In bed with Thebe fast asleep by his side, Art stared up at the ceiling of his bedchamber. He could feel Niall at the foot of the bed, fast asleep as well. Try as he might, sleep was something that just wouldn't find him.
Staring at the ceiling, Art wondered if Daedalus could have informed Argus of him and Thebe being here on Crete. For what reason? If only Art could fathom it. Daedalus was a child-killer, was he trying to orchestrate another child-killing? Art hoped not and if that was indeed the case, then for what reason would Daedalus even want to do such a thing? He had never met the man before today and he had been perhaps less than kind to the Inventor.
His mind wandering, Art thought back to his childhood. He heard his grandfather say: "Don't go too far, lad, or some beast like a lion will get you."
He had never listened. He had been five, maybe six, he had gone off by himself and while he had found a lion, it did not get him as his grandfather had warned. The beast was already dead, it must have been dead for weeks, for bees had made a nest in the monster's carcass.
Monster? What was a monster? A lion was something natural, as natural as him, Thebe, Niall, Timaeus and many others, but was it truly a monster? To those it preyed upon a lion must have seen monstrous, but it was still something natural, not some abomination that defied nature…
Not like the Minotaur.
His mind wandered once more, this time to Knossos. The Minotaur, Asterion by appellation, was there. What if he were to break free? Yes, what if? Who would his first victims be? Where would he escape to? Would Argus be one of Asterion's victims? Where was Argus even staying? He must have been staying at Knossos!
Sitting up, Art looked down at Thebe, his slumbering wife and worried. Did Argus know that Minos had granted them this palace as their abode? Would Asterion come this way if he were to escape? Art wished he knew.
Staring at his slumbering, pregnant wife, the Young Gael worried. Could he protect Thebe and their unborn child?
Noticing Niall lift his head, Art smiled at his feline companion as the cat turned his head in his direction. "Go back to sleep, Niall." Art told the grimalkin. "Everything is alright."
Niall merely stared at the Young Gael, not entirely convinced everything was alright. Eventually, the lynx did lower his head and go back to sleep.
Once more, Art's mind wandered. Could he protect his wife and unborn child? He hoped so, he prayed he could. Hope, pray, what else could he do? Did Argus even know where on Crete he and Thebe were? Maybe once Thebe had given birth and their child was fit for travel, the three of them with Niall and Timaeus could all just leave for elsewhere.
But where? Kemet? Perhaps. Ahmose had expelled the Gaels from Kemet, but the first Ramesses had lifted that expulsion, Art and his people could return if they saw fit. A second Ramesses now ruled Kemet, grandson of the First, a great man, a soldier who had valiantly fought against the Hittites at Kadesh, a great builder, a great peace maker… Truly, there was no greater ruler that Kemet could have had…
But then, wherefore did Achaea not have such a ruler? Achaea was a collection of city states, petty kingdoms, only in Argolis did they have a high king to lead them all, but throughout the rest of Achaea they were the bitter rivals of the next, or so Art had been told by his grandfather.
And yet, where was all the conflict? Perhaps with all the monsters like the Hydra and its ilk, it was just agreed by all the Achaean kings that there was enough trouble. No doubt that was conflict between city states, but Art imagined with such monsters around the kings were not interested in adding to what those horrors did.
Could that have been the case? How could Art know? He did not know the minds of kings and some of them were not entirely mortal. Here on Crete, a scion of Zeus ruled, back in Argolis it was a great-grandson of the deity that ruled over all the kings in the land.
A great-grandson… Art wondered how many generations had to pass until descent from a god was meaningless. If Heracles had simply been the son of Amphitryon and Alcmene instead of the son of Zeus and Alcmene and the stepson of Amphitryon, then Heracles would not have been a demigod, he simply would have been a twice great-grandson of Zeus twice over. Would he have had his great strength? Perhaps through some great training. Would he have been Heracles? No, he probably would have remained Alcaeus.
Would he have succeeded in his labours if he was simply a mere mortal? Mere mortal? If he were to have gone through such training to get such great strength, he would have been an extraordinary mortal!
Sighing, Art laid back down and stared at Thebe's sleeping form. Smiling, he thought of how long it had been since he met her. What? Two twelvemonths? To some it may not have been long, but to others two twelvemonths might as well have been two decades. What was it to Art? He was not sure they were simply what they were: twelvemonths that he had known Thebe for.
Attempting to find sleep, Art closed his mismatched eyes. Alas, he soon opened them once more.
Sitting up once more, Art soon heard: "What is the matter, my love?" Turning to look at Thebe, her eyes open as she stared up at him, the Young Gael wondered how long his beloved wife had been awake.
Laying back down, Art lay on his side and looked into Thebe's reddish-brown eyes. "How long have you been awake?"
"Long enough. Are you still worried about if Argus knows where we are?" Art didn't even need to answer. Thebe then said to him: "I am worried as well. It is just not my life at stake, but our child's as well."
"What are we going to do, Thebe?" Art asked.
"We aren't going to lose sleep over it, Art." Thebe replied. "We can discuss this in the morning, not in the middle of the night."
Smiling, Art nodded. The night was a time for sleep, so why not just sleep? Giving Thebe a kiss, Art placed a hand on her stomach and thought about the coming birth. He was going to be a father… He was nervous, but at the same time he was excited… and worried, but the worry could wait for the morning.
Staring into her reddish-brown eyes, Art smiled at his beloved Thebe. As she gently caressed his face, he inquired: "Did you have any dreams before I woke you up?"
"A few." Thebe answered, smiling at her husband as she stared into his mismatched eyes and caressed his countenance.
"Any worthy talking about before we go to sleep?"
"Yes, my love… Raising our child with all dangers gone… No Asterion, no Argus…" Leaning in, Thebe gave Art a kiss and then added: "It was a perfect dream."
"One that we may see come true I imagine, Thebe." Commented Art, holding his pregnant wife close to him.
Yes, if they were able to, they could very well see that dream come to pass. A world without Argus, a world without Asterion, no doubt such a world would exist, but would any of them live to see it? Art could only wonder. If he, Thebe and their child were to depart for some other place, a place without an abomination like the Minotaur, Argus would still be around to follow them, to threaten them, unless…
No doubt such a thing would come to pass. Art had no question that he and Argus would come to blows, but where and when? Who would emerge victorious?
Alas, he knew not and such thoughts could wait for the morning.
Yes, wait for the morning.
Taking a deep breath, Art closed his eyes and he heard Thebe say to him: "I love you, Art."
"I love you too, Thebe."
And thus, did Art the Gael find sleep that night with his wife by his side and their feline companion at their feet. It was a slumber filled with many a dream, both good and bad. He dreamed of his encounter with Antaeus, that spawn of an incestuous union between Poseidon and his grandmother Gaia... He dreamed of that stranger who must have been nearly as great as Heracles… He dreamt of Argus armed with a sword and dressed for battle and that defiance of the laws of nature Asterion… He dreamt of a future when he and Thebe raised their child together peacefully… And then finally he dreamt of that girl of his dreams, a girl that he believed to be Thebe, everything about her seemed to his beloved wife.
The Young Gael would approach the damsel, place a hand upon her shoulder and then she would turn to face him…