‘Why don’t you like him?’ asked Deino.
‘Because he’s a liar and a thief,’ said Pemphredo. ‘You shouldn’t like him either.’
Perseus looked from one to another, and wondered who he should be addressing.
‘They sent me to seek your help,’ he said into the space between them. ‘With my quest.’
Deino threw back her ancient head and laughed. The other two women joined in. Perseus wondered if mocking him was the only thing the old hags agreed on.
‘With your quest?’ said Enyo. ‘What kind of quest would that be?’
Perseus straightened his shoulders. ‘I seek the head of a Gorgon,’ he replied.
All sounds of merriment ceased.
‘The head of a Gorgon?’ said Deino. ‘Now what made the gods think we would help you with that?’
‘I have to take it back to Polydectes,’ Perseus said, in case they thought he was just greedy. ‘Otherwise he demands that my mother marry him.’
‘And why would we care about your mother’s marital plans?’ asked Enyo.
‘She wants to stay with Dictys,’ said Perseus, but he could feel his voice getting smaller.
‘It doesn’t matter what she wants if we don’t care about her,’ said Pemphredo. ‘Mortals are all the same,’ she said to her sisters. ‘They think their concerns are everyone’s concerns.’
‘So you don’t want to help me?’ Perseus asked.
It was Enyo who replied. ‘Why would we? What’s in it for us?’
‘What do you want? I could get it for you.’ Perseus had no idea how he could get anything for these old women, not least because he didn’t know how he could get away from their cliff or get back here with whatever it was they asked for.
‘What do we want?’ asked Deino. ‘That’s a good question. What do we want?’ The three sisters muttered to each other for a moment and Perseus waited, hoping they might want something that was just outside the cave.
‘Another eye,’ said Pemphredo.
‘Two more eyes,’ corrected Deino.
‘Each,’ said Enyo.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘We want more eyes,’ Enyo repeated. ‘We share one.’
‘I don’t understand,’ said Perseus. ‘What do you mean, you share one?’
‘It isn’t difficult,’ said Pemphredo. ‘We only have one eye, and we have to share it. Some of us get less of a share than others.’
‘How do you share it?’ he asked, staring into the darkness. He had assumed that their eye sockets were wrinkled because they were old, but now that he knew he was looking at empty space, he could see it. ‘One of you just tells the others what she can see? Is that right?’
‘No,’ screeched Pemphredo, as she and Deino attacked Enyo together. There was a muffled fight and then it was Deino who stepped forward, and blinked a single eye in his direction.
‘You see?’ said Pemphredo. ‘I never get a turn.’
‘You had a turn yesterday,’ snapped Enyo. ‘You never remember your turns, so you always make a fuss about nothing.’
‘I haven’t had it once today,’ Pemphredo replied. ‘You and Deino have stolen my turn.’ Deino rolled the communal eye. And Perseus realized the sisters were speaking quite literally. They took turns using one eyeball between them. He shuddered at the thought, and then hoped Deino hadn’t noticed.
‘Have you only ever had one eye?’ Perseus asked. He had no idea where he could possibly find more eyes for these old women to use.
‘Of course we have!’ said Enyo. ‘Do you think we had more eyes and put them down somewhere? Misplaced them?’ She turned her unseeing face to her sisters. ‘This is a waste of time. He won’t help us. He can’t. He’s a fool.’
‘I’m not a fool,’ said Perseus, who felt he had been belittled enough for one day. ‘I just didn’t understand at first. I haven’t met anyone like you before, and I was trying to learn more about you before I fulfil your demands.’
There was another pause, but this time – even Perseus could tell – it was different. There was no mockery, no cruelty in this silence, but something else: a scrap of hope.
‘We only ever had one eye,’ said Deino.
‘And one tooth,’ added Pemphredo.
‘That’s why we didn’t know if we could eat you,’ said Enyo. ‘We have to take turns to eat and see. And no one can ever see what she’s eating.’
‘You can’t have the eye and the tooth at once?’ Perseus asked.
‘Who would give them back if she had everything?’ said Deino.
For the first time since he had walked into the cave Perseus felt something other than fear and disgust. To have so little, to live so pitiable a life that a partial share in a single tooth and eye could seem like everything. And just as he felt the surge of pity, he knew what to do.
‘Could I see the eye, please?’ he said. ‘And the tooth?’
‘Of course not!’ screamed Deino. ‘Of course you cannot. Why would we give you the eye or the tooth? You might take them and keep them and never give them back. Mortals are all the same: greedy, deceitful and cruel. Everyone knows. How dare you even ask?’
But Perseus noticed that the other two did not share her fury. Without the eye, they had less to lose.
‘It would make it much easier for me to find more eyes for you if I’ve seen your eye properly,’ he said. ‘Otherwise I won’t know exactly what I’m looking for. And I am sure that’s why the gods sent me here today: so I could help you.’
‘No,’ said Deino.
‘How about the tooth?’ asked Pemphredo. ‘Would it help if you saw the tooth?’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Perseus.
‘Hand it over, Enyo,’ said her sister.
‘I don’t want to,’ said Enyo. ‘I want to eat something first. The tooth isn’t the same as the eye. You have to eat with it or there’s no point having it. You’re just minding it until the next meal.’
‘We ate before the boy arrived,’ said Pemphredo. ‘I’m not hungry. Just give him the tooth.’
‘No,’ said Enyo.
‘We can take it if you won’t give it up,’ Deino said. ‘I’m not giving him the eye so you’ll have to give up the tooth.’
‘You can’t take it. I’m stronger than both of you.’
‘You’re not stronger than both of us at the same time,’ said Pemphredo. ‘Not if we hold you and the boy takes the tooth.’
Perseus loved his mother with what he believed was a single-minded devotion but he hoped from his innermost soul that this was not the only way to find a Gorgon’s head.
‘Very well,’ said Enyo and reached into her mouth. She took out one large tooth and held it up in her hand. Deino rotated her towards Perseus so she was reaching the right way. And – his whole body rigid to disguise his horror – Perseus stepped forward and took the tooth from her leathery fingers. He stepped back again and peered at it, holding it up to the dingy light.
‘Ah, I see,’ he said.