I. King Æetes
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_T_HEY had come into a country that was the strangest of all countries,
and amongst a people that were the strangest of all peoples. They were in
the land, this people said, before the moon had come into the sky. And it
is true that when the great king of Egypt had come so far, finding in all
other places men living on the high hills and eating the acorns that grew
on the oaks there, he found in Colchis the city of Aea with a wall around
it and with pillars on which writings were graven. That was when Egypt was
called the Morning Land.
And many of the magicians of Egypt who had come with King Sesostris
stayed in that city of Aea, and they taught people spells that could stay
the moon in her going and coming, in her rising and setting. Priests of
the Moon ruled the city of Aea until King Æetes came.
Æetes had no need of their magic, for Helios, the bright Sun, was his
father, as he thought. Also, Hephæstus, the artisan of the gods, was his
friend, and Hephæstus made for him many wonderful things to be his
protection. Medea, too, his wise daughter, knew the secrets taught by
those who could sway the moon.
But Æetes once was made afraid by a dream that he had: he dreamt that a
ship had come up the Phasis, and then, sailing on a mist, had rammed his
palace that was standing there in all its strength and beauty until it had
fallen down. On the morning of the night that he had had this dream Æetes
called Medea, his wise daughter, and he bade her go to the temple of
Hecate, the Moon, and search out spells that might destroy those who came
against his city.
That morning the Argonauts, who had passed the night in the backwater of
the river, had two youths come to them. They were in a broken ship, and
they had one oar only. When Jason, after giving them food and fresh
garments, questioned them, he found out that these youths were of the city
of Aea, and that they were none others than the sons of Phrixus—of Phrixus
who had come there with the Golden Ram.
And the youths, Phrontis and Melas, were as amazed as was Jason when
they found out whose ship they had come aboard. For Jason was the grandson
of Cretheus, and Cretheus was the brother of Athamas, their grandfather.
They had ventured from Aea, where they had been reared, thinking to reach
the country of Athamas and lay claim to his possessions. But they had been
wrecked at a place not far from the mouth of the Phasis, and with great
pain and struggle they had made their way back.
They were fearful of Aea and of their uncle King Æetes, and they would
gladly go with Jason and the Argonauts back to Greece. They would help
Jason, they said, to persuade Æetes to give the Golden Fleece peaceably to
them. Their mother was the daughter of Æetes—Chalciope, whom the king had
given in marriage to Phrixus, his guest.
A council of the Argonauts was held, and it was agreed that Jason should
go with two comrades to King Æetes, Phrontis and Melas going also. They
were to ask the king to give them the Golden Fleece and to offer him a
recompense. Jason took Peleus and Telamon with him.
As they came to the city a mist fell, and Jason and his comrades with
the sons of Phrixus went through the city without being seen. They came
before the palace of King Æetes. Then Phrontis and Melas were some way
behind. The mist lifted, and before the heroes was the wonder of the
palace in the bright light of the morning.
Vines with broad leaves and heavy clusters of fruit grew from column to
column, the columns holding a gallery up. And under the vines were the
four fountains that Hephæstus had made for King Æetes. They gushed out
into golden, silver, bronze, and iron basins. And one fountain gushed out
clear water, and another gushed out milk; another gushed out wine; and
another oil. On each side of the courtyard were the palace buildings; in
one King Æetes lived with Apsyrtus, his son, and in the other Chalciope
and Medea lived with their handmaidens.
Medea was passing from her father’s house. The mist lifted suddenly and
she saw three strangers in the palace courtyard. One had a crimson mantle
on; his shoulders were such as to make him seem a man that a whole world
could not overthrow, and his eyes had all the sun’s light in them.
Amazed, Medea stood looking upon Jason, wondering at his bright hair and
gleaming eyes and at the lightness and strength of the hand that he had
raised. And then a dove flew toward her: it was being chased by a hawk,
and Medea saw the hawk’s eyes and beak. As the dove lighted upon her
shoulder she threw her veil around it, and the hawk dashed itself against
a column. And as Medea, trembling, leaned against the column she heard a
cry from her sister, who was within.
For now Phrontis and Melas had come up, and Chalciope who was spinning
by the door saw them and cried out. All the servants rushed out. Seeing
Chalciope’s sons there they, too, uttered loud cries, and made such
commotion that Apsyrtus and then King Æetes came out of the palace.
Jason saw King Æetes. He was old and white, but he had great green eyes,
and the strength of a leopard was in all he did. And Jason looked upon
Apsyrtus too; the son of Æetes looked like a Phænician merchant, black of
beard and with rings in his ears, with a hooked nose and a gleam of copper
in his face.
