The Oracle of Delphi (Greek Myth Fantasy Series) (2 page)

25 years later

Perseus rubbed the sand between his palms briskly before letting it drop to the ground. Clapping his hands together, a cloud of dust rose up to greet him. He prepared himself for the last event of the competition - the discus throw.

He was the last one to compete in this event, having already scored well in the spear toss and foot race. He bent down and gripped the discus at his feet, feeling a rush of elation sweep his body at the thrill of using his athletic abilities. It was large and heavy, made especially for a demi-god by his surrogate father, Dictys. Most of the islanders of Seriphus could throw a discus better than him and he knew it. Still, he reminded himself, he was half god and able to accomplish any feat he tackled.

Perseus had the strength of Zeus on his side, though he rarely used it since he couldn’t control it. But with the king of the gods as his father, he couldn’t help but want to use his power now to help him win the competition.

He nodded to the crowd of onlookers, mostly fishermen, infatuated peasant wenches, and young boys who dreamed of someday becoming warriors. He gripped the circular piece, twirling his body round and round, his feet kicking up sand beneath him. He focused on his target - the tall, rotting stump at the end of the long beach. The crowd cheered him on, their voices filling him with glory and pride. The rest of the world may not know he existed, but on the island of Seriphus they considered him their champion. Here, he was all the people had to look up to. King Polydectes, the brother of Dictys, had worked the people to the bone, taking almost all they had and giving naught in return. The people feared the king and never left the island except to fish, because of the king’s overbearing ways.

“Steady,” called Dictys, proud as usual that he had helped raise the son of Zeus.

“Concentrate,” came his mother’s ever-beautiful voice floating on the warm island breeze.

“You can do it!” Iris, Dictys’ wife, urged him on as well.

He controlled his breathing, spun a bit faster, and with target in sight let loose with the disc. It sailed a straight, accurate line over the sand, slicing the stump in half just as he’d visualized it. But once again, his pride sabotaged his results. His unhoned power had the discus ricocheting off a rock and heading back toward them.

“I’ve got it,” he called, picking up a rake nearby and smashing it into the flying discus before it could injure any of the bystanders. The orb stopped in motion, and as the rake handle smashed to pieces, both fell to the ground.

The crowd stopped hiding their heads and clapped softly. Then the prize - a boat - was awarded to the young man who had won the competition. Perseus smiled and congratulated the winner, but his heart felt heavy in his chest.

The young man was awarded a boat - something that could take him off this island. In all his five and twenty years, Perseus had never left the island. Not only had his mother stopped him, but the king also forbade leaving. A champion of Seriphus was the closest he would get to being called a true hero, but today even that dream was unfulfilled.

“You need to leash that strength of yours,” warned Dictys. “Someday you’re going to kill someone without even trying.”

He saw the look in his mother’s eyes. Saddened horror shadowed her life, and Perseus couldn’t help but feel somehow he was involved. She kept a secret from him, and throughout the years he had never been able to discover it. But today he would. Today he planned on coaxing the secrets of her past from the mother he loved.

“Come,” Iris told her husband. “Help me prepare dinner.”

Perseus watched Dictys’ mouth open, about to object, then close again when he noticed his wife nodding her head toward them. With a smile toward Perseus, he excused himself and followed her inside.

“You are a wonderful athlete,” his mother told him. “I am very proud of you, son.”

“And you are a wonderful liar, Mother. I may be able to outrun anyone in a foot race or even throw a spear farther than the king’s men, but I am no athlete when it comes to tossing a discus.”

He placed his arm around her shoulder as they walked along the beach. Hot sand beneath their feet cooled as the waves lapped at the shore. Danaë’s long robe dragged along the wet sand, leaving a trail behind them. A chain of island flowers Perseus had woven into a belt for her, hung low on her hips. Flower essence nearly as sweet as his beautiful mother drifted on the breeze.

He wore the usual attire of the Greeks: a short white tunic ending just above his knees; a thick black belt encircling his waist; and a sword swinging from the scabbard he himself had constructed from leather.

“You just need to hone your demi-god strength,” she told him. “With practice, you will be just fine.”

“I’d rather not use it, than make a fool of myself. I can perform the sports better if I am in control.”

“Every athlete needs to learn control,” she told him.

“I’m not an athlete, Mother, unless I compete in the games of Athens. And we both know that will never happen unless I leave this desolate little island. I need to go to Athens where the real athletes are pitted against each other in games of skill.”

“Don’t tell me you want to leave again.”

“I’m a grown man, Mother. I need to go out and be part of the world, not be hidden away on a small island being raised as a fisherman. I am the son of Zeus, King of the Gods. You’ve told me to be proud of who begot me. But how can I, when I live the life of a hermit, hidden away from the rest of the world?”

“It is best if you stay right here, Perseus. ’Twould be better for all involved.”

“And why is that?” he asked. “What are you keeping from me, Mother?”

She feigned a laugh. It was forced and awkward. She tried to blink the wetness from her eyes, but Perseus saw her tears.

“This island is our home, Perseus. We don’t need to go anywhere else.”

“Someone needs to leave, if only to show King Polydectes that he cannot control us. I’ve stayed for you all these years, but it’s time to move on now. I’m going to take you away from here, Mother. We will go to the mainland and live among others who were begot by the gods. I will make you proud by competing in the skilled games. Who knows, I may even decide to climb Mt. Olympus and finally get to meet my father.”

“Perseus, I understand your burning desire to explore. I once had it too, many years ago. But this is our home. If we left, where would we live?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Mayhap Sparta or Athens.” He watched his mother’s face as a shadow seemed to darken her features. “Or perhaps … Argos,” he continued.

