B. Alexander Howerton Read Online Free PDF Page B

from now on out.”
    Steve smiled to himself, then said, “Whatever.  I’m sick of
your whining.  Here, shut up and drink another beer.”  He tossed a can to Alan. 
The shot went a little wild, and Alan took a few steps to reach for the can
passing just beyond his fingertips.  He tripped on a piece of wood at the edge
of the log pile, next to which he had been standing, and went flipping over it,
landing on his back on the other side, making a huge clatter in the process.
    Steve laughed uproariously.  “Serves you right, man.”
    Alan yelled back at him, “You did that on purpose.”  Then,
seeing the humor in the situation, he began to laugh as well.  They chuckled
for a minute or two then resumed drinking, talking, and staring into the fire.

5.   1497 B.C.E. — Crete
    Menelos never tired of the bustle of the bull ring.  He
never felt more alive than when he was practicing for a bull-jumping ceremony,
and he especially enjoyed showing off his skill and prowess before Alena, the
best girl bull-jumper.  She was there today, obviously showing off for his
benefit as well. They were exercising strenuously in the bull ring with all the
other hopeful young bull-jumpers.  They were all preparing for a great festival
which was to be held the next day, the day of the year the sun was longest in
the sky.
    The youths were stretching, or running, or wrestling, or
practicing back handsprings on the ground. They were all young, lithe, and
beautiful, the boys as well as the girls wearing nothing but short tight
skirts, accentuating their narrow hips and thin waists.  Despite all the
beautiful young people about him, Menelos was strangely drawn to Alena.  She
had an indefinable quality that piqued his interest, and he was mulling over in
his mind ways to get a chance to talk to her more.  They had done their
exercises together, but had never gotten a chance to trade more than a few
words, and those were focused on their training.
    Menelos was proud of his skill.  Bull-jumping was one of the
most highly prized talents in the city of Knossos, on the island-state of
Crete.  Knossos and her sister cites had become rich and powerful by building
great ships and plying the waters around their home island, trading as far away
as the mysterious land of the Egyptians, with the crafty but practical Phoenicians,
and with the barbaric Mycenaens to the north, who were crude and clumsy, but
possessed gold and many other goods that were scarce on Crete.  Residing on an
isolated island with a powerful fleet, Knossos felt little need to maintain an
armed force.  The walls of Knossos and the other cities were not fortified. 
But they were all wary of the heavily-armed barbarian Mycenaens to the north,
and wished to maintain their youth in a state of physical perfection and
readiness.  That was the ultimate purpose of the bull-jumping ceremony.
    Menelos was good.  He had already jumped bulls several times
in practice, and twice in ceremony.  He was tacitly acknowledged by his peers
to be the foremost among them.  He never tired of the thrill of watching in
tense anticipation as a raging bull charged at him, horns lowered.  At the last
possible second, before he would have been gored, he would quickly thrust his
arms out, grab each of the bull’s horn next to its head, and leap upward.  The
bull, surprised and angered, would flip its head up, tossing Menelos high into
the air.  He would execute and expert flip and land, feet first, on the bull’s
back.  He would ride there as long as he could, arms outstretched, the beast
raging and thrashing beneath him, until he was compelled to leap to safety.  He
could never ride more than a few seconds, but he held the record for length of
ride.  His coaches acknowledged his excellence, marked him for greatness, and
gave him extra exercises.  This was a great honor, for it was not infrequent
that a hopeful young bull-jumper was severely injured, or even killed.
    His pride was wounded