Medusa the Rich

by Joan Holub

  When Principal Zeus swung himself onto Pegasus’s back, Medusa scurried to take her place beside Dionysus on the bench seat in the chariot. She’d barely sat down when the horse began to flap its mighty golden wings. Liftoff!

  As their chariot soared into the air, she caught a glimpse of her sisters standing together at their dorm room window to watch the leave-taking. Leaning over, Medusa sent them a big wave and theatrically blew them a kiss. They drew back from the window in a hurry. She could just imagine how annoyed they were at seeing her take off like this in the company of the illustrious Principal Zeus!

  “My sisters,” Medusa explained as Dionysus gave her a curious look.

  “Ah,” he said. “It’s cool that you guys are getting along better these days.” She sent him an Are you kidding? look, but he’d switched his gaze toward the clear blue sky and didn’t see.

  Medusa’s snakes wriggled happily as the chariot soared over the majestic five-story Academy. Built of polished white stone and surrounded on all sides by rows of Ionic columns, it was an awesome sight. Beyond it she saw a couple of dozen students—mostly boys—out on the sports fields. Some were scrambling up the ropes of a climbing net, some were lifting weights, and others were chucking spears as far as they could throw them. She nudged Dionysus and motioned toward them.

  “Are they practicing for the Temple Games?” she asked. The upcoming series of athletic and adventure game competitions was still a couple of weeks away, but practice for them had already begun. Though the competitions were open to boys and girls alike, she didn’t know of very many girls who had signed up to participate. A rainbow goddessgirl named Iris had. Artemis, too. She was down there now, drawing back her bowstring.

  Dionysus was among the boys who had signed up. When he glanced down at the field, he said, “Yeah. Unfortunately, I’ll have to miss this weekend’s practices because of our trip.” After a pause he shot her a quick look. “Um, did you hear that each contestant is allowed to pick someone to champion them at the games?”

  Medusa shrugged, still watching Artemis. “Champion them how?” Zing! Artemis’s arrow flew from her bow to hit the center of her target.

  Woo-hoo! Medusa punched a fist into the air, whooping for her even though the goddessgirl couldn’t hear her. Artemis was a superb archer, just like her twin brother, Apollo.

  “I’m not really sure,” Dionysus replied. “By cheering and stuff, I guess. Waving encouraging signs.”

  Medusa rolled her eyes. “Sounds dumb.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. She’d only been half-listening, really. But now Dionysus looked kind of taken aback. Like he was sorry he’d even brought it up.

  His face was unreadable as he said, “Yeah, I suppose it is.” He reached into the pocket of his tunic and pulled out a rumpled letterscroll tied with a purple ribbon.

  What if he’d been planning on asking her to be his champion? wondered Medusa as he unrolled the scroll. She actually wouldn’t mind that. In fact, it might be kind of fun! She tried to backtrack. “Uh, did you mean . . . Were you going to ask—”

  “I once asked Hera to be my champion at a chariot race,” Zeus called back to them, apparently having overheard some of what they’d said. “She honored me greatly when she agreed. Not only did she gift me with the favor of her lace handkerchief to tie onto my chariot, but she also cheered more loudly for me than anyone else did during the race. Really got my spirits up.” Their chariot entered some clouds just then, and he fell silent as he navigated their way out.

  Still holding up his letterscroll, Dionysus turned a little in his seat to face Medusa. “This is the message King Midas sent me.” He began reading aloud:

  “DEAR DIONYSUS,

  I FOUND A SCRUFFY-LOOKING WHITE GOAT IN MY ROSE GARDEN THIS MORNING. THERE WAS A TAG ON THE COLLAR AROUND ITS NECK THAT READS: ‘MY NAME IS SILENUS. IF FOUND, PLEASE CONTACT DIONYSUS AT MOUNT OLYMPUS ACADEMY.’

  YOU MAY COME TO GET SILENUS AT YOUR EARLIEST CONVENIENCE. I WILL TAKE GOOD CARE OF HIM UNTIL YOU ARRIVE. I HAVE ENCLOSED A MAP WITH DIRECTIONS TO MY PALACE.

  YOURS TRULY,

  KING MIDAS OF PHRYGIA”

  Principal Zeus must have overheard yet again, because he called over his shoulder, “Hey, could you pass that map up here? I think we might be slightly off course.”

