Ridding herself of the statues was never easy. Her hatred and pity for the men who had come to kill her were as indivisible as those same emotions she felt for her sisters. So, she took her time, disposing of them one by one.
The sounds of waves breaking into foam drifted to her ears as she reached her hand up to one of the statues. Gingerly, she touched the place where his hair would once have flowed. A second later, she grabbed him around the throat and hoisted him up. One by one, she dragged them to the edge of the cliff and flung them off the side, watching as their human form shattered into pieces.
Her work was slow. The cool air made her snakes sluggish and irritable. They fought among themselves although, often, she ended up the victim of their aggression. Their manner reminded her of siblings – normal human siblings – who bickered and quarrelled only to cry out in distress should they have to be parted. Not that the snakes could be parted, of course. Thoughts of her siblings led to thoughts of her parents, which slowed her work even more. They would have been in the underworld for millennia now, their names forgotten by every living person on earth. Assuming they had had a burial, of course. It was a thought that tormented her often. Another act in which she had failed.
Her distracted mind meant she had failed to drag even half the statues to the edge of the cliff by the time the sun was on its downwards arc. With her sisters gone, no doubt she would have more time tomorrow to finish the rest. Gazing at the sea, she tilted her head, and for the first time that day, she noticed the change in the wind. Static filled the air. An invisible charge that swarmed around her in dizzying currents. Her snakes could feel it too. They quietened, pressing their bodies against her like they were preparing for a fight. She knew what it was. She could smell it in the air just the same as them. Another hero was on their way.
He checked the strap on the shield for the third time and then the fourth. He still wasn’t familiar with the nuances of shields; before this time, he had never had the need, and the only ones he had held on Seriphos had been the makeshift toys of boys playing with wooden swords. Even sparring on the ship, he had quickly abandoned the use of one, relying instead on his nimble feet to dodge his opponent’s blade. But, inexperienced or not, he wasn’t stupid. He knew Athena would not have given him such a gift without a reason, and up until this point, he had put absolute faith in his sister. Yet, that afternoon, with the island growing ever larger on the horizon, he felt less than fully assured by the armour’s lightness. The thinness of the metal now seemed impractical, like it could be pierced by a single snakebite, let alone the dozens he was soon to encounter. Hopefully, he would not get close enough for them to strike. And at least she would not hear him coming. Hermes’ sandals should see to that. With the sword too, he couldn’t help but think that the only weak link in his armoury supplied by the gods to kill Medusa was himself.
With the ship anchored in the bay, Perseus readied the small rowing boat for himself. Many of his men had volunteered to come with him. He suspected they all would, even without the duress of a direct order, but he chose to make the journey on his own. Better that only one life be lost. His strength and skill now surpassed even the best of his crew. If he was unable to succeed in the mission, it was impossible to imagine that one of his men would. Better that they had their sails up and ready to depart before the sisters returned and cast them all in stone for his stupidity.
‘If I succeed, I will return before the first rays of sunrise,’ he told them before he left. ‘You will see my boat leaving from the shore. If I am not within your sight before the sun breaks the horizon, go. Do not wait. Do not, under any circumstances, follow me to the island. Leave. Sail fast. You will have the gods on your side and the wind at your back. When you reach land, build an altar to the gods in my name. To my father. My siblings. If I do not succeed in my task, it will be of my inadequacies, not theirs. You will be free men. By Athena’s will, sell this boat and split the proceeds among you. It will see you all rich men.’
It would be a true test of their loyalty, Perseus considered, to see whether they were pleased to see him return or not.
They nodded and held his gaze. A few tentative smiles made their way to him. They were, he realised as he rowed his boat away from his men and towards his destiny, possibly the last smiles he would ever see.
Only one this time. She had seen him, standing on the edge of the boat, addressing his crew. It was not uncommon. She had seen this before. Listened in enough times to know that they said the same things, some with a little more eloquence and some with a lot more folly and crudity than others. They all spoke of glory. Of unimaginable riches and rewards that would be afforded them when they succeeded in bringing home her head. Many mentioned the women who would either fall at their feet or men who
