Medea (32 page)

I almost did not recognise her, she was so full of joy. She was shining. She had Melanion in her arms and the others sitting at her feet, and I could feel her joy from a distance, as I had felt the baker's ovens. She was laughing - I had seldom heard Chalkiope laugh - and weeping, and I had seldom seen her weep.

'Oh, my dears, oh, my loves, my darlings,' she was saying. 'How could you have left me, and oh, the salt sea and the cave, my little Melanion!' Melanion, looking exquisitely embarrassed, embraced his mother and kissed her cheek.

'Oh, Medea, look,' she cried to me, 'I have my children again. The king has relented and the sea has loosed her grip on them. No woman was as fortunate as I,' and she laughed again.

'I rejoice with you,' I told her, sitting on her chair. The sons of Phrixos were tall men and they over-filled the small room. 'They have brought some Achaeans with them. Who are they?'

'Trioda sent you to find out, doubtless,' she commented.

'No, I came on my own. I am a priestess now, sister.'

'So you are, little Medea, and shalt be answered,' said my sister dotingly. 'Cytisoros, talk to your aunt. Melanion, tell me again how you survived the wreck.'

While Melanion spoke about the dreadful strength of the sea and how they had clung to the keel, Cytisoros said to me, 'They are the crew of a ship called
Argo
, which means swift.'

This was something I knew, but I kept silent. If one interrupted Cytisoros he took ages to get back to the subject.

'They have come on quest, from the Aegean to the Propontis to the Bosporus and through the Clashing Rocks - they actually braved Scylla and Carybdid, sister Medea! - to the Euxine Sea, to retrieve the bones of my father, Phrixos.'

'Why do they want the bones of a dead man?' I asked. Achaean customs were obviously strange, though probably not stranger than Scythian.

'Because he's haunting them, saying that he needs to be buried in the earth of his home in Iolkos in Achaea.'

'Buried? A
man
, buried in the womb of the Mother? They're inviting a plague,' I objected. Cytisoros shrugged. 'And they have a request for Aetes,' he added mysteriously, 'of which I may not yet speak.'

I did not enquire further - another thing about the eldest son of Phrixos was his complete integrity. It would have been of no use to attempt to tease the secret from Cytisoros. He would tell me when he could. I asked, 'What do you make of them, these Achaeans?'

'They are brave and skilled at sea,' he replied. 'They travelled for a while with Herakles, they say. I thought that he was a story, not a real man.'

'He's certainly a real man,' I said, warming to the Argonauts. 'I met him when he saved the Sauromatae from massacre by the Androphagi. He was gravely wounded, but he recovered.'

'Your skill is well known,' said Cytisoros politely.

'No, it wasn't really my skill, he heals like a beast and he's stronger than any patient I ever had before. And if he is not in battle-fury, he's gentle and kind. These must be the royal children of Iolkos, then. He told me about them.'

'Yes, Jason is the son of Aison, the rightful king.'

'Tell me of this Jason,' I said, trying to suppress my eagerness. I did not know why the sound of that name was sweet in my ear, but it was.

'He is the leader of a group of heroes who have passed unimaginable perils to get here,' interrupted Argeos eagerly. 'Their ship is in the reeds at Poti with the rest of the crew. Telamon is a mighty man, but there are two others his match on board: Ancaeas and Oileus.'

My interest in strong men was minimal, and I left the sons of Phrixos with their mother as I was called into the courtyard by an urgent voice.

'Lady,' said a boy, plucking at my sleeve.

'Achaean?' I replied.

'You make a lotion, they say, which can repel the mosquitoes. The crew of
Argo
lie in their ship in the reeds, and they are unused to Colchian insects. Can you make some of your lotion to relieve the sufferings of my shipmates?'

'Certainly. I shall go and do so. I have forgotten your name, though, Lord,' I said.

'I am Nauplios, the net-caster's son, lady Medea. I deserve no honorific.'

I liked his modesty. He was good-looking, though much bitten, and he had a shy and charming smile. I gathered up my robes and tiptoed towards the gate through the chaos of shouting bakers and cursing cooks and over-anxious bath-slaves, and stopped in my tracks as though Hekate had struck me dead.

