*

Rupert’s story is a traditional retelling of the Icarus myth . . . and a damn good one! The character of Daedalus shines here. He’s nuanced, responsible, mature, and caring—not only for Icarus, but for a young and curious Ariadne, and for a child Minotaur who seems to truly enjoy the short, restricted life he’s able to live in the labyrinth (even displaying a talent for painting). This is a truly beautiful take on the myth.

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*

Going in Circles

by Rupert McTaggart Brackenbury

*

The bull’s hide is white as a breaking wave, it’s horns mother of pearl. Its muscles flex as it paces the enclosure, and Daedalus carefully marks them on his sketch. The engineer has never cared much for animals but he has to admit; it’s beautiful. He wonders if gods feel the same pride in their creations as he does, if so it’s not hard to understand why Poseidon wanted this bull back.

The engineer finishes his sketch and brings out his earlier work. More scrolls, each a detailed anatomy of a heifer. He compares them one by one to the sketch he’s just finished, taking careful note of their measurements and the weight they need to support. He sketches in rough ideas for bracing & articulation.

At the edge of hearing his son plays at heroics. Daedalus listens and smiles as Icarus calls out the names of the monsters he’s defeating with his wooden sword. Things should be better. If Daedalus hadn’t had that misunderstanding with his nephew maybe they would be better. They’d certainly still be in Athens and Icarus would be attending the best possible schools instead of finding new trouble every day.

Daedalus hopes the boy’s too young to have questions about what his father is building. One day he’ll have to explain it to him, but not today.

“Daddy!”

Daedalus claws his focus back to the problem at hand and tries to shut out the context. He jots down notes in the margins of his sketches:  

What will cow suit be made of?
articulated wooden frame
handles + peddles to allow movement of legs
re-enforce hips (iron?)
Need at least 1 full cow hide – Does bull have a colour preference?
Under hide: stuffing to feel like flesh- wool? Or Straw?
Will padding ensure queen’s safety?
Ensure she can breathe
How to manage safety issues of bull phallus?

He winces in disgust.  

Yesterday Queen Pasiphae summoned him to her private rooms. It was inappropriate but he couldn’t argue. A terrified maid admitted him to the queen’s bed chamber and scurried away. The queen sat cross-legged on the bed still in her night clothes, traces of dry mud on her feet and legs. Pasiphae seemed hysterical, her normally brown eyes, a study of polite disinterest, were ultramarine and intensely wide. She invited him to sit alongside her but instead he positioned a chair close to the door to defend himself from accusations.

“Daddy!”

The queen spoke breathlessly about the beauty of Poseidon’s bull, explaining in obscene detail what she desired the creature to do to her and how, despite her efforts, it couldn’t be convinced to oblige.

Eventually Pasiphae demanded the engineer build a facade for her, a cow form she could hide inside, to seduce the bull.

Throughout her monologue Daedalus clenched his jaw and nodded politely, determined not to leak any thought or judgement. The queen has the power to end his life and there‘s clearly something deeply wrong with her. A madness, either organic or divine, has taken hold. Daedalus considered going straight to the king, but how would one even raise such a matter? Minos is certainly not one for delicate conversation.

On the other hand, the idea of building a suit that allows a human woman to occupy the life and body of a cow? One convincing enough to fool a bull? It was an interesting challenge. More interesting than building another mill.

“Daddy! Lookit me!”

The king’s stance had always been clear, Daedalus serves at the whim of the royal family. He’s valued servant, perhaps even favorite, but still a servant. In this he had no freedom and so, if nothing else, no culpability.

“Daddy! Da-deeeee!”

“’Rus I’m busy! We’ll play later!”

“Da-deeeee! Daddy look!”

Daedalus finally looks up from his notes to see Icarus straddling the fence, one leg outside, the other in the bull’s enclosure. The child unconvincingly mimes reigning a horse, keeping hold of the fence with his feet.

“’Rus get down!”

“I ona horse!”

“I’m looking ‘Rus! Now get down form there before you fall! That’s not safe!”

“I don’t fall!” the boy sounds cross but his smile quickly returns. ‘Rus’s enthusiasm is so pure, he’s barely a boy, wants only his father’s attention. Daedalus speaks calmly as he rises.

“That’s dangerous ‘Rus! The Bull isn’t safe!”

