I must recount my mother's story. Men's behavior did not make my mother happy. She found happiness only in womanly endeavors, women's pursuits. I usually did not try to understand my mother when she pouted in her unhappiness, but there was a thoughtful pensiveness in Pittheus yesterday as he told me of my brush the the hero, Herakles, that caused me to rise and follow my mother through the large wooden doors.
Somehw I knew there were two stories to be told yesterday. My mother lay couched in her solar, her slave, Dianne, fanning Aithra as nervous sweat beaded her brow, undeterred. I thought she would send me away. She usually did when her eyes grew unseeing with sadness. But spying me at the door, a pale hand gestured me forward so I came in.
"You are almost a man now, Theseus I can see it clearly in your prowess as a hunter. Your grandfather sees it as well. Come and sit by me," she said as she waved Dianne away and flipped her fingers at a nearby stool. Rather impatiently, I snatched the wood stool over. I hate the drama of women and felt at the time only disgust for my mother's weakness for the dramatic. But she ignored my anger and bade me move closer so she could tell me the story of my conception. If she had stated earlier the matter to which she was going to speak, I would have come eagerly before then.
Pitteheus, she explained, was visited by Aigeus one late evening on his way from the Oracle at Delphi. He was so beleagured and frustrated he told my grandfather of the riddle the Oracle spun for him when he asked about begetting a son. My grandfather, though, understood the riddle and explained- my mother was angry as she said this- Aigeus was to have a son the next time he lay with a woman. Mother says my father made to leave that very moment to go home and beget a son, but Pittheus, in a sudden moment of comprehension, lied and stated Ageius would not reach home in time to get a son with his wife. He offered my mother as substitute and Ageius gratefully accepted.
I had guessed this much about the story. Over the years the men have spoken in quiet corners and behind concealing hands. I knew my mother had lain with Ageius in obeisance to Pittheus. But my mother's story wasn't finished. In the middle of the night, after obliging the whim of her father, my mother was awakened the the goddess Athene, who coerced her to the island of Sphairia.
"Why did she want you to go there?" I asked my mother? I could not fathom what would have caused a god to take notice of Aithra. She was not overly beautiful or clever. She was not particularly pios either. But to wonder at the logic of the gods is a useless act. their reasonings are their own and we the dying ones are not privy to their thoughts.
My mother, in naught but a loose robe, her dard long hair flowing wildly in the harsh breeze of the mid-night, waded through the ankle deep waters seperating the island and mainland, her hands clutching the thin white linen tightly, her nose full of salty air. I could see her in my mind's eye. She got to the island at Athene's behest and who did she find waiting for her but Poseidon who takes her and possesses her without any regret.
I understand now, my mother's disgusted looks, those moments when she is deep in thought and flinches away at a far off sound. In one night, she was sold to one man and raped by a god. Though she raised me with love, I am a reminder of those hateful acts. The mystery of my mother's darker moments is solved, but I've another handed to me to ponder. Am I the son of a king or of a god?
My mother is right, also, that I am a man now. In my heart I know the answerof my paternity lies in my journey to take my place next to my father. I sense this journey will be a test of my character and resolve. But as surely as I know what I must face, I know the gods have a plan for me and they will not be thwarted! I must sleep now. I am to travel with my mother to retrieve the material birthrights Aigeus left for me. I will take the symbols of my parentage and use them to prove my worthiness to be King of Athens.
