A Timeline of the Heroic Age
In addition to using material from the Greek myths, Jane Yolen and I wanted to set our Young Heroes tales, as best as we could, against the background of the historical Greek civilization of the Heroic Age. The fall of Troy is not only part of the legends of ancient Greece; it is generally accepted to have been a historical event to which we can give an approximate date. Using this as my starting point, I worked my way back in time, setting the major events of Greek legend in chronological sequence.
Note that Heracles is the original Greek name for the hero we normally refer to as Hercules. The titles of the Young Heroes novels are in italics, showing the years when these adventures supposedly took place.
Robert J. Harris
BCE
2200 The Mycenaean peoples invade Greece from the north
1750 Cities of Crete destroyed by an earthquake
1600 Cretan palace at Knossos damaged by an earthquake (Knossos rebuilt within a century and Cretan civilization flourishes)
1357 Perseus slays Medusa
1350 Perseus founds Mycenae
Oedipus becomes King of Thebes
1291 Bellerophon battles the Amazons
1289 Hippolyta and the Curse of the Amazons
1274 The labors of Heracles begin
1273 Heracles sails to the land of the Amazons accompanied by Peleus and Telamon
1270 Heracles captures Troy and slays Laomedon
1268 Theseus sets out for Athens where he slays the Cretan Bull
1267 Theseus travels to Crete and slays the Minotaur; becomes King of Athens
1266 Queen Hippolyta leads the Amazons to war against Athens
1265 Atalanta and the Arcadian Beast
1263 Jason and the Gorgon’s Blood
1259 Jason leaves Mount Pelion and travels to Iolcus
1258 Voyage of the Argonauts
1254 Hunting of the Calydonian Boar
Atalanta marries Melanion
1253 At the age of six, Achilles begins to hunt wild beasts under Chiron’s instruction
1247 Odysseus in the Serpent Maze
1245 Battle of the Gods and Giants
1237 Death of Heracles
1236 Helen marries Menelaus
1235 Penelope marries Odysseus
1234 Paris abducts Helen
1233 Trojan War begins
1225 Deaths of Patroclus and Hector
Penthesilea and the Amazons arrive to help the Trojans
1224 Achilles slain by Paris at the Skaian Gate
1223 Fall of Troy
1213 After ten years of wandering, Odysseus returns to Ithaca
1200 Fall of Mycenae; end of the Heroic Age
Jason and the Gorgon’s Blood
Jane Yolen and Robert J. Harris
For the Harris boys—
Matthew, Robert, and Jamie—
to take along on all their adventures
—J.Y.
To Alan and Anita,
and Elizabeth and Steven,
some of the original adventurers
—R.J.H.
Contents
Chapter 1 A Matter of Pigs
Chapter 2 The Wild Band
Chapter 3 Bad Omens
Chapter 4 The Hiding Place
Chapter 5 A Matter of Princes
Chapter 6 The Tug of a Rope
Chapter 7 The Narrow Path
Chapter 8 The Chasm
Chapter 9 Onward and Upward
Chapter 10 The Haunted Peaks
Chapter 11 Winged Fury
Chapter 12 The Storm Breaks
Chapter 13 The Anger of Hera
Chapter 14 The Mountain Wakes
Chapter 15 The Valley of Death
Chapter 16 Alcestis
Chapter 17 Mount Ossa
Chapter 18 The Cavern
Chapter 19 A Question of Death
Chapter 20 A Matter of Life
Chapter 21 The Challenge
Chapter 22 The Ferryman’s Price
Chapter 23 The Dragon’s Mouth
Chapter 24 The Lake
Chapter 25The Trail
Chapter 26 The Spring
Chapter 27 Blood and Water
What Is True About This Story?
A Conversation Between the Authors
A Biography of Jane Yolen
A Biography of Robert J. Harris
CHAPTER 1
A MATTER OF PIGS
THE CENTAUR WAS ANGRIER than Jason had ever seen him before. He was so angry, he didn’t just stamp his hooves and make the earth shake like a drum or roar till all the caves of Mount Pelion echoed with the sound.
