All-Mother should not kill, but love.”
He saw color, then, in the whiteness of her face. The red splendor of her head made a little angry toss. Slowly, with a splendid strength, she drew the bow, pulled the arrow to her cheek. And her clear voice pealed:
“Even Cybele can slay!”
Something, even in that breathless moment, drew the eyes of Theseus from her tall beauty and her peril.Something made him look high above the curtained boxes. There, in the topmost tier of seats, he glimpsed the face of Snish.
The seamed ugly features of the little Babylonian were stiff and pallid. And his hands came up, with an odd swift gesture, as if to fend the arrow from himself. Could—or would—the little wizard help?
The glance of Theseus fled back to Ariadne. The sungleamed on the silverscales of the serpent-girdle, and he thought the bright coils tightened around her. The dove fluttered white wings. And the bow twanged.
Theseus had dodged arrows. He tried to drop flat, at the sound of the string, in hope that the shaft might pass above him. But he couldn’t move!
His weary body was held rigid, above that sand-laid outline of the double ax, as if he had been bound to an invisiblepost. Now he had met the gods—and their wizardry!
But it was an angry defiance that sprang into him, and not a fear. His head set grimly, and his open eyes looked straight to meet the hissing shaft. The warlocks might chain his body, but his mind still fought!
The arrow whispered by his ear!
Free of the invisible bonds, Theseus swayed. A trembling looseness came into his knees, and he wantedto sit down on the burning sand. He shaded his eyes, stared up at the boxes, where an uneasy murmuring ran.
He was incredulous. He could have sworn that the arrow was drawn straight at his right eye. Her practiced stance had told him that Ariadne was a well-skilled archer. Nor could he suspect that, for any possible reason, she had deliberately spared him.
For all color had left her lovely faceagain. The splendor of her head was high with anger. The green light of her eyes turned dark, dangerous. She turned swiftly to her red-robed priestess, reaching for another arrow.
The soft woman’s voice of Minos stopped her.
“Stay, daughter! The Dark One guided your arrow, and it missed. The Northman has mounted the seventh step toward my throne.” The small eyes danced genially. “Let him trythe eighth.”
The dimples deepened as Minos smiled; his fat pink hands made a little gesture to the herald and the priests. Thoroughly puzzled—and still with a deep, invincible apprehension of this stout merry man and his power—Theseus looked up across the silent throng again, and found the wrinkled, wide-mouthed face of Snish.
The yellow popeyes of the little wizard were staring at him. Andone of them deliberately winked! Was it Snish, whose arts had deflected the arrow? With a sudden fear that his eyes would betray the Babylonian, Theseus looked swiftly away from him.
The horns keened again, and the herald shouted:
“Now let the Northman test the will of the Dark One through the great Minos, who is his son, and his regent over the earth.”
The unseen fetters, Theseus discovered,held his body again, so that he stood unable to move upon the black sign of the double ax. He stood in the blaze of sun, lightheaded, helpless, watching.
Minos stood up, and came out of the black-curtained box, to the platform where Ariadne had stood. For all his plumpness, he moved with a surprising ease and vigor; he almost bounced.
He slipped off the white robe, tossed it to a slave. Bareexcept for belt and loincloth, his hairless body looked pink and firm. His middle showed evidence of good living, but there was no hint anywhere of a thousand years’ decay. His rosy cheeks dimpled to a genial smile, and the small blue eyes twinkled down at Theseus. He might have been the priest of some small deity of wine and song, placing his blessing upon a night of carnival.
“So, Northman,you
He saw color, then, in the whiteness of her face. The red splendor of her head made a little angry toss. Slowly, with a splendid strength, she drew the bow, pulled the arrow to her cheek. And her clear voice pealed:
“Even Cybele can slay!”
Something, even in that breathless moment, drew the eyes of Theseus from her tall beauty and her peril.Something made him look high above the curtained boxes. There, in the topmost tier of seats, he glimpsed the face of Snish.
The seamed ugly features of the little Babylonian were stiff and pallid. And his hands came up, with an odd swift gesture, as if to fend the arrow from himself. Could—or would—the little wizard help?
The glance of Theseus fled back to Ariadne. The sungleamed on the silverscales of the serpent-girdle, and he thought the bright coils tightened around her. The dove fluttered white wings. And the bow twanged.
Theseus had dodged arrows. He tried to drop flat, at the sound of the string, in hope that the shaft might pass above him. But he couldn’t move!
His weary body was held rigid, above that sand-laid outline of the double ax, as if he had been bound to an invisiblepost. Now he had met the gods—and their wizardry!
But it was an angry defiance that sprang into him, and not a fear. His head set grimly, and his open eyes looked straight to meet the hissing shaft. The warlocks might chain his body, but his mind still fought!
The arrow whispered by his ear!
Free of the invisible bonds, Theseus swayed. A trembling looseness came into his knees, and he wantedto sit down on the burning sand. He shaded his eyes, stared up at the boxes, where an uneasy murmuring ran.
He was incredulous. He could have sworn that the arrow was drawn straight at his right eye. Her practiced stance had told him that Ariadne was a well-skilled archer. Nor could he suspect that, for any possible reason, she had deliberately spared him.
For all color had left her lovely faceagain. The splendor of her head was high with anger. The green light of her eyes turned dark, dangerous. She turned swiftly to her red-robed priestess, reaching for another arrow.
The soft woman’s voice of Minos stopped her.
“Stay, daughter! The Dark One guided your arrow, and it missed. The Northman has mounted the seventh step toward my throne.” The small eyes danced genially. “Let him trythe eighth.”
The dimples deepened as Minos smiled; his fat pink hands made a little gesture to the herald and the priests. Thoroughly puzzled—and still with a deep, invincible apprehension of this stout merry man and his power—Theseus looked up across the silent throng again, and found the wrinkled, wide-mouthed face of Snish.
The yellow popeyes of the little wizard were staring at him. Andone of them deliberately winked! Was it Snish, whose arts had deflected the arrow? With a sudden fear that his eyes would betray the Babylonian, Theseus looked swiftly away from him.
The horns keened again, and the herald shouted:
“Now let the Northman test the will of the Dark One through the great Minos, who is his son, and his regent over the earth.”
The unseen fetters, Theseus discovered,held his body again, so that he stood unable to move upon the black sign of the double ax. He stood in the blaze of sun, lightheaded, helpless, watching.
Minos stood up, and came out of the black-curtained box, to the platform where Ariadne had stood. For all his plumpness, he moved with a surprising ease and vigor; he almost bounced.
He slipped off the white robe, tossed it to a slave. Bareexcept for belt and loincloth, his hairless body looked pink and firm. His middle showed evidence of good living, but there was no hint anywhere of a thousand years’ decay. His rosy cheeks dimpled to a genial smile, and the small blue eyes twinkled down at Theseus. He might have been the priest of some small deity of wine and song, placing his blessing upon a night of carnival.
“So, Northman,you
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