Chapter Text
"My father will give his consent," Calypso assured him once again, smiling with those sweet, pale pink lips. Her skin, bronzed by the coastal sun, contrasted beautifully with the white dress fastened at the shoulders with iron clasps. "You just have to show him how much you care."
"I would give my life for you," Odysseus declared then, taking her hand and kissing her knuckles.
"I know that. But you must convince my father as well."
With the passage of time, he wondered whether he should have taken that promise literally.
But then, blinded by desperation, he sailed out in a small boat onto the sea, all the way to the place where rocks rose from the water and a massive coastal mountain cast a shadow upon the waves — a shadow that, although welcome during the summer heat, felt ominously cold in that place.
Ithaca. The island of exile and the bay of the monster. The bay of forgetting, the bay of serpents, and the bay of the blue pearl. That is what the legends said. Supposedly, long ago, a hideous woman had been banished to this place, whom the gods, as part of a grotesque mockery, had gifted with countless treasures — among them the most beautiful pearl ever created in the world. Many had tried to reach that treasure, yet every crew of sailors and bandits vanished, and news of them fell silent. But Odysseus was not called the best swimmer in the village without reason. He knew the sea, understood its laws and whims. Therefore he did not make the mistake his predecessors had made; instead of dropping anchor along the rocky shore in hopes that it would somehow protect the boat from strong currents, he found a promising flat rock, large enough to climb onto safely, certain that even the tide would not cover its peak. Throwing off his tunic, he tied a rope made of palm fiber around his leg and jumped into the water. He swam to the rock, avoiding sea urchins, climbed onto the stone, and pulled the boat closer. Then, using the incoming wave, he dragged the craft higher and secured it among the rocks. This was possible because his boat, specially designed for such purposes, was not only incredibly durable but almost impossibly light. After all, he had designed it himself.
Although he knew that was not true.
He liked to think he was the first man to set foot on this deserted island.
He stepped out, dripping with water, regretting that he had not chosen to travel in sandals. But shoes were expensive, and the ocean was full of salt.
He expected that searching the small island, with its little wooded grove, would not take long. He did not expect, however, that the moment he moved slightly away from the sea he would hear the rustle of grass accompanied by hissing and rattling — and when he looked around, he saw dozens of multicolored snakes and scorpions crawling out from bushes and beneath stones, cutting off his path of escape. Those behind him hissed again, slowly slithering toward him. Which was surprising, since such creatures usually avoided humans, attacking only as a last resort.
Odysseus stomped on the ground, trying to scare them away, but the response was another hiss, and one of the vipers even coiled and leapt forward, clearly suggesting it would strike once he came close enough.
Odysseus had no chance to ponder the reptiles’ strange behavior; in desperation he rushed forward, trying to escape the venomous animals. Yet he was not allowed to reach another part of the shoreline and throw himself into the safe abyss of the blue sea. Each time he thought he saw the edge of the grass, warning colors of poisonous creatures appeared there. Shelter, to his astonishment, he found near a small grove of trees where snakes also writhed in clusters. A rock about three meters high stood there, and in one of its walls a black gap yawned — a crack about half a meter wide and slightly taller than one and a half meters. Odysseus rushed toward it, and barely minutes later, along the boundary of a semicircle about a meter from the entrance, snakes and scorpions gathered by the thousands, in numbers greater than he had ever seen. Carefully, he retreated deeper into the rock.
The rocky fissure turned out to be a stone corridor that led him into a vast cavern illuminated by light falling through openings carved into solid rock with a view of the horizon. It was cooler here than outside. It would probably have been pleasant if not for his still-wet body. He looked around with curiosity and almost could not suppress a quiet sigh. Against the opposite wall were piled mountains of gold and all kinds of valuables, reflecting the sunlight and surrounding everything with a yellowish glow. And in the middle of those heaps of gold stood a stone throne, its seat covered in golden satin. Somewhere in his mind warning bells rang, but the sight of such immense wealth dulled his caution. He approached, dropping to his knees in awe at what his eyes beheld. He plunged his hands into the gold coins, savoring the feeling of wealth flowing through his fingers. He threw himself into the piles, immersed in the sensation as gold surrounded his skin and struck him when he tossed it upward like a golden rain.