Standing naked before me was the Achaean, Jason, and he was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. Slaves were sluicing hot water over his shoulders, to clean off the grime before he was conducted into the bathing-chamber to soak in a bath of sweet herbs. There was no reason why he should not stand naked in the king's courtyard - after all, he was a guest, and slaves have no modesty to outrage. He could not have known that a maiden priestess of the Dark Mother would be there to be transfixed by his beauty.

He was like a statue. I let my gaze slide over his wide shoulders, his flat belly, the scribble of hair at his loins, catching the late sunlight and winking golden. I saw that part which a common maiden must never name - the phallus, site of manhood and holder of seed. I saw the neat square buttocks as he twisted, laughing, under the deluge of water and soapy herbs. I saw the ordered propriety of muscle which was his back. And I saw his face, eyes shut, blissful, his chin tipped up to enjoy the water, his hair clinging to his skin, long nose and high cheekbones, utterly alien, utterly captivating.

Then I felt a hard blow across my breast and neck and Trioda was shrieking at me like a black bird, shrieking, 'Traitor! Traitor to the Mother!'

I swung my fist and hit her. The Scythians had trained me in close fighting. I punched her in the belly so that she was doubled over and out of breath.

She staggered back a pace and I followed up the advantage. I have never been so angry or so ashamed. She had caught me. Trioda of all people had caught me staring fascinated at a naked man, and she already thought me fallen and accursed. Well, I might just be fallen and accursed at that. I forced her out of the palace into the street, pinning her with my eyes. When we were in the street, I said through my teeth, 'You will never strike me again, priestess. Do you understand? I am no longer your acolyte and I will not be beaten.'

'Nor are you a priestess of the Mother, Scythian,' she screamed.

'You tested me yourself,' I screamed back. 'I am chaste and virgin. I am a priestess of the Three-Headed One.'

'You were staring at him, at the Achaean.' She lowered her voice a little. 'I saw your eyes riveted to him, to the male body, the phallus.'

'And if you'd let me see one before, perhaps the sight would not be so strange to me.' I seemed unable to regain control of my voice. I was still shouting. 'Leave me, Trioda. You think me unworthy to be a priestess. You wanted to lie with my father, and came to Hekate when he refused you. I believe that you also are unworthy.'

She shrieked and clawed for my arm, but I raised a hand in warning. I was certainly not going to be beaten again, not by this woman who had lusted for my father and had just struck me in the sight of foreigners. I had borne enough bruises from Trioda's hands, and I was resolved not to bear any more.

She hissed, 'Be accursed.' Before I could say anything to placate her, she made the signs in the air and muttered the beginnings of the exorcism ceremony which casts out ghosts and unworthy priestesses.

'No,' I said, horrified. I had never imagined that Trioda would cast me off if I displeased her. And I had not done anything to disqualify myself from the priesthood.

'Yes!' she said.

I stood in the street as my mistress completed the ceremony which made me accursed in the eyes of the sisterhood, and cast me out of the worship of Hekate, the Dark Mother, She Who Meets.

When she had finished, she spat at my feet and went away in a flutter of black garments, like a carrion bird leaving the well-picked bones of a dead beast because there is not even a scrap of meat left upon them.

And I did not know what to do or say, so I went to the temple. I was not struck by lightning as I went in, so I compounded the insect lotion which the Achaean Nauplios had asked of me. That was my last task for Hekate, promised before I had been expelled.

Kore and Scylla, servants of the Black Bitch, who no longer belonged to me, did not appear to have changed their allegiance, and accompanied me back to the palace.

 

I did not, of course, attend the feast, but I sat in Chalkiope's rooms and listened to the noises. Like all the women, we picked over the remains of the dishes as they were brought out. Our leftovers went to the slaves. If I sat by a certain window, I knew, I could hear without being seen, so I took a plate of broken bread and rich sauces - sometimes I even found a piece of meat or fish - and sat down in the embrasure.

Someone was addressing the king. It was a strong voice, husky, with a foreign accent. I peeped. I would have been executed if I had been caught, for I was no longer a priestess of Hekate, and no woman can look into a men's feast and live. However, no one but Trioda knew I was disgraced, so it was a reasonable risk. And I had to see him, this Jason who would not leave my mind.

'Lord, I have come for the Golden Fleece,' he said simply.

Aetes leapt to his feet and roared at the sons of Phrixos, 'What have you brought to my house? Pirates and thieves!'

