The beach is one of my favourite places ever.
Of course I never have seen it, but I have seen paintings.
Once I thought I would leave Athens for a short time and go to somewhere where I could see the sea. But that can never happen now I am a priestess of Athena. I have to stay in Athens, close to the temple.
Not that I am sorry about it in any way. Not at all!
How could I be?
My life is as good as can be. I am happy living in the temple. The girls are my friends- we are all servants of Athena together. We burn sacrifices together, we pray together- Athena is part of our life, woven into us like a golden thread in a grey blanket. We are the only ones who understand that this is not a sacrifice, that it is no loss, but a blessing. We are chosen by Athena, led here by the Fates, and our lives are a privilege.
Not only do us girls of Athena have our duties during the day, there are also the evenings.
Now the evenings are brilliant!
We girls have the best time known to man then. Music, dancing, art… men think that they are braver and cleverer than women? Never would they think that if they could see what we do! We write, we dance, we play, we listen, we think. Too little people do this nowadays. But we do. Such is the way of goddesses like Athena.
Me, I like weaving.
At this moment Philomel calls me. "Medusa! Come. Come and weave with me."
I shake my head and smile, though my fingers are itching. I feel like I should help the girls cooking in the kitchens. It is hard work cooking for the twenty women in this small temple of Athena.
That is what my sisters are doing. I feel that I should be as good a person as my sisters are, though it is hard. Sthenno and Euryale are the dearest, kindest, goodest sisters there ever were.
But Philomel is stubborn- though in such a sweet way that she does not seem it. "Come on, Medusa!" she entreats me. "You know you love doing it, and you do it beautifully too. Athena herself is the goddess of weaving. Think of it as another duty that must be done. Please!"
I sit down in the wooden seat beside her, laughing. "I never can argue with you, can I?"
"No!" she teases delightedly.
I reach for a bit of white thread.
I love everything about weaving- spending almost infinite time positioning the threads exactly where I want them, trying to make a picture with them. Then I move the shuttle and an image forms. Small tapestries are my specialty, but I sometimes make the clothes for the girls.
My last work is still on the loom. I resume it, fiddling with the cords that have slipped out of place and adding a little bit of thread where I have missed it before.
I take a breath. Shuttle, shuttle, shuttle- and the image is so good I can't tear my eyes away. How can it be that I am capable of this?
"That is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen!" Philomel cries. "How did you do it, Medusa?"
"I don't know." I cannot believe I could create this.
On my little tapestry satyrs dance, their hands linked. The fire inside the circle almost seems to flicker. They have their furry legs kicked out in front of them, and they look so happy. The fire sends long shadows behind them. Their hooves and horns glint in the light.
"It is amazing! You must be blessed by Athena." Philomel declares. "It makes me want to sing."
Sthenno, who has come up behind us, smiles. "Why not?"
My face creases as I beam at them, thrilled that anything I could make can do this. "Let us dance like satyrs!" I announce.
There is a scramble as several girls, who were listening, reach for things or crawl off their beds. Thekla, the best musician of all of us, takes her lyre and puts her fingers on the strings. Other women join hands, laughing. Thekla begins to pluck out a tune.
It rambles, it soars, and as the music fills our hearts, we begin to move.
Around and around, our legs kicking. Philomel begins to sing- a song without words. The tune glides above us, so it seems like Thekla's lyre and Philomel's pure voice are one. Sometimes I think that musicians have a higher soul than the rest of us. Perhaps all musicians- even the nightingales and the little songbirds that flit about the temple.
And we all dance, my friends, my sisters and I, by candlelight in our dark room.
I am happy.