when Medeia cut
that root, for the root was beloved of the queen of the
dead.
“She placed
the salve in the fragrant band that girdled her, beneath
her bosom,
and stepped out quickly and mounted the chariot, with
two of her maidens,
one at each side. Then she herself took the reins and,
seizing
the well-made whip in her right hand, she drove down
through
the city, and the rest of her handmaids laid their fingers
over
the chariot wicker and, holding up their skirts above their white knees, came running behind. She fancies
herself,
her hair flying, like Artemis driving her swiftly racing deer over mountains’ combs to the scent-rich sacrifice. Attendant nymphs have gathered from the forests to
follow her,
and fawning grove-beasts whimper in homage and
tremble as she passes.
So Aietes’ daughter sped through the city, and on either
side,
beggars, tradesmen, carters, old women with bundles of
sticks
made way for her, avoiding the princess’ eye.
“Meanwhile,
Jason was crossing the dew-white plain with Melas and
the old
seer Mopsos, skillful at omen reading. And thanks to
Hera,
never yet had there been such a man as was Jason that
day,
clear-eyed, radiant, his mind more swift, more sweet
in flight
than an eagle riding on the sky-blue robes of gods. In
fact,
his companions, walking beside him, were awed. As
they reached the shrine
they came to a poplar by the side of the path, whose
crown of countless
leaves was a favorite roost for crows. One flapped his
wings
as they passed and, cawing from the treetop, delivered
a message from Hera.
‘Who is this looney old seer who hasn’t got dawkins’
sense,
nor makes out even what children know, that a girl
does not
permit herself one word about love when the man she
meets
brings strangers with him? Away with you, you crackpot
prophet,
incompetent boob! It’s certainly not Aphrodite that
sends
your visions!’
“Mopsos listened to the bird with a smile, despite
the scolding. He turned to Jason and stretched out his
arms and said,
‘Carry on, Jason. Proceed to the temple where Medeia
awaits you.
Praise Aphrodite! Now Melas and I must go on with you no further. We’ll wait right here till your safe return.
Good luck!’
“Meanwhile the poor love-sick Medeia was singing
and dancing
with her maids—or rather, pretending to. For time and
again
her voice would falter and come to a halt. To keep her
eyes fixed
on the choir was more than she could do. She was
always turning them aside
to search the distant paths, and more than once she
was close
to fainting at a sound of wind she mistook for a footfall.
But at last
he appeared to her yearning eyes, striding like Sirius
rising
from the ocean—Sirius, hound of heaven, brilliant and beautiful but filled with menace for the
flocks. Medeia’s
heart stood still; her sight blurred. A flush spread across her cheeks. She could neither move toward him nor
retreat, but, as in
a frightening dream, her feet were rooted to the
ground. As songbirds
suddenly hush at an eagle’s approach, silent, titanic, scarcely moving a wing as it rings on invisible winds, so Medeia’s maidens fell silent and quickly disappeared.
Then Jason
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
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. Bu
t 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