Billy Stuart in the Minotaur's Lair Page 3

  “I have him! I have him!” Yeti yells. “He’s at my mercy! Don’t worry about him! He’s just a big man-cow!”

  The Minotaur doesn’t even register Yeti’s presence. What will the Minotaur do next? His BIG brown eyes fix on…me! Why me?

  “Your skirt!” yells Timoree. “Get rid of that skirt!”

  “It’s not—it’s a kilt!”

  “Okay, but it’s a RED kilt!” the young woman points out.

  How did we remember the scarves but forget such an important detail? Desperately I turn toward…FrouFrou!

  “Go on, dog! Attack! Attack! Grrrrrr…grrrrrr! Skisssss! Skisssss! It’s only a mail carrier dressed as a Minotaur for Halloween.”

  “That’s stupid, Billy Stuart.” Foxy says, getting angry.

  “Be careful!” warns Musky.

  Just like a bull in a bullfight, the Minotaur comes for me, head lowered, horns ready to attack.

  “Don’t worry, Billy Stuart! I’ll hold him back,” Yeti says, still clutching the leg of the monster.

  The Minotaur draws nearer and nearer, ready to gore me. He comes at me from the right, and I dodge danger by a hair.

  “Olé!” cry the members of my pack from the shelter of one of the passages.

  “Toreador! Be careful!” cries Foxy.

  Carried forward by his momentum, the beast slips and skids across the floor. This gives me a chance to escape. I try to put as much distance as I can between the Minotaur and me. FrouFrou, thinking it is a game, comes along, bounding happily around me.

  “This is not the time, you dirty dog! Go away!”

  “Come here, FrouFrou!” Foxy orders in a voice loud enough to be heard over the Minotaur’s incessant MOOING.

  The poodle finally obeys the fox, just as the monster returns to attack.

  “Take off your kilt!” says Timoree. “It’s your only chance!”

  “Noooooooo!” A raccoon must keep his dignity until the bitter end. “I’d rather die!”

  “If you don’t reconsider, that’s what’s gonna happen, Billy Stuart!” says a worried Musky.

  Running in a straight line is not going to work in these circumstances. I zig zag around the big room to deter my abominable adversary. My agility more than my speed is what manages to keep me alive. More than once, I switch direction at the last second, exasperating the Minotaur, who is furious at missing me.

  But how long will I be able to delay the inevitable outcome of this confrontation? At some point, I’ll be impaled on his horns.

  With a Little Help from My Friends

  I glance at the Zintrepids. Shifty is rummaging in his bag. What is he doing? Oh no!

  He has taken his red scarf out and is stretching it out over his body, which instantly takes on its color. The color that attracts the Minotaur’s wrath.

  “I’m creating a diversion! Save yourself, Billy Stuart!”

  The red chameleon moves to the middle of the room. The Minotaur spots him, gives up chasing me and starts toward Shifty. Bellowing, the Minotaur charges. Shifty stands as still as a STATUE. My friend has no chance. I scream:

  “Nooooooooooo!”

  Suddenly Shifty throws his scarf as far as he can and lays down. His body takes on the brown color of the marble floor. To the Minotaur, it is as if his target has vanished into thin air. He hits the brakes right in front of my COURAGEOUS companion without detecting his presence. The chameleon has simply melted into the decor.

  Yeti, who has a ringside seat, waves and gives Shifty a victorious thumbs-up. It is a temporary victory that allows us to catch our breath. But I’m not out of danger for long.

  The Minotaur lifts his face toward the sky and let out a loooooooong cry. He lowers his massive head—and spots me in the corner of the room. He paws powerfully at the floor, then gallops in my direction. I have no choice. Shifty risked his life for me. There goes my DIGNITY!

  With a sweeping gesture I would qualify as courageous, I undo my belt to take off my kilt.

  “Throw it!” Foxy implores.

  “Okay, Troop! But don’t look!” I say to my friends, who are definitely not listening to me.

