If it had been any other Oracle than the Great Pythoness of Delphi, he would have ignored the advice, marking it up to another confused, drug-stupefied Goddess worshipper. For he knew that many of the oracle priestesses still acknowledged only the Goddess, like the Minoans themselves.

In spite of his bristling inner resentment, he had sacrificed a he-goat to Aphrodite, performing the killing on the beach, so the goat's blood would placate Poseidon as well. But the miracle that followed, when the he-goat was magically transfomed to a she-goat, had astonished even the Delphic Priestesses and confirmed the Pythoness' advice.

Still, it was a puzzle that hung over him. Why Aphrodite? Why Aphrodite?

As first light broke over the sea, the island of Crete was already a darker shadow against the sky. To the left, far back on the island mass, rose the slopes of Mount Dicte with its sacred cave that was the source of all oracles. Even the Delphic Oracle had been established by Minoan priestesses from the cave at Dicte.

One by one the Athenians unwrapped themselves from their cloaks in the hold of the Minoan ship called The Crane and came to stand on the foredeck. They were silent. The island that lay ahead was their future, and they did not know what it held.

This was the third time the Minoans had come to Athens, demanding seven youths and seven girls for the service of the Minotaur. At home, the stories said that the all-powerful Sea Kings, Minos and his brothers Rhadamanthys and Sarpedon, sacrificed the Athenians to a brutal beast, half-human, half-bull, who lived in impenetrable passages beneath the palace. In spite of Minos' assurances, the fourteen knew that they might never see their beloved Athens again.

This time, thought Theseus, it will be different. His jaw was set grimly as he scanned the island, looking for hints, trying to memorize the lay of the hills and valleys of the gentle land. Oddly, even as the Minoan ship approached the harbor, he could see no fortifications. Were the Minoans so confident they did not even fortify the port on which their rulership over the sea depended?

Theseus, son of Aegeus, King of Athens, had come to end the humiliating demands of the arrogant Minoans, to end their lordship over the rolling sea, to end the power of the Sea Kings, so that Athens could take her place as the most important power in the world.

It had been diffcult to persuade his father to let him lead the delegation of Athenian sacrifices, but finally, through sheer will, he had forced his plan. It was, in the end, ultimately simple. He would kill the Minotaur, and end forever the dominion of the Great Bull. And he would kill Daedalus, the renegade Athenian whose genius had given the Sea Kings the key to their supremacy at sea.

That puzzle still remained. The Sea Kings maintained their power because of a singular, magical ability. Their ships could sail whether the wind was behind them or not. Every other sailing vessel in the world could only sail when the wind was directly behind, and had to rely entirely on rowers when it was not.

From this single advantage the Sea Kings held absolute power at sea, and monopolized the trade of the Mediterranean. Their rowing crews had been drastically reduced, making it possible for the same number of Minoan sailors to man twice as many vessels. And they could go anywhere. Absolutely anywhere, as though the wind no longer directed their fates.

No one, particularly no mainlander, had ever divined the secret that lay behind this mystery, but it was known throughout the civilized world as the cunning of Daedalus . And no foreigner -- except the sacrificial Athenians -- had ever been permitted aboard a Minoan ship, at least none who had ever returned to tell about it.

Even on the long passage from Athens, Theseus himself had been unable to determine how it was done. But it was no mere tale, that was certain. The Minoan vessel never went directly toward the wind, but it could unquestionably sail when the wind was on the beam, and even considerably forward of that.

The Minoan sailors of The Crane seemed to possess no special skills. In fact, they were handicapped by the design of their vessel. Where Athenian sails billowed free and loose, the Minoan sails were confined by a heavy boom at the bottom, and it cost the seamen extra effort just to raise the boom from the deck. The boom was so heavy it was often lashed at a particularly awkward angle, to Theseus' experienced eye.

It had to be some form of Daedalus' magic that was unseeable, he thought. The great billowing square of the sail remained full and pulling strongly, even when the wind would seem to be pressing against its forward side. He shook his head. The traitor Daedalus, Athenian born, serving Minoans. They must pay him well, Theseus thought, for giving them the secret of conquest.

Though the Minoans, he admitted, had never shown the least interest either in conquest or colonization. Their vessels were virtually unarmed, and they seemed interested only in trade. Even with their incredible advantage at sea, they never made war. Were they so stupid they had never thought of the tactical advantage Daedalus' secret would give them in attacking the seacoast cities of the Mediterranean?

With the secret weapon of Daedalus' wings, an army could so outmaneuver their opponents at sea that they could strike like hawks, and never be caught. With that secret in Athenian hands, all the rich lands of the coast, including Egypt, would become Athenian provinces.

Theseus had expected that , once on board a Minoan vessel, he would quickly discover the great secret -- but he had failed. He concluded that Daedalus himself somehow maintained an invisible presence that let the Minoan ships steer so close to the wind. With Daedalus dead, the Minoans would be reduced to equal competition with other sea powers, and there was no question in Theseus' mind that Athens would be triumphant in the end. The effete Minoans had so few weapons they would be easy prey to a strong and powerful army like that of Athens, led by himself.

But there was no question that it would call on all the heroic powers he possessed. His earthly father, Aegeus, could not go so far, being only mortal. But his mother had lain with Poseidon, and in the veins of Theseus ran the blood of gods. Alone in this world, he could raise Athens and himself to the heights.

As he watched the island draw closer and closer in the sunny morning light, he thought, Two deaths. Two deaths only, and the world is ours. What could not be accomplished by armed might, could be done by striking at the heart of the Sea Kings' supremacy.

Daedalus and the Minotaur. The secret center of Minos' power. Daedalus and the Minotaur.