Medusa

by Miriam English

 

It was a long time ago. People have forgotten, even though they still tell the story.

Medusa was Queen of a place where Libya now is, in the north of Africa on the southern shore of the Mediterranean. Those were wetter times and the ground was richer. Crops flourished, herds grew sleek and fat, and people had time to play and make art. It was a time when cities and kingdoms were measured in hundreds or thousands of people, not millions.

The leaders in Medusa's land were women. It had been this way for hundreds, probably thousands of years. Nobody knows how long exactly. Records would have been kept in the Great Library at Alexandria, until the Christians burned it all. It is all gone now... all lost... destroyed then rewritten into a perversion of history by angry, religious men.

Since time beyond remembering, women had maintained and passed on the knowledge of humankind. They were the keepers of language; the transmitters of words. Medusa was loved by her people whom she loved in return. Wisdom and compassion were a normal part of the way she saw life. She and her two sisters kept the peace and maintained fair trade with neighboring kingdoms.

When she was young, Medusa travelled widely in preparation for a life guiding her people. Being Queen was less a privilege than a responsibility and she learned about mathematics and writing and art. She learned about building and navigating ships, growing crops, and making tools. She was like the business manager for the kingdom. Her own needs and desires were secondary to the prosperity of her people. But life was good and she enjoyed her duties. Nobody worked terribly hard, including Medusa. There was always plenty of time for dancing and music, painting and sculpting, writing and lovemaking.

Her two sisters helped Medusa manage the knowledge and resources of their land. They were called sisters, but were actually related no more than most of the folk of this land. Position in this society was conferred by ability, not birth.

Stheno allocated manpower for work, and rarely, defense. She understood mechanics even better than Medusa, and how to use their tools to best advantage. She and Medusa befriended and were taught by Phoenician merchants traveling from as far afield as Tyre. Stheno also learned from the builders in Egypt.

The other sister, Euryale, specialised in knowledge of medicine and food. She knew about the tides and studied the weather patterns. In an age without clocks, she was the keeper of time. She knew when fish were near and how to find them, when to sow and reap. She knew the best times to pick medicinal herbs and how best to use them.

Medusa spent much of her recreation time sculpting. Her natural talent had been nurtured when, as a child, she had visited some of the Pharoah's sculptors. The hillside above the port town where she lived was now populated with many of her wondrously lifelike works. Her creations were famous. Merchants and travelers came from far away to see them.

Medusa's people were her greatest fans. She was like a latter-day pop idol. They loved her. Although she was the Queen, her house was no more grand than most other people's homes in her town, but it was central. It had to be. Every day, her people sought help and advice from Medusa and her sisters.

All three sisters were teachers. It was their duty to pass on their knowledge at every opportunity, enriching them all in the process.

One morning, Medusa was sitting in the mottled shade on her favorite rug, surrounded by the children, holding class. The gentle morning breeze from the bay below barely stirred the trees and grape vines here in the arboretum. It was not a formal class like we think of today; in those days learning was fun, and there was nothing the children enjoyed more than chatting with Medusa and her sisters about the ways of the world.

The sound of bees visiting the flowering apple trees around them blended with the echoing birdsong and the hiss of the rustling leaves among the taller trees. (The land was covered in beautiful woodlands in those days, long before they were cut down make the sad, dead, dry, parched land we know now.) Three of the children were grooming a fawn while another shared an apple with it. The adult deer grazed nearby, safe in the presence of these peaceful people.

Medusa stretched her long dark arms up in a yawn. "My darlings, we might pause for a little while. The boat of the foreigner will be at the jetty soon and I must go and greet them."

The children protested. "Not yet, please." "You were going to tell us about the foreigners." "Where do they come from?" "How far?"

She laughed her rich, song voice. "Alright children. Just a little longer, then I must greet the visitors."

Medusa looked out at the ship. It was painted with an eye at its prow and was faster and smaller than Phoenician or Egyptian vessels. "The ship comes from Sparta. A strange race of men live there, who so love to fight that they have made it their whole reason for living."

