The Flight of Icarus
When Theseus escaped from the labyrinth, King Minos flew into a rage
with its builder, Daedalus, and ordered him shut up in a high tower that faced the
lonely sea. In time, with the help of his young son,
Icarus, Daedalus managed to escape from the tower, only to find himself
a prisoner on the island. Several times he tried by bribery to stow away
on one of the vessels sailing from Crete, but King Minos kept strict
watch over them, and no ships were allowed to sail without being
carefully searched.
Daedalus was an ingenious artist and was not discouraged by his
failures. “Minos may control the land and sea,” he said, “but he does
not control the air. I will try that way.”
He called his son Icarus to him and told the boy to gather up all the
feathers he could find on the rocky shore. As thousands of gulls soared
over the island, Icarus soon collected a huge pile of feathers. Daedalus
then melted some wax and made a skeleton in the shape of a bird’s wing.
The smallest feathers he pressed into the soft wax and the large ones he
tied on with thread. Icarus played about on the beach happily while his
father worked, chasing the feathers that blew away in the strong wind
that swept the island and sometimes taking bits of the wax and working
it into strange shapes with his fingers.
It was fun making the wings. The sun shone on the bright feathers, the
breezes ruffled them. When they were finished Daedalus fastened them to
his shoulders and found himself lifted upwards, where he hung poised in
the air. Filled with excitement, he made another pair for his son. They
were smaller than his own, but strong and beautiful.
Finally, one clear, wind-swept morning, the wings were finished and
Daedalus fastened them to Icarus’s shoulders and taught him how to fly.
He bade him watch the movements of the birds, how they soared and glided
overhead. He pointed out the slow, graceful sweep of their wings as they
beat the air steadily, without fluttering. Soon Icarus was sure that he,
too, could fly and, raising his arms up and down, skimmed over the white
sand and even out over the waves, letting his feet touch the snowy foam
as the water thundered and broke over the sharp rocks. Daedalus watched
him proudly but with misgivings. He called Icarus to his side. Putting
his arm round the boy’s shoulders, he said, “Icarus, my son, we are
about to make our flight. No human being has ever traveled through the
air before, and I want you to listen carefully to my instructions. Keep
at a moderate height, for if you fly too low the fog and spray will clog
your wings, and if you fly too high the heat will melt the wax that
holds them together. Keep near me and you will be safe.”
He kissed Icarus and fastened the wings more
securely to his son’s shoulders. Icarus, standing in the bright sun, the
shining wings drooping gracefully from his shoulders, his golden hair
wet with spray and his eyes bright and dark with excitement, looked like
a lovely bird. Daedalus’s eyes filled with tears and turning away he
soared into the sky, calling to Icarus to follow. From time to time, he
looked back to see that the boy was safe and to note how he managed his
wings in his flight. As they flew across the land to test their prowess
before setting out across the dark wild sea, ploughmen below stopped
their work and shepherds gazed in wonder, thinking Daedalus and Icarus
were gods.
Father and son flew over Samos and Delos which lay to their left, and
Lebinthus, which lay on their right. Icarus, beating his wings in joy,
felt the thrill of the cool wind on his face and the clear air above and
below him. He flew higher and higher up into the blue sky until he
reached the clouds. His father saw him and called out in alarm. He tried
to follow him, but he was heavier and his wings would not carry him. Up
and up Icarus soared, through the soft moist clouds and out again toward
the glorious sun. He was bewitched by the sense of freedom and beat his
wings frantically so that they would carry him higher and higher to
heaven itself. The blazing sun beat down on the wings and softened the
wax. Small feathers fell from the wings and floated softly down, warning
Icarus to stay his flight and glide to earth. But the enchanted boy did
not notice them until the sun became so hot that the largest feathers
dropped off and he began to sink. Frantically he fluttered his arms, but
no feathers remained to hold the air. He cried out to his father, but
his voice was submerged in the blue waters of the sea, which has forever
after been called by his name.
Daedalus, crazed by anxiety, called back to him, “Icarus! Icarus, my
son, where are you?” At last he
saw the feathers floating from the sky and soon his son plunged through
the clouds into the sea. Daedalus hurried to save him, but it was too
late. He gathered the boy in his arms and flew to land, the tips of his
wings dragging in the water from the double burden they bore. Weeping
bitterly, he buried his small son and called the land Icaria in his
memory.
For more exciting myths of ancient Greece, read Stories of the Gods and
Heroes by Sally Benson, from which these tales were taken. You’ll also
enjoy reading about the adventures of Jason and other Greek heroes in
The Golden Fleece and the Heroes Who Lived Before Achilles by Padraic
Colum.
Very different, but equally exciting, are the Norse myths of ancient
Scandinavia. Legends of the North by Olivia Coolidge tells tales of
Norse gods—the powerful Thor, the trickster Loki, and many more.
