Athena grew still. “He is a hero to Greece. And for that alone do I honor him.”
“A true warrior,” Ares agreed, “with a warrior’s heart.”
Poseidon nodded. “He was.” He knew so more than any other here. He could find no fault with the man. Though he’d never admit to it.
“How will we honor him?” Aphrodite asked.
Poseidon watched his fellow Olympians.
Zeus spoke, “Go to him, Aphrodite. Give him whatever he wishes.”
“One gift?” Aphrodite asked. “One gift for a champion of Greece? One who’s given his life twice for his country?”
Ares laughed. “What would you give him?”
Zeus’ voice boomed, expressing his irritation. “We have no time for this. Go, Aphrodite, give him two gifts, but nothing more. Hermes, you go to Perseus. His ship will reach the island soon.”
###
Finally, Perseus of Seriphos was here. It was his ship that was tied to the dock, she was sure.
He’d come for her head, though she knew little else about him.
This man, this would-be treasure hunter, was no different from the mighty Heliodoros or wild-eyed Nereus. And yet her companions had seen Heliodoros harden before he’d freed his giant hammer from the strap on his back.
Euryale had great fun smashing his towering figure into sand.
Nereus had given her pause. He moved with predatory grace, smiling as he saw her. She could admire his form, and his confidence. His statue had pitched forward and shattered, unbalanced as he’d been turned mid-run.
But when this ship appeared on the horizon, she’d sent her sisters to Crete, none the wiser. One plea for figs and cheese had so delighted them that they’d been almost giddy when they left.
She’d watched them go, bidding them silent good-byes.
She was glad she was alone. Whatever happened, she would have her sisters free from harm. After all they had done for her, she loved them too dearly to have them harmed.
The candle she lit flickered. A gentle sea breeze teased the flame higher, then near to sputtering out.
She felt strangely calm, even though the air about her pulsed with energy. The Gods had a hand in this, she could feel it.
Every creature on the island must have sensed it as well. The only sound to be heard was the wind.
The dog, Cerberus’ spawn, had begun to whimper at midday, when the ship was almost upon them. Now he paced back and forth before the temple’s crumbling entrance. His bay, hollow and deep, rose steadily again and again.
“Let him come for me,” she whispered.
She rested her hand upon Ariston’s head, caressing the angle of his jaw with trembling fingers. He’d been with her, like this, for more than a fortnight now. She would release him, now. “I pray for you, my love, for your freedom. Be happy. Be at peace.”
The growls deepened to barking. She stilled, listening.
A man’s curses filled the air, followed by the sound of something hitting metal, solidly.
The dog snarled, breaking into a long howl.
Then it whimpered sharply, and fell silent.
Her hand slid from Ariston’s face and she backed away, slipping into the shadows that filled her lonely home. She would not make this easy for him, even if the Gods had sent him to kill her.
She pressed herself against the wall. The urge to run gripped her, but the tell-tale rhythmic sway of her companions and the sudden lightness of her head told her running would do no good.
He was inside. The scattering of pebbles upon the flagstones told her as much.
Another sound, faint but audible, caught her ear.
Some steady tapping, rhythmic and wet, pricked the hair along her neck. He must have shifted, she thought, for the sound stopped suddenly.
A stone slid free, rolling towards her across the floor with a resounding racket.
Enough of this, she would see this finished.
“Perseus? Are you Perseus, then?” she asked lightly, testing his nerve. “Are you the boy come to set me free?”
Silence fell.
“I am.” His voice was strong, but unsteady.
She laughed, a bittersweet sound. He thought he was brave, did he? “What is it you want with my head? Gold? Power? Or do you wish to be a hero, celebrated by the Gods?”
“No,” he mumbled, but his words were lost amongst the clang of metal and stone.
He was nervous, moving without the stealth or skill of a proven warrior.
“No?” She laughed again. “You’ve made me curious now, brave Perseus. What brings you to hunt such a dangerous trophy?”