  I SPIN my kilt over my head before hurling it toward the center of the room. Then the unthinkable happens. That imbecile of a dog, whose name I won’t mention, runs to fetch the kilt. He gets it in his mouth and comes back toward me to return it, with the Minotaur on his heels!

  “Let go, FrouFrou!” Foxy commands.

  The poodle doesn’t hear her—he is too focused on playing a game of fetch with me. I’ll have to save myself all over again.

  What a ridiculous scene! The MINOTAUR is chasing a dog who is trying to catch a half-dressed raccoon. I lean to the RIGHT to confuse the monster, then lean to the LEFT . But FrouFrou is following me like a shadow and is either going to trip me up or slow me down.

  Without stopping, I try to take the kilt out of his jaws.

  “Give it to me, you four-legged pom-pom! Give it to me!”

  “Billy Stuart, stop insulting him!” Foxy cries. “Please, FrouFrou, give it to me!”

  I don’t dare pull the kilt away for fear of the fabric getting damaged by the poodle’s fangs. I see the monster getting ready to charge again.

  I flick FrouFrou’s nose. He gives a plaintive cry, drops the kilt and runs to find comfort in Foxy’s arms.

  I resume my run around the room, my kilt in my hands instead of around my waist. This time, I know it’ll be the final act.

  Meathead!

  With that imbecile FrouFrou now safely sheltered with Foxy, the Minotaur has only me to focus on. He is absolutely captivated by the color of my kilt.

  I stop skirting the walls and make a direct run right toward the center of the room. My plan could work, but I know I won’t get a second chance. It’s now or never.

  “shake a leg, Billy Stuart!” Musky cries. “He’s practically on top of you!”

  Yes, thank you for reminding me. I quickly glance behind me. I wait a little, just a little…

  There!

  I throw my kilt into the air. Instead of landing on the floor, it gets hooked onto one of the Minotaur’s horns. The monster stops abruptly. The kilt hangs in front of his eyes. Drawn to it like iron to a magnet, the monstrous beast dashes forward, his view partially obstructed.

  The poodle sniffs the ground, searching, and then dashes off toward a passage a few meters to the left. He yaps all the while, as if saying, “Come with me!” Of course, we follow him.

  Before PLUNGING myself deeper down the hallway, I look back one last time at the big room. What is the meaning of Grandfather Virgil’s clue, in the heart of the city’s maze?

  WARNING! The Minotaur is trying to get back up. He has a huge goose egg on his forehead. With one knee on the ground, he feebly starts to get up. Once on his legs, he staggers around. When he sees that we’re gone, he SHRIEKS in fury. He lurches a few steps in my direction. And then, as if pulled by an invisible cord, he trips all over again. It’s clear that he has not regained all his senses.

  “Go on, troop! We must not dillydally!”

  I turn around quickly—and discover that I’m alone! They haven’t waited for me.

  The Exploit

  kabillions of crusty-clawed crawfish in that Bulstrode River! Here I am, lost in the labyrinth again!

  It’s ironic. After my fighting and flooring the Minotaur, after my saving the lives of my companions, they’ve abandoned me like an OLD SET OF BAGPIPES. They’ve escaped without me, guided by a dog whom I have looked after day and night and on whom I have wasted the best days of my summer holiday.

  BUNCH OF INGRATES!

  How will I find the exit now? The passages all look exactly the same. If I choose the wrong direction, I might end up wandering around inside here for the rest of my days, and I have no doubt that the monster will keep looking for me. But if I stay put, the end result…will likely be the same.

  The anxiety I feel at this outcome is making it hard to think. That and the Minotaur’s incessan
t mooing…

  Wait! I have an idea. I should be able to smell FrouFrou’s trail. There must still be a scent.

  I squat and try to detect the YOU-KNOW-WHAT at the base of the walls. Preoccupied by my olfactory research, I don’t hear the beast behind me.

  I jump when I spot him…leaping with joy on his hind legs.

  “Here you are!” Foxy rejoices. “I thought you’d gotten lost, my adorable little treasure.”

