Date: Tue, 16 Apr 2002 09:06:11 EDT
From: SSch191950@aol.com
Subject: The Sons of Memory
The Sons of Memory
by Stefan
First: Gloom
A grunt in darkness. A scratching of feet, senseless uttered sounds.
Water drops falling softly; a wet coolness to soothe his longing.
Somewhere in his gloomy brain a cry came off. Not human, just brutish.
A roar, that craved for attention and feeding.
His finger scratched on stone. Restless he crossed the labyrinth - his
labyrinth - set up to hide him from human stares.
A gnarl escaped his hairy throat and his short, strong horns thrust
against the wall. His mind was tired, like his whole being, born out of
a quirk of a horny woman.
His memories remained pale: a scared cry when he was born and afterwards
just twilight in which the King of Crete had condemned him to live. He
wasn't proud of his son, oh no! He couldn't be. What would a bull-headed
man look like upon the throne of Knossos? The white bull - this was his
real father; a white bull risen from the depths of the sea as a gift from
Poseidon to Minos, the King of Crete. At least that's what he figured out
while he was locked up in a secret room at Knossos' Palace. Pasiphae, Minos'
wife fell madly in love with the white bull; with his strength, power and
beauty. With the help of Daedalos, the creative inventor, she was able to
mate with him and the result was he - Asterion: a baby with the head of a
calf.
He remembered vaguely the brilliant colours. The red of the colour of old
blood, the azure of the painted birds and of the dolphins on the palace
walls. But, by Hades, what did he know about azure blue sky? His only
entertainment was to look into the azure blue eyes of one of his victims.
When he consumed them, inhaled them, his aching sex plunging deep between
the youth's legs - spread apart by his force - the King was feeding him;
first to satiate his sex drive and second to satisfy his permanent hunger.
His bowels rumbled. It was time for supplies. But in the darkness time
didn't count. There was no tomorrow and no yesterday; no morning, no evening.
Just timeless loneliness.
He still was cruising aimlessly; blindly finding the existence of the many
ways. Something similar to laughter escaped. No human had ever found the way
out. Not if he didn't want to. And he never wanted.
His mighty cock jerked, but he withstood the urge to lay hand on himself.
Saliva ran from his snout and he scraped it over the cold stone, licking
the salty surface. It was time for supplies. . . time, time, time! Raving
he stomped with his feet; his body shaking with desire and demand. With
lust and longing.
His ears pricked up. He heard the familiar sound at the entrance to the
labyrinth. The gate was opened; he could sense fear. And something else:
male flesh. Firm, delicious male flesh.
He would take his time today. No wild frenzy of mating and annihilation.
Not this time.
He started to run, the muzzle torn apart widely, to the entrance gate and
stopped abruptly. Carefully he peered around a corner and saw. Torch light
was dazzling him but he saw. Light mirroring in shiny swords. Swords? Over
the back cascaded a long, white braid. The eyes were scared and reflected
the torch light like splinters of green glass. His companion was black as
the night, dark as the labyrinth, locks tied up with a headband drenched
with sweat.
Again he smelled fear, but resolution also. His cock rose, beefy and urgent.
He groped it with both hands and crept away. The game was on.
Second: Desire
This was Athen's Agora - the market place where there was everything to buy
Theseus could imagine. Grain from Euboa, goods from Thracia and the north
coast of the Black Sea. Silverware from Laurion. Wool and linen clothes,
coloured and single ones, crockery made from burnt clay, amphorae with
curved handles and pretty ornaments.
Theseus sauntered along the fruits and vegetable stands. His fingers were
itching to pick a bright yellow lemon or a velvet peach, thick like blood
drops inside dark figs. He took a handful of black and green olives and
breathed in their sunny scent. Then he detected the apricots, the sugar
melons, the pomegranates, oranges and above all the grapes: saffron yellow
or almost black.
Women picked up water from the public wells and from the spring house and
carried the jars upon their heads back home. Amidst the market place was
another well on whose brink a boy stood, one foot upon the brim, carrying
up a long rope on whose end the water bucket appeared, full with delicious,
cool water. Theseus checked him. Far too young for his taste, but the broad
shoulders and glistening breast were promising. He gave him a broad smile
and the boy jerked in a sudden recognition. He bent his head in a mute
greeting. Theseus went on; the young body had fired his desires.
Fish monger gesticulated. Big heaps of mussels and little octopus hung
over a thin rope. Beside them were stands with baskets woven from Sparto-
grass, resin of the Storax-bush and healing earth from the isle of Lemnos,
Theseus didn't know what it was used for.
High above the town the Acropolis towered, dazzling white and red roofs.
The pillars of the Parthenon glared in dusty afternoon sun. Theseus was
thirsty. He strolled along the large Stoa, covered columned halls where
the Athens' citizens made business and met friends.
Theseus dove into the pleasant shade of sycamores. A humming of various
voices filled the long arcades, people stood in groups, discussing
animatedly. Another young lad was sitting upon a stool, writing with a
stylus upon a wax tablet; he listened attentively to the negotiatons of
two fat men, whose precious Togas revealed the rich merchant. His dark
locks were held back with a band, like Theseus himself wore, just that
it was made from a small silver band with ornamentations. The men
interrupted their talk, looked at him solemnly and bent their heads.
Theseus thanked them and smiled.
Finally he stood in front of the Thermae. He longed for a bath for he
felt dusty, dirty and smelling. And..., Theseus' lips grinned smug, ...
there he would meet the men. He entered the dazzling white building and
was greeted by bath slaves and breathed in the scent of hibiscus oil,
camphor and rosemary. He was gently undressed and his clothes taken away.
Instead he received two large towels.
Hip baths from terracotta were grouped around a water basin with cooler
water. Intense steam clouded the bodies of men, who were sitting in the
tubs relaxing. Soft murmur was to be heard. Theseus' eyes wandered over
the faces in search of familiars. Then he dropped his towel and stood
naked.
Ricos looked up and revealed a strong-toothed grin. His round baby-eyes
scanned Theseus' body, firm and with lean muscles, just the way he liked
it. His gaze feasted upon his lower waist and longing flushed him like
the sea, stormed by Poseidon. He knew that Theseus cock could rise to an
exciting length and his own twitched with anticipation. The hairless ball
sack swung deliberately when Theseus stepped beside him and slid into
the tub that was filled with hot water. He shovelled it over his body
and sighed contented. A full minute he sat there, eyes closed, enjoying
the water before he turned his head to look at his occasional lover. One
of his lovers he corrected himself, because he doubted that there was a
gay man in Athens he hadn't had in his bed. He reached out and stroked
Ricos' smooth cheek. Unfortunately he had never fallen in love with any
of his bed mates, so he fed his hopes always with the next, but if he
had already had all of them who was left then?
Ricos took his hand and kissed it. Theseus withdrew his hand. He didn't
like the subservience the men paid him. Him: Athens' prince. He rather
preferred the fiery encounter, steaming sex, wet, hot and draining.
"What's the news?" he asked.
Ricos' round, amber eyes nearly popped out of his head. "You haven't
heard?"
"Heard what? You know I just came back from Marathon."
Ricos' face appeared jealous. "Have you found a substitute for me?"
"Don't be foolish, of course I have." Theseus grinned impishly and
Ricos reciprocated through somewhat insulted.
"So what do you mean?" Theseus continued indifferently.
"The tribute to Crete is due this year. Your father, Aegeus, called
for a gathering where each young boy will drop his ticket to learn who
will be the seven that sail to Crete."
Theseus looked excited. "To be sacrificed?"
Ricos nodded sadly. "You, of course, as the King's son won't belong
to them."
Theseus fell silent. He knew of course the story. Hercules, his uncle
once brought the Cretan white bull to Attica. It was one of his task for
king Eurystheus. The bull created havoc on the land in his God's aroused
rage, killed off Minos' son Androgeos until Theseus was able to beat the
bull and sacrificed him to Apollo. The Cretan king went mad from sorrow
for the loss of his son and demanded a tribute to Athens that was beyond
all human pity.
"There are rumours about a monster like being, locked in a labyrinth.
Nobody returned though from Knossos to tell the truth." Ricos said
pensively.
In Theseus awoke adventurousness. "Why shouldn't I participate?" he
called out. "After all I am the vincitor of Periphetes the beater,
Skeiron the thrower, Prokrustes the stretcher and many more," he said
proudly and not without self pride. His muscles swelled, outlining some
old scars he had on his underarms and on his shoulders.
"But you can't! You're Aegeus' only son. The king's fifty nephews
will conquer the throne then!"
But Theseus didn't listen. Excitedly he pondered the consequences. So
far he had mastered each challenge with the help of Apollo, Hermes and
Athena to whom he was truly devoted. He believed in the power of Gods
and he considered himself as their favourite hero. His deep shaded blue
eyes glistened. His cock rose and stuck out of the water.
Ricos giggled. He had instantly forgotten the dangerous plan and reached
over, ignoring the other men around and circled his forefinger around
the reddish tip of Theseus' penis. Gently he played with the foreskin,
pulled it back and forth until Theseus moaned and held Ricos' hand.
"Come", he whispered, stepped quickly out of the tub, grabbed his
towel and wrapped in around his waist. It left a wide tent but he didn't
care. Impatiently he dragged Ricos behind him into a separated cubicula
and closed the door. Fiercely he dropped the towel, tugged at Ricos' and
kneaded his lover's balls. "You're still hung like a horse", he said
seriously.
"Sure", Ricos answered. "How could you forget this? Why don't you lay
down and give me your sweet bum?"
"What's gotten into you?" Theseus' brows furrowed. "I'm always the
master here", he said snootily, took Ricos' shoulders and pressed him
down until he felt his hot mouth engulfing his blood engorged member
that indeed had grown to an exciting length. Theseus groaned and ground
his teeth when he emptied himself a few seconds later. Ricos rose,
grinning, his lips white from cum, fondling the king's son's testicles.
"You're quick. You needed it certainly." He took Theseus' hand and
jumped with him upon the soft bed that was standing in a corner for
such occasions. Theseus wasn't over powered, he was young and his body
full of sex hormones. He swallowed Ricos completely, rubbing his tongue
over the underside of the shaft and encircled with his fingers Ricos'
backside orifice. Ricos gave approving sounds, then backed away, taking
the little pain Theseus' teeth caused on his penis. He kneeled in front
of Theseus and stared into his eyes. Then he took a small jar and poured
viscous oil into his palm. He smeared it gently over Theseus hard cock,
the rest into the crack of his butt. He lifted himself and sat onto
Theseus' lap, his back facing his lover, then let himself sink slowly
and with it impaled himself on his lover's pole. A mutual gasp from two
different throats and after a while of adjustment, Ricos started to ride
him.
Theseus reached around and worked Ricos' cock, rubbing slowly up and down,
smearing the pre cum that flooded until he couldn't take it any longer.
Ricos' loud moans made him crazy so he leaned forward, pushing Ricos
upon the sheets until he lay spread eagled and started a serious fuck.
Uninhibited he pumped in and out until both screamed with pleasure.
Boys and boys again - Ricos had always been his best fuck mate so far,
although he tried to mount him now and again. But as far as was this
concerned Theseus was a virgin and determined to remain so. Nothing
was better than to plunge between a cute firm bum. With a loud cry he
came and broke down upon Ricos' sweaty back until their breathing
gradually subsided. He didn't long to pull out from this warm nest,
so he lay motionless until he fell asleep.
When he opened his eyes again he was still buried in Ricos' arse, but
he heard his voice. "Promise me to stay here and not go to Crete."
Theseus was wide awake now. He wriggled and pulled out his cock. He
lay beside Ricos and looked into his face. "Don't tell me you were
faithful during my absence. I'm sure you were not."
Ricos cheeks glowed and this was answer enough. "Don't hang your heart
on me. I need air to breathe", Theseus was unusually serious.
He rose, pulled Ricos with him and engaged both into a deep kiss.
"You're the best", he smiled.
Ricos took Theseus arm, opened the door and both stepped into another
big basin of warm water to wash off sweat, oil and cum and to get aroused
again.
Third: Fate
The High priestess' hand of Athena disappeared in the wooden voting
box in which were gathered all the tags on which were written all names
of Athens' youth. It was a question of honour and nobody, not the senators,
nor rich merchants and farmers backed out of this ceremony that took
place each seven years when the tribute was due. Except the slaves and
freedmen who didn't belong to the noble class and had no need to attend.
Incense wavered around the head of the priestess and his father Aegeus
behind. Sunbeams broke upon the spear of the ivory-golden statue of
Athena. She was standing there in full armour, smiling archaic, her
sapphire stone eyes glistening coldly and dangerous. Here, high above
downtown, on the Acropolis, he felt the breath of the Gods. The Parthenon
and the Zeus temple, and there behind, at the sanctum of Pandrosos, he
could see the branches of Athena's holy olive tree waving in the breeze.
She once had let it grow with her spear when she was in a contest with
Poseidon about the protecting power over Attica. Poseidon himself
stomped his trident into the stone and a salty born bubbled up...
Theseus listened. It was very quiet now. The mumbling had stopped. He
knew that everybody was listening now... and there it was: the sea's
roar coming up from the lowest level of the Erechtheion, there where
Poseidon's salty well gushed... the wind was coming from the south and
Theseus knew the Gods were with them. Right now.
All this was sacred area and sacred action and it meant a lot to Theseus.
He might be a boaster, proud of all his fulfilled tasks but he wasn't that
foolish to believe, that he did it all alone. No, the Gods were with him
always and he never forgot to thank them. So, this morning of the ceremony
he had washed himself at Athena's well to wash off Ricos' scent, to clean
himself from all the dirt, inwardly and outwardly. He had dressed into
his best stark white tunic with the blood red himaiton above and fastened
it with a emerald fibula, a gift from his father when he was a baby and
grew up at his mother's house back in Troezen.
Aethra, his mother was the daughter of the king there and Theseus was
sired, while Aegeus was on his travels and left the pregnant Aethra
behind. He had left a present for his son under a stone - sword and
shoes - and directed her to take them from under it. The time had come,
Theseus was then on his way to Athens and was finally acknowledged and
declared his father's successor.
Ricos was standing beside Theseus. He felt his friend shivering despite
the warm sun. "You really have thrown your name into the ballot box?"
Theseus nodded and listened to the name, the high priestess proclaimed.
The young man whose name was called hung his head although some of his
friends around cheered and patted his shoulder. For them it was one
great adventure and perhaps they were certain that the gods would have
pity on them and send them straight to Mount Olympus as heros.
