Which meant that the alien's slayer was also responsible for Knossos' fall ... the death that had struck down all the hundreds trapped in the now-blighted palace area tonight.
Burke shivered.
Only there was another side to that, too.
For instance, suppose he'd stayed in his own time; never come to Crete, nor slain the Minotaur?
Where would that leave Earth? As an alien outpost, overrun with telepathic octopodal horrors, while Man survived as mere serfs to carry out the bidding of the master race?
Again, questions without answers.
Burke's shoulders shook.
But then, while he still stood brooding—fatigue-worn, lame, half-sick—the first pale fingers of the sun began to touch the horizon with rose.
Turning, Burke stared down at the river and the tiny port village near its mouth.
As if his move had been a signal, there was a sudden stir of activity. Men hurried to and fro along the water's edge. A Greek long ship pushed out from shore.
Now those aboard the craft hoisted its sail.
A black sail.
Involuntarily, Burke stiffened.
Because the black sail made it Theseus' ship.
And legend said Theseus left Crete with Ariadne.
Burke ran for the point closest to the water; stared tight-lipped at the long, slim vessel.
Scarlet caught his eye—the scarlet of a woman's bright-striped cloak.
The same cloak Ariadne had swirled for him so prettily, perhaps—?
Burke dived from his point, straight down into the river. With all his strength, he swam to intercept the slowly-drifting long ship.
Now those aboard had glimpsed him. Men pointed. Women's voices rose, thin on the morning breeze.
Burke plowed the water closer ... closer....
And now a brawny, familiar figure came striding to the bow: Theseus, Hero of Athens.
Burke swam the harder. Just a dozen strokes more—
Almost, it seemed as if he could reach out and touch Theseus.
The Athenian leaned forward—face stiff, teeth bared, eyes bright with malice. Then his arm came up and back, and Burke saw he gripped a spear.
Theseus hurled the weapon in the same instant.
Desperately, Burke tried to throw himself aside.
But the waves, the water, slowed his movements. The spear struck home, deep in his shoulder.
In spite of himself, Burke cried out.
And now Theseus caught up another spear and poised to throw it.
Burke drove the air from his lungs in a gust. He sank like a rock, turning over and over, as the rush of the Amnissus into the sea carried him along.
But at least there were no more spears; and after a long moment when it seemed his lungs must surely burst, he fought his way back to the surface, and drank in air, and then floated till he could grit his teeth and tear Theseus' javelin from his shoulder.
After that, there was the long swim back to shore—a swim against the current, this time. By the time Burke made it, Theseus' ship was toy-size in the distance.
For his own part, and what with fatigue and pain and loss of blood, Burke wasn't at all sure that he cared whether he lived or died. Stumbling up from the water onto a narrow strip of beach, he crumpled face-down before he'd gone ten steps.
Half in delirium, thinking of Ariadne, he almost sobbed aloud.
The delirium grew. He knew it did, because now he could even hear her calling to him dimly, as from afar.
Only then the voice came closer: "Dion, Dion! Please, my lord Dion, speak to me!"
Hands lifted his head; cradled it in soft arms. Tender fingers smoothed his hair and brushed the sand from his face.
With a tremendous effort, Burke opened his eyes.
And there was Ariadne.
It took him a full minute to know he wasn't dreaming, or in that dark half-world between reality and hallucination.
Then, at last, incredibly, it was true, and she was with him, her salt tears spattering his face faster than she could wipe them away. "Oh, my lord Dion ..." she whispered, again and again, "My Dion, my Dion!"
Burke said hoarsely, "Ariadne, what happened? I thought—How'd you get here?"
"How indeed, my lord Dion!" Of a sudden the slim princess was laughing through her tears. "I walked, as you did, though it took me longer, for I wanted to be sure we were free of that dog Theseus before I joined you."
"Free of Theseus—?"
