Jason and the Argonauts (5 page)

“Give it to me!”

I handed him the great crystal cup. He lifted it to his mouth. Again the wine shrank from his lips. He dashed the cup to the ground; it shattered on the slate path.

“I thirst … I thirst! Bring water!” he roared.

The page came running. He bore a pitcher full of water. The king snatched it from him but stopped and poured a little out first to see if it was really there. It splashed on the path. He lifted the pitcher and gulped … raised it higher and higher as his mouth sucked frantically. He flung the pitcher from him.

“Misery!” he moaned. “I must drink. I’m dying.”

“Ah, King,” I said. “The gods have sent you a sign. This is a hint of what drought will be like—when even kings thirst.”

“Demon-craft! These are not gods but devils! You are a demon, serving demons! I’ll have you burned! Impaled!”

I listened to him, unafraid. He wasn’t used to suffering, this fat king, and I knew he was too maddened by thirst to be able to croak out any orders for my execution. I spoke gently. “The gods are being merciful, sire. With this little flick of their whip they are urging you back to the path of righteousness and preserving you from the greater torments of drought.”

“All right … all right. I’ll spare him. I’ll send him for that damned Fleece. Do you swear he’ll die on the voyage?”

“The Fleece shall return; he shall not. Look, King, your pitcher overflows.”

Indeed, the pitcher had righted itself on the path, and water was welling out of it. I picked it up and gave it to him. Very hesitantly, he bent his head to it, touched his mouth to the rim, and sipped. His face sagged with relief as he finally drank.

“Behold, O King, the reward of obedience.”

“Here’s my ring,” he said, “my seal. With it you can speak in my name. Have Jason released and bid him prepare for his voyage. Draw upon the treasury for the necessary expenses. But be prudent, I urge you, be prudent.”

E
KION

I
FOUND JASON PROWLING
the wild beach that lies along the northeast shore and is the first to get the wind. It was a deserted beach, a good place to hide someone.

We walked along the water’s edge, and I told him what had happened at court: how I had sowed the king’s sleep with visions of drought, of his wrath and his threats, and how Hermes had parched him into submission. “That’s why he agreed to let us sail for Colchis,” I said. “But he’ll change his mind when he regains his courage. So we’d best make haste.”

“I’m ready now. When do we start?”

“We must first provide ourselves with ship and crew.”

“A ship? Do we build it, or buy it, or simply help ourselves to a vessel of the royal fleet?”

“Hermes will instruct us.”

“Does he realize the need for haste? You’re always telling me god-time is not our time.”

“I shall consult him tonight.”

We had paused. He was gazing out to sea. He turned and stared at me. “Do you consider yourself kind-hearted?” he said.

“Never occurred to me.”

“I heal by touch. What passes through my hands is some sort of energy—nothing to do with kindness or pity.”

“To heal something is a kindness, no matter what you feel.”

“Perhaps … and perhaps I am meant to be a killer. Obviously my skill at archery was not given me so that I could shoot at trees.”

“You’ll be finding other things to shoot at. Things that shoot back.”

“Consider this,” he said. “I’m fond of birds, you know. But I am also fascinated by that butcher among birds, the falcon, the female hawk, larger and stronger than the male. She drops out of the sky upon the pigeon, the lark, the gull … drives her hooks into him, stabs him with her beak, and eats the flesh. And I, who have esteemed her victim, also admire the hawk.”

“You make too much of it. Falconry has always been the sport of kings. No reason you shouldn’t enjoy it without guilt.”

“You came to Cythera to trouble my sleep and plant visions. But I dream without your assistance now. She visits me every night.”

“Who?”

“A winged girl. She is sleek and powerful and has brass claws on hands and feet. And her eyes—the iris is utterly black and the pupil yellow; they are full of yellow light and cold as moon fire. They freeze my marrow. In the plan of this dream, it seems that I have trained her, for she brings me her prey uneaten. A goat, a lamb, and once—a child.”

“I don’t like the sound of this. It may be a harpy you’ve attracted.”

“Are there really such things?”

“One of my father’s duties is to conduct the newly dead to Tartarus. And he has told me about the Land Beyond Death. Many kinds of demons attend Hades, and the most feared are those hell hags called harpies. They have brass wings and brass claws and carry coiled whips at their girdles. They are used to recapture runaway shades. Indeed, Hades casts them like falcons, and they return to him with their prey.”

