by John Hosh
The dripping Chloë retorted, “What are you?”
The tiny man was wearing garments that were different shades of green. He had a long-sleeved green shirt, green leggings, a long green jacket and green sandals. His hair was long and white. He had a neat white mustache and a neat white beard. He was wearing a green hat with a golden tassel. The tassel caused the hat to flop to the right side of the tiny man’s head. “I’m a gnome. My name is Wishyouwell. I am Wishyouwell the gnome. And who are you?”
Chloë dragged her fingers through her dripping hair. “I’m Chloë, daughter of Marcos. I’m a princess.” Chloë used her right thumb to press the water out of her eyebrows.
“Good morning, Chloë, daughter of Marcos. Here, let me make you dry.” Wishyouwell snapped his fingers. Chloë stopped dripping. She straightened her tunic. She made her dry hair sway.
“Chloë, the job of a gnome is to grant wishes. I grant wishes to those who fall into this well. I am granting to you three wishes.” The gnome held out his right hand. He had three raised fingers.
Chloë responded grumpily, “Is this some kind of joke?”
“It’s no joke. A being — very much like a god but friendlier — has given all gnomes the power to grant wishes. Tell me what would please you, and I will make it real if it is within my power.”
“I wish for as many wishes as I have hairs on my head.”
“Your wishes must follow some rules. Rule One is you cannot wish for more wishes.” Chloë put on a sad face. “There’s no use to pout. The rules are the rules. Don’t blame me. I didn’t make them. Don’t blame the messenger for his message. Rule Two is you cannot wish for powers or things that belong to the gods. For instance, you cannot make someone think better. You cannot make a mean person good. Most wishers ask for things like goats or puppies. And I beg you to be careful about how you state your wish. You must be precise if you want to avoid disappointment. You must say what you mean and mean what you say. And I am in no hurry. You do not have to make your wishes today. You may come back anytime. Call into the well for Wishyouwell, and I will make your wish come true if it is within my power. Do you have any questions?”
“May I wish for a new boat for my father?”
“A boat would make a fine wish if you supplied some details. You would have to say what kind of boat. You would have to say how big the boat should be and what kind of wood it would use. You should talk to your father before you wish for a boat.”
“I will talk to my father. I have much to do today. I should go.”
“Remember: I am Wishyouwell.” Wishyouwell turned. He shuffled away from the hole’s edge. The hole became dark.
In the western alley, several strides from the well, several girls squealed and laughed. Chloë whispered loudly, “Wishyouwell, wait.”
An instant later the hole in the wall gave light. With his lamp Wishyouwell shuffled to the hole’s edge. He sang, “Yes.”
“I want you to give big ears to Medusa. She should have ears that are pointed . . . like a bat’s, but bigger . . . like an donkey’s. Yes. I want Medusa to have big donkey-ears.”
“Are you speaking with reference to the Medusa who is Kalliopë’s third daughter?”
“Kalliopë’s daughter, yes. Hurry; they’re coming.”
“I can give her ears almost as tall as I am. Would that do?”
“Yes, yes, yes. Hurry!”
“As you wish.” Wishyouwell snapped his fingers. He turned.
From the western alley came squeals. A girl shouted, “Your ears!”
Chloë raced up the stairs. She hopped out of the well. She grabbed her pot and stood by the well on its east side.
Out of the western alley, three tanned, black-haired, barefoot girls in leather tunics were backing quickly toward the well. All three were younger than Chloë. Each was holding an empty water-pot in her arms.
Carrying a water-pot in her left hand, Medusa stepped quickly out of the western alley. Three summers older than Chloë, Medusa was taller, wider and thicker than Chloë. Barefoot, Medusa was dressed in a rust-colored leather tunic. Sticks were holding her long black hair on top of her head. She was wearing a necklace of polished wood beads that were each as big as a grape. Past the three girls who were ahead of her, Medusa hurried to the well’s rim. She set her pot beside the well. She leaned over the rim and looked down.
The stairs were gone. Looking up from the water was Medusa’s face. Square and brown, the face had dark eyes, one thick eyebrow from eye to eye, a prominent nose and thin lips. Poking up from Medusa’s head were tall, hairy ears. Medusa yelped.
