“Are you questioning me?” Athena spat.
Poseidon regarded the women, shaking his head at how quickly they were distracted by their own egos.
“I do not doubt your wisdom, Athena. But I know what it is to have love in my heart,” Hera spoke softly.
“Love? Again with love.” Athena shook her head. “If Medusa had loved me more, we would not be speaking of her now.”
“How can you say such a thing?” Aphrodite laughed, astonished. “She loved you with more devotion than you know. A woman so in love can rarely control her passion. And yet Medusa did. Your priestess remained pure, chaste and devout while love, womanly love, enflamed her whole heart. It was only when you gave her freedom that she gave in to the longing she’d denied…”
“She wasted little time,” Athena bit back.
“There was little time to waste on the eve of war,” Hera continued clearly. “And even then, she did not give in to cravings of the flesh. She honored me, honored my husband and the marriage rites with a proper ceremony and offerings.”
“She is wise. You instructed her well. Even after she’d been released from the temple, she honored us all. Marriage to a soldier who has proven worthy of your selection was wise as well, don’t you see? They would not go against you while she was yours, but when she had the choice she chose to align herself with someone who serves you still. And he fought bravely for Athens, your fair city.” Aphrodite’s voice faded. “She did all with honor.”
Poseidon was impressed with such flattery and word-play. But he tired of these matters, too. “I fail to see the point of this discussion. You do have a point, surely?”
“You believe Medusa has been misjudged?” Zeus eyes sparkled, a broad and magnanimous smile spreading across his handsome face. “And you’ve devised a resolution that will benefit all?”
“We do,” Aphrodite agreed. “We have.”
“She has been dealt with.” Athena glared, lifting her chin. “She deserves no more of my time.”
“We will not trouble you.” Hera smiled sweetly. “We will be responsible for this…test. And, if she accepts our challenge, we will reward or punish her accordingly.”
Poseidon shifted, sitting forward on the thick pelt. His words were muttered, but audible to the rest. “Has she not been punished enough?”
“Is that a flash of conscience?” Aphrodite’s lips pursed playfully.
Zeus reclined lazily, turning his head to smile at Poseidon. He arched an eyebrow, echoing Aphrodite’s question.
Poseidon shook his head, lying back once more.
“And the affront she paid me?” Athena asked.
“Your pride was wounded by the desecration of your temple.” Ares’ voice was hard.
Aphrodite spoke, before Athena could respond to Ares’ barb. “And while that is an offense, did Medusa choose the place of her ravishment? Something tells me she would not have done such a thing. She was too loyal to you. She is loyal still…”
Poseidon spoke quickly, before he could change his mind. “She did not. Truth be told, she wanted to see none of it – so I blinded her until it was done.”
“It was you?” Athena looked at him with disgust.
Apollo groaned and Ares laughed. “You owe me a chariot, Apollo,” Ares’ voice was merry.
“You wagered?” Hera shook her head.
“It was sport.” Apollo waved her irritation aside.
“She could not bear to look at you, and yet you could still use her thusly?” Athena continued to glare at him.
Laughter overpowered the melody of Hermes’ lyre.
“If the girl is comely enough,” Hermes spoke for the first time, “little will stop a man in rut.”
“You speak from vast experience?” Apollo poked.
“You pity me for vowing to remain pure?” Athena asked Hera and Aphrodite before turning back to Poseidon. “Is the rest also true, Poseidon? Did she give herself to you in exchange for the well-being of her husband? My guard, my soldier?”
He felt heat wash over him, angered by the flush of guilt Athena’s words stirred within him.
“What’s done is done,” Hera said, shaking her head. “She did insult you, Athena, but not through actions. That she questioned you is worthy of punishment.”
“She did so out of her desperation,” Aphrodite explained.
“No,” Athena said softly. “She did so because she was scared.”
