Medusa, A Love Story (The Loves of Olympus) (26 page)

There was no shame in it, this need for her.

Fear would not rule him, though it crept upon him in moments of weakness. He could not help but worry. Had Poseidon changed her?

They need never speak of it, nor would he ask her what happened. If she needed to tell him, he would listen – and hoped he could offer her the support she might need. But he would never ask her to relive it.

His hands fisted and he pulled the sails’ lashing tight, ignoring the burn of the ropes across his palms.

Would she still want him or set him aside from shame?

Or had she gone with Poseidon? He swallowed. If she’d gone, she had no choice in the matter.

No. He would not let his mind twist his heart with such thoughts.

She was waiting for him on Aegina. She would welcome him with open arms, he knew this.

And he loved her more deeply. Whatever she’d endured or submitted to, she’d done it for him. He would do the same for her. He would do whatever he had to for her safety. Nothing mattered more to him.

As long as he had her love, there was nothing more he needed or wanted.

They had time to live and love. He prayed his face was well-lined and his hair all but gone before he found himself kneeling before Hades again.

Whatever time he had with her, he would be thankful for it.

The voyage was tiresome. The crew chafed to get there, as did Ariston. But choppy seas and blustering winds tossed them about, setting them on Aegina’s coast at dusk.

The docks and shore were covered in the tents of Athens’ refugees. People, hundreds of women and children, came out to greet the returning heroes with cries of joy and pride. Ariston’s heart grew unsteady and his gaze searched the crowd for one glimpse of flashing blue eyes or honey locks.

As the crew tossed ropes down from the trireme, the dock master clambered up to the deck.

He clasped forearms with Ariston. “Welcome home, heroes of Athens. I am Kallistratos of Aegina, and I am at your service.”

“We thank you for your welcome, Kallistratos. I am Ariston of Rhodes, an Ekdromos for Athens. How fare our Athenians?” Ariston noted the slight twitch of the man’s mouth and waited.

“As well as such a sizable group may be, so far from home and with little in the way of comfort.” He appeared to have something more to say, but reconsidered. He smiled tightly.

“We’ve been tasked with taking them home on the morn,” Ariston said. “Xerxes is far gone now. And Athens needs to fortify its walls before winter comes.”

“Sir, some of the men are anxious to find their families.” Pamphilos spoke softly at Ariston’s elbow.

Ariston nodded. “As am I, Pamphilos.”

“A word of caution, soldiers. There has been talk of illness amongst some in the tents.” Kallistratos’ face was wary, his voice dropping.

Ariston froze, raising a hand to still his men. “A fever?”

“Perhaps…of the mind, it seems.” Kallistratos shook his head.

“How many have died?” Pamphilos asked.

Ariston continued to watch the man. There was something more. Something Kallistratos was not telling them.

“No… none dead, brave hoplite.” He paused. “It is nothing fatal, it seems. It does nothing more than confuse memories. A few women have said things that make no sense – as if they’ve witnessed a creature or spirit from Hades.” He looked at them and shrugged. “It may be nothing more than poor conditions or lack of water…”

Ariston nodded. “But none have died?”

“None dead.” Kallistratos repeated. “Now, I will leave you to greet the other ships soon arriving. But find me if you’ve need of me.”

He smiled brightly before crossing the plank the crew had lowered.

Ariston watched him go. The man wanted the Athenians gone, it was plain to see.

“It would be hard to leave one’s home and temple, not knowing when it would be safe to return,” Pamphilos murmured to Ariston. “Such nervous fits are understandable from the fairer sex?”

“Be wary, Pamphilos. Speak plainly to the men. If there is illness, we would be wise to leave it here. Now Athens needs only the strong,” Ariston answered.

Pamphilos nodded and returned to the men, looking grave.

Ariston made his way to the plank, fighting the desire to run. He would find her.

There were hundreds of people in the tent town of Athens. Faces he knew, but more he did not. After walking aimlessly up and down the rows of tents, he turned back to the dock to find Kallistratos.

“I seek news of the councilman Galenus and his wife, Xenia of Athens?” Ariston asked. “My wife is in their household. Which tent is his?”

