Danae

by Laura Gill

  “You were saying, about the witches?” I prompted. Somewhere in the back of my mind I remembered that the main course of meat and fish was to come, but the bread and cheese and olive paste proved irresistible.

  Eurymedon nodded. “The witches, the gray sisters, yes. They were haggard, with hair like fishermen’s nets, with skin the color of wood ashes, and they were blind. The best oracles are blind, I’ve heard, but these were beyond that. They had a single eyeball that they shared among them.” He glanced toward Diktys. “It’s the truth. And you’d think that would make them harmless, but everything in that landscape was deadly. Snakes and scorpions, and nomads in the desert who would as soon murder you as receive you according to the custom of Zeus of the Strangers. These three hags had nails longer than my hand, hard as horn, and jagged teeth. The proof of their deadly appetites hung throughout their hovel. Human arms and legs, and the gods only know what obscene feast was boiling in the cauldron on their hearth.

  “They kept urging me to come forward, to let them touch my face in the manner of blind people. Hermes had warned me not to trust them, and to be resourceful, because they were known to lie to those who sought their oracle. So I stayed by the entrance where the air was freshest, and I watched them carefully.” Eurymedon paused to quench his thirst from his cup, which the manservant quickly refilled. “When the moment was right, just as one sister passed the eye to another, that’s when I made my move. I took their eyeball. If they wanted their sight back, they would first have to reveal where I could find the Gorgons and kill one without being turned to stone.”

  A savory smell of meat announced the arrival of the main course: roast ox braised in coriander and fennel, grilled fish with boiled millet and mushrooms, and tender suckling pig glazed with honey, dishes intended for yesterday’s wedding feast. My eyes and nose were larger than my stomach. I would gorge myself tonight and regret it tomorrow. Once Zoe and the young man withdrew, I asked, “And what did those witches tell you?”

  “Lies, at first, when they weren’t pleading with me to return their eye, and threatening me with dire curses if I did not.” Eurymedon licked honey and pomegranate glaze from his fingers. “They told me the three Gorgons dwelled farther inland, in a deep cave near the place where the Titan Atlas bears on his shoulders the weight of the world.

  “I learned an interesting thing from them, that only the two immortal Gorgons can turn men to stone. Medusa, she’s something else entirely. Oh, it will still kill you to gaze into her eyes; the sight of her stops the heart. I found many such corpses in her lair, not of stone, but men whose bodies were untouched by decay, completely bloodless, staring ahead in abject terror. They might have been there a few days or perhaps years. I couldn’t say more. I was afraid to stop and examine them too closely lest I contract their fear and lose my nerve.” Eurymedon was breathing hard at the mere memory. “Even with Athena at my elbow, even with the weapons she gave me, it was an ordeal.”

  Andromeda picked up on his discomfort and moved to soothe him by sliding her arm through his and resting her head on his shoulder. Absently, Eurymedon patted her arm; the greater part of his attention remained on me. “The goddess loaned me the mirror shield and a sickle forged of a metal I have never seen before. Harder than bronze, but brighter than the face of the moon and much sharper than obsidian. And it wasn’t that mysterious gray metal the Hittites have. I saw a sample of that stuff in Joppa, and it was nothing like the sickle.”

  I forced myself to slow down with my supper. I had already eaten enough to nourish three women, whereas my companions had hardly touched their meals; that was sufficient to make any noblewoman feel self-conscious. “Forgive me,” I said, reaching for my napkin. “I don’t know what’s come over me this evening.”

  “Relief, I would think,” Diktys observed quietly.

  “Speaking of those who should be relieved, why do you leave your portion untouched?” I nodded toward his cup and platter. “Leukothea tells me you’re on the mend, but I don’t necessarily believe her.”

  Diktys toyed with the knife he used to cut meat. “The burden of kingship affords the opposite of relief.” He cracked a wan smile at his own anemic joke. “Go on, young man. Tell your mother how you killed the horrible Medusa and made your escape.”

  Eurymedon’s quirked eyebrow indicated shared knowledge, or perhaps a private jest. “You disbelieve me?”

  “I was not there,” Diktys answered, “but the way you tell of the event makes it seem less than heroic.”

