Deep Water

by Nicola Cameron

  In seconds he was snoring.

  ****

  He woke up when something hard thudded into his ribs, sending pain knifing through his chest. “Wake up, you fool!” an enraged voice commanded. Another kick, harder this time.

  Who on earth or Olympus would dare to kick him? Groaning, Poseidon rolled onto his back, squinting up at the dark shape looming overhead. After a bit it resolved into Amphitrite. A very angry Amphitrite.

  He caught a third kick, pushing her foot away. She stumbled backwards, still glaring at him. “How could you?” she hissed. “How could you, husband?”

  How could he what? Smacking his lips against the foul taste in his mouth, Poseidon tried to think. He’d been drinking with Zeus and Dionysus the night before, yes, and then he’d run into Aphrodite. And she told him…

  He blinked, glancing around at the sun-filled courtyard, and the olive tree overhead. The very stones radiated Athena’s presence. He was in one of the inner parts of her handmaidens’ compound.

  A sense of unease threaded through his hangover. He’d gone there to meet the maiden Aphrodite had declared was his agapetos. An image of a slender body and huge brown eyes came to mind.

  Huge brown eyes, filled with tears as they stared up at him…

  He shied from the thought. “Wife,” he croaked. “Fetch me some water.”

  “Fetch it yourself,” Amphitrite snarled. “How could you give an innocent girl nectar? You know how it muddles mortal minds! And then once she was unable to fight back you took her like a whore on the floor of a courtyard! Our own agapetos!”

  His thoughts came more easily now. Meeting the girl, plying her with wine, her sleepy welcome to him. “But she wanted me,” he managed.

  “She didn’t want you!” Amphitrite roared at him. “You egotistical fool! She passed out from your tainted wine! And then you held your hand over her mouth and raped her.” She kicked him again on the last word and he grunted from the impact.

  He rolled out of kicking range, trying to think. Had he held a hand over the girl’s mouth? He dimly remembered not wanting to attract Athena’s notice and spoil their fun. And he’d intended to pleasure Medusa afterwards, he had. She wasn’t just another nymph or maiden, good for a tumble and nothing else, he knew that.

  But the combination of wine, nectar, and sexual pleasure had been too strong, even for him. He’d fallen asleep, probably crushing the air out of the poor girl in the process.

  He shook his head like a bull, trying to dispel the thought. He hadn’t raped Medusa. She was his agapetos. That was just … he couldn’t have…

  Had he?

  He looked up truculently at his wife, ready to roll back if she tried to kick him again. “Is she angry?”

  “Is she—” Amphitrite’s very aura blazed with rage. “Yes, Poseidon. I would say she is very angry. As am I. As is Athena, for that matter.”

  He winced. It would be Troy all over again unless he acted quickly. “Very well,” he said, grimacing. “What penance do I have to pay?”

  Amphitrite’s mouth opened slightly before she regained control. “Do you not understand what you did?” she said, biting each word off. “There is no penance that you can pay that would restore Medusa’s maidenhead, or her trust. You destroyed that with your drunken lechery.”

  Something pricked at him, something deeply uncomfortable. He suspected it was guilt. “If I was rough with her, I’m sorry about that,” he said, struggling to his feet and summoning clothes with a wave. “I regret not wooing her more gently, wife, but she is our destined mate. It isn’t as if she can turn her back on us.”

  “Goddess above, you still don’t understand.” Furious tears now filled Amphitrite’s eyes. “She is with Athena now, telling her what happened. She is begging for your niece’s protection, from us. And from the little I saw of Athena’s mood before I was banished from her presence I suspect that she will be more than willing to give it. You have driven our beloved from us, Poseidon.” His consort’s voice was thick with fury and grief.

  “I will go to them. I will…” The word “apologize” stuck in his throat, barred by his pride. “I will explain what happened. Athena, for all her faults, is a wise goddess, and Medusa is young. They will understand—”

  “Have you always been this oblivious, or am I just seeing it now?” Amphitrite shouted. “You will not go in there and explain. You will go in there in full penitence, admit your fault, and beg for forgiveness. If we’re lucky, Medusa may understand that you were acting out of drunken idiocy rather than malice. And if we are very, very lucky, she may choose to forgive you. Eventually.”