“Mine has brass claws, but her wings are white leather, delicate as membrane. And she’s young. Our age, you know. Not a hag.”

“Well, dreams are of unequal value. Not all of them are sent by the gods. Perhaps this creature is simply the feverish vapor of your own fancy.”

“No, she’s real. She exists outside my mind. Somewhere she stands near a source of light so strong that her shadow is cast across the sea, past the frontiers of mortal sense, into my sleep.”

“You know that she dwells beyond the sea?”

“Yes.”

“Perhaps she visits you to encourage the quest. Perhaps you will meet her upon your voyage.”

E
KION

T
HE KING SUMMONED ME
and asked for a report.

“I’m keeping Jason out of public view,” I said. “He is making no move to form a party or to claim the throne.”

“All right, as far as it goes. But remember, your chief responsibility is to ensure that the lost prince gets himself permanently lost. He is to recapture the Fleece, if possible, but it is to return without him. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“To facilitate this worthy aim,” he said, “I have arranged to provide you with a ship’s company of cutthroats, every man of them briefed on whose throat to cut.”

“We’ll also need some people to work the ship.”

“That part’s up to you.”

The staff twitched in my hand. The snake lifted its carved head to whisper dryly. It was a message from my father.

Hermes and I walked along the tide line under a moon so bright it branded our shadows on the white sand. There was a heavy surf. Greenish flames flickered on the mane of the breaking waves. A hot night, but his words were chilling.

“No quest for the Fleece has ever succeeded. All these past voyages, made in sound ships with sufficient crew, have met with disaster.”

“Are you recommending an unsound ship and an insufficient crew?”

“You jest, my son, but you speak more wisdom than you know. You don’t need a large crew. Three or four good hands can sail a small ship.”

“Perhaps, when the winds are favorable. But how about when they blow against us or don’t blow at all? Then the ship must be rowed—which takes at least fifty oars.”

“You shall sail the way the wind blows. Sooner or later you’ll get to Colchis. But with a small loyal band, deserving each other’s faith, tested in each other’s eyes, a band of brothers.”

“The king has slightly different ideas,” I said. “He is recruiting a ship’s company of trained assassins—who are promised a rich wage, a richer bonus, and a lifetime pension if Jason should meet with some fatal accident along the way. So what am I to do?”

“What I tell you, of course.”

“How do I keep my head on my shoulders?”

“Keep a brave heart, and I’ll take care of your head.”

“Be specific. How do I avoid hiring these murderous characters?”

“Diplomatically, of course. You’ll tell them they’re hired, give them a sailing date, and make sure to slip anchor before then. By the time you return, they’ll all be dead, probably.”

“Slip anchor in what?”

“You shall have a ship by then. A shipwright named Argos shall come to you. Do not be deceived by his appearance; he’s a master. Provide him with whatever he requires, and conceal his labors from Pelius.”

“Yes, sire. And my crew? That band of brothers?”

“You shall start with your own brothers. They’re on the way.”

“My own brothers!”

“Autolycus and Daphnis. You haven’t forgotten them, have you?”

“Autolycus, yes, he’d be valuable on any adventure. Except …”

“Except what?”

“He’ll be spending all his time taking care of Daphnis—who can’t pass an ordinary day without mishap, let alone the kind of days we’ll be passing.”

“Daphnis will surprise you.”

“He’s no longer a nitwit?”

“Sweetest singer since Orpheus. And, unlike that doom-wailer, his nature is as sunny as his voice. His song works enchantment more potent than sword or arrow. You’ll be glad to have him along.”

E
KION

W
HEN MY BROTHERS
joined us, we moved camp to a heavily wooded peninsula where the trees ran down to the beach.

Daphnis adored Jason on sight. If Autolycus was jealous, he didn’t show it. As for Jason, he received my brothers with more warmth than he had ever shown me. The three of them frisked about, caressing and cuffing each other like half-grown panther cubs, but I stood outside their joyous circle. So, of course, I envied everyone.

In choosing the peninsula for our base camp, I had also selected the best site for shipbuilding. Oak and pine and cedar grew near the sea and would provide our lumber. The ship could be built on the beach and launched right there.