  The scrap of papyrus on which the king had drawn his map had been wrapped inside the letterscroll, so Dionysus removed it and passed it forward to Zeus. Then he glanced over at Medusa, saying, “Silenus was missing for so long, I’d almost given up hope of ever seeing him again. I—”

  “What’s this?” Zeus boomed, drawing their attention again. He was looking downward now, and he sounded very annoyed.

  Because Pegasus was amazingly fast—much faster than winged sandals or chariots pulled by other animals—they were already halfway over the sparkling blue waters of the Aegean Sea. Following Zeus’s gaze, Medusa and Dionysus spotted a long wooden ship circling an island in the Aegean. An island on which a fine temple of white marble had been built.

  The chariot swayed abruptly as Principal Zeus directed Pegasus to swoop low over the ship. It was flying a black-and-white skull-and-crossbones flag!

  “Thought so,” Zeus growled. “Pirates! I’ve received reports that they’ve been stealing riches from my temples lately, the dastardly devils. Well, not today!”

  He reached into the thunderbolt holder strapped over his back and drew out a bolt. Taking aim, he hurled it at the ship with a mighty throw. Ka-BOOM!

  As the thunderbolt struck the deck of the ship, flames sprang up. The pirates began running around. The cowardly ones jumped overboard and swam away. But the braver ones rushed over with buckets of water to put out the fire.

  “Score!” Dionysus cheered, punching a fist into the air as he watched the scene below.

  “That’ll keep you out of trouble for a while!” Zeus roared down at the pirates. He was grinning with glee as he took Pegasus higher again. Soon they’d crossed the Aegean and were flying inland over Asia Minor. Zeus consulted the map on the scrap of papyrus and guided the winged horse toward the location of the palace.

  “Hey! I think I see the rose garden!” Medusa shouted a few minutes later. She pointed to a huge, gorgeous garden below them with rows and rows of rosebushes. Wow! There were hundreds of them, she realized.

  “I see a cottage. But where’s the king’s palace?” Dionysus asked in confusion as Pegasus swooped in for a landing.

  “Good question,” said Zeus. No sooner had they touched down than the plain wooden door of the small thatch-roofed stone cottage opened. A tall, thin man with wavy brown hair and a beard appeared in the doorway. He was wearing a modest gold crown, which slipped sideways on his head as he and the small white goat that frolicked beside him came running to greet the visitors.

  “Silenus! Buddy!” cried Dionysus. As soon as the goat heard his voice, it bounded over to him and butted its head against Dionysus in pleased recognition. Maaa! Maaa! it bleated happily. Dionysus bent and gave the goat a hug.

  While they were having this joyous reunion, King Midas greeted his other two guests warmly. He was obviously flustered when he recognized Zeus. “Welcome, welcome, your prominent eminence . . . er . . . your gracious and powerful mightiness . . . um . . . your most magnanimous and magnificent majesty of the heavens.” As he spoke, he bowed up and down and up and down.

  Zeus beamed, obviously pleased with King Midas’s show of respect. “Thank you! You have done a great service to my student,” Zeus said, gesturing a hand toward Dionysus and Silenus. They were now playing some kind of chasing game among the rosebushes. “If I could prevail on your hospitality,” Zeus went on, “I would like to leave my two charges—Dionysus and Medusa—in your care for the night while I attend a ceremony in Aizanoi. I will return for them in the morning.”

  “Yes, yes, that would be fine!” exclaimed King Midas. He nodded so enthusiastically, bobbing his head up and down, up and down, that his crown slid this w
ay and that. “I would be honored, oh most distinguished of all the divinities, most impressive and imperial of all immortals, most—”

  “Excellent!” Zeus boomed, cutting him short. Abruptly he turned on his heel and strode toward Pegasus.

  “Would you like some cake to take on your journey?” King Midas called after him. Then he added anxiously, “It wouldn’t be nearly as fine as what you’re used to, I imagine, but—”

  Zeus paused, appearing to consider the idea. He had a major sweet tooth, Medusa knew. However, when the king informed him that the cake wasn’t quite baked yet, he continued on. “Thanks, but no thanks. No time to lose.” He unharnessed Pegasus and then, leaving the chariot behind for now, leaped onto the white horse’s back. Then came a flap of mighty golden wings, and they were off again!

