Stone Blind(78)

The planned wedding was now imminent, and the hated king sent messengers each day with one thing or another: a dress she must wear, a bracelet she would like. Dictys flinched with every new arrival. Dana? piled them up in a corner and put an old fishing net over them so they didn’t have to see his brother’s influence as they went about their day. She supposed the dress would smell of fish now, but she was used to that, living in a fisherman’s home. And she still hoped not to wear it, though her hope was wearing thinner with every hour that passed.

And now so many hours had passed that the wedding was due to take place tomorrow. Polydectes would present himself to his bride in person, the pompous messenger told her on her final day of freedom. She must ensure she had packed any possessions she wanted to take with her (at this point, the messenger could not prevent a sneer as he looked at the humble cottage). Because she would not be returning here and Dictys would not be welcome at the palace. So – he explained slowly, as though she might not understand him – anything she left behind would be lost to her for good.

She nodded wearily and turned to look again at the distant sea, but after the messenger left, she found she could not endure watching for the boats to come in and one man to climb the hill to their home alone. She waited inside to greet Dictys – as she had in old times – willing herself to hide her sadness when she saw his brown, lined face break into a tired smile.

The boats were back later today, she thought, eyeing the shadows as they moved across the floor. She would never see these shadows, this light, again. She picked up a broom irritably. She was not going to cry about the floor. Zeus would save her or he wouldn’t and that was all there was to it.

Eventually, she heard his slow footsteps as he approached the house. He was carrying a heavy catch today, she thought, or his stride would be quicker and lighter. She turned to the doorway and beheld the face of a young man who looked as familiar as her reflection and as unknown as a stranger. But she had no time to consider this paradox because he was already in her arms, sobbing with relief.





Gorgoneion


The day of the wedding has arrived but Dana? will not have to marry the king. The light is sharp and ruthless. The king—

Do you even need me to tell you all this? You already know what happens. The king arrives to claim his unwilling bride. His corpulent face is disappointed and astonished in equal measure when he sees Perseus has returned to defend her. He makes snide remarks, but you can hear the unease in his voice. He sent a boy away on a hero’s quest, and the fool claims he has come back with the prize.

That would be me, in case you have forgotten.

The king is all bluster and feigned disbelief. Perseus is full of anger. His mother is quiet; Dictys lays a protective hand on her arm.

The king – who is even more stupid than Perseus, or at least equally ignorant – asks to see his prize. Perseus milks this moment, building the tension by taking his time to find the kibisis, to loosen the tassels that hold it closed, to reach inside. He tells his mother and Dictys to turn away. They don’t ask questions, just do as he says. There is a perceptible sense of triumph and relief about him since he returned home. This is what he has been missing, then: the simple experience of being heard and heeded. I wonder if he has chosen a wife who will provide him with that, in Andromeda.

The king scoffs at the precautions taken by his brother and his intended. What are they afraid of? Perseus must have really fulfilled his promise, and so on.

And then, as you could surely have guessed, he catches sight of me and he says nothing ever again. Three of his bodyguards are looking in the same direction, and they petrify in the same instant. The others – seeing their comrades are now statues and their king is dead – run for their lives.

As he returns me to the bag, Perseus remarks that he will leave the men where they stand as a warning to others.

The last thing I hear is Dictys, calmly responding to the death of his brother by saying he would prefer it if they took the statues away and buried them under the sand. Perseus agrees reluctantly, but they bury them all, just the same.





Hera


‘I wonder if it’s a good precedent to set, my love.’ Hera stood behind Zeus as she stroked her husband’s shoulders, so he wouldn’t see her expression of disdain.

‘I’m sure it is,’ he replied. Hera waited. ‘What precedent?’

‘Your bastard son,’ she said. Even though she could not see his face, she knew his eyes were darting from place to place, trying to work out which one she meant, and whether she had only just discovered him. ‘Perseus has just killed the king of Seriphos.’

‘Oh, good,’ said Zeus. His wife’s grip tightened briefly but she didn’t speak. Zeus thought for a moment. ‘He was a very unjust king,’ he said. ‘The islanders have prayed for deliverance for some time.’

‘I see,’ said Hera. ‘Well, then, I’m sure I don’t need to worry.’

‘No,’ said her husband. ‘Why were you worrying?’

‘Nothing, really,’ she replied. ‘I just wondered if it was a good idea to allow young upstarts to go around killing kings and face no penalty.’

‘He’s my son,’ said Zeus. ‘He can do whatever he likes, within reason.’

‘I thought this might be without reason,’ Hera said. ‘The king seems to have done nothing beyond decide to marry some woman, and it’s difficult to imagine anyone could have resented that.’