Medusa, A Love Story (The Loves of Olympus) (22 page)

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.

“I know not. Nor does it matter.”

“Does it not?”Athena’s eyebrow arched. Her face was taut with tension. “I have something of yours, I think.”

“Thea?” Medusa searched the temple, Thea’s call faint but audible. “Your gift, and my dearest companion.”

“Not Thea, though I have her too. She is caged.”

“Why?” Medusa shared Thea’s betrayal, then. Athena had loved the owl first, before she’d caged her. 

“She attacked one of the guards.” Athena continued to watch at her, with critical eyes. “She blinded him in one eye.”

Medusa shook her head, stunned. Thea would never attack unwarranted. “She would not…”

“Yet she did.” Athena held her hand forward, “For this.” The Goddess opened her hand.

The leather cord was wrapped about the Goddess’ fingers, but the carved owl swung freely. Medusa reached for it, her heart swelling. But Athena pulled her hand away.

“It is mine,” Medusa heard the pleading of her voice and hated it. It was all she had left of him. “Thea knew it meant a great deal to me. She would have brought it to me…”

“Do you know where she found it, Medusa?” Athena shook her head. “On the night of that cursed storm my temple was struck dark. My priestess fled, hiding in the robes room as its lamp stayed bright. Once the storm ended, she returned to the antechamber to light the candles.” Her eyes narrowed as she sneered at Medusa. “And on the dais of my temple she saw a man bent over a woman. At first she feared he’d brought someone injured by the storm, for the sounds of groaning and carrying on. Until it became clear that the pair were otherwise occupied. She waited in the shadows, but he would not finish with the woman. And when the sun rose, the man carried the woman out of the temple, leaving this necklace and a plain brown cloak upon the floor. The floor of my temple,” She pointed at Medusa. “My temple, Medusa. The Temple of Athena Polias – chaste and wise.”

Medusa could not speak.

She’d not seen anything, a kindness she’d not expected from Poseidon. But she knew now Poseidon had done more than use her body. He had used her as an offense against Athena – an unforgivable offense. “I did not know.” How could she have known? “Why would he do such a thing?”

Athena laughed, clearly astounded. “Truly, Medusa, your pretense is too much. A man can satiate his lust with you and you remember none of it?”

“If only that were true,” Medusa pushed her sadness aside, favoring the warmth of her anger. “Dismiss my words as lies. But ask Poseidon. He will preen proudly.”

Athena’s lip curled in disdain. “Your faithless dalliances are abominable enough. Do not speak my uncle’s name or link him to such perfidy. Even Poseidon would not to do the things you suggest.”

“Why else would the storm stop?” Medusa asked.

“Because Zeus willed it so.” She shook her head. “My father sent him to see it done.”

Medusa mulled this over. “Did your priestess not see Poseidon?”

“Do you think my priestess would not know Poseidon? That Poseidon would pass unrecognized by anyone? A prouder peacock I know not.” She paused, a look of distaste coloring her cheeks. “He is well rid of you. As is your husband, no doubt well honored by Hades. You are a faithless deceiver, the likes of which I have never known.”

Medusa’s heart, what little there was left, crumbled.

She had been another attempt to prod at his niece. Poseidon’s ill use of her, in Athena’s temple, gave him pleasure for his body and fed his feud with Athena. All while keeping him without fault… If he denied it was he, as she suspected, her words meant nothing. 

It was her word against that of a God. Albeit a faithless, lying, and manipulative deity, but still an Olympian.

She swallowed against the rising anger – and defeat.

“I’ve done nothing but love, Athena.” Whether Zeus had instructed Poseidon to come, whether her entreaty, her sacrifice, had been unnecessary, she no longer cared – nothing mattered now. “I will take Thea and leave this place. I will go to my father’s house, beyond the Sea River, far from Athens.” She would leave this place.