Jason and the Argonauts (17 page)

dread and revere the covenants of Zeus

the God of Guest and Host.”

So Jason spoke,

and all the heroes rushed to voice approval.

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No one proposed a different course, so Jason

bade Telamon, Augeas, and the sons

of Phrixus join him in his embassy

and took the staff of Hermes in his hand.

They wasted no time disembarking over

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the rushes where the upward sloping bank

afforded solid ground. This tract is known

as
Circe's Plain, and tamarisks and willows

grow there in rows, and corpses wrapped in cables

dangle earthward from the overstory.

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Down to this very day it is taboo

among the Colchians to cremate males

upon their death. Nor does their faith allow them

to lay the bodies in the earth and heap

barrows above them. Rather, they are shrouded

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in uncured hide and dangled from the treetops

outside the city. Still, the earth receives

as many corpses as the air because

their females' bodies are, in fact, interred.

Such are the equitable customs there.

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Hera helped the heroes travel safely

by casting thick mist down around the city

so that they would escape the notice of

the multitudinous throngs of Colchians.

Soon as the heroes passed out of the plain

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into the town and palace, Hera scattered

the cloud away. They stood there in the entry

marveling at the royal court—the wide

gateways, the columns standing, rank on rank,

along the walls, and, higher up, the bronze

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capitals holding up a marble cornice.

They softly crossed the threshold. All around them

high-climbing vines, prolific strands of leaves,

had broken into bloom. Beneath them bubbled

four ever-flowing springs for which Hephaestus

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himself had dug the channels. One was flowing

with milk, and one with wine, a third contained

a stream of fragrant oil, and the fourth

was limpid water that, they say, ran hot

after the setting of the Pleiades

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but at their rising jetted chill as crystal

out of the hollow rock. Such were the wonders

Hephaestus fashioned for Aeëtes' palace

at Cyta.

He had forged for him as well

bronze-footed bulls with brazen mouths that breathed

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shocking, abominable blasts of flame.

What's more, he made an indestructible plow

out of a single block of adamant

to pay a favor back to Helius

who had picked up Hephaestus in his war car

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when he was faint from waging war at Phlegra.

A central iron door was built there, too.

Beyond it many sturdy double doors

and living chambers ran in both directions.

Along each side a fine arcade extended,

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and crosswise to them in the wings loftier

apartments stood. In one of them, the highest,

Aeëtes slept beside his wife. Absyrtus,

his son, inhabited another of them.

Asterodeia, a Caucasian nymph,

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bore him before Aeëtes wed Eidyia,

Tethys' and Ocean's youngest daughter.

The Colchians, however, took to calling

Absyrtus “
Phaëthon” (the Shining One)

since he outshone the other boys his age.

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In other lower rooms, Aeëtes' daughters

Medea and Chalciope resided,

along with all their maids.

It was Medea

that Jason and his party met by chance

when they were wandering from room to room

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to find Chalciope. Hera had made

Medea stay at home that day on purpose.

The girl, you see, was rarely at the palace

but usually working all day long

as priestess at the shrine of Hecate.

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Soon as the maiden saw that men were coming,

she shrieked. Chalciope could not but hear it,

and when her handmaids dropped their wool and spindles

and rushed out all together in a crowd,

she went as well and, when she saw her sons,

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flung out her hands for joy. Her sons as well

flung out their hands for joy at seeing her

and hugged her warmly. Sobbing, she exclaimed:

“So, you were not, in fact, about to leave me

so thoughtlessly and travel far away.

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Fate has returned you. How distraught I was!

A wild and senseless lust to sail to Greece

had taken hold of you, a dire delusion,

all at your father Phrixus' behest.

His dying proclamation to you tortured

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my heart with netherworldly afflictions.

Why risk a voyage to the place they call

Orchomenus, whatever that might be,

to claim some King Athamas' estate?

Why leave me here to bear my grief alone?”

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So she lamented. Last of all, Aeëtes

emerged from his apartment with the queen,

Eidyia, when they heard Chalciope.

A bustle filled the court, the sounds of servants—

some of them readying a massive bull

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for slaughter, some with brazen axes splitting

wood for the fire, and others boiling water

for baths before the feast. Not one of them

was stinting in his service to the king.

And Eros was descending all the while,

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descending through the lustrous air, unseen

but as rambunctious as the
stinging fly

that oxherds call the “goad,” the kind that nettles

heifers. In an instant he was there,

bracing his back against the antechamber's

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doorpost. He deftly strung his little bow

and from the quiver chose a virgin arrow

laden with future groans. His speedy feet

whisked him across the threshold, he himself

unnoticed as he keenly scanned the scene.

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Then, crouching low beneath the son of Aeson,

he nocked the arrow midway up the string,

and, parting bow and string with both hands, shot

Medea.
Sudden muteness gripped her spirit.

The god, then, fluttered from the high-roofed hall,

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cackling, and the arrow burned like fire

deep, deep down beneath the maiden's heart.