Kallistratos face stiffened. “Sir, Xenia and some of her household have taken the tent farthest from the settlement.” He took Ariston’s elbow, leaning in to speak softly. “The lady Xenia is stricken with the…illness, I fear.”

Ariston assessed the man’s face. “Is she mad?”

Kallistratos cleared his throat. “So it would seem.”

“Who accompanied her?”

“Several serving girls—” Kallistratos began.

“Galenus?” Something was not right. As spirited as Galenus was, he would not have stayed behind. He was a statesman, not a warrior.

The older man shook his head. “He did not make the journey, though I know not what happened. And his wife, Xenia, she grows dangerously agitated when asked.”

Ariston turned from the man, his pace quickening as he moved along the shore. Something had happened in Galenus’ house, something to distress Xenia gravely. Try as he might to avoid it, his unease increased with each step.

The tent was placed aside. A fire burned inside, but the flaps were closed.

All about him sounds of family and life, of reunion and joy. But here, the stillness of Xenia’s tent warned him.

“Lady Xenia?” he called out. “Xenia of Athens?”

He heard the gasp of a woman, startled, then a ragged sob. He froze, unsure of how to proceed. There was another voice. He could hear it faintly, another woman speaking, soothingly, in hushed gentle tones.

He waited, fearful of calling out again. But he would not leave without news.

“A moment, please.” The voice was close, as if the woman were standing on the other side of the tent wall. “Let me calm her.”

“I will wait,” he assured her.

The wind blew, threatening the flame of his lantern. He paced, his ears straining to make out the interior’s happenings. But the words were whispered, too muted to make out.

He stared at the tent, willing someone to come out.

And Elpis did.

“Elpis?” His relief was instantaneous. He moved forward, clasping her shoulders. “You are here. And well?”

“My lord?” she choked out. “Ariston? But you…you cannot be here.” She seemed to droop in his hold, so he steadied her. “You are dead,” she whispered.

Chapter Eleven

“I am here, Elpis.” His tone offered little comfort, he knew. But his wife may yet wait for him in Xenia’s tent.

“You died,” she insisted. “You were struck down…”

“I was struck down but, as you see, I live.”

She shook her head, “But you… It’s because you died.” Her voice wavered and she pulled herself from his hold.

“Is my lady wife well and within?” His patience was wearing thin. “What has happened?”

Elpis shook her head, faster and faster. “No. She is not within… She was left in Athens.”

He froze, staring at her in surprise. Anger, pure and unfiltered, spilled from his lips. “Left behind?”

Elpis raised her hands. “Do not wake Xenia, I beg of you.” She glanced over her shoulder towards the tent.

“You may well beg, Elpis, for I will beat you soundly if you do not speak plainly.” He felt the tightening of his jaw, the curl of his lip.

He cared little for Elpis’ fear or Xenia’s nerves. He would know everything – now.

“She was ill.” Elpis looked away, her eyes avoiding his. “But she was not alone. Her sisters kept her. She could not make the journey to Aegina. She could not…” She shook her head again. “Her sisters were to care for her until she… until she….”

Ariston stared at her, his throat tightening. “Until?”

“Her head… She fell, coming back from the temple and… cleaved her skull.” She was shaking her head again, her arms wrapped about herself. “I’d been with my family, readying them for our departure. When I took them to the docks, I saw that neither Galenus and Xenia, nor your lady were there. I ran back to his home, to help if they had need of me.”

He turned from her, listening to her words with growing alarm.

“Galenus was gone…as was Nikolaos. Xenia was…screaming uncontrollably. She could not speak, but wailed and cried for Medusa.”

Ariston spoke, unable to control the anguish in his voice. “For Medusa?”

“She wept and cried out. Stheno said the sight of Medusa was too great, for her wound was violent to behold – or so Stheno said. In truth I did not ask to see our lady… Xenia’s wails stirred such fear…” Tears streamed down her face. “I could not bear to see her so, not after everything she has endured.”

She was not dead. If she was…he would know it somehow, he would feel it. She was alive. “You did not see her? You did not see her wound with your own eyes?”

Elpis’ lowered her gaze in shame. “No. I am not brave, my lord.”

“But Xenia did?” he asked, his voice low and lethal.

She pleaded, “You cannot trouble her with this, my lord. She will be of no help, of that I can promise you. She does little but mutter nonsense, often too softly to be understood. When I do hear her, I wish I had not. Her mind…has twisted.”