  His irritation began to flow, far more familiar and erasing those uncomfortable prickles of guilt. “I am the God of the Sea,” he declared. “I do not grovel to anyone, and certainly not to a chit of a mortal maiden.”

  Amphitrite’s eyes were blue flame. “If you ever wish to lie with me again, you will beg our mate, the one you abused so cruelly, for forgiveness,” she said.

  He couldn’t stop the laugh that burst forth at her audacity. “I am your husband, and I will lie with you when and as I choose,” he said, scrubbing at one cheek. “You do not dictate the terms of our marriage.”

  She reacted as if she had been slapped. Even in the depths of his hangover Poseidon realized he had overstepped his mark.

  Stiffly, Amphitrite drew herself up to her full height, reaching out and summoning her trident. Her beautiful face twisted in anger and determination. “Hear me now, Poseidon, God of the Sea. If you do not gain Medusa’s forgiveness, you will never have me as your consort again. This I swear by Zeus Horkios.”

  “My brother,” Poseidon pointed out. “Somehow, I doubt he will take your side against mine.”

  Amphitrite’s lips drew back from her teeth. “Then I swear it by Gaia Herself.”

  Poseidon was shocked when the very fabric of reality chimed, registering the oath. He spun, glaring at the flagstones of the courtyard. “I am your own grandson, Gaia!” he shouted.

  A sense of immense power loomed over him like an invisible tidal wave. Your consort chose the oath, Poseidon. I will hold her to it. Pray that your other mate forgives you, or you will spend the rest of eternity without love.

  The words Amphitrite had spoken to him so long ago rang in his mind. “The Oracle said that we would have a third mate, and that it would be the end and beginning of happiness for us.” Still trying to think clearly, he turned back to Amphitrite, but she had already ripped open a portal and stormed through.

  Head pounding from too much wine, anger, and a growing sense of dismay, Poseidon went in search of his wronged agapetos. He found her in the main audience room, kneeling before a grim Athena.

  The grey-eyed Goddess of Wisdom looked up at his entrance. “Uncle,” she said coldly. “Is it true that you raped my handmaiden in my own temple?”

  Poseidon licked his lips, wishing that he had thought to rinse his mouth out. “I regret what happened between Medusa and me, but it cannot be changed,” he said, trying to sidestep the accusation of rape. “We are agapetos, destined to be mates by the Fates themselves. I swear that I will never touch her with anything but gentleness again.”

  Athena glanced down at the kneeling handmaiden, whose long brown hair hung in front of her face like a curtain. “He offers you gentleness in his bed, Medusa,” she said, her voice neutral. “Do you wish to accept his offer?”

  The girl straightened, sitting back on her heels as if every movement hurt. Poseidon winced. They probably did, due to his actions. “I wish that no one, god or mortal, would ever look on me with lust again,” she said to her goddess, ignoring him. “That is what I wish, my lady.”

  Sorrow crossed the goddess’s face. “So be it. Remember that I do not blame you for what I do now.” She threw a glance full of loathing at Poseidon. “This is your doing, Uncle. And may you choke on it until the end of time.”

  She held up a hand. A violent spiral of energy spilled from it, powered by her divine aura.
The sparkling whirlwind cascaded onto Medusa. The girl writhed, thrashing as Athena’s will began to change her body.

  “No!” Poseidon lurched forward to offset Athena’s curse, but it was too late. Medusa swelled in size, growing monstrous. Her gown shredded, falling to the temple floor and revealing skin that was now greenish black and covered in scales. The girl’s legs disappeared, turned into a thick, powerful snake’s tail that thrashed on the polished flagstones. Her breasts flattened, and her hair abruptly sprang into a curly halo.

  No, not a halo. Her hair had become a nest of snakes, curling and hissing around her head like a deadly cloud. She turned, and Poseidon shuddered at the large yellow snake’s eyes that had replaced her human ones.

  Then he felt his body begin to shift, turning into something hard and cold from the power in that baleful gaze. Pushing back with the power of his own divinity, he shed the malicious spell and looked away from Medusa, keeping his gaze focused on the great statue that stood over Athena’s throne. The shield it held was polished enough to act as a mirror and revealed the horrible truth of Medusa’s new form.

