Crete (familiar from the myth of Theseus and the Minotaur), who is priestess of the Earth Goddess and-after the death of her mother Pasiphae-the last Matriarch-Queen of Crete. 466), Brindel exploits an ancient tale to probe the warring ''male'' and ''female'' impulses which shaped the character of Western religion, and to speculate about the last days of the female theocracies. In doing so, she offers a new insights into the age old struggles between men and women.Like Faye Levine (Solomon and Sheba, p. As in her earlier novel, Ariadne, June Brindle breathes new life and meaning into the familiar Greek myths, reinterpreting them from a feminine perspective. But stories filter back to the women of Thesus' heroics- the rape and murder of priestesses, the destruction of shrines and Assia, Phaedra's closest companion, finds herself inexorably drawn into the desperate struggle against Thesus and the militaristic new order that he represents. By claiming Phaedra, he will control both Crete and the worship of the Goddess, control to deliver the old religion its death blow. Theseus has no patience for worship of the Mother, who stands for peace and unity if there must be a deity, it should be male.

Phaedra is the child queen of Crete, the embodiment of the Great Goddess on Earth.

The characters are unforgettable: Phaedra, seeming fragile but with an iron core, drawing her strength from the earth itself: Aissa, the novel's narrator, destined to put aside her own happiness in order to play a crucial role in a conflict she once wanted no part of: Hippolytus, the son of Thesus, as devoted as peace as his father is to war and Thesus himself, the warrior hero whose every success brings him closer to madness and despair. Even when the Cretan warrior called my name and my mother fell to the ground weeping, and the men tore me out of her arms and carried me onto their ship- even then, when I looked toward shore and said goodbye forever to my mother and my home, then I thought 'at least I will see them, see how real Goddesses walk the earth.' Thus begins the stunning tale of Phaedra, in which delicate scenes of pastoral beauty and young love contrast with gut wrenching violence.

Even when I was a child in Troeze, I had heard of them and dreamed of their glorious lives. Then I saw them, close, the young queen, Ariadne, and this shining little princess, Phaedra. (Then I saw them, close, the young queen, Ariadne, and thi.)

Ariadne by June Rachuy Brindel