About Perseus and his training. Another bits from Perseus' Grandosn
Small note - Perseus was drunk in this scenes
-The priestess taught me her craft. Hymns, prayers; dressing the statue in a new peplos… I still remember that peplos. Yellow, like onion husks. I was a bad student. The priestess was angry. She beat me with a wet cloth. And then Athena appeared. The priestess wet herself with fear at the sight of the goddess. And I threw a rock at my sister. I said I would never be her priest. And if she tries to force me… Gods, how she laughed! "Who do you want to be?" asked Maiden.
—A hero! — The boys shouted in unison.
—You guessed right,— Perseus nodded. There was a sadness in his voice that the children couldn't understand. — All right, — Athena said. Dad wants you to be a hero too. And she hit me with a spear.…
—With a spear?— The guard gasped. He was looking at his own spear as if he were Athena, and any minute now he was going to attack the Gorgon Slayer.
— The blunt end. I fell to the ground. It was very painful. Get up, she ordered. If you don't get up, you'll be a priest. I stood up, and she hit me again. "You should see the punch! Not a weapon, not an enemy. Blow!" And so it went on day after day. She hit, I fell. It's continued until I haven't figured out the main thing yet.
— That the gods always win? — The guard sighed.
Music was pouring from the palace. This is how Chios wine, redolent of mastic resin, pours into the darkness of the crater. The "Art of the Muses" was heavily diluted with drunken hubbub. The nasal avlos of reed and bone was echoed by the stringy rumble of a lyre. A pipe was cooing faintly. Someone clattered bronze cymbals at random. Laughter was the answer to a fool. And again — aulos, lyre, pipe.
Breathing, fingers, breathing.
— No. That I always get up. The next time, I didn't dodge. As soon as Athena swung, I rushed at her. I was everywhere, like rain. Like A Golden Rain. Is it possible to strike the rain? Is it possible to stay dry? Since that time…
—She didn't hit you anymore? Yes, Grandfather?
— No. Since then, she has been hitting me with the sharp end of a spear. At first, holding back. Then — as it turns out. When my rain turned into a downpour, and later into a thunderstorm, the Crafty One came.
—Did he beat you with a staff?"
—I was the one who beat him. With a spear, a sword, a fist. I threw javeilins at him. And he disappeared at the last moment. And he laughed at me. Damn, how he could laugh! Every sound is like a pair of pincers tearing at your ass. One day I freaked out. I've forgotten who he is. And he threw a stone not at god, but at the target. A stone split his cheek. The wound immediately healed, and he laughed again. It was a completely different laugh. Remember, he said. Stop seeing the impact. Learn to see movement. Feel it, hear it, absorb it with your skin. Reject the very idea of a miss. Any thought goes to Tartarus! Strike like a father with lightning — without thinking. A year later, I fought both Athena and Crafty One at once.…
from some chapter little later
—Everyone must fight with their weapons,— Perseus intervened. — Spear, trident, water… Your own! You can't take a weapon that an enemy puts in your way. Fate give it to you? Refuse! Know which weapon is yours.…
—Oh, come on! — the grandson was indignant. — you need use any weapon!
—Whatever comes up, use it to strike!
—Give him the spear,— Perseus told the guard. —Now!
Amphitryon, perplexed, took the spear from the guy. It was heavy and too long for his height, and it weighed down his arms. The tip glittered dully, reflecting the disk of the full moon.
—Strike! — Grandfather barked. — Hit me!
The boy took the spear at the ready, point back. He pointed at Grandpa slowly, looking at Perseus with apprehension. The shaft stopped at the elbow of the Gorgon Killer's chest. Perseus did not move.
—Hey! Stop it! — the guard yelled. —Are you crazy?
When Amphitryon swung, the spear almost stuck the guy in the stomach. Grandfather laughed offensively. The audience backed away, just in case.
Is it possible to spear the rain?
Rain doesn't come drunk. Even if wine is gushing from the clouds.
The spear came alive. The tip of the tip was pushed forward. A predatory laurel leaf, forged from bronze, tossed in the twilight. He screamed with hunger. He was looking for a victim, forgetting who was the grandson, who was the grandfather. With each blow, the spear became heavier. Zeus' thunderbolt; Olympus, stretched into a string.
The spear flew at the grandfather. It's like throwing a stick to a laughing friend — with two hands, gripping it across. Weapons are thrown differently. Mechanically, amazed by the strangeness of the throw, Perseus grabbed the sudden gift — and his grandson, taking advantage of a moment of respite, took off running. With a run, he jumped on the big Triton — obeying not reason, but animal instinct, the Tyrrhenian put his palms up like a step, pushing Amphitryon forward and up onto the nearest column. Wrapping his legs around the "trunk", grabbing the carving of the capital, the boy climbed higher. A desperate tug, fingers clinging to the ledge of the ledge — and now he was on the roof of the temple. Running, on all fours, thundering with bare heels on slabs of marble, pitted by the weather, on terracotta tiles, further, on the other side…
—It's a shame! — The guard shouted cheerfully after them. — Shame on you!
—Idiot,— the Gorgon Slayer said, and the guy shut his mouth, not doubting at all who the idiot was. — My grandson has learned his lesson. Running is also a weapon. You chose it yourself, and the spear was offered to you. The one who screams: "Coward!" is a fool and tomorrow's dead man.
