Athena's Child (The Grecian Women Trilogy)

by Hannah M. Lynn

Perhaps all monsters are born. Then again, perhaps it is just a way of hiding the darkness we all carry within us.

Medusa grew from monsters, but she was not born of them.

‘I am Perseus. Son of —’ ‘Son of Zeus, we heard you.’ ‘It’s our eyes that have gone, not our ears.’ ‘Must be a half-mortal. Stupid like a mortal.’

Perseus’ eyes flitted. The light had helped a little, but should he get turned around again in the dark he would have no way to regain his bearings. ‘You can lead the way,’ he said. The now-familiar cackle broke into the air. ‘How? We cannot see, you fool. Did you not listen a minute ago? What you have in muscles, you have lost in brain cells.’

‘I hear you gave the Graeae a scare.’ Hermes perched himself on the edge of the stern with a casual arrogance Perseus had grown to associate with him. ‘Me? I think it was the other way around. For blind old women, they can move quickly.’

‘If I succeed, I will return before the first rays of sunrise,’ he told them before he left. ‘You will see my boat leaving from the shore. If I am not within your sight before the sun breaks the horizon, go. Do not wait. Do not, under any circumstances, follow me to the island. Leave. Sail fast. You will have the gods on your side and the wind at your back. When you reach land, build an altar to the gods in my name. To my father. My siblings. If I do not succeed in my task, it will be of my inadequacies, not theirs. You will be free men. By Athena’s will, sell this boat and split the proceeds among you. It will see you all rich men.’ It would be a true test of their loyalty, Perseus considered, to see whether they were pleased to see him return or not.

Many, many years had passed since she last felt such a sensation. Fear. She was afraid.

‘Gods do not pay the price for their wrongdoings, Perseus. Mortals do. The gods, like the rich of the world, push their agendas onto those whose voices are not loud enough to speak for themselves. The women. The weak. The unwanted. And no one shouts for those who need it the most. Why would they? To shout for another is to risk losing something yourself. And man cannot see beyond the depth of his own reflection.’

There is nothing like the truth to silence men.

‘Your mother,’ she said, prompting him to continue. ‘Tell me about her.’ He did not start immediately, and even when he did, there was a hesitancy to his tone, a stiltedness as the words left his lips. ‘She raised me. There were other people too, I had a family, but my mother she is … special. That sounds silly, I know. Every child must feel the same, but my mother is … she was chosen by Zeus for a reason. No better person could I have wished for in my life.’ A dull throb extended out from her chest, a reminiscence of the way she had felt about her father. ‘She is betrothed to a man,’ Perseus continued. ‘A powerful man. A king.’ ‘And this displeases you?’ ‘He is vile,’ Perseus spat his words. ‘Hideous and rotten to the core.’ Medusa listened on, pity swelling in her heart. The passageway she had slipped into felt longer than it had. She felt no risk in moving a little closer towards Perseus as he continued to talk. ‘This king, he has no shame. His eyes, they wandered across her like a prize. A goat for slaughtering. My mother; she is a strong woman. A brave woman. She has endured so much. Yet I wonder how much this man will test even her will. When I consider … When I …’ His words drifted into his thoughts. It didn’t matter. Medusa knew their meaning. She had felt them herself all those years. ‘And you are here because of him?’ she said. ‘I promised him the head of the Gorgon as a wedding present.’ ‘A bold present indeed. You know my gaze would turn any man who looked upon...

‘But if I am right, I will be saving both you and my mother.’ ‘I am beyond saving,’ she replied. ‘You are not. You could turn around now and leave with your life.’ He gave the comment only the briefest consideration. ‘Either I leave this island with your head or not at all,’ he said. ‘Please, this will work. Let me do this for you.’

With doubt and fear shadowing her heart, she heard the clang as the mirrored shield fell to the ground and saw the flash of light only a moment later. Her eyes and her serpent’s eyes darted to look at it. For the first time in two thousand years, she saw herself, as clearly as all the men that had stood in front of her. The young girl, full of optimism, was long gone, although there, in the depth of her irises, she saw the slightest glimmer of hope.

For the longest while, he slept with her head beneath his bed. It was not for fear of what his men would do with it - though that thought had crossed his mind. He kept it there for himself and the Priestess. This was her momentary sanctuary after years of torment. When

Meanwhile, Medusa’s truth was lost, and all that remained was the story of monsters and heroes, though the world would never truly know which was which.