  Sensing a prompt from me, my son continued with his tale. “I ventured into that cave where other men feared to go, remember that.” He looked to me. “I won’t lie, Mother, and tell you I wasn’t fearful. Even though I still had the helmet of invisibility, and knew the Gorgons could not have discovered me with their eyes, I descended further and further into the dark, not knowing whether I would ever see daylight again, half-convinced that those dreadful creatures could hear my every breath and smell my terror, as wild beasts do.”

  Then Eurymedon glared at his foster father. “I’ll say this again, I did exactly as Lady Athena instructed. A mortal man—even you, Diktys—wouldn’t dare challenge a Gorgon when she’s awake and dangerous.”

  Hoping to deflate whatever the conflict was between the two men, I interjected, “What did the goddess instruct you to do?”

  “To wait until Medusa and her sisters slept, so I did. That doesn’t mean the killing was easy,” Eurymedon answered defensively. “The Gorgons exude terror by their very being. Even while they slept, they seemed awake, and supernaturally aware. The two immortal ones had the bodies of snakes. I didn’t bother to look through the mirror shield to see their faces. Medusa was quite enough. She had a human shape, because she was once a woman, but her skin was gray and scaly, nothing but cracked planes, like the floor of the driest desert. Her hair...” He shuddered visibly. “Not exactly the writhing serpents of the stories, because then they would have bitten me, but greasy ropes very similar. Cold and awful to the touch. Whenever I reach into the kibisis the goddess gave me for the head, I’m always afraid I’ll bring it forth the wrong way around and be killed.” He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, seeking calm. “If my father weren’t the immortal Zeus, I’m sure I would never be able to survive Medusa’s awful shriek or the terrible compulsion to look at her.”

  I agreed with him. “But what of the Canaanite guards who were in the megaron with you? How could they stand it?”

  “Wax in the ears.” Eurymedon turned his attention to the grilled fish on his plate at Andromeda’s insistence; she watched him like an overbearing mother, shaking her head at his apparent lack of appetite. “And Paebel is deaf, of course. Not being able to hear Medusa’s shriek helps. Diktys wanted to smuggle someone into the palace to warn you but it was too risky.” He popped a morsel into his mouth, but continued to talk as he chewed. “I hope never to have to touch her head again, but I don’t know what danger threatens. Would you believe her flesh is so cold it hurts?”

  Thunderstruck by my son’s penultimate statement, Diktys and I both stared at him, but Diktys managed to speak first. “What excuse do you possibly have to unleash that abomination upon another unsuspecting victim?”

  Holding his chin high, Eurymedon swallowed. “There are certain enemies in Argos who would withhold my birthright.”

  Even before he said “Argos” I knew his intentions, and became determined to stop him. “No! I forbid you!”

  Eurymedon’s sudden coldness sent a shiver of dread racing down my spine. “I have no desire to turn my grandfather to stone. I want only to speak to him, to have him acknowledge my legitimacy and birthright, but to simply walk into Argos, my forty Canaanites against his hundreds of Argives? That’s foolishness.”

  Diktys took him to task. “So you would threaten Acrisius with the Gorgon’s head to force his hand?” He expelled a harsh breath. “I think you may have become a bit too comfortable wielding that thing.”

  I did not like the suggestion
underlying that criticism. Comfortable implied habitual use. “Eurymedon, tell me that yesterday was the one and only time you’ve used the Gorgon’s head.”

  His hesitation proved more eloquent than words. Finally, he said, “There was one other time, though others will tell you it was twice.” He drained his cup, and let his manservant refill it from the jug, before explaining, “Hermes let me continue to borrow the winged sandals to make my way home, but I lack his finesse in avoiding pitfalls. A storm sent me reeling hither and thither. I almost crashed into the ocean, almost lost Medusa’s head. At last, though, the squall abated, and I found myself on a foreign coast—all the way in Canaan, I later learned.

  “So I flew about, hoping to find some secluded inlet where I could find a supply of fresh water and catch some fish before trying again to get home. And there, chained to a rock, and almost submerged, I discovered a naked girl.” Eurymedon acknowledged Andromeda, and encouraged her with words and gestures to eat.

