Jason and Medeia (36 page)

and Aietes' daughter stood face to face, without a word, like oaks or pines that stand in the mountains side by

side

in the hush when no breeze stirs.

“Then Jason, observing the pallor

on Medeia's face and the quickness of her breath,

reached out to take

her hand—white fire shot through her—and said: “My

lady, I'm alone.

Why this terror? I was never profligate, here or at home in my own country. Take my word, no need to be on guard against me, but ask or tell me what you wish.

We've come

as friends, you and I, and come to a consecrated spot

which must not

be mocked. Speak to me: ask what you will. And since

you've promised

already to give me the charm I need, don't put me off, I beg you, with timorous speeches. I plead by Hekate

herself,

by your parents and Zeus, whose hand protects all

suppliants.

Grant me your aid, and in days to come I'll reward you

richly,

singing your praises through the world till your name is

immortalized.

Remember Ariadne, who befriended Theseus. She was a

darling of the gods

and her emblem is burning in the sky: all night

Ariadne's Crown

rolls through the constellations. You, too, will be

thanked by the gods

if you save me and all my friends. Indeed, your

loveliness

seems outer proof of extraordinary beauty within.'

“So he spoke,

honoring her, and she lowered her gaze with a smile

embarrassed

and sweet. Then, uplifted by Jason's praise, she looked

him in the face.

Yet how to begin she did not know. She longed to tell

the man everything at once.

But she drew the charm from her clove-scented cincture and dropped it in his hand. He received it with joy.

The princess revelled

in his need of her, and she would have poured out all

her soul to him,

so captivating was the light of love that filled his

gleaming

eyes. Her heart was warmed, made sweeter than the

dew on roses

in dawn's first light.

“At one moment both were staring at the ground

in deep embarrassment; the next they were smiling,

glancing at each other

with shy love. At last Medeia forced out speech: listen. When you have met my father and he's given

you

the serpent's teeth, wait for the moment of midnight.

Then bathe

in a swift-running river. Afterward, go out in a robe

of black

and dig a round pit. There kill a ewe and sacrifice it

whole,

with libations of honey from the hive and prayers to

Hekate.

After that, withdraw. And do not be tempted to glance

behind you,

neither by footfalls and the baying of hounds nor by

anything else,

or you'll never return alive. In the morning, melt this

charm

and rub it all over your body like oil. It will charge you

with strength

and confidence to make you a match for the gods

themselves. Then sprinkle

your spear and shield and sword as well. Then neither

the weapons

of the earthborn men nor the flames of the bulls can

touch you. But you'll not

be immune for long—for one day only. Nevertheless, don't flinch, ever, from the encounter. And something

more: When you

have yoked the bulls and ploughed the fallow (with

those great hands

and that great strength, it won't take you long), and

the earthborn men

are springing up, watch till you see a good number of

them

rising from the loam, then throw a great boulder among

them and wait.

They'll fall on it like famished wolves and kill one

another.

That's your moment. Plunge in!

“ ‘And so you'll be done, and can carry

the fleece to Hellas—a long, long way from Aia, I

believe.

But go, nonetheless. Go where you will, go where your

fancy

pleases, after you part from us.' She fell silent, staring at the ground, and hot tears ran down her cheeks as

she saw him sailing

home. She looked at him and sorrowfully spoke. ‘If ever

you reach

your home, don't forget what I have done for you.

As for myself, I'll never forget you.' Medeia paused, then timidly asked: Tell me about that girl you

mentioned—

the one who gave help to some hero and later grew

famous for it.'

Jason studied her, puzzled by her blush, and then,

suddenly,

he understood, and was touched by Medeia's concern

for reputation,

her willingness to help him despite her fears. Gently

he said:

‘Ariadne, yes. Without her assistance, Theseus could

never

have overcome the minotaur and made his way back through the Labyrinth. He bore Ariadne away with him when he'd met his test, and no other man ever praised

the name

of a woman as he did hers. I can only hope that, as her father Minos was reconciled at last with Theseus for his daughter's sake, your father will at last be

reconciled with us.'

“He had thought, poor Jason, that talking to the girl

in this gentle way

would soothe her. But instead his words filled Medeia

with gloomy forebodings,

and bitterness as well. White flecks appeared in her

blushing face

and she answered with passion: ‘No doubt in Hellas

men think it right

to honor commitments. My father is hardly the kind

of man

this Minos was, if your story's true. And as for Ariadne, I cannot claim to be a match for her. Speak to me no

more

of kindness to strangers. But oh, do remember when

you're back in Iolkos;

and I, despite my parents, will remember you. The day you forget me and speak of me no more, that day may

a whisper come

from afar to me, some parra to tell of it; may the wild

North Wind

snatch me and carry me across the dark sea to Iolkos,

and I

denounce you, force you to remember that I saved your

life. Expect me!

I'll come that day if I can!' Bright tears ran down her

cheeks.

“Jason spoke quickly, smiling. ‘Dear lady, you may

spare the wandering

winds that task, and spare the bird that arduous flight! Rest well assured, if you come to us you'll be honored

and revered

by everyone there—men, women, children. They'll treat

you like a goddess,

since thanks to you their sons and brothers and fathers

came home.

And I, I'll build you a bridal bed, and a house we can

share

till death. Let that be settled between us.'

