And now Prince Theseus was taken into great favor by his royal father.
The old king was never weary of having him sit beside him on his
throne, (which was quite wide enough for two,) and of hearing him tell
about his dear mother, and his childhood, and his many boyish efforts
to lift the ponderous stone. Theseus, however, was much too brave and
active a young man to be willing to spend all his time in relating
things which had already happened. His ambition was to perform other
and more heroic deeds, which should be better worth telling in prose
and verse. Nor had he been long in Athens before he caught and chained
a terrible mad bull, and made a public show of him, greatly to the
wonder and admiration of good King Ægeus and his subjects. But pretty
soon, he undertook an affair that made all his foregone adventures seem
like mere boy's play. The occasion of it was as follows:--
One morning, when Prince Theseus awoke, he fancied that he must have
had a very sorrowful dream, and that it was still running in his mind,
even now that his eyes were open. For it appeared as if the air was
full of a melancholy wail; and when he listened more attentively,
he could hear sobs, and groans, and screams of woe, mingled with
deep, quiet sighs, which came from the king's palace, and from the
streets, and from the temples, and from every habitation in the city.
And all these mournful noises, issuing out of thousands of separate
hearts, united themselves into one great sound of affliction, which
had startled Theseus from slumber. He put on his clothes as quickly
as he could, (not forgetting his sandals and gold-hilted sword,) and
hastening to the king, inquired what it all meant.
"Alas! my son," quoth King Ægeus, heaving a long sigh, "here is a
very lamentable matter in hand! This is the woefulest anniversary in
the whole year. It is the day when we annually draw lots to see which
of the youths and maidens of Athens shall go to be devoured by the
horrible Minotaur!"
"The Minotaur!" exclaimed Prince Theseus and like a brave young prince
as he was, he put his hand to the hilt of his sword. "What kind of a
monster may that be? Is it not possible, at the risk of one's life, to
slay him?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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