Percy Jackson and the Greek Heroes by Rick Riordan
Anyway, the third seven-year cycle was coming to a close. Fourteen tributes were due to be chosen in a few months, and everybody was freaking out.
Sound like enough problems for one city?
Nope. They had an extra bonus problem!
A huge wild bull was also rampaging around the countryside near a suburb called Marathon. Nobody had been able to stop it. The Athenians were pretty sure the Marathonian Bull was a sign from the gods: You people suck.
‘Wow,’ Theseus said to himself. ‘This place is seriously messed up. I love it! Lots to do!’
He wanted to get inside the palace and make sure his dad was okay, but that was harder than it sounded.
The guards were suspicious of assassins. They weren’t letting anybody in. And of course claiming to be Aegeus’s son would get Theseus killed in twenty different ways before he reached the throne room.
What I need, he thought, is a way to get an audience with the king without revealing my true identity.
He glanced at a nearby tavern, where the exterior wall was covered with leaflets. One of them read:
GET AN AUDIENCE WITH THE KING!*
KILL THE MARATHONIAN BULL!**
WIN FAME, RICHES AND DINNER
AT THE PALACE!***
*PALLANTIDES NOT ELIGIBLE.
**PROOF OF DEAD BULL REQUIRED.
***FAME MAY VARY. RICHES SUBJECT TO TAXES.
ALERT YOUR SERVER IF YOU HAVE FOOD ALLERGIES.
That’s it! Theseus thought. I will kill the Marathonian Bull and win dinner at the palace. Also, I have no food allergies!
Theseus set off to find the bull, but as soon as he left the city a massive thunderstorm rolled overhead. The clouds looked like boiling ink. Lightning ripped across the sky. The rain stung so bad that Theseus felt like he was walking into a sandblaster.
On the side of the road, he spotted a little hut and rushed inside.
An old woman sat by the fire, stirring a pot of soup. She didn’t look surprised to see him.
‘Welcome, young one,’ she said. ‘Big storm, eh?’
‘Yeah.’ Theseus set down his club. ‘You mind if I wait here for a while?’
‘Not at all. Off to kill the Marathonian Bull, are you?’
Theseus blinked. ‘How did you know that?’
‘My name is Hecale. I used to be a priestess of Zeus. I know many things.’
‘Oh …’ Theseus was starting to think he should’ve wiped his feet before tromping inside. ‘So … do you have any advice for me?’
Hecale chuckled. ‘That bull is sacred to Minos, the son of Zeus. That’s why Zeus won’t let anyone kill it. That’s also why the god sent this storm to stop you. If you promise to bring the bull back here after you capture it, I will sacrifice the animal to Zeus. That should please the lord of the sky.’
‘Done!’ Theseus said.
Immediately, the rain subsided. The thunder died. Theseus peeked outside and saw blue skies and heard birdies singing in the trees. ‘Wow. That was fast.’
‘Zeus doesn’t mess around,’ said Hecale. ‘Now, remember your promise!’
When Theseus got to Marathon, he saw a white bull charging around the abandoned village, knocking over houses and smashing through fences.
Theseus probably could’ve killed the bull with his club, but he needed to bring it back alive for the priestess to sacrifice. He decided to build a trap. He sneaked into one of the few remaining barns and rigged up some snares using ropes and pulleys, and bales of hay for counterweights.
He opened the barn door and waited until the bull was within earshot.
‘WOW!’ Theseus yelled. ‘There are some HOT COWS in this barn!’
The bull turned and snorted. He tilted his head, like Hot cows, you say?
‘You can’t have them!’ Theseus yelled. ‘They’re all mine! I think I’ll make hamburgers tonight! HAHAHAHA!’
He ran inside the barn.
The bull charged after him, determined to rescue the beautiful cows from their human tormentor. The bull’s hooves hit the snares, which tightened around his legs, flipped him upside down and yanked him into the air. He thrashed and bellowed in outrage, but he couldn’t escape.
Theseus made sure the bull was securely tied up. Then he lowered the animal into a wagon, found a couple of horses and carted the beast back towards the city.
