When the three of them reentered the house, the hawk blinked. A brisk wind ruffled his golden feathers and he cocked his head, unconsciously listening as he had a million times before.
Was she out there? Somewhere? Only the gods knew.
Defeated, lonely, the hawk shook off bittersweet emotions and, with a wild cry, spread his wings, taking flight over the broad Texas sky.
ASTERION
by Katalina Leon
The familiar Greek myth of the Minotaur shares its ancestry with a far older tradition that stretches back to cave art from Crete’s Neolithic period. Once upon a time, in the earliest years of the Bronze Age, mighty Minoa, the greatest trading power in the Aegean, worshipped a divine star being who allegedly came to Earth to live among them.
“Asterion” literally means “star”, and is strongly associated with Bronze Age Minoan kings, who, in order to rule, were said to take the form of the Cretan bull of the sun.
The exact beliefs of Bronze Age Minoans can only be guessed, but archeologists have discovered bronze coins stamped with Asterion’s image. The coins often depict a kneeling bull-king along with a star-shaped flower and possibly the constellation Taurus. It is speculated the coins are attempting to show Asterion’s divine place on both Earth and amongst the stars.
Old stories are like coins—they always have two sides.
Chapter One
The deep Aegean, which had been a brilliant blue early in the morning, was now a dark, glassy mirror. A heavy layer of fog obscured the sun. The morning’s brisk wind had stilled and the square sail on the tiny fishing skiff hung slack from the mast.
Larisa huddled at the front of the small craft, glaring hatefully at her captor as he laboriously rowed the skiff into the dense fog. It was just she and Catullus, alone on the sea.
Wily old Catullus was the village’s newly self-elected chief. He was stout, soft-limbed and the journey was taking an obvious toll on his stamina. But Larisa couldn’t help him row even if she were so inclined. He’d bound her wrists tightly and tethered her to the boat to prevent her from leaping overboard and drowning herself.
Catullus sweated profusely as he rowed, and she wondered how long he could endure the exhausting task. He closed his eyes and groaned in heaving agony as the paddles seemed to cling to the surface of the water.
Larisa took advantage of his distraction and leaned slightly to dangle her bound wrists in the soothing water. Her long brown ringlets fell around her face like a veil. As she leaned farther, her slight movement caused the boat to dip.
Catullus’ eyes flew open in alarm. “What are you doing?” He leaned forward and yanked Larisa upright. “No tricks. I have my eyes on you. I’ll not be cheated of my tribute to King Minos.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Do you really believe that showing up uninvited on the palace steps—with an unsolicited sacrifice to the Minotaur—is going to make you a great favorite with King Minos? I think it makes you look desperate.”
Disdain spread across Catullus’ face. “There is a higher purpose to my plan, which I don’t expect you to understand. I can be of service to King Minos. I’m tired of living in a dusty little village, separated from the powerful world I should be part of.”
“What would King Minos want with your services? You think only of yourself. You’re a traitor to your own village.”
“Warfare has reduced our village to women, children and frail old men.” Catullus huffed in disgust. “We can’t survive another surprise attack from the Aetolians. Given how brutally our neighbors have treated us of late, I’m strongly inclined to seek the favor and protection of King Minos. I’m certain he’ll welcome the added wealth from our realm—which I can now provide, thanks to the rich orchards and fields
“My generous gift of land and a feminine sacrifice for the Minotaur will no doubt earn me an honored residence within the Palace of Knossos. I’m looking forward to my new life, and I’m sure King Minos will be more appreciative of
“What refined qualities? You truly think mighty King Minos is in need of another scheming opportunist to slobber at his feet? If he is, he’ll be delighted to meet you.”
“How dare you! I am your elder and chief.” Catullus’ face flushed with rage. “You speak too freely and say too much—both are poor qualities in a woman.”
“You stole my land! It’s not yours to give. And don’t think I’m unaware you cheated at lots. I know I was deliberately given the shortest straw.” Larisa looked away before a tear streaked down her cheek. She’d already been tricked, robbed and sentenced to death. The last thing she wanted to do was give Catullus the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
The dense fog hovering above the surface of the sea was now so oppressive, the daytime sky appeared dusk. “You don’t even know where we’re going, do you? You’re just rowing into the fog. How do you even know the tiny island we glimpsed on the horizon this morning was King Minos’ island? My father said Minoa was a two-day journey from our shore and that there were countless islands in the Aegean.”
“Don’t speak of your father!” Catullus snapped.
“Why? Could it be you dread to hear the truth? That my father, Chief of Kreios, was a braver man and better leader to our tribe than you’ll ever be?” Larisa stealthily slid her foot across the floorboards of the boat, hoping to catch her toe on an amphora of water and steal a sip before Catullus snatched it away, as he’d done all day. She licked her parched lips in frustration as she tried several times to reach the clay jar but failed.
Catullus protectively slid the amphora beyond Larisa’s reach. “What little water we have is for me. I’m doing all the hard work.”
“Wouldn’t it have been easier to pay those fishermen we met this morning to row us to the correct island, instead of stealing their boat?”
“Why pay when I can do it myself?” Perspiration trickled down Catullus’ round face. “Besides, I couldn’t allow you to tell your sad story to the fishermen and attempt to recruit their help. As you can see, I’ve thought of everything. It’s true that I am unaccustomed to the sea, but it is the slight price I pay for being a warrior of the mountains.”
“You’re no warrior!” Larisa scoffed. “Your own son foolishly blurted out that you turned and fled from battle, while the real warriors of our tribe stayed to fight and lost their lives. Ares said you hid inside a hollow log while the battle raged past. It was your