  With a look of awe on his face, King Midas stared after them. Then his gaze returned to Medusa. Since he was mortal, she had taken her stoneglasses from her pocket and put them on just before they’d landed here. Turning one’s host to stone would not have been very good manners, even if it happened by accident!

  “Here, take these,” said Midas, offering her a handful of freshly fallen rose petals he’d picked up. “I bet your snakes would enjoy a snack.”

  “Thanks,” said Medusa. Taking the petals, she tossed them in the air and her snakes eagerly snapped them up. She was surprised and pleased that the king seemed unfazed by her snakes. Most mortals reacted to them with terror.

  “Come, I’ll take you and Dionysus inside my palace so I can show you to your rooms,” Midas went on. “Then we can have an evening tea party in the garden with some of that cake. And with more snacks for your snakes.”

  Medusa’s snakes wriggled in delight at the prospect of more rose petals. They obviously liked the king, and she’d always found them to be good judges of character. She smiled and nodded, accepting his invitation. Then he summoned Dionysus over, and Silenus tagged along. Maaa! Maaa!

  Dionysus got his bag from the chariot and then reached for hers, but she picked it up before him. “That’s okay. I can get it,” she said.

  As they followed King Midas inside the stone cottage “palace,” she realized her crush had probably only been trying to be nice by helping her. She probably should have let him. That’s what Aphrodite, the goddessgirl of love and beauty, would no doubt have done in her place. After all, crushes helped each other, and her bag was pretty heavy. Drat. Yet another mistake. She really stunk at this boy-girl stuff. Pretty soon Dionysus was going to think she didn’t like him!

  Dionysus’s room was at the front of the cottage, Medusa’s at the back. There was a central room between them that apparently served as a combination living room and dining room. It had three large overstuffed chairs set before a fireplace, and a linen-draped table with a sideboard. “But where will you sleep?” Medusa asked King Midas, noticing that there wasn’t a third bedroom for him.

  “Don’t worry about me,” he assured her. “I’ll be quite comfortable in my chair here before the fire. You go ahead and make yourselves at home. The kitchen’s out back. I’m going to go have a word with my cook about that cake.”

  “But—” Medusa started to protest as the king went toward the rear door of the cottage.

  Dionysus stopped her with a finger to his lips. “It would be an insult to him if we refused the accommodations he’s offered,” he whispered. “Just go with it.”

  She nodded, knowing he was right. After quickly unpacking her bag in her room, she rejoined Dionysus in the cottage’s tiny living room area. “Do you think King Midas’s kingdom is poor? Is that why his palace is a tiny cottage?”

  “I’ve been wondering the same thing,” Dionysus replied as they went to join the king.

  Three places had been set with tea things on a small white wicker table in the rose garden. Once everyone was seated, King Midas himself poured the tea. Soon his cook, a red-cheeked girl with long yellow hair, appeared bearing a big round cake. It was sunken in the middle, and when she cut it into slices and handed them around on plates, Medusa could see that the cake wasn’t fully cooked.

  However, King Midas only said, “Thank you, Tanis. This will do nicely.”

  After she left, he apologized, “Sorry about the cake. Tanis isn’t really a gifted cook, but she needed a job.”

  Not really a gifted cook? Now, that was an understatement if she’d ever heard one, thought Medusa as she took a bite of the gooey half-raw cake. It was a good thing Zeus hadn’t stayed to sample it. No way would he have been pleased.

  “Her family’s farm was especially hard hit during Typhon’s recent rampages,” King Midas went on. “As were many of the other farms and homes around here.”

  So that was it! Medusa realized. The reason the king was so poor.

  Typhon was a monster of whirling tornado-strength winds who had escaped from imprisonment in the depths of the Underworld not long ago. He’d ravaged many lands before attacking MOA, too. Fortunately, with the help of Iris and her rainbows, as well as four seasonal wind brothers, Zeus had managed to capture the monster and imprison him once more—in a secret location. Hopefully, Typhon would never escape to make trouble again.

  Medusa noticed that Dionysus was secretly feeding Silenus most of his cake under the table. Well, maybe not so secretly, since she’d seen what he was doing. At least someone liked the cake! Silenus was wolfing—er, goating it down!

