Stone Blind(31)

Gradually, Medusa’s sobs eased.

‘Did the snakes just appear?’ asked Sthenno.

‘No,’ Medusa said. ‘She made them.’

‘Who?’

‘I’m not sure,’ she replied. ‘A goddess. She was here, in the cave. She was angry with me. It might have been . . .’ Her voice died.

‘We know who it was,’ Euryale said. ‘Vengeful and cruel, always blaming women for what men do to them. She has always been like this. You know she has.’

‘Yes,’ Sthenno agreed. She did know. So did Medusa, she just couldn’t bring herself to say it. ‘You’ll grow used to the snakes, dearest,’ she said, squeezing Medusa’s shoulders once again. ‘You’ve never minded ours. I know you’ll miss your hair for a while, but it will be alright, I promise.’

‘I know.’ Medusa still buried her head in the crook of her arm, but her shoulders had relaxed a little.

‘Do they hurt?’ asked Euryale. Medusa’s snakes shivered, as though they understood the possible threat.

‘No,’ Medusa replied. ‘They did at first, a lot. Or it might have been my hair getting torn out that hurt so much. I couldn’t tell: it all happened at once. But no, they don’t hurt now.’

‘There,’ said Sthenno. ‘So it’s getting better, even though it isn’t good.’

‘It’s my eyes that hurt,’ said her sister. ‘I can’t open them.’





The Graiai


Perseus had left his mother and Dictys behind with a great show of confidence. Dictys had offered to lend the boy his boat, but Perseus had to refuse him. He could not deprive the old man of his livelihood: what if he never returned? There were no spare vessels among the fishermen, who tended to use all the materials they had to repair the boats they loved. And even if Perseus had a supply of wood available to him, he didn’t have time to make a boat. He had less than two months to do the impossible.

Since no one knew where to find the head of a Gorgon, his mother suggested he ask his father for advice. Perseus did not know exactly how to do this and his mother could not really advise him. Dana? had attracted Zeus’s attention while locked in a cellar, but Perseus had never managed to do so at all. In the end, he decided he should head inland, and try to find a sacred grove, or a temple. Perhaps then he could make his offerings to Zeus and receive help.

He set off across the island, avoiding the well-worn paths that would take him to the palace of the king, and asking everyone he met if they knew of a place sacred to the king of the gods. Some had no answer, one or two told him to keep walking and he would come to the place he sought. But after several days of slow and dusty travel, he felt no closer to his father or any answer to his problems. If anything, he felt further away. Wherever the Gorgons lived, he was sure it wasn’t on Seriphos: why would Polydectes ask for something that was close to home? So travelling away from the sea had been a fool’s choice. He berated himself for having wasted time discovering nothing.

*

He had been climbing steadily for days, but now the ground was falling away beneath him. He wondered if this meant he was heading back towards the sea. Had he crossed the whole island? He was filled with despair. The trees had thinned as the land grew higher, but now they seemed to be increasing again, and the undergrowth beneath them was thickening too. His way grew more difficult and he had seen no other travellers all day. Even the birds had stopped singing, as though they knew he was going the wrong way and couldn’t bear to watch. He found himself in a small clearing. Large trees surrounded him, but one had lost a huge branch, which lay across the open space, tempting him to sit and rest.

He sat and unstopped his wineskin. The wine had long since run out, but he had filled it at a spring earlier and the water was cool and sweet. He looked down, idly kicking pine cones away from his feet. The branch had lain here for a long time, he saw. There was no smell of burning, but it had been sheared away from its tree by lightning: the end of the branch was still black. Curious, he moved closer to look at the damage, and saw smaller branches covered with burned pine cones: blackened on the outside, but still bright terracotta within. He reached down to pick one up and see if the soot came off on his hands.

‘Do you think the pine cones can tell you where the Gorgons live?’ asked a voice. Perseus jumped. He had heard no footsteps. When he was walking, that was all he heard: the sound of his own weight crushing twigs and seeds beneath him. But now he looked up and saw not one, but two fellow travellers. Except he knew somehow that they were not travellers. Afterwards, he wondered what had made him think that, but he couldn’t be sure. It was something about their posture or lack of possessions, he didn’t know. He had learned to assess travellers by how well or ill prepared they appeared for whatever was to come. These two looked like what was to come would have to prepare for them. Their clothes were pristine and their faces serene, showing no signs of fatigue: they had not lain down on a bed of leaves last night.

‘No,’ he said, staring at them. He assumed they had been sent by Polydectes to follow him and taunt him for this early failure. He did not want to give the king’s servants – were they siblings? They looked similar and yet unalike, he could not quite make sense of it – the satisfaction of seeing his despair. He certainly didn’t want the king to find out that he was doing everything wrong.