And then, as you could surely have guessed, he catches sight of me and he says nothing ever again. Three of his bodyguards are looking in the same direction, and they petrify in the same instant. The others – seeing their comrades are now statues and their king is dead – run for their lives.
As he returns me to the bag, Perseus remarks that he will leave the men where they stand as a warning to others.
The last thing I hear is Dictys, calmly responding to the death of his brother by saying he would prefer it if they took the statues away and buried them under the sand. Perseus agrees reluctantly, but they bury them all, just the same.
Hera
‘I wonder if it’s a good precedent to set, my love.’ Hera stood behind Zeus as she stroked her husband’s shoulders, so he wouldn’t see her expression of disdain.
‘I’m sure it is,’ he replied. Hera waited. ‘What precedent?’
‘Your bastard son,’ she said. Even though she could not see his face, she knew his eyes were darting from place to place, trying to work out which one she meant, and whether she had only just discovered him. ‘Perseus has just killed the king of Seriphos.’
‘Oh, good,’ said Zeus. His wife’s grip tightened briefly but she didn’t speak. Zeus thought for a moment. ‘He was a very unjust king,’ he said. ‘The islanders have prayed for deliverance for some time.’
‘I see,’ said Hera. ‘Well, then, I’m sure I don’t need to worry.’
‘No,’ said her husband. ‘Why were you worrying?’
‘Nothing, really,’ she replied. ‘I just wondered if it was a good idea to allow young upstarts to go around killing kings and face no penalty.’
‘He’s my son,’ said Zeus. ‘He can do whatever he likes, within reason.’
‘I thought this might be without reason,’ Hera said. ‘The king seems to have done nothing beyond decide to marry some woman, and it’s difficult to imagine anyone could have resented that.’
‘These things happen,’ said her husband.
‘I worry that people might start to think they can overthrow any ruler they don’t like,’ she continued. ‘If this behaviour goes unpunished.’
‘It runs in the family,’ Zeus retorted. ‘I myself—’
‘You aren’t the upstart any more,’ his wife said. ‘You’re the old king.’
‘Mortals aren’t going to overthrow the king of the gods,’ Zeus said. ‘They wouldn’t dare. Who would attempt such a thing?’
‘Not mortals,’ Hera murmured, leaning in close.
‘Then who? I already suppressed the rebellions of the Titans and the giants. Who is left to rise up against the Olympians, against me?’
‘Well, those two aren’t quite the same thing, are they?’ she said. ‘What if one of the Olympians decides to take his chance?’
‘None would succeed,’ he stated. ‘Who?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I just worried it was setting a bad example.’
‘Well, it isn’t.’
‘That’s wonderful,’ Hera said, singing to herself as she walked away.
Gorgoneion
Blood is spilled before statues are made. The scale of the wedding massacre surprises even me. I’m not sure why, because he has shown no remorse on any of the previous occasions. But the numbers are dizzying. I don’t know if it surprises me that I can kill so many at once – dozens, then hundreds – or whether it is that Perseus cannot even engage in what is traditionally a happy occasion without mass murder.
Obviously, it isn’t the fault of Andromeda’s parents. Battered by the multitude of disasters that have recently beset them, they keep quiet when Perseus leaves and they stay quiet when he returns （though they have been wishing for their daughter’s sake that he will not）。 They agree politely with the happy couple that this wedding is an opportunity to unite the people of their troubled country after the recent struggles. Andromeda and her mother choose her dress, Perseus and her father choose the guests. His mother will not be attending, he explains, because of the distance involved. But he and his new wife will be heading back to the Greek mainland and they will travel via Seriphos. Cepheus and Cassiope agree to everything, and the day of the wedding goes smoothly until the guests arrive. Unusually, it isn’t Perseus who starts the fight.
*
Andromeda had been promised to another, to her uncle Phineus. But he disappeared when the country was flooded and failed to reappear when Andromeda was taken by the priests. Phineus was therefore presumed – by the royal household, at least – to be dead. But Phineus was very much alive, at least until the wedding day. He had been hiding in the mountains, having retreated to higher ground when the water came. Then there was talk of blasphemy and divine retribution and a sea monster, and he saw no reason to leave. If it came as a surprise to find his betrothed had not been eaten after all, it was presumably a pleasant one. But less pleasant was the accompanying rumour, that she now planned to marry her rescuer. Phineus wanted to be sure there were no more monsters coming before he reappeared and asserted his prior claim.
By the time he feels it is safe to do so, Perseus has returned and the wedding day is here. Phineus – incensed by how quickly he has been forgotten – gathers a ragtag bunch of supporters and marches on the wedding as though it is a battlefield. When they first appear outside the palace, no one is quite sure if they are uninvited guests or a disgruntled army.
Inside the halls, the torches flame brightly. Wedding hymns are sung and wine is poured. Outside the halls there is a festering anger. Phineus and his men hold torches aloft and demand Andromeda be given to them as was once promised. The stewards try to hold them off but they are outnumbered, and the men swarm through the palace, shouting their demands.
Cepheus and Cassiope rise from their couches and tell Andromeda that they will deal with everything. They rush through the halls and come face to face with Phineus. He has no control over the men he has brought here, which is hardly surprising. Everyone knows he is a coward, after all. So while Cepheus tries to reason with him, the men are running in all directions, determined to find the wedding feast and the wine.
Cepheus speaks softly and apologetically and Cassiope is quiet. The last month has taken all the fight out of her. Cepheus explains to Phineus that he is quite wrong to be angry with them. That they had not chosen Perseus as a preferable son-in-law, but that the gods had chosen him and they could not disagree. They have learned how costly it is to offend the gods in any way.
But Phineus is not interested in these excuses. He has been cheated of his bride and cheated of his place in the line of succession and he will see justice. Cepheus tries to buy him with gold and cattle but Phineus is drunk and besides, he can already hear the fight breaking out. It is too late for bribes, he says. He wants his wife. Cepheus – who has no idea how to deal with one more catastrophe – tells him he must take this up with the Nereids, with Poseidon, with the sea monster. And to bear in mind that the contest he hopes to win is against the son of Zeus himself.
Phineus strides off towards the large hall, where the battle is already underway. Perseus has leaped to his feet and is swinging a large knife at anyone who comes too close. Andromeda is screaming because she really has had enough of things going wrong, and anyway someone has spilled wine on her saffron-coloured dress. And then she catches sight of her hated uncle as he comes through the doorway and she grabs Perseus and points at the older man and screams right into her husband’s ear that this is the man he has saved her from. Perseus looks around at the upturned tables and couches and the men wrangling with one another. He realizes that he has no idea who is fighting for Phineus and who is fighting against him. They are all strangers to Perseus, except for one. He presses Andromeda to his side and hopes her parents have removed themselves from the fray. He reaches down for the kibisis that is never far from him and tells his bride to close her eyes. She screws up her face and buries her head in his shoulder as he reveals me to the room.