Dædalus, fearing that the name of his scholar might become more renowned than his own, grew so jealous that he killed the boy by hurling him down from the castle at Athens. While engaged in burying him, he was surprised by the authorities and pretended he was burying a snake. At last he was brought before the Areopagus, charged with murder, and was found guilty. He managed to escape, however, and at first wandered about in Attica, but finally fled to the island of Crete. There he met King Minos, became his friend, and was highly esteemed as a renowned artist. He was chosen to make a house for the Minotaur, a monster resembling a bull from its head to its shoulders, the remainder of its body being like a man, and to construct it so that the monster would be entirely removed from human sight. The inventive genius of Dædalus produced the Labyrinth, a structure full of complicated windings, confusing both to the eyes and feet of those who entered it. When it was finished and Dædalus began to look it over, the builder himself found his way back to the opening only with the greatest difficulty. The Minotaur was kept in the very centre of this Labyrinth, its food being seven youths and seven maidens sent to it periodically from Athens. In the meantime Dædalus began to weary of his long banishment from home. It vexed him that he must spend his life upon an island exposed to the caprices of a tyrannical and cruel king. After long consideration, he at last joyfully exclaimed: “I have found the way to escape. Minos may be master of land and water, but the sky is free to me. He has no power over that. Through the air I will escape.” No sooner said than done. He began by arranging bird feathers of different sizes in regular order. These feathers he fastened in the middle with waxed linen cords. He then bent the joined feathers in such perfect curves that they clearly resembled wings. Dædalus had a boy, named Icarus, who stood by him and eagerly meddled, childlike, with his father’s work. All of a sudden he took some of the feathers and deftly kneaded the wax, which his father had been using, with his thumb and forefinger. The father smiled at the unassisted exertions of the child. After his work was finished Dædalus fastened the wings to his body, balanced them equally, and sailed through the air as lightly as a bird. Then, descending to earth, he constructed a smaller pair for his son and instructed him how to use them. “Always fly, my dear son, in the middle course,” he said. “If you fly too low your wings may become so dampened by the sea air that they will grow heavy and you may fall into the waves, and if you mount too high and go too near the sunbeams your feathers may suddenly take fire. Fly between sea and sky and always follow in my course.” After these warnings Dædalus fastened his wings on Icarus’ shoulders, though the old man’s hands trembled as he did so, and anxious tears dropped upon them.