‘Please let me have my tunic,’ he said. ‘My mother made it for me and I might never see her again.’
‘Oh, the poor boy,’ said one. ‘Losing his mother, so young.’
‘When did we last see our mother?’ asked her sister.
Fat tears flowed down the first nymph’s face. Perseus wanted to comfort her but feared that if he left the water now, his intentions might be misconstrued.
‘You’ve upset her,’ said another of the Hesperides.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘If I could just have my tunic—’
But none of the nymphs was listening. They flocked to their sister, embracing her. Not knowing what else to do, Perseus climbed onto the bank, discovered his cloak near where he had left it, and wrapped that around himself. When one of the Hesperides noticed, she too burst into tears, and had to be comforted by the others. Perseus wondered if he should ask again for his tunic, but he feared the response. He decided to try a different strategy.
‘I am sorry to have caused so much distress,’ he said. Sniggering broke out again. He knew he sounded pompous and foolish – if anything, he sounded like Polydectes – but he didn’t know how to address the Hesperides. They were powerful but also beautiful; immortal but emotional. They had nothing whatsoever in common with the girls he had grown up with in the fishing village.
The Hesperides, meanwhile, were beginning to tire of their diversion. It had all been very entertaining, seeing this mortal man who Athene and Hermes had decided to bring to them. It had been fun hiding from him, more fun stealing his clothes and teasing him. But there was something so monotonous about mortals, which was one of many reasons why they usually kept their distance. The boy wanted something, and he would ask for it and they would either reward or deny him. But what did they get from the encounter?
They had quite enjoyed seeing him naked, but was he really more delightful than the creatures that lived in their garden? Aegle seemed to think so （she was always the most emotional one: this was how she could cry at will）。 But Arethusa would not have minded if he had drowned in the lake, so long as he gave the fish something to nibble on. Erytheia, meanwhile, preferred the snakes that twisted their muscular bodies around the golden apple trees, though she was enjoying wearing the man’s shoes. Hesperie had not even bothered to come down to meet him: she would have to remove her lovely hairband if they were all to appear the same. And after going to all the trouble of acquiring it, and choosing one with such a beautiful chequered pattern, she was hardly likely to take it off just to play a trick on some trivial man. It had taken her the longest time to tie it just right, under her hair. Chrysothemis asked if she didn’t want the mortal to see it and admire her, but what did she care if he admired her hair or not? He would be dead soon, either way. Lipara, meanwhile, was sure that the man had broken a twig off her favourite laurel tree as he blundered through their garden. She was sitting beside Arethusa on the tunic, wondering if they should push him back into the water and hold him under. Neither of them could completely remember if this was fatal to mortals, but so much was dangerous for them that it might be worth the attempt. But then there was Antheia, standing beside the olive trees, gazing at the man with frank hunger. If he were to ask for an apple （generally, when anyone approached the Hesperides, it had something to do with the apples）， she would have handed over a whole tree.
‘What do you want?’ Chrysothemis finally asked the boy and he mumbled something about the Graiai and a quest. He stumbled over his words and mangled his story at every stage, but eventually, the nymphs uncovered what had happened. He was on a quest to take a Gorgon’s head to appease some mortal who would otherwise marry the boy’s mother. Even Arethusa was intrigued by this element: what could the man possibly do with a Gorgon’s head that would compensate him for losing a wife? Surely the more suitable gift would be a bride who liked him better than the boy’s mother apparently did? The nymphs murmured among themselves, aware that the boy could not hear them unless they chose. The whole thing sounded so peculiar. What had the Gorgons done to be embroiled in this young man’s family matters? Nothing, came the reply. As far as they could tell, he did not seem to have thought about the Gorgons at all. Ordered to fetch the head of one of them, he had simply set out to do so with no thought for how the Gorgon might feel about giving it up.
So did they send him away empty-handed? That was the most obvious response. And yet, Athene and Hermes had brought him here: two gods working together could only mean that they were carrying out the will of Zeus, surely? And although the nymphs largely shared a view on the subject of Zeus, they could not wholly disregard what the old lech wanted. Especially not if he was sending Athene – as observant as she was spiteful – and Hermes, who would tell tales if they ignored him.
And then there was the matter of the Graiai. The grey sisters were not easily impressed. And the boy must have done something to earn their help. He was rather vague about exactly what that had been. Hesperie – who had joined the debate even though she wasn’t interested in the outcome – said he must have been very persuasive for the gods to help him, and the sisters too. So they should assist him in his quest, should they? Lipara was quite sure they should not, at least not until her laurel tree had regrown its missing branch. He had said something about the number of days he had left before the man married his mother regardless of his quest. But who could remember how many days it took a laurel tree to grow?
Whatever the nymphs felt about Perseus, they decided it could not influence their decision. The presence of the gods, the involvement of the Graiai: these things were too important to overlook. What did a mortal need to decapitate a Gorgon? There was evidently no point asking the boy what he required: he hadn’t even known he needed the nymphs until the Graiai told him. So they worked it out among themselves, while he stood there, useless and hopeful. A sword, obviously. He had one already but it was like a child’s practice sword, although all the Hesperides agreed that he had no idea this was the case. He carried his sword with great seriousness, but looked like a boy playing with his father’s weapon. So he needed something suited to the task: a harpē, with its vicious curved blade, would be more appropriate. And something to carry the head, once he had it. They discussed the options. There was a kibisis hidden away somewhere: that would take the weight. Very well, the sword, the bag, what else? He would need to move a great deal faster than mortals usually could if he was to outrun the Gorgons. And he would need to hide from them. The nymphs considered these requirements for some time. Winged sandals, usually worn by Hermes, would be ideal: the messenger god could loan the boy his shoes. Hermes could travel perfectly well without them, they were just an affectation. But they did have one more item they could lend Perseus and after much discussion, they agreed they would. The nymphs had come into possession – none of them could quite recall how – of a cap that had once belonged to Hades. No one could imagine why he would have needed a cap which threw darkness all around it, rendering the wearer invisible. Hades was in the Underworld or – occasionally – on Olympus. In neither of these places would he ever need to go unseen. Perhaps this was why he had given it to whichever nymph had brought it to the island. Or she had acquired it, assuming Hades didn’t need it any more. And while they were on the subject of who needed what, if Perseus was borrowing winged sandals from Hermes, the nymphs could surely keep his shoes. Should they ask, before sending him on his way? He had left them unattended beside their lake, on their island, so that meant the sandals practically belonged to the Hesperides already. One nymph had already worn them, another had put them safely beneath a rock. They glanced down at him, and it was perfectly clear that Perseus would leave barefoot rather than ask for his sandals back.