Theseus watched him. Yes, he had put his name into the ballot box
although his father had forbidden him to do so. But Theseus didn't want
to be different from the others and second he trusted the Gods. He just
wasn't sure if he should believe that the Gods would excuse him or gave
him the opportunity to prove once more his braveness and to become Athens'
immortal hero.
All youths that were called out were standing now beside King Aegeus in
front of the bluish chalk pillars of the Parthenon when Ricos heard his
name resounded over the place. He almost broke down beside Theseus and
just his quick grip could avoid Ricos fall to the ground. Theseus
shuddered himself. Unconsciously he prayed that the next - and last -
name would be his own.
Breathless silence when the high priestess called with loud voice:
"Theseus, Aegeus' son, prince of Attica."
First there was silence, then a sharp and endless sad look from his
father met Theseus' eyes. Ricos, walking up the stairs, leading to the
temple, halted and looked behind in Theseus' direction. The people were
still silent, nobody spoke. But he could sense the exertion in each pore.
He held his father's gaze while he entered the staircase himself, walked
up with his head in the air and lined up between the now seven young men.
It was as if the citizens just now realized the meaning of losing the
heir to the throne and the consequences. Protest started, and embittered
curses towards Crete and its merciless ruler.
"To the weapons!" some called. "Let's declare war with Crete. We want
to end this shameful act!" But the high priestess lifted her arms.
"Citizens of Athens. Do not sin against the Gods. We are standing here
in front of our patron goddess Athena. I know the ways of the Gods are
mysterious and hard to understand. But wouldn't she stand for us - her
own folk - if it wasn't the will of the Gods to sacrifice our youth as
expiatory sacrifice?
"King Minos of Crete has asked the Oracle of Delphi and it was Phytia
who gave this sad answer to all of us."
She proudly lifted her head. "The Goddess will accept this sacrifice.
The highest we can give: Our prince. And end this all. Just believe.
A servant threw myrrh into basins of flames and more smoke and haze
covered the crowd standing in front of the stairs. When the haze had
dispersed, she was gone. Aegeus was still there - a man in his best
years, still black hair, a black beard, but he was slumped together,
broken, sick. Theseus felt the urge to say something to his folk, but
wasn't sure to find the right words, so he simply walked over to his
father, and embraced him after a brief hesitation.
"Father", he spoke low, "I promise to fight. I am not that lamb going
to the slaughter without struggle. Give me an armed ship, weapons I will
hide secretly and I will fight King Minos and the fate waiting for us.
Look at the young men here. They are not bound to die young. I have
killed so many monsters and even saved your life by turning out your
evil wife Medea." His blue eyes pierced Aegeus'. "Have faith. I will
return."
Aegeus loosened his body from his son's and took him by the shoulders.
Then he kissed his forehead. "So be it. I have no faith. But hope."
The crowd cheered now.
Seven young men and the crew of the ship were standing aboard saying
motionless good bye while Athens' citizens were gathered at the harbour
of Piraeus. Again the priests and priestess had lit fires and sacrificed
rams to a happy return.
"Hoist up a white sail when my son's mission is successful", Aegeus
said to the captain, a pockmarked, old seaman. He nodded briefly, gave
his orders to the crew and the ship left the harbour.
Everybody on the beach followed it until it had vanished on the
southern horizon.
Fourth: Meeting
The seas of Crete were clear. The sun directly overhead threw its light
into the waters so there were some plants to be seen and many fish.
Sometimes reflections of light sparkled like colourful diamonds.
Theseus stood at the railing and looked down. Perhaps it could be
golden ducats or shiny jewels from sunken ships. Perhaps it could be
the iridescent scales of the goddesses of the sea. Maybe big mussels
that had opened their mouths widely that Theseus could adore their
treasures. But probably it was just the flash of huge fish swarms,
caused by the sun.
Theseus thought about all the weapons he had hidden in the depths of
the ship's belly: spears, shields, swords, armours. But what was the
use of them? Suddenly he wasn't so sure about the success of his plan.
How to fight an Cretan army? When all that he had was six scared young
men and the crew of the ship he wasn't sure they would participate?
Just a trick would help him if he didn't want to have his own country
involved in a war. Crete had mighty allies.
He sensed a touch on his shoulder and he looked into Ricos' concerned
face. Theseus lifted his brows, "I thought you're busy with a hot
threesome down in the cabins with the two effeminate."
Ricos frowned. "Don't be funny."
"Funny? I have heard you too often. Are they allowing you to mount
them?"
"Sure." Ricos said dryly. "While you're too much of a sissy for that."
With one swift motion Theseus grobed Ricos' toga over his chest. "Don't
talk to me like this. I am not a sissy!"
Ricos' face was haughty. "Sure you are. Don't worry, I won't ask you
again. I just thought before we all die you'd like to have this
experience. It doesn't hurt more than your several scars you've
suffered. You want to die without having had real sex?"
Theseus' hand went limp and he turned back to the sea. Ricos was right.
He was proud of his virility but he was afraid of not having everything
under control. To lay and wait until a man entered him was an imagination
too much over the top for him.
"It doesn't matter anymore", he said after a while.
"Why? Have you given up? What's with your plan?"
"I don't have a plan", Theseus squeezed out.
"What? The great Theseus hasn't a plan? How's that?" Ricos mocked
and Theseus eyes flashed spitefully.
"I'm not invincible and the master of a thousand ideas."
Ricos was bewildered. This was a new side. He always had known the
demanding, yet giving prince, charming and cheeky. He was a Greek Fire
in bed and Ricos forgave his childish fits of vanity. Yet Theseus wasn't
the man of his dreams.
"Hey", Ricos turned Theseus to him and put his hands upon his shoulders.
"Perhaps Minos will set us free when he sees who's coming to be sacrificed.
He has lost a son too and must know the sorrow and grief Aegeus is feeling.
Above all, you're his only son."
Theseus smiled thinly. "There are siblings Ariadne and Arian, right? It
is said that both are seducing the victims before they are sacrificed."
Ricos grinned. "If he let me mount him it's all right with me. The last
fuck before I die."
Theseus nodded. "And there's even some fun for the women lover. What do
you think will happen?"
A squeak interrupted him. Otos and Pallas came running up the stairs from
the cabins, both pretty deranged and coal lined eyes smeared. Both were
chasing each other across the deck. The sailors laughed.
Theseus rolled his eyes. "Brainless guys." But then he had to laugh and
Ricos joined him. "Let's enjoy our last days."
The island of Crete shimmered violet in the distance. Nicos, the helmsman,
pointed across the sea. "Crete!", he called. Wind puffed out the black
sails.
The low buildings were dazzling white and of a soft grey. They were grouped
around the shore, building a harbour town. Otherwise the landscape was
barren. White stones and low bushes on the shore, behind towered the grey
mountains. Theseus screwed up his eyes for he detected a small group on
the beach. Weapons flashed in the sun. The reception committee. Even Otos
and Pallas were silent when they stood in a line on deck, watching the
ship arriving in the harbour.
On the double, the Cretan guards filled the ship, took the victims into
their middle and guided them slowly down, through a crowd of people.
Theseus saw them dressed differently to Athens' fashion with dark red
clothes, like old blood, the ornaments he couldn't recognize. They were
silent like Athens' citizens had been there on the Acropolis, watching
and pointing with fingers at them. Theseus certainly had the feeling
that pity hung in the air.
"Look, those funny braids," Ricos whispered at his side. The guards,
in full armour, had their long hair plaited into braids of all possible
colours. He detected even blond ones and adored them. But there was no
time left for them to ponder Crete's fashion style, for they had to keep
pace with the soldiers.
Knossos' palace was a wide area. Four wings arranged around a central
courtyard. Round, thick pillars of the colour of the people's tunics -
old blood - were supporting the roof. It was decorated with the double
axe: the sign of mother Rhea.
Behind him he heard the scared whispers of the other youths coming with
him from Athens; he could smell their fears. Then he felt Ricos' hand
sneaking into his palm and he held it tight. Hand in hand they passed
the pillars and entered the palace.
Flaming torches along the walls guided them until they stopped in front
of a large wooden door. It was opened and they were pushed through it.
Dazzling light from opposite windows. Old blood on the walls and azure
blue dolphins swimming in a sea of white.
To the left was a stone throne; in front of it three figures - tall and
as stony as the throne. Just the eyes glistened. The man in the middle
beckoned them to come nearer and the seven young men lined up in front
of him.
The large, black eyes examined them one by one, from head to toes and
nodded.
"Welcome to Crete". A resounding voice. "I'm glad your father made
us the most precious gift, Theseus. I am pleased."
Theseus' eyes scurried to the humans beside King Minos. To the right
was a man. Blond braid, glass green eyes, a body firm as a warrior,
naked upper arms decorated with broad golden rings, a thin ring around
his forehead. Or was it a scar?
The figure to the left was a woman, similar to the young man, presumably
siblings. Her skirt fell straight from her hips and then filled out to
a wide hem. There too was a belt around her tiny waist and above the
skirt she wore a tight-fitting short sleeved bodice. Her breasts were
entirely exposed with the bodice laced up below her bust.
Theseus didn't know what to think; was this Cretan fashion? Her skirt
had nature designs, fish and birds in brilliant colours that matched
the colours of the throne room. A purple ribbon looped in her white
hair and broad, golden rings decorated her neck and arms.
Her face was haughty and her eyes were like two pieces of burning glass
with which she pierced Theseus blue ones. He felt naked under this stare
and helpless. He remembered briefly Ricos' words about their seducing
the victims first. His look returned to the young man to the king's
right side. He needed a hard, manly breast; and hips without the fatty
softness of a woman.
The young man looked straight into Theseus' eyes, motionless like a
statue, but Theseus sensed no harm coming from him.
Minos looked at Theseus' and Ricos' tortuous hands and smiled, amused.
"If your father thought to appeal to my pity in sending his own son to
be sacrificed, he is mistaken. This fate was promised by the Gods. I
can't fight against the will of the Gods. Neither me nor you." His tone
was a trace sharper. He approached Athens' prince. "Let this be a warning.
No one ever escapes fate. Nor the labyrinth."
"Labyrinth?" Theseus voice was rough as if he hadn't spoken in ages.
Minos smiled. "You will see. Tomorrow." The siblings clapped their hands
and the guards appeared again. The young man with the white braid joined
them and together they went out of the throne room and the palace.
"Follow me to the Little Palace", he said. His voice was smooth and
low. But Theseus thought it dangerously low.
"You all will stay here where I and my sister have our residence.
Nobody shall ever say we treat our prisoners badly", he said to Theseus.
Theseus thought he saw a faint smile around his red lips. Despite the
lightness of his hair, his skin was bronzed and made the light eyes all
the more remarkable. "I am Arian, the king's son", he continued.
"What will happen tomorrow, Arian, Minos' son?" Theseus asked without
awe.
"You will see."
"I prefer to know about the danger I throw myself into."
Arian didn't respond.
"The woman . . . your sister?"
Arian nodded and made an inviting gesture. "Follow me upstairs. I'm
sure you all want to refresh yourself. Slaves will be at your service
soon." He turned and stood now chest to chest with Theseus. His breath
was like rosemary. "Make no mistake. No thought about flight. The palace
area is well protected but you can go where you wish with in these walls.
Again Theseus thought he saw a smile in Arian's eyes, but then the prince
of Crete was gone.
"Phew", Riches' said when they were alone. "You have an extra room,
the fortune of a prince. I have to share the room with Otos and Pallas."
"Pure temptation", Theseus sighed and sat down on the surprisingly
soft mattress of the broad bed.
"Pretty luxurious, don't you think?" Ricos said.
"You're pretty perky considering you'll be dead tomorrow at this time",
Theseus said in a sinister voice..
"Well, I still rely on you." Ricos sat beside him. "We don't have a
chance to bring our weapons from the ship?"
"The captain and sailors will bring them but you heard what Arian said.
The palace area is well guarded. They will probably be caught."
The door opened without warning and Arian's sister entered the room. She
carried a bowl of water and towels. Ricos and Theseus rose and the first
one vanished quickly after receiving a sharp glance from her eyes.
"I'm glad to meet you, Athens' prince," she said with a dark voice,
putting down the bowel upon a table.
"Thank you. Although I don't understand the comfort and the attention.
It doesn't change our state as prisoner and condemned to death."
She smiled. But the smile didn't reach her eyes. "We are not like those
Spartans. Luxury is one of our joyful things. Enjoy the last day of your
life."
Theseus jerked as if he had burnt himself. "Is there no escape?"
"Believe me, no escape." She approached him with the wet cloth and
started to wipe him gently over his face, taking sweat and dust away.
"I mean . . . I thought . . . you . . . perhaps . . . .?" Theseus'
eyes pleaded, but she laughed. "Forget this plan. I'm the daughter of
my father, the king of Crete. Who am I to question his orders?"
Glass green eyes, near; open mouth, the tongue shimmering red, pushing
now forward between Theseus' lips, when he realized that she was kissing
him. Her hand snaking along his body, searching for his private parts.
He felt disgust and without thinking he pushed her away.
"You might be Minos' daughter but I don't know your name," he lied,
but he was in high anger. He had to control himself not to wipe his lips
where she had kissed him.
She swayed a little and the smile on her face never returned.
"So you are playing in my brother's league, yes? Is everybody in
Athens a lover of his own gender? Is there nothing left for me?"
"I'm sure there is. Just don't knock on the door of the two
effeminate. The rest you can have except my friend Ricos."
Theseus almost ducked under her hateful stare. She dropped the towel
she held. "I am Ariadne, princess of Crete. And I chose the men myself."
She turned and closed the door behind her.
Theseus sank sighing once more upon the bed. The last thing he needed
now was an offended woman. He should gather his men to have a discussion
but the slaves arrived and guided him to the bath where he fell asleep
under softly kneading hands.
Fifth: Fulfilment
He woke up when a hand was touching him on the naked shoulder. Startled
he rose to find Arian standing there. "Your friends are in their chambers
again. If you like to talk with them, you're free to do so. But I assume
you're hungry."
Theseus took the bath towel, wrapped himself and followed Arian to his
room. He was surprised to see this polite treatment. He felt almost like
a welcomed guest to another cultivated kingdom. He couldn't deny that
Crete was indeed a cultivated kingdom . . . despite all.
Surprised, he saw the table filled with dishes; fried fish with a spicy
sauce, fresh bread, olives and goat cheese, dates, figs and grapes;
everything Athens gets from foreign countries.