“She was the last to see my wife, Elpis. I will speak with her in the morning. Once we set sail to Athens, I will speak with her.”

He would hold on to hope. Medusa had taught him that, above all things. He would find out what happened, and he would find her.

###

Poseidon drew in a deep breath, stunned by Athena’s announcement. In truth the Council Chamber was silent. Even Ares’ quick tongue was silent.

“What have you done?” Zeus thundered, with good reason, his voice reverberating amongst the clouds.

At least Athena had the decency not to challenge her father’s wrath. Her subdued response showed no sign of challenge, only regret. “She was in need of a punishment.”

Poseidon leaned back in his throne. He did not take kindly to the twist in his stomach or the flicker of conscience that worried the back of his mind.

This matter had nothing to do with him.

Medusa had dared to challenge a Goddess. Yes, Athena was the Goddess of Wisdom, but she was also the Goddess of Strategy. When challenged, Athena was quick to react – as evidenced by her reaction to Medusa.

“This is your idea of a just punishment, daughter? For whom?” Zeus bellowed. “How did she come to excite such a punishment from you?”

“She has… she has known a man – in my temple,” Athena declared.

“The temple now smoldering in ruins?” Ares asked, a scornful look upon his face. “If this mortal woman elicits such a response for coupling with a man in your temple, I look forward to the justice you will serve upon the Persians that destroyed your city – and your temple.”

“And burned every crop in the fields,” Demeter mourned. “Even if Persephone and I work as one, Greece’s people will suffer hunger.”

Zeus held up his hand. “The Persians will be dealt with by us all.” He leveled an angry glare upon his daughter. “Athena, you must see the error in this?”

Poseidon tensed, in anticipation and apprehension. Athena did not take kindly to being chided, especially in front of the others.

“I see nothing of the sort.” Her voice grew stronger. “To have used my temple thusly is low enough, but she dared to blaspheme the Gods, myself and Poseidon, too.”

Zeus looked at his brother sharply, but said nothing.

Poseidon held his tongue. This was not the time to confess his part in this tragedy. He was sorely tempted, but Athena’s lack of discipline made him quiet. This was what he wanted, to thwart his self-righteous niece, to outwit her in her own home. And he had.

He’d never considered that Medusa might speak out so. They had made a bargain, nothing more. He had underestimated her grief…and her love.

Damn her.

Yet she had no right to question Athena, to demand explanations. She was a mortal. She had been a mortal.

Now she was a monster.

“You will put an end to this.” Zeus stood, towering over Athena and trembling with rage.

“Father!” Athena’s face grew red and her lower lip quivered. “She has wronged me after I loved her so dearly. She has betrayed me. And…and she has made a mockery of her marriage and the man she calls husband.”

“The hero from Salamis,” Ares noted.

“The man Hades freed?” Aphrodite asked.

Apollo frowned at Athena in disapproval. “A man who deserves honor and respect from Olympus and his wife.”

“He may have returned for his wife,” Aphrodite said, “but they cannot be together now.”

Poseidon’s pleasure paled again. Medusa had been true in all. She’d been maligned, cursed, and injured because of him. How could he reveal the truth? To slake his lust he’d promised Medusa safety for her husband, a man he’d done nothing for. To further his enjoyment, he’d pricked his niece and taken Medusa in the temple.

She’d given herself because of the love she had for her husband. A man who loved her so dearly, he gave up Elysium to return. But he’d never hold her in his arms again or look upon her adoring face – not now.

He’d not seen the wrong in it until now. He would look a villain before all, if he confessed his part. Zeus might demand justice – Athena most certainly would.

And he did not enjoy the sorrow that gripped his stomach.

“He is a hero to all of Greece and Athens,” Athena said, nodding. “He was my guard, a cunning fighter, an Ekdromos of the finest skills.”

“A hero with no wife to come home to.” Aphrodite looked at Zeus pointedly.

“What of this man…” Zeus looked at Athena in question.

“Ariston. Ariston of Rhodes,” Athena said, her voice low. “He is deserving of more from a wife, a better wife than Medusa. I did him a favor…”

“Surely he will find another willing woman to wife?” Apollo was unconcerned.