Phrontis and Melas went from their mother’s embrace and made reverence
to King Æetes. Then they spoke of the heroes who were with them, of Jason
and his two comrades. Æetes bade all enter the palace; baths were made
ready for them, and a banquet was prepared.
After the banquet, when they all sat together, Æetes, addressing the
eldest of Chalciope’s sons, said:
“Sons of Phrixus, of that man whom I honored above all men who came to
my halls, speak now and tell me how it is that you have come back to Aea
so soon, and who they are, these men who come with you?”
Æetes, as he spoke, looked sharply upon Phrontis and Melas, for he
suspected them of having returned to Aea, bringing these armed men with
them, with an evil intent. Phrontis looked at the King, and said:
“Æetes, our ship was driven upon the Island of Ares, where it was almost
broken upon the rocks. That was on a murky night, and in the morning the
birds of Ares shot their sharp feathers upon us. We pulled away from that
place, and thereafter we were driven by the winds back to the mouth of the
Phasis. There we met with these heroes who were friendly to us. Who they
are, what they have come to your city for, I shall now tell you.
“A certain king, longing to drive one of these heroes from his land, and
hoping that the race of Cretheus might perish utterly, led him to enter a
most perilous adventure. He came here upon a ship that was made by the
command of Hera, the wife of Zeus, a ship more wonderful than mortals ever
sailed in before. With him there came the mightiest of the heroes of
Greece. He is Jason, the grandson of Cretheus, and he has come to beg that
you will grant him freely the famous Fleece of Gold that Phrixus brought
to Aea.
“But not without recompense to you would he take the Fleece. Already he
has heard of your bitter foes, the Sauromatæ. He with his comrades would
subdue them for you. And if you would ask of the names and the lineage of
the heroes who are with Jason I shall tell you. This is Peleus and this is
Telamon; they are brothers, and they are sons of Æacus, who was of the
seed of Zeus. And all the other heroes who have come with them are of the
seed of the gods.”
So Phrontis said, but the King was not placated by what he said. He
thought that the sons of Chalciope had returned to Aea bringing these
warriors with them so that they might wrest the kingship from him, or,
failing that, plunder the city. Æetes’s heart was filled with wrath as he
looked upon them, and his eyes shone as a leopard’s eyes.
“Begone from my sight,” he cried, “robbers that ye are! Tricksters! If
you had not eaten at my table, assuredly I should have had your tongues
cut out for speaking falsehoods about the blessed gods, saying that this
one and that of your companions was of their divine race.”
Telamon and Peleus strode forward with angry hearts; they would have
laid their hands upon King Æetes only Jason held them back. And then
speaking to the king in a quiet voice, Jason said:
“Bear with us, King Æetes, I pray you. We have not come with such evil
intent as you think. Ah, it was the evil command of an evil king that sent
me forth with these companions of mine across dangerous gulfs of the sea,
and to face your wrath and the armed men you can bring against us. We are
ready to make great recompense for the friendliness you may show to us. We
will subdue for you the Sauromatæ, or any other people that you would lord
it over.”
But Æetes was not made friendly by Jason’s words. His heart was divided
as to whether he should summon his armed men and have them slain upon the
spot, or whether he should put them into danger by the trial he would make
of them. At last he thought that it would be better to put them to the
trial that he had in mind, slaying them afterward if need be. And then he
spoke to Jason, saying:
“Strangers to Colchis, it may be true what my nephews have said. It may
be that ye are truly of the seed of the immortals. And it may be that I
shall give you the Golden Fleece to bear away after I have made trial of
you.”
As he spoke Medea, brought there by his messenger so that she might
observe the strangers, came into the chamber. She entered softly and she
stood away from her father and the four who were speaking with him. Jason
looked upon her, and even although his mind was filled with the thought of
bending King Æetes to his will, he saw what manner of maiden she was, and
what beauty and what strength was hers.
She had a dark face that was made very strange by her crown of golden
hair. Her eyes, like her father’s, were wide and full of light, and her
lips were so full and red that they made her mouth like an opening rose.
But her brows were always knit as if there was some secret anger within
her.
“With brave men I have no quarrel,” said Æetes. “I will make a trial of
your bravery, and if your bravery wins through the trial, be very sure
that you will have the Golden Fleece to bring back in triumph to Iolcus.
“But the trial that I would make of you is hard for a great hero even.