He stopped by Hecale’s hut like he’d promised, but the old lady had passed away during the night. Maybe it was a case of bad soup. Or maybe she’d lived just long enough to do her final task for Lord Zeus.
‘Thanks, old lady,’ Theseus said. ‘I won’t forget you. I’ll take the bull to Athens and sacrifice it myself at the temple of Zeus.’
Before he left, Theseus buried Hecale. In her honour, he built a domed monument that stood in that spot for centuries, out in the middle of nowhere, as a reminder that good advice can come from strange places.
When Theseus returned to Athens, he made quite an entrance. The white bull weighed about five hundred pounds, but Theseus slung it over his shoulders and carried it through the city, attracting a crowd as he climbed the steps of the Acropolis to the temple of Zeus. He drew his sword and sacrificed the bull while people cheered and threw flowers.
The priest sent word to the palace: a young stranger had killed the Marathonian Bull. An hour later, a royal messenger brought Theseus an invitation to dinner.
Theseus was psyched! At long last, he would get to meet his father. He decided he’d wait until the middle of dinner and spring the news. By the way, I’m your son! Then, after he killed all his father’s enemies, maybe they could catch a ball game together or something.
A hitch in the plan: the sorceress Medea had already figured out Theseus’s identity. She had magic. She had spies. She’d learned about Theseus’s exploits along the road to Athens, and she knew he was the son of Aegeus.
She couldn’t allow Theseus to derail her scheme. She wanted a child of hers on the throne of Athens. So, before the congratulatory dinner, she approached old King Aegeus.
‘Oh, Honey Bunny?’ (Her pet name for him proves how evil she was.) ‘I’m worried about this young hero who’s coming to dinner. I think he’s an assassin from the Pallantides.’
Aegeus frowned. He wasn’t as sharp as he used to be, but he hated assassins. ‘Well … what do you suggest?’
‘Poison,’ Medea said. ‘When we toast the hero, we’ll give him a cup of tainted wine.’
‘Doesn’t sound very hospitable. Isn’t he our guest?’
‘Dearest, you don’t want to be killed before you and I can have a son together, do you?’
Aegeus sighed. Medea had been promising him a son for years. It never seemed to happen. Long ago, the king had met a truly fine woman, Aethra. He’d thought for sure her son would eventually show up from down in Troezen, but alas, he had never appeared. Now the king was stuck with a sorceress wife, a pack of enemies waiting for him to die and apparently an assassin who pretended to be a hero.
‘Very well,’ Aegeus said. ‘Have the poison ready at dinner.’
When Theseus arrived, he was shocked at how old and feeble his father looked. He was less surprised by Medea, who glared daggers at him as they ate appetizers and chatted about the weather and the best ways to capture giant bulls.
The main course was roast beef, with a big goblet of wine to wash it down.
Theseus noted that the queen tensed up when the wine was set before him. He was really thirsty after so much small talk, but he decided to hold off on drinking.
‘Roast beef looks great!’ he said. ‘But I should probably cut it into bite-size pieces. I’ll use my sword, if you don’t mind …’
Drawing a sword at dinner is usually bad etiquette, but Theseus went ahead and unbuckled the weapon and set it on the table. He unsheathed the blade and cut his meat.
The king’s mind was hazy, but he recognized his own royal symbol and initials on the hilt. That sword … that was his sword. What had he done with it? Oh, right, he’d
This strong and handsome young man had his sword, which meant …
As Theseus reached for his wine goblet, the king shrieked and knocked it out of his hands. The poison spilled, hissing and steaming across the marble floor.
‘My son!’ Aegeus cried.
‘Dad!’ said Theseus.
‘Medea!’ the king snarled.
‘Honey Bunny?’ Medea leaped out of her chair and backed away from the dinner table.
‘You knew who he was,’ Aegeus said. ‘You wanted me to poison my own son. You evil, twisted –’
‘Now, dear, let’s talk about this.’
‘Guards, arrest her!’
Medea ran from the room with a dozen guards chasing after her. Somehow she managed to escape and flee the kingdom. Medea had had a lot of practice at fleeing kingdoms. But at least she was out of Aegeus’s life.