And then he looked at the throne. Intricately carved. The golden satin, like everything else, dazzled the eyes, but what drew attention was the ring resting upon the material. A ring whose golden ornaments held the largest pearl he had ever seen. Blue.
"Breath-taking, isn’t it?" he heard a cold voice say. Startled, he nearly dropped the treasure as he turned sharply. Beneath the windows where he had stood moments before, with her back to him, stood a woman. Slim and ethereal, dressed in a delicate white toga adorned with golden ornaments. But what drew his attention most were her hair — or rather the place where hair should have been, for from her head snakes coiled and writhed, crawling over one another and twisting in a rhythm known only to them.
Medusa.
In an instant, fear seized him. And with that fear his mind regained clarity, along with the knowledge supplied by legends. He fell to his knees, not daring to raise his eyes, and thus could only hear the woman approaching him. Slowly, unhurriedly. Like a predator that knows its prey has nowhere to run.
"You have trespassed upon my lands," the woman said when she was close.
"I-I’m sorry," he whispered, trying to sound as humble as possible.
"Did you not know that the island is forbidden to you mortals?"
He opened his mouth again, but she interrupted him.
"Lying is punishable by death," she warned. So he closed his mouth, shaking his head desperately.
"I-I’m sorry."
"Not only have you entered a place where you are not allowed…" she sat on the throne. He saw her golden sandals shifting at the foot of it, barely two meters from him. "…but nothing stopped you from scattering my gold and stealing my jewelry."
With horror he realized he was still clutching the pearl. With a trembling hand he set the ring down as far away as he could.
"…You place priceless treasures on the floor," Medusa continued counting.
"Forgive me, my lady!" He struck his forehead against the ground but did not dare pick up the ring again. Odysseus knew when someone was toying with him, and he had no intention of being provoked.
"…you interrupt me… and you wish to rob me. Look at me, mortal!"
Odysseus raised his gaze only as far as her knees. He had heard the legends. And he had no intention of being fooled. If the woman wanted to pretend to be a judge, he would play along.
"I… I do not dare, my lady." He struck his forehead against the floor again. "I am unworthy."
"Ah…" a note of amusement rang in her voice. "Perhaps you do have a bit of sense in that head of yours, hmm? Mortal? Very well. Perhaps I will allow you to defend yourself. Do you have any explanation for your actions?"
"I…" he hesitated.
"No lies."
"I… I wished to give the pearl to my beloved, my lady," he whispered. His confession was met with laughter.
"So you were ready to give your life for a gift for a girl?"
"I love her!"
"It seems you love your life more."
"No! I mean… that’s not…"
"You are stumbling over your words, mortal. But that is normal. Love tangles men’s minds."
He did not dare to reply.
"So very well… your motives do not interest me. Tell me instead what I should do with you. Your stupidity deserves death, but I believe that is not what you would like to hear?"
"Please, my Lady… I… I will do anything… so…"
"Stand." she commanded, which he obeyed immediately.
"Anything, you say…" She fell into thought. "Will you serve me then?"
"If that is your wish." he bowed his head. She laughed.
"So eager to obey. Very well. I like you. Therefore, to begin with, pick up my ring and put it on my finger."
She extended her hand, long sun-kissed fingers forming a meaningful gesture. Obediently he picked up the ring with the blue pearl and carefully stepped forward. The snakes on her head hissed in warning and brushed against him with their scales, yet Odysseus suppressed the urge to look in their direction. He did not want to risk accidentally meeting her eyes.
He slid the ring onto her ring finger, but did not manage to step back before—
"Kiss me, to seal the agreement."
She moved her hand meaningfully, and he indeed placed a kiss upon her knuckles. Her skin was cool. Like the air inside the cave.
Only then was he able to step away. He felt her gaze upon him.
"Very well then… mortal. What shall I call you?"
"I am Odysseus, my Lady."
"Excellent, mortal." She did not even bother repeating his name. "And so my first command will be that you put something on. For although you are a pretty boy, you are not something I wish to look at all the time."
Had he not been dying of nervousness, he probably would have blushed.
Medusa once again thought that there was something wildly amusing in all of this, for she laughed again, and the dry sound echoed through the chamber.