She heard his indrawn breath and smiled. He was more than nervous, he was afraid.
“Something you know nothing of, Gorgon. I come in the name of love. For the love of my lady.” His voice rang out, echoing off the walls.
His words pierced her calm. She had no words, no witty retort or set-down for this impertinent whelp.
No, she thought, perhaps not so impertinent as naïve and foolish. She would know the truth of the matter. It was fitting that love would end this, for it was the cause of it all.
“Love?” Her voice broke. “Well, then, Perseus, you must heed my directions if you are to take my head without turning yourself into stone. I will have you succeed on your quest…for love.”
Silence greeted her announcement. She understood. She would be wary as well.
“And, if the Gods are finally done with me, I might at last find peace in Tartarus…or Hades before this day is through.” She laughed sadly, praying she spoke the truth. “Listen closely, boy.”
She heard him shift, heard his harsh breathing.
“You come with the Gods’ favor?” she asked softly.
He was silent.
“Tell me of your love,” she coaxed.
His hesitation was brief. “Andromeda… She will be sacrificed to Poseidon’s beast for her mother’s treachery.”
Medusa’s heart was not stone. His voice was full of fear and yearning. She understood. “How will you defeat this monster?”
He cleared his throat, “Your…your head…”
“Will turn the beast to stone?” She encouraged. “And your mother? There is more to your story?”
“How do you know such things?” He was clearly astounded.
“I may be trapped on this island, but I have sisters who love me, boy. They listen and learn all they can – to keep me safe,” she explained. “Your mother is being pressured to submit to this Polydectes?”
“She is.” His voice was low. “He used this quest to be rid of me, so it seems. My mother, Danae, has fled the city to hide in the temple. And still he tries to press his suit with her.”
Anger filled her stomach. “You are an honorable son -- and a devoted lover.”
There was not much he could say to her praise.
“Then I ask you again, Perseus, do you have the Gods’ favor?”
“I do.”
“And have they equipped you with the tools to complete your task?” Her calm amazed her. But she was resigned to her fate – and would hurry it on its way now.
“Zeus’ sword, Hades’ helmet and Athena’s aspis.” His words were tight.
She smiled. “Athena’s shield? Use it to aim and strike, brave Perseus, for my companions’ reflections wield no power. You will be safe…and successful.”
His words spilled out in a rush, “Why do you help me?”
“Because I know what it is to lose your love.” The anguish in her voice stopped her. She drew in a deep breath and continued with more reserve, “I would not wish such misery on you, not when I have the power to give you what was taken from me.” She paused. “I am done with this life… It is the will of the Gods.”
She ignored the slip of the snakes as they stretched forward. They would find the prey they heard, unless she succeeded.
“Set the shield, Perseus, and I will go to it. You will have but a moment, while they are distracted. Be quick,
I beg you.”
She heard him moving rapidly, no longer worried about stealth or grace.
“It’s done.” His voice was agitated.
She followed his voice and found the shield, resting at the broken base of one of the temple’s columns.
She stared at the shield, fighting a flash of memory. She’d been a child when she’d first looked upon this shield. Athena had stood straight and tall, smiling down at her. And Medusa had been overwhelmed with love for the Goddess.
She shook her head and closed her eyes, kneeling before the shield. Her hands searched the floor, grasping several rocks. She stood and took aim, but paused.
Beyond Perseus shield lay Ariston’s statue. His face, forever hardened in a tender admiration, stole her breath. But it was the gentle line of his right arm, still reaching out to cup her cheek, that captured her attention. It ended abruptly.
His arm lay on the ground, separated from the rest.
He was broken.
She swallowed her sob, and tore her eyes from the statue.
She heaved the stone at the shield, the metallic ping reverberating throughout the temple. Her companions twisted, all eyes fixed upon the shield.
Her vision went red, her neck steadied as the serpents readied for the kill.
Had they failed then? Her breath escaped, the sob slipping from her lips.