His mouth watered. But before he devoured the fish he took the bread,
crumbled a piece of it to the ground and murmured words. And before he
took the chalice full of Samos wine he sprinkled a little of it on the
ground, praying to Apollo and Athena.
Arian sat opposite and watched him. "Ariadne is keen on you. She always
wants what I have. But there's no chance for her, she being the king's
daughter."
Theseus stopped chewing. "What do you have that she wants?"
"Well, men for instance. It's not considered proper for a king's
daughter to jump from bed to bed."
Theseus had finished his fish and laid down the fork. "So it is true
what they are telling. First you both rape the men before they are
sacrificed.
Arian laughed. A rich sound and long missed. At the same time both
heard the moaning of a female voice coming from another room. Arian
lifted his brows but said nothing. After the moaning had exploded into
a randy cry he said, "No rape. Just entertainment."
Theseus' heart started to pound. He rose and walked over to the bed.
"Tell me about tomorrow."
"There's a labyrinth. It was built by Daedalus, a most skilful
artificer. The labyrinth is an edifice with numberless winding passages
and turnings opening into one another, and seeming to have neither
beginning nor end, like the river Maeander, which returns on itself,
and flows now onward, now backward, in its course to the sea."
"And what is hidden in the labyrinth?"
"Your fate."
His tunic was short. Very short. And when Arian sat down beside him on
the bed, facing him, he had a glimpse of his bare buttocks. Beautiful
firm buttocks, just perfect to take his manhood. Theseus shifted and
gazed at Arian's blond, almost white hair he had bound into a braid,
that fell over his back. Theseus imagined undoing this braid to see the
hair flooding over the pillow beneath him. His eyebrows were surprisingly
dark and made a perfect bow over his glass green eyes. It made the face
clear in its structure, the mouth was soft yet had a hard line in it.
It spoke of willpower, and the long scar that led across his forehead
right under the hairline, made him look as if he was wearing a hair band,
a ring around his head. Theseus liked it; he had several scars himself
as proof of his adventures.
"You're bound to die", Arian said, while taking a black olive into
his mouth.
"I'm not." Theseus told him, took the fresh bread and broke off a
piece, watching Arian's raised brows. "You're not? How?"
"You'll give me a sword and I'll kill the monster."
"How do you know there's a monster?" Arian asked sharply.
"It's a rumour that spread to Attica. None of the youths returned
to my hometown; so we assume they are fed to a brute."
Arian fell silent and chewed more olives. He drank from the spiced,
heavy wine. Then he took the small leather bag he had brought and
showed Theseus a red ball of wool.
"What's this? No sword?"
"You'll get a sword and this." Arian said solemnly. "We tie it at
the gate to the labyrinth and it will lead us back."
"Us?"
Arian placed the goblet on the table and looked penetratingly at Theseus.
"Us. My father promised to stop this unmerciful tribute once the Minotaur
is dead."
"Minotaur?"
"A man with the head of a bull. Gloomy, fiery, brutal. A man eater."
Theseus tried to keep his countenance calm and unchanged.
"No one has ever survived," Arian continued. His stare was even deeper.
"But I've never seen a man who came here that looked like you. Someone who
has the power to fight. With me." He slid nearer. "Somebody who could fight
with me. Together. All of them were just children. You're not."
His hand reached to his shoulder and loosened the fibula that held his
chiton. His upper body was revealed and Theseus swallowed. He sensed
power when Arian approached him. This was the first man who could
overpower him. Yes. Arian's green eyes were near. Big, clear, not
blinking. The lips curled up and spoke a word Theseus didn't understand,
but it was too late; the lips had pressed upon his own and engaged him
into a kiss that made him lose his mind. Theseus hands were all over
Arian's body suddenly, tugging at the chiton but the leather girdle
stopped him. His hand slid along Arian's strong legs, creeping under
the hem of the cloth, tickling the ball sack, hairless, smooth like
the rest of his body. He loosened his girdle and the chiton fell to
the ground.
"You're coming with me to fight the bull?" Arian stood like a statue,
looking at him.
"Yes." Theseus said and then there was just a tangle of arms, legs,
sucking mouths and licking tongues, showing the scars they had, the
trophies of all their victories, rolling over the bed, mouths clamped
around cocks, exchanging all fluids they had to give.
Then Arian suddenly stopped the action when Theseus wanted to push his
cock into the crack of Arian's buttocks. Sweaty and with loosened braid
he sat upright. "I'm the master here", he said.
Theseus sat speechless then started to laugh. "That was my part actually."
He remembered Ricos' words about being a sissy. Perhaps he had met now
another sissy.
Arian's dark eyebrows jumped up. "Beat the monster and we toss coins
for who is doing whom." His eyes were laughing.
"Settled."
"Settled."
Theseus hadn't enough of his mouth though, so he pulled him closer again,
his hands roaming over Arian's shoulders. "I always win." He muffled.
"Do you? Me too." Arian slid into his chiton and Theseus looked
surprised. "You're not staying with me tonight?"
Arian shook his had. "No. I will see you when the sun is rising."
Mount Olympus
Rosy-cheeked Eos just arrived at the halls of Mount Olympus. She dropped
down her blood-red chiton she was wearing when she played sundown for the
human's down on earth and dressed into her comfortable robe. Then she
placed herself next to Hera, watching her usually miserable face. She's
getting old, Eos thought, amused that she had a couple of thousand years
to stay very young - measured by earthly time. Even the Gods were aging
when they didn't have their weekly portion of Ambrosia. And Hera -
inflamed with rage at the dalliances of her husband, Zeus - had
occasionally forgotten to eat.
"How are things, my dear?" Eos said with honeyed voice.
"Oh well, my dear. Those bandages are killing me." Hera pointed to
her legs. "My dearest Asclepios came around to do his monthly visit and
gave me this for my veins. Then he gave good advice for my sciatica."
"You should simply keep it warm."
"Of course it does me harm", Hera said reproachful. She didn't hear
all that well lately. "And then look at this old horny chap." She pointed
over to a God with wine-leaves all over his head, he had decorated himself
with them. "That's really amusing. Did you know that the time is ripe for
this Cretan prince?"
Eos watched the God looking into a big, flat bowl of red wine as if he
had fallen in love with himself, like Narcissus. But Narcissus was saved
since Eros and Butterfly had redeemed his brother's soul to rejoin both
in Hades' Underworld. Eos sighed contently. This had been an adventure
the Olympic Gods had long to chatter about.
"No, dearest Hera, let me know about our Dionysos. Has he fallen
finally for himself because he's always looking too fondly into the
wine-mirror?"
"Oh no, my dear. He is watching the Cretan prince. You know that my
husband, Zeus, visits Mount Ida each year on Crete where he had been
brought up by the goat Amalthea when his father was after his life. Do
you remember?"
Eos nodded. Of course she didn't remember because it happened long before
her time.
"Well, Dionysos accompanied him once when Arian, the son of Crete's
king, grew up to a stunning male beauty. Dionysos fell in love instantly.
He told us that his beauty even matched Apollo's or his little friend
Hyacinthos - may the Gods be gracious with him. Well, he's not my taste
exactly."
"And now? Dionysos indulges himself in adoration from a distance?"
"No! I told you that the time is ripe to pluck him. Dionysos will
abduct him to Naxos. You know that this is his favourite island. He's
working on a love-nest." Hera giggled hoarsly. "About time that he
vanishes. I have born him too long, this bastard."
Eos remembered the old grudge coming from an affair Zeus had had with
the earthly woman Semele. Hera in her rage, came to Semele and advised
her to ask Zeus to appear in his real figure. Semele accepted and Zeus
had vowed by the river Styx to fulfill Semele's plea. So he had to appear
in fire and flame - his real figure. Semele burnt to ashes but Hermes
quickly saved the unborn Dionysos, and sewed the baby into Zeus' calf
where he grew until he was born. Hera's grudge wasn't calmed so Dionysos
had to be raised up in the mountains, dressed as a girl, until Zeus had
brought him here to Mount Olympus. After all he was his son - one of the
many.
Dionysos now took the bowl and carried it cautiously away, into his
private rooms in the palace. His tamed panther followed on silent feet.
There he stretched out on the feather bed beside his master.
Dionysos didn't want to miss what happened in the palace of Knossos,
especially now that Arian and Theseus were a tangle on the bed. He
felt a tickle in his loins, so he tugged at his tunic until he lay
naked on his stomach, the feathers tickling his wet erection.
This Theseus was well equipped - this he had to admit and Dionysos
forgave Arian's horniness. He couldn't wait until he would have Arian
for himself to teach him the love of a God, to feed him Ambrosia, and...
Ambrosia, holy Earthquake! He jumped up and rang a tiny, golden bell.
A minute later a youth entered his room, decoratively dressed in a blue
tunic, feet naked, the hazelnut eyes framed and underlined with a thin
coal line: Ganymede, Zeus' private toy.
Ganymede looked briefly at Dionysos' straining erection and the droplets
running along the veined shaft. The tray he carried trembled a little
and the small bowl with rosy Ambrosia threatened to slip down.
Dionysos laughed quietly. "My shy Ganymede. Am I that exciting to
watch?" He took the tray and put it on the table, then he stroked the
youth's smooth cheek. "Come here, share this with me." He held out the
golden spoon and fed Ganymede before he took some himself. His cock was
quivering.
"Is Zeus out and you are lonely? You know I don't interfere with the
matters of my father, but . . ."
"Zeus is out," Ganymede said with a young voice. He knew that the
love of a God was pure heaven, so he never minded a side track with
others like Apollo or Hermes. Zeus didn't have to know. His hand snaked
around Dionysos' penis and he smiled when the God of the wine and grapes
closed his eyes.
Sixth: Battlefield
Theseus didn't sleep much. All his senses were too aroused to find
peace. He still smelled Arian when his head hit the pillow, rosemary
and a little of wild animal. Sex, where the sheets were still damp from
his juice. He also thought about Ricos and matched both. But Ricos - he
was sure - would find pleasure tonight in the arms of Otos and Pallas.
But he wasn't envious, for Arian was a man he had dreamt of for a long
time. He was all man. Theseus almost forgot that he had just found him
and had to leave him forever. Would he fulfil his promise and bring the
weapons and fight with him against the strange man-bull?
Theseus was awakened by a soft touch on his cock. Lips brushed the
sensitive skin and when he opened his eyes, he looked into a glass
green world.
"Do this again, please," Theseus murmured still half asleep but the
green world vanished. Arian pulled him up to his feet.
"Next time," he said very low. "First we must save your life."
Theseus saw a bowl with fresh water and towels and went naked to wash
himself quickly. Then he took the bread Arian handed him, crumbled a
little of it and sent a silent prayer to Apollo and Athena. He relied
on them, no matter what, like he had many times before. Nonetheless his
heart pounded painfully. If he should lose his life today it would be
together with Arian. Perhaps. How brave was Arian, he would see soon.
Crete's prince had stepped behind him, pressed his erection between
Theseus' cheeks and embraced him. Theseus body responded despite his
fear but Arian made no move to touch him. "Stay so. There's nothing
better for a fight than a sexual arousal. We both will be great."
Theseus swallowed the rest of the bread, turned in Arian's arms and
felt his straining erection under the loin cloth. He wore nothing more,
but his body glistened with oil.
"Here," Arian tossed Theseus a loin cloth too and poured oil over
his body. Theseus was used to it; the oil made it difficult for an
assailant to catch him. He closed his eyes and enjoyed Arian's strong
fingers before he felt his lips being parted and engaged in a firey
kiss. He moaned and stroked over the prince's body, but Arian stepped
back.
"Come now." He gave him a sword and a dagger which he put into the
belt of the loin cloth. Then he followed Arian.
It was shortly before sunrise. Knossos' palace lay in silence still
when they passed sleeping guards. Arian explained he had given them a
sedative as a good night drink.
The entrance to the labyrinth was a cave in the mountains. Arian stopped
and pointed to an iron gate. "There will be some light inside coming
from holes in the ceiling. The rest is by the entrance. Torch light."
Abruptly he turned his head. "Ssht," he made and listened. Theseus heard
nothing. "I thought I heard footsteps. Pull off your sandals," he said.
Theseus did and stood then as Arian did: barefeet, oily and with a still
aching erection. He didn't know what happened with him. And he wasn't
sure what would guide him through this wicked maze: the excitement of
killing a brute or the excitement to devour Arian afterwards. With skin
and bones . . .
Arian leaned against the iron gate and it swung inward. They were met
with gloom, a foul smell, wet and filled with fear: the stench of men
meeting death. Theseus curled up his nose and wiped over his hair band
around his forehead. Arian tugged at his braid, falling down to his hips.
"Did you never cut it?" Theseus asked.
"Huh? Never since I was a baby." Arian smiled. "The game is on. Follow
me."
He entered the labyrinth, stopped shortly to bind the red woollen thread
around an iron ring next to the gate and took a torch. Then both vanished
around the first corner.
A dark shadow moved between the small trees and sandaled feet followed
their way.
Water dropped from the walls. It was cool but Theseus sweated. At his
side he saw Arian's body reflecting the light. Drops of sweat ran along
his cheeks. He reached out his hand and stopped Theseus' walk. He listened
again. "Don't you hear that?"
A sinister sniffing. Theseus got goosebumps. "I don't mean this sniffing.
There are human steps."
"It can't."
But Arian's senses were sharp. Nonetheless he went on. Again a sniff.
Brutish swelling nostrils. Scratching in darkness, then stomping feet.
"Funny," Arian shivered. "I thought he had no hooves. Just human feet."
"Have you ever seen him?"
"Yes."
"Yes?"
"Ssht!" Arian flashed at him annoyed. He carefully held the ball of
wool and watched its run behind them. Theseus had not known the way back
for a long time. Too many turns and corners.
"You've seen him? Where?" he asked again.
Arian stopped and leaned against a wall, made from square stones. "When
he was a baby. New born."
Theseus watched him attentively but Arian shook his head. "Come along,
we have no time for a women's chattering."
He peered around a corner but it was a dead end. They turned and tried
another way. Wedged in those high walls that reached to the mountain's
ceiling, Theseus felt sick. Already now he longed to see the sun and
feel the endless blue sky above his head. Sweat drenched his loin cloth;
his erection had gone long time ago. How could he have thought it would
be a lazy walk?