“Play with me!”

Daedalus rises. The boy leans further back and further back until his feet slip and he topples into the enclosure, striking the back of his head on a rock.

Icarus sits in the dirt screaming a strange yodelling sob. Tears run down his cheeks and blood runs down his neck. The boy makes no attempt to move, just screams louder and louder as the bull swivels it’s ears, then, slowly, it’s massive horns towards the noise.

“For gods’ sake ‘Rus I just told you…!” But Daedalus rage is snuffed out by the realisation his child’s alone with the animal. He runs to the fence, leans over, grasps the boy’s tiny hand. In a quick, graceless jerk he pulls the boy up and over to safety, not bothering to be gentle. Only when the boy is safe in his father’s lap, clutching his wrenched elbow, does Daedalus realise the bull hasn’t moved at all. It remains in the far corner, disinterested in anything but its hay.

Daedalus sits on the earth staunching the wound on Icarus’s head with his hand. The boy feels so small. “It’s OK. It’s OK my love. It’s just a little cut. How’s your arm?”

“…hurts.” the boy whispers.

Guilt consumes Daedalus as panic fades. “You got a fright, didn’t you? It’s ok. I love you. I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. That won’t happen again I promise.”

When the crying eventually stops the boy’s breath is still punctuated by gasps. “Come on, I’ll take you back to the palace, let me just grab our stuff” Icarus gives his father a small smile or perhaps a grimace. Daedalus gingerly puts the boy down on his feet and rushes to save his sketches form the wind.

As he picks up the papers he notices smears of red across his work. His hands are still bright with his son’s blood. He sighs in frustration, and wipes the mess on his tunic.

*

It had been a long day and now, late afternoon, the sun is overbearing. Heat pressures them from above and below, radiating from the courtyard as much as the sky. The capital grows quiet, pausing until evening can offer some relief.

Daedalus collapses onto a step and holds out an apple. He calls to the boy and watches him stumble the full length of the yard to finally chomp noisily on the fruit. His little hands grasp the engineer’s fingers for support. The boy has been locked in this circular courtyard, naked, with nothing but a straw bed. He smells of sweat, hay and manure. After a day in his company so does Daedalus. The engineer runs a thumb over one of the boy’s immature horns. It feels like the courtyard stone; smooth and warm but ungiving. The boy coos endearingly as he savours the apple.

What frustrates Daedalus most, is that this outcome had been so predictable. He prides himself on his planning & ingenuity. But he’d indulged his curiosity over common sense and now all these lives, including his own, were thrown into chaos. He may not have set these events in motion but he’d also done nothing to stop them.

The priests confirmed his suspicion that the queen had been cursed by Poseiden as part of a plan to punish and humiliate her husband. Daedalus had also been correct that, as a servant, he wasn’t responsible for following the queen’s orders. Yet, in private, King Minos seethes and whether he blames himself, his wife, Poseidon or Daedalus the result is the same: An unfocused rage that could prove fatal if not well managed. Daedalus is probably too useful to banish or kill, but that leaves the king a wide margin to act and he’s not above punishing a son for the mistakes of the father.

As soon as Pasiphae had given birth she was secluded away to recover (though Daedalus wonders if she will ever truly recover from such cruelty). Her child was presented to the king who, repulsed, immediately ordered it slaughtered. At that point Daedalus took a calculated risk and stood in front of the spears, putting on a show of obsequiousness and religious terror.  

“Your majesty! I implore you! We can’t know the intent of the gods! If its father is the bull of Poseidon then maybe this creature carries blood as divine as your own! It may be blessed so that any who do it harm are cursed! Please! Let me investigate before you chose a course of action that cannot be reversed. Let me redeem myself in your eyes. I can’t help but feel shame that I might be partially responsible for following the letter of my contract to you rather than the spirit.” (That last part at least was true.)

Minos wasn’t ready to trust Daedalus again, so ordered every physician, priest, oracle and augur on Crete to inspect the calf and provide their opinion. Perhaps thinking it was a suitable punishment, Minos gave Daedalus the tedious role of compiling the results and reporting back. In actuality this meant the engineer was the final arbiter of truth. In trying to punish him, Minos had handed Daedalus exactly what he wanted.

