was horrible at, it was devising plans, amongst most other things. “I’ll ask Yiannis,” he determined. “He’s the wisest person I know and he’ll give sound advice on how to get these much needed answers.”
He found his old friend in the last place he’d left him, but poor Yiannis looked as if he could barely stand as he heaved the rope to adjust the sails once more.
“Oh,” he gasped when Cletus approached. “My friend. Welcome… back.”
“Yiannis,” Cletus replied. “You look like Charon himself, old man.” He clapped Yiannis on the back, which sent him flying forward off his feet and swinging helplessly by the rope. He let out a cry and Cletus could only wince and watch his friend flail about and spin in circles as he attempted to regain his balance.
Finally, he caught himself and clambered back to his feet. He grunted as he gave it one last yank that seemed to expend what little energy he had left, tied the rope off, and collapsed by the barrels.
“I’ll take that as a compliment, friend,” Yiannis said through gasps. He seemed unbothered by Cletus's actions and inactions. “What can I… what can I do for you? Quickly, before the world goes dark, friend.”
“There’s something amiss with the prince and princess. I need your help in devising a plan to figure out what.”
“Ah, I see. It’ll be my final task, it seems. The world grows dim even now, dear boy. I haven’t long.”
“Wait, what? What do you mean?”
“I’m dying, Cletus. I can’t go on any longer. I’m… so tired. And there’s a plague spreading. I have it and so do three other shipmates, it seems. They’re quarantined below.”
“I thought the deck looked sparse. Why aren’t you down there?”
Yiannis shrugged weakly. “They needed someone to man the sails.”
Cletus nodded. “I see. On to other matters. What can I do to solve this mystery?”
“Just ask,” was all Yiannis offered.
Cletus hit his palm against his forehead. “Of course! Thank you, dear friend!”
Yiannis merely threw his hand up in a weak wave, and slumped further, his breath ragged and shallow, and the younger of the two ran off below deck once more.
Cletus rapped his knuckles on the door to the lady’s bedroom. She opened it a moment later, her eyes red and swollen, snot running out of her nose, which she wiped with the sleeve of her dress.
“Pardon me, my lady,” Cletus said with a bow, “but I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with Lord Theseus. I was stopping by to ask for more information.”
She sighed at the mention of his name. “I really do love that man. I… trust him.”
“Lady…”
“Ariadne.”
“Lady Ariadne, what was the manner of that heated discussion the two of you had?”
“Oh, just a rumor that was floating around the ship. By now I’m sure it’s been squashed.”
“May I ask what the rumor was?”
“Nothing. It doesn’t concern you. Go back to your duties, sir…”
“Cletus.”
“Cletus. I’m tired and wish to retire.”
Cletus bowed once more. “As you wish, Lady Ariadne.”
She shut the door in his face without a second glance, and Cletus swore out of surprise (something he never really did).
“Perhaps Giorgios could be of assistance,” Cletus pondered, still standing at the closed door. And with that, he set off to find his other, more surly friend.
* * *
“Nope. Not a chance.”
Giorgios slapped his soaking mop onto the shining deck of the ship. It was very clearly already pristinely clean.
“Uhhh, Giorgios,” Cletus said hesitantly, pointing at the glistening wood. “That’s already clean.”
“Shhhh!” Giorgios hissed. “Shut up you idiot! Of course it is. I don’t want to do the whole thing, so I’m just pretending like this isn’t clean yet.”
“That’s not a good plan,” Cletus said, and he was right. Even he could see it wasn’t.
“Shut up,” Giorgios repeated. “Go bother Yiannis.”
“Well, he’s sick and I don’t want to catch it, so–”
“Prepare to dock!” the captain yelled out. “We’re stopping for supplies!”
Cletus flinched at the interruption, then shrugged at Giorgios before preparing to make landfall. It turned out that wasn’t the only thing they were stopping to do. Apparently, the plague that had run rampant on the ship had claimed the lives of several crewmates, and the crew decided to send the departed off with burial rites. Cletus volunteered to help haul Yiannis, who was amongst the dead from disease, off the ship. They sent them all off in small boats, drachmae on their mouths.