Know that on the plain of Ares yonder I have two fire-breathing bulls with
feet of brass. These bulls were once conquered by me; I yoked them to a
plow of adamant, and with them I plowed the field of Ares for four
plow-gates. Then I sowed the furrows, not with the seed that Demeter
gives, but with teeth of a dragon. And from the dragon’s teeth that I
sowed in the field of Ares armed men sprang up. I slew them with my spear
as they rose around me to slay me. If you can accomplish this that I
accomplished in days gone by I shall submit to you and give you the Golden
Fleece. But if you cannot accomplish what I once accomplished you shall go
from my city empty-handed, for it is not right that a brave man should
yield aught to one who cannot show himself as brave.”
So Æetes said. Then Jason, utterly confounded, cast his eyes upon the
ground. He raised them to speak to the king, and as he did he found the
strange eyes of Medea upon him. With all the courage that was in him he
spoke:
“I will dare this contest, monstrous as it is. I will face this doom. I
have come far, and there is nothing else for me to do but to yoke your
fire-breathing bulls to the plow of adamant, and plow the furrows in the
field of Ares, and struggle with the Earth-born Men.” As he said this he
saw the eyes of Medea grow wide as with fear.
Then Æetes said, “Go back to your ship and make ready for the trial.”
Jason, with Peleus and Telamon, left the chamber, and the king smiled
grimly as he saw them go. Phrontis and Melas went to where their mother
was. But Medea stayed, and Æetes looked upon her with his great leopard’s
eyes. “My daughter, my wise Medea,” he said, “go, put spells upon the
Moon, that Hecate may weaken that man in his hour of trial.” Medea turned
away from her father’s eyes, and went to her chamber.
II. Medea the Sorceress
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_S_HE turned away from her father’s eyes and she went into her own
chamber. For a long time she stood there with her hands clasped together.
She heard the voice of Chalciope lamenting because Æetes had taken a
hatred to her sons and might strive to destroy them. She heard the voice
of her sister lamenting, but Medea thought that the cause that her sister
had for grieving was small compared with the cause that she herself had.
She thought on the moment when she had seen Jason for the first time—in
the courtyard as the mist lifted and the dove flew to her; she thought of
him as he lifted those bright eyes of his; then she thought of his voice
as he spoke after her father had imposed the dreadful trial upon him. She
would have liked then to have cried out to him, “O youth, if others
rejoice at the doom that you go to, I do not rejoice.”
Still her sister lamented. But how great was her own grief compared to
her sister’s! For Chalciope could try to help her sons and could lament
for the danger they were in and no one would blame her. But she might not
strive to help Jason nor might she lament for the danger he was in. How
terrible it would be for a maiden to help a stranger against her father’s
design! How terrible it would be for a woman of Colchis to help a stranger
against the will of the king! How terrible it would be for a daughter to
plot against King Æetes in his own palace!
And then Medea hated Aea, her city. She hated the furious people who
came together in the assembly, and she hated the brazen bulls that
Hephæstus had given her father. And then she thought that there was
nothing in Aea except the furious people and the fire-breathing bulls. O
how pitiful it was that the strange hero and his friends should have come
to such a place for the sake of the Golden Fleece that was watched over by
the sleepless serpent in the grove of Ares!
Still Chalciope lamented. Would Chalciope come to her and ask her,
Medea, to help her sons? If she should come she might speak of the
strangers, too, and of the danger they were in. Medea went to her couch
and lay down upon it. She longed for her sister to come to her or to call
to her.
But Chalciope stayed in her own chamber. Medea, lying upon her couch,
listened to her sister’s laments. At last she went near where Chalciope
was. Then shame that she should think so much about the stranger came over
her. She stood there without moving; she turned to go back to the couch,
and then trembled so much that she could not stir. As she stood between
her couch and her sister’s chamber she heard the voice of Chalciope
calling to her.
She went into the chamber where her sister stood. Chalciope flung her
arms around her. “Swear,” said she to Medea, “swear by Hecate, the Moon,
that you will never speak of something I am going to ask you.” Medea swore
that she would never speak of it.
Chalciope spoke of the danger her sons were in. She asked Medea to
devise a way by which they could escape with the stranger from Aea. “In
Aea and in Colchis,” she said, “there will be no safety for my sons
henceforth.” And to save Phrontis and Melas, she said, Medea would have to
save the strangers also. Surely she knew of a charm that would save the
stranger from the brazen bulls in the contest on the morrow!
