Asterion gestured toward his companions. "Each year, he demands youths and maidens from the king of Naxos. The girl you spoke of is no doubt with our women, penned up as we are. You will surely see her again: tomorrow, at the bull dance. I am sorry."
"I don't understand any of this," replied Lucian. "How could we have known? Everyone seemed friendly. They were throwing flowers at us."
"Of course," said Asterion, "they were overjoyed to see you. On the voyage from our island, two of our company sickened and died; two others, in despair, threw themselves overboard. Thus, the full tribute is lacking. When that happens, Bolynthos is too impatient to await replacements from Naxos. He chooses victims from his own people. Small wonder you were so happily welcomed. Your unlucky arrival spared some Taurians their lives. As long as he has victims enough to satisfy him, Bolynthos cares not where they come from. You are here, you will serve the purpose."
"I've seen goats dance." Catch-a-Tick, all ears, came to join his elders. "But-bulls? They're so stupid and heavy-footed. Dance? What a sight!"
"And one you shall see for yourself," Asterion said. "Those who live through it are, by rule, set free. But no victim has ever survived to claim that right. Yes, it is a dance-a dance of death."
"The king of Tauros is a beast," said Lucian, "and his people no better, if they take pleasure in bloodshed."
"The people are sick of it," Asterion replied. "They come to watch because they fear to do otherwise. Those who show no stomach for the sport could find themselves ordered into the arena. But unless all rise as one against Bolynthos, the killing will go on."
"What about the king of Naxos?" said Lucian. "If he knows what happens to his people, why does he keep sending them?"
"He has little choice," Asterion said. "The yearly tribute began when Bolynthos came to the throne. At that time, he sent an ambassador to us, to discuss trade, treaties, and such affairs of state. There was a quarrel, tempers rose; a rash, ill-considered blow, and the ambassador was slain. This was a blood crime of gravest consequence. The person of an ambassador is sacred, inviolate. As was his right, Bolynthos demanded retribution: not in goods or money, but in lives. He required a group of young men and maidens to be sent him as sacrifice. We could not refuse.
"And so it was done. This should have washed clean our blood guilt, yet Bolynthos remained unsatisfied. Each year, he demanded yet another tribute, and another. He took pleasure in their death. When we protested, he warned that he had ships and warriors enough to invade Naxos and bum it to the ground.
"The king bowed to his will, reckoning the sacrifice of a few would safeguard the lives of many. Every year, victims were chosen by casting lots. But now, in this first season of my manhood, I resolved to end this slaughter. I joined the group ready to set sail, despite my father's pleading. As his son, I was exempt-"
"Wait a moment," said Lucian. "You didn't have to take your chances when the lots were cast?"
"Did I not make it clear? My father is the king. I am Asterion, prince of Naxos." Ops, listening closely and silently during this, now spoke up. "You chose nobly, Lord Prince," he said, "but if your goal was to save your people and end the tribute, allow me to ask-with all respect-how have you gone about doing it? What plan have you shaped?"
"None," replied Asterion, "because none is possible. When I sailed from Naxos, I had a dozen schemes in mind. Now that I have seen for myself, my plans turned out to be useless fantasies."
Ops frowned. "Lord Prince, you are a leader of your people, are you not? Would you have me believe you've done nothing? Let me point out-again, with all respect that if nothing is possible, you have nothing to lose. Even the most desperate action is better than none at all."
Ops had spoken in a tone Lucian had never heard before. Looking at the scapegoat now, he realized that Ops had changed since Mount Panthea. His voice was calm but firm, his bearing showed an authority Lucian had not suspected. He suddenly remembered that Ops himself had been a chieftain.
"I said you had done nothing," Ops went on. "I was wrong. You have done something. You have waited to be killed."
Asterion's chin went up. His voice was low and cold. "How dare you rebuke me? As I cannot save my people, the best I can do is die with them. Who are you to tell me otherwise? You know nothing of what happens here. You speak from ignorance."
Asterion took a pace closer to Ops and thrust his face at him. "When you have seen what we have seen, then will you have the right to reproach me. Escape? None, save into the bullring. Beyond this chamber, we would be lost in the passageways. Bolynthos had them built for that purpose. The maze is a better warden than any guard. I know this. Do not take me for a fool, let alone a weakling. I and some of my companions burst out once when the guards came to feed us.
