Read Jason and the Argonauts Online
Authors: Apollonius of Rhodes
Still, I shall foster bitter wrath against you
no longer, grossly slandered though I was,
since it was not for wealth or flocks of sheep
that you succumbed to rage, but for a man,
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your comrade. No, no, I sincerely hope
that you would fight like that on my behalf,
should such a thing befall me in the future.”
After these words they both sat down together,
side by side and friendly as before.
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As for the two who had been left behind
(as Zeus himself intended), Polyphemus
son of Eilatus was indeed predestined
to found among the Mysians a city
named from the Cius River; Heracles
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was bound as well to heavy labor under
Eurystheus' thumb. Before he left, though,
he threatened to annihilate the Mysians
right then and there if they did not divulge
the fate of Hylas, whether he was dead
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or living. They selected and surrendered,
in pawn, the children of their noblemen
and promised they would never give up searching.
Still today the Cianian people
ask after Hylas son of Theodamas
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and recognize a bond with well-built Trachis,
the town where Heracles immured the boys
they gave as pledges to be led away.
All day, all night a stiff wind kept on blowing,
pushing the
Argo
onward, but by dawn
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nothing was stirring, not the slightest breeze.
They spotted on the coast a jutting headland
which, from the gulf, looked wide and welcoming
and, as the sun came up,
they rowed ashore.
BOOK
2
Haughty Amycus, the Bebrycian king,
kept farms and cattle paddocks near the shore.
Begotten by Poseidon Patriarch
on a Bithynian nymph named Melia,
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he was the most obnoxious man alive.
It was his savage custom to permit
no visitors to exit his dominions
until they met him in a boxing match,
and he had beaten many of his neighbors
to death.
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On this occasion King Amycus
came strutting straight up to the heroes' ship
and scornfully dispensed with asking them
who they might be and why they made the journey.
No, he just dropped a challenge on them all:
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“Listen to me, you seaborne derelicts,
and learn what you most certainly should know.
The law here stipulates no foreigner
that comes ashore upon Bebrycian land
may ever leave again until he holds up
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his fists against my fists and fights with me.
So quick, now, pick the strongest man among you
and let him step right up and face the challenge.
Be warned, though: if you spurn our laws, brute force
will grab you, and the outcome will be dire.”
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So snarled he, certain he was tough, and wild
resentment gripped the heroes at his words.
The challenge wounded
Polydeuces most,
and he leapt up to represent his comrades:
“Hold on. Whoever you presume to be,
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it's hardly necessary to insult us
with crass displays of force. We shall obey
your laws and customs. I myself am eager
to satisfy your challenge on the spot.”
Such was his blunt rejoinder, and Amycus
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swiveled his eyes and glared at Polydeuces,
just as a lion wounded by a spear
and hemmed around by men on every side
focuses solely on the one that first
struck him but failed to land a fatal blow.
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Tyndareus' son then laid aside
the lightweight cloak one of the girls of Lemnos
gave him as a parting gift. Amycus
undid, in turn, his doubly thick black mantle
clasp by clasp and threw his notched and knotted
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olive-wood crook of kingship to the ground.
As soon as
they had found a spot nearby
to function as a ring, they sat their rival
companies separately from one another
along the sand. The two contestants differed
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greatly in stature and physique: Amycus
looked like the monstrous spawn of grim Typhoeus
or even one of the abominations
Earth herself had brought up long ago
to challenge Zeus. Tyndareus' son,
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in contrast, shimmered
like the star of heaven
that shoots its brightest beams against the darkness
at evening time. Yes, he was Zeus' sonâ
a soft down sprouting on his cheeks, his eyes
aglint with joy, he gloried like a beast
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in godlike strength. Whereas he shadowboxed
to prove his fists were sportive as before
and not benumbed by handling an oar,
Amycus scorned such exercise. He simply
stood there in silence, glaring at his foe,
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heart pounding with the urge to shatter ribs
and spatter blood.
