Jason and the Argonauts (28 page)

that they were toasting their own sons' return.

The heroes felt as happy meeting them

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as if they had regained Haemonia.

Soon, though, they drew their swords and raised the
war cry—

in ranks before them stood a countless host

of Colchians who had passed the Pontic mouth

and Clashing Rocks to apprehend the heroes.

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They swore that they would either seize the girl

immediately or raise the battle cry

and fight to win their claim both then and there

and in the future once their king arrived.

But King Alcinoös restrained their zeal

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to start a battle. He preferred to settle

the troublesome dispute without both sides

embracing war. All in a killing fear,

the maiden pleaded time and time again

with Jason and his men and grasped the knees

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of King
Alcinoös' wife Arete:

“Queen, I beseech you, please have pity on me.

Do not surrender me unto the Colchians

to carry to my father. Please do not

be one among the race of humankind

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whose minds by minor errors tumble rashly

into disaster—so my mind went tumbling . . .

but no, no, it was not because of lust.

Let Helius' sacrosanct resplendence

and the unspoken rites of Perses' daughter,

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the Nighttime Walker, vouch for the duress

under which I eloped with all these men.

Fear, it was dreadful fear that made me think

of running off when I had gone astray.

No way around elopement could be found.

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My virgin belt remains as innocent

and undefiled as in my father's palace.

Pity me, lady, and convince your husband.

So may the gods bestow on you
a perfect

life, and renown, and children, and the glory

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of an eternally unconquered city.”

So with a flood of tears she begged Arete

and then approached, in turn, her friends the heroes:

“Because of you, O mightiest men of all,

because of your affairs, I now am sunk

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in desperation. It was with my help

you yoked the bulls and reaped the fatal crop

of earthborn soldiers. Thanks to me, you shortly

will sail away to bring the golden fleece

back to Haemonia. And here I am,

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bereft of country, parents, home, and all

life's pleasures, while I have restored to you

your homes and homeland, and your honeyed eyes

will gaze again upon your parents. No,

some grievous god has ripped those pleasures from me,

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and I am wandering the sea with strangers,

a derelict. Beware your oaths and vows;

beware the Fury who avenges suppliants;

beware the gods' resentment when I tumble

into Aeëtes' hands and perish piecemeal

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under unending agony and torture.

There stand before me in defense no temples,

no guardian towers, no battlements, but you,

just you alone, men ruthless in their coldness,

wretches who suffer not a hint of shame

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on seeing me, a helpless little girl,

embrace the knees of an exotic queen.

When you were burning to acquire the fleece,

you would have rushed to join your spears in battle

against the Colchians and proud Aeëtes.

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Now you forget your courage, though these men

are all alone and far from reinforcements.”

So she exclaimed and begged, and every man

she supplicated tried to hearten her

and soothe her misery. They drew their swords,

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brandished their sharply whetted spears, and swore

that they would not hold back from saving her

if she should meet with an unlucky judgment.

Night, though, the rest from labors, soon subdued

the weary men and stilled the whole wide world.

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Slumber, however, never reached the girl,

but anguish churned her heart, as when
a poor,

hardworking woman twirls and twirls her spindle

all night long, and all around her wail

the children orphaned since her husband died,

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and tears drip down her cheeks as she considers

the miserable lot she has been given.

Like hers, Medea's cheeks were wet with weeping

and her heart kept spinning, spinning, spun

by agonizing pangs.

Back in the city

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Alcinoös and his respected wife

Arete lay in bed within the palace,

talking about the maiden late at night.

As women do when managing their husbands,

she addressed him intimately:

“Darling,

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please do something for me. Please preserve

this girl of many worries from the Colchians

and do, thereby, the Minyans a favor.

Argos and the people of Haemonia

live closer to our island, and Aeëtes

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does not at all live near. In fact, we know

nothing of this Aeëtes, only hearsay.

The maiden, though, has undergone harsh trials;

her pleas have split my heart in two. Therefore,

do not, my lord, release her to the Colchians

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to drag away back to her father's palace.

Yes, she was mad with folly when she gave

Jason the magic drug to beat the oxen.

Yes, she fled her ruthless father's wrath,

trying to cure one error with another,

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as people often do with a mistake.

Still, I have heard that Jason since that time

has taken mighty oaths to marry her

in proper legal fashion at his palace.

My love, do not then stubbornly compel

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Jason to break his oath, nor let the father

inflict unending torture on his daughter,

if you can stop it. Parents can oppress

their children overmuch. Consider what

Nycteus did to fair
Antiope

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and what afflictions
Danaë endured

at sea through her own father's wickedness.

In fact, not long ago or far away,

that wicked king
Echetus jabbed bronze brooches

into his daughter's eyeballs. Now she labors

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under a grievous fate, forever grinding

grains of bronze in an unlighted dungeon.”

So she pleaded, and the king's heart softened

under his wife's persuasion. He replied:

“Arete, I could have my soldiers scatter

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the Colchians as a favor to the heroes,

and all for that girl's sake, but I am loath

to disrespect the stringent laws of Zeus.

