‘Oh, the Hesperides!’ said Athene. ‘We should have thought of that.’
Hermes nodded thoughtfully, while Perseus tried to blink the wind-pricked tears from his eyes. ‘Yes,’ Hermes agreed. ‘We probably should have.’
‘Is there a reason why you didn’t?’ Perseus was trying to sound interested rather than critical, but his fingers were going numb and he was finding it difficult to hold on.
‘I don’t know,’ said Hermes.
‘Could we go there now?’ asked Perseus.
‘Where?’ said Hermes.
‘Wherever the Hesperides are.’
‘Didn’t you ask the Graiai where you could find them?’ said Athene.
‘No.’ A particularly belligerent gust almost sent him flying. ‘No, I was hoping you would know.’
‘We can’t do everything for you,’ she replied. ‘Maybe you should go back and ask them for directions.’
Perseus thought he might just let go and allow the winds to take him to his death. ‘I’m not sure they would tell me now,’ he said.
‘Oh, did you annoy them?’ she asked.
‘I tricked them,’ he said. ‘So they would tell me what I needed to know.’
‘I see,’ said Hermes. He and Athene exchanged a glance. ‘We were hoping you’d do a little more.’
‘I will try to do better next time,’ said Perseus. ‘If there is a next time.’
‘I’m not sure I would encourage you to embark on other quests,’ said Athene. ‘You’re not doing well at all, not even by the standards of a mortal.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Perseus was crying from the bitter cold, but if he hadn’t been, he would have wept.
‘What do you think?’ asked Hermes.
‘It’s what Zeus wants us to do,’ she replied. ‘Help him.’
‘I suppose we must,’ said Hermes.
‘Thank you.’ Perseus could scarcely open his locked jaw to set the words free. But in a moment the buffeting winds were gone, and the salt spray was gone, and the sharp rock was gone.
*
He blinked and raised his hands to his face to wipe away the tears. His fingers snagged in his salt-rimed hair: even when he and Dictys had been caught in a storm, he had never found himself in such a state. He saw water in front of him, a gently flowing stream. He cupped his hands to drink and spat it straight back out.
‘It’s seawater,’ Athene told him.
‘I can tell now I’ve tasted it,’ he said. ‘I thought it was a river.’
‘A lot of people would probably make that mistake,’ she said. ‘Because it flows so far inland. But it’s still part of the sea.’
The gods had been entirely untouched by the wind and the ocean and Perseus now remembered that they would also be untouched by thirst. ‘Is there fresh water nearby, do you know?’ he asked.
‘Probably,’ she said. ‘Somewhere.’
‘I’ll go and look in a moment if that’s alright.’
‘Of course it is,’ Athene replied. ‘You could refill your water-skin then, couldn’t you?’ She looked again at Hermes, delighted with herself.
Perseus had been concentrating so hard on not dying, and then on interrogating the Graiai, and then on not dying again, that he had completely forgotten he was carrying a water-skin. He pulled on the leather strap that had held it in place across his body. As the flask appeared by his ribs, he reached across for it and winced in pain.
‘Are you hurt?’ asked Hermes.
‘No,’ Perseus admitted. He had come off the Graiai’s rock with cuts and bruises but nothing too severe. He felt the greatest discomfort in his biceps and his calves, and thought of all the times he had helped Dictys with his nets, or carried home their catch. He had believed himself strong, but his quest had already found him wanting. He unstopped the bottle and drank deeply. He wanted to pour water over his salt-crusted eyelids but he worried he would need it to drink later.
‘Where are we?’ he asked.
‘The island of the Hesperides, of course,’ said Athene. ‘Where did you think we’d take you?’
Hermes shook his head slowly. No wonder he usually delivered a message from Zeus and then disappeared. Mortals were tiresome company.
Perseus looked around him. After the desolate island of the Graiai, he was relieved to see that the Hesperides lived in a more appealing location. Seagrass and prickly pears grew on the banks of the river which was not a river. Then came the soft sand on which he now sat, drinking his water and enjoying the warmth of the sun. He was a little confused by the way he could see the far bank of the stream, but nothing beyond it, as a thick fog obscured everything else. But he tried not to concern himself because when he turned to look the other way, he saw lush green of every variety. He saw fat-leaved trees growing above thick grass. Bright red and purple flowers sprang out from among the darkest leaves like the sparkling fish he and Dictys used to see in the deepest waters. Accustomed to living only on the sand and the sea, he didn’t think he had ever seen so many colours before.
‘What’s he doing?’ asked Athene.
Hermes shrugged. ‘Looking?’
‘What at?’
‘I don’t know.’
The two gods followed the young man’s gaze, but they saw nothing remarkable.
Athene stepped closer to Perseus and leaned down. ‘These aren’t the Hesperides,’ she said slowly. ‘They’re just plants.’
‘They’re beautiful,’ said Perseus, scrambling awkwardly to his feet and trying not to groan as his calf muscles screamed.
‘Oh, good,’ said Hermes. ‘The nymphs will be glad you like them, I’m sure.’ He looked across the top of Perseus’s head at Athene. ‘We’ll come back,’ he said.
And the sea mist seemed to rise up and take them, because Perseus saw a blur and then an absence and realized he was once again alone. He had the feeling he was irritating his divine companions, but he didn’t really know why, so he didn’t know how to stop. It was a relief when they left, even though he was afraid of what he might find ahead of him.
He reminded himself of what the Graiai had said: the nymphs had something he needed. And nymphs surely wouldn’t be as disgusting as those hags. He pushed away the memory of their warm, slippery eye between his fingers. He took a few steps inland and wondered which way he should go. If the island belonged to the nymphs, they could be anywhere. And how big was their island anyway? Seriphos was an island but it would take many days to search. And – he reminded himself as his thigh muscles pleaded with him to sit back down – he did not have many days. He stood still and listened. There were so many birds flitting among the trees, all he could hear was their song. He wondered if he would even recognize the voice of a nymph if he heard her. He could not know, of course, that the Hesperides already knew he was there, and were laughing as they hid from him.
*
The Hesperides were not hiding because they feared the arrival of this mortal man: they feared no one. They were hiding because they lived in paradise and they had long since run out of interesting things to do. The arrival of a man – or was he a boy? – had thrown their predictably perfect day into turmoil and they were all delighted. Some hid in the apple trees, others disappeared into the waters of the beautiful lake at the centre of the island. They watched Perseus crash around their flawless gardens looking behind rocks and up trees and they sniggered at his foolishness and ignorance. Had he never seen a nymph before? Perhaps he believed they were the size of a stoat. Occasionally, Perseus would stand still, look around him, take a deep breath, and shout, ‘Show yourselves, nymphs.’ This only made them laugh harder.