She fired scintillating glances over

and over at the son of Aeson. Anguish

quickened her heart and panted in her breast,

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and she could think of him, him only, nothing

but him, as sweet affliction drained her soul.

As when a workwoman, a hireling drudge

whose livelihood is spinning yarn from wool,

piles kindling around a burning brand

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so that there might be light beneath the roof

at night, since she has woken very early,

and from that one small brand a fire spreads

marvelously and eats up all the twigs,

so all-consuming Eros curled around

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Medea's heart and blazed there secretly.

Her tender cheeks kept turning pale, then crimson,

pale, then crimson, in her mind's confusion.

After the slaves had laid the banquet out,

and all the guests had washed off their exhaustion

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in nice warm baths, they satisfied their hearts

with meat and drink. Soon, though, Aeëtes questioned

his daughter's sons, addressing them just so:

“Sons of my daughter, offspring of that Phrixus

I honored more than any other guest

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who lived at court, how has it come about

that you have made your way back to Aea?

Did some misfortune cut your voyage short?

No, no, you wouldn't listen when I warned you

about the endless distance of the journey.

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I saw the whole route once while flying in

my father Helius' chariot.

We were resettling
my sister Circe

way out west and flew a great long while

before we stopped at the Tyrrhenian coast

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where she is living to this day, far, far

from Colchis. But what joy is there in stories?

Come, tell me what misfortune spoiled your trip,

who are these men attending you, and where

you beached your hollow ship on disembarking.”

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So he demanded.
Argus answered first,

before his brothers, since he was the eldest

and most intent on aiding Jason's quest:

“Furious storms, Aeëtes, quickly splintered

our ship and, as we huddled on the wreckage,

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a roller rose out of the night and swept us

ashore upon the Isle of Enyalius.

Clearly some god was guarding us, because

we never ran into the birds of Ares,

the ones that used to make that rock their home.

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These men, you see, had scared the birds away

when they had disembarked the day before.

It must have been the will of Zeus, or Fate,

that pitied us and sent these men to save us.

As soon as they had heard the famous name

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of Phrixus (and your name as well), they gave us

clothes and provisions, more than we required.

You see, they had been sailing to your city.

If you would like to know their journey's purpose,

it's not a mystery:

A certain king

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passionately desired to drive this fellow

far from his homeland and estate because

he far surpassed all Aeolus' offspring

in battle prowess. So the king dispatched him

on an adventure, an impossible quest.

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This king maintains the heirs of Aeolus

will not escape the heart-confounding grudge

and punishment of unrelenting Zeus,

nor Phrixus' insufferable sentence

and curse on them, until the fleece at last

returns to Greece.

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Pallas Athena built

their ship, a ship unlike the vessels found

among the Colchians. I swear, we happened

to take the worst of these—the churning sea

and gale winds quickly battered it to pieces.

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Their tight-knit ship, however, holds together,

even though every gale at once should storm her.

She runs with equal speed both under sail

and when the oarsmen with persistent strokes

muscle her onward. Here's the man who gathered

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the mightiest warriors in Greece aboard her

and set out for your city. He has traveled

through many cities and unfathomed seas,

confident you will give the fleece to him.

Their quest will turn out just as you decide

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because this man has not arrived among us

with outrage in his hands, but eager, rather,

to offer fitting payment for the gift—

he heard from me about the Sauromatae,

your fiercest rivals, and would gladly force them

under your scepter.

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If you wish to know

their names and pedigrees, I shall be happy

to tell you them. This fellow here, the one

for whom the others gathered out of Hellas,

is known as Jason, son of Aeson, son

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of Cretheus. And if he is indeed

of Cretheus' stock, he would be kinsman

to us on our father's side because

Cretheus and Athamas both were sons

of Aeolus, and Phrixus was the son

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of Aeolid Athamas. Surely, king,

you've heard of Helius' son Augeas—

he's standing here—and this here's Telamon,

the son of famed Aeacus, son of Zeus.

Likewise the others traveling with them

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are all the sons or grandsons of immortals.”

So Argus sought to win Aeëtes over.

The king, however, when he heard this speech,

boiled with wrath. His heart shot up in anger.

He raged widely, but most against the sons of

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Chalciope, because he thought they'd guided

the strangers there on purpose. In his fury

his eyes were flashing underneath his brows:

“Get from my sight, you scoundrels, right this minute!

Pack up your tricks and get out of my land

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before someone starts ogling the fleece

and visits Phrixus in the Underworld!

I greatly doubt you fellows leagued together

and sailed from Hellas to retrieve the fleece—

no, you desire my realm and royal scepter.

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If you had not first tasted of my table,

rest assured, I would have cut your tongues out,

lopped your hands off and dispatched you homeward

wearing your feet alone, so that you never

come back a second time. What blasphemy

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you have pronounced against the blessed gods!”

Thus King Aeëtes raged and so incensed

Telamon's spirit that the latter burned

to utter deadly insults in reply.

Jason, however, cut him off by speaking

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gentle words before the curses flew:

“Aeëtes, I beseech you, please be lenient

toward this expedition. By no means

are we here visiting your court in Cyta