No, he was far too angry for that.
He lined up the six boys and paced up and down before them in threatening silence, his hooves padding softly on the grass, his fists clenching and unclenching in a broken rhythm. His unspoken disapproval was like a heavy boulder pressing down on all of them, and Jason most of all.
Especially, Jason thought, because my mouth is so parched and there is a dull throbbing behind my forehead and my limbs ache and I have bumps like small hillocks all over my body. He shook his head to clear it, which just made things worse.
Why can’t I remember why I feel this way? Something about the night before. A revel? He had never been to a revel before.
“Chiron, master …” Prince Acastus began. He always used the centaur’s title when he wanted to wheedle his way out of trouble.
But Chiron was not to be cozened. He was simply too angry.
“Silence!” Now he roared, and the sound of his voice shattered a small birch in two.
And my head, Jason thought.
Prince Acastus was smart enough to shut up, moving back behind his cousin Admetus.
Jason wondered who would be the first of the boys to crack. Since Chiron had raised him from infancy, and he was used to the centaur’s ways, he knew he would not be the one. But these other boys had been on the mountain for only a matter of weeks, sent by their fathers to be trained as hunters, as warriors, as heroes. Sent to the master of all masters, the burly old centaur who was now pacing so angrily before them.
Jason smiled at the thought. As quickly, he stopped smiling. Smiling hurt.
At last the centaur halted in front of them and arched an accusing eyebrow. Jason hated that look most of all. It signaled some awful punishment was going to follow. And soon.
“Pigs,” Chiron said, his voice throbbing and low, like a toothache. “Let us talk about pigs.”
The centaur was intimidating enough even when he was not angry. With the body of a wild stallion, all sinewy strength and animal speed, crowned by the torso of a heavily muscled man, he radiated raw power. His bearded face had all the majestic grandeur of the mountain that reared up over their heads.
“I say ‘pigs,’ and how do you answer?”
Idas, the strongest of the boys, stuck out his chest and set his square jaw in defiance, trying hard to show that he wasn’t afraid, but nobody was fooled. They were all afraid of Chiron. Centaurs were, after all, bigger and stronger than any human adult. And unpredictable. Though Chiron was different from the rest of his breed. Different, apart—and a master teacher.
Idas’ brother, wiry Lynceus, who swore he could spot an ant crawling up a tree trunk clear across the valley, right now had eyes glazed over in panic, as if he’d gone blind.
Tall, gangly Melampus of Pylos had a reputation as a seer. He boasted he could foretell the future by the movements of the birds, and indeed his mind always did seem to be drifting among the clouds. But a single glare from Chiron and he came crashing to earth, taking a nervous step backward.
Admetus didn’t even attempt to put on a show. His round, fr
eckled face drooped, and he shuffled his feet nervously.
Behind him Acastus crossed his arms, trying—Jason supposed—to look heroic. Hard to do, Jason thought, while hiding behind someone else. Acastus kept up the charade for almost five whole seconds before bowing his head under Chiron’s relentless gaze.
Will he be merciful? Jason wondered. He knew Chiron had a tender heart under that brawny chest. How often had he seen the centaur stop to tend an injured bird, splinting a broken wing or applying a healing salve.
But do we deserve his mercy? Desperately Jason wished he could remember what it was they had done.
Chiron turned his dark-eyed gaze down to the valley below. “I should have known from the sorry state you were in when you dragged yourselves home last night that you had left some sort of trouble behind you.”
“Home!” Acastus whispered contemptuously to Admetus, though Jason overheard. “What kind of home is a cave in the side of a mountain?”
Suddenly Chiron passed behind the boys and without warning swerved his massive body. His rump barged into Acastus, knocking the boy flat on his face. The others began laughing, but one glance from Chiron snuffed out their mirth.
