The King Must Die: A Novel

AUTHOR’S NOTE

BY CLASSICAL TIMES THE Theseus legend (a brief outline is given below) had so fabulous a garnish that it has sometimes been dismissed as pure fairy tale, or, after Frazer, as religious myth. This briskness was not shared by those who had observed the remarkable durability of Greek tradition; and the rationalists had their first setback when Sir Arthur Evans uncovered the Palace of Knossos, with its labyrinthine complexity, eponymous sacred axes, numerous representations of youths and girls performing the bull-dance, and seal carvings of the bull-headed Minotaur. The most fantastic-seeming part of the tale having thus been linked to fact, it becomes tempting to guess where else a fairy-tale gloss may have disguised human actualities.

That the early heroes were men of gigantic stature was an axiom with the classical Greeks. Bones of a Bronze Age warrior, unearthed in Skyros by Cimon, were unhesitatingly hailed as Theseus’ on the strength of their size alone. But a youth accepted for the bull-dance can only have had the slight, wiry build which its daring acrobatics demanded, and which frescoes and figurines all portray. And indeed, the main elements of his story bear this out. Men who tower over their opponents have no cause to evolve a science of wrestling; and Theseus is conventionally shown in combat with hulking or monstrous enemies, living by his wits. The tradition that he emulated the feats of Herakles may well embalm some ancient sneer at the overcompensation of a small, assertive man. Napoleon comes to mind.

If one examines the legend in this light, a well-defined personality emerges. It is that of a light-weight; brave and aggressive, physically tough and quick; highly sexed and rather promiscuous; touchily proud, but with a feeling for the underdog; resembling Alexander in his precocious competence, gift of leadership, and romantic sense of destiny.

It would be in the levelling fashion of our day to conceive Theseus as a nameless adventurer who came to Athens by way of successful banditry in the Isthmus, and coerced the King of Athens into making him his heir. But, apart from this being a suicidal step for Aigeus to take unless a close blood-tie protected him, Theseus’ voluntary departure for Crete points to a man bred and trained for his role in the archetypal tragedy of Achaean kingship.

There is no doubt that the royal sacrifice was on occasion self-imposed, and was practiced down to recorded times. The semi-historic Kodros stage-managed his own death in combat with the Dorians, on hearing that the Pythia had predicted defeat for them if he fell. Leonidas of Sparta is said by Herodotos to have made his stand at Thermopylae, after dismissing his allies, in response to a similar oracle. Even as late as 403 B.C., the soothsayer of Thrasybulos’ liberating army, possibly by right of his priesthood the highest in formal rank, predicted them victory if they charged after a man had first fallen, and himself leaped forward upon the enemy spears.

It has not to my knowledge been suggested before that Theseus was endowed with the earthquake-aura, an instinct well attested among animals and birds. Even today, such a gift would be precious in any Greek town or village; to Bronze Age men it would surely have appeared divine. The Earth-Shaker’s favor and protection are stressed throughout the legend; and it is noteworthy that the death-curse which was his gift to Theseus was answered by a giant wave. The passion of Poseidon for Pelops (Theseus’ great-grandfather in the legend) suggests a hereditary trait. So seismic an area is the Peloponnese that the statues in the Olympia museum all stand surrounded by deep sandboxes, ready to break their fall.

From the Knossos finds it is clear that the Cretan bull-ring equalled that of Spain in popular esteem. It is not inconceivable that a leading torero, enjoying perhaps the combined prestige of a Manolete and a Nijinsky, might become a princess’s lover, and play some part in the downfall of the regime. Archaeologists agree that the Palace was burned, plundered, and wrecked by earthquake, though whether concurrently or consecutively is not known. The contemptuous nicknames given to the Cretan serfs are suggested by the Knossos Linear B inscriptions. A small living room was found close to the Throne Room, in which the King had apparently spent some time, perhaps for religious reasons. In the Throne Room itself, there were signs that a ceremonial anointing had been violently interrupted.

The legend contains many apparent improbabilities which, when examined, reside only in some nonessential detail. For example, Theseus cannot have brought his female impersonators from Athens in disguise, since bull-dancers were almost naked; but the ruse with the door is likely enough. And with the poisoned cup, it is only incredible that Aigeus should choose a public banquet to commit the grave crime of murdering a guest. Given Theseus’ meteoric career of conquest, nothing is more likely than the attempt itself. The episode must have been a favorite in the Greek theater, where the inevitable presence of the chorus may have influenced the tale. As for his concealment in Troizen, the theme of the heir hidden away till old enough to defend himself is world-wide, and current in the folk tales of Africans today. It is a commonplace of insecure societies; a stratagem so natural that even animals practice it. In considering any very old tale, it is as well to remember that primitive people have a strong sense of drama, and apply it to their lives. We shall mislead ourselves if we withhold belief from such events only because they seem highly colored by the standards of an Admass society.

There is no evidence for the word Hellene in Mycenaean times. I have used it because it conveys to many people a less localized concept than Achaean.