The king tearfully embraced his son. They talked into the night. Theseus got the best guest room in the palace and slept in a bed even more comfortable than the Crusty XL. In the morning, father and son decided to visit the temples to give thanks for Theseus’s arrival. Finally, the king had an heir!
Word quickly spread. The king would be venturing outside the palace for the first time in years. The fifty Pallantides realized they’d better act while they had the chance.
They got all their gangs together and split into two armies. Their plan was to wait until the king and Theseus and their guards were halfway to the temples. Then the two Pallantide armies would attack from either end, trapping the king in a pincer manoeuvre and destroying his whole party.
It was a good plan. I’m not sure even Theseus could’ve handled that many enemies at once.
Fortunately, the Pallantides had one servant, named Leos, who was still secretly loyal to the king. Leos ran to the palace at dawn and warned Aegeus and Theseus about what was up. Leos explained exactly where the armies would be lying in wait for the ambush.
Theseus got some armour from the royal supply room. He strapped on his sword, picked up his club and strode out of the palace. He found the first army of Pallantides sitting around in a dark alley eating pancakes, waiting for the royal procession to go by.
‘Hi!’ Theseus said cheerfully. Then he killed them all.
He didn’t feel any remorse. They’d been planning to slaughter the entire royal party, so Theseus figured they got what they deserved. It was simple philosophy.
He strode through town, his lovely shoes now splattered in blood and syrup, until he found the second army of Pallantides in line at Starbucks, getting really impatient for their pumpkin spice lattes.
‘Hi!’ Theseus made the line a lot shorter by killing the entire army. Then he got a double cappuccino with extra foam and returned to the palace.
After that, the king had no trouble leading his procession to the temples.
He gave thanks to the gods for his new and extremely violent son. Everybody in Athens had a really good day, free from Pallantides gangs for the first time in decades.
Fun side note: that dude Leos who betrayed the sons of Pallas? Supposedly the folks in their hometown, Pallene, still can’t stand to hear the word Leo. They never name their kids that, and if you are born under the zodiac sign Leo it’s considered bad luck. I’ve got a friend named Leo. He’d love that story. He’d probably go to Pallene and introduce himself fifty times a day just to see how people would react.
Anyway, Theseus had made some pretty good progress on his checklist. He’d killed the Marathonian Bull. He’d chased off the evil sorceress queen. He had slaughtered all his dad’s enemies in a single morning.
There was just one little dark cloud still looming on the horizon … and it looked a lot like a Minotaur.
A month after Theseus settled in as prince of Athens, the big seven-year Cretan lottery rolled around. Every young man and woman was required to register for a chance to win a free trip to Knossos, be wined and dined at the court of Minos and then be thrown into the Labyrinth for a photo op with the Minotaur, followed by painful death.
The people in Athens protested in the streets. Hey, I can’t blame them. Their king was celebrating the arrival of his son, and everyone else was being asked to offer up their own children as tributes.
Theseus decided that wasn’t right.
‘Dad,’ he said, ‘I’m going to volunteer as a tribute.’
‘What?’ Aegeus tried to rise from his throne, but his legs were too shaky. ‘Son, no! I just got you! I don’t want to lose you!’
‘Don’t worry! The deal with Crete says that the tribute system stops forever as soon as one of us kills the Minotaur, right?’
‘Yes, but –’
‘So I’ll kill the Minotaur. Easy!’
Aegeus wasn’t sure it would be so easy, but Theseus was determined. It was the right thing to do. Also, Theseus hadn’t killed any monsters or destroyed any armies in weeks, and he was super bored.
When the people heard that the prince had volunteered, they were amazed. They’d got cynical about politicians and their empty promises. Now this young guy was stepping up, risking his life along with the common folk. His popularity rating went up like seventy-five percent.
When the other tributes’ names were chosen in the lottery, they didn’t complain. They all rallied behind Theseus, who promised to lead them to Crete and bring them safely home again.
The night before the tributes set sail, King Aegeus had one last dinner with his son.
