‘The Gorgon’s head will fit perfectly within it, as will any other treasure you hold.’ Deino told him. Perseus turned the bag around in his hand. The lightness of it was beyond belief.
‘This is the work of the gods?’ he said, although the obviousness of his words felt foolish as they left his lips.
‘It is.’ The Graeae said, and for the first time since his arrival in the cave, she locked the single eye squarely on his. ‘Now you’ve got what you want,’ she spat. ‘Get out of here.’
Chapter 26
Days turned into weeks. The grey seas caused them to lose their way and turn back on themselves, again and again. Thick clouds shrouded the stars at night, stealing their source of navigation. During the day, only a dusky glow of sunlight could help guide them on their way. Then one day, it all lifted.
The relief that the crew felt at a cerulean sky was not shared by their captain. Perseus could feel the event looming on the horizon, a static hum that buzzed in the air around him, warning him of his impending doom. Every day spent at sea was a day closer to meeting the Gorgon.
That night, the stars glinted in the clear sky. The sea rippled, an inky pool around the ship. He knew it would not be long. Just like he knew that one of his siblings would appear to him one last time before he reached his fate. In his heart, he had hoped for Athena, her wisdom and knowledge of battle was what he needed to encourage him. But the colour that glinted in the sky was gold, not grey.
‘I hear you gave the Graeae a scare.’ Hermes perched himself on the edge of the stern with a casual arrogance Perseus had grown to associate with him.
‘Me? I think it was the other way around. For blind old women, they can move quickly.’
‘Oh, I know. But you succeeded in your first task. You must be feeling just a little bit confident.’ Perseus dwelled on the thought for a moment. It was luck rather than judgement that had helped him succeed with the Graeae without bloodshed, and he was not naive enough to think otherwise.
‘So,’ Hermes ended the moment of contemplation. ‘With that little job over and done, are you prepared for what will come next?’
‘For the Gorgons, can anyone be prepared?’
‘Gorgon,’ Hermes said, emphasising the singularity of the word.
‘Gorgon? There will only be one? How do you know?’ It had been a thought playing on his mind since he had first left Seriphos, although he had refused to voice his concern, even to his men on the ship. Sometimes, when he caught their eyes, he swore they were having the exact same thought. He was to bring Polydectes the head of Medusa, but she was only one Gorgon. There was a distinct possibility that he would never even make it to their Queen. If they were anything like the Graeae, the three may well be bonded at the hip.
‘The sisters took flight.’ Hermes once again demonstrated his irritating ability of voicing Perseus’ thoughts before he had spoken them. ‘Three weeks past now since they left the island. If my information is correct, they are terrorising ships around the Diapontia.’
‘And when will they be back?’
‘Who can tell? I’m sure if the gods are your side, you should get ample time. How long does it take to sneak into a cave and decapitate a priestess?’ He winked as he spoke.
‘A priestess?’
‘A priestess?’ Hermes’ head shook a little. ‘What a strange choice of word. Forgive me. Clearly, I have gone too long without a women’s touch if I have priestesses on my mind. As I was saying, it will not take long to behead one single beast, I am sure.’
Perseus twisted his lips, not sure how to respond. Leaning over, Hermes began to unbuckle the straps of his sandals.
‘The Gorgon, she is born from the sea, isn’t she?’
Hermes’ eyes narrowed. ‘Monsters of the sea. Is that what they say? And why not? It is as good a story as any.’
‘I am grateful that I will not have to tackle her in the water.’ A hint of fear pulsed through Perseus. ‘I won’t, will I?’
Hermes laughed. ‘I sincerely doubt it, brother. I sincerely doubt it. Now,’ he said, the twinkle firmly back in his eye. ‘How about one last gift? Then, I’ll let you be on your way.’
Medusa had taken advantage of the quiet and partaken in a few days pruning. Century after century, the figures stacked up, one after another after another. Many were forced from statue to shingle at the will of the gods; the sun’s heat made stone turn brittle, ice and snow weakened it further still, and a good storm could see tens of figures turned into dust with just a few days of solid rain and wind. Others were victims of Stheno and Euryale’s boredom during the quiet years.
Like cats who continued to play and decimate a dead mouse’s carcass, her sisters would take pleasure in the stone effigies that decorated their garden. Sometimes they would use their talons to scrape crude drawings into the stone bodies. Other times, they would make use of the hundreds of discarded weapons that were dropped in the spray as those with more sense ran back to their ships only moments after setting foot on the shingle shore. They never made it, though. The ones that ran were always Euryale’s favourites. She would swoop and dive back and forth, taunting them for as long as possible before finally turning them to stone.
Many of the statues in the garden were without arms, or heads, or whatever else the sisters swung the blades at when the fancy took them. At least headless meant Medusa no longer felt the weight of their hollow gazes; all the fear a man could ever know was directed towards