"Of course. When he came seeking me at my quarters in the night I fled, then followed him, till I knew for certain he was aboard his ship."
And that brought up another matter: "But—the cloak—the woman—"
"The woman?" Never had Ariadne looked more a picture of wide-eyed innocence. "I do not understand, my lord."
Burke gave her back stare for stare, holding his tongue; and after a moment, with a sound suspiciously like a giggle, she murmured, "It could not be my maid you mean, could it, my lord?"
"Your maid—?"
"Yes, the peasant girl who found such favor with Theseus." Ariadne's dark eyes held more than a hint of laughter. "I thought it only fitting that he be rewarded for his efforts, Lord Dion. So I wrapped the wench in my cloak and told her that if she kept her face hidden and played the role of Princess Ariadne long enough and well enough, she might end up as Theseus' queen."
The picture was perfect. Burke laughed till he feared he'd open his wound again.
Ariadne laughed with him for a moment, then sobered. "I meant what I told her, Lord Dion. She's a clever girl, and Theseus can see no farther than the nearest bed. By the time he reaches Athens, she may have him so in her toils as not to be able to bear the thought of parting from her."
Burke smiled wryly; shook his head. "I'm sorry, Ariadne. It won't work. Theseus isn't going to like being tricked. So when he puts in at Naxos, he'll leave your maid behind."
Ariadne's great eyes widened. "And—Theseus himself—?"
"When he reaches Athens, he'll find his father dead."
"I see." The slim, lovely princess nodded slowly. "And then, you'll go to Athens, and you'll kill him. And after that, if my father, Minos, still lives, you'll kill him, too. And then—"
Burke said, "No, princess."
"No—?" she stared. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, I'm all through killing."
Burke shifted, trying to ease his wound. "You see, Ariadne, I don't need to kill anyone. Because Theseus isn't stupid, really, and after all this trouble here, he's going to settle down and make Athens a good king.
"As for your father, he's alive. But we don't need to worry any more about him. All he's thinking of is avenging himself on Daedalus for helping us. Only Daedalus is going to get away to the court of King Cocalus, in Sicily, and Cocalus' daughter will kill Minos."
It was a long speech. When he'd finished, Ariadne brought up her hands and crossed them on her firm, bared breasts. "It is good to know what the future holds, my lord Dionysus. I thank you."
Quick irritation touched Burke. "Damn it, girl, I'm not—"
He stopped short.
That line he'd half spoken—the one about him not being Dionysus, not a god; just plain Dion Burke?
Was it true, really?
After all, in a world as primitive as this, what was a god but a man who knew spectacularly more than his fellows?
So, wasn't Ariadne maybe right? Wasn't the Dionysus of legend maybe just plain Dion Burke, twentieth century man, set down in Bronze Age Crete with his name corrupted to fit the language and the era?
And in that case—
Ariadne squirmed a little and began to smooth his hair again. Her hand trembled, ever so slightly. Her voice, too. She whispered, "My lord, this talk of days to come—would you tell me about—about—"
"About you, you mean? About your own future?"
Ariadne hid her face. Her words came tremulous and muffled. "Yes, yes, my lord!"
Burke couldn't help but smile a little. It was a good thing he practically knew his classical mythology by heart.
And there was nothing quite like time travel to make a man's predictions work out.
Shifting, he brought his good arm up so he could hold Ariadne. Then, very gently, he began: "You needn't fear, my princess. You and I—we'll go to Lemnos, make our home there. Then, we'll have four children—Thoas, Staphylus, Oenopion, Peparthus...."
It was a good story, even if somewhat foreshortened by the fact that Ariadne stopped it with her lips.
Then, abruptly, she halted the new activity, too, saying, "My lord Dionysus, Lemnos is a far place. We'd better try to find a ship before the sun climbs higher into the sky."
Together, they got up, then, and moved slowly down the beach towards the tiny harbor town.
As for the sun, Burke decided it had never shone on a finer day.