A roar sounded as coming from behind them, making both jump. But their
swords didn't tremble in their hands. Arian just dropped the ball of red
wool and it rolled away, Arian followed quickly. He rose again and saw
a shadow on the wall. A horned head, big with an open muzzle, his beefy
cock sticking out, strong and full of life. Arian gulped empty and
beckoned Theseus, who crept nearer. He snatched a glimpse of the
silhouette before it was gone. All that was left was a hoarsely
breathing, hot and heavy.
"The centre of this labyrinth must be near."
Theseus sweated like mad. The handle of his sword was slippery. Again
a roar, a scraping over cold stone. Near. Close. A cry. Running feet,
splashing over stone and through water puddles. Blindly they ran behind,
tripping over the red thread, but everything was silent again.
"There!" Theseus' arm pointed to the center of the maze. A bed with
dishevelled clothes. From the ceiling hung a rope with a bucket.
Presumably someone was feeding him this way. Surely he couldn't live
by eating and waiting seven years for a supply of young sacrificed men.
Arian tripped over bones. Grey, strangely gleaming bones. Nibbled, clean
and neat. Some of them still stood as the skeleton of the men they used
to be. Arian and Theseus stood and stared, then both looked into each
other's eyes. A shadow gliding over the walls. Horns, a hairy head,
hanging throat, muscled arms, hands with nails, bent and strong like
claws. He was chasing another man, jumping into the room like hole.
"Ricos!" Theseus shouted. "Watch out!" But the Minotaur started to
jump. He was over Ricos in a flash. Ricos fell to the ground, a fleshy,
iron hard bull's cock pressing between the crack of his buttocks.
"No!" A mutual scream from two throats; swords flashing in the torch
light, sticking in fixtures on the walls.
The red thread was used up and stretched. Arian noticed it in a small
corner of his mind, then he saw Theseus running shouting to the brute,
swing his sword. Ricos' movements were feeble, weak and finally subsided.
The Minotaur must have broken his spine. He panted, slavered, licked
with long, rough, red tongue on Ricos' neck and dug his huge cock into
Ricos' body, his blood-shot eyes contorted and watching Theseus running
to him with pulled sword. The blond one was coming from the other side.
He smelled no fear, just resolution. He growled dangerously.
"Up, you brute. Get up!" Theseus shouted. Arian nodded and slipped
over behind the bull's back. Slowly he rose, Ricos' didn't move.
"Ricos? Ricos? Are you all right?" Ricos' didn't move. Tears in
Theseus' eyes clouded his vision. "You stupid thing. Why did you have
to follow?"
Minotaur roared, the head bent back. The walls were trembling. Arian
and Theseus circled around him, the bull-man turned with them, carefully
watching from which side the attack would come.
The red thread suddenly lost it's ability to stretch and lay curled up
like a long, red worm. Arian hesitated but forgot it instantly when the
Minotaur jumped on him. He swung his sword and scraped Minotaure's
shoulder. Blood splattered on him. Theseus attacked him from behind
but missed him.
"Do you know the way out, Asterion?" Arian asked suddenly. Theseus
wondered.
"Do you?" Arian shouted.
Asterion shook his head in circles. It could mean everything. Arian made
a jump, and pressed his sword against Minotaur's throat. Both fell to the
ground, next to Ricos. Asterion panted. Saliva flew in tiny flecks from
his muzzle.
"Tell me and you'll live." Arian hissed. Theseus didn't understand but
stepped over Minotaur's body, straddling it and threatening him with his
sword. A wrong idea for Asterion kicked him in his private parts, Theseus
whined, fell onto his back and hit his head on the ground; the sword
flying away in a high arch. For a few seconds he saw stars and lost
consciousness.
When he awoke he saw Arian wrestling with the man with the bull's head.
Theseus saw red and stormed up, couldn't find his sword and pulled out
his dagger. He ran over and buried it deep into the place where he
assumed Asterion's heart to be.
"Theseus, no!"
But Theseus didn't hear him; his senses were numb; he just felt the
iron going deep into pliable flesh while he turned the hilt to make
sure the monster wouldn't survive.
"Theseus! What have you done? We're locked up here forever!" Arian
shouted.
Theseus stood dumbfounded.
Arian jumped to his feet. "Do you see the thread anywhere?" he still
shouted. "It's gone. Somebody has cut the thread and taken it away."
Not believing Theseus searched the ground. It had vanished indeed.
All was silent except Asterion's laboured breath. A gargle came from
his mouth and bloody spittle. He moaned, his hand pressed around the
hilt of the dagger. Arian knelt beside the dying creature and looked
for the first time into the sort of human-like eyes of his half-brother.
Theseus did the same and was about to pull out the weapon when Arian
stopped him.
"Please, the way out", he said.
Asterion's mind was clear. Words were forming in his head. He felt
funny, light headed while he felt his life ebbing away. He knew he
couldn't do any harm anymore but the fire within him was still there.
If he could just move... Oddly he still felt aroused, the horny feelings
hadn't subsided since he had received the deadly wound. It didn't hurt
at all. Perhaps he was dead already. He turned his head a little and
looked at Ricos' mute body and felt regret for the first time. What
was the difference between life and death? The place where he was
bound to go now was just a change from one prison into another.
"The way out." Arian's voice was sharper. "You know it."
Asterion's body moved; he tried to get up. Just a small trace of blood
made a thin red line from the dagger, leading down to his abdomen. Arian
held his arm and helped him. He swayed but stood.
"Take ... take him", came from his muzzle, more of a grunt, the thick
tongue not able to form the words perfectly.
"He ... must be ... buried."
Theseus looked bewildered. "You can talk?"
"It ... was ... curse ..." Asterion gargled. "Fate."
"It was the guilt of our mother", Arian started. His voice was low
and sad. "I'll explain later." And, looking at his half-brother, "You
have killed too many youths. Perhaps you'll find salvation down in the
Underworld. We pray to the Gods above. But you can do at least one good
thing: show us the way out."
Asterion bent his head. He still swayed a little but was determined to go.
Arian stepped over to Ricos and lifted him from the ground. From his lips
hung a thin bloody thread. Theseus lovingly wiped it away, as he did to
the dust from his cheeks and forehead. Then he kissed him a last time.
The man with the bull's head set one foot after the other, out of the
cave and seemed to follow secret signs. Theseus had taken Ricos' dead
body from Arian's arms while the Cretan prince took Theseus' broken
sword and a torch. He tried to figure out what signs Asterion was
following and he thought that the stones of the labyrinth seemed to
have different colours - or there was a different style in which the
walls had been built.
Blood broke from the Minotaur's muzzle and he coughed bellowing. The
torch threw his shadow on the walls: the hilt of the knife still in
his breast - sticking out like his stiff cock used to be. Now he was
beaten and he didn't regret it. It would all have an end now.
The vertically built stones led them to the exit. A mindful visitor
would surely have noticed but the youths who had ended their lives here
hadn't been visitors. Asterion's senses dwindled. He was weak. Very weak.
The light started to fade. He broke down, his heart too painful to pump
blood through his veins but it started to flutter.
Asterion bent beside him. He called his name.
"Stones ... vertical .... follow." Asterion coughed again and blood
streamed from his mouth.
"I am ... sorry." His breath stopped.
Arian remained several seconds beside his body, closed his brother's
eyes and then heaved the body over his shoulder; he didn't want to leave
him here without a burial and his soul without hope of salvation.
Theseus took the torch and examined the walls. "Does he mean the stones
are vertically laid? Look, all the walls here are vertical." They went
slowly on, met several ways with horizontal stones and searched for the
verticals. Arian wheezed, his brother's body was heavy, but then he saw
light, the torch paled.
Arian and Theseus let out a mutual sigh. More of a moan. Both were blood
soiled and carried two corpses outside the labyrinth, as far away from
the entrance as they could, hidden within a small forest.
They lay down their burden onto the soft grass and stretched themselves
out, backs leaning against a willow, eyes closed, thinking nothing.
Theseus still held Ricos' body, slowly getting cold, and pain tugged
at his heart. He wiped his face, smearing his blood all over and mingled
it with Asterion's. "We must bury him", he whispered.
"Both", Arian whispered back.
Theseus shifted Ricos' body and slipped nearer to Arian. "What is your
secret connection? You know his name. I didn't expect the Minotaur to
have a name."
"He has." Arian answered tiredly. "It was a curse. My father's sin.
He sinned against the Gods. Poseidon." He turned his eyes to Theseus.
"Poseidon once gave my father a white bull that rose from the seas.
He was the living proof that King Minos was a protege of the Olympic Gods.
Of course the bull should be sacrificed but my father liked him too much,
so he let him live and sacrificed another instead. " Arian paused. He
plucked some leaves from the tree and played with them. Theseus waited.
He saw how hard it was for Arian to speak about it. "Well, Poseidon got
angry and inflamed a shameful lust in our mother. The lust for the white
bull." He spoke hastily now and bent his head. "Asterion was the result."
"So you're half-brothers! That's how you saw him as a baby."
Arian nodded.
Theseus didn't know what to think. Of course the Gods are mighty and
powerful. The humans on earth were just their puppets. Somehow he felt
pity for Asterion. What a wasted life.
Arian took a deep breath. "The curse is over. The Minotaur is dead and
my father has to keep his promise: no more tribute from Athens." A thin
smile curled his lips when he looked at Athens' prince. "I told you we
would be great."
>From his shoulder dripped blood where Asterion's claws had hurt him but
he didn't feel it. "Was he your lover?" he asked, pointing at Ricos.
Theseus nodded and Arian pulled him into a tight embrace. His arms snaked
around Ricos too and connected them all three, then he rose. His face had
lost its softness. "Work to do, Theseus. Do you have any idea who could
have cut the thread?"
"Huh?" Theseus had forgotten the thread. He rose too and again took
Ricos' body into his arms. He followed Arian who had stormed up, leaving
the Minotaur behind, lying under the willow tree, the sun shining through
the thin, long leaves, bathing his body for the first time in warm sunshine.
Seventh: Departure
Just from afar Theseus heard quarrelling voices; he quickened his
steps despite the burden of Ricos' body.
"You've almost killed us!" Arian shouted.
When Theseus turned a corner that ended at the entrance gate of the
labyrinth he saw Arian standing there, hands propped upon his hips
with a red face, shouting down his sister.
"So what?! You've killed our brother!" Ariadne shouted back. "I
was close behind you, don't worry, I wouldn't have let you die. Just
him." Her head pointed with an abrupt and angry movement at Theseus.
"Shall I believe this?" Arian cried. "You're disgusting. Always you
try to destroy what I love."
"And you always get what I want!" She stomped with her naked foot.
The siblings stood there with craned heads, the red woollen ball lay
between their feet.
"Since when do you care for our brother? Go back and slip into the
bed of a man who appreciates a woman and leave the rest alone. You can
tell our father that the curse is over like his merciless order to
Athens."
He looked briefly at Theseus with Ricos' body still in his arms. "After
the funeral, I'm off."
Theseus' heart pounded. Did this mean he wanted to go with him? Back to
Athens? Arian stepped to him and took over Ricos' body and went on to
Knossos' palace.
There they were met by King Minos, his guard and the rest of the seven
youths from Athens, ready to be sent to the labyrinth. Theseus was a
silent spectator when Arian laid down Ricos to the ground in front of
his father's feet.
"Asterion's body lays under a willow tree. He is beaten and the
tribute has an end, Poseidon hopefully appeased," he said solemnly,
watching his father sharply.
It was quiet. King Minos spoke nothing when he first looked down, then
examined his blood soiled son then Athen's prince. From behind he heard
Otos and Pallas sobbing. Then he straightened his shoulders and called:
"You are free. Although Theseus had received help." Minos hesitated
and turned his eyes to his son, looking him up and down. "It is surely
against the rules, but so be it. Minotaur is dead. Sail back to Athens
and give King Aegeus a message: From now on the tribute to Crete is
fulfilled. He can be proud of his son. The funeral will take place
tonight."
With that he turned and vanished into the palace, followed by his daughter
Ariadne, throwing a spiteful glance at Theseus and her brother.
Both shared a bath while Ricos and Asterion were prepared for their
long journey. Both were washed and oiled, then clad with fresh garments,
the face uncovered. Then they were wrapped with waxen clothes and put
into two coffins.
Theseus and Arian, both clean and recovered, held coins in their hands.
Theseus opened Ricos' mouth and placed his coin upon the tongue and
Arian did the same for the Minotaur. This was a tribute for Charon,
the ferryman, to ship them over the river Acheron where they hopefully
would arrive in Elysium to live there forever. Well, Arian wasn't so
sure about that where Asterion was concerned. But perhaps the under
worldly Gods would show mercy.
Theseus and Arian didn't speak much the whole day, too sad about Ricos'
loss and the other remaining five where quiet as well. Just when Otos
and Pallas came back from the king's audience, they broke the silence.
Both had decided to stay in Crete for they hadn't anybody waiting for
them in Athens.
By nightfall they carried the coffins out of the palace area, following
a road lined with tombs and monuments, steles and plates with three
dimensional ornaments or scenes of Gods and the lives of the people
buried there.
At the end of the street they stopped and slaves, from the wood brought
in, erected two funeral pyres where they placed down the coffins. Pines
were giving deep shadows, lightened by the fire that burnt high, consuming
the bodies. Theseus blinked his tears away. Arian held his hand and gave
him comfort while Otos and Pallas cried openly. Priests of Knossos poured
out their amphorae, brought as a gift for the Gods. Theseus knew they
all had to take the troubles of a long and complicated cleaning ceremony
now, like the palace had to be cleaned with sea water from the shadows
of the death.
"Tomorrow when the ashes are cold, we'll return to gather them,"
Arian whispered. He had promised that Theseus would bring back Ricos
remains in a lekythos, a vase for ashes and bones, to give them to his
parents. Asterion would have a monument, although Theseus didn't feel
exactly well about this.
The fire had burnt down and it was getting cold. Arian in his grey
himaiton shuddered.
"What did you mean when you said you'll be off from here?" Theseus
whispered beside Arian. Both shared Arian's bed, but none of them had
wasted a thought about having sex. They were mentally much too exhausted.
"I can't live here anymore. I was waiting for you." Arian whispered
back.
"But your father . . . aren't you supposed to be his successor? He
will never let you go."
"My father isn't that old. He will still live many years if the Gods
are willing." He opened his eyes. "And you? After you Athens' throne
will be abandoned. Or do you have a son?"
"No." Theseus was sick at the thought of how a son would have to be
produced, but he knew that Arian was right. He pressed his body tightly
into Arian's arms and tried not to think about it.