So Chalciope came to the very thing that was in Medea’s mind. Her heart
bounded with joy and she embraced her. “Chalciope,” she said, “I declare
that I am your sister, indeed—aye, and your daughter, too, for did you not
care for me when I was an infant? I will strive to save your sons. I will
strive to save the strangers who came with your sons. Send one to the
strangers—send him to the leader of the strangers, and tell him that I
would see him at daybreak in the temple of Hecate.”
When Medea said this Chalciope embraced her again. She was amazed to see
how Medea’s tears were flowing. “Chalciope,” she said, “no one will know
the dangers that I shall go through to save them.”
Swiftly then Chalciope went from the chamber. But Medea stayed there
with her head bowed and the blush of shame on her face. She thought that
already she had deceived her sister, making her think that it was Phrontis
and Melas and not Jason that was in her mind to save. And she thought on
how she would have to plot against her father and against her own people,
and all for the sake of a stranger who would sail away without thought of
her, without the image of her in his mind.
Jason, with Peleus and Telamon, went back to the _Argo_. His comrades
asked how he had fared, and when he spoke to them of the fire-breathing
bulls with feet of brass, of the dragon’s teeth that had to be sown, and
of the Earth-born Men that had to be overcome, the Argonauts were greatly
cast down, for this task, they thought, was one that could not be
accomplished. He who stood before the fire-breathing bulls would perish on
the moment. But they knew that one amongst them must strive to accomplish
the task. And if Jason held back, Peleus, Telamon, Theseus, Castor,
Polydeuces, or any one of the others would undertake it.
But Jason would not hold back. On the morrow, he said, he would strive
to yoke the fire-breathing, brazen-footed bulls to the plow of adamant. If
he perished the Argonauts should then do what they thought was best—make
other trials to gain the Golden Fleece, or turn their ship and sail back
to Greece.
While they were speaking, Phrontis, Chalciope’s son, came to the ship.
The Argonauts welcomed him, and in a while he began to speak of his
mother’s sister and of the help she could give. They grew eager as he
spoke of her, all except rough Arcas, who stood wrapped in his bear’s
skin. “Shame on us,” rough Arcas cried, “shame on us if we have come here
to crave the help of girls! Speak no more of this! Let us, the Argonauts,
go with swords into the city of Aea, and slay this king, and carry off the
Fleece of Gold.”
Some of the Argonauts murmured approval of what Arcas said. But Orpheus
silenced him and them, for in his prophetic mind Orpheus saw something of
the help that Medea would give them. It would be well, Orpheus said, to
take help from this wise maiden; Jason should go to her in the temple of
Hecate. The Argonauts agreed to this; they listened to what Phrontis told
them about the brazen bulls, and the night wore on.
When darkness came upon the earth; when, at sea, sailors looked to the
Bear and the stars of Orion; when, in the city, there was no longer the
sound of barking dogs nor of men’s voices, Medea went from the palace. She
came to a path; she followed it until it brought her into the part of the
grove that was all black with the shadow that oak trees made.
She raised up her hands and she called upon Hecate, the Moon. As she
did, there was a blaze as from torches all around, and she saw horrible
serpents stretching themselves toward her from the branches of the trees.
Medea shrank back in fear. But again she called upon Hecate. And now there
was a howling as from the hounds of Hades all around her. Fearful, indeed,
Medea grew as the howling came near her; almost she turned to flee. But
she raised her hands again and called upon Hecate. Then the nymphs who
haunted the marsh and the river shrieked, and at those shrieks Medea
crouched down in fear.
She called upon Hecate, the Moon, again. She saw the moon rise above the
treetops, and then the hissing and shrieking and howling died away.
Holding up a goblet in her hand Medea poured out a libation of honey to
Hecate, the Moon.
And then she went to where the moon made a brightness upon the ground.
There she saw a flower that rose above the other flowers—a flower that
grew from two joined stalks, and that was of the color of a crocus. Medea
cut the stalks with a brazen knife, and as she did there came a deep groan
out of the earth.
This was the Promethean flower. It had come out of the earth first when
the vulture that tore at Prometheus’s liver had let fall to earth a drop
of his blood. With a Caspian shell that she had brought with her Medea
gathered the dark juice of this flower—the juice that went to make her
most potent charm. All night she went through the grove gathering the
juice of secret herbs; then she mingled them in a phial that she put away
in her girdle.
She went from that grove and along the river. When the sun shed its
first rays upon snowy Caucasus she stood outside the temple of Hecate. She
waited, but she had not long to wait, for, like the bright star Sirius
rising out of Ocean, soon she saw Jason coming toward her. She made a sign
to him, and he came and stood beside her in the portals of the temple.
