Jason and the Argonauts (6 page)

they stepped the giant mast up in the mast bed

and pulled the forestays taut on either side

to hold it upright. Then they bent the sail on

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and draped it from the masthead. When a shrill

wind found and filled it, they were quick to fix

the sheets to polished bollards on the deck.

Finally idle and at ease, they skirted

the long headland of Tisae.

Orpheus meanwhile

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plucked his lyre and sang a lovely hymn

to honor Artemis, the Sailors' Savior,

the Potent Father's Daughter, since she guarded

the cliffs beside them and the coast of Iolcus.

Fish both big and small came leaping out of

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the sea to revel in the vessel's wake.

In just the way innumerable sheep,

after a satisfying meal at pasture,

tread the footsteps of their rustic guide

back to the paddock, and he leads by playing

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shepherd music on a bright-pitched pipe,

the shoal of fish accompanied the ship.

And still a stiff wind bore the heroes onward.

Pelasgia and its abounding wheat fields

vanished in mist and, as they coasted farther,

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they passed the rugged cliffs of Pelion,

and soon the spit of Sepae sank from view.

Sciathus rose out of the sea and then

more distant Peiresiae and, beyond it,

mainland again, the coastline of Magnesia,

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and Dolops' barrow under sunny skies.

That afternoon a stiff wind rose against them,

and they were forced to run the ship ashore.

Then, as they roasted joints of sheep at twilight

to honor Dolops, surges riled the sea.

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Two days and nights they idled on the beach

and on the third again launched
Argo,
spreading

her ample sail. That shore is known today

as
Argous Aphetai
(or “
Argo
's Launch”).

From there they sped along past Meliboea,

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marveling at the cliffs and storm-swept shore.

They spotted Homola at dawn, a city

slanted toward the sea, and sailed on past it.

A little farther, and they would have skirted

the mouth of the Amyrus. Next they spotted

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Eurymenae and the eroded gorges

of Ossa and Olympus. As they sped

that night before the panting of the wind,

they passed the Pallenean cliffs beyond

the headland of Canastra, and at dawn

they still were dashing onward.

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There was Athos,

the Thracian mountain, rising up before them.

The shadow from its utmost summit reaches

eastward to Myrina Promontory

on Lemnos—leagues a well-trimmed ship would need

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from dawn to noon to travel. All day long

a mighty wind was blowing, and the sail

rippling, but the gale expired at sunset.

So the heroes rowed to rugged Lemnos,

land of the venerable Sintians.

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Here, in the previous year, the womenfolk

had mercilessly slaughtered all the menfolk—

inhuman massacre! The men, you see,

had come to loathe and shun their lawful wives

and suffer a persistent lust instead

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for captive maidens they themselves had carried

home across the sea from raids in Thrace.

(This was the wrath of Cyprian Aphrodite

exacting vengeance on the men because,

for years, they had begrudged her any honors.)

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Stricken with an insatiable resentment

that would destroy their way of life, the women

cut down not only their own wedded husbands

and all the battle brides who slept with them

but every other male as well, the whole

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race of them, so that no one would survive

to make them pay for their atrocious slaughter.

Hypsipyle alone of all the women

thought to save her father—aged Thoas

who, as it chanced, was ruler at the time.

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She hid him in an empty chest and cast him

into the ocean, hoping he would live.

Fisherman caught him off an island called

Oenoa then but later on Sicinus

after the child Sicinus whom Oenoa

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(a water nymph) conceived from her affair

with Thoas.

Soon enough the women found

animal husbandry, the drills of war,

and labor in the wheat-producing fields

easier than the handcrafts of Athena

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to which they were accustomed. Often, though,

they scanned the level sea in grievous fear

that Thracian soldiers would descend upon them.

So, when they saw the
Argo
under oar

and heading toward their shore, they dressed in armor

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and like a mob of Maenad cannibals

dashed through Myrina Gate onto the beach.

They all assumed the Thracians were at hand.

Hypsipyle, the child of Thoas, joined them,

and she had donned the armor of her father.

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There they mustered, mute in their dismay,

so great a menace had been swept against them.

Meanwhile the heroes had dispatched ashore

Aethalides, the posthaste messenger,

whose work included overtures and parleys.

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He held the scepter of his father Hermes,

and Hermes had bestowed on him undying

memory of whatever he was told.

Although Aethalides has long since sunk

under the silent tide of Acheron,

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forgetfulness has never seized his spirit—

no, he is doomed to change homes endlessly,

now numbered with the ghosts beneath the earth,

now with the men who live and see the sun . . .

wait,
why have I digressed so widely, talking

about Aethalides?

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On this occasion

his overtures convinced Hypsipyle

to grant his comrades harbor for the night,

since it was getting on toward dusk. At dawn, though,

the heroes still had not unbound the hawsers

because a stiff north wind was blowing.

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Meanwhile,

the Lemnian women all throughout the city

had left their homes and gathered for assembly.

Hypsipyle herself had summoned them.