The sun was already high when Theseus awoke alone. He still wondered
when Arian entered his room, carrying a white lekythos and placed it
upon a table.
"Ricos," Theseus said sadly but Arian pulled him up and dragged him
to the bath where they received a massage that made them feel new born
afterwards.
Mount Olympus
Dionysos celebrated. With wine-befuddled brain he stared into the
wine-mirror and mourned a little about Ricos but not seriously. He
moaned while he was pushing in and pulling out his hard penis, using
Ganymede's willing arse hole. Well, perhaps not that willing; but as
the God's servant he had to obey and all the others Dionysos would like
to fuck with weren't available. Beautiful Apollo for instance had only
a sick smile for his offer and Hermes was always away. His movements
went frantic and Ganymede still moaned. Dionysos tried to persuade
himself it was lustful moans, but he knew better. Ganymede wanted this
to end. One last plunge and he emptied his divine semen into the boy,
then he pulled out and turned Ganymede to his back. His cock was
flaccid and Dionysos was disappointed. Perhaps he should have given
him wine. He watched the boy get up and leave wordless with legs apart
to his private rooms.
Oh well. Once he had Arian under him - the guy was still a virgin - it
would be a feast. Dionysos groped for his glass and raised it to Arian's
image in the wine mirror, sleeping peacefully in Theseus' arms.
* * *
King Minos let Arian go rather sadly, but he knew he couldn't hold back
his son. That his daughter had tried to kill them both, he didn't know
and Arian didn't bother to tell his father. May the Erinnyes haunt her.
Now she had another entertainment for one youth of Athens was determined
to marry her. He had lost his heart (or his brain according to Theseus)
and Theseus hadn't objected. He might find out soon that he wasn't the
only man to share the king's daughter's bed.
So it came that just two remained to sail back with them to Athens:
Lykos and Sandokos.
It was night. Nicos, the helmsman moved the steering wheel very gently
for the sea was calm. The sky was a velvet blanket; twinkling stars -
blue and orange - appeared as though deliberately rolled from a giant's
hand.
Theseus saw the twins, Castor and Polydeukes, and the cancer: the dark
secret gate from which the human souls came down to earth. Right over
his head was the Little Bear, once the big hunter Arkas, grandson of
Zeus, and the polar star, guiding the ship northwards to the shore of
Attica. He was looking forward to see the Acropolis again, the Agora
and all the places he had learned to love. His father was waiting
impatiently for his return and he was proud to bring not only himself
alive but a lover Aegeus could be proud of too.
Arian was silent beside him and stared up to the firmament.
"We have to get water at Naxos," Theseus spoke; Arian nodded.
Starlight was upon his blond braid. Theseus still hadn't seen it open.
He reached out and let his hand trail along to Arian's hips, where the
hair ended; short before his protruding buttocks. He loosened the band
and untangled the braid before he stepped behind and embraced him. He
felt power streaming from the Cretan's body. Power that transmitted
to himself and turned into a great affection within his soul. Arian's
body relaxed, and he leaned against Theseus. "Do you remember the coin?"
he asked.
"Sure."
Arian turned in his arms. "Not now. Not the swaying, rocking cabin where
everybody can hear us."
Theseus was surprised at his sensitivity. Arian - the warrior - had a
gentle side and Theseus loved it because it woke this side in himself.
He smiled. "Agreed. My rooms at Athens' palace are very quiet." Now he
grinned, and covered Arian's lips with his own, sucked at the luscious
under lip and traced it with his tongue. Arian purred. "It shouldn't stop
us from doing other exciting things," he said and pulled Theseus with him
downstairs into the ship's belly.
Eighth: Poseidon's Game
Naxos was a small island, usually visited by ships to gather water, food
and fruits, so the island had a harbour, a small town and lots of gardens
where the inhabitants grew fruits and vegetables.
Nowadays there spread a rumour among them. About wild men, shoulders
draped with fawn skins, with goat feet, carrying swords and serpents.
They were flushed with wine and scared Naxos' people to death.
They had gathered in a new palace that had appeared there amid a little
olive grove from one day to the other and the people whispered about a
God's miracle. They knew that Dionysos had selected their island as his
favourite place but he always had come alone - just now and then
accompanied by his old mentor Silenus, an extremely fat man, clumsy
and always drunken; the nose a red chunk from all the wine he consumed.
The whole crowd sang delirious verses and accompanied themselves with
cymbals and flutes. The citizens locked up their sons for some of them
had vanished and those who returned were hardly alive. They prayed to
Apollo to take this plague away, but the master of the Muses, of singing
and joy, seemed not to listen.
When Theseus' ship arrived they were pleased and honoured Attica's prince
highest, the more when they learnt that Theseus had beat another monster
and freed Athens from its horrid tribute.
Dionysos, propped upon his thyrsus - his ivy twined staff - bit into a
bunch of blue grapes. He chewed while the juice ran down his chin and
soiled his green tunic.
"Now, Silenus, is the time. Arian has arrived - my promised man. I
will make him happy. Make him my slave."
"Slave?" Silenus croaked. He was slumped on a settee and fondled the
tame panther behind the ear. Loud, deep purring filled the atrium of
Dionysos' new palace. He drank from a golden goblet. "I thought you had
fallen in love with him since you saw him years ago."
"I have," Dionysos answered. "I meant, I will show him my divine love
so that he will lay at my feet and never want to go away."
"Show him your divine spear', Silenus giggled drunkenly. A tent built
under his tunic. When he was filled with wine he was incredible horny but
nobody wanted to fuck with him, so Dionysos brought him the caught youths
from Naxos' village. He used them and handed them over to the entourage -
their wild man - who certainly had fun with them.
Silenus still giggled and rubbed his pole under the clothes. Dionysos
looked disgusted at him and turned to a table where a big portion of
rosey Ambrosia waited for him in a silver bowl. Young Ganymede had
provided him with this because he needed it double for he wanted to
look young and healthy and firm for his lover to be.
"Stop that foolish giggling, Silenus," he said sharply. "And spare
me the look of your old, used tool. If you need it that badly ask
Pandrosis if he would lick it." He looked at the black panther, and
another outburst of giggling followed. Silenus rose groaning from the
settee and Pandrosis followed him into the palace.
Dionysos emptied the bowl noisily. This brew was an uncooked mixture
of honey, water, fruits, olive oil, cheese and barley - and a special
"pink dust," prepared by Ganymede, that turned this rather unappetizing
dish to a really divine tasting meal. Oh yes, he could feel it already:
his skin taut, the wrinkles straightened, his flabby flesh got firm and
he felt five hundred years younger. Then he took his thyrsus and another
bunch of grapes and went out to the shore to watch Arian's arrival.
Hidden behind a building he watched the arrival of a vessel. His cock
enlarged almost against his will. Arian's light coloured braid fought
with the sun's brightness and his body had his cock leaking like mad.
Tonight, he thought. Tonight you are mine. He followed them carefully,
watched them ask for a meal, for water and groceries.
The sun was setting already when they had everything they needed. "I'll
be back soon," Theseus promised, "and then we'll enjoy an evening on land."
He twinkled at Arian who twinkled back. "Hurry up."
Together with Lykos and Sandokos, Theseus stepped into the vessel and
shipped back. Arian, meanwhile, strolled through the village, over the
agora and was greeted with recognition. Of course they knew Crete's
prince. They marvelled over his colourful clothes, the skirt and the
broad, golden arm rings.
Dionysos remained at a deserted shore, afar from the harbour and spread
his arms.
"Poseidon!," he called. "Poseidon! Your nephew Dionysos is calling
you!"
Silence. Little waves leaped at the sand. They they licked at his golden
sandals. Later they played with his ankles.
"Poseidon!"
A water whirlpool built and among the swirling water appeared wild, white
horses. Blue dolphins sprang. An ugly head appeared with hair from seaweed.
Sea horses were glued in them. Poseidon heaved his mighty body out of the
water, his long beard green, blue and dripping, his trident in one big
hand.
Dionysos bowed. "Dearest uncle." He tried a smile but was a little scared
of his grudged uncle. He could never be sure about his moods.
"What is your wish?" Poseidon roared; he had to over cry the splashing
of his horses, that reared up around him. "Or do you want to hold small
talk?" He swung his trident.
"Oh ... no!" Dionysos shrunk back. "You now about the Prince of Crete."
Poseidon laughed. Dolphins sprang. "Your beloved and adored Arian? Of
course I know him. Me and his father still bear an old grudge. And
Theseus caught and killed my white bull."
"Right. Now I beg you to help me out. It seems as if Theseus wants
to steal my promised one. But he belongs to me. How can we play a trick
on him?"
"Get him out of the way? Noting easier than this." Poseidon - like all
Gods always up for a little joke - turned and faced the ship, anchored a
mile from the harbour. He dove his finger into the sea and sprinkled water
into the wind.
It started as a rolling of waves. More wild horses shook their manes and
kicked with their hooves. The waves rolled strangely from the shore to
the wide sea, directly to Theseus' ship. It started to sway, then fiercely,
until it rode on the crests of the waves for the anchor had broken. They
heard scared cried from deck and now and again a shadow appeared,
frantically trying to strike the sails for the ship drifting off to the
high seas.
Poseidon laughed and Dionysos joined him. "This will keep him away a
while. Use your time, nephew." He submerged into the sea, the trident
was the last to vanish into the whirlpool. The storm was still on, but
the land didn't know about it.
Dionysos grinned and wiped his hands. "Now, my beauty, just one thing
to do and I'm coming." He pursed his lips and started to whistle - a
deceptive imitation to a bird - until night swallows answered him.
Dionysos went on, entered the village, the birds following, twittering
away in the night.
Wherever he passed, the people closed their eyes and started a stupid
smile for Morpheus had sent them sweet dreams. He followed his father -
Hypnos - from tree to tree until half the town was asleep, including
Arian under an olive tree.
The swallows sat beside him and changed into their usually human
appearance. Young Morpheus with rainbow hair, colourful like all dreams;
one side of his face smooth and calm the other side a nasty nightmare.
He and Hypnos - the God of sleep - wore back robes to their ankles with
silvery star dust. Hypnos - black wings on his shoulders - was more of
a grey pulsating shadow, sometimes bright, then pale, in the rhythm of
a steady, sleep drunken breath.
Dionysos bowed once more. "Thanks for coming from Lemnos. I hope I
didn't interrupt important things."
"No damages if you make it short," Hypnos answered with gentle voice.
Dionysos had the impression he heard it from afar, an echo of dreams,
sand instead of water that ran through a clepsydra.
Whenever he passed, the people closed their eyes and started a stupid
smile for Morpheus had sent them sweet dreams. He followed his father -
Hypnos from tree to tree until half the town was asleep, including Arian
under an olive tree.
The swallows sat beside him and changed into their usual human appearance.
Black wings flapped around them silently. Young Morpheus with rainbow hair,
colourful like all dreams; one side of his face smooth and calm, the other
side a nasty nightmare. He and Hypnos - the God of sleep - wore black
robes to their ankles with silvery star dust. Hypnos - black wings on
his shoulders - was more of a grey pulsating shadow, sometime bright,
then pale, in the rhythm of a steady sleep drunken breath.
Dionysos bowed once more. "Lord over all mortal men and all gods . . .
I'm thankful you came from lemnos. I hope I didn't interrupt important
things."
No damages if you make it short," Hypnos answered with gentle voice.
Dionysos had the impression he was hearing it from afar, an echo of
dreams, sand instead of water that ran through a clepsydra.
Dionysos didn't have to tell him what he was pleading for. Unaffected
he lifted the branch he was carrying. Honey coloured water dripped off
it. It was the dew of Lethe, the river of oblivion.
He lifted Arian's eyelids and sprinkled them. Arian's eyes didn't close
again and Dionysos laughed joyfully. "You do it like with Endymion,
your beloved one?"
Hypnos raised one eyebrow, but then a smile scurried over his pulsating
face. Hypnos' madness for the pretty shepherd boy was a source of gossip
upon Olympus. He was that mad for him that Hypnos doesn't close Endymion's
eyes even while he is sleeping, but lulled him to rest with eyes wide
open, so that Hypnos may, without interruption, enjoy the pleasure of
gazing into those brown pools.
Hypnos soft voice whispered: "Sleep come, embracing all his limbs and
with my wings fold him to my loving breast."
"Hey, he is mine," Dionysos objected.
"Of course. Arian will not remember Theseus when he awakes."
Morpheus watched silently. Actually he should work his miracle now
and give Arian sweet dreams, but he wasn't exactly pleased by this game.
He looked scowling at the tent building under Dionysos' soiled green
tunic. "Don't hurt him," he said, "he's a virgin."
But Dionysos didn't listen. He fell to his knees beside the Cretan
prince and sniffed him like a dog. From the hair, he tried to untangle
from its braid, down along the arms and finally he lifted Arian's skirt
to stare at the resting manhood, sleeping like the prince himself.
Dionysos licked his lips. Morpheus threw nervous glances at his father
who returned the stares. A wink connoted him to leave but Morpheus
hesitated. One last thing he wanted to do for him: give him back his
memory in dreams. Morpheus closed his rainbow eyes and concentrated.
A pale shadow embraced Arian's body very briefly, hardly noticed by
the horny God of wine. Then Morpheus and his father had changed back
in to night swallows.
Dionysos hardly noticed that the gods had left him, so concentrated
he was on the things to come. But he didn't want Arian to be asleep
when he would have the experience of his life. Dionysos snapped with
his fingers in front of Arian's face and Arian awoke. The glass green
eyes blinked, focused on a guy bent over him, lying almost between his
legs. He noticed his skirt was turned back. He blinked once more. The
long, brown curls were held by a ring of fresh wine leaves and his
green tunic was rumpled. His face, though attractive, seemed a little
unsteady, blurred, as if a second image lie over it. The eyes were
lustful and the colour of amber wine.
"Hello precious," he said. His voice was full sounding, with a
touch of an echo in it, as it was the characteristic feature of a God's
voice.
"Look, everything is quiet. Just the night birds are singing their
music to our celebration.
Arian came up to his elbows. "Celebration?"
"Yes, beloved," Dionysos cooed, his member expanding. Discretely he
tugged at his tunic until his naked manhood lay exactly over Arian's.
Arian crept over the feeling of something supernatural happening. Wasn't
it the Gods who were supposed to have an echoing voice and sort of a
golden aura around their bodies?
