Amongst the people of Crete, there was the sport of bull-leaping. To Art, such a person would have had to have a death wish to do such a thing. Wherefore did this island nation have such an obsession with bulls? Bull frescos, horns of consecration, bull-leaping, the Young Gael was beginning to wonder if Minos' wife Pasiphae had not been cursed and just had relations with the Cretan Bull of her own volition.
As he and Thebe sat and watched some bull-dancers go about their sport in the arena, Art uttered: "Timaeus says we must leave this place, but where are we to go? We could leave Achaea, go elsewhere, but where? The Minotaur might be a child basically, but he is still an unnatural creature with a taste for human flesh and most likely the strength of a bull. How long until he breaks his chains?"
"He may never break his chains, Art." Thebe commented, staring at the bull-dancers going about their sport with terrified eyes. "But it seems death has many forms here. I cannot imagine that bull-dancers are always successful."
"From what I have heard, some don't last more than a few months." Said Art, watching as one bull-dancer jumped out of the way of the charging brute, black with a white stomach. "I wonder how long these fellows have been at their sport."
"I am not sure, nor do I wish to join them."
"That is a wise decision, Thebe. The more I look around this place, the more I wonder if there is some god we don't know about and that all of this is secretly to provide him with sacrifices." As the bull found a victim, trampling a young woman beneath its great weight, Art held Thebe close. This was barbarism of the worst kind!