The snakes were patient at first, because they knew no other life. But they longed for heat and light. The cave bored them and they wouldn’t pretend otherwise. They belonged to Medusa and she belonged to them, and they sighed and seethed until she accepted that she could not hide away from the light they craved.
And then the snakes relaxed because they had the light she needed. It was not – they had realized – in Medusa’s nature to hide away. However protective the Gorgons were of one another, she could never have sustained herself by hiding in the cave. Sthenno wanted to welcome Medusa back outside, but Euryale shook her head. Medusa needed to find her way back to life step by step. She had lost so much so quickly – her body, her hair, her sight – that she could repair herself only slowly.
But she did. The snakes were her eyes now, and although she was less sure-footed outside the cave, she had little fear of falling or injuring herself: she had wings, after all. And the mass of snakes could look in every direction at once. It took time for Euryale to stop shadowing her sister as Medusa felt her way around the shore, but gradually she did. The sheep took fright at Medusa’s changed appearance, but they too grew used to the metamorphosis. This Gorgon now resembled the others more closely, and the sheep knew that Gorgons were no threat to them.
The sisters settled into a new life that was closer to the old life than any of them had imagined could be possible. Medusa saw all she needed to see and it was enough.
‘We are one and we are many,’ said Sthenno, as she pulled hot puffy bread from atop the charred wood and gave it to her sister. Medusa’s snakes would not approach the fire at all, and anyway, cooking for her sister was Sthenno’s passion. Euryale nodded, and Medusa raised her head towards the light of the evening sun.
‘Are we still one?’ she asked. ‘Even after everything?’
‘We will always be one,’ said Sthenno. ‘One family of Gorgons.’
‘But I’ve changed so much,’ said Medusa. Sthenno could hear the frown that the bindings covered.
‘You’ve changed every day,’ said Euryale thickly. She liked the taste of warm bread even if she didn’t need it. ‘Since you were a baby.’
‘I suppose so,’ said Medusa.
‘It’s true,’ replied Sthenno. ‘You were so small and could hardly move. And then you grew longer and then you stood up and grew taller.’
‘The noise,’ Euryale added.
‘You used to cry,’ Sthenno agreed. ‘And then you learned to talk.’
‘But I was always me,’ said Medusa. ‘I never changed.’
‘You always changed and never changed,’ Sthenno said.
‘Then how did you know I was still Medusa?’
‘Because of the ways you stayed the same,’ Euryale said. ‘Everything changes except the gods. We don’t think the sheep have stopped being sheep because we sheared them.’
Medusa ate in silence for a while. ‘But you always had each other,’ she said. ‘And you never change.’
Sthenno looked at Euryale and smiled, her outermost tusks pointing in towards her nose. ‘We do change,’ she said. ‘You changed us, when you came here.’
‘And you didn’t mind?’ Medusa asked.
‘No,’ said Euryale. ‘Gorgons aren’t supposed to be like gods. We belong here, in the place between the land and the sea, not on a lofty mountain. They put our image on the outside of temples, not within. We look out on mortals, not down on them. When Phorcys delivered you to our shore, he brought you to where you needed to be.’
‘So I wouldn’t die, or embarrass him,’ said Medusa. The Gorgons had discussed this a great deal before.
‘Yes,’ said Sthenno. ‘And so we would become three, as we were meant to be.’
‘How do you know we were meant to be three?’
‘Because we are three now,’ Sthenno replied. ‘You ask so many questions.’
‘So was I meant to have snake hair? Was I meant to be more like you?’ Medusa asked. And this, Euryale realized, was the question that had been gnawing at her sister’s heart.
‘No,’ she said. ‘That was just Athene, finding a clever way to punish you. Clever, as she thinks of it, I mean. She would have been so pleased with herself, punishing you by making you a monster, like your sisters.’
‘You aren’t monsters,’ Medusa said.
‘Neither are you. Who decides what is a monster?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Medusa. ‘Men, I suppose.’
‘So to mortal men, we are monsters. Because of our teeth, our flight, our strength. They fear us, so they call us monsters.’
‘But they don’t know who you are.’ Medusa stopped eating and turned from one sister to the other. The snakes never stopped swirling around her head. ‘Men call you monsters because they don’t understand you.’
‘I don’t mind being a monster,’ Euryale replied. ‘I would rather have power than not. I like being what scares them.’ There was a pause. ‘I like you having snakes,’ she added. ‘I didn’t like how they hurt you at first. I didn’t like how you lost your hair. But I don’t see this change as any different from the others, except we know who caused this one.’
‘I don’t mind the snakes as much now,’ said Medusa. ‘I do miss my hair.’
Panopeia
He is almost upon them, though he doesn’t know it. He has travelled across the sea and along the coast, and he has never stopped petitioning his father for aid. He knows he cannot do what has been asked of him without divine assistance. Some people, I know, find humility an endearing trait. Others might wonder why one bastard child deserves so much attention.
And now he is closing in on the Gorgons, ready to kill a creature that has done him no harm just to acquire a trophy for a man he despises. Men often kill for trophies, I suppose: animals, certainly. But not the children of gods. Not often. And not with the help of other, mightier gods.
It makes me wonder – and I never wonder because I see it all – is no one going to rouse Phorcys? Will no one call to Ceto? Will these immortals not rise up from the deep to protect their daughter? Perseus wants to save his mother from marriage: will neither of these sea gods intervene to save their daughter from death? From mutilation? Are they afraid of Zeus or has no one told them she is in danger?
Her sisters don’t know what’s coming, of that I am sure. Neither would blink before she defended Medusa from a son of Zeus, no matter how much power he had. Euryale would tear his head from his shoulders and take the consequences without fear.
And perhaps she will. Because I have watched Perseus for many days now, and he is as likely to fail in his quest as succeed, I would say.
From the water, all we can do is watch.
Athene
‘But we only just got back.’ The goddess scuffed her foot against the perfect marble floor.
‘Well, how fortunate that you can be anywhere more or less instantly,’ said Zeus.
‘I know, but . . .’
‘But nothing. He is my son and I’m asking you to go and help him.’
‘We have helped him,’ Athene snapped. ‘If it hadn’t been for me he would have drowned in a box years ago.’