"They made no attempt to stop us. They watched, and laughed; and after we had wandered blindly, they fetched us back at their leisure. In the bullring, there is no way to flee. Only the dead leave it. Each morning, they herd us there and we wait our time to face the bulls.
"On our first day," Asterion went on, his voice faltering an instant, "Bolynthos ordered out three of our maidens, one of them little more than a child. They were nimble. Yes, and clever, too. They did not cling to one another, cowering in fright, but ran in different directions to confuse and distract the bull. They were very brave. I was proud of them, and even thought they might live out the day. But their efforts only exhausted them. They tired long before the bull did. One lost her footing, stumbled, and fell. The creature was upon her within the blink of an eye.
"The other two-it was only a matter of time." Asterion strained to keep his voice under control, but his eyes darted back and forth. "Afterward, the attendants spread fresh sand where it was needed, and raked it smooth. They like to keep the arena tidy.
"And thus it has gone, day after day, always much the same. Now," said Asterion between his teeth, "perhaps you will be kind enough to instruct me in my proper duties, and point out to me what I should do. I will be most interested in your suggestions."
"Indeed, I spoke from ignorance," murmured Ops. "I well understand your fear-"
Asterion gave a bitter laugh. "Fear? We have gone past the limits of fear. Here, we eat and drink it, and finally grow bored with it. I no longer pray for courage. I pray for madness. Sanity becomes too heavy a burden."
"You are still their prince," Ops replied. "It is a burden you must carry."
"I shall gladly lay it down." Asterion turned away and strode to a corner of the chamber.
"Don't you worry, Asterion," called Catch-a-Tick, swaggering up and down and pointing to Lucian. "Here's the greatest hero in Arkadia. Lucian Aiee-Ouch, mighty warnor, lord of wolves and everything else you'd care to mention. Yes, and I also happen to be the son of a king. I'm Goat Prince Catch-a-Tick, friend of the hero. Everything will be fine. We have a plan-"
"Be quiet," Lucian ordered.
"I forgot. Sorry," said Catch-a-Tick. "You wanted to keep it mum." He closed his mouth tightly and trotted over to Ops, who had gone to Asterion's side.
Lucian went to the grating and stared out at the empty arena. He could not clear his head of Asterion's words. He seemed to hear endlessly echoing screams, to smell fresh blood and the animal reek from the bull pens. He could not guess where Joy-in-the-Dance had been locked up. For all he knew, her cell could be far across the stretch of sand or next to his own. He called out, but no answer came.
He stood some while as the shadow that covered half the arena crept to the farthest tiers of benches and all lay in darkness. He sank down, at last, and put his head in his hands. Catch-a-Tick came and sat beside him, yawning.
"Now you can tell me, just between us," the boy whispered. "You've got it all thought out, haven't you?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"The plan! It's working, isn't it? You got us into the same cell as those N axians. That was the cleverest yet. Asterion I hope I didn't make him feel second-rate." Catch-a-Tick yawned still more wi
dely and leaned heavily against the wall. "He's not much of a prince. And he's no kind of hero at all."
"Neither am I," Lucian said firmly. "I want you to stop this nonsense. Half of what I told you I made up, and you made up the other half. There weren't any meat cleavers. I never led any wolves. Most of the time, I was afraid they'd bite me. Warrior? I got smacked on the head with the flat of a sword. That's all. Nothing but stories and stories and stories. I don't have a plan. I never did. I just want to crawl in a hole somewhere and hide. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"
The boy said nothing. Lucian raised his head and glanced at him. A happy smile on his face, Catch-a-Tick was fast asleep.
21 - The Bull Dance
It was a busy morning. Asterion and his companions had been up early, belting tunics, lacing sandals, rubbing arms and legs with oil, as if getting ready for a day of sport. When Lucian asked why they bothered with such careful preparations, Asterion shrugged and said that it gave them something to occupy their minds.