Most of the experts proclaimed their opinion and left quickly in varying combinations of disgust and fear. A few performed some ceremony or prayer. None would go near the child let alone touch him.  At a week old he’s enormous for a baby and dangerously strong, yet for a calf he would be considered sickly.

Icarus has been permitted to observe. Daedalus does his best to involve him in proceedings, to teach him something but ‘Rus is obstinate, merely complaining about wanting play outside despite Daedalus assuring him there will be time for that tomorrow.

Ariadne, the King’s daughter, was expressly forbidden from ever meeting her brother and so arrived in the courtyard as soon as the last expert left. She’s a year or two older than ‘Rus and possesses a similar fearlessness Daedalus finds endearing. Now the four of them are alone, Icarus, with usual fearlessness comes forward to pat the calf’s head.

Whispering cautiously, Ariadne asks “What does he feel like ‘Rus?”

“He’s soft!” says Icarus loudly “His hair’s soft!”

The little boy-calf twists around to see who’s talking and almost falls. He grips tighter on Daedalus’, and smiles adoringly at the older boy.

“Daddy, can I hug the baby?”

“I don’t know ‘Rus he seems safe but…”

Before Daedalus can consider the request ‘Rus declares “I know he’s safe!” and violently squeezes the smaller boy who shrieks in response. Daedalus moves to separate them but stops when he realises it’s a squeal of glee not violence. ‘Rus lets go and the little boy stumbles but doesn’t seem concerned, he merely gathers his balance and returns to the apple. Ariadne comes closer and cautiously strokes the calf’s hair.

“He is soft…What’s his name?”

“He doesn’t have one Princess; your father might not give him one.”

“He has to have a name, everyone has a name!”

Icarus delicately traces a white patch on the calf’s brow with his index finger. “It’s like a star…”

“We should call him Asterion then!” suggests Ariadne  

“Your father might not like that Princess, it was your grandfather’s name.”

“I know that! It’s a family name! For family!”

Daedalus quietly appreciates how much Minos would hate it if he ever found out. “OK princess, then that’s his name; Asterion. But don’t tell your father, he didn’t want you to meet him so he definitely won’t want to know you’ve named him.”

The four bask in the sun for a long minute. ‘Rus and Ariadne fuss over Asterion as he hungrily eats the core and stem of the apple.

“What’s going to happen to him?” Ariadne eventually asks.

Daedalus doesn’t know how to explain to these children the final consensus the experts have reached. They agree the punishment was the child’s conception and birth so there’s no requirement for it to be kept alive. Two disagreements remain: Firstly, whether he should be sacrificed to Poseidon or quietly killed and buried in an unmarked grave. Secondly, whether the queen should meet the same fate.

“I think…He might have to go away.”

“Where?”

“A long way away. Somewhere no one will see him again”

“Why?”

“Well… Some of the men today think he should be given back to the gods because your father didn’t make the right sacrifice. Some think he’s dangerous or embarrassing or scary. Some just think your father won’t want the burden of caring for him.”

Icarus interjects too loudly “Daddy I don’t want the baby to go away! I want him to stay here forever! He’s not scary!”

“No, he isn’t is he? Not if you spend any time with him.”

“Mister Daedalus? Can’t we keep him here? He’s not hurting anyone.”

Daedalus looks between the three small faces. Ariadne and ‘Rus look deeply concerned. Asterion, oblivious, merely smiles at him with his broad flat teeth, an unmistakably human gesture.  

Daedalus pulls Icarus and the calf onto his lap and hugs them both. There’s still time for him to make amends for how he hurt the queen, he’ll ignore the experts. He’ll tell the king that this boy must be kept safe, no matter the cost.

*

Daedalus’s knees hurt on the tiled floor, his back aches but the ropes burn his wrists as he tries to find comfort. It reminds him of his last day in Athens except he was less scared then, he had less to lose.

The old engineer twists to see Icarus, bound identically but also gagged. Freshly dried blood trails from the boy’s swollen temple to the neck of his reddened tunic, he sways, possibly concussed. Daedalus wants only, desperately, to aid his son but can’t reach him. The old man clamps down on his panic, clenches his jaw, all he can do for ‘Rus now is make a plan, find a way out.

“You’re worried about your son?” The king spoke quietly, forcing the crowd around them into silence. “Then you understand my position. Where’s my daughter?” Minos clenches a dagger in his hand, knuckles white.