She had never told him they had once lived in Argos, but somehow he knew. His suspicions were confirmed when he noticed the alarmed look in her eyes.

“Why did you take me from my homeland?” he asked. “What is it you are trying to keep from me?”

“I was trying to protect you, son, by keeping you here. I didn’t take you from Argos. We were sent away by the hand of my own father. I’ve been trying to cheat the Fates, but I can see it’s of no use. I think it is time I told you the whole truth.”

Perseus sat his mother down under a tree and took a place at her side. The crowd dispersed behind him, going about their daily chores of fishing, stomping grapes into wine, and plowing the fields - all for the king.

The skies over Seriphus were brighter than his mother’s eyes. The sands, like gold, sparkled in the sun, graced by the aqua waters of Poseidon, King of the Sea. He would miss this island, but not the ruler upon it. Once his mother told him of his past, he would say his good-byes to Seriphus forever.

“I am ready,” he said. “Now please tell me everything.”

Perseus listened intently as his mother told him between sobs of the prophecy of the Oracle of Delphi. When she relayed the wrath of his grandfather, Perseus could not help but want to kill the man for what he had done to them.

“The gods have smiled on you, my mother. You need not fear for me.”

“But you will murder your grandfather if you leave here,” she told him.

“No, I will not. I know how much he means to you, though he did us wrong. But I will not kill my grandfather, for your sake.”

“You must be careful, my son. Stay away from Acrisius and stay far away from Argos.”

“If that is all you fear, your worries are for naught. You don’t need to keep me on this island to stop the oracle’s prophecy from coming true.”

“But you do not understand, Perseus. There is nothing you can do to change the road of fate.”

“Then I guess your will to keep me here has not mattered at all, has it?”

He kissed his mother lightly on the forehead, admiring her strength to endure the trials she’d been through. King Acrisius deserved to die, and he would happily take the man’s life for trying to kill his own daughter. But a promise made to his mother would not be broken.

“There is more,” she said, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. Perseus reached out to gently touch her cheek, wiping away a tear with his thumb. “There is a girl. She is the daughter of King Cepheus and Queen Cassiopeia. Her name is Princess Andromeda. She will be an important part of your life.”

“How so?” asked Perseus.

“It is not for me to guess. The oracle speaks in riddles, and all was not clear. It was said she is the one to help you accomplish a feat, but yet she is also the one who will try to stop you.”

“Now I know the oracle speaks nonsense. That makes no sense at all. Besides,” he told her with a wink, “never would I let a woman help me, and never would I let one stop me from my goals. None but you, dear Mother.”

He helped her to her feet and they both laughed. He embraced her, glad to know he still had the power to make her smile. He ran a hand over her hair to smooth it, pulling her to his chest in a loving embrace. As he looked over her head, he saw the entourage of Dictys’ brother’s army heading for their door. The soldiers marched on foot, only the king on a horse, as the animals were scarce on the island.

“King Polydectes arrives.” He released his mother, laying his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Perseus, it is all right.” She reached out to him, stopping him from drawing his weapon.

“I don’t like him. He has eyes for you. He is a cruel, heartless, greedy man who takes everything he wants, including the island of Seriphus as his own.”

The king had asked Perseus more than once to join his armed forces. Though Perseus knew the king could use a man of his skills, he turned him down, saying he would never pledge loyalty to a dishonorable king.

“Do not anger Polydectes,” Danaë warned him. “The people of the island have accepted him as their king.”

“Only because they fear him,” he challenged her. “It is time someone stands up to the wretched king.”

“Well, let it be someone besides yourself.”

Perseus ran a hand through his dark hair, jaw clenched in aggravation.

“Who do you suggest do it? Dictys and the fishermen of the island? The only warriors that grace the place have already been persuaded to join Polydectes’ army. If I do not save the people from his ways, then I am not worthy to be called the son of Zeus, who is by far the greatest king of all.”

“Come,” she said, gently pulling at his garment. “Let us welcome them to our humble abode.”

Perseus walked alongside his mother, but rested his hand atop his sword. Eyeing the men marching on either side of the King of Seriphus, something warned him this was not a social call. They wore more weapons than usual. They had a glint in their eyes as they looked at him. He didn’t like it in the least.

“Welcome, King Polydectes,” his mother called out, waving her hand slightly in the air to gain his attention. “We did not expect you here today from the other side of the island. Have you come to see your brother?”

“My dear, dear, Danaë.”

King Polydectes dismounted with the help of his men. His weight constricted him from moving any faster than a land turtle. His full, round face melded into his chins, giving Perseus the impression the man had no neck at all. A crown of ornate gold and silver, cast with rich sparkling jewels, was perched atop his head doing nothing to hold down his ragged tufts of hair.

His tunic of gold pulled taut around his huge frame as he settled himself on the ground, steadying his body against his soldiers before daring to stand on his own. He smoothed down his robes, strutted through his hoard of men and smiled at the onlookers in the distance. Then, approaching Danaë, he held out the large emerald ring on his thumb and waited.

Perseus cringed when he saw her bend to kiss it. The man sickened him with the way he put himself so high upon a pedestal. Only the gods should be treated with such devoted, reverent respect.

“I see your son is scowling today.” The king looked in his direction.

“Perseus,” came his mother’s soft word of warning.

The king sauntered forward, holding his ring out for Perseus to pay it tribute as well. Perseus stepped forward, eyeing the large stone. He  wondered how many islanders worked day and night to support the man’s fetishes, not only to go to bed hungry because he’d taxed them senseless, but also confiscated their food for himself. Perseus wouldn’t pay respect to a man who hadn’t earned it. King Polydectes needed to know he couldn’t frighten the son of Zeus into submission. He slapped the king’s hand away and spat at his feet.