He grudgingly admitted that Zeus managed her with a calm he would never own.
Zeus clapped him on the shoulder. “I will hold you to that. We are Gods, yes, but we are family as well. I would have you remember that.” And then his brother went to join his wife.
Poseidon’s eyes swept the chamber, a familiar sense of discontent settling over him.
###
“Is she awake?” Medusa heard her uncle’s voice, but did not acknowledge it. If they thought she slept, she would be left in peace. She’d earned that.
“She is not,” Stheno snapped.
“When she wakes tell her Elpis has arrived. She brings news,” Galenus spoke softly.
Medusa stirred. News – from Elpis? Had she brought word of Ariston? Perhaps he’d come back or was on his way… or injured. She took a deep breath and waited.
“What news?” Stheno’s voice was a whisper.
“I dare not speak the words twice,” Galenus said.
Medusa did not move, though she grew rigid with apprehension. “Send Elpis to me.”
“Are you well, niece?” Galenus asked.
“No, Uncle. I am not.” She made no attempt at pleasantries. “Please send Elpis to me.”
She heard the door shut and knew her sister had sent him away.
She lay, listening to the sounds of the early morning spilling into her bedroom. Such sounds would normally give her ease, lulling her back to sleep. But there would be no sleep, not yet.
“Has Euryale returned?”
“Not yet.” Stheno brushed a long lock from Medusa’s cheek. “She will not give up. You know that.”
Euryale had offered to stay, to search for Medusa’s missing necklace on the rocks of the cliff. Medusa had fought to stay as well, but the Gorgons would hear none of her arguments. Her mind was able but her body was not. Stheno had helped her home with the promise that Euryale would find the carved owl Ariston had made for her.
“Mistress?” Elpis’ voice was unsteady.
Medusa sat up, turning towards her companion with arms outstretched. “Elpis.”
“Oh, lady,” Elpis cried, hugging Medusa to her. “Are you ill?”
“It is plain to see that she is,” Stheno said, startling Elpis into silence.
“Stheno, be kind to my beloved Elpis. She has been a sister to me in my time with Galenus and Xenia. I ask that you treat her as such.” Medusa glanced at her sister, all the while holding Elpis to her.
Stheno straightened. “If she pleases you, then I will try.”
“And you,” Medusa smoothed the soft brown hair on Elpis’ head. “Where did you spend the night?”
“Under the dock.” Elpis shook her head. “I was too afraid to make the journey after dark.”
“That was wise,” Medusa soothed her.
“I am sorry, mistress. I went to the temple…”
“Was Athena there?” Medusa asked.
Elpis shook her head.
“She would not have listened,” Stheno assured, “if she had been there. Her mind was set. Elpis was on a fool’s errand.”
“Mayhap you are right,” Medusa whispered.
“I lost my way coming back to the cave. I could see the docks and went in hopes of hearing news.” Elpis was shaking as she spoke.
“And what have you learned?” Stheno asked.
“The storm was a grave…danger,” Elpis voice wavered. “Ektor said fifteen triremes were lost to the storm alone. And more were taken in battle. Two returned to Athens while the rest went on to Salamis.”
Medusa searched Elpis’ face. “But Ariston is safe and well, is he not?”
Elpis regarded her with troubled brown eyes. “He… he was gravely injured, mistress, though his ship went on to Salamis.”
“He is well,” Medusa whispered fiercely. “He must be.”
“One of the injured soldiers that returned spoke of his bravery. He said your husband fought valiantly.” Elpis’ words were hoarse. “His sword and spear killed more men than any other on his vessel.”
Medusa grasped Elpis’ hands. “Please, please tell me everything you know.”
“He was struck many times. But he did not stop fighting… The storm bore his ship into the path of a Persian vessel and his ship was overrun. The storm tossed them, knocking more than half of their crew into the seas. But Ariston fought on.”
Medusa’s heart swelled. She was proud of him, even as she ached at the thought of his suffering. Sharing Ariston’s battles – his victories – gave him glory.