“Please your majesty, I don’t know…”

Minos clutches Icarus by the shoulder, pressing the tip of the blade firmly to the boy’s chest. ’Rus struggles feebly.

“Please! I don’t know where she is but I’ll tell you everything I know!”

The King releases ‘Rus with a petty shove. “Go on.”

“Ariadne came to see me two nights ago. She said she’d found an ally in one of the Athenians destined for the labyrinth, he claimed he was Theseus, prince of Athens, son of your hated enemy…”

“Was he?”

“I can’t be sure, she certainly believed him. She wanted me to provide ‘Theseus’ with a way to survive the labyrinth.”

“She wanted him to defeat the bull?”

“No. In fact…” Daedalus takes a slow deep breath, perhaps this is their one path through. “She was fond of the bull, she thought of him as a brother. She told me she planned to free him and escape to Athens, she even offered to take us with her. Icarus and me.”

Minos walks back to his throne, the crowd parting before him, leaving a short corridor between the king and his prisoners. When he speaks again it’s with a perceptible tremor of rage.

“So, she’d been visiting the creature for some time?”

“Almost since his birth. She was always contrary.”

“And the creature was not…violent towards her?”

Daedalus commits to this path, it requires dangerous honesty, but it’s the only way out he can see. “No, your majesty. In fact, the creature wasn’t dangerous at all. He may have appeared ferocious but, in truth he showed no interest in violence, not even in eating meat.”

“But the oracles…?”

“I… misrepresented their advice. I told you they’d advised to keep him safe. That caring for him was your curse to bear but there was no evidence for that. I was soft hearted, I felt responsible and he was only a child. I couldn’t allow him to be harmed. I concocted the story that he was dangerous to keep him safe. I built the labyrinth to protect him, not us. I’d hoped, in fact, to provide him with a comfortable life.

“I visited him daily, as did you daughter. He was incapable of speech, nor could he ever read or write, but he was kind, enthusiastic, he showed an appreciation for music and a talent for painting…” Daedalus trailed off, thinking of Asterion’s rib crushing hugs, his contagious smile, the way he closed his eyes and swayed his massive horns as ‘Rus’s played his pipes and Ariadne her lyre. The engineer’s throat ached as he fought back the tears, he forced his focus onto Icarus’s laboured breath, this was the son who still needed him.

“What of the dead Athenians?”

“I’d done too good a job convincing you he was a monster. I didn’t expect you to leverage your burden for revenge, but by then I couldn’t reveal the truth, nor could I risk the Athenians finding out. I retrofitted the labyrinth with traps to kill the Athenians long before they got to the bull.”

“So you killed those men and women?”

“Yes, I suppose so, in horrific ways, not with my hands but with machines I built. Devices designed to make it look as though they’d been torn apart and devoured. All to protect that poor boy.”

“It was never a ‘boy’ tinkerer, it wasn’t even an animal. It was a monster.”

The old man’s voice grows defiant, he locks eyes with the king. “As the person who knew him best, I disagree. He was neither animal or man but the best of both. He was innocent like a beast, never vindictive or cruel. But like a man he was curious, patient, generous…” Daedalus can’t help himself, his eyes began to well. Fine. Let Minos see. let him think Daedalus weak, it can only help the plan. “…now the poor boy is dead. This ‘Theseus’ killed him and took your daughter, all because of my lies.”

Minos was quiet for a long moment, staring at the floor, anxiously stroking his beard. He seemed genuinely moved by his servant’s emotion. Perhaps Daedalus had underestimated him? He had to push the king further into his rage.

“Your daughter knew all this I’m afraid. She saw the bull as a member of her family, she even named him.” Minos lifted his head. “She called him Asterion, after your father.”

Minos’s eyes grew dark. He asked quietly “How did you get in and out of the maze? How did Theseus escape?”

He had taken the bait.

“I built a passage from my studio to the centre. It’s hidden behind a bookshelf. Just inside the passage is a crank handle that disables the traps. That’s how Theseus could escape once he had reached the centre.”

Minos makes eye contact with a soldier in the crowd who quickly leaves to secure the passage. No doubt the king thinks he’s being subtle.

“Perhaps my daughter fooled us both? Perhaps she didn’t care for the beast at all.”

“Maybe. Maybe she’s as much a victim of Theseus as we are.”