“As she heard his words

the girl's heart leaped. And yet she shuddered at the

things she must do

to earn the stranger's love. Her maids, who'd been

watching from afar,

grew restive now, though they dared not intervene. It

was

high time for flight; but Medeia had as yet no thought

of leaving,

entranced by Jason's beauty and bewitching talk. As

for him,

whatever his passion, he'd by no means lost his wits.

He said:

‘We must part, Medeia, before we're seen by some

passer-by.

We'll meet again. Have faith.' And touching her hand,

he retreated

and was gone. Her maids ran forward. She scarcely

noticed them.

Her mind benumbed, she got in the charriot to drive

the mules,

taking the reins in one hand, the whip in the other,

and blindly,

home she drove to the palace. As soon as her feet

touched earth

Khalkiope came, pale as marble, to ask what chance

for her sons.

Medeia said nothing, heard not a word she spoke. In

her room

she sank to the crimson hassock at the foot of her bed,

leaned over

and rested her cheek on her left hand, tearfully

pondering

the incredible thing she'd done. But whether she wept

for joy

or fear, she could not tell.

“That night, in a lonely place

under open sky, Lord Jason bathed in the sacred river, drew on his coal-black cape, his famous panther skin, and dug a pit one cubit deep, and piled up billets, and spread a slain ewe on the wood. He kindled the fire

from below,

poured out libations, called on Hekate, and withdrew.

The goddess

heard, from the abyss, and rose. Her form was

surrounded by snakes

that slid like spokes from a hub and coiled round

the silent oaks

until every twig seemed alive, their serpent eyes like the

gleam

of a thousand flickering torches. And the hounds of the

Underworld

leaped up, dark shapes all around her, and filled the

night with their howls

till the stones in the earth were afraid and the far hills

trembled. Then came

more fearsome things—a cry like a girl's, Medeia's,

grim joke

of Hades, eternally bored. Then the heart of the

Argonaut quaked,

for he knew the cry, and his whole dark body burst out

in a sweat

and he paused, but only for an instant, then stubbornly

Jason walked on,

and his eyes did not look back. He came to his friends

again.

“At dawn old black-eyed Aietes put over his breast the

cuirass

the god of war had given him. On his head he set his golden helmet with its four plates, gift of the sun. He took up his shield of many hides and his

unconquerable spear,

and mounted the well-built battle-car that he'd won

from Phaiton.

The Lord of the Bulls took the reins and drove to the

contest grounds,

a crowd of Kolchians behind him, hurrying on foot, in

silence,

no man daring to challenge Aietes' eye. There soon came Jason, on his head a helmet of glittering bronze

full of teeth

like nails, on his shoulder a sword. His body was naked

and shone

like Apollo's eyes. Aietes was troubled, but waited.

“Then Jason,

glancing around, saw the great bronze yoke for the

bulls, and beside it

the plough of indurated steel, built all of one piece. He

went up to them,

planted his sword in the ground by the hilt, and laid

down the helmet,

leaning it next to the sword. Then stirred to examine

the tracks

the bulls had made, and mused, half-smiled at Aietes.

And now

from the bowels of the earth, the fuliginous lair where

the huge bulls slept,

up they came, breathing fire. Their great necks rippled,

as thick

as cliffs, as poised as the arching necks of dragons.

They lowered

their heads, eyes rolling, swung up their muscular tails

like flags,

and gouged up divots of earth with their knife-sharp

brazen hooves.

First one, then the other, the monsters lolled their

weight forward,

gathering now for the charge. The Argonauts trembled,

watching.

But Jason planted his feet far apart and waited, as firm as a reef in the sea when it takes on the billows in a

gale. He held

his shield in front of him. The bulls, bellowing loudly,

came at him.

They struck. He shifted not an inch. They snorted,

spewed from their mouths

devouring flame. He was not devoured. Their heat came

down

like lightning shocks, like waves of lava. But Jason held. Seizing the right-hand bull by the tip of its horn he

dragged it

slowly toward the yoke, then brought it to its knees

with a kick

and, casting his shield aside, he yoked it. And so with

the second.

Aietes frowned and mused.

“Then Jason ploughed, his shield

on his back, his helmet on his head, his sword in his

hands like a goad,

pricking the great beasts forward. The earth turned

black at their fire,

but the furrows turned, the fallow lay broken behind

them.He sowed

the teeth, cast them far from himself, taking many a

backward glance

to be sure no earthborn demon should catch him

unawares. And the bulls,

thrusting their sharp bronze hooves into earth, tolled

on till the day

was two-thirds spent. The work of the ploughman was

done, the wide field

ploughed. He freed the bulls, shooed them off. They

fled across the plain,

bellowing, tossing their heads, still huffing fire. He

quenched

the fire in his throat at the bordering river, then waited

with his spear.

And now—it was dusk—the earthborn men came

sprouting like barley.

The black earth bristled with bucklers, double-headed

spears, and helmets

whose splendor flashed to Olympos. They shone like a

night full of stars

when snow lies deep and wind has swept off the clouds.

But Jason

remembered the counsel of Medeia of the many wiles:

picked up

a boulder from the field—a rock four men would have

strained to budge—

and staggering forward with the rock in both arms,

he bowled it toward them,

and at once crouched behind his shield, unseen, full

of confidence.

The Kolchians gave a tremendous shout, and Aietes