They quailed, and Jason moved so that he stood between the sons of Phrixos and the king's wrath.

'Lord, if I was a pirate or a thief, I would not be asking in courtesy. I would have assailed you with war or attempted to steal the fleece. Instead, I am asking for you to demonstrate your royalty by giving it to me. I need it, Lord, to gain my kingdom, to prove my right to my father's realm of Iolkos. I have brought a ship full of heroes on an unprecedented voyage to gain it. For the fleece, I am willing to do anything. Can I fight for you against your enemies? Can I make you a present of gold or any other thing which can be found in the world? Is there a perilous task which you would have me do?'

He was tall and proud, the Achaean, as he stood fearlessly before Aetes my father and put this request. The court was utterly silent. Eupolis had frozen, with a chicken leg raised in the air, dripping with wine sauce onto his snow-white tunic. No one knew how the lord of Colchis would react. He might laugh. He might fall into a fit and order Jason's immediate execution.

I thought this and wondered why my stomach dropped. What was happening to me? He was an Achaean and a foreigner and I had more urgent things to worry about - the fact, for instance, that I had just been flung out of the sisterhood of Hekate.

But I could not move from the window until I found out what happened to the long-haired stranger.

'Very well,' said Aetes quietly. 'I will give you a task. If you perform it I will give you both the bones of the stranger, Phrixos, and the Golden Fleece, treasure of Colchis. If you can plough a field with my oxen in yoke, I will do so, and on that you have my word.'

Jason flushed with delight, a delicate rose tinting his skin. I wanted to scream out that he should not accept this task, that these were the bronze-hoofed cattle of the king, which were man-killers for anyone who approached them unprepared.

But he accepted, of course.

And as I left to find a place to sleep amongst the women slaves - for I could not go back to the temple of Hekate which had been my home for all of my life - I resolved that Jason should succeed, if by any skill of mine I could assist him. My father meant to cheat him, meant the bulls to kill him. It was not a fair task.

I lay down on a slave's pallet near the kitchen, with Kore and Scylla beside me, and wished that I had my time again, so that I should never have seen the stranger or quarrelled with Trioda, but at the same time I blessed the day which had given me sight of Jason.

 

She was completely beautiful and completely alien, Medea, the priestess of Hekate. Jason was instantly struck with her; so was I. Such a maiden, of course, is not to be thought of in any carnal way, and there was an untouchable quality about her. But as she ran out of the mist towards us, calling the name of the youngest son Phrixos, she seemed unearthly. She was small, a head shorter than I, and I was not tall. She was as slim and fast as a bird, with a bird's delicate bones, revealed for a moment as her speed made her sable draperies fill and billow behind her like a sail. Her hair was as dark as ink and perfectly straight, hanging below her waist in one long, silky curtain, fluid and light-reflecting. Her eyes were very dark and her skin the same olive as the sons of Phrixos, who had inherited none of their father's Achaean colouring.

But the hand which tested Melanion's pulse was deft, strong, and roughened by some hard labour. In fact, I would have said she was a rider. This princess and priestess had clearly not been spending her time like an Achaean woman, out of the sun and spinning in her mother's house.

Her voice was fast, clear and precise, switching from Colchian to Achaean and back without difficulty. She rattled her words out very quickly, like a handful of pebbles dropping onto a shield.

Then she was gone.

We went to the palace and were greeted with acclaim, and preparations for the feast began at once. I stopped the Princess Medea in the courtyard and asked her for some of her insect-defying lotion, and she smiled at me. The smile made me feel quite light-headed. Her teeth were white and her mouth was red. I thought it a great pity that such a beautiful maiden, and the daughter of a king as well, should remain virgin all her life for the service of the Crone, but it was not my business to say or think such a thing, and I got permission to walk back to
Argo
where she was moored in the reeds, taking a lot of food and wine and the lotion with me.

The crew of the ship doused themselves in the sun-daisy infusion, which brought instant relief, not only from further attack but from the intolerable itching, which had driven Oileus to plaster himself with mud so that Meleagros called him a shipping hazard and offered to plant him in the reeds as a mooring rock, and Atalante to threaten either homicide or suicide. She was about to take an axe to Idas, who had challenged her to make very small arrows and shoot all the mosquitoes - through the heart, he insisted.