Lucian, in his own way, had been doing much the same, turning his thoughts to Joy-in-the-Dance, Fronto, and Oudeis. He was sure that Oudeis had already learned of their plight. If the ship master was as clever as he claimed to be, he would have understood that he could do nothing to help. His only practical choice would be to set sail as quickly as possible. Fronto, at least, would be on his way to Callista.
He still had no idea where Joy-in-the-Dance was being held. Asterion pointed toward a line of shoulder-high wooden barriers on the far side of the arena. Like the men, the women would be taken behind them to wait until ordered into the ring.
"For you and your friends," Asterion added, "there is little advice I can give. Never tum your back on the bull. Stay as far from the beast as you can. Apart from that, it becomes a highly personal matter between you and the bull."
Soon afterward, guards came to lead the victims through a tunnel that opened onto the arena. There was some joking back and forth, and some easy conversation. The guards, good-natured fellows, were trying to keep the business from turning too grim.
Lucian spoke closely with Ops. "Asterion says to keep our distance from the bull. He should know, but I can't help wondering if that's best. I had an idea-"
"I knew it!" cried Catch-a-Tick. "You're working on your plan. Tell me what I do."
"What you do is stay away from us. I don't want you anywhere close to Ops and me."
"I don't think much of that," said Catch-a-Tick.
"Never mind. Just do as I say," Lucian ordered and finished his talk with Ops out of the boy's hearing. The tunnel ended abruptly at the edge of the arena.
The sudden burst of light, the yellow sand under the glaring sun dazzled him. He shaded his eyes to look across the amphitheater. He thought he saw a hand waving and raised his own in answer. Most of the benches were filled, spectators still picked their way to the upper tiers. On a stone platform at the edge of the ring, Bolynthos sat under a fringed canopy. In full regalia, jewels glittering, he cradled a long-handled, double-headed ax and a scepter topped by golden horns. His eyes were bulging and rolling, his face flushed. He motioned with his head. Trumpets blared, someone began shouting an announcement Lucian could not understand.
"You Arkadians lead off," Asterion explained. "Step out boldly. If you try to hold back, it will only go worse for you. Lucian Aiee-Ouch, whoever you are, I wish you well. I trust you are the hero your young friend believes you to be."
The prince of Naxos turned to Ops. "You were right to rebuke me. For that, I thank you. I had almost forgotten I was a prince. When my tum comes, I hope I shall behave like one. Farewell."
Before Lucian could stop him, Catch-a-Tick darted through the gap between the barriers and trotted to the middle of the arena, where he put his hands on his hips and grinned around impudently. No cheers or shouts came from the spectators, only a long, sighing murmur; then, silence as the gates at the far end flung open. Bolynthos leaned forward. The bull had come into the arena.
The creature no doubt had been deliberately goaded and tormented to liven him up, for he burst out of the gate at full speed, bellowing, tossing his horns, galloping around the ring. He was very angry. He was very large.
Lucian stared, rooted to the spot. His plan had been simple and logical. As he explained it to Ops, instead of keeping their distance and wasting their strength avoiding the creature, they would go straight at the bull, each grip one of the horns and hang on to it. Thus, they needed only keep hold and do nothing more. The bull would have to tire before they did.
As he had thought about it in the cell, the idea seemed excellent. He wondered why it had never occurred to Asterion. Now that he was actually in the arena, he understood. He had never imagined the animal to be quite so huge and powerful. In fact, he had never seen a bull face-to-face. He had, he suspected, misjudged the reality of the situation. All things considered, taking to his heels seemed the more attractive course. But as in a nightmare, he could not force his legs to move.
The bull, meantime, had stopped galloping aimlessly and cast about for some object on which to vent his rage. Ops glanced at Lucian, motioned with his head, and began cautiously approaching the animal. Lucian finally extorted some grudging obedience from his legs, but they felt made of lead as he plodded over the sand. It was important, he realized, to grasp the horns before the creature charged.
The bull had a different plan in mind. Lucian had gone less than halfway when the creature drew into himself, gathering his force, then bolted forward, head lowered, faster than Lucian believed possible. Ops leaped to one side, Lucian to the other, as the bull slewed around to charge again.