“A sword struck his chest, a fatal blow. And still, Ariston defeated his foe… He fought until no Persian stood on his decks… Only then did he fall.”
Medusa shook her head, stunned. “No.”
Elpis whispered, “I am sorry, mistress… Pamphilos was in command as they set sail for Salamis.”
“No, no.” Medusa’s voice rose, a high, agitated cry. “He was to be protected. It was part of our bargain. He promised… He promised me Ariston would be safe.”
Elpis’ brow furrowed. And then understanding dawned. “Oh, my lady,” she sobbed anew.
She shook her head, unable to accept Elpis’ words. It was not true. He lived. He must live…
“It is no matter for a God to break their word, sister. They’ve no need to answer to us,” Stheno said. “We will go home tomorrow. It will do you good to be gone from this place and all that has happened here.” She opened the door. “I will tell Galenus that we leave at first light.”
Medusa heard the door shut as Stheno left the room.
“I’m so sorry, mistress.” Elpis clasped her hand, offering support.
Medusa longed to shake off her touch, but she could not move.
“He loved you dearly,” Elpis whispered. “Ektor said he’d turned his ship towards shore to return to you…”
Medusa startled. “What?”
Elpis blushed. “I…I sent him a note. Once I’d learned what your…gift was to be, I ran to the temple. I heard Poseidon’s offer and your answer…and feared the repercussions. I asked for his guidance.”
The air drained from Medusa’s lungs.
“I ask for your forgiveness, mistress. I meant no harm…”
Her heart shattered, pulsing shards of agony through every part of her. He had died knowing her plight. He’d tried to return… She was to blame for his death, then. Such a burden would have clouded his focus, shaken his control…
A sob choked her.
“Elpis,” she gasped, clinging to her companion’s hand in desperation. She had no words, only anguish.
Had she not done everything asked of her? Had she not given everything she had, or was, in her service to Olympus? And still, they had made him suffer. Their soldier had been shown no mercy – or respect.
A peculiar numbness licked at the soles of her feet. Her toes curled as the slow rush of frost moved, traveling up the length of her legs and pricking frigid needles across her stomach. It lodged itself in her chest, turning her heart and lung to ice. She felt heavy and slow, but the pain was less. It was there, screaming at the edge of her consciousness, but she would not yield to it – not yet.
She could not stand Elpis’ touch upon her.
She could not bear to sit in this room.
She would not accept this… this punishment when she had done their will.
“Help me dress.” Medusa’s words were clipped.
“Where are you…?”
“Do not ask me questions, Elpis. Do what I ask.” Medusa did not look at Elpis as she spoke.
“Mistress?”
“Once I’m gone, find Stheno. Tell her we will depart when I return. I have no need of rest. I need only to leave this cursed place.”
Medusa stilled her impatience, standing straight to let Elpis wrap the linen peplos about her. Her restlessness increased as Elpis fussed over the bronze clasps and the drape of the fabric. By the time Elpis started to brush through her hair, she shrugged away.
“Leave it, Elpis.”
Medusa clasped Elpis’ hand in hers, stilling the brush and holding her companion away from her. She reached for her sister’s grey epiblema, covering her head with the shawl.
“How long will you be gone?” Elpis asked.
“Not long,” Medusa hugged Elpis and left quickly.
The walk to the temple stretched before her, though she knew it was no further than on any other day. Yet this day, Ariston’s broad back did not lead the way. His golden curls did not catch the wind and dance in its currents.
Her eyes burned.
She was alone. She must be strong a little longer. Then she would go with her sisters, eagerly.
But first, Athena would know the truth. The Goddess must know all of it.
###
Ariston could see nothing but flat black water, covered here and there by milky white fog.
His eyes scanned the distant shore. He breathed deeply, pushing against his instincts, his wariness. There was nothing left to fear now that he was crossing the River Acheron, the River of Woe, to Hades’ realm.
Life, his life, was over now – for now.