‘Please, Theseus,’ said the old king, ‘do me one favour: usually, when the ship comes back from Crete, it has black sails because all the tributes have died. If you do manage to sail home, ask the captain to use a different colour sail. That way, as soon as I see the ship on the horizon, I’ll know you are okay. When you dock we can have a big party in your honour.’
Theseus embraced his dad. ‘Sure thing. What colour do you want?’
‘Fuchsia,’ the king suggested. ‘With turquoise trim.’
‘Um, how about white sails?’ Theseus said. ‘Those are easier.’
The king agreed, though white seemed a bit conventional.
The fourteen Athenian tributes gathered aboard their ship and sailed for Crete while their parents stayed behind on the docks, waving and trying not to cry. During the voyage, Theseus tried to keep the tributes’ spirits up with bingo and shuffleboard, but everyone was nervous. They knew they wouldn’t be allowed any weapons in the Labyrinth. No one had ever survived the experience. That made it hard to enjoy trivia night on the lido deck.
After three days at sea, they docked at Knossos. The capital’s golden spires, marble temples, gardens and palaces made Athens look like a dump.
The tributes were met by jeering crowds waving bull flags and big foam hands that read CRETE IS NO. 1! Except for Theseus, the fourteen teenagers had never been away from home before. They felt scared and overwhelmed, which was just the way Minos liked it.
Labyrinth Day was a huge PR win for him. It gave the people of Crete something to celebrate. They got to see the best and brightest of Athens’s youth cringing in fear and totally humiliated before they were thrown to their death in the Minotaur’s maze.
Theseus kind of ruined the effect. He smiled and waved and greeted the crowd as the tributes made their way to the palace. ‘How ya doing? I’m Theseus. Hey, great to be here! Gonna kill your Minotaur. Okay, call me, babe. Lookin’ good!’
The Athenians were brought to King Minos’s palace for the customary welcome dinner and get-to-know-you-before-you-die festivities.
King Minos was looking forward to some good old-fashioned grovelling from his guests. He loved grovelling. Again Theseus took the fun out of the dinner by daring to have fun. He laughed, told jokes and entertained the Cretan royal family with stories about his exploits on the road from Troezen. The story about Molly the giant turtle went over especially well. Theseus made a little Sciron doll out of bread sticks and tossed it across
Minos’s children laughed. Princess Ariadne happened to be sitting across from Theseus. She was fascinated by the handsome, funny, completely fearless Athenian prince. By the end of dinner, she was hopelessly in love with him. She couldn’t bear the thought of him dying in the Labyrinth. Her dad was so annoying – maiming and torturing his subjects, throwing her mutant brother the Minotaur into that maze, always putting hot guys to death before she got to know them. Ugh!
King Minos, on the other hand, did not instantly fall in love with Theseus.
He decided the young hero needed to die even before the Labyrinth challenge. That would put the other tributes in the proper terrified mood. Otherwise Minos wouldn’t get the full effect of their screaming when they were thrown into the Labyrinth. He loved the screams of Athenian youth. They soothed his fragile nerves.
‘So, Theseus!’ the king called across the table. ‘I hear you are a son of Poseidon?’
‘Yes, my lord!’ Theseus said. ‘I am blessed with two mighty fathers – one the king of Athens, the other the god of the sea.’
‘How exciting,’ Minos said. ‘The second most powerful king in Greece and the second most powerful god. As you know, I am the king of the most powerful nation, and my father is Zeus.’
Minos was a twerp like that.
The king rose. He pulled off his royal signet ring – a band of gold set with a bull’s head carved in sapphire. ‘Shall we test your parentage, Theseus?’
Minos walked to the window. The dining room happened to be on the twentieth floor of the tallest tower, looking out over the depths of the sea. ‘How about I throw this ring into the ocean and you dive for it? Then we’ll know you are the son of Poseidon. After all your other exploits, I’m sure that’s no challenge for you.’
The ring cost about a million drachmas, but what did Minos care? He had a dozen more just like it in his nightstand drawer. He guessed the newcomer would tremble in fear or make some lame excuse for why he couldn’t jump out of a twentieth-storey window. But if he really did jump that would be funny.
Minos tossed the ring out of the window.
As usual, Theseus did the impulsive thing. Shiny object moving quickly? Chase it!