“All the same: It’s clear you cared a great deal for the beast. You’d have to, to make a fool of your king. You convinced me to build a home for my greatest shame when I wanted to throw its ashes in the sea.” The king looked to his guards. “Make sure the labyrinth and its traps are in full working order. Put the engineer in there and seal it shut.”

Daedalus supresses a smile, instead he makes sure the king’s decision includes Icarus. “Your majesty! No! Please! I accept my fate but my son is faultless! Please! I beg of you…”

Minos smirks pretending the idea was his “No! Perhaps we’ve both lost children in the Labyrinth today, but I lost a member of my royal house while you only lost a beast. Hopefully this will restore the balance.”

Father and son are silent as they dragged them away: Icarus still dazed and Daedalus thanking Athena his plan had worked, he would save at least one of his sons.

*

As soon as Icarus can walk Daedalus grips him tightly by the wrist and, without a word, pulls him up from the floor and deeper into the maze. It’s near dark but enough light filters from above to ensure they can make their way without incident, even though the tunnels are low enough even the old engineer has to stoop.

“Dad!”

They trace a broken spiral deeper and deeper into the maze. At each fork Daedalus stops, closes his eyes against distraction and runs his hands along the low ceiling, feeling for some invisible mark in the stone. Delicately he examines his findings with his finger-tips, occasionally eliciting a small ‘click’ followed by a distant grinding of stone. Then, still silent, he drags Icarus forward again down another curved tunnel.  

“Dad! Look at me!”

Daedalus had prepared for this of course, he hoped Minos would react this way He just had to ensure the king thought it was his own idea.

“Dad! Stop!” Icarus snatches his hand back.

‘’Rus! We need to get to the center!”

“What‘s happening!?”

“I have a plan, a way out, but I can’t guarantee Minos won’t send soldiers after us. I need you to trust me…”

Icarus is an angry silhouette. “I’m not going any further…”

“We have to…!”

Icarus holds his palm up and asserts “I’m not going any further with you dragging me.”

“Alright! Just stay close behind me. I’ll explain.” Daedalus turns & begins to head further down.

At the next fork Daedalus runs his hands over the stone again. Icarus wanders barely an arm’s length further on. Daedalus screams “No!” snatching the boy back by the neck of his tunic as iron jaws clamp together where he had just stood.

“I told you to stay behind me!” Exasperated Daedalus takes the young man’s hand and places it, palm up on the ceiling.  “Here.”

Icarus, momentarily humbled, feels a small relief in the rocks “Is that an upsilon?”

“Bull’s head.”

It suddenly comes into focus; the broken circle is a pair of horns and below them the ears, eyes and finally mouth. The head’s positioned so the horns point right, up an increasingly dark and claustrophobic passage. The mouth faces left, downthe brighter, wider corridor where ‘Rus almost died.

Daedalus explains “Only three of us knew Asterion wasn’t a monster, that he was safe to approach. All others would want to avoid him. So the key to the maze is the bull’s horns, go towards them, go where they point, you’ll always be safe, the opposite way anyone who didn’t know the truth would choose to go!” Daedalus sounds proud. “I wanted to make sure that even if I wasn’t here to lead you, you’d be safe if Minos turned on us.”

Daedalus follows the horns up the dark path but Icarus holds back. “Wait, how would I know what to do?”

“The little etchings are on every fork in the path! Come on!”

Icarus begrudgingly follows around a sharp curve where the path begins to widen and brighten. It feels like they’re heading back up.

“So I’d have to find a clue I had no reason to know existed, understand what it represents, then follow the same logic you did…”

“It’s obvious!”

“Why not go the way of the Bull’s mouth? Towards where we fed him?”

“I see your point but…”

“…and there were dozens of Athenians wandering around here, what was stopping them wandering into the wrong place?”

“Some of the etchings turn off the traps when you touch them. If you just found the path by accident, that wouldn’t be enough.”

“Dad. I would’ve been killed!”

“I was trying to protect you! Show a little gratitude. I risked everything for you!”

Rus explodes “I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for your plans! Even if I got to Asterion’s room, what then?”

“I left instructions to get free!”

“Was that your plan as well!? That I’d build a device to, what!? Fly away!?”

“Yes! Exactly that!”

