The White Bull by Fred Saberhagen Read Free Book Online

crowd of onlookers that had gathered around the argument. None of the Athenians took much notice of me at first; by now I was to all appearances a gray, middle-aged Cretan with the heavy calloused hands of a hardworking artisan—though I did wear certain signs of the king's continuing favor, in the form of heavy gold and silver ornaments on my fine white loincloth.
    A soldier looked around resentfully as I pushed on his shoulder to urge him from my path; then he recognized the pusher, closed his mouth, and stepped aside.
    "Prince Theseus," I said, standing at last before the tall youth. My hands went out in a gesture of deferential greeting, long unpracticed. "I rejoice that the gods have brought you safe again before my eyes after so many years. How goes it with your royal father?"
    Rather slowly the tall young man swung his dark gaze around, bringing it gradually into focus upon my face. Some of the sullen anger left the princely countenance.
    "Daedalus," he acknowledged. His nod, a gesture giving back unforced respect, became almost a bow as the strong, broad-shouldered body threatened momentarily to overbalance. "Daedalus, how many years has it been?"
    "Four years now, prince, since I fled your father's court—how is His Majesty?"
    Theseus belched faintly, and considered. "King Aegeus does well enough."
    "I am relieved to hear it." When I heard myself speak those words I realized that there was more than a little truth in them; Aegeus might have felt compelled to hang the slayer of his nephew, should that offender ever fall into his hands, but I had never thought that the King of Athens was actively my enemy. "When I saw your ship's black sails, I feared that they might bear news of tragedy. And you and your companions show some signs of being in mourning."
    "All m'family are healthy as war horses, Daedalus. Or they were when we sailed. The mourning is for ourselves. For our approaching…" With his big hands Theseus groped hopelessly for a word.
    "Immolation," cheerfully supplied one of the other young ash-smeared men.
    "Our immolation in the school. That's it." The heir to the Athenian throne smiled faintly at me. "So you may tell these officers that we are going to wear what we please to our own welcoming ceremony." He turned slightly and his dulled black eyes went roaming up the great stair-steps formed by the harbor town's white houses and warehouses and whorehouses, to fasten at last upon an outlying flank of the great complex formed by Labyrinth and House, just visible beyond a grove of cedars at the top of the first real ridge. "Where is the school?"
    "Up there where you are looking, prince. Not far beyond the portion of the House that you can see. Say an hour's walk from where we are standing." I observed the young man with sympathy. "So, I take it that you find the prospect of a student's life in Crete not much to your liking." By now, everyone around the two of us was attending to our dialogue, and all the other branches of the argument between Cretan officials and Athenian youth had ceased.
    "It's four years my father wants me to spend here, Daedalus." I knew the curriculum had just been expanded to that length. The princely cheeks, one of them already scarred with an old sword-wound like that of a veteran of forty, puffed out in another winey belch. "Four years. To get some kind of a piece of paper saying that I have achieved learning. That I am educated. Four god-blasted years, without any real break. I'm nineteen years old now." That last statement was uttered in despair, looking forward to a hopelessly distant twenty-three.
    "I know, I know." I grimaced in sympathy. Almost I put out a hand to take my young friend's arm; but that would be a little too familiar a way to treat royalty in public, even here in easy-going Crete. "Prince Theseus, will you walk up the hill with me? King Minos will want to know that you've arrived, and to see you promptly, I expect."
    "I bear him greetings from m'father."
    "Of