They would have stood face to face if Medea did not have her head bent.
A blush had come upon her face, and Jason seeing it, and seeing how her
head was bent, knew how grievous it was to her to meet and speak to a
stranger in this way. He took her hand and he spoke to her reverently, as
one would speak to a priestess.
“Lady,” he said, “I implore you by Hecate and by Zeus who helps all
strangers and suppliants to be kind to me and to the men who have come to
your country with me. Without your help I cannot hope to prevail in the
grievous trial that has been laid upon me. If you will help us, Medea,
your name will be renowned throughout all Greece. And I have hopes that
you will help us, for your face and form show you to be one who can be
kind and gracious.”
The blush of shame had gone from Medea’s face and a softer blush came
over her as Jason spoke. She looked upon him and she knew that she could
hardly live if the breath of the brazen bulls withered his life or if the
Earth-born Men slew him. She took the charm from out her girdle;
ungrudgingly she put it into Jason’s hands. And as she gave him the charm
that she had gained with such danger, the fear and trouble that was around
her heart melted as the dew melts from around the rose when it is warmed
by the first light of the morning.
Then they spoke standing close together in the portal of the temple. She
told him how he should anoint his body all over with the charm; it would
give him, she said, boundless and untiring strength, and make him so that
the breath of the bulls could not wither him nor the horns of the bulls
pierce him. She told him also to sprinkle his shield and his sword with
the charm.
And then they spoke of the dragon’s teeth and of the Earth-born Men who
would spring from them. Medea told Jason that when they arose out of the
earth he was to cast a great stone amongst them. The Earth-born Men would
struggle about the stone, and they would slay each other in the contest.
Her dark and delicate face was beautiful. Jason looked upon her, and it
came into his mind that in Colchis there was something else of worth
besides the Golden Fleece. And he thought that after he had won the Fleece
there would be peace between the Argonauts and King Æetes, and that he and
Medea might sit together in the king’s hall. But when he spoke of being
joined in friendship with her father, Medea cried:
“Think not of treaties nor of covenants. In Greece such are regarded,
but not here. Ah, do not think that the king, my father, will keep any
peace with you! When you have won the Fleece you must hasten away. You
must not tarry in Aea.”
She said this and her cheeks were wet with tears to think that he should
go so soon, that he would go so far, and that she would never look upon
him again. She bent her head again and she said: “Tell me about your own
land; about the place of your father, the place where you will live when
you win back from Colchis.”
Then Jason told her of Iolcus; he told her how it was circled by
mountains not so lofty as her Caucasus; he told her of the pasture lands
of Iolcus with their flocks of sheep; he told her of the Mountain Pelion
where he had been reared by Chiron, the ancient centaur; he told her of
his father who lingered out his life in waiting for his return.
Medea said: “When you go back to Iolcus do not forget me, Medea. I shall
remember you, Jason, even in my father’s despite. And it will be my hope
that some rumor of you will come to me like some messenger-bird. If you
forget me may some blast of wind sweep me away to Iolcus, and may I sit in
your hall an unknown and an unexpected guest!”
Then they parted; Medea went swiftly back to the palace, and Jason,
turning to the river, went to where the _Argo_ was moored.
The heroes embraced and questioned him; he told them of Medea’s counsel
and he showed them the charm she had given him. That savage man Arcas
scoffed at Medea’s counsel and Medea’s charm, saying that the Argonauts
had become poor-spirited indeed when they had to depend upon a girl’s
help.
Jason bathed in the river; then he anointed himself with the charm; he
sprinkled his spear and shield and sword with it. He came to Arcas who sat
upon his bench, still nursing his anger, and he held the spear toward him.
Arcas took up his heavy sword and he hewed at the butt of the spear. The
edge of the sword turned. The blade leaped back in his hand as if it had
been struck against an anvil. And Jason, feeling within him a boundless
and tireless strength, laughed aloud.
III. The Winning of the Golden Fleece
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_T_HEY took the ship out of the backwater and they brought her to a wharf
in the city. At a place that was called “The Ram’s Couch” they fastened
the _Argo_. Then they marched to the field of Ares, where the king and the
Colchian people were.
Jason, carrying his shield and spear, went before the king. From the
king’s hand he took the gleaming helmet that held the dragon’s teeth. This
he put into the hands of Theseus, who went with him. Then with the spear
and shield in his hands, with his sword girt across his shoulders, and
with his mantle stripped off, Jason looked across the field of Ares.