  “Now, the way my Canaanite followers tell the story, the sea god of Joppa, who we call Poseidon, but they call Yamm, demanded the sacrifice of the king’s daughter, and had sent a terrible sea monster to devour her. They say I rescued her by turning the monster to stone with Medusa’s head. No, the only monster was human, those who had chained my poor Andromeda to the rock and left her to die. I set her free, and found someone who spoke Hellene to translate what she told me.” Andromeda, I noticed, had recognized her name, and, guessing she was the subject of her husband’s tale, intently watched for our reactions.

  “Her father, who was the king of Joppa, had betrothed her to an old man who she loathed. And because she was the king’s only child, with her hand came the kingdom. She had been chained to the rock because she was disobedient. Her parents and betrothed had already beaten and starved her, and thought leaving her naked by the seashore would persuade her to change her opinion. What idiots!” Eurymedon clenched his meaty fist. “The tide would have drowned her within the hour had I not come. Of course, I celebrated my good fortune in having found her, because she was beautiful. She promised she would plight her troth to me, and make me a prince of Canaan.” He gazed fondly at his bride. “How could I refuse the plea of such a lovely supplicant?”

  “You took advantage?” I asked harshly.

  “I married her, didn’t I?” he shot back. “Then I took her home to make it right, even though she begged me not to. I told her not to be afraid, that my father was an immortal god. Ba’al, they call him in the Canaanite lands. The Storm God. She had seen me in the winged sandals, so she believed me, and when I arrived in Joppa I carried her and flew into the palace court to make certain I received an audience.

  “I told the king that the princess Ya’el was mine by right of rescue and maidenhead, and the superiority of my immortal blood, but he refused, that fool, and summoned instead her betrothed. Her own uncle, it turned out, an odious man called Phineus. They took her away immediately, my lovely princess, to marry her to Phineus. I would have tested the strength of Medusa’s head right then and there, had my bride not been in the way, and Lady Athena in her wisdom not appeared at my elbow in the guise of a native official to urge me to wait. So I withdrew, found safe haven in a royal storehouse, and prepared according to the goddess’s advice. That night, as Phineus feasted with his followers in anticipation of his wedding, I went into the hall and showed them the thing I carried in my pouch. Phineus and his companions perished. That’s how I learned about the terrible power of the Gorgon’s head.” He shook his head.

  “When the king and queen came and saw the devastation, when I told them what I could do, I demanded Ya’el’s hand again, and this time they dared not refuse. We would have left right after the ceremonies and come straight home, as my dear Andromeda had no more attachment to Joppa than I, but her parents forbade it. Andromeda was sole heiress to the kingdom. If she wished to leave, she must dedicate her firstborn son. That meant nine more months in Joppa at least, and who knew if our first child would even be a boy? I had to swear sacred oaths during the wedding rites that I would not resort to violence or trickery to escape the demand.” Eurymedon clenched his jaw as well as his fist. “I would have come alone, just enough to settle my debt with Polydektes, but Hermes had already taken back his winged sandals and my bride begged me not to leave her. She feared I might not return, and feared, too, that in my absence her parents might seize upon some mischief to keep us permanently separated. I believed her. The people of Joppa settle their quarrels with daggers and garrotes in the dark, and with poison. Hermes even showed me herbs to guard against such attempts on my life.”

  He paused then to moisten his throat with wine, and to reassure his wife, whose inability to comprehend the words behind his emphatic gestures and stern voice left her perpetually uncertain. Andromeda needed an anchor. The sooner she learned our language, the sooner she might find some security.

  In a lower, calmer tone, Eurymedon wrapped up his tale. “We miss Perses, of course, but Andromeda and I won’t be returning to Joppa. We’ve men and treasure enough to settle comfortably elsewhere.”

  Diktys harrumphed. Most of his meal sat untouched on his plate. “What a waste of a good opportunity, when in time you could have ruled over thousands as king of Joppa? It’s a prosperous city. Makednes stopped there several times on his voyages, and took me around to the various markets and temples.”

  “I don’t care for the Canaanite lands, or the court of Joppa. Too many sycophants, and strange customs and gods. My kingdom lies elsewhere.” Eurymedon paused. “I’ve no ambitions on Seriphos, Diktys. Argos is mine by right.”

  Though I had heard him say that before, his declaration horrified me. Had he not heard my objections? Had he learned nothing from me or Diktys during his childhood? “If your aim is to murder Acrisius and fulfill the prophecy, I forbid it. The Erinyes would hound you for the crime of killing your grandfather.”

