Book II
Medusa slept soundly
and woke the following
morning; rising from bed,
the nest of beaded braids
coiled before her face,
checking her reflection
in wise Athena’s gift.
Her own unparalleled
beauty was her visage.
The young noble woman
was a descendant of
King Erichthonious,
the half-serpent founder
of glorious Athens,
was raised by Athena
as if he were her son.
As she gazed at herself,
Phobos son of Ares,
did run a cold finger
down her spine. Medusa
shrieked from the chilling touch.
In her reflection she
did witness some scales
upon her forehead’s skin.
She retracted from her
own sight, pawing at the
cursed patch of scaly skin
only to discover
mere flecks of confetti.
The young woman chuckled
at her own foolishness,
paying no regard to
her flawless reflection.
She set to her duties
without hesitation.
Yet as young Medusa
travelled she was followed
by crowd of clamorers.
Their numbers grew with each
passing day, and their chants
echoed adulations
in her dreams every night.
Young men voiced affections,
then she dreamt of heroes.
Brave heroes of Hellas
professed adoration,
then she dreamt of princes.
Princes came to court her,
then she dreamed of kings.
The greater the station
of Medusa’s suitors,
the more she attended
to mirrored reflection.
All the while, unbeknownst,
Phobos whispered to her
of her ancestor:
the old serpentine king.
Increasingly she saw
him in her reflection.
She buried her visage
beneath layers of paint,
adorning herself in
elaborate jewels.
The more she attended
to her own elegance,
she diminishingly
oversaw her duties.
A white owl called Bubo
watched Medusa from the
old olive tree outside
temple chamber’s window.
Athena’s watchful beast
fluttered above the clouds
to report his findings.
On way to Olympus,
a trio of gods held
their tongues till he had passed.
Apollo god of sun,
Poseidon god of seas,
and Zeus god of the sky
had gathered to confide
mutual affections
for Athena’s priestess.
A woman whose beauty
enraptures the world
does not evade the eyes
of masculine divine.
All three of them known for
many mortal affairs,
looked upon Medusa
as does a hungry dog
at a fresh slab of meat.
Yet, quite aberrantly,
had not acted upon
their most primal passions.
Insouciant Apollo
muttered most cautiously,
“How my heart sings for her!
Yet Athena’s ire
gives pause to my lyre.
On this matter, I know
that my eldest sister
frowns when I do conspire
with such thoughts in my head.
Kinsmen, I dare not cross
goddess of victory
even for this maiden.”
God king of Olympus,
Zeus held his first daughter
in a higher regard
than all the other gods.
Brave, wondrous Athena
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
was apple of his eye.
Zeus, solemn with his words,
declared, “I need not fear
her as does Apollo.
Though true my loins ache for
this mortal Medusa,
I shan’t ever injure
Athena’s heart by such
a heinous transgression
against her property.
Where marriage could not slake
my rakish behavior,
the adoration of
my favorite child can.”
A wounded Apollo
looked toward his father
with a quivering eye
and a trembling lip.
Yet he held fast his tongue.
Poseidon, the brother
of Zeus and a god king
of seas by his own right,
held no reservations.
“What a sad, sorry sight
that I must bear witness to.
Zeus and Apollo made
humble by a woman.”
“Tread carefully, brother,”
Zeus snarled. Apollo said,
“Come now uncle, say not
such petty vengeful words.
Athena won Athens
over you in fair contest.”
“That was only because
of her insidious
design: democracy,”
Poseidon snapped in reply,
“Yet why am I surprised
Zeus is silenced by his
peerless, perfect princess?
Let it be known that I,
Poseidon, ocean king
will not shirk nor cower
from impertinent niece.
I would love nothing more
than make a proper whore
of a virgin priestess.
Grovel to a woman
as you see fit; but I,
as god and king, shall take
what I please of mortals.”
“You will do no such thing!”
Zeus commanded, his voice boomed
with the sound of thunder,
“Medusa, high priestess
of Athens is sacred
property of her god.
Violating purity
of one with her station
would be occasion for
war among the divine.”
“Exactly what I want,”
Poseidon snickered back,
“Should contest come to blows,
precious goddess of war
shall be crushed under my waves!”
“Should it come to violence
my daughter shall not stand
alone,” Zeus growled in return.
“Should it come to such state
Ares and Aphrodite
shall happily reply
in my favor, brother,”
Poseidon did reply.
“And in turn: Hephaestus,
Hermes, and Artemis
shall answer my favor.”
“Uncle,” Apollo said,
“I have no hatred for
my sister Athena,
and much love for my twin.
Artemis shall fight for
Athena. So shall I.”
“Now, tell me my brother,”
Zeus sneered, “whom shall Hades
raise his banner for, hmmm?”
Poseidon knew the truth.
It would be Athena.
A battle against her
would beget a great war
he knew he could not win.
Regardless, he hungered
for vengeance in response
to her long-ago slight.
Though it shamed and pained him,
he knew to acquiesce.
“Very well,” Poseidon
lamented, “I shan’t use
force on the high priestess,
but seduction, willful
forfeit of purity,
is not a cause for war.
I shall have my vengeance
when Medusa’s body
is willfully intwined
in the throes of passion
of regal, divine lust.
The high-whore-priestess of
sacred virgin goddess.
That fair enough brother?”
Zeus couldn’t help but smiling
as he considered it.
This could prove a useful
precedent later on.
“Very well my brother,
now begins your trial:
Medusa’s seduction.”
