NationStates Jolt Archive


Book review: The King Must Die

Willamena
02-06-2005, 20:22
'The King Must Die' is the story, nay the myth, of Theseus and the Minotaur. I was given this book as a present from a friend, who well knew that I was into mythology, and thought I would enjoy it. I read the back, and the first few pages. The book is set in old Greece, told as a historical fiction. I like historical fiction, but I value myth. I thanked her, but I was sceptical; my misgivings centred around the thought that I would find little of value in a myth told as if it was historical fact. The value of a myth is in the meaning woven into its story elements; the labyrinth, the bull-headed man, the young king, and the spider-woman (Ariadne spinning her threads) --all were symbols that when taken into a literal setting could only degrade in meaning, losing the subtlety of trope. I did not expect to enjoy this book.

To put it simply, I was wrong. Soooo wrong. Wrong as wrong can be. This book has much of value for any reader, fan of mythology or no. The mythic elements are there, and in fact it elaborates on their religious context in ways that give a rich and satisfying picture of life in old Greece. It transcends time, as fiction often does, by bridging old, older and oldest as if they happened chronologically, but that didn't bother my enjoyment of the story any.

The story drops you straight into the religions of ancient Greece --Hellene, Elusian, and Cretan --in a setting that is historically realistic, and allows for wonderful contrast by taking Theseus on a journey from his home where horses reign, to Elusius, land of human sacrifice, to Athens to become his father's son, and to Crete to battle with Minotaur, embroiling him in the various religions along the way. It is told in the first person singular, as a young man goes from prince to inadvertent but willing and naive king, to being a prince again, and finally gaining kinghood with full understanding of its meaning (for the times).

I have quoted the climatic scene from the book, where Theseus battles the Minotaur and takes his throne. If what I have said so far peaks your interest, and you are not into spoilers, you may want to close the window now; for everyone else reading this, I think it will inspire a question or two that should properly be answered by reading the book. I chose this scene for its emotional satisfaction, and because it gives an excellent feel for what you can expect from the rest of the book. By the way, "the Cranes" mentioned are Theseus' team of bull-leapers.

I heard his heavy grunting in the hollow mask, as he came forward lifting the ax to strike. There was strength in those fleshy shoulders. Above in the Throne Room was a battle raging; there could be no help yet. He had worked round me, to head me off from the steps, and was driving me back against the further wall. Then, when there was nothing more to do, my body thought for me, as it does in the dance. I stood up against the wall, and when the ax came at me, dropped like a stone. As I struck the wall where I had been, I seized his leg and threw him.

He fell heavily, on the hard glazed floor of the earth court. I heard the muffled clang of the gold mask striking; and when I grappled with him and saw it askew, I knew he was fighting blind. He still had the ax; but now we were in-fighting, and he could not swing it. He shortened his grip and, as we rolled and twisted, beat me with it as one might with any stone. But I hampered his arm, so that it did me no great hurt. And I thought, "Labrys will never fight for him." She was old, and used to dignity; and once again she had fed upon a king. She would not like to be taken lightly.

And I was right. If he had let her go, and used both hands to wrestle, he would have had a chance; he was twice my weight, and had not laboured that day like me. But he was no wrestler, though Cretans are well taught; he could not give up the hope of cracking my head. So as he raised the ax blade, I had time to grab my dagger out of my belt, and drive it home with all the strength left in me. It had a long way to go, through his thick carcass; but it reached his life. He doubled up with a great grunting cry, clasping his midriff. I stood up from him, with the ax in my hand.

A cry went up from the people on the stairs; but more of awe than grief; and a deep hush followed it. Looking up, I saw the Cranes all safe, and the guards already fled away. Before me he lay writhing, scraping the noble mask of the Bull God on the floor. I drew it off, and held it up to the people.

Now I saw his face, grimacing with bared teeth. I stepped up to him, to hear what he would say to me. But he only stared at me as at some shape of chaos, seen in a dream where nothing makes sense. He who had thought to rule without the sacrifice, who had never felt the god's breath that lifts a man beyond himself, had nothing to take him kinglike to the dark house of Hades. And yet, mixed with the blood and swat that smeared his breast, I saw the oil that had made him slippery while we grappled. He had been anointed, when we broke in. So after all there was a rite still to do.

I lifted the mask of Minos, and put it on. Through the eyes of thick curved crystal, everything looked little, far and clear; I had to pause awhile, to get the feel of it and judge my distance. Then I swung Labrys back, and brought her down, my head and shoulders and body coming round with the blow. The force of it tingled through my hands; and the voice at my feet was silent.

From the Throne Room above I heard the cry of the Cranes; and from the porch the din of rout, as the news reached the defenders. But I stood still, seeing through the crystal a small bright image, such as a god may see who looks down from the sky, far down and back for a thousand years to men who lived and suffered in ancient days; and in my heart was a long silence.