I am the bull of Knossos, where rich Minoans live amidst painted splendour. On the island of Crete I am surrounded by the Mediterranean Sea, by mountains and plains, by bronze, by plaster, by amphorae of wine. On the extensive fresco painted upon a wall of the Central Court at Knossos I am light brown in hue, my long horns pointing forward, my neck a solid arc of muscle. My hooves are yellow, my tail whisking high in the air. They wish to tame me through such perilous sports, but I am a wild animal.
Bull Leaping
They approach me as I charge at them, youths all of them, male and female, walking, though not at speed. Their faces bear a variety of expressions, some excited, some exhilarated, some showing signs of fear. At the last moment before impact, they reach out with both hands, grabbing my horns and leaping up, using their momentum and my horns to perform a somersault over my back and land behind me.
Fresco depicting the audience at Knossos (Image: Courtesy Micki Pistorius)
The watching crowd roar in approval and clap their hands, for this is a public display. Waving at friends in the crowd, the youths gasp for breath, jogging this way and that as mild winds off the Aegean Sea ruffle their hair. It is their custom, this bull-leaping, in which I am forced to participate. The athletes are all young, each of them at the boundary between child and adult, for this is a rite of passage essential to community life. Both male and female wear loincloths, their hair knotted and curled upon their crowns,…