"Tonight is our night, my promised one," Dionysos continued. "I've
waited for you so long."
"But . . ." Arian was stopped by Dionysos' long finger across his
lips. "I brought you here for mutual pleasure. Look, the grass is soft
and dry and here's a feather cover for us. I brought it with me from
my homestead."
Arian looked dazed. Homestead? Mount Olympus? But why was he chosen to
be beloved by a God? He surely had come here but . . . A flash of a
ship entered his head and instantly he looked over to see a shore and
the wide area of water behind, but he couldn't find it.
Dionysos turned his head around. "Look at me, beloved. You won't find
anything else there." He started a slow moving, a rubbing over Arian's
abdomen to sway his lust. Then he opened the felt to his skirt and
cooed even more. Yes. If he really wanted to, he could be soft, although
this didn't satisfy him. He didn't want to wait. Didn't want to take
his time, wait for Arian until he was ready for him.
Out of the blue he conjured an amphora of wine and two chalices.
"Drink and relax."
"What is it?" Arian sniffed and drank finally, but before he could
swallow he had another vision: A cave. Darkness, highlighted by torches.
Animal smell. The flash of a dagger piercing warm flesh.
Arian coughed. Dionysos wiped spilled wine from his chin. He was worried.
Somehow Arian seemed to be distracted. Did Hypnos drip too little water
of oblivion into his eyes? He doubled his efforts. "You said we would
throw a coin, do you remember?" And the amber eyes penetrated Arian's.
He nodded slowly. Yes, he could remember. There was a night, no, an
evening. A sexual encounter, full of promises. And he was so much in
love . . . His heart started to pound painfully, but not without
anticipation.
"It's either me or you who will feel this." Dionysos' stiff cock
poked Arian's belly.
The silver coin flew high in the air and landed into Dionysos' palm.
He closed his hand. "Head or number?"
"Head," Arian said.
Dionysos showed him the coin. Athena's head was there with her helmet
and her owl. "You won and have to receive it." Dionysos knew he couldn't
have lost. He emptied another chalice and felt the alcohol running through
his divine veins. His eyes sent out a magic beam, meeting Arian and the
Cretan prince forgot his queasy feelings and the flashes didn't return.
Instead of his whole being was in turmoil, every fibre of his body was
on fire, and he stopped thinking and trying to remember anyway. There
was a great looking man - a God perhaps - wanting him and he would do
everything to please him.
Arian undressed him and saw what Dionysos wanted him to see: not the
wine caused flabbiness of his body but one that matched Arian's firm
warrior feature. Dionysos lay a hand over Arian's eyes, briefly, but
long enough that his body relaxed and he was open and ready.
Arian felt feathers behind his back when he lay back and opened his
legs for Dionysos.
Delighted the God bent over him and stroked over the prince's orifice,
a magic wave, and then they were out of time. Cicadas chirped and
nightingales sang so it seemed to Arian. But actually it was the wind
in the trees around and voices from far away. He thought to see blue
eyes instead of amber ones, but he could be mistaken. His aching penis
vanished into a moist hole that was his lover's mouth, and at the same
time he was filled with a bigness that stretched him well, gave him
pain but that was just an underlying feeling washed away my music in
his ears. He heard his lover talking to him but didn't understand the
words. The stranger was moving in him, hitting a blissful spot while
he had his legs wrapped around his lover's shoulders and he was doing
it all at once: pounding him, licking his cock, biting his nipples,
pulling out, turning, entering him again, shed his seed but remained
hard and hard and hard again.
What started as lustful dance became now pain and soreness but Dionysos
gave him more to drink. Arian forgot the pain and opened his legs once
more; he wanted it all, and the pain was dull, soothed by the God's
magic spell. He wanted the game out of control until the larks announced
dawn.
Eos started her journey on her chariot and stared at the scenery beneath
her on the isle of Naxos. She saw a white golden shimmering cloak of
hair covering the back of a male straddling old Dionysos laying on the
ground, enjoying the ride. She could hear the pants and uninhibited
cries that sounded up to her. Her cheeks turned crimson from embarrassment
and the morning dawn was exceptionally spectacular.
Arian soiled himself with white semen, spots that joined the old, brief
ones from before but he felt, this was the last. He was empty.
In the near distance he saw a figure standing. Petrified, mouth half
open. A shock of shiny half long, dark locks, a band around his forehead.
Radiating blue eyes.
Arian's tongue formed a word. A name. Without thinking he lifted his
body. Dionysos' cock came out with a soft plop but Arian barely noticed.
He walked up to the man waiting; his body sweat and cum covered, the hair
loose, wet, full of feathers and matted. Shortly before he reached the
waiting man, he turned and went away. Arian finally was ready to spill
out the name.
"Theseus!" Arian shouted. "Theseus," he whispered then. But Theseus
moved on.
Theseus? Arian thought. Where did this name come from?
But then Dionysos was beside him and put his arm around his shoulder.
"Come beloved. I promised you everlasting love. A place at my side.
Never ending youth." Again he put his palm over Arian's eyes and
Theseus' image vanished immediately. He looked at his lover, down
his beautiful body, the long spent, drooling cock that had given him
so much pleasure and so much pain.
Dionysos must have seen it in his eyes. He took Arian in his arms and
roamed his hands over Arian's buttocks. His fingers brushed the wound
and swollen orifice and the pain subsided.
"It will be healed when we have arrived at my home."
"Home. Here?"
"Sure. Naxos is my favourite isle. Come."
Weak willed Arian followed him. Part of him was afraid of the love
of a God for he didn't know what was waiting for him. The other part
was delighted, drunken for wine and happiness to have found a
counterpart that loved to love; mighty, without reason, without an end.
Ninth: The Love of a God
Theseus could have roared. He was so angry he stomped the grass under
his feet when he walked back to the village, never seeing the people
who wondered why they all had spent a night in uncomfortable positions
like on a stool, on the threshold of their shops, behind a market stand.
But they never cared because strange things happened before since the
island had been occupied by a God.
He didn't know what to do. What he had seen was too much to comprehend.
Just yesterday Arian was so promising. And now he had spent the night
in the arms of another, giving him his virginity while he actually had
spared it for him. So much for the first love of his life. Now he had
to carry on in finding a partner he could trust.
He halted and looked to the ground. The storm that had shook his ship
had come unexpectedly, like the discovery of this morning. They had
hardly been able to hold the ship under control until the storm suddenly
had stopped. Had this all happened per chance? And what had forced Arian
to surrender to a foreign man?
Unnoticed he had walked on and had reached the shore far away from the
harbour. There she was sitting on a rock, her golden aura inflamed her
peplos and the sun set her golden helmet on fire. He fell to his knees,
dazzled, never able to look up.
"My dear Theseus," she spoke with unearthly voice. "What bothers you?
Speak." She looked friendly at him and he found the guts to look up into
a pool of heaven blue eyes. He bowed very low, almost to his knees.
"Protector of Athen's people and myself," he mumbled. "I didn't know
that the Gods are among us."
He heard a soft giggle. "We are always with you."
It couldn't be right. If she would be there always, he wouldn't have
to suffer. But he didn't dare to speak.
"I know what your are thinking, Theseus." Athena rose and supported
herself upon her spear. "But you have never lost the belief in us. I
have seen it with my own eyes. I thank you for your faith and the
sacrifices.
"But I just did what others are doing."
"This may be right. But you believe what you are doing. Now,
listen. Eos told me what she had seen and she didn't like it. There's
my brother who was often prayed to by the friendly people of Naxos." She
pointed to a willow tree, where the God of the Muses leaned against, his
Kythera in hand.
Theseus didn't know what to do. His feature was dazzling him too, so he
had to squint his eyes. But he didn't dare to come up to his feet although
this position - on his knees - was uncomfortable and shameful.
"Stand up, Theseus. The prince of Attica doesn't need to kneel." His
voice had an echo and sounded loud over the land that Theseus seemed
everybody in the village must hear it. But then, it was so soft, as if
Apollo was speaking directly into his ear. "High goddess Hera decided
to rescue you. We just follow her order." He smiled and Theseus seemed
to sway. The smile stabbed his heart, then he had to smile himself. Of
course. A god could work miracles. Even with his smile.
"But . . . I don't understand. . ." he managed to say then. "What has
it to do with goddess Hera?"
"Well. . . our little brother, Dionysos. He is a nuisance." Apollo
loosened from the tree and stood upright. Suddenly his face was dark
and relentless. "It is time to learn a lesson." His eyes of a changing
colour - once sapphire blue, then grey as a winter's morning - pierced
Theseus'. Then they wandered over his face. Over his body, down to his
naked feet. Theseus jumped from one foot to the other, for in his body
awoke an ant's hill. He felt that the God liked what he saw but Theseus
was too afraid to be pleased. After all, he didn't want to wake the
interest of Apollo, God's gracious! But . . .
"You mean . . .'" Theseus stammered, "You mean, it was Dionysos, who
was . . ."
Athena and Apollo nodded in unison. "He fell in love with the Prince of
Crete a long time ago. He waited very long." They changed a view.
"Surprisingly long. Perhaps he waited until Arian fell really in love
so that his triumph could be higher. You understand?"
Theseus didn't move. He wasn't sure if he had understood right. Dionysos?
The God of wine? Had he made Arian drunken?
Apollo laughed. "Not only drunken, my dear Theseus. It's a spell. Arian
will not be able to loosen the spell by himself. Just when you love him.
Really love him. And if you obey." Again Theseus felt the ant's hill
when Apollo's eyes cruised his body. What would be the sacrifice for
him?
Apollo nodded. 'You know it', he heard the words in his mind. 'I can never
resist a man's strength.' Theseus returned the God's stare. 'This is the
price? You are not better than Dionysos.'
Apollo broke out into a heartfelt laughter. It sounded like the wind in
the trees. 'Well spoken. But think it over. You might enjoy it.'
Loudly the God said, "Be back when the sun is rising to another morning.
Help will be here. This is promised."
In the blink of an eye Athena and Apollo had vanished and Theseus
snapped out of his trance. Instantly he wondered if this wasn't just
a dream. But then his look fell upon the Kythera, that still leant
against the willow tree. Apollo had forgotten it. Cautiously he touched
the instrument and plucked a string. Instantly he held his palms over
his ears, for it was a terrible sound. Deep like coming from Tartarus.
Perhaps just a God was able to play it.
Prove your heart, Theseus. Was Arian worth it? To surrender? To surrender
himself and probably to a God that demanded tribute for his help? The
invincible Gods were relentless and selfish and even the soft Apollo
could be brutal and unjust. Think about Marsyas... He skinned him because
he thought he could beat Apollo in playing the flute - or was it the
Kythera? But then he could be soft as a summer's rain when he mourned
his beloved Hyacinthos and changed him into a flower...
But what would await himself? Stop being a coward, Theseus, he
admonished himself. It's not about your own wishes and fright. Arian
needs help and if you really want to keep him you have to bring a
sacrifice. Apollo stressed the word really. If I would really love
him. Do I? I'm not sure. Well, if you aren't sure, then you don't love.
Was he worth loving? That's a stupid question. Love doesn't ask for
worthiness. How many men did you possess? Definitely enough to learn
that you loved none of them. Well, Ricos perhaps. Sort of. But they
never matched yourself. Your counterpart. The other half. Arian did
know it right from the start. He was so sure that he gave up his home
for you and you took it for granted. He deserves better treatment and
a little pain on your side.
Unintentionally he plucked another string of Apollo's Kythera. This
time it was like lark's twittering invisible in the sky. Such a sweet
sound his heart ached. Was this Apollo's answer? Would he be gentle
with me? And did he love Arian enough to go through it? Perhaps for
the rest of his life? He shrugged. Who knows what was to come. Feelings
are a fickle thing. But right now and here he could answer the question
with yes and he meant it. He wanted to be happy and make him happy. And
if a sacrifice belonged to it - he would survive.
Chattering tore him off his musing. Looking up he saw Lykos and Sandokos
coming up to him with some food and a bowl of fresh water. "Have you
gone under the musicians?" Sandokos asked, pointing at Apollo's Kythera
Theseus pressed tightly.
Lykos squatted beside him. "Problems? Where's Arian?"
Theseus sighed. He didn't know himself so weak and hurt. And it was
hard to shake it off. What was the matter with him indeed?
Lykos plucked a string and there was again the sickening, deep
sound. Lykos and Sandokos pressed their palms over their ears, and
pulled grimaces. "What is this, for Hades' sake? Where have you found
it?"
"Arian is gone," Theseus mumbled. But where to, he thought. Was he
gone to Mount Olympus? No, Athena would have told him, and Apollo had
given the order to wait here for him.
"Arian's gone?"
"The people are telling strange stories," Sandokos said. "About a
God who has occupied the island. There's a place behind the oil grove."
He pointed to the distance where Theseus had found Arian.
"There?" Absentminded he stood and stared, then he started to run.
"Theseus!"
The calls died away behind him.
* * * *
The doors, leading to the Atrium, were closed as were Arian's eyes. He
lay in a water basin; blue dolphins on the bound and a mosaic of wine
leaves and blue grapes. Dionysos' hands washed him with a sponge, loosen
his muscles and making the pain vanish with each wipe. The God was
sitting behind him, embracing him while he felt the engorged member
in his back. He had the feeling that this stranger was everlastingly
aroused, but he couldn't tell if he himself was the reason or if this
was just his natural habit.
The door opened and several men enter the bath. They were naked except
for furs they were wearing and put them on the ground. They carried
plates with wine amphorae, grapes, nuts, bread and goat cheese. Arian's
mouth watered. He watched the men of several ages entering the basin,
grinning lasciviously and placing themselves around their pair. Arian
was served a cup of wine he greedily drank and instantly the colours
fluoresced. His head pulsated when he was fed grapes and white bread
when Dionysos' hand started to crawl into the sparse hair at the base
of Arian's member, Dionysos' own still one still poked the crack of
his arse. He didn't feel pain anymore and this was a good thing. He
always had been afraid of this pain - although a warrior should be
used to it. He opened his eyes. How did he know that he was a warrior
then?
A greedy mouth engulfed the tip of his penis and it rapidly raised and
enlarged to its full length. An involuntary moan escaped his mouth.
But instantly it was covered with another pair of lips while he felt
at the same time a cock enter in him from behind. Water splashed as
more satyrs approached him, starting to lick at his balls, suck his
cock and yet another bit his nipples. Arian was floating, not aware
of his lustful cries, not knowing if he cried for pain or for pleasure.