  If I were Shifty hearing this, my skin would have turned the color of my kilt. But Foxy’s words warm my heart, her calling me her adorable treasure.

  Our race (we certainly are not walking) through the DARK corridors seems like it is never going to end. The Minotaur’s grunts are getting louder, a sure sign that he’s getting closer. And we have started to slow down because the poodle, who was in such a hurry before, has lost his trail and has to find it again. Which is very annoying.

  I have the SINKING feeling that we’ve been going in circles for the last few minutes.

  What a mistake!

  The dog is right! Daylight at the end of a passageway shows us our way out. We emerge from the labyrinth, dazzled by the sun beating down on the entrance.

  “It’s the first time someone has come out ALIVE!”

  The rumor of our feat spreads like a puff of smoke throughout the city.

  People are gathering around the labyrinth, hoping to witness this extraordinary event. The king, alerted to our feat, promptly arrives with his armed guards and sends for the Athenian prisoners.

  In front of this cheering crowd, I congratulate myself on having remembered to put my kilt back on! Appearing half dressed in public would have been terribly humiliating.

  A New Threat

  Once the surprise has worn off, Ronos, guardian of the labyrinth, is overjoyed! King Minos will have to give him the hand of his daughter and his fortune, because someone has conquered the ultimate test of the labyrinth. At last his big day has arrived!

  The king, followed by his guard, comes over to us, suspiciously happy. Ronos says hello to a young woman with long black hair, who is behind them. She is no doubt his bride to be.

  Behind them the Athenians, clothed in red, are assembled. They will be fed to the Minotaur over the next few days. Among them I spot Zeppelinos, obviously happy to see us alive.

  With one quick gesture, Minos quiets the crowd and addresses us.

  “I don’t know with what evil spell you have managed to escape the jaws of my Minotaur and get yourselves through the mazes of my Labyrinth—but I’m impressed.”

  “I don’t want to brag,” says Yeti, PUFFING OUT HIS CHEST.

  King Minos leans toward him. “Impressed, yes, but also sorry.”

  “Sorry? Why?”

  He SNAPS his fingers, and the soldiers approach, pushing the Athenians ahead of them.

  “Sorry because now I have to do what the Minotaur was not able to. It’s a question of safeguarding our reputation in the modern world. The gods will be angry if they don’t receive their gift. And since the labyrinth is our principal tourist attraction, you must understand that letting you live would force me to change my ingenious motto When you go in, you never go out!”

  With the tips of their spears, the guards push us back against the wall of the labyrinth.

  “Him too!” the king orders, pointing at Ronos.

  Minos’s daughter objects. “Father! You can’t do that!” she says, in tears. “You promised us!”

  I’m standing at the entrance to the labyrinth. I tell the Athenians to take off their red robes and throw them to the ground. Without questioning me, they do. I plead with Zeppelinos to give me his. The king doesn’t suspect anything and seems to think I am being thrifty.

  King Minos starts to stammer as the Minotaur barrels out of the labyrinth. The crowd is SHOCKED. The soldiers lower their spears and back away from the entrance.

  The Minotaur is blinded by the sun and tries to shield his eyes.

  “No one move,” I say.

  I throw Zeppelinos’s red robe into the air, which, helped along by a stiff breeze, lands…on the king’s head.

  The Minotaur, with an awful bellow, hurls himself toward Minos, causing panic in the crowd. The people flee—all except the king, who can’t see a thing.

  He rips the robe from his head. Frustrated and red with fury, he yells, “Who dares attack a king?”

  The king looks up and sees the Minotaur just a few short centimeters from his face. With one robust swipe the Minotaur seizes his royal prey, who is now hysterical, and flings him onto his shoulders. Then he retreats to the solitude of his labyrinth.

  The Athenians and Zintrepids take advantage of the chaos to escape to the Port of knossos.