Chloë peered into the well. Beside Medusa’s reflection, Chloë’s reflection looked up at Medusa. Medusa screamed.
Chapter 7 : Medusa
Medusa wrapped her arms around her head. She ran into the westward alley. The three girls who had been watching Medusa ran after her.
Chloë set Medusa’s pot aside. Chloë pulled the pail out of the well. She filled her pot. She put the pail onto the pail-rock. She put the muff on her head. She put the pot on the muff. She held the pot in place with her left hand. Smiling broadly she stepped gingerly down the steps toward the beach.
Chloë was two stair-steps from the entrance to her patio when the pot shot forward off her head. The steps cracked the pot into shards. The muff fell among the shards.
Chloë snarled, “Pixies!” She whirled round. She muttered, “Where are you?” She looked toward the well. She jumped to put her back against the west wall. She glanced toward the beach. “Come out! Come out, you pests!” Chloë jumped. She crouched against the east wall — the wall that shut in the house of Marcos. She studied the sky for a few moments. She stood. She shrugged.
Chloë picked up the muff and, under her tunic, stuck the muff on top of her left shoulder. She picked up the bigger pieces among the shards. She plodded up the slope toward the well. At the well she turned left and padded into the western alley. Not far along the alley, on Chloë’s left, was the house where Medusa lived. The excited chatter of women was coming from the house. Chloë stepped quickly past the house’s entrance.
One score of steps from where Medusa lived, Chloë halted. On her right was an entrance like the entrance to the house of Marcos. Chloë stepped over the sill.
Chloë was on a rectangular patio like the one at her house. In the center of the patio was a stone oven like the one at her house. Chloë walked to the oven’s south end. Chloë called, “Hi, Auntie Kalla.”
Kalla’s house was on the west side of the patio. Of mud-and-stone and painted white, the one-story house was like Chloë’s except that it faced east. Surrounding the house, its patio and its backyard was a white mud-and-stone wall that was higher than a man can reach and as thick as a goat is wide.
Kalla had seen almost one score and one-half of summers. She was neither taller nor shorter than most of the women on Sternon Island. She was robust and comely. Her black hair, which was draping far down her back, was tied behind her head. Dressed in leather, she was sitting on a rock. The rock was not far south of her house’s front doorway. Kalla was picking the grit from a big bowl of flour. She smiled broadly. “Hi, Sweetie,” Kalla said. “The girls are out back.”
Chloë blurted, “The water-pot broke.” She showed Kalla the shards.
“Throw the shards on the pile.”
Chloë walked to the northeast corner of the patio. She tossed the shards onto a pile of shards that was higher than her waist; then she approached Kalla. Chloë reported, “The pot jumped off my head. Pixies pushed it, I think. May I have another?”
“Of course. Take any one you want.”
North of the oven, against the wall that went round the patio, were scores of water-pots and other pots. Chloë did not immediately pick a pot. “I have a question,” Chloë said. She sat at Kalla’s left. “My father wishes he had a new boat. If you could have any wish, for what would you wish?”
“Let me think. I suppose I would wish for trees — all kinds
of trees, trees for making boats and trees to give us fruit. If we had more trees, we would have more food and more heat and more shade. Everything would be better if we had more trees.”
Stepping out of the house, two tanned, black-haired girls in long leather tunics walked barefoot toward Kalla. The girls called, “Hi, Chloë!”
“Hi, Mellissa. Hi, Clarissa.”
Mellissa was three summers older than Chloë. Clarissa was two summers older than Chloë. Both Mellissa and Clarissa were robust and comely. “We’ll fetch some water,” Clarissa stated.
Mellissa and Clarissa picked up one water-pot each from those beside the north wall. The girls took pot-muffs from a pot among the water-pots. They put the muffs into the handles of their pots. Holding the pots carefully, the girls quit the patio and turned eastward.
Chloë asked Kalla, “What else would you want if you could have some wishes?”
“Mellissa is old enough to have a husband. I would wish for her to be happy. I’ve been talking with Argon’s wife Iphigenia. Her stepson Nikostratos asked about Mellissa. I think Nikostratos would be a good husband.”
Out of the house waddled a black-haired infant of not yet two summers. Barefoot but draped in leather, the infant had her arms pointing toward the sky. She was babbling.
