Stone Blind(74)

I look out over the ocean, the expanse sparkling before me, and I feel no fear, not of Poseidon, or Athene or the creature. And then it rises again, dark limbs everywhere. I look to the centre, because that must be its head, but it is hard to tell as each part of it looks like the rest: a rippling mass of muscle. The light falling on it is so bright it is dazzling and I cannot tell if I am looking into its eyes or not.

But I am. Its gaze has met mine and it is frozen into stillness. I wonder, how will this one die? Will it turn into a statue like the birds and the shepherd? Or a mountain like the Titan? Will it be left here for ever, a tribute to my great power? Or will it be remembered as a marker of Perseus’s power? Will it sink beneath the waves? I don’t want Perseus to be remembered at all, but it is too late now because the creature is petrifying limb by limb, from the tip of each tentacle towards the core. Its glittering black flesh becomes dull grey stone and I know I have saved the life of the sacrifice even if Perseus claims the credit. The creature writhes as its extremities go numb and I see that the weight of each limb is dragging it beneath the waves. It has only moments left before it is solid rock.

And suddenly I see its eyes. And I recognize them.





Andromeda


The princess stood with her mouth agape. All thoughts of the discomfort of her tied wrists were gone. The salt water that had washed over her moments earlier had left her eyes stinging, but she didn’t think about that either. The proximity of death had pushed everything else from her mind, and then suddenly she was saved by a stranger. Or by whatever the stranger was holding. She looked at his back and tried to blink away the water that obscured her vision. But nothing changed what she thought she had seen: a flying man holding a handful of snakes which had apparently turned the monster to stone.

As her eyes focused, she still saw a man seeming to hover over the sea, as he pushed his snakes back into a golden bag slung over one shoulder. The monster was slipping beneath the surface and, now that the danger was past, the man turned back towards her. He was, she saw, very young. As young as her. Half the age of Phineus. His hair was a damp black mess, but she suspected he had curls. His short tunic revealed muscular arms and legs, in every way unlike those of her uncle. And he had rescued her from certain death.

He flew to her and untied her hands. Even if she had had the strength to stand, she would have fallen into his arms. Exhaustion, gratitude, and the absolute need to convey that she was no longer promised to a much older man: all these contributed to her collapse.

‘Thank you, sir,’ she said. And he smiled.

‘How did you end up in this position?’ he asked. She liked his dark, darting eyes and the way he seemed to have no other interest but her. He didn’t even know she was a princess. He had not even seen her mother.

‘The priests made me sacrifice,’ she said. His brow creased. ‘I mean, they made me into their sacrifice,’ she clarified. ‘They didn’t ask me to make a sacrifice and everything went wrong.’

He nodded. She assumed he was befuddled by her beauty, but she wasn’t sure until he reached up and straightened her diadem.

‘I am Andromeda,’ she said.

‘I’m Perseus,’ he replied. ‘Who is your father?’

‘Cepheus, king of the Ethiopians,’ she said.

‘I see.’ He brightened. ‘I will kill these priests for you, and then perhaps you would introduce me to your parents?’

Andromeda thought about saying that killing the priests was unnecessary, and that she would rather he met her parents straightaway. But on brief reflection she realized she did want the two priests to die, so she nodded in happy agreement. Perseus helped her to a smaller rock so she could sit and recover. He liked the way she accepted everything he said. Finally someone took him seriously. The first time since he had left his mother. And all he had had to do was save her from certain death. Killing two more men would not be hard, he thought. It was perhaps rather crowded here to use the head, but he had his harpē, and that would be enough. They could hardly outrun him when he was wearing the winged sandals.

‘Wait here,’ he said. ‘I’ll return shortly.’

Andromeda watched his tunic fluttering as he stepped away from her. She half wanted to disregard him and see the priests meet their premature end. But she didn’t want Perseus to think she would be the kind of wife who ignores her husband. It would be better, wouldn’t it, if he thought she was the kind of woman who needed rescuing, and to be kept away from killing? Perhaps it would even be better to be that woman, rather than merely to be thought so. Her mother had taken an influential role alongside Cepheus, and look where that had got everyone: half the kingdom lost and Andromeda almost dead. Andromeda must be more careful than that. And anyway, she didn’t want to scare the boy.





Panopeia


Now the place where Ethiopia meets Oceanus has changed. The furthest sea reaches further than it once did. But still, Perseus has found his way here. Andromeda is saved, which will not please the raging Nereids, not one bit. They finally persuade Poseidon to act as they demand, and their sacrifice is stolen at the last moment. So what happens now?

The Nereids might ask for another sacrifice, but Poseidon will not heed them a second time. He has his larger sea, which is all he wanted. Even the angriest Nereids – though they may not like it – will have to accept that their chance for retribution is gone, because it is the son of Zeus himself who has taken their prize away. They will not set themselves against the king of the gods and nor will Poseidon, on their behalf. Their grudge may be unsatisfied, but it is over nonetheless.