  “Typhon’s winds also swept away my first palace—my real one,” Midas continued. He sighed a little sadly. Then he smiled in Dionysus’s direction. “But miraculously, my lovely rose gardens were spared. I would’ve been heartbroken had they been destroyed.” Breaking off, he handed his plate with its barely touched cake to Dionysus. “Maybe Silenus would like some more?” he said with a wink.

  After Silenus had enjoyed his second, and then his third slice of cake—courtesy of Medusa—King Midas showed her and Dionysus his favorite rosebushes.

  “Inhale the roses’ light, sweet scent,” he invited.

  Since snakes pick up smells partly through their tongues, Medusa’s snakes practically wore their tongues out now. Flicking them through the air they strained to capture scents as heavenly as the taste of ambrosia and nectar.

  “The goddessgirl Persephone back at MOA would die for a chance to see this garden,” Medusa commented. Then she grinned, adding, “If she weren’t immortal, that is.” As the goddessgirl of spring and growing plants, gardens were Persephone’s thing.

  Dionysus grinned back. But before he could add anything, they heard a munching sound that made them all whirl around. “No, Silenus! Don’t!” Dionysus scolded the goat. Despite having devoured three pieces of cake, the goat was now nibbling the rosebushes, too. He’d already left several plants lopsided or completely bare of roses.

  A look of horror flitted across King Midas’s face. But then he made the best of it and laughed. “Don’t worry,” he told Dionysus. “A bit of pruning never hurts roses. In fact, they’ll grow back all the faster for it.”

  Before the goat could do any more damage, however, Medusa and Dionysus ran after him. Silenus took them on a merry chase through the bushes, eventually leading them back to the front door of the stone cottage, where the king waited. By then the sun was beginning to set and the air had grown cool.

  “So when will your new palace be built?” Medusa asked the king, still breathless from the chase as they all entered the cottage.

  “No time soon,” King Midas said matter-of-factly. “It’s much more important to rebuild the homes and farms of the villagers first. However, I do wish there were more money for that purpose.” He sighed. “My royal treasury is running dangerously low after paying for the repairs and rebuilding already in progress. And that’s just the beginning of what’ll be needed.”

  So I’m not the only one with money problems, reflected Medusa. She had to admit, though, that King Midas’s money problems sounded far worse than her own. The fee needed to enter a comic-scroll contest was nothing comp
ared to the mounds of riches it would take to repair an entire kingdom!

  The three of them had barely settled into the chairs around the fireplace, with Silenus curled up at Dionysus’s feet, when a loud crash came from the direction of the garden. A girl’s voice shouted, “Oh no! The teacups!”

  “Excuse me,” King Midas apologized as he rose from his chair. “I’d better go help Tanis clear the dishes.”

  “Sounds like she’s about as gifted at clearing dishes as she is at cooking,” Medusa joked to Dionysus after Midas was out the door.

  Dionysus laughed, which made Medusa smile. She loved to make him laugh. “Seriously, though,” she added, “I wish there were something we could do for the king. Can’t you use your godboy powers to help his kingdom somehow?”

  “I’ve been thinking the same thing,” Dionysus said as he reached down to pet Silenus. The goat’s ears had perked up when he’d heard the crash, but he settled again. Probably too stuffed from all that he’d eaten to bother investigating curious sounds.

  “And?” asked Medusa.

  “And there is something I can do,” said Dionysus. “To reward him for his hospitality and his kindness to Silenus, I was thinking I could grant him a wish.”

  “A magic wish? Awesome idea. I say do it,” Medusa urged him.

  “Do what?” the king asked as he stepped through the door carrying a tray full of broken crockery. He set the tray down on the table near the chairs as Dionysus explained.

  “I must say, that’s a very nice offer,” the king said after Dionysus had finished. “But I’ve enjoyed taking care of Silenus, and I’m delighted to spend the evening with the two of you. Why should I receive a reward for being kind, when kindness is its own reward?”

  “What? No! You have to take it! I mean, those are very fine thoughts,” Medusa said. Then in her usual blunt manner she added, “but kindness alone won’t rebuild your kingdom or help your people.” She paused. “Money could, though.”