“She may have been, a bit.” Hera nodded. “But desperate, too, with grief. The loss of her husband…” Hera shuddered, then asked, “Does she yet know that he lives?”
Ares shook his head. “He is only just returned to Athens. The battle at Salamis and carting all of Athens to and from Aegina has kept news slow at best.”
“But she is no longer in Athens…” Apollo said.
“Where is she?” Zeus asked.
“The Gorgons hid her in a cave,” Aphrodite said. “She fell, you see, injuring herself. Her sisters took her with them, to return to Phorcys across the sea, I suppose.”
Aphrodite looked at Apollo, who agreed.
“So it would seem. I saw her stumbling from the mouth of this cave. Perhaps she was confused, perhaps she hadn’t yet grasped the magnitude of her…condition, for she seemed to war with the serpents in earnest. Persians came upon her, those that had been looting and burning out the country as they retreated beyond reach of the Hoplites.” Apollo met Hera’s gaze before addressing Zeus. “I saw her grief as these men, her enemy, turned to stone. And I pitied her.” Apollo turned to Athena. “Truly, you would have felt the weight of it.”
Poseidon could envision it all. Her fear, coupled with her sorrow.
“Since then I’ve seen little of her,” Apollo finished with a shrug. “She hides while I am in the sky and travels with her sisters at night. I’ve rarely found her the same place from one day to the next.”
“Selene said she travels at night to keep others safe,” Aphrodite sounded forlorn.
“She cannot bear it, I think.” Hera spoke this time, staring pointedly at her husband. “She cannot bear to cause suffering. She hides herself away to prevent it.”
“Even now, she puts others before herself.” Poseidon’s voice was faint.
“She wronged you, Athena. None here deny that. And she has paid dearly for that. I would give her the chance to prove herself to you. To free herself and those good men who live and serve you, and Olympus. And return a beloved wife to her heroic husband. Ariston of Rhodes deserves to have his wife with him,” Aphrodite pleaded.
“How can she prove herself to me?” Athena asked. “She is no longer my priestess.”
“Nor is she chaste,” Ares laughed.
“She may no longer be able to serve as a priestess, but she can still yet show her devotion to you and Olympus,” Aphrodite assured her.
“And if she does, you would free her from her curse?” Athena asked.
“She cannot know,” Zeus stroked his beard, contemplating. “If she knew she might be released, she would say anything to find Athena’s favor again.”
“If she proves herself without any hope of forgiveness I would have her returned to her husband and safe from further meddling.” Hera’s huge brown eyes shot daggers at Poseidon. “I would have the word of all Olympians.”
Poseidon nodded. “You have it.”All eyes shifted to him, so he smiled unabashedly.
“Do you agree, Athena?” Zeus asked.
A lingering silence fell, but Poseidon knew what would happen.
“I do,” Athena consented. “But I will have a part in this scheme, Hera. Medusa was my priestess – my favorite at that.”
Aphrodite clapped her hands, laughing. “This promises a happy ending.”
“We shall see.” Zeus pulled his wife into his arms.
###
Warm hands clasped her. The roughened pads of his fingers trailed exquisite heat over her bare flesh. His mouth traveled across her lips, kissing her cheek, her jaw and her ear. His breath
seemed to echo his caress, fanning across her brow as he moved.
“Don’t wake up, my love,” he soothed. “Let me keep you warm and safe.”
She sighed, leaning against him. No, no she would not wake up…
“I’ve no interest in greeting the day when you are here, with me now.” His words, ever more bittersweet, haunted her.
“Medusa.” It was the faintest sound.
No. Not yet. Let me stay…
She burrowed into his side, though he felt much softer now. His warmth was fading too.
“Medusa.” The voice was louder this time.
“Ariston?” she murmured, pleading for him to stay.
She heard a sigh, followed by Euryale’s whispered, “She dreams of nothing else. It grieves me to wake her.”
She was loath to open her eyes, but her sisters’ hushed conversation effectively chased away her dreams.