His hand groped around, found a mop of wiry hair, or a leg, a pole
standing upright or a naked arse. His mouth was stuffed with a penis
he greedily sucked at it.
Dionysos' movements shook his body and from half closed eyes he saw
the foreign, wild man mating frantically. It rang in his ears while
the room was echoing from panting and moaning, from sounds of flesh
to flesh. Then they were gone, leaving just the God with him, still
filling his bowels with his powerful pole, never knowing an end.
Arran saw white flecks floating away that was probably his own seed -
or of the others.
"This is what awaits you, beloved. Say yes, and you'll be immortal
like me." Dionysos hissed into his ear.
Arran saw a shadow from the corner of his eyes. There was a figure
peering through one of the windows that led to the garden around the
palace. The blue eyes were big and shocked. Motionless he stood there,
never able to go away. He had a raging hard on but wasn't aware of it.
What Theseus had witnessed was so over the top that he was indeed in a
state of shock. Arian doesn't seem to recognize him - as Apollo had said.
He was under a spell.
The God of wine turned his head and looked directly into Theseus' eyes.
A nasty smile played around his lips. Theseus saw one of his hands
playing with Arian's cock, made it still again and Arian seemed to
enjoy it. Theseus heart ached. Perhaps he should leave Arian where he
was? Being a toy of a God couldn't be that bad. Could it? Was it? Of
course it was bad, Theseus' inner voice told him. There was more than
never ending sex. But what if Arian didn't want nor need more. Did he
have the right to interfere?
There's a spell Theseus thought. Arian never made the impression that
he was just a sex toy. He had been waiting for him - Theseus - he had
told him. Then, when they were fighting the Minotaur.
Dionysos took a chalice and led it to Arian's mouth. Arian dank and
sighed contentedly. His stiff penis stuck out of the shallow water,
powerful, as Arians' being was. It jerked when Dionysos long fingers
touched it. Probably the God was still in him from behind. He wouldn't
leave much for Theseus when he was finished with him.
Theseus felt anger growing. If Arian just would fight the spell! Theseus
tried to enter the room by jumping through the window opening, but he
couldn't. An invincible wall was hindering him. His palms were stopped
when he tried to reach inside and once more the God's amber eyes met
his. Now they were not smiling but had a relentless look, that reminded
him of Apollo's face. You don't joke with the Gods, Theseus realized and
despair started to spread over him. There was nothing that he could do,
just wait until the next morning.
Dionysos emptied himself again into Arian's body. This was finally the
fulfilment of his dreams he thought. That Athens' prince had been a
helpless witness just heightened the fun. It was more than fun he thought.
If Arian would stay, the silent and weak willed toy, it would be like
the Fields of Elysium.
"I will call for Ganymede to bring us Ambrosia," he said low. His voice
was echoing over the water.
"Ganymede?" Arian asked dazed. He felt so tired yet excited. Every
muscle seemed to be inflamed, but he didn't dare to complain. His arse
started to hurt again when Dionysos pulled out of him. He was still hard
and slowly Arian felt repulsed. This wasn't human indeed. He turned and
stared into the God's amber eyes. "Who are you?" he asked seriously.
Dionysos offered him the chalice of red wine. "Drink, you will feel
better."
Arian sat his lips at the cool bronze metal and felt better indeed
afterwards. The pain in his body subsided.
"Don't you like the wine?"
Arian nodded.
"I'm the God of it. And now you're mine." Dionysos pressed his lips
upon Arian's and Arian just realized this moment that Dionysos had never
kissed him before. He had been too busy touching other parts of his body.
Arian didn't like it. His breath tasted like sour wine and his tongue was
spongy and rummaged in his mouth as if he had lost something. Arian tried
to escape but Dionysos' arms held him like a vice. He had surprisingly
strength and Arian wondered why he wasn't able to free himself. He was
strong himself. Then he had another flash: Soft, luscious lips were
caressing his mouth, a tongue that outlined his lips. Tasting sweet
like a peach. Involuntarily his eyes wandered to the window opening
to see if the stranger was still looking but he was gone. Strangely
he associated his flashes with the foreign man - what was his name?
Theseus? But he couldn't remember wherefrom he knew it.
Dionysos was still kissing him and Arian felt sick. The stiff penis
was poking his belly. Should this be his future? To be pierced and
impaled, pummeled and sucked off? His body never getting a rest, like
the God's one never seemed to be in need for a rest?
But the price was eternal youth. He had promised him Ambrosia. Wasn't
this the dish the Gods were served there on Mount Olympus? Would he
have a chance to fight him? Fight a God? No. The Gods are invincible.
Dionysos bit his under lip and Arian tasted blood. With a jolt he
loosened his body. Dionysos looked a little befuddled. He certainly
had too much wine ... and too much sex. Arian's face blurred. But he
didn't notice that the Cretan Prince was unwilling. "Where got you
this from?" Dionysos outlined the long scar around Arian's forehead.
"A hit from a sword", Arian answered instantly. Dionysos looked
mistrustful at him. Why he could remember while he actually shouldn't?
"Whose sword?" he asked.
"I don't know."
Dionysos wiped over it with his finger and it vanished. Lovingly the
God watched his work and found it good. But Arian still wondered who
had given him the scar.
"I don't know about you, beloved, but I 'm still terribly hungry,"
Dionysos said with a sly grin. Arian was certain that he didn't mean
the desires of an empty belly. Again nausea rose. He couldn't go on.
He would die here. Fucked to death so to say. He threw a sharp glance
into the God's face but couldn't say anything. He touched his forehead
where his scar used to be. He had never felt annoyed, it stressed his
state as Cretan warrior but now that it was gone, he was pleased. He
smiled at Dionysos. "Where am I going to sleep?" he asked.
"We." Dionysos corrected him and took him by the hand. Their naked
feet left wet foot prints on the ground. Dionysos' bedroom housed a bed
with feather covers and fluffy pillows. Wine leaves covered the walls.
When Arian touched them, they appeared living plants growing in huge
buckets, winding around wooden supports. Beams of the setting sun lit
the walls.
"I'll show you Olympus, beloved. You'll see then what you are
looking for," Dionysos said enthusiastically and filled a dish with
red wine and wiped his hands over it. The he pulled Arian to his side.
There were golden and crystal rooms that seemed to hover on clouds. He
saw goddess Hera swinging a white cow skin, a tamed peacock by her side,
watching her attentively. Behind her three crystal steps led up to her
ivory throne.
"What is she doing?" Arian asked.
"Look." Outside it started to rain softly. "She's making rain
when her husband is too busy." Again he wiped over the surface and
another picture appeared. Bearded Zeus amused himself with a young
man in his bed. Arian blinked.
"Ganymede," exclaimed Dionysos, not without jealousy in his voice.
"I have a go with him from time to time." He closed his eyes and
concentrated. Ganymede, on his back, opened his eyes and looked
directly into Dionysos' eyes. "I called him to serve us Ambrosia."
Arian watched in awe when another picture appeared. This time it was
Apollo in a pine tree grove. He was engaged in a talk with nine males,
different ages, in the distance Pegasus, the winged horse, peacefully
grazing. Upon Apollo's shoulder sat a white mouse. It knew the secrets
of the earth and whispered into the God's ear. Apollo turned his
bluebell's eyes and smiled, his gaze focused upon Arian. Arian jerked
back.
"Does he know we are watching him?"
"Perhaps." Dionysos wiped over the surface and the pictures vanished.
"Ganymede will be here very soon. What are we doing until?" Dionysos
grinned lasciviously. Both were still naked and the God's pole already
started to rise again. Arian stepped back quickly. He was tired and
exhausted and sad. He didn't know if he wanted all this. His heart
couldn't forget the foreign man at the window. Theseus . . .
Then he had another flash . . . a promise to give his cherry to him . . .
throwing a coin who would have the favour and the pleasure . . . Pleasure?
Well, yes. It was pleasure. Or it should be, he corrected himself, when
his heart would be connected. Now all he had was a tired body that needed
a rest. He felt Dionysos' hand trying to arouse him, but he failed.
A deep wrinkle appeared between the God's eyes. "Do you have enough of
me?" Do you want a chalice of wine?"
Arian shook his head.
"So what else?" Dionysos embraced Aran, thrusting his hips forward,
poking his belly with the stiff tool. "I'm sure you love a God's approach,
nobody is better on earth. I offer you everlasting pleasure so I demand a
little responsiveness from your side." His voice was sharp and Arian
flinched.
Dionysos sensed it and he laid his palm upon Arian's eyes. Instantly
Arian felt better and the sexual drive started again. His penis enlarged
and Dionysos giggled. "Much, much better."
But from outside there was bird's wings overdrew the rain's rustle in
the night. A ruby eyed, golden eagle, big enough to carry a man, landed
in the garden outside and Ganymede stepped from it. He stroked the bird's
neck, the eagle unfolded his wings and rose in the air.
"Ganymede!" Dionysos called pleased. "How do you feel about a
threesome?"
Ganymede pulled a face. "I had my share already, Dionysos."
"So? You're never averse to a little dalliance, are you?" Dionysos
said crossly.
"Let's have Ambrosia," Ganymede answered quickly.
Arian was frightened. He didn't want to eat, he didn't want to be
immortal. Not so soon. Not yet. Not without a talk with the stranger.
He looked pleadingly at Ganymede who returned the stare. Arian seemed
to see pity in his hazel eyes, understanding and a conspiracy perhaps.
Ganymede blinked. Was this a silent sign? He conjured a silver box from
his bag he carried and golden spoons.
"Let me fix it quickly," he said and walked over to a corner were
he placed the box and picked two plates. Arian couldn't see what he was
doing but Dionysos whispered into his ear, "It is a special mixture the
secret Ganymede knows exclusively. And Zeus of course. It will taste
heavenly, I promise you."
Arian's heart pounded. What should he do? Refuse to eat? He was sure
Dionysos would force him. And then? He would be immortal for always and
forever; he didn't know that it was possible to reverse the effect. After
all Ganymede had eaten it too, once a mortal human, just because Zeus fell
in love with him and brought him to Olympus for his private pleasure he
now had to serve all the Gods. And this until the world would fade. Was
this his destiny? The price? The price for what? What had he done to
arouse a God's interest? He wasn't that great of a beauty, there was
nothing interesting in him. Was there?
Ganymede turned, reaching out two plates with a rosy dish. It looked
too pink to eat but Dionysos eagerly grabbed it, held a spoonful under
his nose and sniffed. He gave approving sounds and in a second he had
gobbled it up. "Now you'" he said, licking his lips. He held out another
spoon but Arian didn't open his mouth. Instead his eyes were fixed on
Ganymede. The young man nodded and smiled a little. Perhaps he could
eat it, Arian thought. And he opened his mouth and swallowed. It didn't
taste that good as Dionysos had promised. When he ever had expected that
he would feel funny afterwards, like having a stomach ache or something,
there was nothing. He didn't feel strange, nor immortal.
Dionysos' eyes blinked sleepily and he yawned. "Bedtime, beloved." He
wanted to say something else but suddenly his body fell over and landed
upon the feather bed. Arian looked dismayed at Ganymede but the young man
still smiled.
"About time, Arian," he said. "He'll sleep until the morning when
Apollo comes."
"Apollo?" Arian didn't know what to think. "Can I flee?"
"No. You have to wait here. Don't be afraid. Apollo will come to
your help."
"But, I have eaten this . . ."
"This was nothing. No Ambrosia. Dionysos is so easy to deceive in
his wine befuddled brain." He laughed. It sounded like a bell. "Apollo
will come and everything will be good. This is promised."
With that he left the room and Arian didn't see him anymore. He didn't
know what to do. He stared at the snoring God, laying there upon his
bed like a beached whale when a panther slipped through the ajar door.
He stretched out beside his master and started a deep purring. Arian
didn't move. He watched the lithe animal until the blackbirds announced
another morning.
Tenth: The Sons of Memory
Blackbirds sang their twittering songs, greeting Eos on her chariot,
riding over the sky. Theseus rose from a drunken sleep and wondered how
he had been able to sleep anyway. He found himself under an olive tree
not far away from the palace. He wiped over his face and heard water's
mumbling. He looked around and saw a little spring between stones,
gargling over moss and tiny, white flowers. Thirstily he drank until
he felt he wasn't alone anymore. Muffled steps, like from a horse,
crossed the meadow. Looking up he saw a winged horse, white as snow
at the mountain's peak, shaking his mane, the wings glistening silvery
in the sunshine. Two males were stroking it, unusually tall and clad in
long tunics, that, when parted, revealed long legs. Theseus rose to his
feet and watched them turning to face him.
"Theseus," one spoke and his voice was melodious like a song. He had
violet eyes, hair of changing colour from gold to reddish, but Theseus
thought it might be the sun that hit his hair. Flowers grew in it.
"Apollo is late, but I see you have saved his Kythera." He pointed
with a long finger to the instrument lying in the grass. Theseus took
it and pressed it to his body.
"Who are you?" he stammered. This was all too much for him, although
he was prepared for Apollo's appearance. But these two males couldn't
be human too.
"I am Eraton," he said with his melodious voice. "The muse of love's
poetry."
"And I am Euterpe," the other male said, "the delight." Theseus saw
long chains around their necks with a lyre and a flute as golden, little
instruments. Euterpe's silver eyes contrasted with his long, straight,
chestnut-brown hair. "Here he is." he said nodding behind Theseus.
"Indeed, my dear, just in time, am I?" Apollo said amused. "I saw
you got friendly already. How have you spent the night?" He didn't await
an answer actually for he knew that Theseus was anxiously waiting.
"Dionysos played a little game last night with us. But I knew he was
watching, showing Arian Mount Olympus and trying to feed him Ambrosia."
"Ambrosia?" Theseus asked scared. "Does this mean he is . . ." But
instantly he remembered his discourtesy and bowed deeply. "I am sorry.
I forgot who you are."
Again Apollo laughed amused. "No formalities please. No need for thanks.
I do what I want to do, like I always did and always will. Now it's time
for our Dionysos to learn a lesson." He looked sharply at Theseus.
"No thanks?" Theseus still stammered. He had been so afraid that
the God would demand tribute. But apparently he wasn't interested
anymore.
"Eraton, Euterpe," Apollo said. "I will follow very soon. Leave us
alone please." The Muses went quickly away. No, they didn't went. They
danced.
"Arian didn't eat from Ambrosia. I had a little deal with our
Ganymede. Dionysos shall awake any minute and we shouldn't waste time."
