Snakehead Read online

  Moumi woke me to take my turn sitting with Palikari. It was the night after the attack; he had a fever. I crawled up from a black, dreamless pit and stumbled to the wellhouse. As I stood in the yard, dripping, scouring my head with a rough towel to get my brain going, I saw a shooting star, a lance of brilliant gold. It dived across the starry sky and seemed to plunge into the sea, just beyond the headland that shelters our harbor.

  Something’s coming, I thought. Good news, or bad?

  Later that morning I went for a walk out of town, as far as Moni and Aten’s farm. The wheat terraces gleamed, most of them already shorn to dry, glittering stubble. Grapes were swelling, jewel-colored under the vine leaves. The sky was clear from horizon to horizon, but the air quivered with tension, as if a storm was coming. It was earthquake weather. On the way back I sat and talked for a while at the bar we called the Yacht Club, a hangout for the young people, off-islanders, who were wandering around the Middle Sea for sheer adventure. They asked after Pali; they knew he was off work. I said he had a fever, that he’d be laid up for a few days. Nothing serious … Had the attack on Palikari changed everything, or was it just another skirmish in the truce? I knew which option the boss preferred; or I thought I did. Peace at almost any price. Was he right?

  I was worried about Anthe. Today she’d been muttering to Koukla that it would be easy for a girl to dress up, get herself “invited” into the High Place, and get close to the tyrant king—with a fish-gutting knife in her clothes, or hidden in her hair. And maybe a girl should do it, before Papa Dicty started arming the Seatown lads with boat hooks, or before any stupid so-called heroes she knew got hacked to dog meat just trying to get through the gates of the citadel. Koukla hadn’t told the boss; she didn’t want to worry him. But she was afraid our wildcat was serious.

  I could not make up my mind to go home. I left the Yacht Club and walked over the headland, with the strange idea that I wanted to see where that shooting star had landed. The first inlet was one of the places where people went to bathe, but there was nobody down there, only a rowboat drawn up on the sand. The oars lay inside.

  Out on the water a big pleasure boat was moored, a real monster, all shining paint and polished metal that looked like gold. It had three raked masts and a sleek, tall prow bearing the name The Magnificent Escape. I’d never seen it before, but I knew what I was supposed to do. Time had stopped. The bathing inlet was a reflection of itself, like colors in a film of oil, deeper, richer than any colors in life, and yet ungraspable.

  The Magnificent Escape looked like a pleasure yacht, but it felt (how can I explain this?), it felt like one of those spirits in the goat hollow. I had passed a boundary, into that other world; and maybe the strangest thing was that I wasn’t surprised. I’d seen this coming.

  I pushed the little rowboat off, climbed in and rowed out to meet my father. When I reached the yacht’s dark blue, glossy flank, two sailors dressed in white slung a ladder of silvery metal over the side. I looked for some way to make my boat fast, but there was none. I shipped the oars, stood up and grabbed hold of the ladder.

  The sailors had very short hair and clean-shaven faces. One was a dark African, the other so pale his eyes looked transparent. Their spotless whites were strangely styled, but they behaved exactly like snooty servants. The way they led me into the opulent wheelhouse was designed to tell me that they knew what my tunic had cost, they couldn’t believe my tasteless haircut, and that I wasn’t someone with whom their master would normally deign to associate. “Please allow us to attend to you, sir,” said the pale one, giving my dusty sandals a once-over of supreme disdain.

  There’s a way to brush someone’s clothes and wash their feet and hands, before a meal or a social visit, so that you make it dignified on both sides, friendly and kind. There’s a way not to do it. The sailor-servants were experts at the second version. I was grateful to them for steadying my mind. By the time they’d finished treating me like scum, my fear and trembling had vanished. They showed me along a companionway done out in a fabulous, fine-grained, red-brown wood; opened the door of a stateroom, and ushered me through.

