they're trying to retcon the original labyrinth. You know, the one named after the labrys, two-headed Minoan axes.
Photographer: Sarah Scott (All other photos Wikimedia Commons)
Here's a piece of the floor pattern in part of the Bronze Age palace of Knossos (c. 1700-1600BCE) on which the legend is based.
A few more fragments. As you see, this was a decorative repeating pattern that became the meander in classical decoration, later seen on Greek vases and Roman mosaics. (And yes, a version of it has been adapted by some assholes, but that's not the fault of the Minoans or any other world cultures that came up with variants of it.}
Interestingly, there's Minoan frescoes at Tell el'Daba, site of a former trading port on the Nile Delta in Egypt, dated perhaps a few centuries later (scholars are still arguing) — almost certainly from a quarter where Minoan merchants were living:
This one combines multiple motifs seen in different frescoes at Knossos, bull dancers and Minoan rosettes and another version of the labyrinth/meander— again, it's more decorative than a literal maze meant to trap people.
Sir Arthur Evans himself wrote of the complex floor plan of the palace: ''I see no reason for not thinking that the mysterious complication of passages is the Labyrinth." (From: Labyrinth: Knossos, Myth, and Reality, website for a recent exhibition at the Ashmoleon Museum.
Other scholars,picking up on his point, have argued that this building was indeed so complex and advanced — it had passive solar heated water tanks, indoor plumbing, light wells, and sliding panels to open and close antechambers, and it was multiple stories at a time when pre-Greeks were living in one-room huts — that visitors would've been overwhelmed....amazed, so to speak. And that's the source of the legend.
Maybe. We can't interview them to confirm.
What we do know is that there was a major systemic collapse between the Minoans and classical Greek period, even more drastic than that between the collapse of Roman dominance of Europe and the Renaissance. The Minoan writing was completely lost, as were most of its technologies and culture.
The stories that come down to are told by mainland Greeks over a thousand years later who were not themselves descendants of the Minoans, although at the height of their power, the Minoans may have conquered (or colonized?) the shores of southeast Greece. Knossos is on the island of Crete, 400km away from Athens across the Aegean Sea.
And despite the legend, we can't even be sure Athens was part of the Minoan empire. If I'm remembering correctly, Athens was just a small collection of huts during Knossos' heyday, not the major city-state it became in the classical period. Local tradition may have retconned its folk hero Theseus, its Superman, back to the time of the Minoans to explain their decline.
So the idea of the labyrinth-as-dungeon really only developed after the people who supposedly built it were long gone.
In the classical period, Greeks recolonized Knossos (whence the name), and here's their version of a drachma, the equivalent of Athens' owl-coin.
Romans loved the story too.
Here's Theseus and the Minotaur on a floor mosaic in Pompeii.
Here's one from a Roman villa in Austria.
And no, I haven't addressed the original question of whether the labyrinth has only one path, for the simple reason that it wasn't important to the story.
It's one of those nitpicky modern questions that could only exist after dictionaries were invented, for languages have accumulated such large vocabularies we look for ways to distinguish different words. It arises from a modern view of storytelling that demands consistency, continuity, and detail of a kind which wasn't important back then. For them, storytelling was more like fanart: interpretation and elaboration, including novel ways of tackling familiar material, were part of the fun.
I suspect that this "a labyrinth has one path" idea comes from some 20th century scholar who had a brainwave one day, looking at those Greek and Roman designs — hey, wait a minute, there's no branches! But that was a descriptive, not a prescriptive observation. We frequently run into trouble, both in scholarship and in everyday life, mistaking one for the other.
The observayion doesn't work for the original Minoan frescoes, because they were painted before the myth of the Minotaur arose, and serve a different purpose. They're not dungeon-mazes, they're decorations, so they don't work very well as maps. And again, Evans' observation about the Palace of Knossos being labyrinth-like is descriptive.
If you want to treat the myth literally, you might say the Greek and Roman style labyrinths are so complex that anyone navigating them to the center and back would likely get turned around without help, especially having to stop off and fight a monster in the dark.
But treating myths literally makes me grumpy. It's like retroactively imposing modern Trek or Who canon onto the old stuff that was written before those story elements were invented. You lose the original story. No bueno.