Back to Seriphos he sailed, and found that his mother walked in fear of Polydectes the king. She told her son--a strong man now, though young in years--the story of his cruel persecution. Perseus saw red blood, and gladly would he have driven his keen blade far home in the heart of Polydectes. But his vengeance was to be a great vengeance, and the vengeance was delayed. The king gave a feast, and on that day every one in the land brought offerings of their best and most costly to do him honour. Perseus alone came empty-handed, and as he stood in the king's court as though he were a beggar, the other youths mocked at him of whom they had ever been jealous. "Thou sayest that thy father is one of the gods!" they said. "Where is thy godlike gift, O Perseus!" And Polydectes, glad to humble the lad who was keeper of his mother's honour, echoed their foolish taunt. "Where is the gift of the gods that the noble son of the gods has brought me?" he asked, and his fat cheeks and loose mouth quivered with ugly merriment. Then Perseus, his head thrown back, gazed in the bold eyes of Polydectes. Son of Zeus he was indeed, as he looked with royal scorn at those whom he despised. "A godlike gift thou shalt have, in truth, O king," he said, and his voice rang out as a trumpet-call before the battle. "The gift of the gods shall be thine. The gods helping me, thou shalt have the head of Medusa." A laugh, half-born, died in the throats of Polydectes and of those who listened, and Perseus strode out of the palace, a glow in his heart, for he knew that Pallas Athené had lit the fire that burned in him now, and that though he should shed the last drop of his life's blood to win what he sought, right would triumph, and wrong must be worsted. Still quivering with anger, Perseus went down to the blue sea that gently whispered its secrets to the shore on which he stood. "If Pallas Athené would but come," he thought--"if only my dreams might come true." For, like many a boy before and since, Perseus had dreamed of gallant, fearless deeds. Like many a boy before and since, he had been the hero of a great adventure. So he prayed, "Come to me! I pray you, Pallas Athené, come! and let me dream true." His prayer was answered. Into the sky there came a little silver cloud that grew and grew, and ever it grew nearer, and then, as in his dream, Pallas Athené came to him and smiled on him as the sun smiles on the water in spring. Nor was she alone. Beside her stood Hermes of the winged shoes, and Perseus knelt before the two in worship. Then, very gently, Pallas Athené gave him counsel, and more than counsel she gave. In his hand she placed a polished shield, than which no mirror shone more brightly. "Do not look at Medusa herself; look only on her image here reflected--then strike home hard and swiftly. And when her head is severed, wrap it in the goatskin on which the shield hangs. So wilt thou return in safety and in honour."