  Eurymedon was shaking his head and gesturing throughout this lecture. “I’ve told you before, I simply want an audience with him, so he can see what a splendid grandson he has. The male heir he always wanted. Does he really want his throne to go to Proitus and Megapenthes?”

  Over a dessert course of melons and cakes, which I was too stuffed to enjoy properly, Eurymedon regaled us with tales of the Canaanite court.

  The hour grew late, and Eurymedon and his wife excused themselves. Lingering a moment, Eurymedon took me aside. “Diktys has missed you terribly. Promise me, whatever he might ask you, say yes.”

  I did not wait to be asked, but went straight to Diktys and told him what Eurymedon had said. “What does he mean, say yes to whatever you ask?” Though I already had some idea, I wanted to be absolutely certain.

  Diktys, who had remained seated while I escorted my son and daughter-in-law out, drew a heavy sigh. “He means well, but when it comes to us he’s never learned to mind his own business. Come.” He gestured with a thrust of his chin to the seat I had just vacated. “Sit. Let me explain everything in my own way.

  “I’m sure Leukothea’s told you I will recover. There was a skirmish in the mountains. I was set upon by Thessalians, my brother’s elite brutes. Hit by an arrow in the shoulder—oh, that’s healed now. When I went down, they kicked me in the ribs and stomach, and I thought I was as good as finished when my men came to my rescue, killed some of the Thessalians and scattered the rest. The rain and mist that day helped disguise my escape.

  “I spent weeks recovering in abandoned mines and cave sanctuaries, and every day, every hour underground I kept expecting Hermes to fetch me to the river Styx.” His voice grew strained, his gaze faraway. “All that moving around did not help my recovery, and neither did all the worrying that my brother’s scouts would discover my hiding place. I sent messages to my followers that I was not dead, and dispatched Molugros to Pelargos, but by then it was too late. Deiphontes had taken captives and started executing them, and burned the village.” He grimaced, brought a hand to his chest; it might have been p
hysical pain as surely as it was an agony of the spirit. “So I sent Molugros and his men to guard the sanctuary in Ganema.”

  “Has anyone from Pelargos survived? Polydektes told me next to nothing,” I said. “I think it pleased him to keep me guessing.” This was not a subject I necessarily wanted to discuss just then, but something had to be said. People had suffered and died on my behalf. I could not let Diktys think the sacrifice meant nothing to me.

  “Some were killed in the violence when Pelargos was destroyed, or they have been scattered throughout the island. Some were captured and sold as slaves, and I had my agents search for them throughout the winter. Only now have I been able to liberate some of them.” Diktys’s eyes narrowed. “Imagine my shock when I learned my brother was taking an Argive queen. What were you thinking, Dorea?”

  So we came back around to the subject. “What do you mean? I told you last night what the circumstances were.”

  He reached for the knife and twirled the point against the surface of the table. “Yet you came willingly out of sanctuary and submitted. Molugros told me. I heard you wove Polydektes a cloak for a wedding present.”

  I watched the knife bore a hole into the precious cedar wood. “You’re ruining the table.” He contemplated the minor damage he had done, but continued, anyway. “Yes, I wove him a wedding present. A cloak of malice, woven with curses and ill intentions. Purple and red for blood. Black for the depth of deceit and hatred I had for him. Gold for his grandiose delusions. Jealous?” I paused to whisk the knife away from Diktys. “What did you expect me to do? Cover my eyes for shame and despair that the wicked, lecherous king of Seriphos was about to ravish me? What good would that have done? I’m a practical woman. So let me tell you what I did instead.

  “I complied. I made myself pretty with clothes and jewels, and set out to become the kindest, most dutiful, most attentive queen any king of Seriphos had ever had. I smothered Polydektes with solicitousness. Did he want wine? Did his chilblains trouble him? Was there enough salt in his meat? Was that a spot of grease on his tunic? Who was looking after the children? What did the concubines do all day? Where was my seal and key to the storerooms so I could make sure his officials weren’t swindling him?” I ticked the various measures off on my fingers. “Had Eurymedon not come yesterday, I would have driven Polydektes to an early grave before the year was out.”