Amycus' assistant
Lycoreus set down before their feet
two pairs of tanned and toughened rawhide straps.
Haughtily, then, the king addressed his rival:
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“No need to bother drawing lots. Go on
and pick whichever set of straps you likeâ
that way you cannot say I tricked you later.
Go on, now, wrap them round your hands and then
learn well and tell all other men how skilled
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I am at toughening and cutting ox hide
and spattering the cheeks of men with blood.”
So spoke the braggart king. But Polydeuces
did not respond in kind, no, he just smiled
and chose the straps that lay before his feet.
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Castor and Talaus the son of Bias
jogged in and tied the straps on, all the while
pumping him up with fervor for the match.
Aretus and Ornytus did the same
for King Amycus, nor did they suspect,
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poor fools, his highness was a doomed man facing
his final match.
Soon as the straps were wrapped
around their hands, they squared off toe-to-toe,
hefted their huge fists up before their faces,
and charged in, bringing all their weight to bear
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each on the other.
On a choppy sea
a violent wave will rear above a ship,
then, just as it is poised to swamp the deck,
the helmsman's skill will save her by a hairsbreadth,
and off she glides unscathed. Just so Amycus
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pounded and pounded and allowed no respite,
while Polydeuces with superior skill
baffled the onslaught and remained uninjured.
Once he had learned the strengths and weaknesses
of his opponent's brutish fighting style,
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he stood his ground and gave him blow for blow.
Imagine shipwrights' hammers, how they pound
tapering dowels into sturdy planksâ
the thumping sounds incessantlyâthat's how
the cheeks and chins of both opponents sounded.
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Teeth shattering with constant horrid cracks,
the men did not stop pummeling each other
until sheer lack of breath had overcome them.
They drew apart a spell and, panting, woozy,
wiped streams of perspiration from their brows.
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Soon, though, they charged again, like bulls in heat
fighting to win a pasture-fattened heifer.
Amycus stretched his torso, stood on tiptoe
like a butcher poised to slay an ox,
then brought the weighty bottom of his fist
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hammering down. But Polydeuces tilted
his head in time and dodged the brunt of it.
The heavy blow went glancing off his shoulder.
Then Polydeuces leaned in closer, locked
his leg behind his foe's, and with a swift heave
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haymakered him above the ear. The skull
cracked, and Amycus crumpled to his knees
in agony. The Minyan heroes cheered
when life came spurting from the big man's head.
Far from abandoning their king, however,
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his loyal soldiers took up gnarled clubs
and hunting spears and charged at Polydeuces
in one mad rush. The heroes interlocked
their shields before him and unsheathed their swords.
Castor was first to strike. A man ran up,
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and Castor axed him in the head, the head
split down the middle, and the halves flopped over
onto his shoulders. Straight out of his triumph
Polydeuces felled Itymoneus
and Mimas: with a flying leap he struck
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the one beneath the chest and knocked him flat;
then, when the other made a rush, he struck
his left eye with his right hand, tore away
the eyelid, and the eyeball stood there naked.
Amycus' hotheaded squire Oreides
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wounded Talaus the son of Bias
but missed the kill, because his brazen spear tip
merely grazed the skin beneath the belt
and wholly missed the vitals. Then Aretus
leveled his weather-hardened club and thumped
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Iphitus, rugged scion of Eurytus.
But Iphitus was not yet doomed to die,
and soon enough Aretus was himself
cut down by Clytius' sword. Ancaeus,
the dauntless son of King Lycurgus, took up
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a massive ax and, with his left arm swinging
a shield of black-bear hide before him, leapt
fiercely into the fray. When Telamon
and Peleus, offspring of Aeacus, rushed in
behind him, warlike Jason joined their charge.
