mask innovation’s vital labors.
He left Talos alone in his workshop,
and rarely compelled him to appear at court,
where he’d force some smiles and smear the tiles
with his greasy sandals and his grizzly sweat.
Incense and dust dimmed the splendor
of his hybrid wings when he hung them in the temple
so far above the burnished gold
on Apollo’s idol the people forgot them.
It was said that Crete’s crass dictator
had left his wife to wander the world.
But tucked in his workshop, Talos was late
to hear any rumors that reached the palace.
Minos contradicted many doubters
by landing on Kamikos with a Cretan fleet.
The bloated king’s blood-orange crest
shaded his eyes while he ogled walls
that sorely annoyed him: Knossos appeared
so penetrable by comparison
to this nearly barbaric bumpkin’s capital.
Kokalos surmised that Minos hadn’t
brought an army to breach his walls,
but he couldn’t unriddle the red man’s reasoning.
Kokalos commanded his cooks to contrive
rare delicacies for his dour guest.
Minos didn’t mix his water with wine,
or thank his host for his hospitality.
He pouted in silence while Sicilian rhapsodes
strived to delight his unlistening ears.
When he finished his meat, Minos opened
a little casket with a lily seal:
a unicorn’s pelt pillowed the eight-whorled
tower shell he showed Kokalos.
In a hundred courts, I haven’t found
a king capable of coiling a thread
from this gaping base to this gouging tip.
I can’t imagine how men can lead
cities or kingdoms if they can’t perform
this simple task. It’s such a disgrace.
Kokalos replied: If it pleases you to let me
borrow the shell, I’ll bear it to my advisors
and return quickly with the task performed.
Minos consented with a surly nod.
Kokalos left him in the company
of daughters wearing winsome peploi.
He found Talos testing a bee,
which he’d made of bronze: it was buzzing above him.
The king asked Talos if he could coil
a string up the shell. He stuttered Mel
as he searched his table for a tiny bowl,
in which he stirred some water and honey.
He decanted the syrup in the capsized shell
and gathered clots in the gyred tip,
then drained the water. He went outside
to find a creature who could crawl in crannies.
A thread soon purpled a pismire’s thorax
and worked its way, whorl by whorl,
to the honey hoard, hanging only
a thumbnail’s height out the hole it had entered.
Kokalos showed the shell to his guest,
who almost laughed. I left Knossos
and suffered the insult of a sea tossing
to retrieve Daedalus, the traitor who hides
somewhere in this crypt you call a palace.
He abandoned Crete for this crumbling shithole?
He couldn’t foresee I would seek him here?
Polyeidos created a puzzle
so hard that only he could solve it—
he and the traitor I’ve tracked down at last!
You’ve kept him from me, Kokalos,
Which I consider a serious offense,
but I’ll withhold my revenge, if you hand him over.
His host shuddered and hung his jaw:
I didn’t know his name was Daedalus.
He never mentioned Minos the Great
or the honor he received by serving you.
The liar claimed he came here from Athens.
I’ll convey him to you this very hour,
but first I’ll force him to confess he deceived me.
While we’re torturing him, would you take a bath?
My girls will keep you in good comfort.
They laughed at Minos or his mirthless jokes
as he wobbled between them through the West Garden.
They laughed as they led him to a little house,
whose floor-tiles hatched a hot spring.
Submerged to the neck, Minos retrieved
his proper color and killed his lice.
Some of the daughters danced before him
while others fed the fire boiling
the large kettle that loomed to the side.
And others rubbed his rearing back,
and a pair embraced the brazen bather,