Medusa, A Love Story (The Loves of Olympus) (36 page)

The serpents wrapped their bodies about her arm, pinning her down. A rain of fangs and venom showered the side of her face and arms. Yet, she made no move to protect herself. It didn’t matter, not really.

She lay still.

“Medusa,” Euryale was sobbing in earnest now. “Please stop.”

“Let us tend your injury,” Stheno cried, too.

“No,” she whispered. “They would bite you…hurt you… I can take no more.” She turned her head, away from them.

She opened her eyes. 

He was beautiful.

Her tears and blood blurred his face, but she’d no strength to wipe them away. She drew in breath and raised her trembling hand. The effort was great, for there was none of her that did not hurt. But she reached for him, touching his cheek. “I can take no more.”

###

Her feet had been so cold.

The bones in her ankle had been prominent, fragile. Clearly traceable beneath his seeking fingers.

“You are not dead, Ariston.” Hades voice stirred him from his thoughts. The God sat in his chair, before a roaring fire. “But you are not alive either.”

He cared little for Hades’ words.

Gone was the sun-kissed gold he remembered, the soft lush curves he’d caressed. She was too thin, her curves replaced with sharp angles. Her skin was so pale it was almost translucent. But her pulse had throbbed steadily in her throat, giving him some sense of ease.

Hades cleared his throat. “I would have you stay in my home until this farce is finally over.”

Ariston inclined his head, absently, his mind racing.

She was still his love. In those moments of waking, she had leaned into his touch and sighed in pleasure. Until she’d opened her eyes and discovered he was not a dream.

“If you love me, you will go now. I would have you live. Please. For once they wake, I cannot stop them…” she’d pleaded.

“Wine?” Hades offered, holding a goblet towards him.

Ariston stared at the cup, taking it when Hades pressed it into his hand. “Thank you.”

He had been too long without her. He could not look away from her or hear the warning she’d tried repeatedly to give him. His eyes had feasted on her face, noting the long scar that ran across her forehead and the dozens of small punctures, bites of some sort, dotting her temples and jaw.

The blue of her eyes had not dimmed and the curve of her lips had been too great a temptation to resist. As his lips had found hers, her scent assailed him.

His fingers contracted about the goblet, cracking the stoneware. “She has suffered more than
any
should suffer,” he ground out.

Hades’ heavy-lidded eyes met his, though his face revealed nothing. “You both have.”

Red eyes.

They’d risen from the dark veils she wore, bobbing and swaying together as they fastened their attention on him. And coldness had seeped into his bones, binding him in place. His feet and legs, his body and arms, his chest grew heavy and prevented him from drawing in breath.

She was weeping beneath him, her sobs pure agony. He’d closed his eyes against her torture. And then, he could not open them.

He’d heard her scream. “No…”

And then he’d opened his eyes and found himself here, with Hades.

“What offense did she commit to…to warrant such a punishment?”

Hades sat back in his chair, “I avoid Olympus, Ariston. I find it taxing more often than not. I know Medusa lay with Poseidon to protect you. When she learned of your death she went to Athena. She quarreled with the Goddess, something few have dared before. And in doing so she let loose Athena’s wrath.” Hades took a sip of his drink.

“Is there no reprieve?” Ariston asked.

“There is nothing you can do,” Hades shook his head. “Perseus comes soon. He will leave a hero and she will be free at last.”

He swallowed. “I cannot stand by and let her die…”

Hades stared at him. “You have no choice.”

“You cannot…”

Hades rose, his face devoid of any expression. “You would set her free. And soon she shall be. What life would she have, even if the curse was broken? Mayhap Olympus will favor her for all she has endured. She has a part to play in Perseus’ tale.”

Ariston tried to draw in breath, but his lungs felt tight.

“And with her death, you are free,” Hades added.

He turned to the God of the Underworld. “Let me stay.”

“The Land of the Dead is for the dead, Ariston.” Hades crossed to the fireplace. His brow furrowed as he peered at a wilting bloom pinned on a white satin pillow. He stroked the stem with a hesitant finger and then drew back. “As you want her freedom, she would give you yours.”

Ariston’s eyes lingered on the flower, recalling the flash of tenderness he’d seen on Hades’ face. He had to try once more. “Life and freedom mean nothing without her.”

###

Poseidon watched, anxious for this to be behind him. As was Athena, he thought, and Zeus. Each of them had their own design for the day’s impending events.

“He has
some
skill with a sword,” Ares sounded skeptical.

“Enough?” Zeus asked.

Ares’ brow lifted and he shrugged.

“Have Hermes take this to him.” Athena held forth her golden aspis. “To keep him safe and give us eyes. We will see what he sees, hear what he hears.”

If Athena grieved for her favorite priestess, Poseidon saw no evidence of it. Perhaps Athena longed to forget Medusa – as he did. Her death would speed the forgetting.

Zeus took the shield, nodding at his daughter. “My thanks, Athena.”

“He will have your helmet?” Hera asked. “If he is invisible to her serpents, he will have the advantage.”

Hermes nodded. “He will. My helmet and Athena’s shield…”

“And this.” Zeus handed Hermes a sword, sheathed in a scabbard of gold. “Hephaestus made quick work of it. It will cut clean and true.”

Hera smiled. “He will not fail.”

So Hera had yet to learn of Perseus’ sire?
If she had, Poseidon knew she would throw his gifts from Olympus and champion Medusa.

“And Ariston?” Aphrodite asked.

“He is In-Between,” Apollo answered. “Hades has him, for safe keeping I think.”

Poseidon wondered at this announcement. Hades vowed never to meddle in the mortal realm. Hades came to Olympus so infrequently because he despised the sport his brethren made of mortals.

“Hades is sheltering Ariston?” Poseidon voiced.

“It astounds you that your brother would find some mercy for the man?” Aphrodite asked. “Have you all forgotten what this man has done? For Greece? And for his wife?”

Hera sighed. “No one has forgotten.”

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.”