Medusa, A Love Story (The Loves of Olympus) (31 page)

Stheno shrugged, finally regaining her breath.

“Then let us wait.” Euryale returned to the baby, her harsh face softening under Kore’s happy attention. “It seems foolhardy to drag the children from shelter when we must travel at night.”

Medusa glanced at the sleeping boy, then at his small sister. The time together had allowed the boy some rest. While he was thin, he seemed less fragile. He ate heartily at every meal, her sisters made sure of it. How Medusa longed to see him round and laughing… He would be a handsome boy.

But a soldier was coming, a soldier who might be able to help them.

“Did he see you?” Medusa asked.

Stheno shook her head. “I was atop a hill when I saw him. He was saddling his horse far below.”

“Was he alone?” Euryale asked. “One man between the three of us is no matter. Why, Medusa could…”

“Do not suggest such a thing,” Medusa stopped her.

“He is alone,” Stheno said.

“Euryale is likely right, Stheno. He must be a scout. Which means other soldiers will be coming soon, if he finds something to warrant their presence.” Medusa sighed.

Should they leave now? She didn’t know. This soldier might pass them by.

“We must keep an eye on him,” Euryale said.

“And if he does find us?” Stheno’s agitation made her voice shrill.

Medusa stood, reaching out a hand to her sister. She drew back, then, wary of putting her sister within the serpents’ striking range. “Maybe he would take the children to Xenia?”

Euryale startled, “A soldier? You would place their care into the hands of a man more likely to take life than—”

“Spiridion can care for Kore better than any of us,” Medusa challenged. “Who better than a soldier to protect the children? Who better than Xenia to raise them? She is alone now. She will shower them with such love… Love they deserve.” She watched her sisters, praying they would see the logic in her plan. “She will offer them what we cannot, a home and family.”

Stheno nodded. “You are right, Medusa. If he comes upon us, I will ask for his aid.”

“
If
he comes upon us,” Euryale argued. “There is no need to search him out.”

Medusa’s heart was heavy. Her sister was loved for the first time, joyfully embraced by the eager arms of tiny Kore.

For a moment she imagined life remaining as it was. It could be a good life, watching the children grow into strong and happy youth.

But if they stayed as they were, Spiridion would not live to be a man. Her companions would make certain of that.

His young life would be cut short by the very love she now bore him.

She shivered as she spoke. “It is better if he finds them now, sister. The longer we have them, the greater their loss will finally be.”

###

Ariston watched the old man with narrowed eyes. This was the first living person he’d found in more than a fortnight. His path had been littered with graves, more akin to Hades’ domain than that of Greece.

This man, moving slowly on his aged legs, was a surprise. Had the Persians spared him because of his weakness?

“Soldier,” he wheezed. “I fear you’ve come too late.”

“Too late?”

The old man shook his head. “All who lived here are dead.”

Ariston nodded, grieved by the man’s words. “These are sad times, old man.”

“They are,” the old man agreed. He stood, regarding Ariston with startlingly clear eyes set deep beneath weathered wrinkles. “Will you eat with me? It has been too long since I’ve had company other than myself.”

Ariston swallowed his impatience. It did no harm to visit with this man. He’d pushed on, rarely stopping to sleep or eat. He, too, had suffered loneliness of late. The stronger Thea grew, the more frequently she left him.

He nodded and slid from his horse, guiding the animal into the shade of some fig trees.

They settled, sharing their dried fish, fruit and the remains of the hard bread Ariston had scavenged from a ruined farmhouse.

“You’ve traveled far?” the old man asked.

Ariston nodded.

“And you fought in the wars?” The man raised a gnarled hand, indicating the jagged scar visible above Ariston’s exomie.

“I did.” Ariston took a deep drink.

“I was young and able once. I remember the feel of a sword in my hands.”

“Do you?” Ariston smiled slightly.

“Glory, boy, is everything.” The old man regarded him with raised eyebrows. “If I’d died on the battlefield, glory would have been mine. Instead I lived to see my children and grandchildren cut down.”

Ariston swallowed. “I am sorry for your loss.”

“Do you have a family, soldier?” The old man bit off a mouthful of fish, chewing carefully.