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Imagine how, upon a winter's day,
gray wolves will suddenly descend, unmarked
by herdsmen and precision-sniffing hounds,
to terrorize a flock of countless sheepâ
how, as the wolves glare back and forth deciding
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which one to pounce on first and carry off,
the sheep stand clumped together, tripping over
each otherâthat's the way the heroes sent
grim panic through the proud Bebrycians.
And as when beekeepers or herdsmen smoke
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a giant hive concealed in a rock,
the bees at first are crowded and confused,
abuzz with rage, and then the sooty coils
of vapor suffocate them, and they all
dart from the rock and scatter far and wide,
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so the Bebrycians did not hold firm
for long, but fled in all directions, bearing
news of Amycus' demise. The fools
had not yet realized another crushing
disaster was at hand. That very day,
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now that their king was dead, the hostile spears
of Lycus and his Mariandynians
were pillaging their villages and vineyards
(the two were rival peoples, always feuding
over a territory rich in iron).
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So the heroes raided all the stalls
and rounded up vast flocks and, as they did it,
this was how they were talking to each other:
“Just think of how those cowards would have fallen
if Zeus had somehow left us Heracles.
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I am quite sure that, had he been at hand,
the boxing match would not have taken place.
No, when Amycus swaggered up to us
to bray his laws, a thumping would have made him
forget his pride and all his proclamations.
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We did a thoughtless thing indeed by leaving
that man behind and heading out to sea.
Each one of us will come to know death ruin
intimately, now that he is gone.”
That's how they talked, but Zeus, of course, had brought
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the loss of Heracles to pass on purpose.
The heroes spent the night there, bound the wounded,
and, after making sacrifice, prepared
a mighty banquet. After dinner, though,
slumber was far from holding sway beside
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the wine bowl and the blazing sacrifices.
Once they had crowned their golden hair with laurel
that grew along the same shore where the cables
were bound, the heroes
sang a victory ode
in harmony with Orpheus' lyre,
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and the unruffled shore enjoyed their singing,
since they were celebrating Polydeuces,
the boy whom Zeus had fathered in Therapna.
But when the sun came over the horizon,
lit the dewy hills and roused the shepherds,
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the heroes lugged aboard the spoils that seemed
most useful, loosed the cables from the laurel,
and coasted with a friendly wind behind them
into the roiling Bosporus.
There wave
on wave, like heaven-climbing mountains reaching
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above the clouds, shoot up before a ship's prow,
hover a while and then come crashing down.
One would assume no vessel could endure
so dire a doom suspended like a savage
storm cloud above the mainmast. But these threats
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are navigable to a hardy helmsman.
So, guided by the skillful hands of Tiphys,
they coasted onward, frightened but alive,
and lashed their cables on the following day
to Thynia on the opposing coast.
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Phineus the son of Agenor
was living in a house there near the shore,
suffering more than any man alive
because of the prophetic skill Apollo
had granted him some years before. You see,
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he never paid due reverence to the gods,
not even Zeus himself, since he divulged
their sacred will too thoroughly to mortals.
Zeus smote him, therefore, with a long old age
and plucked the honeyed sunlight from his eyes.
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Still worse, he never could enjoy the lavish
banquets the locals heaped up in his house
when they arrived to ask their fortunes.
Harpies
would always swoop down with rapacious maw
and snatch the food out of his hands and lips.
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Sometimes they left behind no food at all
and sometimes just a morsel, so that he
might go on living in despair. Still worse,
they left a foul stench on the leftovers,
and no one dared to lift them to his mouth
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or even stand nearby, because they reeked
so hideously.
As soon as Phineus
discerned the heroes' footsteps and halloos,
he knew what men had comeâthose at whose coming
the oracle of Zeus had prophesied
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he would again be able to enjoy
comfortable meals. He struggled out of bed
like an ethereal dream and then, propped on
a walking stick, tapped over to the door
by fingering his way along the walls.
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His joints were trembling with age and weakness
as he divined the exit. Scabrous skin
coated in dirt was all that held his bones