He saw the plow that he was to yoke to the bulls; he saw the yoke of
bronze near it; he saw the tracks of the bulls’ hooves. He followed the
tracks until he came to the lair of the fire-breathing bulls. Out of that
lair, which was underground, smoke and fire belched.
He set his feet firmly upon the ground and he held his shield before
him. He awaited the onset of the bulls. They came clanging up with loud
bellowing, breathing out fire. They lowered their heads, and with mighty,
iron-tipped horns they came to gore and trample him.
Medea’s charm had made him strong; Medea’s charm had made his shield
impregnable. The rush of the bulls did not overthrow him. His comrades
shouted to see him standing firmly there, and in wonder the Colchians
gazed upon him. All round him, as from a furnace, there came smoke and
fire.
The bulls roared mightily. Grasping the horns of the bull that was upon
his right hand, Jason dragged him until he had brought him beside the yoke
of bronze. Striking the brazen knees of the bull suddenly with his foot he
forced him down. Then he smote the other bull as it rushed upon him, and
it too he forced down upon its knees.
Castor and Polydeuces held the yoke to him. Jason bound it upon the
necks of the bulls. He fastened the plow to the yoke. Then he took his
shield and set it upon his back, and grasping the handles of the plow he
started to make the furrow.
With his long spear he drove the bulls before him as with a goad.
Terribly they raged, furiously they breathed out fire. Beside Jason
Theseus went holding the helmet that held the dragon’s teeth. The hard
ground was torn up by the plow of adamant, and the clods groaned as they
were cast up. Jason flung the teeth between the open sods, often turning
his head in fear that the deadly crop of the Earth-born Men were rising
behind him.
[Illustration]
The Field of the Dragon’s Teeth
By the time that a third of the day was finished the field of Ares had
been plowed and sown. As yet the furrows were free of the Earth-born Men.
Jason went down to the river and filled his helmet full of water and drank
deeply. And his knees that were stiffened with the plowing he bent until
they were made supple again.
He saw the field rising into mounds. It seemed that there were graves
all over the field of Ares. Then he saw spears and shields and helmets
rising up out of the earth. Then armed warriors sprang up, a fierce battle
cry upon their lips.
Jason remembered the counsel of Medea. He raised a boulder that four men
could hardly raise and with arms hardened by the plowing he cast it. The
Colchians shouted to see such a stone cast by the hands of one man. Right
into the middle of the Earth-born Men the stone came. They leaped upon it
like hounds, striking at one another as they came together. Shield crashed
on shield, spear rang upon spear as they struck at each other. The
Earth-born Men, as fast as they arose, went down before the weapons in the
hands of their brethren.
Jason rushed upon them, his sword in his hand. He slew some that had
risen out of the earth only as far as the shoulders; he slew others whose
feet were still in the earth; he slew others who were ready to spring upon
him. Soon all the Earth-born Men were slain, and the furrows ran with
their dark blood as channels run with water in springtime.
The Argonauts shouted loudly for Jason’s victory. King Æetes rose from
his seat that was beside the river and he went back to the city. The
Colchians followed him. Day faded, and Jason’s contest was ended.
But it was not the will of Æetes that the strangers should be let depart
peaceably with the Golden Fleece that Jason had won. In the assembly
place, with his son Apsyrtus beside him, and with the furious Colchians
all around him, the king stood: on his breast was the gleaming corselet
that Ares had given him, and on his head was that golden helmet with its
four plumes that made him look as if he were truly the son of Helios, the
Sun. Lightnings flashed from his great eyes; he spoke fiercely to the
Colchians, holding in his hand his bronze-topped spear.
He would have them attack the strangers and burn the _Argo_. He would
have the sons of Phrixus slain for bringing them to Aea. There was a
prophecy, he declared, that would have him be watchful of the treachery of
his own offspring: this prophecy was being fulfilled by the children of
Chalciope; he feared, too, that his daughter, Medea, had aided the
strangers. So the king spoke, and the Colchians, hating all strangers,
shouted around him.
Word of what her father had said was brought to Medea. She knew that she
would have to go to the Argonauts and bid them flee hastily from Aea. They
would not go, she knew, without the Golden Fleece; then she, Medea, would
have to show them how to gain the Fleece.
Then she could never again go back to her father’s palace, she could
never again sit in this chamber and talk to her handmaidens, and be with
Chalciope, her sister. Forever afterward she would be dependent on the
kindness of strangers. Medea wept when she thought of all this. And then
she cut off a tress of her hair and she left it in her chamber as a
farewell from one who was going afar. Into the chamber where Chalciope was
she whispered farewell.
