“On the morning the Minotaur was born, all of Knossos awoke to the sound of Pasiphaë’s cries.” The Crete Gazette was first to break the story. The headline read “KING MINOS CUCKOLDED BY A BULL!” The tabloids followed shamelessly. Newspapers sold like hotcakes. But you can’t blame people. It’s a juicy story. Pasiphaë, wife of King Minos, Queen of Crete, cruelly fated to lust after a bull and yet – despite her natural beauty, resplendent robes and beguiling ways – the bull wasn’t interested! Pasiphaë, however, wouldn’t take no for an answer. She was a queen, after all, and would have her way by whatever means necessary. Daedalus provided the means. It wasn’t what you’d call noble work but it would help put food on the table. And, besides, the mechanics of the project intrigued him.

His solution, quite ingenious really, was to fashion a wooden cow on wheels which Pasiphaë would fit into. A similar device, you’ll remember, was constructed at Troy. Daedalus designed the cow so Pasiphaë could get in and still have her – ahem – womanly parts exposed. Nightly, Pasiphaë visited the workshop where she would disrobe in front of Daedulus so parts of the cow could be fitted to her. During the day, while Daedalus hammered away, Pasiphaë would wander out to the field to gaze upon the bull. He was a magnificent beast, white as marble with a massive neck and a dewlap so large it nearly touched the ground. His bellow made Pasiphaë swoon.
Daedalus, having completed his work, placed Pasiphaë inside the contraption and rolled her out into the meadow. We’ll not dwell on the salacious details of what happened next. Suffice it to say the whole affair was consummated to the satisfaction of both parties. In time, a Minotaur was born.

As you know, there’s no keeping a Minotaur secret. The king’s public relations people blamed it all on Poseidon. They said he made Pasiphaë do it because he was mad at Minos. People believed it too. Poseidon was a hot head and everyone knew it. The whole affair quieted down after that and a scandal was avoided. Minos got Daedalus to build him a labyrinth and that’s where he kept the Minotaur. In the Musée du Cabinet des Médailles, on rue Richelieu in Paris, there is – among the Roman coins, the ancient Greek pottery, Charlemagnes’s chess set and Dogobert’s throne – a drinking cup and, on that cup, a portrait of Pasiphaë, the baby minotaur on her lap, pressed to her bosom. Perhaps, you’ve seen it?

Originally published in White Wall Review 41 (2017)