‘Priestess?’ The same word used by Hermes. ‘You were a priestess for the Goddess?’
A short silence followed. His pulse became erratic. His sword remained poised, fingers twitching at the spare dagger at his side.
‘Tell me, Perseus.’ The Gorgon Priestess spoke. ‘Are you a man of the world?’
He cleared his throat. ‘I am the captain of my ship. I have voyaged from Seriphos to here —’
‘And on this voyage.’ She cut through his words before he had a chance to finish. ‘Your men; was their behaviour fitting? Manly? Did they cast their power outwards, laud it over the women at the docks who fluttered eyelashes at them?’
‘My men are good men. Our journey has been long. We have not made port for many weeks.’
‘But when they did? They expressed their freedom, I suspect? How widely? Did they make claims? What about the women who didn’t seek out their gazes? Were they left in peace or harangued and harassed for your men’s gratification?’
‘A man …’ Perseus stepped forwards, finally deducing the meaning of her riddles. ‘A man forced himself upon you?’
‘A man?’ She snorted. The sound of her derision riled the snakes, causing them to hiss with such venom that the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. ‘You think a man would dare desecrate the temple of a god in such a manner? To defile anything sacred to one of the gods? Would one of your men?’ This time, he knew there was no need to answer. No man in his right mind would ever consider such a thing.
‘A god?’ He whispered.
‘Yes.’ The single word expelled in a bloom of air. ‘Yes. It was a god, who forced himself upon me in such a manner that would make your innocent eyes look away in terror. It was a god who bloodied my body and broke my will. And it was another god, a goddess, who tore apart everything I had left. Your uncle and your sister took everything I had.’
‘Athena?’
She did not indulge him with a reply.
‘Gods do not pay the price for their wrongdoings, Perseus. Mortals do. The gods, like the rich of the world, push their agendas onto those whose voices are not loud enough to speak for themselves. The women. The weak. The unwanted. And no one shouts for those who need it the most. Why would they? To shout for another is to risk losing something yourself. And man cannot see beyond the depth of his own reflection.’
A cold breeze moved in from the sea, although Perseus paid it no heed. His head swam with the words of the Gorgon.
‘The Goddess did this to you? Because of another god’s actions upon you?’
‘You do not believe me?’ Her retort was fast, sharp. He shook his head, then wondered if there were any chance she should see.
‘How do I not know of this? Why would people not know? Surely you must have told others.’ The story of his own conception through the golden rain was known far and wide. As was that of many a cursed soul who had angered the gods. If such a thing had happened to a priestess, it seemed impossible that he would not have heard.
Once again came the bitter laugh, although now within it, Perseus heard a sadness. An angry melancholy.
‘Four people knew the actions of Poseidon and the Goddess. My parents, who both died under my gaze when I was unaware of its power, and my sisters, who were transformed into beasts more heinous than even myself for the act of daring to question Athena’s decision.’
‘No, it cannot be,’ Perseus voiced, although as he spoke the words, he knew the Gorgon’s story to be true.
‘You have gone quiet,’ she said after a moment. ‘I understand. There is nothing like the truth to silence men. And now I will be forced to kill again, as I have done a thousand times on this shore, for I have no other option. My serpents, the Goddess, they will not have it any other way. Once, people came to me for help, for advice. Now, they come to make me a murderer time and time again.’
Outside the cave, the sound of the waves as they crashed against the shore. Inside the cave, only the sound of the snakes remained. The tremble in his hand, Perseus noticed, had stopped, and when he stepped forwards, his sword hung limply by his side. The hiss of the serpents was louder now. Less reverberation from their sound. She had not lied about her location, Perseus thought as he approached a narrow passageway. Coming to a halt, he pressed his back against the cold, damp walls. For a moment, his thoughts flitted away from Medusa and returned to their frequent residence; his mother. Would there be someone in the Palace of Polydectes who would stand up for her? She was a woman forced to conceive by a god. Forced out of her home into a life she did not want nor deserve because of the will of others. Not for a second had he thought he would find a single similarity between the creature he had come to kill and the woman he left to save, yet he worried if she spoke any more, he would find it impossible to complete his task. Moments had passed, and he realised that he had not yet replied to the Priestess. And yet, when his mouth opened, he could offer nothing more than an apology.
‘I am sorry,’ he said.
Chapter 28
She felt like a fool. What had possessed her to talk to this young man? It made no sense. Thousands of years and she had never felt the need to unburden the knowledge of her creation onto any of the men who stormed onto her island. But this was different. He had come under the guidance of Athena, and
