‘She is a monster, brother, not some deer you have stalked in the forest. You will kill her however you can, but I would not risk a time when her eyes are open.’
Nodding as he listened, he brushed his hand over the polished silver, hoping that, somehow, the answers lay hidden beneath its surface. That night, he repeated the same circular strokes.
With a heavy groan, Perseus hung the shield back on the wall, abandoned his quarters, and headed for the deck.
The heat of the night was just as oppressive in the open, with no gentle breeze or rushing billow of the sails to cool him. He considered jumping overboard, plunging himself into the cool water for just a moment of relief. After all, low winds had to be good for something, and he was a strong swimmer. At this current rate of motion, he would be able to hold his pace with the boat for a short while, at least.
‘Not a good idea.’ A voice caused him to jump. ‘There are only so many times Poseidon will save you from the water. Particularly if you do something as stupid as jump.’
His hair was knotted in tight curls which, despite only moonlight above them, shone like the midday sun. In his hand, he held a staff of twisted snakes and wings. Around his ankles, he wore leather sandals adorned with wings so white they could have been made from fresh snow.
‘Hermes?’ Perseus found himself breathless in the presence of another sibling. Another god. He stared at the fluttering sandals, then at the caduceus in his hand before remembering his place and dropping to his knees. ‘You honour me with your visit.’
The god’s eyes twinkled. With a strong flap of the wings, he perched himself on the guard rail of the ship. ‘I suspect I do, yes.’ He grinned. ‘Well, brother, you are quite the talk up on Olympus. Quite the talk.’
‘I am?’ Perseus spoke from the ground. In the mere moments he had known his sibling, he had come to suspect that Hermes was not the type who would tell a kneeling man to rise. His options, therefore, were to rise without waiting to be asked – and risk his half-brother’s wrath – or risk his knees growing numb on the splintered wood of the deck. After brief contemplation, he chose the former and slowly levered himself to standing.
Offering no rebuke, Hermes made no attempt to hide his intrigue as he surveyed Perseus in unnerving detail. Scanning up and down his body, his chin nodded slightly, his lips parting in a grin. ‘You are becoming quite the hero, aren’t you?’
His grin widened further still. The expression was far from the wry smile of his sister; it was an expression that suggested fun and frivolity. Yet somehow, it still managed to show the same level of concealment and pensiveness that Athena’s had. Realising he had not replied, and yet still unsure of what to say, Perseus opened his mouth to speak. Hermes’ laugh stopped him.
‘Don’t worry. I’m not here to put any pressure on you. That’s the role of the others. Actually, I came to offer a little bit of assistance. I saw that Athena gave you the shield. Sensible thinking. Now tell me, how do you suppose you will remove the monster’s head from her neck?’
‘How?’ Perseus puzzled. ‘With a sword. I have with me a xiphos that —’
‘A xiphos?’ Hermes’ eyebrow slanted upwards. ‘I feared as much. And tell me. If you do manage to remove the head with this mortal weapon, how then do you suppose you will carry it from her cave and back to Seriphos without turning yourself and your crew to stone?’
The moisture was rapidly drying from Perseus’ mouth. Whether the questions were asked in good nature or as a trick was irrelevant. It was yet another aspect of the voyage that he was ill-prepared for. Reading his face, Hermes lifted his hand and placed it on Perseus’ shoulder.
‘Do not fear, brother, we are family. I am here to help you. You think Athena is the only one who can bestow gifts and patronise her heroes?’ Despite the assurances, Perseus felt the knots in his stomach grow tighter, not looser. ‘Tell me, brother.’ Hermes continued. ‘Have you heard of the Graeae?’
Chapter 24
His men changed their course without a single question. There was no point waiting until the morning; time on the wrong path may have proved unsalvageable, so with the God still aboard, he ordered his men to adjust accordingly.
‘It will be a nice test for you,’ Hermes had said, apparently oblivious to Perseus’ discomfort at his presence. ‘This little trip to the Grey Sisters may prove the making of you.’ While feigning the act of a hero among men was something he felt he had mastered in these last months at sea, feigning heroism in front of a god was not something at which he was skilled. Greater muscles or not, his insides continued to twist and writhe.
‘With the gods’ blessings, the journey there will be swift,’ he replied.
‘You are in a hurry, aren’t you?’
‘I am. I have to be. My, my ...’ Perseus considered mentioning his mother’s name, only to close his mouth and keep the thought to himself. Hermes would already know of the event that had led him here, yet he had not discussed the matter with his crew and had no mind to do so. In their minds, he was another hero hungry for fame and glory, just with a slightly more impressive lineage.
His heart throbbed at the thought of this journey to the Graeae. Another task meant more time away from Seriphos, which in turn meant leaving his mother even longer at the hands of Polydectes. How long would it be before Polydectes announced Perseus as dead and took Danae as his wife anyway? A man like him did not need evidence in a matter if it served a better outcome for himself.
‘You