  The sailors didn’t come in. The door was shut behind me. A very big man, magnificently built, sat at his ease, his legs crossed, his arm along the back of a couch. He had a fine head of red-gold hair, and a curling beard. He was dressed in spotless white, in the same strange style as his servants: loose trousers and a stiff, long-sleeved jacket with gold braid on it. I knew I was looking at my father, Great Zeus, ruler of the Supernaturals. The God who had once deigned to visit the princess Danae in her prison tower, and set my life in motion. I am tall and strong. He was on a different scale: not only bigger than any human being ought to be, but you could feel that most of him was elsewhere, uncontained in this picture, this image. I had an urge to fall on my knees; I fought it down.

  “Very nice,” he said, after a thoughtful appraisal. “Very nice indeed.”

  I knew about his habits. My old man collects half-mortal children the way a mortal, filthy-rich potentate might collect beautiful vases, or rare insects impaled on pins. He breeds us as a hobby. That wasn’t what my mother had told me, but it was what I’d worked out for myself. How nice that I had won his approval. I didn’t thank him for the compliment, though I’d have loved to say something sarcastic: I couldn’t trust my voice yet. I would not kneel, but he scared me to death, and he knew it.

  “Sit down, please. I have to talk to you, about matters that concern us both.” He gestured to another of the couches. The stateroom seemed to go on forever. From about halfway up the walls were made of something transparent that shone with a high polish.

  “A lovely part of the world, Serifos. One of the best kept secrets of the Middle Sea, in my humble opinion.” The chieftain of the Olympians cocked his head, considering the view through his clear walls. “It’s slipped my mind: do they worship me particularly here? Is there some little ritual I could attend, since I’m passing?”

  “I wouldn’t know. That would be up in the High Place. In Seatown we have the Great Mother’s Enclosure; that’s our only place of worship.” I knew I shouldn’t mention the old religion, but I was trying to have the guts to stand up to him.

  “Ah yes, the Mother.” He scowled playfully. Playful like a thunderbolt … I was two people. One of them was in real danger of bursting into tears, wetting himself, hiding behind the couch. But the other Perseus, the one who felt no fear, didn’t want to let go of being mortal. I didn’t want to be on easy terms with this golden bully.

  “She used to call us her pets, you know. Tell me, son, do I look like a domestic animal to you? Do I look like a pussycat?”

  Now that he mentioned it, there was something animal about him, more vast animal power than divine wisdom in his splendor. But there’s standing up for yourself, and there’s plain stupid.

  “No, you don’t.”

  He raised a mighty eyebrow.

  “Sir.”

  “Quite right. Well, the ‘pets’ are in charge now. The Mother’s day is over. We’re going to develop this place. We’re going to make the human world buzz. You’ll see.”

  I nodded, because he seemed to want some response and I had none; and he laughed so that my mortal heart shook like a leaf. “Don’t look so doubtful. You will see it all, Perseus. From your place in heaven … But back to the here and now. The tyrant king Polydectes is about to invite you to a party.”

  Oh, I see, I thought. That’s why he’s here. He’s going to tell me what to do. I’m facing the crisis of my life, so my father has come to give me advice.

  “The king of Serifos hates me. Why would he do that?”

  “Pay attention. Polydectes will invite you to a party, and at this party he’ll announce that he’s given up his pursuit of the Argolide princess, your dear mother. He has turned his mind to a more useful match, and he expects his vassals to chip in with a horse or two toward the bride price. That includes you.”

  “I’m not his vassal!”


  “Of course not. Be quiet and listen. He will then tell the company, in the most offensive way, that he knows you can’t possibly contribute. The foster son of a taverna keeper owns no horses, and hasn’t a hope of ever seeing that kind of money.”

  I fired up at this, because it was an insult to the boss. The God raised a big well-cared-for hand. A white jewel in the ring on his middle finger sent out sparks of rainbow-refracted light. His thumb ring held a ruby the size of a sparrow’s egg.

  “Don’t fly into a passion! I know that you have been fostered by a prince, a rare and virtuous man, for whom I have the greatest respect.”

  My mother had told me that he was a polite old devil. Not that she remembered any politeness, but it was part of his reputation. I hadn’t believed her.

  “The insults are meant to make you lose your temper. Polydectes will then suggest that instead you should bring him the head of the Medusa, a monster with snakes for hair whose glance turns anything she looks on to stone. A whole army petrified in an instant, imagine it. He will say that if you are not too cowardly to achieve the quest, and if you deliver the Medusa to him, all accounts between the two of you will be settled. That will be his offer. You are to accept.”