Catch-a-Tick, so far, had obeyed Lucian's orders to stay away; but now, legs pumping, the boy shot across the ring straight for the bull. The animal paused a moment, as if considering what to do about this new arrival. Without breaking stride, whooping and crowing, Catch-a-Tick vaulted onto the creature's back. The bull did not like this. He bucked and reared, flinging the boy into the air. Catch-a-Tick landed with both feet on the massive shoulders. Turning his attention from Lucian and Ops, the bull strove to shake off what he must have judged to be some oversized and exasperating fly, heaving and twisting, bellowing at the top of his lungs. Each time Catch-a-Tick was tossed aloft, he nimbly regained his perch on the bull's back or hindquarters and, once, even managed to do a somersault in midair.
Seeing the bull preoccupied with Catch-a-Tick, who had begun a jaunty little dance up and down the creature's spine, Lucian and Ops darted ahead, each seizing one of the curved horns. Lucian feared his arms might tear loose from their sockets, but he clung with all his strength. Ops, little by little, was wrestling the shaggy head closer to the sand. From the tail of his eye, Lucian glimpsed a slender shape speeding from the woman’s barrier.
"Stop that!" cried Joy-in-the-Dance. "You're annoying the poor thing."
She stepped to the bull and laid a hand between the horns, murmuring something Lucian could not understand. The animal left off struggling and blinked at her. "Let go, Aiee-Ouch. You, too, Ops. Catch-a-Tick, come down from there."
The girl stroked the hairy ears, all the while whispering and half singing. This was not only the first time Lucian had seen a bull, it was also the first time he had seen one smile. The crowd was cheering and shouting. The bull trotted to the edge of the arena, folded his legs, and lay down. The crowd started a rhythmic chanting and clapping.
"They want us set free," Joy-in-the-Dance explained while Catch-a-Tick bowed and capered. "Bolynthos won't dare refuse. Oh-now they're saying that-"
She broke off. Ignoring the swelling tide of voices, the king had jumped to his feet. He gestured for a new bull to be sent in. The gate remained shut. The crowd roared all the louder. Bolynthos, cheeks twisting and twitching, sprang from the platform. Brandishing the double ax, he strode toward Joy-in-the-Dance.
The girl calmly pointed her outspread hands at him. "Here, look. Why are you holding that serpent? It's enormous! See, it's coi
ling around your arm. It's going to strike. Those fangs-look at them, they're deadly poison. Quick, quick, get rid of the horrible thing."
Bolynthos stopped in his tracks, gaping. He stared at the ax, struggled with the handle as if it were indeed coiling around him. With a shriek, he threw down the weapon.
"Run, you three," ordered Joy-in-the-Dance. "I can't hold his mind much longer."
"Bolynthos!"
Asterion had sprinted from behind the barrier, his companions at his heels. Bolynthos shook himself, as if suddenly waking. He thrust aside Joy-in-the-Dance and lurched to recover the ax. Asterion snatched it and sprang away. The king's hand went to the sword at his belt. Asterion swung the ax like a man felling a tree. Bolynthos grunted and dropped to one knee. Asterion struck again.
Lucian did not look back at what Asterion was doing. He could barely keep his heaving stomach where it belonged as he ran with Joy-in-the-Dance to the arcade circling the arena. Before they reached it, the gate of the bull pens opened. Lucian called a warning. Joy-in-the-Dance halted to face another onslaught.
Fronto trotted out. He stopped a moment, blinking in the sunlight. As the cheers rose louder, the poet bent a foreleg and bobbed his head in acknowledgment, then galloped to Lucian's side. Oudeis and a crowd of seafaring men pressed into the arena after him.
"That was a nice round of applause they gave me," said Fronto. "Who's the fellow with the ax?"
"Never mind that now," said Lucian while Oudeis and his comrades hustled them unchallenged past the bull pens and out of the amphitheater.
The streets lay empty; nearly all the townspeople were still at the arena. Lucian hurried to follow the ship master toward the waterfront.
"By luck, I ran into some of my old shipmates," Oudeis said. "I found out quick enough what was going on, and they were glad to give me a hand. They're not fond of Bolynthos. Nobody is. I'm sorry it took us so long. We couldn't risk getting lost in those passageways, so we had to wait and follow the crowd into the arena."