Argos came to us. He didn’t look like a master shipwright. He looked like someone a witch had begun to transform into a seal but had left half-done. He was short and smoothly tubby, with very short arms and large hands. He was clad only in a black leather apron, which clung as closely as another skin. Hair and beard were dark brown and very dense. He looked astonishingly like a seal, in fact; but unlike any beast’s, his black eyes smoldered with a furious impatience. He was incapable of understanding why everyone did not share his image of a perfect ship or how anyone could think of anything else. He started to rave as soon as he came.

“You shall use no ax,” he told me. “Any touch of metal will blight the soul of the dryad that must invest the timbers and keep them alive.”

“Living timbers?”

“If an ordinary deadwood vessel is what you want, you don’t employ an Argos. Any ship I build lives upon the water. She sniffs out the best wind and runs before it. She senses the presence of reefs and avoids them. She threads her way among rocks, and beaches where there is no harbor.”

“With a ship of yours, one scarcely needs a crew.”

“My ship must be served, sir. Must be kept clean and sweet—unblemished in sail and mast, tackle, gear. She must never be left untended because someone will surely steal her.”

“First we have to get her built. And it may be difficult to fell trees without using an ax.”

The others were lounging about the grove. Jason held a kestrel perched on his leather wristband and was whispering to it. Daphnis sat propped against a fallen log, touching his lyre, not playing a tune but imitating the way the wind sighed among the boughs. Autolycus was catching wasps on the wing and letting them go. None of them seemed to be listening to our conversation, but Autolycus growled, “Daphnis can.” I didn’t realize he was speaking to me. He prowled closer and said, “Daphnis can do it.”

“Do what?”

“Uproot trees.” He said to Daphnis, “Do it.”

Daphnis arose slowly, holding his lyre in the crook of his left arm. The sun had just sunk, leaving a clear greenish dusk and a wound of light in the west. Standing, waiting, the fragile boy imposed a hush upon us. The birds fell silent. The wind ceased among the boughs. A piece of moon tangled itself in the branches of a cedar. Daphnis raised his right hand; it floated toward the lyre, bringing a single note. He sang of the Beginning:

“A startled light arose from the rubble of Chaos and became the Goddess Eurynome … She danced across the edge of nothingness and the paths of her dancing became the margins of sea and sky … The North Wind pursued her as she fled, dancing. The West Wind and the South Wind and the East Wind joined the chase; they surrounded her … And became the Universal Serpent, Ophion.”

I heard a faint sob. Jason was weeping, trying to make no sound. Autolycus was iron-faced, but the iron was wet. The blackness of Argos’ hair and beard and apron had made him vanish, all but his glimmering hands. Our circle had enlarged. Deer stood among us, and a pair of gray wolves, ears cocked toward the singer, ignoring the deer. A slouching shadow grew into a bear, shoulders bulking. The moon shook itself free of the cedar, and the animals’ eyes became pits of fire.

Man and beast stood rapt as Daphnis sang:

“Eurynome was captive to the winds, and they closed about her. She turned herself into a white bird and flew away … She nested in the sky and laid a clutch of silver eggs, which were the sun and the earth and the planets and all the stars that stud the sky. Upon the earth were trees, flowers, birds, beasts, and man …”

A wrenching, pulling sound began. My brother’s voice floated above it and kept us noosed in golden cords even as we watched the trees heaving. Oak and pine and tall cedar, they swayed and jerked in a kind of gigantic dance. One by one they pulled themselves out of the earth and hobbled toward us on their roots and stood among us listening to my brother sing:

“… trees, flowers, birds, beasts, and man. Oh, my brothers, Eurynome means ‘far-wandering,’ the first name given the moon … Ophion means ‘moon-serpent.’ And long before there were any gods, there was the All-Mother. The Moon Goddess.”

After the song, the deer slid back into the forest, and the wolves vanished. The bear grunted and slouched away. The trees did not return to their holes but hobbled to the beach on their roots and lay down as if to sleep.

E
KION

W
E NOW HAD OUR
shipwright and timber to meet his crazed specifications. But we had no tools. Argos carried none; he expected them to appear. He never brought anything anywhere but his talent.