“Because her sadness is so pitiful, sister, that even a heart as jaded as yours aches for her. I would take her curse if I could, to free her,” Stheno said. “But, as I cannot, we must help her avoid any more unpleasantness on our journey.”
“Medusa,” Euryale tried again, sounding more than a little annoyed.
“I hear you,” Medusa answered, though she lay still.
In the first moments of waking, her head did not ache. It was the only respite from her pain. She opened her eyes slowly, finding her sisters situated comfortably in the small hut where they’d spent the night.
“We have bread and cheese.” Stheno held a plate before her.
“And grapes, too.” Euryale sat across from her, popping a grape into her mouth.
Medusa looked at the plate and tasted bile in her mouth. “No. But I thank you.”
“It must be part of the curse.” Euryale shook her head. “How else can you have survived so long without a bite of food?”
The moon had come and gone more than once since her sisters had helped her from Galenus’ house. In that time, they’d made little progress towards their destination. She tired easily, her stomach churned, and the stabbing pain in her head forced her to rest for part of every day. Each day she hoped she might grow stronger, hoped they might reach Delphi and ask the oracle for guidance.
But nothing changed.
It was more than that, Medusa knew. She was a coward. She longed to reach her father’s home to escape the devastation that littered Greece. Each village, each farm or homestead they’d come upon had been the same. The Persians had been thorough in their retreat. They had cut down all those in their path, leaving no survivors.
“A heartless tactic,” Stheno had observed at one gruesome discovery.
“They think to remove those who would stand against them upon their next invasion,” Euryale muttered.
The three of them had spent the evening performing the funeral rites for the family, careful to place a coin under the tongues of the eight they laid to rest. It was the children, one still in swaddling, that tore at the remaining shards of Medusa’s heart.
“Would that my…companions and I could look upon the savages that performed such monstrous deeds,” she had whispered. For a brief moment, she would have embraced her curse, to reap vengeance for this family and the others they’d found.
Now the hissing of her serpents only served to irritate her.
She would ignore them, as always, and concentrate on her sisters. In the time she’d spent with them, they’d taken to removing their scarves and shawls. They had no need of them when it was just the three of them. While they did stand two heads taller than any mortal man she had met, their appearance was far less gruesome than their carved masks on the temple. Broad of forehead and long in the chin, their bones were more pronounced and angular. Their eyes were sunken and black, set beneath thick brows set in a permanent furrow. Their thick, pale lips pulled into a downward slope, giving the impression they were constantly displeased or angry.
It was their posturing that made them frightening.
Under such dark and forbidding garments, mortal man had little choice. To feel terror, the need to flee, was a logical response to creatures of such overwhelming presence.
But Medusa had learned much about her sisters. Namely, that they were loyal and proud women. They honored their family dearly – especially, it seemed, their little sister.
Euryale scowled at one of Medusa’s companions, giggling as it slithered away.
“Are you trying to scare them or me?” Medusa asked drily.
“Why else would the Gods have made us so,” Euryale asked, “If not to strike fear upon all that look upon us – your wee beasties included?”
“We are to remind man not to take their fortunes for granted, sister. We are a reminder of the beauty of life and the blessings they have through the mercy of the Gods,” Stheno offered with great patience, as if she’d had to explain this to her sister over and over again.
“By being the most loathsome of creatures to look upon?” Euryale laughed.
Stheno shrugged. “It would seem.”
“The Gods are most peculiar,” the amusement was still evident in Euryale’s voice.
Medusa’s head began to throb. “Indeed.” She rolled onto her back, hearing the tell-tale hiss and slither of her bed partners. It took hours for them to calm and settle down to sleep, filling her ears with their twitches and shifting as they did so. She’d taken to sleeping in some of Stheno’s dark veils. The added darkness and weight seemed to ease the serpents.
