But, while others were enthralled by his exotic tales and charming quips, Medusa paid him no heed and walked past the God and his wares every day, without a second glance. If anything, his jewels appeared to repulse her.
It did not take long for Poseidon to realise the Priestess had no time to wander aimlessly, listening to merchants spin tales. And so, he reconsidered his approach. Different fish needed different hooks.
He picked the time of day when he knew she would be returning from the polis. He had been there himself, this time disguised as an old man, seeking out her wisdom on how best to deal with a troublesome mare. Her answer had been thoughtful, although he watched only the movement of her lips and cared not for the words that left them.
‘Excuse me, Priestess,’ he said, speaking as Medusa ascended the steps. His new guise was a great deal younger than the one from earlier in the day. ‘Excuse me.’
Medusa turned to face him. Her hair was covered in a shawl, and the fine dust from the day had turned the white of the silk to a subtle, glinting amber. Her headband had slipped ever so slightly to one side, allowing her ringlets to break free and drop down about her shoulders.
‘I have an offering for the Goddess,’ he said, holding out a platter and casting his eye towards the temple. ‘I was hoping I could deliver it.’ He had picked his outfit carefully for the occasion. Too flamboyant and she would dismiss him instantly, the way she had the merchant. Too poor and she would be circumspect as to how he had come by such an offering in the first place.
‘Thank you,’ Medusa said. She reached out her hand and took hold of the silver platter laden with delicacies. His fingers held firmly onto the other side.
‘Would it be possible for me to take it myself?’ he said. ‘Into the temple?’
‘It would not,’ Medusa said. ‘No men are allowed in the temple of Athena.’
The man nodded thoughtfully. ‘Even with you by my side?’
‘No men are permitted in the temple,’ Medusa repeated. She spoke forcefully, but kindly. Poseidon continued his nodding. His grip remained firm around the platter.
‘It is my wife, you see,’ he said, offering the Priestess the most pleading look he could muster. ‘I wish to thank Athena for my wife.’
‘Is your wife not well, sir?’ Medusa asked. ‘Can she not come to the temple herself?’
The man smiled. It was a great smile, he knew, yet it was not reciprocated in quite the manner he had hoped.
‘She is quite well, thank you, Priestess,’ he said. ‘But that is why I wish to give thanks to your goddess. She was ill, and I feared the worst, but my wife prayed to Athena and only Athena every day and every night, and on the fifth day, the fever receded. My wife will come to make an offering when she is fully recovered,’ he said. ‘But I wanted to give one myself. To display my gratitude.’
‘That is thoughtful,’ Medusa said. ‘And the Goddess will look favourably upon this act. I will ensure she receives this offering.’ He smiled again to the best of his mortal marionette’s ability.
‘But I cannot go to her myself?’
‘You cannot,’ Medusa said.
Reluctantly, he dropped his hands from the platter and bowed his head.
‘Thank you,’ he said.
The next day, he waited again outside the temple. The offering was smaller this time, not nearly so lavish – for how would it look if he were to offer a greater gift now? Like his first offering had been miserly. Like he had misled her about their means. Medusa would spot that flaw without a doubt. Once again he picked a place at the bottom of the steps, and this time when he called her it was not by her title, but by her name.
‘Medusa,’ he said. The Priestess stopped. She lifted her head and turned. ‘I am sorry if I speak out of turn. I told my wife of our encounter yesterday, and she assured me that it must have been the priestess Medusa to whom I spoke.’
‘Your wife was correct. Though I do not believe you told me her name?’
A slight rise in tension flickered across the God’s smile.
‘Caroline,’ he said, which was a familiar name among the ladies of Athens. ‘I cannot rest,’ he said. ‘We are hosting her family today and did not wish to seem rude, but she asked me to offer you these. They are for you,’ he emphasised.
‘That is most kind, sir.’
‘Really, it is nothing. Think of it as an apology for my previous intrusion.’
With his sentence floating in the air, he turned and placed his hand upon hers. Her warmth flowed into him like a fine wine. Then, in an instant, he twisted and strode down the steps. Medusa’s eyes were still on him, his sudden departure clearly leaving her intrigued. The heat of her hand was still fresh on his fingertips. It was exactly as he wished.
Chapter 6
The day he entered the temple, the heat was so stifling that the birds, which normally skimmed and dipped around the roof, had rested their feathers down on the marble floor in an attempt to siphon some of the heat away from their bodies. The worshippers had left, their offerings taken and blessings given upon them in the name of the grey-eyed Goddess. Around the walls and before the altars, two dozen candles burned to the end of their wicks, the white wax dripping and pooling around the holders. The other priestesses had been called away. He had seen to it. A