The bite of bread lodged in his throat, but Ariston forced the words out. “I have a wife.”

The old man nodded, smiling. “Is she fair?”

He drank deeply, but the knot in his throat remained. “She is most fair to look upon and gentle of manner.”

The old man studied him. “She waits for you?”

Ariston drew a deep breath to steady himself. “I am looking for her now. She was injured and carried away by her family.”

The old man sighed, leaning back against the tree. “I have seen no one in these parts.” He was silent. “Except for the Gorgons.” The old man shivered, tossing the pit from his olive over his shoulder.

Ariston sat forward. “When? When did you see them?”

The old man turned curious eyes upon him. “You cannot be looking for them, soldier. They are cursed by the Gods.”

“I care little for curses, old man.” He leaned forward, meeting the rheumy eyes. “When did you see them?”

“You care little for curses? And the Gods?”

Ariston stood. “I’ve lived my life in service to Olympus. As did my lady wife. And yet the Gods turned from us both. So I no longer care about their curses, their will or their spite.” He smiled sadly at the old man.

“Have you no fear?” the old man asked in hushed tones.

“None.”

“What of honor?”

“You spoke of an honorable death? I had all but made my way to Elysium, for the will of Athena and the protection of her great city. I chose to come back to her – my wife – so that I might protect and love my lady. We would have served and honored Olympus, together, in the years ahead.” He paused, swallowing his anger. “And still they took her from me.”

The old man regarded him in silence.

“I ask you again, when did you see the Gorgons?”

The old man sighed, “I will tell you. But first you must answer a question.”

Ariston could not stop his hands from clenching, or the tightening of his jaw. He had no patience for this. And yet, this old man had news he needed. “Ask quickly then.”

“Your lady wife – would she turn her back on the Gods?”

“No,” he said. “Even now, when they have used her poorly, I know she would serve them. She has a faithful and forgiving heart.” He laughed, a hard mirthless sound. “And I tell you, old man, I would honor the Gods with her, for the rest of my life, if she were returned to me.”

The old man stood, nodding. “They are there. On the top of the farthest hill, keeping a herd of goats it seems.”

“It is rumored they have a fondness for goats.” Ariston smiled in spite of himself.
Or goat herders
, she’d laughingly said. He collected his things, hurriedly strapping the sack onto his saddle.

“Is it?” the old man asked. “Be careful, soldier. You seem a good sort. And whatever it is that plagues those creatures harbors only ill will towards man.”

Ariston heard the words as he mounted his horse. He was so close, so close after so very long. “I thank you for the food. And the company.” He kicked his horse on, impatient for the journey to be behind him.

By this evening, she might be in his arms once more.

He turned, to wave his thanks to the old man. But the man was gone. He was no longer reclining against the tree, enjoying the shade. Nor was he hobbling along the path. There was no sign of him.

###

“Hera,” Medusa whispered again. Her knees ached from kneeling on the cold rocks beneath her. “Hear my prayers, I implore you.”

The morning sun was rising, signaling the end of her day. The serpents hated the sun almost as much as she did. But she would continue to seek Hera’s guidance until she was forced to retreat inside the small cabin where her sisters and the children still slept.

She must find safety for Kore and Spiridion.

“These children need your protection…” she repeated her prayer over and over. “Guide the soldier to us so that he may keep them safe.”

Even if she’d lost favor with Olympus, the Goddess would not turn away from these children. Surely, she would protect them.

“I beg you for mercy, Hera – for the care of these precious children.”

“And what of the soldier, Medusa?” The voice started Medusa from her prayers.

A woman stood before her, with lush round curves and curly brown hair. She was small, dainty and feminine – and regal. There was an aura about her that Medusa recognized. This woman was not a mortal.

“If he comes to the aid of these children, you put him at risk.” The woman spoke again, her voice warm and soothing.

“I… I will hide,” she stammered.

“He might try to find you,” the woman returned. “He might try to kill you. News of the Gorgon curse travels, and men are fools in their need for conquests.”

“Would that he could kill me, lady,” Medusa whispered.

“You seek death?”

Medusa nodded slowly. “I am a danger to others.”

The woman said nothing.

Medusa was silent too. What should she say?