  “I see.”

  The terrible lord of thunder looked at me sternly. Luckily, I had my mortal self under control. “I see is not an adequate response, Perseus. You must know the story of the Medusa. Any six-year-old in the whole Middle Sea knows it.”

  I had heard of the Medusa, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. “In one ear and out the other,” I said. “I can’t ever remember all those fancy monsters.”

  “Ah well,” he muttered to himself, “brains aren’t everything…. The Medusa, Perseus, was once the most beautiful woman in the world. She offended the gods, and was turned into a monster. She lives with two sister monsters, also endowed with the snake hair and the petrifying glance. The three of them are called the Gorgons, but only Medusa is mortal. Her head has long been considered a highly desirable item by warlike princes. Champions and heroes have tried again and again to win the prize: they’re all stone. So will you be, if you look her in the eye, my half-mortal child. Make no mistake, Godhead itself is no protection from the Medusa’s power.”

  “I understand,” I said, not risking another I see. “No,” said Zeus with a strangely human smile. “You don’t understand at all. These are mysteries…. But you’ll know what to do when the time comes. You are to accept the challenge; that’s all you have to grasp for now. We’ll go on from there.” Go on where? I wondered.

  My father shrugged his great shoulders. “In reality, by the way, Polydectes has not given up his outrageous, insolent pursuit of your dear mother. He’s obsessed, but he’s afraid to challenge you. You are my son, and he has some dim idea of what that means. He thinks you’ll go off after the Medusa and never come back. That way, in his limited reasoning, he’ll be able to take the lady by force, and incur no blame. He believes his brother will aquiesce once you are out of the way, and the very cozy setup he has on Serifos will continue undisturbed. Now repeat your lesson.”

  I wondered how much I would remember, when I was back in the mortal world. I’m genuinely not good at remembering things I don’t understand. But that was his problem. I repeated my lesson. Party invitation, insults, horse-gift. The monster who turns people to stone. The challenge, which I was to accept.

  There came a soft tap on the door.

  “Come in!” he called, and the two sailor-servants appeared, one of them bearing a small table, the other a covered tray. The scent of fried fish and fried opotatos arrived with them. They ignored me, discreetly making sure I knew it, set the table in front of him and laid the cloth, deftly arranging oil and vinegar, a small green salad and a carafe of chilled white wine, beads of snowmelt on its rounded sides. The African lifted the cover from a huge platter, offering for display a fish as long as my arm, wrapped in airy golden batter, and surrounded by fabulously expensive mountains of opotato, cut in batons and fried to perfection.

  I think the opotatos make it too much of a show-off dish, myself.

  “Ah,” cried Zeus, beaming and rubbing his hands. “Fish and chips! One of the sublime dishes of the world; and believe me, I know. First invented in my Aegean, of course. Invented here like every idea of value! Don’t ever let anyone tell you about Ur of the Chaldees, Perseus. My Aegean is top of the cradle-of-civilization class! And here, now, in the mortal realm of time, you are going to help me put it there.”

  For a moment I knew what all this meant. I knew why the chief of the Achaean Supernaturals was talking to me about Polydectes’ social plans. I knew that somehow Andromeda’s flying marks were part of it…. Then it was gone again.

  He held out his hands to be washed. “Oh, ah, Perseus. Won’t you join me?” The table was laid for one. Sublime truth fell away; he was just another big cheese, dying to get at his dinner. I work in a restaurant; I said what I was supposed to say.

  “I’d be greatly honored, but I’ve got to be going, if you’ll excuse me.”

  “Must you? Ah, very well. I’ll see you out.”

  My father rose up like a thundercloud, and casually pointed a finger at the servants, table, food. The array shook itself and froze. Time had stopped for them all: the sailors, the dishes, the drops of melted ice. It dawned on me that Zeus’s sailor-servants were not human beings. They were like the yacht itself, like his huge human body: appearances, part of his game, and this made me shiver.

  What am I? I thought. Am I more real than these toys?

