The proper choice for our prince’s tutor!
A trustworthy woman’s as rare
as that color-changing cow I just ate.
Their treachery’s irrevocable:
Once they discover that their wombs lack it,
are a cock’s shadow, they covet fucking
each waking moment—no matter what
man or what—weigh the Argive!
Daedalus had produced a prodigious balance,
which Icarus rolled in on casters.
They left the octopus alone on its shelf.
So Polyeidos perched on one pan,
and Minos flung ingots at the other, until
the beam poised a proper tau.
He told his slaves, Triple that sum!
The Argive, bruised by bouncing ingots,
lurched off the pan and applauded Minos:
Your Olympian arm lavishes awe
as well as gold on your grateful subjects.
If the Aloads have the arrogance
to fling mountains at your father again,
you can fling them back and bury those freaks
beneath a quarry they’ll never escape!
Tutoring the prince would surpass any honor
my humble people could hope to achieve.
But my love for Argos, that little city,
tells me I should return home now..
Minos replied: I’ll permit you to go
soon as you’ve taught my son the art
of divination. It’s undignified
for a king so mighty, for the man who conquered
all Attica, for the eldest son
of Zeus and Europa, for the richest man
in history, to have to consult
people outside his palace walls.
Even Ida’s too far. The Argive answered:
King Minos is wise to demand royal
independence. Your palace has nurtured
the greatest minds of Greece, so why
should it lack diviners? Delphi’s cheating!
It’s time that Knossos controlled its own fate!
The only problem with your plan is me.
I can’t teach him to tell what will happen.
You know I’m a harper, not Tiresias.
The king pouted. When I pick someone
to do something, he’ll do it, or else.
Poor Daedalus—his punishment
has only begun. I’ll give you a year.
No excuses! Knowing and teaching
are as different as rot and honey.
So Polyeidos and the prince began
meeting early every morning
to learn or to teach how lateness turns.
The bard hadn’t been too humble:
he had no idea how to predict
what would happen. But he’d heard the Pythia’s
sayings were always hexameters.
Glaukos would learn to glide across
thought’s sea on six fingers.
If he lacked the content, at least he’d acquire
divination’s difficult form.
His discipline surprised the bard,
who expected a pupil more like Minos.
The prince rarely played outside:
the other boys obeyed their parents
and never mentioned his misadventure,
but they couldn’t stop staring at his gray
and sutured feet. His friend Icarus
spied on his lessons and relayed what he saw
to his convalescing father, who came to fear
that Polyeidos might actually know
what he was doing: the discipline
with which Glaukos worked on his letters—
an alarming sign in a son of Minos.
All Crete would soon celebrate
the prince’s first post-mortem birthday.
Daedalus tongued his extant teeth
and brooded revenge while his bruises healed.