The palace doors were all heavily bolted, but Medea did not have to pull
back the bolts. As she chanted her Magic Song the bolts softly drew back,
the doors softly opened. Swiftly she went along the ways that led to the
river. She came to where fires were blazing and she knew that the
Argonauts were there.
She called to them, and Phrontis, Chalciope’s son, heard the cry and
knew the voice. To Jason he spoke, and Jason quickly went to where Medea
stood.
She clasped Jason’s hand and she drew him with her. “The Golden Fleece,”
she said, “the time has come when you must pluck the Golden Fleece off the
oak in the grove of Ares.” When she said these words all Jason’s being
became taut like the string of a bow.
It was then the hour when huntsmen cast sleep from their eyes—huntsmen
who never sleep away the end of the night, but who are ever ready to be up
and away with their hounds before the beams of the sun efface the track
and the scent of the quarry. Along a path that went from the river Medea
drew Jason. They entered a grove. Then Jason saw something that was like a
cloud filled with the light of the rising sun. It hung from a great oak
tree. In awe he stood and looked upon it, knowing that at last he looked
upon THE GOLDEN FLEECE.
His hand let slip Medea’s hand and he went to seize the Fleece. As he
did he heard a dreadful hiss. And then he saw the guardian of the Golden
Fleece. Coiled all around the tree, with outstretched neck and keen and
sleepless eyes, was a deadly serpent. Its hiss ran all through the grove
and the birds that were wakening up squawked in terror.
Like rings of smoke that rise one above the other, the coils of the
serpent went around the tree—coils covered by hard and gleaming scales. It
uncoiled, stretched itself, and lifted its head to strike. Then Medea
dropped on her knees before it, and began to chant her Magic Song.
As she sang, the coils around the tree grew slack. Like a dark,
noiseless wave the serpent sank down on the ground. But still its jaws
were open, and those dreadful jaws threatened Jason. Medea, with a newly
cut spray of juniper dipped in a mystic brew, touched its deadly eyes. And
still she chanted her Magic Song. The serpent’s jaws closed; its eyes
became deadened; far through the grove its length was stretched out.
[Illustration]
Then Jason took the Golden Fleece. As he raised his hands to it, its
brightness was such as to make a flame on his face. Medea called to him.
He strove to gather it all up in his arms; Medea was beside him, and they
went swiftly on.
They came to the river and down to the place where the _Argo_ was
moored. The heroes who were aboard started up, astonished to see the
Fleece that shone as with the lightning of Zeus. Over Medea Jason cast it,
and he lifted her aboard the _Argo_.
“O friends,” he cried, “the quest on which we dared the gulfs of the sea
and the wrath of kings is accomplished, thanks to the help of this maiden.
Now may we return to Greece; now have we the hope of looking upon our
fathers and our friends once more. And in all honor will we bring this
maiden with us, Medea, the daughter of King Æetes.”
Then he drew his sword and cut the hawsers of the ship, calling upon the
heroes to drive the _Argo_ on. There was a din and a strain and a splash
of oars, and away from Aea the _Argo_ dashed. Beside the mast Medea stood;
the Golden Fleece had fallen at her feet, and her head and face were
covered by her silver veil.
IV. The Slaying of Apsyrtus
[Decorative first letter]
_T_HAT silver veil was to be splashed with a brother’s blood, and the
Argonauts, because of that calamity, were for a long time to be held back
from a return to their native land.
Now as they went down the river they saw that dangers were coming
swiftly upon them. The chariots of the Colchians were upon the banks.
Jason saw King Æetes in his chariot, a blazing torch lighting his corselet
and his helmet. Swiftly the _Argo_ went, but there were ships behind her,
and they went swiftly too.
They came into the Sea of Pontus, and Phrontis, the son of Phrixus, gave
counsel to them. “Do not strive to make the passage of the Symplegades,”
he said. “All who live around the Sea of Pontus are friendly to King
Æetes; they will be warned by him, and they will be ready to slay us and
take the _Argo_. Let us journey up the River Ister, and by that way we can
come to the Thrinacian Sea that is close to your land.”
The Argonauts thought well of what Phrontis said; into the waters of the
Ister the ship was brought. Many of the Colchian ships passed by the mouth
of the river, and went seeking the _Argo_ toward the passage of the
Symplegades.
But the Argonauts were on a way that was dangerous for them. For
Apsyrtus had not gone toward the Symplegades seeking the _Argo_. He had
led his soldiers overland to the River Ister at a place that was at a
distance above its mouth. There were islands in the river at that place,
and the soldiers of Apsyrtus landed on the islands, while Apsyrtus went to
the kings of the people around and claimed their support.
