‘What happened next?’
‘I remember Athena’s expression changing. There was something sly in her eyes, a shining notion, a god’s idea. You think your hair is beautiful? she said. I said I didn’t think that at all, but I’d be happy to lose it if it meant no man or god would ever look at me again. I promised that I’d never seek a boyfriend, a husband, or a lover, if it meant Poseidon would let me go back into the waters in peace. I said I’d do anything. Athena asked me if I was sure about that. She said it was an awful lot for a mortal girl to promise.’
‘She was right.’
‘I wish I’d never said it. I wish I’d never made that promise.’
‘Seems like you’re always making promises to the gods.’
‘Promises I never know the outcome of, until it’s too late,’ I said, scuffing a stray rock with my heel. Argentus whimpered. He knew where this was going. ‘Athena told me to go to her temple. She said I was to let no one in. I should make offerings to her, and I’d be safe. I said I’d do it, and she disappeared.’
Closing my eyes again, I conjured that beautiful temple, just outside our village, amidst an olive grove. It had had its own neat garden of herbs and mountain flowers, with a fountain in the middle that sparkled in the moonlight.
‘Under Athena’s orders,’ I continued, ‘I made daily visits with Argentus – avoiding the sea, avoiding the village. I started to sleep there, Argentus at my feet. It became my shrunken world, but I didn’t mind. Athena’s temple was cool and comfortable: low-slung stone benches and seats covered in soft cushions, a smell of amber and fresh bread, left daily by a baker as offerings to his favourite goddess.’
‘That sounds good.’
‘It wasn’t bad. I ate the bread, leaving half for Athena, and sat on the steps outside, my back facing the sea, staring resolutely inland. Daily I offered fickle Athena my thanks. Daily I tended the olive trees. Daily I kept my head down. For a while, with all this avoidance, all this thanks and all this gardening, I did feel peaceful. I did feel safe. Poseidon couldn’t get me.’
I fell silent. I remembered how convinced I became that my time in Athena’s temple was going to be the end of it. By removing myself from Poseidon’s surveillance, the pressure of his presence, by denying myself present love and future love, spending endless afternoons with Argentus in the tranquillity of Athena’s temple, you might think I would have felt free.
You would be as naive as I was.
‘Listen, Perseus,’ I said. ‘Take it from someone who knows. Sometimes, not even folding yourself into the smallest, littlest shape is enough. So you might as well stay the size you’re supposed to be.’
‘What happened, Merina?’ Perseus whispered.
‘He found me,’ I said, my throat beginning to tighten. ‘He came out of the water to hunt me down.’
‘Oh, Hades.’
‘A sea-god in an olive grove is a fish out of water, but he’s no less powerful for it.’ I swallowed, trying to keep a hold of myself. ‘I remember seeing his shadow on the wall like a huge stain, moving under moonlight as the world slept. How he hurled Argentus to one side.’
‘No,’ said Perseus.
To hear his sympathy felt like my chest had been unlocked, and I was full of sobs that might never be quiet again. But I didn’t want Perseus to hear my tears falling. I rubbed them hard, and Echo leaned down to gently lick the last of the damp away.
‘Poseidon didn’t care whose temple he was entering,’ I said, my voice shaking. ‘He just pulled the pillars down. I screamed for him to leave me alone, I called out to Athena, I said, No, no, no! But in the rubble of that night, Poseidon took what I had never wanted to give him. Me.’
We sat in silence, the gulls wheeling loudly once again above our heads. In my mind’s eye, I could see Athena’s fountain, running with blood.
‘Merina,’ said Perseus quietly. ‘Oh, gods. I am so sorry.’
I laughed without mirth. ‘And afterwards, guess what? Some people in the village said I should be grateful for the attention. Not many gods deigned to give us mortals the time of day. But Poseidon didn’t give me the time of day, for Hades’ sake. He gave me nothing in return for what he took. He tried to make me lose myself.’
‘Merina—’
‘And the people who say these stupid things – perhaps they’d have liked to have spent half an hour in that desecrated temple, instead of me? I’ll swap places. Gladly. But they never do, of course. They just want to tell you how much better they’d have handled it, how they’d have been able to say no.’
‘You did say no!’
‘So many times that the word lost its meaning. It certainly had no meaning for Poseidon.’
‘How did you manage to get out?’
‘He left, eventually. Somehow I crawled from the wreckage of the temple and found the road towards our home. My sisters had been roused by Argentus, and met me on the path. They took one look at me – dishevelled, dress torn, hair tangled, spirit missing – and held me in their arms, encircling me tight. I must have cried. Or did I? I remember so much – here, now, spilling myself out to you – but I must admit, I don’t remember those moments immediately after.’
‘Merina, I don’t know what to say.’
‘It’s just nice you’re listening. I remember the path, seeing my sisters, their arms round me. Argentus nuzzling my bare feet. Fleeing the temple without my sandals. That’s all.’
There was silence again.
‘It’s a great honour that you told me this,’ said Perseus. ‘I won’t forget it. No one’s ever trusted me like you trust me. I wouldn’t even have mentioned his name if I’d known.’
‘It’s fine,’ I said. ‘You didn’t know.’
I leaned back against the rock, my heart now strangely settled. Talking to someone about my experience in the temple, while never removing the sting, had somehow given it flight.
As we sat quietly afterwards, I could sense how my experience had moved a little away from me, how the revelation of my sadness had made me feel lighter – for how long, I did not know – but it was refreshing, amazing, to realise I could feel this way. I was in possession of my own story. I was the one who could either keep it or discard it.
I stroked my silently undulating snakes.
‘Talking with you … Oh, by the gods, it’s incredible,’ Perseus said. ‘You’ve lived such a life. It’s not like being with Driana, or even my mother.’
‘I don’t like to hear that, Perseus. They’ll have their stories too.’
‘I know, I know. But listening to you … I’ve never felt like this.’
Was it the sound of my voice that he liked, or the words that I was saying? I ached to ask, but felt too shy. ‘Like … what?’ I said.
‘Merina, have you … ever been in love?’
‘Love?’
‘Yes.’
‘I don’t know.’ I hesitated. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘Me neither.’
We were silent for a few moments.
‘Perseus,’ I said. ‘You don’t quite understand me. Not entirely. Not yet.’
‘I understand that you and me are alike. We’re survivors.’
‘But that’s just it. Despite the things we have in common, we’re not alike.’
‘Then opposites attract!’ he said. I could hear him hesitate. ‘I don’t know if I’ve ever been happy,’ he blurted out. ‘I want to be happy.’
‘And what will make you happy?’
‘To see you, Merina.’
‘You can’t.’
‘To be with you.’
‘Impossible.’
‘However you think you’re disfigured, I don’t care. Please.’
‘Perseus, believe me. This can never be.’
‘Oh, gods. Merina: I think I love you. I know it’s mad, but I think I do.’
His words broke me open. Until I heard those words, I didn’t know how much I’d been wanting them. They were only words, of course, and anyone can speak words. But in his mouth and in my ears they felt just right.