The cold kiss of steel struck the back of her neck, followed by a searing cut.
Darkness claimed her.
###
“She cannot cross, Ariston. She will fall,” Hades said calmly.
Ariston shook his head. “Fall?” Was there no end to the God’s meddling?
“It is the will of the Fates,” Hades explained. “Those cursed cannot travel with Charon. No funeral rites are given, so no penance can be made. Even as a shade, their curse follows them. They’re to be cursed in the Underworld too. They fall, from grace and favor, into Tartarus.”
“Then I will meet her there.”
“Are you so eager for eternal pain and suffering?” Hades asked.
“No,” he assured him. “But I can find no purpose in any existence without her. I tried and failed.”
Hades inclined his head.
“Mayhap I can help,” a woman spoke softly, moving from the shadows. “I am Aphrodite, Ariston of Rhodes. Olympus would give you two gifts.”
“Let me share Elysium with my wife,” he said at once.
Hades regarded Aphrodite. “And the other?”
“That is all I wish.” There was nothing else, he knew.
Hades regarded him intently, then beckoned him to the balcony overlooking all of the Underworld. “It can be done, but your trials are not yet over. She will still fall. You will have to catch her. Go to the fields there, and look up. You will see the eye of a storm cloud, churning above. Fire, ice, rain, wind – all will rail against you. Look for the flash, a rift that splits the sky. It is then she falls. If you do not catch her, Ariston, she is lost to you. Even I cannot overrule the Fates.”
Ariston nodded, his eyes fixed upon the darkening skies.
Hades urged, “Go now.”
Ariston spoke quickly. “Thank you, Goddess. And you, my lord, Hades…”
“You’ve no time for pretty speeches.” Hades waved him away.
But Aphrodite smiled brightly at him.
Ariston nodded and made his way from the hall, Hades’ home, and across the bridge separating the massive black castle from the fields. His legs flew, moving towards the darkening clouds overhead. When he reached the field, his eyes turned towards the sky.
The clouds rolled, caught up and twisted by the strong pull of the wind. A clap of thunder shook the field, and the air crackled about him, pulling his hair straight up.
The wind roared hotly about him, scorching his neck and cheeks. His cloak twisted up, choking him. But then it lifted, burned or blown away. And still the heat scoured the inside of his nose and throat as he breathed.
Lightning struck the grass at his feet, splitting the ground wide and singeing the grass before him. He peered over into the dark place beneath, but turned quickly from the sight.
He would catch her. She would spend no time in that wicked place.
The clouds overhead spun, churning at an ever faster speed as a sudden rain fell upon him. Shards of ice followed, pummeling him with such force that he widened his legs to maintain his balance.
His eyes turned back to the skies, and he waited.
Then he saw her.
Her hair was a streak of gold, hurtling from the rift in the clouds straight towards the jagged hole at his feet. He braced himself against the edge, tensing his arms. The frozen rain beat on, and still he waited.
He blinked the rain from his eyes and reached for her.
The wind shifted, pushing against him when he would reach her. Her body, carried by the wind, landed in his arms with a mighty force – knocking them away from the hole and across the field.
He gasped, sucking in breath as the air fell still about him.
Ariston’s arms were heavy, full.
His hands formed against the curve of her back, clasping her softness with trembling hands. He sat forward, cradling her in his lap and pressing his face into her hair. The silken softness of her honeyed locks slipped against his cheek. Her scent tickled his nose, making him press her to him fiercely.
He was shaking, overcome.
He opened his eyes.
Her eyes were closed as she lay in his arms.
His hand moved over her face, brushing her hair – her glorious hair – back. Her cheeks were pink, her skin perfect. No scars or marks of the serpents remained.
He pulled her close again, nuzzling her neck with his nose.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead, her nose and then her lips. They were soft, velvet, beneath his. And they parted, her breath mingling with his as his hold tightened upon her.
