‘Better that, than this,’ said the priestess.
‘And by then you’ll have tasted such sweet retribution that you shall die full and satisfied.’
The priestess’s eyes grew wide. ‘My mother always said that to take revenge is to poison oneself and expect another to sicken.’
Athena threw her head back and laughed. ‘Your mother is a fool. Vengeance and justice are fiery bedfellows. Make this rock your empire. Turn back the eyes that have looked too long upon you, make them your sentry,little ruler.’
The goddess bestowed her parting gift then and gave the priestess, named to rule and born to protect, the face of one who rages back. Twisting serpents crowned her head and indeed it was a kind of coronation; Medusa the Gorgon blazed before her. And from that day forward, Medusa no longer suffered the consequences of dangerous looks.
‘They will tell of it as punishment,’ my grandmother says, ‘but this would be a perversion of justice and Athenaisjustice.’
I am quiet for a long while then, squinting into the river, trying to see myself. I grimace horrendously at my reflection, tongue waggling, imagining what it would be to bear the face of one who could not be looked upon.
‘I think I’d rather be monstrous than beautiful,’ I say.
My grandmother’s face is grave.
Suddenly she turns and begins to swim downstream. She moves slower than her usual pace so I know it is not adismissal, rather an invitation to follow. We swim for many hours, the furthest I have ever been from home. When we stop, we are just shy of the mouth, the wide sweeping delta of our Nile, claimed abruptly by the brute force of Poseidon’s domain.
Fear rushes me. I stare out at the expanse, and death stares back.Those of salt are freshwater’s foe; I feel the lesson in every droplet of water that has made me, definite and inevitable. It is overwhelming, the way some deep, internal part of me thrashes, the part that belongs to my grandmother, to her father, to rivers and mud and the striding of water across land. I grip my grandmother’s hand tightly as I watch the waves, rearing and shying, and then galloping towards me.
‘Do not wish for Medusa’s fate, mylittle queen,’ my grandmother says softly. ‘It took a terrible violence for Athena to bring that about.’
I remember the fish, choking and falling still under my gaze. I shudder.
I think of Athena often after that.The cool grey at the end of the day dyed orange as died the sun.I feel her eyes upon me, the swinging beam of orange torchlight searching for me and becoming soft shadow as they settle on my face. I am sure it is in part the influence of my grandmother’s stories, told with all the usual flare of river folk, and my own imagination. But it is said that when I was born, Athena whispered my name to my parents.Andromeda. Ruler of men.They took her words for prophecy; the first-born child of King Cepheus should have been a boy, but they had named me as a great ruler anyway.
Perhaps the goddess guards me after all, another pretty face named to rule. Maybe she will protect me from the samefate as her priestess. This thought puts a swagger in my step, and as I become ten, I take to strutting round the palace in a somewhat gangly-limbed imitation of my mother. She and Grandmother call melittle queen, a pet-name taken from my fateful name – it is the only thing they have in common – and I play at little queendom. One evening, not long after my trip to the sea, I careen round a corner into Phineus. I am so full of my own potential that I do not tolerate his scolding of my carelessness.
‘I am to be a ruler of men, you must not speak to me so!’
He guffaws loudly down into my face. ‘You can’t rule over men. You’re a girl.’
‘I can! My name says so!’
He chuckles, ‘Ah, our little queen! That just means that you’ll be a king’s wife.Mywife, probably. You’ll be beautiful and we’ll have strong, beautiful heirs, and the whole world will marvel at the family on Aethiopia’s throne.’
He does not say it unkindly. I do not know why but it is his kindness that enrages me.
I run screaming to my mother and father. I stand in their throne room and feel my face heat as my stuttering explanation of Phineus’ misunderstanding is met with crows of laughter, first from my father and then from his friends and advisors. It seems that I am the one who has misunderstood. My gaze beseeches my mother’s, the only other woman in the room, but her face is a mask of cool neutrality.
‘Compose yourself, Andromeda. Such hysterics are unbecoming.’
I flee, humiliated.
She finds me later, though, while I lie hiccupping among the linen folds of my bed, and brushes my hair until I quieten.Then she says, ‘I did not name youruler of menso that you might marry that insipid brother of your father’s and waste your beauty on this scrap of kingdom and its false gods. I mean for you to have more, mylittle queen. I mean for you to have the world. There are many who would fear such a thing. It is a fine art. You must appear to kiss the feet before you, while keeping them to heel. You will learn in time.’ I do not understand what she means, so I lie there, confused and wounded.
Phineus comes to find me a few days later, worrying his lip in remorse.
‘I should not have laughed at you and teased you. I am older and should know better. It was wrong of me.’
I turn my head away, intent on ignoring him. People rarely apologize to me, and I am enjoying it.
‘I spoke with Ma. She was very cross with me. She made it clear that she only supports our marriage because I am to take care of you.’ He crouches down to my level. ‘It wouldn’t be so bad, would it? Being married to me?’
I squint up at him. I do not understand what such a thing means. I think of my mother and father, the strange darting tension that surrounds them, too slippery to name like reeds caught and torn in currents. I cannot imagine it ever being so with Phineus.
I shrug. He shrugs back.