They come to a grate in the ceiling, their first glimpse of the sky in the labyrinth. Icarus pauses in the sun, his eyes tightly shut against the light. Icarus takes a deep breath; the warmth relaxing him. He opens his eyes, still squinting. and states calmly “I wouldn’t have figured it out.”

“You’re a smart boy…”

“Dad. Please. I’m not an idiot, but I’m not you. I couldn’t build this.” He gestures globally “I wouldn’t have figured it out.”

Both men know this argument well, they’ve repeated it often enough. They know where it goes from here: If Icarus is right, the old man hasn’t protected his son, he isn’t the perfect father he so wants to be. Then what had been the point of anything? No, Daedalus won’t allow himself these feelings. He clamps down his doubt. This is a distraction. Maybe later he’d handle it. Later he’ll apologise and make it right but now it serves no purpose.  

Daedalus merely turns away and answers quietly “Come on, we’re almost there.”

*

The heavy iron door to the centre chamber was unlocked with another puzzle, the logic of which ‘Rus found baffling. Once inside, Asterion’s chamber was remarkably comfortable. Though he didn’t realise it the king had spared no expense on furnishings or construction.  

The red brick chamber described a tight ring around an uncovered circular courtyard, the innermost centre of the maze. The yard’s littered with toys, games and automata; distractions built to entertain & teach the child in his family’s absence. To either side of the courtyard small arches access the rooms around them. On the far side of the courtyard a hatch in the floor access the passage to Daedalus’s studio. Near the eastern arch sits a reddish-brown puddle of congealed blood, one edge smeared out across the courtyard, flies attending the thicker clots, until it ends abruptly under the studio hatch. Both stare at the blood for a long time, remembering how Theseus emerged from the passageway dragging Asterion’s corpse. Still neither of them speaks. The door they entered through swings decisively shut and both jump, turning to see Asterion’s great work.

Across the wall and the door, the bull has painted a huge landscape of fields bordered above by the sea and above that by the sky. A memory of the view from Daedalus’s window, something the bull had only seen the half dozen times Daedalus was willing to take the risk. The style is naive and the colours peculiar. The red sunset and the green fields are shades of muted brown, while the blue sea and yellow flowers are unnaturally bright. Above flies an aviary of birds in the same odd palette. Most would have been seen flying over the labyrinth, a few were from the stories they read him.

It transpires Daedalus built their means of escape many years before: Two pairs of wings, like an eagle in form but like the sails of a great ship in size. Each had to be inspected, feather by motely feather, and where they’d been damaged (folded imperfectly into storage or nibbled by mice) the feathers have to be reaffixed with candle wax and brushed smooth. The work takes time and is performed in silence until it grows dark and the tension becomes too much for ‘Rus. “These are amazing Dad! Where did you get all the feathers?”

Daedalus remains stern. “Five years of palace meals – Ducks, chickens, geese, anything the kitchen plucked was saved for me.”  

Daedalus lights torches and they fall into silence again as they continue their work. Daedalus finally speaks as he seals the last feather with wax. “’Rus…I’m sorry.”

“Dad…it’s alright I…”

“No. Please… I want you to know I tried to do what was right. I tried to give you the best life I could. This is all my fault; ending up on this island, Asterion’s birth, his death, this maze, whatever’s happened to Ariadne…it’s all me…” The old man covers his eyes but his son can still see tears roll down his cheeks and disappear into his grey beard.

“Dad, it’s OK. You’re not responsible for fixing everything. You’re not responsible for fixing me.”

“Of course I am but I wasn’t up to the problem. I thought every time I fixed something would be the last time, but I always had to go back and fix something else… After this, I’ll be there for you. I promise. No more plans or schemes. Just us.”

Icarus crosses the room and awkwardly embraces his father. “Dad it’s ok…I won’t fight with you again.  We can make a new life now. Let’s make one where we’re better at this” he gestures between them.

Daedalus smiles, eyes still red. “I’d like that. More than anything.”

“How much longer for the wings?”

“They’re ready now.”

“Then show me how to use them!” Icarus laughs. “Let’s go!”  

“No. We should leave in the morning, I’ll explain how to use them then. Let’s get some rest now. Things will look better in the light of day.”

*

END

*

© 2018 Rupert McTaggart Brackenbury. The content of this article, except for quoted or linked source materials, is protected by copyright. Please contact the author for usage.

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