  Safe and Sound

  Are we fugitives? Traveling with the Athenians, should we use less-traveled paths? Nope! In Knossos, the rumor is that people want to be free of the Minotaur. Those who are either SCARED or wise stay home. Those who consider themselves BRAVE head toward the labyrinth, swords in hand. They want to liberate the city from the monster and make history. And those people who are CURIOUS can’t resist running toward the spectacle just to see what will happen.

  At this moment we have nothing to worry about—the main roads are completely free of anyone!

  “We are free!” Timoree cheers.

  Incredulously I ask, “Free?”

  My Zintrepids troop knows exactly why I seem incredulous. Can we really be free when we’ve landed in a strange land after time traveling, going thousands of years back in time?

  At this stage of our adventure, the only difference between the labyrinth and our current path is that there are no monsters on our tail. Is it our destiny to be on this Greek island forever? Should we leave by boat? Where should we go? Is it even possible to return home to the twenty-first century without the clue we were meant to find in the heart of the city’s maze?

  The only thing we have brought back from our stay in the labyrinth is Timoree. And she isn’t a thing, much less a clue.

  “With a little luck, your brother’s ship will still be docked,” I tell her.

  “Timoree, how did you survive in the labyrinth?” asks Musky.

  “Ah, that’s a long story. I managed to…”

  The young woman abruptly stops her story when we reach the top of a hill, where we have a magnificent view of the port of Knossos. She recognizes the boat of her brother, Captain Loslobos.

  “Yes, he is there! Let’s hurry!”

  She races down the slope so fast she’s in danger of hurting herself.

  Once on the wharf, she frantically searches for her brother aboard the ship. He has his back to us, facing the sea. Timoree cries his name and waves frantically.

  “Loslobos! Loslobos!”

  The captain swings around. His whole being explodes with joy.

  “Timoree! Timoree!”

  The brother and sister reunite on the gangplank and throw their arms around each other.

  Tears flow abundantly. Reunions are so moving!

  We climb aboard the ship, and the captain welcomes us as heroes.

  “Ah! My friends! Thank you for saving my sister. I will be forever in your debt. This boat is your boat.”

  “COOL! I’ll drive!” Yeti says enthusiastically.

  “Cast off!” orders the captain. “We’re going home!”

  The Clue

  We don’t need to use the oars for the return trip to Athens. The wind vigorously blows the sails, which are white now. As a tribute to his sister, Loslobos has pulled down the black sails and replaced them with these, which are more appropriate for the celebration.

  Ugobos, the slave guard, is in a bad mood. It makes him very unhappy that we have become friends with the captain. He wants to avoid our company altogether.

  At dinner we are seated at the captain’s table. I get comfortably tucked in to the left of Timoree. Our adventures have given me an appetite. Am I ever hungry!

  We still don’t know how the young
woman survived the labyrinth. But that’s the least of my worries. I don’t care if she ate rats or roaches or if she spent weeks drinking rainwater.

  “Timoree, when we first ran into you in the big room, why did you say ‘it’s about time’?”

  embarrassed, she hides her face in her hands.

  “You’re right, Billy Stuart. That was not a very polite way to greet my rescuers.”

  “You were waiting for us to arrive? How is that possible?”

  Silence falls around the table. My companions lean in to listen to our conversation—all except for Yeti, who is too busy recounting his exploits to the captain.

  “One of your…um”—she tries to think of the correct word—“companions accompanied my group to the labyrinth. He looked like you, Billy Stuart, but he was quite a bit older.”

  “kabillions of crusty-clawed crawfish in that Bulstrode River!”

  Timoree takes a mouthful of wine, gargles, fills her cheeks and swallows. Then she starts her story again.

  “Your grandfather, Billy Stuart, understood that the MINOTAUR was attracted to the color red. But I was the only one who listened. Once I was inside the labyrinth, I wore my white robe and was the only survivor.”

  I rummage in my backpack and take out the leather notebook. I open it and leaf through. There is the map, roughly sketched, and the message from my grandfather. I stop at the page after that, which is blank, and darken it by rubbing it with the coal.

  “What is this?” the captain asks as my grandfather’s handwriting reveals itself.