The infant was holding onto a girl who was several summers younger than Chloë. The black-haired girl was slim and pretty. She was wearing a long leather tunic. To the infant, the girl said, “Electra, it’s your cousin Chloë.” To Chloë, the girl called, “Hi, Chloë!”
Chloë replied, “Hi, Alcmenë! Hi, Electra!”
Against the house, on Alcmenë’s left, was a rectangular wall. Made of rocks, the wall was two steps long, one step wide and half a pace high. Draped over the low wall were goat hides. Alcmenë lifted Electra and put her within the wall.
Electra tried to crawl over the wall. She fell back. She burst into tears. Alcmenë went to Kalla. Alcmenë sat at her mother’s right.
A giggling, black-haired boy of three summers burst out of the house through the doorway that Alcmenë and Electra had just used. In a leather tunic the boy tottered eastward round the north side of Chloë. Chloë called, “Hi, Endymion! I’m Chloë.”
Endymion made a wide circle north behind the stone oven. Alcmenë jumped. She ran toward the patio’s south entrance. She caught Endymion when he was three paces from the alley. Endymion protested by bawling, but Alcmenë turned him toward the house. Endymion ran into the house.
From inside the house came the cry of a baby. Kalla ordered, “Alcmenë, bring Larissa. Make sure Endymion can’t get out.” Electra wailed. Alcmenë sighed loudly. Wringing her hands, the pretty girl dragged her feet across the patio and into the house.
Chloë asked, “Has Leucippus or Alcibiadës chosen a girl?”
“No,” Kalla said. “The boys want to leave. They say this island cannot hold any more people. We don’t have much wheat in the granaries. If the crops are bad next harvest, we will have some tough times. The boys say people will starve. The boys want to use the boats to make a raft. They say we have to go now. The old ones say we should stay. I don’t know.”
“My father is always grumbling about his boat.”
“I don’t know what we are going to do. Herodotus says the traders want more for a log than any man can afford.”
Mellissa and Clarissa, with pots on their heads, stepped onto the patio. “Someone put the evil-eye on Medusa,” Mellissa said. “She has big ears. They’re grotesque.” Mellissa and Clarissa put their pots down north of the oven. Mellissa remarked, “Medusa’s ears stick out to here. They’re hairy.” Mellissa used her hands to show how big Medusa’s ears were. Mellissa and Clarissa put their muffs into a pot that was near the north wall.
Kalla asked, “Medusa is Kalliopë’s second daughter?”
“No, she’s the third,” Clarissa said. “Megaera is the second.”
Chloë asked, “Does Medusa know who put the evil-eye on her?”
“No,” Clarissa said. “She’s asked everybody to keep her ears perked in case the culprit gives herself away. Do you want to go look at her, Chloë?”
“No,” Chloë said. “I don’t like her. She’s always mean to me. She calls me Chloë-the-troll. I think she pushed me into the well.”
Kalla inquired, “When was that?”
“It was this morning. I was pulling up on the rope when suddenly I was in the water. I’m sure somebody pushed me. It could have been pixies, but I wouldn’t doubt it was her. She’s always had it in for me.”
Kalla said, “You didn’t put the evil-eye on her; did you?”
“No, I didn’t put any evil-eye on her. She deserves to be cursed though.” Chloë stood. She declared, “I have to go. I have to bake today. Thank you for the pot.”
Chloë picked up, by its rim, one of the pots that were beside the north wall. She pulled her muff from under her tunic. She threw the muff into the pot. Chloë called, “Bye, Electra.” Using her arms to hold the pot, Chloë stepped into the alley.
When Chloë was three steps west of Medusa’s home, three sisters were backing toward her into the alley. The girls were Alicia, Portia and Tricia. Several summers younger than Chloë, Tricia resembled her older sisters. Without looking toward Chloë, the girls backed a step toward her. They were making way for Medusa, who stepped from her home into the alley. Without glancing westward, twitching her grotesque ears, Medusa walked eastward.
Close behind Medusa padded a barefoot woman who was slightly older, taller, wider and thicker than Medusa. The woman’s face looked much like Medusa’s face. The woman had on a rust-colored tunic. She was wearing beads that were like Medusa’s. Alicia, Portia and Tricia stayed close to Medusa and to the woman who was behind her.