Nor is it wise to disregard Aeëtes,

as you propose. No one alive is more

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kingly than King Aeëtes. If he wanted,

he could bring
war down on Hellas, even

from far away. Therefore, I must deliver

a judgment that will seem disinterested

in all men's eyes. But I will not conceal it

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from you: I shall command the Colchians

to bring the girl back home if she is still

a virgin. But if she is not a virgin,

I shall not divide her from her husband

nor shall I yield unto her enemies

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the child she may be bearing in her womb.”

So he disclosed and went to sleep at once.

His wife, though, stored his wisdom in her heart,

rose from her bed, and hurried through the palace,

and all her serving ladies rushed together

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to wait on her. She whispered for a herald

and sent a message, prudently advising

the son of Aeson to deflower the girl

and not risk pleading with Alcinoös.

And she revealed her husband would deliver

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the following judgment to the Colchians:

that
, If Medea has remained a virgin,

he will dispatch her to her father's home;

but if she has been sleeping with a husband,

he will not divide connubial love.

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So she reported, and the herald's feet

whisked him out of the palace to deliver

Arete's favorable news to Jason,

along with good Alcinoös' verdict.

The messenger directly found the heroes

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sitting under arms and keeping watch

beside the city in the port of Hyllus.

He told them everything, and his report

so pleased them that their spirits grew ecstatic.

Frantically, then, they mixed wine in a bowl

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to offer the immortals, as is proper,

and duly dragged sheep to the sacred altar.

Yes, that very night they made the maiden

a bridal bed within the sacred cave

where Macris once had lived.

She was the daughter

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of Aristeaus, lord of honey. He

it was who first invented apiculture

and olive pressing, after much hard work.

Off in Abantian Euboea, Macris,

his daughter, was the first nursemaid to hold

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Zeus' Nysaean son up to her bosom.

She also wet his holy lips with honey

once Hermes had retrieved him from the flames.

Hera had seen her, though, and out of spite

exiled her from the island. Macris, then,

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went off and settled in this sacred cave

and gave the Phaeacians great abundance.

They laid a mighty mattress in the cave

and spread the
glinting golden fleece upon it

so that the wedding would be more distinctive

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and memorable in song. The nymphs collected

colorful flowers and brought them in protruding

from their resplendent bosoms. Over them

a glimmer as of fire was flickering,

so scintillating was the light that issued

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out of the golden wool. It sparked sweet yearning

in all their eyes, but modesty restrained

each of the nymphs, in spite of her desire,

from reaching out and fondling the fleece.

The nymphs had come from various places: some were

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daughters of the Aegaeus River, others

were dwellers on the peak of Melita,

and others wood nymphs from the tablelands.

Hera herself, the wedded wife of Zeus,

had summoned them to pay respects to Jason,

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and to this day the grotto where the nymphs

laid out the sweetly fragrant sheets and married

Jason and Medea bears the name

Medea's Cave.

Meanwhile the heroes took

their spears in hand in case some gang of foemen

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dashed upon them unforeseen. They also

garlanded their heads with leafy sprigs

and to the thrum of Orpheus' lyre

melodiously
sang the wedding hymn

outside the entrance to the bridal chamber.

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Alcinoös' realm
was not the place

where Jason son of Aeson had desired

to consummate the marriage, no, he rather

had hoped to do it in his father's palace

once he returned. The girl had hoped so, too.

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Necessity, however, had compelled them

to make love then and there.

The truth is,
we

the members of the woe-struck tribes of mortals

never tread the pathways to delight

with confidence. Some bitter anguish always

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shambles along beside our happiness.

Thus, after Jason and Medea's souls

dissolved in sweet lovemaking, terror gripped them:

Would King Alcinoös, in fact, deliver

the verdict Queen Arete had described?

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Dawn had returned, and her ambrosial beams

scattered the dusky darkness from the sky.

The island beaches laughed, the dew-drenched pathways

laughed as they ran in from the distant plains,

and there was movement in the streets, the townsfolk

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were stirring, and the Colchians were stirring

out on the farthest spit of Macris Island.

Alcinoös, in keeping with his promise,

went out to them at once to speak his mind

about Medea. In his hand he held

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a golden staff, the staff of law, with which

he rendered rightful judgments to the people

throughout the city. Phaeacian nobles

marched behind him in their battle armor,

and women swarmed out of the city gate

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to see the heroes. Country folk as well

came in to hear Alcinoös because

Hera had made sure news was sent abroad.

One of them picked the best ram in his flock

and drove him there; another led a heifer

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that had not yet been broken to the yoke;

still others set up mixing bowls for wine,

and the aroma wafted far and wide.

Women presented garments they had woven,

as women will, along with gifts of gold

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and every sort of splendor customary

for newlyweds. They stood awhile admiring

the builds and faces of the famous heroes

and there among them Orpheus, tapping out

a merry tempo with a purple sandal