‘I am sorry.’
The words took a moment to strike her.
‘I do not need your sympathies,’ she said. ‘I am well past the judgement of mortals.’
‘And yet you were a human once, so you must know that words can have meaning?’
She snorted a response, although his words had already taken a hold, embedding themselves within her. Of course, she remembered the power of words. She remembered all about promises and vows, and the effects when these were broken. She still recalled the eyes of all the women whose vows had been made ridiculous by their errant husbands. She remembered how her own feeble human frame had been ruined far more by the words of disdain from the Goddess than any physical act from Poseidon. She knew that true words from a man were more valuable than shallow gifts from a god. But this man, this boy? He was just another murderer come to claim a prize.
‘I have a mother,’ the boy said, piercing the silence.
‘Most men do.’ Her curt response was meant as humour, but the lack of reply she received caused her to regret her decision. She could hear him swallowing. His pulse stuttering. With a great deal more softness than she had used in centuries, she said, ‘Tell me.’
The pause elongated between them; the mist his breath caused in the air now so close she could taste it. Heat radiated from his body. Was that the warmth of a demi-god or merely of a man? It had been so long since she had spent any significant amount of time in the company of a person such as this, that she no longer knew. How would it feel to be embraced by such a warmth? she wondered. Held close just for the sake of compassion. Her snakes hissed at her daydreaming. Of course, that could never be. She would never know the comfort of warm arms and human flesh again. ‘Your mother,’ she said, prompting him to continue. ‘Tell me about her.’
He did not start immediately, and even when he did, there was a hesitancy to his tone, a stiltedness as the words left his lips.
‘She raised me. There were other people too, I had a family, but my mother she is … special. That sounds silly, I know. Every child must feel the same, but my mother is … she was chosen by Zeus for a reason. No better person could I have wished for in my life.’ A dull throb extended out from her chest, a reminiscence of the way she had felt about her father. ‘She is betrothed to a man,’ Perseus continued. ‘A powerful man. A king.’
‘And this displeases you?’
‘He is vile,’ Perseus spat his words. ‘Hideous and rotten to the core.’
Medusa listened on, pity swelling in her heart. The passageway she had slipped into felt longer than it had. She felt no risk in moving a little closer towards Perseus as he continued to talk. ‘This king, he has no shame. His eyes, they wandered across her like a prize. A goat for slaughtering. My mother; she is a strong woman. A brave woman. She has endured so much. Yet I wonder how much this man will test even her will. When I consider … When I …’ His words drifted into his thoughts. It didn’t matter. Medusa knew their meaning. She had felt them herself all those years.
‘And you are here because of him?’ she said.
‘I promised him the head of the Gorgon as a wedding present.’
‘A bold present indeed. You know my gaze would turn any man who looked upon it to stone?’
‘I do.’
‘So, your gift to him would be an eternal one?’
‘I can but hope.’
He waited for her reply. His warmth was waning, wicking into the air around him. Outside, the sun had set, and the rays of light that had diffused into the cave were fading fast. She was inches away from him; he knew that. Yet as long as he remained flush against the rock, he would be safe. Safety in the Gorgon’s cave. Even he could see the irony, feeling safe in the home of a monster. It had been a mistake to tell her the reason for his visit. Now she knew his weakness. Perhaps this was always her play, lulling men into a feeling of safety before casting that final strike. In a heady daze, he realised his sword was completely lowered. He whipped it into the air.
‘I would offer you my head. Gladly.’ Her words caught him by surprise. ‘But it cannot be. The Goddess will not let me die. My serpents, they will stop it. There is no way. I have tried. Believe me, child. I have tried.’
‘You have tried to end your life?’ Perseus failed to hide the surprise in his voice.
‘You think I would choose this? The gods wish to make me suffer for all eternity. That is the truth. As long as Zeus reigns upon Olympus and Athena holds his ear, I am destined for torment.’
Perseus considered her words. His limbs had grown stiff. Motionless conversation was not something he had practised in preparation for the event. Looking down at the mirrored surface of his shield, he noted the deep creases furrowed in his brow.
‘No,’ he said.
‘No?’
‘No.’ The words left his lips with more certainty than he had felt about anything since leaving Seriphos. ‘I do not think so. I think the gods sent me to you for a reason. I think I am here to bring your end.’
‘All the men think they have been sent here to seal my fate.’
‘And how many of them have been given gifts by the gods to help aid them with their task?’
His heart drummed against his sternum as he awaited her reply. Whether half-god or not, many men, stronger, fitter, and