He leaned over the railing, watching as the boat skimmed the surface of the water. The ship made no sound and left no ripple in its wake. The fog shifted, separating into wispy feathers as the ship cut through it to cross the river. He stood, staring ahead. There was no sign of shore.
A single flickering flame cast jumping shadows upon the deck, serving to heighten the nerves of his ship mates. He pitied them, those souls who wondered at their fate in the afterlife. But he had no plans to accept his fate.
He glared at the ferryman, knowing Charon was nothing more than Hades’ servant. But the speed at which they traveled caused him to let out another impatient sigh. He supposed not all of Charon’s passengers were as eager to reach their destination.
The Underworld lay before him, a promise of eternal life. A life without political dilemma, war, or heartache was his. An eternity of merriment, feasting and pleasure was his reward for dying in battle. Elysium waited.
He knew he should be thankful, or sorrowful, over his death. But he could not be.
He could only think of getting back. He would find a way back to her.
As the boat moved forward, the fog began to thin. Before him rose a fortress, bleak and dreary to the eye. Hades’ house.
The fortress waited on the far side of this blue-black lake, fed by all of Hades’ rivers. It dangled from the edge of a sheer cliff face, a jutting outcrop above the lake’s barren shore. There were no trees, no grass, and no animals. But here, nothing lived. Its desolation did little to improve his mood.
“You’ll find favor with the Judges,” a man spoke, shaking Ariston from his reverie.
Ariston glanced at him, uninterested in passing the time with conversation – especially here. He knew he was not alone on Charon’s boat, but he’d taken care not to note his fellow passengers.
“We’ll have to plead our case to them.” The man pointed to the woman and three children huddled together in the boat. “I am … was but a fisherman.”
“My father is a fisherman,” Ariston said. True, his father was more than that. But his father had taught him how to fish. And he felt the need to offer comfort to this man and his family. “It is honorable work.”
The man nodded. “We shall see. All will be well if we stay together.”
Ariston looked at the man’s family again. The youngest, a small girl, clung to her mother. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut. The other children looked no more at ease. The boy, the eldest, held his head up. Only the slight tremor of his lower lip revealed his struggle.
“What happened?” Ariston asked.
“We were caught in the storm.” The man shook his head. “A storm like none I’ve ever seen. Too powerful for my fishing boat, too powerful for some of Athens’ ships as well, I’d wager?”
Ariston’s hands tightened on the railing of the ship. The wood splintered under his grip, burying aged needles into his fingertips. “It was.”
“It came on us quickly, without warning.” The man shrugged. “It was the will of the Gods, the will of Poseidon.”
Ariston clenched his jaw. Poseidon’s will, indeed.
The will of the Gods was no longer something he revered. But he would bide his time carefully. As long as he was here, in the Underworld, he would play the part of Olympus’ loyal servant – so he might find a way back to her.
“His tributes were many,” the man continued, gesturing to the ship.
Ariston turned reluctant eyes in the direction indicated. He did not want to see the full extent of the suffering he’d helped birth. These people, people who had done him no wrong, faced Hades’ judges because of his marriage. No, because his wife attempted fidelity.
“All from the storm?” Ariston asked.
“Most. There are some soldiers, like you, and another too old to have been at sea or in battle.” The man smiled. “It was simply his time.”
Ariston let his eyes wander over the faces of those with him. Most were fearful. Some were resigned. One or two were angry. And then…
“Leandros?” Ariston moved to the young soldier.
“My lord.” He grasped hands with Ariston.
“Did you fall by the sword?” He regarded Leandros, little more than a boy, and felt sadness. He had been an eager recruit. Only he and Ektor had shown true skill in training.
Was Ektor safe? He had left him in Athens, to protect the temple…
“No,” Leandros’ voice was tight as he added, “Our ship was swallowed by the waves. Will that keep me from Elysium?”
Ariston forced the words to come. “You died fighting for Athena, Leandros. Surely Hades will see the glory in that.” His stretched his hands, his frustration barely contained.