“Ariston?” Her voice filled his ears.
“I’m here,” he whispered against her lips.
She returned his kisses, eagerly. Her hands twined about his neck as she clung to him. Then she sighed, sounding pleased, and burrowed against his chest.
He pulled back, soaking in the sight of her.
Her huge blue eyes fluttered open, dismayed. She stared at him, disoriented. “Am I dreaming?” she asked as her eyes traveled over his face. She raised a hand, her delicate white hand, and placed it upon his cheek.
He shook his head.
“You feel warm and solid beneath my touch,” she murmured, caressing his mouth with her thumb.
Her brow furrowed then, and her hand fell to her hair. She tensed in his arms, turning wide eyes upon him.
“This is no dream.” His hands cupped her face gently, his words soft. “You’ve come back to me.”
Her hand lifted slowly, stroking her neck with trembling fingers. She blinked, then took his right wrist and pressed it to her chest. She kissed his wrist, her breath hitching as she asked, “Are we…” Her eyes filled with tears, but she smiled as she looked at him. “Are we in Hades’ realm?”
His hand stroked over her face again, tracing her lips. “We go to Elysium, wife. We are home.”
“Forgive me,” she murmured, her words a plea that seared his heart.
He shook his head, pressing his lips to her. “There is nothing to forgive, lady. I beg you leave it behind.”
He felt her arms slip about him as she pressed herself against him. He could not fit her close enough to him, could not stop himself from crushing her against him.
But she seemed little bothered by his unyielding hold.
“Let us stay this way,” she whispered against his throat, “until I know you are real. I cannot let you go.”
He inhaled at her temple, pressing a kiss to her brow. “I will hold you until you are done.”
She laughed, a sweet, free sound that surprised them both. “Then you will never let me go, husband.”
He laughed too, his hand cuppi
ng her cheek with tenderness. “No, wife, I will never let you go.”
Epilogue
Poseidon tore his eyes from Aphrodite. All were held captive by her tale, for her telling of Ariston and Medusa’s reunion was magical. He cursed the pull he felt upon his heart.
“She is reunited with her husband.” Hera wiped tears from her cheeks.
“She has found peace,” Aphrodite murmured. “And all are satisfied.”
“What of Hades? His mood of late is most perplexing. Is he content to lose Ariston in such a way?” Zeus asked.
Aphrodite nodded, but said nothing.
Poseidon felt less than satisfied. In fact, he felt an emptiness closing in on him.
“The Gorgons wail yet.” Apollo shook his head.
“Let them wail,” Athena spoke finally, her face ashen from Aphrodite’s tale. “I would have a satyr pipe made to mimic their cries. I can think of no better way to remind us to act with care.” She turned angry eyes upon Poseidon, speaking to him as if they were the only ones in the Council Chamber. “Mortals are fragile creatures and we must treat them as such.”
Poseidon lifted an eyebrow. Did she think to chastise him? Even now? He smiled.
“It shall be done,” Zeus agreed. “And I would place Perseus and Medusa in the stars.”
Hera’s brow arched. “Truly?”
“Is it not enough that her image is now etched onto Athena’s shield?” Ares groaned, impatience written upon his hard face.
“Must we see her in the stars as well?” Poseidon seconded Ares’ irritation.
“You sound like a jealous child,” Hera laughed.
Athena goaded, “What, Poseidon, has losing Medusa left you without sport?”
“I’ve no doubt you’ll find some poor maid to tempt your appetites soon enough,” Apollo smiled.
“Why am I blamed for all mischief?” he asked innocently.
“Because you have a hand in most,” Zeus said.
Poseidon laughed.
He glanced at Aphrodite. How she turned from him with downcast eyes. Mischief had been made already, in the gardens of Olympus. Though Hephaestus could not bed his wife, he would hardly be pleased when his wife bore Poseidon a son.
The thought brought a slow smile to his face.
Medusa, A Love Story (The Loves of Olympus) Page 29