  He came out on deck with me, affable and relaxed, smiling in his beard. “Let me give you some advice. Your relatives, now. Some of them are reasonable, most of them are no-account. A bunch of drunks and squabblers, I’m afraid. Hermes, my courier, is a very safe young man. Make a friend of him; he’ll be useful to you. You can trust your half sister Athini, but watch her temper. Steer clear of my wife, obviously. Do not, under any circumstances, ever, tangle with your aunt Afroditi. I mean it.”

  I was tempted to think this warning meant Afroditi might be an ally, but his tone of voice convinced me. “I’ll remember that.”

  I was on the metal ladder; he was looking down. “Beware of hunger. Beware of tiredness. The body you are wearing is a fine one, but it is mortal, and those things will cloud your judgment. Oh, and beware of alcohol. Same reason.”

  Everything was colored mist, reflected light, a veil over things that wouldn’t fit into the mortal world. But there was mighty Zeus, leaning over the side of his pleasure yacht, giving me banal advice. Just like a human absentee dad, not knowing how to say goodbye. I felt a crazy, stupid pang of longing.

  “Sir?” I could never call him father. “Sir, what does it mean? The Medusa, a beautiful woman, a monster with a snakehead? Why do I have to do this?”

  He smiled and leaned down, and touched me with his fingertip, on the forehead, between my eyebrows. The world exploded: writhing, coiling, squirming into fantastic patterns, a nest of vipers the size of the universe. I fell into the snake pit, I kept on falling, out of the reflection, back into the things I knew.

  I rowed to the shore and left the boat on the sand. Halfway up the headland path I felt something leave me. I looked back and the inlet was empty. The Magnificent Escape had vanished.

  Everything looked strange, as if I’d been gone a very long time, but the shadows were hardly longer than they’d been when I left the Yacht Club. When I reached home, the staff were setting up for an evening at Dicty’s, as usual. Conversation was subdued, people greeted me uneasily. They didn’t know what was really wrong with Palikari, but they’d sensed trouble. Anthe was running the kitchen, in a bad mood. She told me that Andromeda was with Pali. She said, D’you have to keep asking where she is every single minute, Perseus?; and I said yes.

  The boss was in the furnace yard, cleaning his tools (which didn’t need cleaning) and talking to Moumi. “All well?” he asked when I walked in.

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nbsp; “All’s well enough,” I said automatically. Our watchword. They were staring at me, and I wondered what they saw. Which was real? This world, or the other?

  “What happened to you?” asked my mother.

  “I don’t know. Maybe I fell asleep on the shore.”

  I sat on an old packsaddle, and told them about The Magnificent Escape.

  Moumi put her palm to my forehead. It was burning, as if I’d been too long in the sun. I found out afterward, when I looked in her best bronze mirror, that I had a dark, rosy mark there, which took days to fade.

  “Bathe, and then go and sleep it off, Perseus. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

  The invitation arrived a few days later. It was delivered very properly, very old-style—like a memory of how things were done before the Great Disaster. The king’s embassy arrived with two horsemen bearing green branches and with six musicians on foot, playing the lyre and the double flute (but not well) as they marched. The herald had no Achaean staff of office, just a wreath and garlands. His hands were empty except for the traditional gift of scented oil. They stood on the waterfront, and requested permission to speak with the master of Seatown. Papa Dicty hadn’t been treated with such honor since the leadership challenge of long ago.

  The people of Seatown watched from indoors. They’d cleared the streets when they saw the herald’s party coming, not sure what was going on. But the staff at Dicty’s were very excited. The king was suing for peace! Our troubles were over! Papa Dicty was going to share Polydectes’ throne, the way things ought to be!

  “First the stick, then the carrot,” said the boss dryly. “I suppose if we decline the invitation, we may expect more violence. I think I’ll call a Town Meeting.”

  So we called a meeting, and everyone from within a day’s journey turned up. The Sacred Enclosure was packed. I sat with my mother and Dicty, going over what I planned to say, remembering the time when I was a kid, and climbed up with my friends to peek over the fence. And we were spotted, and yelled at, and chased…. Town Meetings had been rare in my lifetime, rare enough to be fascinating to little boys. Now I was one of the grown-ups, about to speak in public, but I didn’t feel privileged. I felt like a stranger, uneasy and awkward among these people I’d known all my life.