“I can’t believe he’s gone,” Cletus moaned. “Now how am I supposed to find out what was going on between Ariadne and Theseus!”
The crew continued their rites and sent the dead off in their boats, mourning the loss of their dear friends. Moments later, Theseus came power walking from some nearby bushes toward them all. Cletus hadn’t even noticed his absence. “Come on!” he shouted. “Let’s get out of here!”
“Is something wrong, sir?” Cletus asked.
“Nope, just get on the ship. Everyone, let’s go!”
And just like that, they were sailing away. Cletus watched, as they pulled away, and witnessed a figure running down the beach, waving, shouting, and throwing rocks at the ship.
“Did we forget someone, Giorgios?”
“Hell if I know.”
“That looks an awful lot like…” The realization hit him like a sack full of barley (which actually hurts a lot, as Cletus would tell you): the rumor. He pieced it together (well, he never had any of the pieces, so really he just used the conclusion to come to his, well, conclusion) and discovered that it was, in fact, true. Theseus had planned to leave Ariadne stranded somewhere all along!
* * *
Giorgios was not the type to believe outrageous things, and one of those outrageous things that he could not believe was that Theseus left Ariadne behind on the island. Nevertheless, Cletus tried to persuade him. And kept trying.
“I doubt you saw her,” Giorgios claimed when Cletus told him. “I don’t trust Theseus as far as I can throw him, mind you, but I don’t think that was her.”
“I did see her, Giorgios. On the island as we left. And I heard them arguing about a ‘rumor,’ remember?”
Giorgios scoffed and waved his hand dismissively. “Coincidence. Random coincidence.”
Cletus shook his head. “I don’t believe in coincidence. Neither does–did–Yiannis, God rest his–” He crossed himself, then looked at his hand, confused. “What the gods was that? I’m polytheistic for Zeus’ sake.”
“Again,” Giorgios said gruffly, “coincidence.”
Cletus stared at his hand a moment longer, then shrugged.
Before he knew it (which was three more days), the coast of Athens was in the distance.
“Raise the flag! Signal the king of our return!” the captain shouted as they drew near.
A black flag was raised by Giorgios, who grumbled something about the wrong flag under his breath.
Cletus ignored his sullen friend and watched the city he loved get closer and closer. He didn’t realize how much he missed this place. But he couldn’t go back to his boring life from before, no way. He’d try, he knew, but he also knew it couldn’t stick. He was already feeling restless, eager for adventure, ready for–
“Look! Someone’s been thrown from the castle wall! They’re falling toward the rocks!”
Cletus gasped and covered his mouth.
“Father!” Theseus screamed, and four men held him back from jumping overboard. “Father! No! I forgot! A white flag, not a black one! No!”
Giorgios grumbled some more– with a gruff, joyless chuckle– that sounded like “Told you so” and “Coincidence,” which seemed contradictory to Cletus, but he didn’t say anything to his friend.
Cletus watched in horror as the body smashed into the rocks. The force was so great that it split him in two, and the two separate pieces of the king bounced off in different directions. It was brutal to watch. Even Giorgios winced. The prince fell to his knees and screamed and sobbed. It was brutal to watch.
Prologue II
Can you even call this a prologue? We’re in the middle of–oh, we are? Ahem. I must apologize and interrupt the tale of Cletus for a moment, dear reader. You may be thinking, “This isn’t how this happened! There was no ‘Cletus's in Crete! And the Theseus I know would never behave like that! He was good! He was true! He was a hero!” To which I would respond and assure you that, as Calliope guides my hand as I share his tale, all of these events transpired. Also, heroes are people and people aren’t perfect. And then I would say, “Ha! See?” But I’ll keep that last one to myself.
Perhaps Cletus's tale was lost to time. Perhaps he was erased by those who saw his actions and thought, “Oh, this guy’s dumb. Let’s cut him out.” Whatever the case may be, all of these tales are true. So just… trust me on this one.