  “You turned her into a Gorgon!” he accused Athena.

  “Yes, Uncle.” His niece’s voice was still cold and neutral. “It seemed appropriate, given her name and all. And she will never have to worry about unwanted advances from anyone ever again.”

  He felt another pulse of power from Athena, and a cloud of light appeared around Medusa. When it dissipated, she was gone. Furious, Poseidon stormed over to the goddess. “You didn’t give me a chance to explain!” he raged.

  She raised one pale eyebrow. “Explain what? That you fell on her in a drunken haze? That you rutted with her like a boar against her will? That you and Amphitrite betrayed her?”

  “What? Amphitrite had nothing to do with this!”

  “Enough!” The word echoed through the temple as Athena held up a hand. “Medusa was first among my handmaidens, and I loved her like a daughter. If you had come to me as a civilized being and asked for her hand, I would have given it to you. Reluctantly, yes, for I know what you’re like, Uncle, but I would have done it. After all, only a fool would go against the weaving of the Fates.”

  She gave him a bitter, crooked smile. “But thanks to you and your animalistic appetites, I was forced to cast Medusa out in shame and dishonor from my service, instead of releasing her with love and gratitude.” The grey-eyed goddess leaned forward, powerful hands gripping the arms of the throne as if they were Poseidon’s throat. “But before I cast her out, I was able to grant her one final boon. It was her wish to be turned into a monster, something that you would never look upon with desire, or molest, or take against her will ever again. You are directly responsible for your agapetos choosing to become a Gorgon, Poseidon. You, and you alone.”

  Athena stood, summoning her spear, helmet, and shield, becoming the warrior goddess beloved by her city. “Now get out of my temple and never cross its threshold again.”

  Even he could not disobey the direct order of a goddess in her own demesnes. He bowed rigidly and ripped open a portal to Olympus and his mansion there, intending to hunt down Amphitrite and talk some sense into her.

  But she was gone. All her things had been cleared from their shared bedroom, and he couldn’t sense her anywhere in the sprawling building. He portaled to his undersea palace, and found the same thing there.

  Amphitrite wasn’t at any of their other residences around the Mediterranean. She wasn’t at any of his temples, or hers. She was simply gone.

  And he was alone.

  ****

  Poseidon returned to his duties as lord of the Mediterranean, always keeping an ear out for news of his agapetos’s whereabouts. But there was no sign of Amphitrite anywhere in the civilized world. He was starting to wonder if she’d fled to the seas outside the Mediterranean when a supplicant in one of his temples had prayed for help with a dread monster near his village, a monster with snakes for hair and eyes that could turn men to stone. It could only be Medusa.

  He plucked the location from his supplicant’s prayer and opened a portal to the cave entrance. It was near dusk, the surrounding hillside going dark with the encroaching night, and he could already hear the chirping of the insects.

  He paused, studying the rocky opening into the hill. It was large enough to accommodate two men marching in side by side. More than large enough for a wolf, or bear, or the assorted wildlife to use it as a den.

  And yet there was no spoor, no prints leading in or out of the cave. Only an odd, smoothed track, as if someone had dragged a tree or a stone into the cave. He scented the air. None of the smells of predators, either animal or human. Instead, there was a dry, bitter note to the breeze that spoke of cold-blooded things and whispering scales.

  Gathering his dignity, he summoned his trident and commanded the tines to light his way as he stepped into the cave. Here the dry smell grew stronger, taking on a musky undernote.

  He soon came across the first corpse, if he could call the cowering statue that. It appeared to have been carved by a talented sculptor, every detail exquisitely true to life, from the tension in the fingers as they bent into defensive claws to the wide, stretched rictus of the mouth as it screamed out its last breath.

  More statues stood propped against the cave walls, or curled into hollows near the floor. Mortal men, all of them come to slay the monster. Some small part of Poseidon’s heart raged at the thought of mortals attacking Medusa. But she was the one who chose to be a monster.

  A hissing, slithering sound alerted him to the arrival of the cave’s resident. He held up the mirrored shield he’d brought, using it to look at the reflection of his lost agapetos as she came into sight.