The whisper of the gently blowing breeze brushed her ear, fanning the sounds of evening about her. The faint hoot of an owl, the soft sounds of the surf far below, even the call of a gull reached her.

And still the woman watched her in silence.

At first, Medusa dismissed the owl’s calls. It was only as they grew louder and more insistent that she turned towards the approaching bird. A coo, sweet and pleading, reached her.

And Medusa saw her.

“Thea?” her anguish was audible.

The owl circled her, obviously distressed by her mistress’ companions. Medusa shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself so Thea would find no place to grasp her. She curled inward, desperate.

“Are you a messenger from Olympus – from Athena?” she gasped, unable to stop the waiver from her plea. “Keep her from me, I beg of you. Let no harm come to her.”

“I am not Athena, Medusa. I am Hera. Did you not call for me?” The woman’s voice was sad.

“Forgive me, Goddess. Thea…” Medusa’s words trailed off. How happy she was to see her beloved Thea. And how desperately she wished her pet had not found her.

“Your pet did not come with me,” Hera said.

Thea landed on the ground, staring at Medusa with her huge yellow eyes as she cooed plaintively.

“Dear Thea.” Medusa smiled at her. “Stay where you are, little one. They would not take kindly to your affection.”

Indeed the snakes were stretching towards the owl with uninhibited aggression. Medusa pushed them back, ignoring the burning stab of their fangs as she did so.

“They bite you?” the Goddess asked with unrepressed horror.

“It’s a small thing – no more than a passing irritation. I am at their mercy too. Though the suffering they cause their victims is far more…cruel.” She paused. “If there were a way, if I had some warning to prevent their whims, I would control them.”

“But you cannot.” Hera regarded her with huge brown eyes. “So how will you protect this soldier?”

She drew a deep breath, knowing she had only one choice to guarantee this man’s safety. “I will leave. My sisters will give the children into his safe keeping.”

Hera moved forward, standing over Medusa. “If I agree, what do you offer me?”

“What would you have me do?”

Hera cocked her head. “You would you serve me? No matter what I ask of you?”

“I would,” she answered.

“Set thoughts of death aside. Your death, that is. I would have your companions punish those in need of punishment.”

Medusa shivered. “Who?”

“You will start here. There is a camp of Persians in the cove below. They wait for a ship that will not come.” Hera watched her closely. “These are the same men who left this path of death you’ve traveled with your sisters. The men who made these children you care for, and many more like them, into orphans. These men will set upon the warrior coming this way, and most assuredly kill him. Unless you unleash the power Athena has cursed you with.”

Medusa nodded once. Her curse had a purpose – justice. These men deserved death. “I will visit them this eve.”

The Goddess smiled. “Then you shall make your way to the caves on Crete. There you shall stay to deal with those sent to you. I give you my word both children will live long and healthy lives.”

“I thank you Hera, for your mercy. They are sweet and gentle children, deserving of love and protection.”

Hera continued, “Yes, yes. I have news that might lighten your heart.”

She asked, “Is there such news?”

“Your owl is not alone. She travels with the soldier, a hero of Salamis on a most desperate quest. He is looking for his wife.”

“A sad quest for a favored soldier.” Her words were soft. If Ariston had lived… No. Hera’s words could do nothing but bring her more sorrow. She did not want to hear of this man or his quest, she could not. Too much pain lived in her heart already.

“You would be surprised, I think, to know the rest of this man’s story.” Hera walked closer, watching the owl as it circled its mistress again and again. “He was injured on the seas, at Athens, struck dead by an infidel’s blade. But he would not rest, he bargained with Hades to come back.”

Medusa stared at Hera. “Why would he do such a thing? Surely rest in Elysium and glory on the battlefield are all any man desires?”

Hera nodded, “I agree, your words are wise. This soldier, however, does not agree. He left matters unfinished, matters he valued more than glory or rest, so it seems. His wife was seriously injured at Athens, her household cursed, and destroyed. He believed her in more danger still – and would protect her once more, if he could find her. But she was carted away by her sisters, before he could send any word to her of his return… Now he searches for his wife, knowing she believes him dead. For more than two moons now he has traveled across the countryside so that he might bring her home with him to Rhodes.”