The veils helped, but they did not rest for long or stay confined beneath them. And when they woke, she gave up any hope of sleep. So she would rise, with great care, as they did not like to be pinched or pinned beneath her.
They would bite her, as was their habit when irritated.
She sat up slowly, pressing a hand to her forehead. The serpents immediately plucked at the veils, nudging back to free themselves. She ignored them, asking, “Where are we?”
Stheno held the water skin towards her hopefully. “The tip of Attica. The sun sets shortly, if you’d like to go and see?”
Medusa shook her head. “No… I cannot risk it.”
“Have no worries, sister. The Persians found everyone long before we arrived. It seems a shame to stay locked up when this time of day brings you such joy.” Euryale’s attention caught upon one the serpents. It stared fixedly at her until she shook her head, breaking its gaze.
Medusa felt one coiling about her neck. It took every ounce of self restraint not to try to push it from her. Each touch, each hiss or flick of their long, thin tongues ripped at the lining of her stomach. Time had not softened her feelings towards them. She hated them, hated what they could do – what they’d made her.
Yet she had no one to blame but herself.
“Come, Medusa.” Stheno opened the door, tempting her with the beauty of the view before them.
They were indeed on the tip of Greece, rising above the cerulean depths of the sea beyond. The sound of the gulls, the steady roar of the surf and the tang of the salt reached her nose. She inhaled deeply, unable to tamp down the slight pleasure she felt. She rose slowly and moved towards the door.
She ignored the excited hiss and slither that commenced about her shoulders. They would not tarnish this. She wouldn’t let them.
“Go on,” Euryale urged.
Medusa nodded absentmindedly.
The sun was setting. And they were on the sea. The warmth of the evening caressed her shoulders, attempting to cut through the cold that clung to her insides since she’d stumbled from Athena’s temple.
It felt as if years had passed.
But when she thought of him, it was only moments. How the sea wind would have tossed his curls and kissed the bronze of his skin.
She drew in a shuddering breath and closed her eyes against the brilliant rays of the sun. But the throbbing began anyway, causing pain to cleave her head and scalding heat to sear along length of her scar.
The faint jingle of a bell reached Medus
a, its merry tinkling a familiar sound. It stirred memories of home, of Elpis and Xenia, and her beloved Thea. It, coupled with the salty sea air and the bleat of a goat, pushed her burdens aside.
Her head seemed to lighten, making her sigh with pleasure.
Relief came when she found sleep…or when the serpents spied a victim. In those moments before they found some prey or sport to destroy with their sparkling red eyes, they were one heaving mass of muscles and sound – stretching out to ensnare their prey with one fatal look. It was then, before they struck, that her head was calm and weightless…
Medusa stilled. They moved as one, swaying in anticipation of something she couldn’t see. They had found something or someone to prick their interest.
The ringing bell drew closer, drowning out the sounds of her serpents.
Spare me this, I beg of you, she pleaded to whichever God might be listening.
There was nothing to be done.
They wove and bobbed, their sites fixed on their victim already.
“No,” she pushed them down, frantically pulling up the thick scarf about her shoulders. One serpent snatched it, then another, and pulled it from her hold. She tried to reach it, but a breeze caught it and pushed it along the dusty ground at her feet. It blew over the rock cliff before her labored efforts could retrieve it.
She shook her head, pushing the serpents away in desperation. It was too late. They would have done their damage by now, she knew. She turned anguished eyes towards the tinkling ring of the bell.
A small boy stood there, his brown eyes wide and unblinking as he stared at her.
Chapter Thirteen
The serpents hissed and bobbed, clearly startling the boy.
She could not hold them all. She sucked in her breath sharply as one bit her forearm deeply. And still, she tried to fight them. “You must leave, boy. You must run.” She could not bear to see him suffer.
But the snakes had not changed him. Even now, regardless of her futile attempts to stop them, they wove and glared at him to no avail.
Medusa, A Love Story (The Loves of Olympus) Page 23