Leandros’ brow furrowed. “I am sorry for you, Ariston.”
Ariston looked at the boy, confused.
“My ship left last, as we were no more than a supply vessel.” He paused. “Your lady’s companion? The letter? Ektor found me and bid me find you. I found a sailor on your ship… Did the missive reach you?”
Ariston nodded. “It did.”
Leandros’ eyes were upon him. “Ektor suspected it brought troubling news?” He waited, but Ariston could not deny the truth of his words. “Would that we crossed at Lethe, and let the River of Forgetfulness have you. There can be no peace for you here.”
“There is none,” Ariston agreed.
“What will you do?”
“I will offer my services to Hades,” Ariston paused, “if he will let me go back to my lady.”
“Your services?” Leandros’ face paled.
“I would lend Hades my sword and keep guard at the gates of Tartarus.”
Leandros shook his head. “Your lady would have you find your peace, in Elysium, where you may wait for her.”
Ariston said nothing, knowing the boy was right. Medusa would grieve, but she would honor him and his memory. She would want him to find peace.
But his dreams… He swallowed back the fear that clawed within his chest. Something terrifying would befall Medusa. He knew this, just as he knew he had to return to her.
###
The young priestess turned and smiled, her eyes crinkling pleasantly above the trim of her embroidered veil. “Good afternoon, lady. Have you come to pray or to leave offerings?” She spoke with such sweetness that Medusa simply stared at her.
Had she been so naïve and young? She prayed this girl might remain innocent to the ways of the Gods. There had been true fulfillment in it, when she’d thought her work was meaningful.
A cry went up, Thea’s cry. She had not seen her precious pet since the night…since she’d paid Poseidon’s price. Her little owl was distressed, Medusa could tell. She turned, searching the dimly lit interior for her friend.
“Thea?” she called.
The priestess’ eyes widened. “Is it your owl?”
Medusa spun, turning desperate eyes on the girl.
“Where is she?”
“Athena has her…” The priestess backed up, startled.
“Where?” Medusa asked, her voice rising. “Where is she?”
“Leave us.” Athena’s order brooked no disagreement. She stood, bearing her shield and helmet, glowering at Medusa.
The priestess bowed to the Goddess, then ran from the antechamber.
“You’re forbidden from my temple.” Athena’s face reflected nothing but disdain for Medusa. “I assume you have come to beg for forgiveness?” The Goddess’ brows elevated as she waited for Medusa’s response.
Try as she might, she could not stop the words that tumbled from her lips. “Forgiveness? I need forgiveness, from you?”
“If you’ve not come to beg my favor, you should not be here. Unless you seek punishment for the crimes you’ve committed? To appease your soul?”
“What crimes do you speak of Athena? Faithful servant or faithful wife?” Her voice twisted, her pain challenging her resolve. “There is nothing more that could punish me.”
Athena’s face hardened. “You dare speak to me like this?”
Medusa continued. “When have I failed you? In all the years I’ve served you with my whole heart. And when you freed me I gave it as I chose…”
“You prattle on about your dead man.” Athena shook her head.
“And the hundreds of others who died on the sea, for you, Athena – and for Athens,” she cried.
“You cared little for them when they lived. If you’d taken Poseidon’s offer, none would have suffered,” Athena turned to leave.
“I did, Athena,” Medusa shrieked. “I did. I endured all – to save them and my husband. I had his word it would be so.”
“What?” Athena turned wide eyes to her, coming to stand before her. “When?”
“The storm… I called upon him to stop the storm…” Sorrow silenced her briefly, but she pushed on. “In exchange for the lives of those at sea – all for naught.”
Athena stepped forward, rage upon her face. “Where, Medusa?”
Medusa looked at her. She knew the face of the Goddess. It was a face she’d loved dearly for half of her life. But this look was unrecognizable to her. Burning with violent hatred, her Goddess was… frightening.
Medusa, A Love Story (The Loves of Olympus) Page 17