“A prince,” Chiron said in his teacher voice, “should be noted for the respect he shows others, not his insolence.”
As Acastus clambered to his feet, Jason thought, He must have forgotten how sharp Chiron’s ears are. For an instant, rebellion flickered in the young prince’s eyes. Then he lowered his gaze, fixing his eyes on the ground as he fingered the golden amulet that hung around his neck, a symbol of the royal house of Iolcus.
“Pigs,” Chiron said again. “They did not escape their pen without help. Now whose idea was it to set them loose?” He scowled at them, but no one spoke.
“Pigs!” Chiron boomed. Another tree on the edge of the clearing shivered, lost its leaves.
Silence fell again like a smothering blanket.
It was Idas who spoke up at last. “We can’t remember,” he said sullenly. “Whatever punishment is due, inflict it upon us all equally.”
“Idas is right,” Lynceus chimed in after his brother. “Except maybe for the part about punishment. If you choose to leave me out, I promise not to complain.”
Chiron turned the full force of his eyes upon him. Lynceus seemed to shrivel up as though he were trying to shrink to the size of a dust mote.
“And if setting the pigs free weren’t bad enough,” the centaur continued, “you decided to climb on their backs and race them through the streets of the village. A terrible sight, I am sure.”
Hoi! Jason thought. So that’s what we did! He was beginning to remember it now, as if through a haze.
The boys stared down, scuffing the earth with their sandals.
“And the result of this rampage? Three fences knocked down, ten clay pots smashed, a cauldron of soup overturned, chickens set to flight, and women and children terrified out of their wits.”
As far as Jason could recall, most of the village children had been laughing at their antics. He could still feel the bruise in the small of his back where he had landed on a rock when his pig threw him off, to gales of laughter and applause. Surely our escapade wasn’t as bad as all that.
He was about to say so when Chiron added: “Two elders from the village visited me this morning while you were still sleeping off your folly. They wanted to flog you in the village square.”
“Flog us!” Acastus blurted out. “Admetus and I are princes.”
Chiron looked at him under beetling brows. “I persuaded them to leave your punishment to me.”
The boys let their collective gaze fall on Jason, as if begging him to say which would be worse—the flogging or Chiron’s choice.
“I had to give them one of my best goats and five jars of honey by way of compensation,” Chiron added.
Jason winced. He’d been on good terms with the people of the village and could always count on them for something to eat and drink when he was running an errand for Chiron. Now he wondered if he could ever go back there.
“So whose notion was this barbaric race?” Chiron demanded.
Like water gushing from a smashed jar, the boys all started talking at once.
“Somebody said something about the S-Scythians and the Amazons,” Admetus stammered.
“Yes, about how they ride on the backs of horses instead of using chariots like civilized folk,” Lynceus added.
“It seemed like a test of skill,” Melampus finished lamely, “at the time.”
Jason cleared his throat. “The truth is, master,” he said, “we’re not sure whose idea it was. I … we don’t remember it very well. Except”—he rubbed his back—“some of the bumps.”
The boys were silent again.
“Because of the wine.” The centaur’s mouth curled around the final word as if it were distasteful.
Hoi, Jason thought, the wine! He’d never had any wine before. And now he couldn’t even remember what it tasted like.
“The jar was lying unattended,” said Acastus.
“We left two rabbits we’d killed to pay for it,” Admetus added.
“Rabbits I shot,” bragged Idas.
“You missed the second one,” Jason reminded him. “I shot that one.”
“I wounded it,” said Idas, “leaving you an easy target.”
“Enough!” Melampus complained, clutching his skull. “You’re making my head hurt all over again.”
“Was that all you caught?” Chiron asked disdainfully. “Two small rabbits? You were supposed to be on a hunting expedition.”
“We got close to a deer,” said Idas.
“But there was a big argument over who should fire the first shot,” said Lynceus. “The noise scared it off.”
