The Heroes; Or, Greek Fairy Tales for My Children. Charles Kingsley

in grief.

      Now one day at Samos, while the ship was lading, Perseus wandered into a pleasant wood to get out of the sun, and sat down on the turf and fell asleep.  And as he slept a strange dream came to him—the strangest dream which he had ever had in his life.

      There came a lady to him through the wood, taller than he, or any mortal man; but beautiful exceedingly, with great gray eyes, clear and piercing, but strangely soft and mild.  On her head was a helmet, and in her hand a spear.  And over her shoulder, above her long blue robes, hung a goat-skin, which bore up a mighty shield of brass, polished like a mirror.  She stood and looked at him with her clear gray eyes; and Perseus saw that her eye-lids never moved, nor her eyeballs, but looked straight through and through him, and into his very heart, as if she could see all the secrets of his soul, and knew all that he had ever thought or longed for since the day that he was born.  And Perseus dropped his eyes, trembling and blushing, as the wonderful lady spoke.

      ‘Perseus, you must do an errand for me.’

      ‘Who are you, lady?  And how do you know my name?’

      ‘I am Pallas Athené; and I know the thoughts of all men’s hearts, and discern their manhood or their baseness.  And from the souls of clay I turn away, and they are blest, but not by me.  They fatten at ease, like sheep in the pasture, and eat what they did not sow, like oxen in the stall.  They grow and spread, like the gourd along the ground; but, like the gourd, they give no shade to the traveller, and when they are ripe death gathers them, and they go down unloved into hell, and their name vanishes out of the land.

      ‘But to the souls of fire I give more fire, and to those who are manful I give a might more than man’s.  These are the heroes, the sons of the Immortals, who are blest, but not like the souls of clay.  For I drive them forth by strange paths, Perseus, that they may fight the Titans and the monsters, the enemies of Gods and men.  Through doubt and need, danger and battle, I drive them; and some of them are slain in the flower of youth, no man knows when or where; and some of them win noble names, and a fair and green old age; but what will be their latter end I know not, and none, save Zeus, the father of Gods and men.  Tell me now, Perseus, which of these two sorts of men seem to you more blest?’

      Then Perseus answered boldly: ‘Better to die in the flower of youth, on the chance of winning a noble name, than to live at ease like the sheep, and die unloved and unrenowned.’

      Then that strange lady laughed, and held up her brazen shield, and cried: ‘See here, Perseus; dare you face such a monster as this, and slay it, that I may place its head upon this shield?’

      And in the mirror of the shield there appeared a face, and as Perseus looked on it his blood ran cold.  It was the face of a beautiful woman; but her cheeks were pale as death, and her brows were knit with everlasting pain, and her lips were thin and bitter like a snake’s; and instead of hair, vipers wreathed about her temples, and shot out their forked tongues; while round her head were folded wings like an eagle’s, and upon her bosom claws of brass.

      And Perseus looked awhile, and then said: ‘If there is anything so fierce and foul on earth, it were a noble deed to kill it.  Where can I find the monster?’

      Then the strange lady smiled again, and said: ‘Not yet; you are too young, and too unskilled; for this is Medusa the Gorgon, the mother of a monstrous brood.  Return to your home, and do the work which waits there for you.  You must play the man in that before I can think you worthy to go in search of the Gorgon.’

      Then Perseus would have spoken, but the strange lady vanished, and he awoke; and behold, it was a dream.  But day and night Perseus saw before him the face of that dreadful woman, with the vipers writhing round her head.

      So he returned home; and when he came to Seriphos, the first thing which he heard was that his mother was a slave in the house of Polydectes.

      Grinding his teeth with rage, he went out, and away to the king’s palace, and through the men’s rooms, and the women’s rooms, and so through all the house (for no one dared stop him, so terrible and fair was he), till he found his mother sitting on the floor, turning the stone hand-mill, and weeping as she turned it.  And he lifted her up, and kissed her, and bade her follow him forth.  But before they could pass out of the room Polydectes came in, raging.  And when Perseus saw him, he flew upon him as the mastiff flies on the boar.  ‘Villain and tyrant!’ he cried; ‘is this your respect for the Gods, and thy mercy to strangers and widows?  You shall die!’  And because he had no sword he caught up the stone hand-mill, and lifted it to dash out Polydectes’ brains.

      But his mother clung to him, shrieking, ‘Oh, my son, we are strangers and helpless in the land; and if you kill the king, all the people will fall on us, and we shall both die.’

      Good Dictys, too, who had come in, entreated him.  ‘Remember that he is my brother.  Remember how I have brought you up, and trained you as my own son, and spare him for my sake.’

      Then Perseus lowered his hand; and Polydectes, who had been trembling all this while like a coward, because he knew that he was in the wrong, let Perseus and his mother pass.

      Perseus took his mother to the temple of Athené, and there the priestess made her one of the temple-sweepers; for there they knew she would be safe, and not even Polydectes would dare to drag her away from the altar.  And there Perseus, and the good Dictys, and his wife, came to visit her every day; while Polydectes, not being able to get what he wanted by force, cast about in his wicked heart how he might get it by cunning.

      Now he was sure that he could never get back Danae as long as Perseus was in the island; so he made a plot to rid himself of him.  And first he pretended to have forgiven Perseus, and to have forgotten Danae; so that, for a while, all went as smoothly as ever.

      Next he proclaimed a great feast, and invited to it all the chiefs, and landowners, and the young men of the island, and among them Perseus, that they might all do him homage as their king, and eat of his banquet in his hall.

      On the appointed day they all came; and as the custom was then, each guest brought his present with him to the king: one a horse, another a shawl, or a ring, or a sword; and those who had nothing better brought a basket of grapes, or of game; but Perseus brought nothing, for he had nothing to bring, being but a poor sailor-lad.

      He was ashamed, however, to go into the king’s presence without his gift; and he was too proud to ask Dictys to lend him one.  So he stood at the door sorrowfully, watching the rich men go in; and his face grew very red as they pointed at him, and smiled, and whispered, ‘What has that foundling to give?’

      Now this was what Polydectes wanted; and as soon as he heard that Perseus stood without, he bade them bring him in, and asked him scornfully before them all, ‘Am I not your king, Perseus, and have I not invited you to my feast?  Where is your present, then?’

      Perseus blushed and stammered, while all the proud men round laughed, and some of them began jeering him openly.  ‘This fellow was thrown ashore here like a piece of weed or drift-wood, and yet he is too proud to bring a gift to the king.’

      ‘And though he does not know who his father is, he is vain enough to let the old women call him the son of Zeus.’

      And so forth, till poor Perseus grew mad with shame, and hardly knowing what he said, cried out,—‘A present! who are you who talk of presents?  See if I do not bring a nobler one than all of yours together!’

      So he said boasting; and yet he felt in his heart that he was braver than all those scoffers, and more able to do some glorious deed.

      ‘Hear him!  Hear the boaster!  What is it to be?’ cried they all, laughing louder than ever.

      Then his dream at Samos came into his mind, and he cried aloud, ‘The head of the Gorgon.’

      He was half afraid after he had said the words for all laughed louder than ever, and Polydectes loudest of all.

      ‘You have promised to bring me the Gorgon’s head?  Then never appear again in this island without it.  Go!’

      Perseus ground his teeth with rage, for he saw that he had fallen into a trap; but his promise lay upon him,