Claiming Ariadne by Laura Gill Page A

stones littered the ground—the sea had scooped them up as easily as pebbles, when they were the blocks of great buildings. We saw broken pithoi and cups and plates, bits of furniture, and bodies everywhere. We searched among the dead but found no one we recognized, they were so battered. We wanted to bury them, but the goatherds refused to stay and help us. Malia was an evil place now. They said the sea would come back. Better to go inland, they said, or go west to Knossos, so we gathered up anything of value we found, took what little food we had, and went west.”
    “Did you stay with Admaios?” asked Ariadne. For if Minos Rasuros was her great-grandfather as her mother claimed, something must have separated Iphame from her young lover.
    Iphame continued, “Yes, we traveled together. Knossos was damaged a little from the shaking. I’m sure others told you it was destroyed and had to be rebuilt, but that was later. When we arrived, it was already crowded with refugees from Katsambas and Amnissos, but somehow Admaios found us a place in the town below the palace. He went to work as a carpenter and I helped the women cook and clean for hundreds—no, thousands—and in the evenings we told our hosts stories from Kalliste.
    “Perhaps Admaios told the story of our escape too well, or perhaps it was something else that marked us out as ones to watch, but it wasn’t long before the king noticed me. I was a pretty girl. Not as beautiful as you, Ariadne, but pretty enough. Minos Rasuros was a lustful and greedy man. He kept many beautiful women in addition to his queen. Now he wanted a girl from the land Poseidon destroyed.
    “The wisest thing to do, of course, would have been to go to him and submit until he tired of me. We would have eaten better, and perhaps there would have been gifts. But when you’re young and in love with someone else, you become foolish. Admaios and I planned to marry once times were better, and we both objected when the summons came.
    “For a time, the king left us alone. Starvation and disease took many the sea did not. At Knossos, there would have been stores enough to last two years, had there not been so many extra mouths to feed. When spring came, it still felt like winter, and the ground still trembled. So the priests of Poseidon went to the king and said there must be a special sacrifice. Or perhaps he suggested it to them—I never learned which.”
    Ariadne sat frozen, not daring even to breathe. Her fingernails bit crescent moons into her palms as Iphame spoke again. “Even the Minos knew better than to suggest a name outright. But he must have dropped hints, or someone among the priests knew his mind and chose for him. One morning the priests came with armed men and took Admaios away, tore him right out of my arms as we lay in bed together. Then more armed men took me away.”
    Iphame offered a sad smile. “Later I heard the priests told the people that Admaios was special, that he had a gift—oh, he never should have mentioned the warning he had from Poseidon! He was young and handsome, they said, so he would please the god. I never learned exactly when or how he died, or where he was buried. I never saw him again.
    “By then, I was the king’s woman. That very first night he had me. He came and laid hands on me and made no effort to be kind. I thought I would die from misery—you see how everything is much worse when you’re young? I moved from the town into the palace, into rooms above the Western Court. The Minos kept his girls there, away from the queen. Thank the gods for that! Pasiphaë was such a sharp-tongued harpy! We had good food to eat, though not much of it, and pretty clothes to wear, and we were given only light work to do. And within a month, I was pregnant.”
    Which man was the father? It could have been either one, decided Ariadne, and even her great-grandmother might not be sure. “Was it…?”
    Iphame passed over the question. “Finally, the earthquake