Medusa, A Love Story (Loves of Olympus 1)

The old man stood, nodding. “They are there. On the top of the farthest hill, keeping a herd of goats it seems.”

“It is rumored they have a fondness for goats.” Ariston smiled in spite of himself. Or goat herders, she’d laughingly said. He collected his things, hurriedly strapping the sack onto his saddle.

“Is it?” the old man asked. “Be careful, soldier. You seem a good sort. And whatever it is that plagues those creatures harbors only ill will towards man.”

Ariston heard the words as he mounted his horse. He was so close, so close after so very long. “I thank you for the food. And the company.” He kicked his horse on, impatient for the journey to be behind him.

By this evening, she might be in his arms once more.

He turned, to wave his thanks to the old man. But the man was gone. He was no longer reclining against the tree, enjoying the shade. Nor was he hobbling along the path. There was no sign of him.

###

“Hera,” Medusa whispered again. Her knees ached from kneeling on the cold rocks beneath her. “Hear my prayers, I implore you.”

The morning sun was rising, signaling the end of her day. The serpents hated the sun almost as much as she did. But she would continue to seek Hera’s guidance until she was forced to retreat inside the small cabin where her sisters and the children still slept.

She must find safety for Kore and Spiridion.

“These children need your protection…” she repeated her prayer over and over. “Guide the soldier to us so that he may keep them safe.”

Even if she’d lost favor with Olympus, the Goddess would not turn away from these children. Surely, she would protect them.

“I beg you for mercy, Hera – for the care of these precious children.”

“And what of the soldier, Medusa?” The voice started Medusa from her prayers.

A woman stood before her, with lush round curves and curly brown hair. She was small, dainty and feminine – and regal. There was an aura about her that Medusa recognized. This woman was not a mortal.

“If he comes to the aid of these children, you put him at risk.” The woman spoke again, her voice warm and soothing.

“I… I will hide,” she stammered.

“He might try to find you,” the woman returned. “He might try to kill you. News of the Gorgon curse travels, and men are fools in their need for conquests.”

“Would that he could kill me, lady,” Medusa whispered.

“You seek death?”

Medusa nodded slowly. “I am a danger to others.”

The woman said nothing.

Medusa was silent too. What should she say?

The whisper of the gently blowing breeze brushed her ear, fanning the sounds of evening about her. The faint hoot of an owl, the soft sounds of the surf far below, even the call of a gull reached her.

And still the woman watched her in silence.

At first, Medusa dismissed the owl’s calls. It was only as they grew louder and more insistent that she turned towards the approaching bird. A coo, sweet and pleading, reached her.

And Medusa saw her.

“Thea?” her anguish was audible.

The owl circled her, obviously distressed by her mistress’ companions. Medusa shook her head, wrapping her arms around herself so Thea would find no place to grasp her. She curled inward, desperate.

“Are you a messenger from Olympus – from Athena?” she gasped, unable to stop the waiver from her plea. “Keep her from me, I beg of you. Let no harm come to her.”