Perseus in the seat of honour to his right, filling and refilling his cup with strong wine. He played the young man just as Perseus himself would have played a fish. ‘Yes, this chariot race will certainly be a challenge,’ he said. ‘But the best families of Seriphos have each promised me a horse for my team. May I look to you and your mother to …?’ Perseus flushed. His poverty had always been a source of mortification. The young men with whom he played at sports, wrestled, hunted and chased girls all had servants and stables. He still lived in a stone fisherman’s cottage behind the dunes. His friend Pyrrho had a slave to fan him in his bed when the nights were warm. Perseus slept out on the sand and was more likely to be awoken by a nip from a crab than by a serving girl with a cup of fresh milk. ‘I don’t really have a horse as such,’ said Perseus. ‘A horse as such? I’m not sure I know what “a horse as such” might be.’ ‘I don’t really own anything much more than the clothes I wear. Oh, I do have a collection of sea shells that I’ve been told might be quite valuable one day.’ ‘Oh dear. Oh dear. I quite understand. Of course I do.’ Polydectes’s sympathetic smile cut Perseus deeper than any sneer. ‘It was too much to expect you to help me.’ ‘But I want to help you!’ Perseus said, a little too loudly. ‘Anything I can do for you I will. Name it.’ ‘Really? Well, there is one thing but …’ ‘What?’ ‘No, no, it’s too much to ask.’ ‘Tell me what it is …’ ‘I’ve always hoped that one day someone would bring me … but I can’t ask you, you’re just a boy.’ Perseus banged the table. ‘Bring you what? Say the word. I’m strong. I’m brave. I’m resourceful, I’m …’ ‘… just a little bit drunk.’ ‘I know what I’m saying …’ Perseus rose unsteadily to his feet and said in a voice everyone in the hall could hear. ‘Tell me what you want brought to you, my king, and I will bring it. Name it.’ ‘Well,’ said Polydectes with a rueful shrug of defeat, as one forced into a corner. ‘Since our young hero insists, there is one thing I’ve always wanted. Could you bring me the head of MEDUSA, I wonder?’ ‘No problem,’ said Perseus. ‘The head of Medusa? It’s yours.’ ‘Really? You mean that?’ ‘I swear it by the beard of Zeus.’ A little while later Perseus stumbled home across the sands to find his mother waiting up for him. ‘You’re late, darling.’ ‘Mum, what’s a “Medusa”?’ ‘Perseus, have you been drinking?’ ‘Maybe. Just a cup or two.’ ‘A hiccup or two, by the sound of it.’ ‘No, but seriously, what’s a Medusa?’ ‘Why do you want to know?’ ‘I heard the name and wondered, that’s all.’ ‘If you’ll stop pacing around like a caged lion and sit down, I’ll tell you,’ said Danaë. ‘Medusa, so they say, was a beautiful young woman who was taken and ravished by the sea god Poseidon.’fn7 ‘Ravished?’ ‘Unfortunately for her this took place on the floor of a temple sacred to the goddess Athena. She was so angry at the sacrilege that she punished Medusa.’ ‘She didn’t punish Poseidon?’ ‘The gods don’t punish each other, at least not very often. They punish us.’ ‘And how did Athena punish Medusa?’ ‘She transformed her into a Gorgon.’ ‘Blimey,’ said Perseus, ‘and what’s a “Gorgon”?’ ‘A Gorgon is … Well, a Gorgon is a dreadful creature with boar’s tusks instead of teeth, razor-sharp claws of brass and venomous snakes for hair.’ ‘Get away!’ ‘That’s the story.’ ‘And what does “ravished” mean, exactly?’ ‘Behave yourself,’ said Danaë, slapping his arm. ‘There are only two others like her in the world, Stheno and Euryale, but they were born as Gorgons. They are immortal daughters of the ancient divinities of the sea, Phorcys and Ceto.’ ‘Is this Medusa immortal as well?’ ‘I don’t think so. She was once human, you see …’ ‘Right … and if … say, for example … someone was to go hunting for her?’ Danaë laughed. ‘They’d be a fool. The three of them live together on an island somewhere. Medusa has one special weapon worse even than her serpent hair, her tusks and her talons.’ ‘What would that be?’ ‘One glance from her will turn you to stone.’ ‘What do you mean?’ ‘I mean that if you were to meet her eyes for just one second you would be petrified.’ ‘Scared?’ ‘No, petrified means turned into stone. You’d be frozen for all eternity. Like a statue.’ Perseus scratched his chin. ‘Oh. So that’s Medusa? I’d rather hoped she might turn out to be some sort of giant chicken, or a pig, maybe.’ ‘Why do you want to know?’ ‘Well, I sort of promised Polydectes that I’d bring him her head.’ ‘You what?’ ‘He wanted a horse, you see, and somehow this Medusa came up and I found myself saying I’d bring him her head …’ ‘You will go round to the palace first thing tomorrow morning and tell him that you will do no such thing.’ ‘But …’ ‘No buts. I absolutely forbid it. What was he thinking of? I’ve never heard of such a thing. Now, you go and sleep off that wine. In future you’ll have no more than two cups in an evening, is that understood?’ ‘Yes, mum.’ Perseus sloped off to bed as commanded, but he awoke in a mutinous mood. ‘I will leave the island and I will search for this Medusa,’ he declared over breakfast and nothing Danaë said to him would make him change his mind. ‘I made a promise in front of others. It’s a matter of honour. I am of an age to travel. To have adventures. You know how swift and strong I am. How cunning and resourceful. There’s nothing to be afraid of.’ ‘You speak to him, Dictys,’ said Danaë, despairing. Dictys and Perseus walked along the beach for most of the morning. Danaë was not pleased when they returned. ‘It’s like he says, Danaë. He’s old enough to make his own decisions. He’ll never find Medusa, of course. If she even exists. Let him go to the mainland and try out life for a while. He’ll be back before long. He’s well able to look after himself.’ The farewell between mother and son was all tears and distress on the one side and hand-patting and reassurance on the other. ‘I’ll be fine, mother. Ever seen anyone who can run faster? What harm can come to me?’ ‘I’ll never forgive Polydectes, never.’ That at least, thought Dictys, was something. He took Perseus by boat to the mainland. ‘Don’t trust anyone who offers you anything for free,’ he warned. ‘There’ll be plenty who’ll want to befriend you. They might be trustworthy, they might not. Don’t gaze around you as if it’s the first time you’ve ever seen a busy port or a city. Look bored and confident. As if you know your way around. And don’t be afraid to seek guidance from the oracles.’ How much of this excellent advice Perseus was likely to heed, Dictys could not tell. He was fond of the boy, and even fonder of his mother, and it grieved him to be complicit in so foolhardy an adventure. But, as he had told Danaë, Perseus was set on it and if they parted with hot words his absence would be all the harder to bear. When they arrived on the mainland Perseus thought that Dictys’ fishing boat looked very small and shabby beside the great ships moored at the harbour. The man he had called father since he had been able to speak suddenly looked very small and shabby, too. Perseus embraced him with fierce affection and accepted the silver coins slipped into his palm. He promised to try and send word to the island as soon as he had any news worth imparting and was patient enough to stand on the quayside and wave Dictys and his little boat goodbye, even though he was desperate to get going and explore the strange new world of mainland Greece.

T HE T WO S TRANGERS IN THE O AK G ROVE Perseus was confounded and confused by the cosmopolitan clamour of the mainland. No one seemed to care who he was, unless it was to try and con him out of his few pieces of silver. It did not take him very long to that Dictys was right: if he was going to return to Polydectes with the head of Medusa he would need guidance. The oracle of Apollo at Delphi was a long way to walk, but at least it was free to all.fn8 He joined the long queue of petitioners and after two long days found himself at last standing before the priestess.fn9 ‘What does Perseus wish to know?’ Perseus gave a little gasp. She knew who he was! ‘I, well, I … I want to know how I can find and kill Medusa, the Gorgon.’ ‘Perseus must travel to a land where people subsist not on Demeter’s golden corn but on the fruit of the oak tree.’ He stayed there hoping for further information, but not a word more was forthcoming. A priest pulled him away. ‘Come along, come along, the Pythia has spoken. You’re holding up the others.’ ‘I don’t suppose you know what she meant?’ ‘I’ve got better things to do than listen to every pronouncement that comes from her mouth. You can be sure that it was wise and truthful.’ ‘But where do people subsist on the fruit of the oak?’ ‘Fruit of the oak? There’s no such thing. Now please, move along.’ ‘I know what she meant,’ said an old lady, who was one of the many regulars who came daily to sit on the grass and watch the line of supplicants shuffling along to hear their fortune. ‘It was her way of telling you to visit the oracle at Dodona.’ ‘Another oracle?’ Perseus’s heart sank. ‘The people there make flour from acorns that drop from oaks sacred to Zeus. I’ve heard tell the trees can speak. Dodona is a long way north, my love,’ she wheezed. ‘A very long way!’ A long way it was. His small supply of coins had gone and Perseus slept under hedgerows and subsisted on little more than wild figs and nuts as he travelled north. He must have presented a forlorn figure by the time he arrived, for the women of Dodona were kind. They ruffled his hair and served him delicious acorn-flour bread spread thick with sharp goats’ curd and sweetened with honey. ‘Go early in the morning,’ they advised. ‘The oaks are more talkative in the cool hours before the noontide sun.’ A mist hung over the countryside like a veil when Perseus set out for the grove at dawn the next day. ‘Er, hello?’ he called out to the trees, feeling remarkably stupid. The oaks were tall, stately and impressive enough, but they did not have mouths or faces with recognisable expressions. ‘Who calls?’ Perseus started. Unquestionably a voice. Calm, soft, female, but strong and deeply authoritative. ‘Here to help.’ Another voice! This one seemed to contain a hint of scorn. ‘My name is Perseus. I have come …’ ‘Oh, we know who you are,’ said a young man stepping forward from the shadows. He was young, startlingly handsome and most unusually dressed. Aside from the loincloth around his waist, a narrow-brimmed hat that circled his brow and winged sandals at his ankles, he was quite naked.fn10 Perseus noticed that two live snakes writhed about the staff that he was carrying. A woman holding a shield emerged behind him. She was tall, grave and beautiful. When she raised her shining grey eyes to his, Perseus felt an extraordinary surge of something he could not quite define. He decided the quality was majesty and bowed his head accordingly. ‘Don’t be afraid, Perseus,’ she said. ‘Your father has sent us to help you.’ ‘My father?’ ‘He’s our father too,’ said the young man. ‘The Cloud Gatherer and Bringer of Storms.’ ‘The Sky Father and King of Heaven,’ said the shining woman. ‘Z-Z-Zeus?’ ‘The same.’ ‘You mean it’s really true, then? Zeus is my father?’ Perseus had never believed his mother’s wild story about Zeus coming to her as a shower of golden rain. He had taken it for granted that his real