At a short distance Chloë followed Medusa and the others. In no time everyone arrived at the well. The oldest daughters of Argon and Iphigenia, namely, Diana, Lavinia and Euphemia, were filling their pots. Several girls who were much younger than Chloë were sitting beside the walls that were south of the well. All the girls were wearing sleeveless leather tunics; all were barefoot; all had black hair and tanned skin.
To the daughters of Argon, Medusa proclaimed, “I know what you were discussing. You were discussing Megaera.” Medusa nodded toward the woman who looked like her. Medusa said, “You were wondering if Megaera was going to say yes to your brother.”
Euphemia was two summers younger than Chloë. Euphemia had her hair done in one braid. Picking at that braid’s end, Euphemia asked Medusa, “What happened to your ears?”
“Someone put the evil-eye on me. Was it you?”
Euphemia pouted, “No.”
Lavinia had seen as many summers as Chloë, and she and Chloë were about the same size. Lavinia asked Medusa, “What do they feel like?”
“They feel like ears but they keep moving.”
Diana was two summers older than Chloë. Diana was more robust than either Lavinia or Chloë. Diana had her hair draped over her back. A leather cord held her hair in place. Diana inquired of Medusa, “You don’t know who cast the evil-eye on you?”
“Oh, I have an idea, but I’m in no hurry to have the spell undone. You see, my big ears let me hear what you cannot hear. They let me hear people who are far away. They let me hear secrets. I’m going to have some people do me some favors before I give up my big ears.”
Four girls who were two or three summers younger than Chloë came from the west to the well. All four were wearing sleeveless leather tunics; all were barefoot; all had black hair and tanned skin. Each girl was holding a small, empty water-pot. The latecomers gawked at Medusa.
Euphemia asked Medusa, “What do you mean?”
“I mean, Euphemia, I’m interested in a little trading. For instance, I know who Lacedaemon likes best. I heard him talking to Melikos even though they are in the pastures.”
“Tell us,” said Lavinia.
“No,” said Medusa. “If someone wants to know what I have hear
d, she will have to give me something in return.”
Diana inquired, “What might that something be?”
“For instance, you could make for me two days’ worth of bread. For that, I would tell you everything I have heard about you.”
“I don’t need any more chores,” Lavinia protested.
“Suit yourself,” Medusa said. She shrugged.
Little Tricia wagged her braids. She inquired, “Can you hear the men at the boats?”
“Yes,” Medusa answered. “I can hear everybody in the neighborhood.”
“Medusa, you’re like a goddess,” Portia said.
“Yes, Portia, I suppose I am.” Medusa turned slowly toward the beach. Her ears were twitching. Medusa’s companions shuffled out of her way. Medusa glided down the narrow stone steps. All the girls followed Medusa except Chloë, Diana, Lavinia, Euphemia and Pandora, who was the daughter of Krypton.
Pandora was two summers younger than Chloë. Pandora had her hair done in two braids. She had one yellow flower stuck in each braid. Pandora had her thin arms wrapped round a water-pot. She remarked, “Medusa is like a goddess.”
Chloë replied grumpily, “She’s certainly like something, Pandora.” Chloë put her water-pot onto the well’s rim.
Pandora announced, “We’re best friends, Medusa and I.”
“I didn’t know you liked Medusa,” Chloë replied. “I’m glad you found a new friend, Pandora. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings when I said you should find a new friend. I meant only you might have more fun with someone your own age.”
“It doesn’t matter. If you don’t want to be my friend, you don’t have to be. I don’t care.” Pandora loped down the steps toward the beach.
“I didn’t mean to hurt her feelings,” Chloë said to Diana, Lavinia and Euphemia. “Pandora and I are too far apart in age. I’m going to be a woman soon.”
****
At mid-forenoon Chloë was leaning out of her house. She was putting an empty water-pot onto the patio. She was nudging the pot to the west side of the front doorway when Medusa called, “Chloë!” Medusa was on the patio three paces from the west entrance. Pandora, Euphemia, Tricia and four younger girls were close behind Medusa. Chloë straightened up.
“Chloë, I know something you might want to know. It’s really important. It’s something your father said about you. What would you give me for my information?”