  Medusa looked exactly like her namesake now, from the huge, powerful snake’s tail that formed her lower body to the greenish skin on her torso and the cloud of slithering, hissing snakes around her head. Somewhere she had found or made a wicked-looking bow, and a quiver of arrows was strapped around one shoulder.

  But her face, her lovely face, was still the same. It was an oasis of beauty surrounded by so much horror. Knowing that he had driven her to this felt like knives inside.

  She saw him and stopped. “Posssssseidon.” Even Medusa's enunciation was now snake-like. “What are you doing here, sea lord?”

  He straightened, giving her reflection a wary nod. “I’m looking for Amphitrite. Have you seen her?”

  To his surprise, Medusa laughed. “Have I seen Amphitrite?” she said, bringing her brows down in a mocking fashion. “Why, no, I haven’t. A pity, that. I have the perfect spot for her statue, as well.”

  The muscles in his jaw tensed. “You can be as angry at me as you like, but don’t blame Amphitrite for this,” he said. “Athena is the one who turned you into a monster.”

  “At my request,” Medusa said flatly. “I asked her to make me into something that would never draw your lustful look again.” Her snaky head cocked to the side, the serpents that had replaced the brown curls of her hair hissing in unison. “Do you like what you see, Lord Poseidon? Will you try your luck with me again? I warn you, I have claws and fangs now. Ever so many fangs, and all of them thirsty for the divine ichor that flows in your veins.”

  Poseidon’s hand tightened on his trident. “I will not touch you again, Medusa. You have made your distaste for me exceedingly clear.”

  “Distaste? Distaste?” Her hooting laughter echoed in the cavern. “I loathe you, Poseidon. I hate you with every breath I take and every beat of my heart. I hate you with every drop of blood in my veins, and every mortal who comes here to slay me and dies under my eyes only feeds my hunger to see you and your whore dead at my feet.”

  “You will not call Amphitrite that!” he thundered. “Be angry at me, yes. I deserve it. But she has done nothing to earn your rage.”

  “Nothing?” Medusa screeched. “She set you on me, didn’t she? You said it yourself, how she had told you what a sweet young morsel I was. Oh, she lured me in as
neatly as a fisherman, and presented me on a plate for you to ravish at your leisure.”

  “That—” He stopped, trying to remember what he’d said in a drunken haze that night. “Amphitrite never told me about you. She didn't even know that I’d gone to see you until afterwards. I’d met Aphrodite on the steps of Zeus’s hall. It was she who told me about you.”

  The Gorgon stopped in mid-slither, staring at him. “What did you say?”

  “Aphrodite told me that you were our agapetos. She congratulated me on your beauty and purity, and said I should go see you immediately.” He wondered if the Goddess of Love had known what would happen, or had simply redirected him out of spite for his behavior. “Amphitrite is blameless in this.”

  The snakes’ lashing eased around Medusa’s head. “She ... she didn’t betray me?”

  “No. She is absolutely furious at me for what I did to you. She left me.” The admittance was bitter as gall in his mouth. “She loves you, Medusa, truly. She would have never betrayed you.”

  Golden eyes widened in the mirror's reflection, and Medusa’s hands began to shake. “No. No, that’s not true. That can’t be true.” She stared at the cave walls, eyes darting back and forth. “She ... I ... I did this? For nothing?”

  Poseidon felt a glimmer of hope. “If you beg Athena to change you back—”

  “Change me back?” The great head whipped around. He could feel his skin stinging under the power of her glare, trying to turn to stone. “So that you can rape me again at your leisure? So that I become your plaything, a furrow to be plowed when you feel like it?” Her voice rose to a painful screech. “I will be damned to Tartarus first.”

  Poseidon didn’t flinch from the vitriol in her voice, but his soul stung under its lash. “I am sorry for what I did to you, Medusa,” he said. “I swear by Zeus Horkios that it will never happen again. If you return, you will have only soft caresses and the gentlest of lovemaking from me.”

  There was a moment when he thought he’d broken through to her. He realized his folly when her loud, hoarse laugh rang out in the cavern. “You are not listening to me, Earthshaker,” she said. “I will never be your mattress again. I would rather bear this head of snakes and live in a damp, cold cave than ever come to your bed again.”