Jason remembered that part. And how no one would listen to him when he warned them to be quiet. How they laughed at him. How they called him Mountain Boy and Chiron’s Slave.
“So,” Chiron concluded solemnly, “instead of carrying on with the hunt, you got drunk on wine and behaved like barbarians.”
“You never let us have any wine,” said Idas sullenly. “Is it any wonder that it goes to our heads once we drink some?”
“At my father’s palace I can drink all the wine I want,” said Acastus.
“Let your father teach you to drink wine, then,” said Chiron. “My task is to teach you to be strong adults, to hunt like a man, to be a virtuous hero.”
All down the line noses wrinkled at the word, except for Jason. He alone nodded. Yes, he thought, that’s what Chiron always says.
“A virtuous hero,” Chiron repeated. “And how can you remember what is virtuous or honorable when you cannot think straight?” He tapped himself on the forehead to emphasize the point.
“Do you mean a virtuous man cannot drink wine?” Idas asked.
“A virtuous man knows when to drink and when not to,” Chiron answered gravely. “He knows when it is appropriate to celebrate a victory or toast the gods, but he also knows when wine will lead to disgrace. One day you may know this, too, but until that time, I forbid wine to all of you.”
Melampus rubbed his brow. “That doesn’t help my head right now,” he complained.
“I have a cure for that,” said Chiron. “However, before I can brew it, you will have to fetch special herbs from the valley of Daphnis.”
“What—all of us?” Acastus exclaimed. “Why not just send Jason?” He said it with a straight face. “He’ll be swiftest. And surely swiftness under these circumstances is a virtue.”
Jason gave him a sidelong look that was as sharp as a dagger but bit back any other response.
Chiron observed his restraint and gave Jason a barely perceptible nod of approval. “As you have been partners in folly,” he said, “so you will be partners in the cure. I will need eyebright, pennyroyal, feverfew, and—rarest of all—bawme. So the more of you there are to search, the quicke
r you will be. If you set out now, you can be back by sundown.”
He began chivvying the boys down the slope, and they complained loudly because of their hurting heads and aching limbs.
“Do you mean us to go without weapons?” Idas was aghast.
“Weapons are for warriors and hunters,” said Chiron icily. “You have proven yourselves to be neither.” He stomped his feet. “The weapons will remain in the back of my cave until you are ready for them.”
“But if we can’t hunt, what will we have to eat?” Melampus asked.
“There are wild fruits and berries aplenty,” replied the centaur, waving at them with a dismissive hand.
“But suppose we run into trouble?” asked Admetus.
“That is the very point I am trying to make,” said Chiron. “For once in your thoughtless lives, I expect you to avoid trouble.”
“That’s fine as long as trouble avoids us, too,” Lynceus murmured.
Melampus trudged up to the centaur and pleaded, “Could we at least take some water?”
Chiron leaned his bearded face close to the boy. “No, Melampus, you cannot. This is supposed to be a punishment. Though I suppose you could go into town and beg for the flogging instead.” He waved them away but signaled Jason to hang back.
Reluctantly, Jason remained as the others trudged downhill.
The old centaur’s face grew thoughtful. “I am disappointed in you, Jason,” he said as soon as the others were out of hearing. “Those boys were sent here to be trained precisely because they are so undisciplined, but you are not. I have raised you myself. I expected better.”
“I just want to be one of them,” Jason said. He hated that his eyes were tearing up. “For the first weeks they would hardly speak to me, treating me like a servant. Last night was the first time—”
“Better you be thought a servant than a fool.”
“If a person is of royal blood, he can be a fool and no one will ever dare call him one,” said Jason bitterly. “But I’m only an orphan, so people can call me anything they like.”
A curious expression flickered in Chiron’s wise eyes, and his voice softened. “Is that all you think of yourself? A worthless orphan? Have I not taught you to take pride in your skills and talents?”