The Lusty Journey of Perseus

Chapter 1Perseus’s favorite activity when he woke up in the morning was running on the beach. He had lived on the island of Seriphos all his life, and had been raised to be a fisherman, so nothing felt more like home to him than the tiny waves of the sea lapping at his feet as he dug into the sand, sprinting as fast as he could. One morning in his seventeenth year, he was in the middle of his run when he saw a boy he had never seen before reclining on the beach. This was remarkable, as Perseus knew practically everyone on the small island, and certainly all the boys his own age. Perseus knew that meant this young man could only be a visitor, which was a rare thing indeed. He looked to be Perseus’s age, and was clad in a small skirt of blue linen, tied low on his waist, with his upper body bare. He had a shaggy halo of golden curls, and his eyes were a piercing blue. He was a bit thicker and more muscular than Perseus, whose life of running and fishing gave him a lean, wiry frame. Perseus was told boys on the mainland played at games of strength—wrestling, discus, that sort of thing—and it made them brawnier. But to Perseus it seemed a waste of time. Who needed to be that strong just to fish? The boy looked over at him as Perseus approached, and a curious look crossed his face. “Why are you naked?” he asked. Perseus looked down at his nude body, unsure of why the boy would ask such a silly question. Of course he would be naked, as it was the custom for the beach-dwellers of the island, particularly on the summer days when the sun bore down on them without mercy. “It’s hot,” Perseus said. He wanted to add “Obviously,” but he didn’t wish to be rude. “But a woman might see you,” the boy said. “So?” The boy shook his head. “Antilius was right. This island is different.” He stood and extended his arm. “I’m Bellerophon,” he said. Perseus clasped his forearm in greeting. “Perseus. You’re from off the island.” Bellerophon sighed dramatically. “Yes. My father decided I needed some time away from the palace, so he sent me on a sailing trip with my tutor. I’m supposed to learn about other places and their customs. You really don’t mind if a woman sees you naked?” “Of course not. And did you say palace?” Perseus asked. His mother had told him tales of palaces, like the home she used to know before her father, Perseus’s grandfather, had exiled her upon discovering she was with child. Their homeland was a kingdom called Argos, Perseus knew, but the tiny island of Seriphos, with its bone-white sandy shores and turquoise waters, was the only true home he had ever known. “Yes, palace,” Bellerophon said, and he sighed wearily. “I’m a prince of Corinth. It’s incredibly boring. Anyway, I can’t believe you’re okay with a woman seeing you naked.” “Why would I not be?” “On the mainland it’s against the law for a woman to see a man without clothing. Unless it’s her husband.” “That seems like a lot of bother for no reason. What if it’s hot out? Or you forget your clothes at home?” Bellerophon laughed. “Islanders,” he said, and rolled his eyes. “So what do you do for fun here? Are there bards? Or players or acrobats?” “I don’t know what those are.” “You know, men who paint themselves up and entertain you.” That struck Perseus as the most bizarre concept he’d ever heard of. “No, we don’t have anything like that here.” “So how do you have fun?” Perseus had never given the subject so much thought before. “I don’t know. We tell each other stories. Play games with shells. Sing songs.” “You sing yourselves? You don’t have performers sing for you?” At this, Perseus laughed. “Of course. And we swim in the ocean.” Bellerophon looked out at the sea. “I’ve never just swam for fun before.” “Well,” Perseus said, “let’s go.” “What, now?” “Sure! Why not?” Bellerophon looked unsure. “Antilius—that’s my tutor—he won’t be pleased with me. Usually I have to get his approval before doing anything that might be dangerous.” “It’s not dangerous,” Perseus said. “Besides, I’ll be there with you.” Bellerophon looked from Perseus to the water and back again. “Well…I suppose I could. For a little while.” He started to undo the tie of his skirt, but then stopped and looked around. “If you’re worried about a woman seeing you, nobody comes to this part of the beach, especially this early in the day,” Perseus said. He began to wonder if there was something odd about the boy’s anatomy, and that was why he was so precious about exposing himself. Bellerophon still looked uncertain, but shrugged and dropped his skirt. Perseus smiled when he saw Bellerophon was as normal beneath his skirt as any other man, and then he dashed into the sea. Bellerophon, after a moment’s hesitation, followed suit. They swam for a while, splashing and laughing and playing at holding their breath under the water, and Perseus was pleased to see Bellerophon starting to relax and enjoy himself. After they had tired themselves out, they returned to the shore and stretched out on the sand. “What’s it like? Being a prince in a palace?” Perseus asked. “It’s the worst,” Bellerophon said. “My father says I have to learn all about law and armies and how to be a leader. But then he never tells me anything about that stuff, and just wants Antilius to teach me things. And it’s all pointless anyway, since I have two older brothers, so I’ll never actually be king. Honestly, I’d rather do anything than stay stuffed up in that palace. This trip was the first good thing my father ever suggested.” Perseus nodded. He then, very slowly, said, “I’m a prince.” Bellerophon looked at him for a moment, and then burst out laughing. “Yeah, right.” Perseus gazed out at the sea. “My grandfather is King Acrisius of Argos. An oracle prophesied to him that his grandson would kill him, so when my mother had me, he put us in a chest and threw us into the Middle Sea, hoping we’d drown. But we ended up here.” Bellerophon stared at him, mouth