One little boy, puzzled asked, "They live for death? But that makes no sense, mother." (All the children called her mother.)

"How right you are, sweetheart." Medusa shook her head slightly, "I don't understand it either. Perhaps we can ask the visitors when they arrive."

"Their mothers might have learned the wrong things," a girl with long black hair suggested.

"I couldn't say. I have never seen any women on their ships. Nor do they ever talk of women. It is hard to believe, but they don't seem to have mothers. I'm very sad for them."

"They sound like monsters -- no mothers!" A young boy tensed at the thought.

Medusa laughed at that. "No, sweetie. People often are scared of those who are different from themselves. In fact they think we are the monsters. I have heard that their people think we are really ugly... so ugly that we can kill with our look." The children are astonished. "And they think our hair," she smiled and fingered the long plaited tresses, tied with bright red, yellow, and white string, "is a nest of snakes." She chuckled and all the children thought this was a great joke and fell about laughing.

"Growing snakes on your head!" "What silly people." Some were waving their hair about like serpents and hissing.

One quiet, serious little girl who Medusa was grooming to become a future queen, didn't take part in the mirth. She was frowning thoughtfully, "If the men don't have any women where they live, then the women must all live together somewhere else." She looked questioningly at Medusa.

"Very good darling." She reached out and held the child's hand, "Such a race of women do exist. They call themselves Amazons. They love to fight just as much as the Spartans do." She shook her head, "Some of these people in other lands have very strange ideas."

Just then Euryale interrupted, "My love, the ship approaches. The Harbormaster needs you to greet the visitor." She helped Medusa to her feet and they embraced and kissed.

Medusa smiled and caressed Euryale's cheek.

She turned back to the children, "Sweeties, you all stay here with Euryale. If you ask nicely, she might show you how to harvest the honey."

All the kids jumped to their feet, pleading with Euryale for the honey. Euryale threw Medusa a mock look of annoyance and led the milling, cheering children away toward the open woodland behind the hill.

Medusa set off down the hill toward the port. She waved to the Harbormaster as he made his way toward her. He was a tall, wiry man who knew more about the vessels from other lands than even Stheno. A soft-spoken, very, very black man, he was quietly efficient in everything he did. He, his wife, and children were closer friends to the three sisters than perhaps anybody else in this close-knit community.

When he was close enough, he spoke in his characteristic soft, low voice, "Medusa, I don't like the idea of you meeting this ship. These people are dangerous."

She laughed, "Not you too! I just finished telling the children that these people are simply misguided. No, dear friend. I must meet the visitor. They should be treated cordially."

He looked worried and held her hand.

She smiled and put her other hand on his shoulder, then turned and walked down to the pavilion where visitors were received. She stood before a table of flowers and fruits. Further behind her was large a group of seven citizens as the greeting party.

The men and the women on the jetty helped the men on the ship dock, then one olive-skinned man disembarked and did the strangest thing: he held a up shiny shield and walked backwards along the jetty to the shore, occasionally stumbling a little. He appeared to be using the shield as a mirror. Medusa smiled, and turned to her friends in the greeting party. They were chuckling and looking embarrassed for the poor backward-walking fool. She touched her finger to her lips to bid them quiet and straightened her smile to something softer and welcoming. She noticed that the Harbormaster was the only person frowning. He clearly did not like this.

The odd visitor was stumbling closer now. Medusa moved toward him with her usual greeting. She knew many languages and could speak the Spartan's tongue. "We welcome you to our land stranger. I am Medusa..." but she never finished her invitation because, to the horror of all present, the young man whisked his sword out and swung around viciously, severing Medusa's head. While the bystanders screamed in shock or fainted or simply stared, aghast, he resheathed his sword, swept Medusa's head into a bag, ran back to his ship and sailed away.

The folk watched in anguish as the body of their beloved Medusa jerked and trembled and poured blood out in an enormous red pool on the flagstones of the greeting pavilion. There was nothing they could do.

They had been visited by the adventurer Perseus, who had come to defeat the horrific Medusa and live on as a hero in stories which would be passed down for thousands of years.