‘Before I show you this, please remember that I am still me.’
The small candle seemed to burn brighter than ever. An overwhelming pounding had seized her body. The serpents grew more restless with every passing breath, and their nerves filtered down into her own, multiplying them further still. She wanted to wait, to wait until the pounding in her heart had subsided, and the fear lessened, but for that to happen even an eternity would not be long enough.
‘It is me,’ she said, her head still bowed, and her eyes fixed on the floor. ‘Remember that I am still your little girl.’
With a sweep of her arm, she pulled the scarf away from her head.
‘Gods above.’ Aretaphila cried as she collapsed into her husband’s arms. ‘How can this be?’ The rise in her voice shook the serpents, which hissed and spat, a writhing mass of scales and darting tongues.
Chapter 10
Medusa remained motionless with her head bowed, hands trembling as they clutched at the frayed tatters of her gown. Heavy tears dripped down to her feet as the serpents struggled in her mane, pulling at the skin.
‘You see. This is the curse. This is what she did to me.’
Aretaphila took a step backwards, shaking her head. Fear evident from her breathing.
‘You must have provoked her. You must have misled the man. You must have —’
Medusa lurched forwards. ‘No. Mother, no. I swear I did nothing. All happened as I told you.’ Her mother jolted in fear, freezing Medusa to the spot. ‘Please, I swear on your life. On Stheno and Euryale’s —’
‘For the Goddess to curse you like this. It is not possible. Not unless —’
‘Please …’ Her voice was that of a child’s begging for their parents’ belief. ‘I did nothing. You must believe me.’
‘Hideou—’
‘Aretaphila!’ Thales’ voice shook the air. His fists were clenched, the white bone of the knuckles glistening through papyrus skin. ‘Our child has come to us. She has trusted us.’
‘No, she is tricking us. Surely you see, no god would cast such retribution without reason.’
The acerbity and recrimination in her mother’s voice was sharper and more biting than the serpents could ever be. But Medusa did not blame her. When faced with a monster, who ever looked to see beyond the teeth and talons?
‘You see,’ Medusa said as she clenched her eyes shut, the fear of seeing the disappointment in her parents’ faces more than she could bear. ‘It is the worst of curses to have befallen. In all the history of the gods, have you seen anything like this?’
‘Medusa …’
‘Father, I am no longer a woman. I am a beast. A hideous monster.’
Through her closed eyes, more tears escaped. She did not worry herself to brush them aside. Tears were of little concern to one whose eternity had been shattered. Words had finished. There was nothing more to say. In the forced silence, Medusa waited, although for what she did not know. Perhaps the prick of a pitchfork as her parents forced her out into the darkness. Perhaps, sharper still, a knife through the heart or across the throat. Her father had killed sheep and goats. He would know how to make it quick. As painless as possible, if they would grant her that small mercy. Her mother’s whimpers filled the air. Was that to be the last sound she was to hear? What she wouldn’t give for the sound of her mother’s gentle song instead. Singing or laughter. She waited for the thunder, the screams, and the pain. Instead, what came was softness.
‘You have been cursed,’ Thales said. ‘But it is not damnation.’
He walked forwards. He took the candle from the table and stepped towards his daughter. In the flickering of the light, her snakes stood erectly to hiss and bare their fangs. If Thales noticed their aggression, he did not show it. He moved beside his daughter and rested his palm to her cheek. The snakes moaned, low and groaning, whether of anger or pleasure, Medusa could not tell, for while they did not strike, they did not withdraw.
‘You have been cursed,’ he said. ‘There is no denying that this curse is … terrible. You committed your life to the temple and those that you trusted deserted you when you needed them the most. But I will let you know this and hear this, for it is true. While you have been cursed by your goddess, I have been blessed, because you have been returned.’
Medusa snorted. ‘I have returned to you like this, as a monster.’
‘When did a daughter of mine learn to judge people by the colour of their hair?’ Thales joked. ‘I thought I had raised you better than that.’ The laughter which he provided stopped almost before it had started, although a tiny glimmer of hope flickered in Medusa’s heart. ‘Athena is wise, Medusa,’ Thales continued. ‘She will realise the error of her way. Believe me, my child. This will not be forever. When the time comes, she will return you as you were.’
‘But if you are wrong —’
‘I am not.’
‘But if you are —’
‘I tell you the truth, my love. I would bet my life on it. You served the Goddess with nothing but love. She will realise her mistake. She will rectify this.’
Medusa’s tears fell in heavy droplets, making dark circles in the earth. Her juddering breaths, a constant rhythm masking the sound of her serpents.
‘You are home, my daughter. You are home, and we will be with you.’ Cupping her chin with his hands, he lifted her head. Her eyes, glazed with tears, blinked until they cleared and met perfectly with her father’s.
Chapter 11
The smile on his lips hardened and froze there, so familiar and reassuring that Medusa had no choice but to follow suit. Small, but certain, her own mouth curved upwards in a reflection of her father’s as she awaited further words
