She dropped her hand and as it swung by her side she sucked in a breath. In one smooth motion she drew back her right fist and drove it into the silver bark. She hit the trunk with such force a tiny crack appeared in the wood grain. As she pulled away, blood trickled down the peeling bark. Against the wine-dark fluid it looked like bone.
“Goodbye, Graybeard,” Danae whispered and turned away, dripping blood onto the soil as she walked.
6
Son of Thunder
Six months later, the hut reeked of bitter herbs, sweat and blood. Danae massaged her sister’s back while Alea knelt on all fours, blankets spread underneath her swollen belly.
“Danae,” Alea groaned.
She leaned close so their mother wouldn’t hear.
“I don’t want her watching.” Alea’s eyes darted to the wooden figurine of Hera their mother had set on the table.
Zeus’s wife was the patron deity of childbirth. The statue had been present for the births of all Eleni’s children and was something of a good luck charm to their mother, who knew nothing of what it would mean to her daughter.
Danae nodded and scrambled to her feet.
“Get more cloths,” Eleni barked.
Danae glanced back. Her mother was kneeling between her sister’s legs, far too preoccupied to notice her turn the figurine away from Alea.
During the long months since Alea had confided in Danae, she had become increasingly anxious about Hera taking revenge on her child. To comfort her, Danae told her stories of Heracles, the mortal son of Zeus, and the greatest hero who’d ever lived. She recounted the tale of Hera sending a pair of venomous snakes into Heracles’s crib. The hero had grasped them in his little fists and shaken them so hard he addled their brains. It was said that the following morning he’d been found asleep, cuddling the dead reptiles like a pair of dolls. Alea loved that story, but Danae came to regret telling her, as, from then on, her sister’s new obsession became pondering what special demigod powers her child would inherit.
She had considered sharing the burden of Alea’s secret with her parents. But she barely saw her father anymore; he rose before dawn and returned after dark, working twice as hard to bring in half the coin. Her mother’s edges had sharpened under the strain of holding the family together. Eleni’s temper had become so volatile, Danae hadn’t dared bring up Zeus, the shade or the Maenads again.
Alea’s labor had started in the early hours. Danae had woken in the dark to discover their pallet soaked. Her father had already left for the day’s fishing. She and her mother busied themselves with preparing boiling water, tearing up old tunics and burning sacred herbs.
She imagined it would be like delivering a baby goat, intense and visceral, with the ordeal being over swiftly. But Alea had been struggling all day. She could see the strength draining from her sister with each spasm. As time crawled on, her vague feeling of worry had become a writhing knot in her stomach.
Alea rocked back and forth, lowing like a wounded heifer.
What if the child wouldn’t come? What if the baby was a kakodaimon, an evil spirt, that would kill her sister by tearing its way out?
Her mother wiped the sweat from her brow and pressed the sides of her sister’s stomach. She looked up, face tight with fear.
“The baby’s turned the wrong way.”
Alea bellowed as another contraction racked her body.
“Danae.” Her mother beckoned.
She moved to Eleni’s side.
“I need you to help me,” her mother whispered. “I’ve got to turn the baby the right way round or it will suffocate. As soon as I say push, I need you to make her do it, understand?”
Danae nodded, swallowing the saliva pooling in her mouth. She moved back to face her sister and wriggled her fingers between Alea’s clenched fists.
“Hold on to my hands.”
As her mother turned the baby, Alea screamed. The air rushed from Danae’s lungs as her sister gripped her fingers so hard, she thought they would break. Then Alea’s head sagged onto their tangled fists, only for her body to clench a breath later, as another contraction broke through her.
“Now, push now!” Eleni called, her arms slick with Alea’s blood.
“I can’t,” Alea sobbed. “I can’t do it.”
Danae pressed her forehead against her sister’s. “You can, we’ll do it together. I’m with you.”