When they had found their places, she proposed:

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“Dear women, come now, let us give these men

sufficient gifts, the sorts of things that sailors

stow in the hold—provisions, honeyed wine—

so that they will remain outside our ramparts.

Otherwise, when they come to beg supplies,

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they will discover what we've done, and thus

a bad report of us will travel far and wide.

Yes, we have done a horrid, horrid thing,

and knowing it would hardly warm their hearts.

This is the plan before us. If some woman

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among you can propose a better one,

come, let her stand up and reveal it now—

that is the reason I convened this council.”

So Hypsipyle proclaimed, then settled

again upon her father's marble throne,

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and her beloved nurse Polyxo stood up,

using a cane to prop her palsied legs

and shriveled feet, since she was keen to speak.

Around her sat four women who, although

they still were maidens and had never married,

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were garlanded with heads of pure-white hair.

Steady at last and facing the assembly,

Polyxo strained to lift her neck just slightly

above her stooping shoulders and proposed:

“Let us by all means send the strangers presents,

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just as Hypsipyle has recommended.

It's best that way. But as for all of you,

what plan do
you
have to defend yourselves

if, say, a Thracian army or some other

enemy force invades? Out in the world

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such raids are common. Witness, for example,

this group that has arrived out of the blue.

Furthermore, even if some blessed god

should drive them off, a thousand other troubles

worse than war await you in the future.

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When all us older women pass away

and you, the younger ones, attain a childless

and cruel dotage, how will you get by?

Poor women. Will the oxen yoke themselves

as favors to you in the loamy fields?

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Will they pull the furrow-cleaving harrow

over the acres of their own volition?

And who will reap the grain when summer ends?

My case is different. Though the gods of death

thus far have shuddered at the sight of me,

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I'm certain that before the next year's out,

long, long before such troubles come about,

I will have drawn a gown of earth around me

and earned my share of reliquary honors.

Still, I entreat you girls to think ahead.

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Right now a perfect means of upkeep lies

before your feet. All you must do is hand

your houses, property, and dazzling city

over to the strangers to maintain.”

So she proposed. A murmur filled the assembly:

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her speech made sense. As soon as she was finished,

Hypsipyle stood up again and answered:

“If all of you approve of this proposal,

I shall be so immodest as to send

an envoy to their ship at once.”

So spoke she

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and told Iphinoa, who was at hand:

“Please go and ask the man that leads their party

(whichever he might be) to come and visit

my royal palace so that I may make him

a proposition that will warm his heart.

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Also, be sure to ask his comrades please

to come inside our land and city walls

without concern, provided they are friendly.”

Once she had sent the message, she dissolved

the council and departed toward the palace.

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Iphinoa sought out the Minyans,

and, when they asked why she had come, she greeted

her questioners at once with this announcement:

“Queen Hypsipyle the heir of Thoas

has sent me here to summon your commander

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(whichever he might be), so she can make him

a proposition that will warm his heart.

Also, she wishes to invite you others

to come inside our land and city walls

without concern, provided you are friendly.”

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So she announced, and all the men approved

of the auspicious overture. You see,

they all assumed Hypsipyle was queen

because she was the only child of Thoas

and he had passed on. So they sent her Jason

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and started getting ready for their visit.

Over either shoulder Jason pinned

a double-woven, vivid-purple mantle,

the handwork of Itonian Athena.

Pallas had given it to him when first

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she propped up trusses for the ship and taught

the men to measure out the beams by rule.

You could more comfortably stare upon

a sunrise than this mantle's rich resplendence.

The center was a fiery red, a violet

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border ran around it, and embroidered

illustrations, subtly stitched vignettes,

stood side by side along its top and bottom:

The Cyclopes were seated in it, plying

their endless trade. The stunning thunderbolt

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that they were forging for Imperial Zeus

was all but finished, all but one last tip.

Their iron mallets pounded at it, giving

shape to a blast of molten, raging fire.

Antiope's twin sons were featured, too,

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Zethus and Amphion, and Thebes was there,

unfortified as yet, but they were raising

the circuit walls. While Zethus seemed to stagger

under the mountain peak upon his back,

Amphion simply strolled along behind him

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and strummed his golden lyre, and a boulder

twice as gigantic followed in his footsteps.

Next appeared thickly braided Cytherea,

the shield of Ares in her hand. Her gown

had come unfastened, tumbled from her shoulder

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down to her forearm, and exposed a breast,

and in the shield's polished bronze a mirror

image admired her, a true reflection.

Next, there were cattle on a tufted grange,

and Taphian marauders, Teleboans,

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fighting the offspring of Electryon

to win the herd. The latter strove to fend off

the former, who were bent on taking plunder.

Dew dampened the enclosure, dew and blood,

and there were many brigands, few herdsmen.

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A race came next, a pair of chariots,

and Pelops flicked the reins and held the lead,

Hippodameia standing at his side.

Myrtilus whipped his horses in pursuit.

Beside him Oenomaus rode in state,

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his long spear pointed forward. But the axle

snapped in his hub just as he lunged to pierce

Pelops' back, and he went tumbling sideways.

Apollo was embroidered in it, too,