He stopped and looked at the prince. "Come nearer," he said.
Theseus came closer, slowly and unsure. He feared the God's closeness.
He was not human. Heaven knew what he would feel like. But Apollo
stretched out a hand and pulled him even closer until he stood face
to face with the God. "Are you sure you want the Cretan prince?"
Theseus nodded weakly.
"You are unsure, I can feel it." Apollo smiled his breathtaking
smile. "What is the reason for this?"
"I . . . I don't know."
"Perhaps you want the love of a God instead of a mortal human being?"
Apollo probed.
Theseus shook his head. Now much more determined. Apollo's fingers
brushed his cheek. He ran over his lips and his chin. Then he pressed
his mouth upon Theseus' lips and Theseus felt a sharp burning. No, a
soft raindrop. The touch of a flower's leaf. Or a feather fell from the
sky. He struggled and Apollo gave him freedom. He still smiled. "I had
to do this," he said apologizing. "I am sorry."
Theseus eyes grew big. A God was apologizing?
"What a pity," Apollo said. "But it is your decision. You are free."
He stepped back and stretched out his arm, pointing at Dionysos' palace.
"Your beloved didn't have such a decision. He is still under the spell."
A bloodcurdling cry came from the palace window. Theseus jerked but
Apollo smiled. "He looked into a mirror, I think." And he walked on,
in the direction of the palace, Theseus following.
"What . . . . . what in Tartarus and all Hades' beasts is this?"
Dionysos cried, looking into the bronzed mirror hanging on a wall. A
face looked at him, a face that couldn't be his own. It was old. Very
old. Deep wrinkles appeared beside his nose, tearing down to the mouth
that was dry and small, the lips vanished, pulled into the mouth whose
teeth were rotten. Thick lachrymal sacks hung under his small and dull
eyes and his long hair had vanished. Instead there were just some feeble
strands falling along his forehead and his body felt weak and spongy and
flabby.
At the very moment music started. A flute was playing, soft and delightful,
sad and joyful. Euterpe stood outside the window and next to him, Eraton,
singing a song that tugged the heart. His eyes changed from violet to
indigo and his hair had a soft blue tone; the more he sang about love
the deeper his eyes grew, full of lust and love, and his hair had the
colour of a blue bell. Dionysos turned and held his palms over his ears.
"Stop it!" He shouted. "Stop that deplorable cat's music!!" He ran
around in the room and kicked Pandrosis, the Panther, who hissed and
tried to bite his master's calf.
But Arian in a corner woke up. His ears filled with a heavenly sound.
He saw another man, beautiful as Apollo himself, giving the singing man
a Kythera which he plucked now and the heartfelt song became music made
in Olympus itself.
The flowers in Eraton's hair started to bloom, winding down around his
neck until they covered his long tunic and he was flooded with sunlight.
Arian went out of the room, out of the palace to see them better, not
caring for Dionysos cries and shouts to stop the music and the singing.
And then he was there; the stranger. No. Theseus. The prince of Attica,
with whom he slaughtered the Minotaur. With whom he sailed away from
Crete to Athens, to be the man at his side. Theseus smiled relieved.
"Arian," he said.
There was Ganymede again, in the arms of Apollo, enjoying his kisses
and Arian felt he had to do the same. The Muses sang and played and
Dionysos' curses vanished from his mind.
"Let us go home," Theseus said. But Dionysos stood in the door
frame, still holding his palms over his head. But was it Dionysos
after all? He looked at least 1000 years old. . . .
"His real age," Apollo said, stroking through Ganymede's long hair.
"More that 1000 years. . ." he added dreamily. "Like me." Pegasus
neighed from a distance. It sounded like laughter.
"What is happening here?" Dionysos shouted. "Apollo, you brute. Give
me back my old appearance!"
"Well, you are old already. What do you want?" the God giggled but
got serious instantly. "This shall be your punishment. Your manhood
shall be sleeping a year long. I think it will only be thankful. One
year no wine. If you try to drink it will taste bitter like poison. One
year you should be the servant of the people of Naxos who have suffered
enough. Your home shall be a stable among the sheep and goats. Then you
are banished from this island. Like all of your entourage." He made a
wide movement with his arm and the palace was gone. Left was just a
place of meadow and pine trees. Apollo held a wine plant in his hand.
"Plant this into the earth and the yield should be abundant."
"But you can't do this, Apollo! You are not the only God here!"
Apollo laughed. "Complain to Hera, my dear. It is sealed." He looked
at Ganymede. "Come," he said. Together they went to Pegasus, got up and
rose into the air. "Farewell, Theseus, Arian," he shouted. "May the Gods
be gracious with you."
Eraton and Euterpe were still singing and playing and Dionysos started
to run. Pandrosis followed him, like the old, drunken Silenus who
staggered behind them. Theseus and Arian couldn't help but laugh. It
was so unreal they thought they were dreaming. Perhaps everything was
really a dream and when they would awaken upon their ship, they would
have the most heartfelt laughter ever.
But the music never stopped and Eraton was now singing about a labyrinth
on the isle of Crete and about two heroes who were fighting together a
man eating brute. They slaughtered him and promised to stay together.
Arian and Theseus looked at each other. "You did it for me?" Arian asked.
"No, for me," Theseus answered. "I didn't want you to be immortal. Better
to have a short life but be your own master than to be a servant of the
Gods. Don't you think?"
Arian sighed. "Yes." His heart was full of hope and he thought as long
as the Muses were playing, nothing bad could happen. He didn't imagine
what would happen should they ever stop. But perhaps they wouldn't. In
their hearts they would always play.
Theseus led him back to the village. All of a sudden he was terribly
hungry and Arian felt the same. After all he had just a spoonful of
"Ambrosia" last night. They sat and ate and Theseus never forgot to
bring a sacrifice to the Gods. He knew now it was never in vain.
Arian pointed to an old man with a soiled green tunic who pleaded
for lodging. He offered his work and help but nobody wanted to have
an old man.
It wasn't funny at all, but he knew Dionysos deserved nothing better.
After a year the spook would be over and he would probably be the same
as he was before. An all too horny chap, knowing nothing more than the
satisfaction of his urge.
In the late morning they entered the ship again and sailed away, leaving
Naxos behind, to never return.
"Do you remember the coin?" Theseus asked furitively when they were
standing side by side at the railing, watching the island vanishing in
the distance.
"We haven't thanked the Muses," Arian said instead.
"They need no thanks. They are free." Theseus answered, fully aware
that Arian dodged an answer. "I know what you were going through, love,"
he said then. "I was witness to what Dionysos and the other men did to
you," he said carefully.
"I saw you standing there but couldn't remember who you were. Just
your name. Sometimes." Arian said low. Theseus stroked his back and the
long hair, he had brushed and combed and put into a braid again.
"I need time, Theseus," he said and took a deep breath. "I'm not sure
if I will ever be ready."
Theseus nodded. It didn't matter. He could wait. Long. Even if it never
should happen. But Arian should know that he - Theseus - was ready for
it. It was promised and Theseus always held his promises. But it was
more than a promise because Theseus would do it for love, not for a
fulfilled promise.
They slept chastely pressed together in the same bed and this was all
that was needed.
When the shore of Attica came into sight, Theseus felt light and safe
and so happy he kissed Arian when the ship sailed into the harbour of
Piraeus. The Athenians stood and cried, waved their arms and hands for
joy to see their prince was safely back. Even Aegeus, Theseus' father
stood there with a pale face and dishevelled hair.
"Father!" Theseus shouted and jumped into his arms.
"I almost died, son." Aegeus stammered through tears. "I saw the
black sails and thought you dead. Just the strong grip of a soldier
beside me stopped me from jumping into the roaring sea."
Theseus looked guilty. He forgot to set the white sails for a happy
return and he promised to have a word with Nicos. But his anger went
up in smoke like mist in the morning. He was at home and Arian was with
him.
His father looked at the young man beside his son. "Arian? Minos' son?"
he asked. Arian bowed. "Myself."
"How do you know him?" Theseus asked surprised.
"Why shouldn't I. You are not long enough in Athens. Not long as
I am."
Theseus looked pleased. "He accompanied me to stay here with me, father."
He swallowed the rest he wanted to say. He wasn't ready for an open
commitment, like 'I love him' or so. Perhaps he did, but the first one
to hear these words wasn't his father.
Aegeus looked surprised but kept a friendly face. Whatever his son's
heart desired, it would be good.
Days were passing where they had to tell everybody in town what happened,
how they killed the Minotaur and how they escaped. But the very last
adventure they kept for themselves. It wasn't reasonable and nobody who
hadn't been present would understand a word. It was a secret they shared
with the Olmpian Gods.
Arian felt nervous. He longed for Theseus but was afraid of his closeness.
The bad experience vanished with each day but he could remember the pain...
and all the pleasure. But he never drank a drop of wine again. Theseus
didn't mind. Not the lack of wine nor the lack of a fulfilled promise.
But . . . he would fulfil the promise on his side.
One evening he played with a coin watching Athena's face with the helmet
and the tiny owl and smiled. She looked so differently to what the artist
had imagined her to look like. He threw it high in the air and Arian
snapped it on its flight down.
"Is this an illusion?" he asked playfully.
Theseus' heart pounded. "Actually not. "Well, perhaps yes." He rose and
went over to Arian sitting upon the bed they shared in Theseus' rooms
at the palace of Athens. Without a real thought he dropped his tunic and
squatted in front of Arian. "I do remember the coin, but I don't think
we need it."
Arian understood and opened his belt. They stared at each other and then
the lights went out and the music started once more. A Kythera and a flute,
singing in the night.
Theseus felt more than he saw Arian's body covering him from head to toe,
first with his body and then with his mouth. He didn't know how long he
bore this before he was a bundle of lust, wanting nothing more than to
be taken. Why he hadn't had these feelings before? Why did he wait so
long? Why had he thought he was too manly to be taken?
He felt Arian's glans at his entrance and pulled up his legs. It wasn't
easy, but it was getting better and the pain was short and overlaid by
Arian's kisses and soothing words.
And all that he could say was, "Come deeper. Deeper."
Arian lay full weight upon Theseus, his cock deliciously clamped
between their abdomens. His senses got mad, hovered somewhere outside
his consciousness.
"Deeper," he whispered hoarsely. Lips squashed his mouth, a tongue
stroking his palate, his own tongue searching, battling and then came
to a rest.
"Deeper."
Arian lifted his body and Theseus' penis was cold. It longed for a touch
and was receiving a wetness. A warm and velvet surrounding, a sucking on
the crown, a licking over the slit, drinking until it stopped.
"Deeper." Theseus bucked his spine, the mouth open in agony and then
Arian was gone, leaving an empty void that had to be refilled. Now Theseus
opened his eyes. The glass green ones stared into his own: now a dark,
jungle green from lust and he smiled. Theseus felt his mouth covered once
more while their abdomens rubbed each other, writhing like snakes, lithe
bodies, though heavy on weight; a virile dance.
Arian teased him, purred into his ear and finally turned him over,
Theseus' smooth buttocks in the air. He admired the two round globes,
rubbed his mouth over the velvet, muscular orbs, licked a wet line in
their centre, stormed the sweet bud of his hole until it opened again.
This was pure heaven, Theseus thought and regretted the time he had
wasted without any knowledge of it. Arian rolled upon him and rubbed
his penis in the spittle wet crack of his arse, the arms beside Theseus'
body and kissed his neck behind the ear.
"Deeper," Theseus responded and came to his knees, his penis aching,
heavy and wet from running fluids; panting when he sensed Arian's glans
at his entrance again, pushing back a little, until he was filled like
he was before. This time deeper he could imagine it would go, sighing
lustful and clenching his muscles in there to increase the friction.
Arian's hand sneaked around to play with his testicles, the fingers
soft as a warrior's could be, finding the hard, warm shaft and giving
it long strokes, painfully slow. But none of them was in a hurry.
"Did you really see me . . . . then?" Theseus asked low. I mean when
you. . ."
"When I'd lost my memory of you? Yes. I saw you and didn't recognize
you."
Cautiously Theseus lay down on his stomach; Arian followed his movement
and was stretched out upon him. He withstood the urge to move, to pull
out and in, to achieve bliss. He just lay down and listened to the
blood murmuring in his head. And finally he found he couldn't wait
to feel what Theseus felt right now. Dionysos was erased from his mind.
Just the Muses were still playing and singing.
"Do you feel good?" he asked.
"Not good. There's no word for this."
Arian smiled. "I understand."
"No, you can't. This ... God ... didn't do it out of love. Keep on
going now."
In the last moments, Arian turned Theseus to his side, grabbed his penis
and rubbed it with short strokes, in the same rhythm as his cock pounded
Theseus' arse hole, until both fell into rigid, blissful agony, their
bodies jerking, emptying and giving a mutual heartfelt sigh.
"I can't wait, Theseus. I must feel what you feel. You are right,
this God was nothing. He did nothing to me. Here." He touched the
breast over his heart.
Theseus stirred in his arms, not ready to let him go.
The flute was still playing, an ethereal sound outside the window or
perhaps just in their minds, but it seem to fill the room.
Theseus felt gentle. More gentle that he ever had been his whole life.
The music pierced his heart and he stroked Arian's damp hair that
covered his own chest and a part of the pillows. The white golden hair,
like spun silk.
Funny thoughts entered his mind. Thoughts of leaving it all behind: Athens,
his state as prince and the responsibility he was carrying for his folk and
to settle down here for all eternity. There would be no more wars for them;
they would have anything they need and they wouldn't need much.
His cock was still hard and so was Arian's. He started to stroke it again,
lazily, slowly, fully aware and full of affection. He heard Arian's quiet
laughter before their mouths found to a passionate kiss.
Theseus opened his eyes. The night was over and already the sun was
setting and ending another day. He couldn't count how often they had
united, never satisfied; but from the stinging pain he felt both in his
cock and his arse hole, it was more often that was reasonable. But he
smiled. Ricos had been right: He had been a sissy, not knowing what he
had been missing.
Arian stirred in his arms. The heavy hair tangled around them both like
a silky blanket. Their skin was sticky and filled with dried white spots
and smears, but Theseus had never felt so good before.
There was the sound of a Kythera and a flute again in his ear and it
made him happy. Perhaps this was Apollo's gift. Perhaps they would hear
it each time they made love.
"Do you hear it?" he whispered into Arian's ear.
"Yes. The Muses are singing."
The End
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