slightly open. “You’re serious, aren’t you?” “When we washed up on shore,” Perseus continued, still not looking at Bellerophon, “this really sweet couple found us and kind of adopted us. Dictys and Clymene. They’re like my grandparents. And Dictys is teaching me to be a fisherman. I’m pretty good, actually. We go out in his boat and catch fish, and then sell them in the market. Not the same as being a prince, but I like it.” Bellerophon shook his head and ran fingers through his wet hair. “Wow. But wait…if Acrisius is your grandfather, who’s your father?” Perseus frowned and finally met Bellerophon’s eye. “I don’t know. My mother won’t tell me. She said it doesn’t matter, anyway, because we’re never going back to Argos.” When Perseus saw Bellerophon’s face start to turn towards sympathy, he cleared his throat and said, “Which is fine with me. I love it here.” “That’s…quite a story,” Bellerophon said. “I guess so.” They were both silent for a moment, and then Bellerophon jumped to his feet. “I bet I can run faster than you!” he said. Perseus rose. “No way. I’m the best runner on the island.” “That’s not saying much. There are about five people on this island!” “Oh, yeah? Ready, set, go!” Perseus cried, and tore off like a lightning bolt. Behind him, he heard Bellerophon laugh and pound his feet, trying desperately to catch up. They spent many hours together that day on the beach, talking and laughing until the sun had reached its zenith and began its slow descent toward the horizon. Bellerophon told Perseus all there was to know about life in Corinth, and Perseus explained the finer intricacies of fishing, and laughed when Bellerophon politely strained to show interest. Bellerophon was unlike anyone he had ever met before, and certainly unlike any of the other youths his age on Seriphos, of which there were precious few, and even fewer that Perseus got along with. As the afternoon lazed on, they once again reclined on the beach, Bellerophon mindlessly balling up his skirt in his hands. No one had come by, and so Perseus guessed he had grown comfortable in his nudity and hadn’t seen a point to putting his skirt back on. “You said you sing songs?” Bellerophon asked. “Sure.” “Could you sing something for me?” Perseus felt a blush coloring his cheeks. “I’m embarrassed.” “Oh, please, don’t be. I really want to hear a song.” Perseus made a big show of sighing dramatically, and then said, “All right.” He closed his eyes and began to sing, tentative at first but then more confidently, singing a song that his surrogate grandfather Dictys had taught him. It was a sailor’s song, giving thanks to Poseidon and praising the beauty of the nereids, his sea-nymph children. When he was finished, he opened his eyes, and saw Bellerophon was looking at him in a strange way, a way no one had ever looked at him before. “That was really beautiful,” he said. Perseus blushed again and looked away. “You know,” he said, “I shouldn’t have told you. About being a prince of Argos.” “Why not?” “My mother made me promise to not tell anyone. She said if word got out, my real grandfather would come looking for us here so he could kill me.” “By the gods,” Bellerophon said. “So…why did you tell me?” Perseus shrugged. “I don’t know. I just…I wanted to.” He turned his head toward Bellerophon, who was still looking at him in that strange way. “Have you ever kissed anyone?” Bellerophon asked suddenly. “What?” “I was just thinking…I’ve never been, you know…kissed. This boy wanted to once, some son of a king from a nearby city, but I didn’t like him.” Perseus felt his heart start to quicken. His mouth was suddenly quite dry. “Um…no. I’ve never kissed anyone.” Bellerophon swallowed, and his voice was unsteady. “Do you want to try?” Breathless, Perseus nodded. As the sun sank lower in the sky, Bellerophon leaned over and softly brushed his lips against Perseus’s. Perseus felt a tingle go through his whole body, and leaned in more, pressing their mouths together. As their lips opened and their tongues began to touch… “Bellerophon!” They sprang away from each other, startled by the voice. Perseus looked up and saw a man of about fifty, clad in an ornate blue chiton tunic and sturdy sandals, marching toward them with a purpose in his step. His wispy white hair blew in the breeze as he marched along. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his voice harsh. Bellerophon rolled his eyes. “Hello, Antilius.” “I leave you alone for five minutes and you disappear! I’ve been searching this entire island for you. All day! And then I find you here, naked like a savage and doing the gods know what with this…this…islander! What if a woman came by and saw you? What would your father say?” Bellerophon looked at Perseus. “My tutor. Isn’t he charming?” “Put your tunic on right now! We’re leaving,” Antilius declared. Bellerophon’s eyes were soft and apologetic. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t want the day to end this way. Actually I didn’t want it to end at all.” Perseus grinned, Bellerophon’s words warming him from the inside. “I didn’t, either.” “Maybe we’ll find each other again one day,” Bellerophon said, and leaned in and kissed Perseus again. “Bellerophon! Now!” Antilius yelled. And with that, the strange young man stood, tied his skirt around his hips, and walked off with Antilius. Perseus watched him go. When they were about twenty yards away, Bellerophon turned back to him and waved, and Perseus returned the gesture. Then he was gone. * * * * “And where were you, my love? Gone so long today,” Perseus’s mother, Danae, said when he walked through the door of their little hut. She was sitting at the tiny table—the only piece of furniture that wasn’t the giant straw pallet where they all slept—and was playing a dice game with Dictys and Clymene. All three were naked, and it struck Perseus as so odd that anyone would find objection to something as normal and unremarkable as a mortal body.