The _Argo_ came and the heroes found themselves cut off. They could not
make their way between the islands that were filled with the Colchian
soldiers, nor along the banks that were lined with men friendly to King
Æetes. _Argo_ was stayed. Apsyrtus sent for the chiefs; he had men enough
to overwhelm them, but he shrank from a fight with the heroes, and he
thought that he might gain all he wanted from them without a struggle.
Theseus and Peleus went to him. Apsyrtus would have them give up the
Golden Fleece; he would have them give up Medea and the sons of Phrixus
also.
Theseus and Peleus appealed to the judgment of the kings who supported
Apsyrtus. Æetes, they said, had no more claim on the Golden Fleece. He had
promised it to Jason as a reward for tasks that he had imposed. The tasks
had been accomplished and the Fleece, no matter in what way it was taken
from the grove of Ares, was theirs. So Theseus and Peleus said, and the
kings who supported Apsyrtus gave judgment for the Argonauts.
But Medea would have to be given to her brother. If that were done the
_Argo_ would be let go on her course, Apsyrtus said, and the Golden Fleece
would be left with them. Apsyrtus said, too, that he would not take Medea
back to the wrath of her father; if the Argonauts gave her up she would be
let stay on the island of Artemis and under the guardianship of the
goddess.
The chiefs brought Apsyrtus’s words back. There was a council of the
Argonauts, and they agreed that they should leave Medea on the island of
Artemis.
But grief and wrath took hold of Medea when she heard of this resolve.
Almost she would burn the _Argo_. She went to where Jason stood, and she
spoke again of all she had done to save his life and win the Golden Fleece
for the Argonauts. Jason made her look on the ships and the soldiers that
were around them; he showed her how these could overwhelm the Argonauts
and slay them all. With all the heroes slain, he said, Medea would come
into the hands of Apsyrtus, who then could leave her on the island of
Artemis or take her back to the wrath of her father.
But Medea would not consent to go nor could Jason’s heart consent to let
her go. Then these two made a plot to deceive Apsyrtus.
“I have not been of the council that agreed to give you up to him,”
Jason said. “After you have been left there I will take you off the island
of Artemis secretly. The Colchians and the kings who support them, not
knowing that you have been taken off and hidden on the _Argo_, will let us
pass.” This Medea and Jason planned to do, and it was an ill thing, for it
was breaking the covenant that the chiefs had entered with Apsyrtus.
[Illustration]
Medea then was left by the Argonauts on the island of Artemis. Now
Apsyrtus had been commanded by his father to bring her back to Aea; he
thought that when she had been left by the Argonauts he could force her to
come with him. So he went over to the island. Jason, secretly leaving his
companions, went to the island from the other side.
Before the temple of Artemis Jason and Apsyrtus came face to face. Both
men, thinking they had been betrayed to their deaths, drew their swords.
Then, before the vestibule of the temple and under the eyes of Medea,
Jason and Apsyrtus fought. Jason’s sword pierced the son of Æetes; as he
fell Apsyrtus cried out bitter words against Medea, saying that it was on
her account that he had come on his death. And as he fell the blood of her
brother splashed Medea’s silver veil.
Jason lifted Medea up and carried her to the _Argo_. They hid the maiden
under the Fleece of Gold and they sailed past the ships of the Colchians.
When darkness came they were far from the island of Artemis. It was then
that they heard a loud wailing, and they knew that the Colchians had
discovered that their prince had been slain.
The Colchians did not pursue them. Fearing the wrath of Æetes they made
settlements in the lands of the kings who had supported Apsyrtus; they
never went back to Aea; they called themselves Apsyrtians henceforward,
naming themselves after the prince they had come with.
They had escaped the danger that had hemmed them in, but the Argonauts,
as they sailed on, were not content; covenants had been broken, and blood
had been shed in a bad cause. And as they went on through the darkness the
voice of the ship was heard; at the sound of that voice fear and sorrow
came upon the voyagers, for they felt that it had a prophecy of doom.
Castor and Polydeuces went to the front of the ship; holding up their
hands, they prayed. Then they heard the words that the voice uttered: in
the night as they went on the voice proclaimed the wrath of Zeus on
account of the slaying of Apsyrtus.
What was their doom to be? It was that the Argonauts would have to
wander forever over the gulfs of the sea unless Medea had herself cleansed
of her brother’s blood. There was one who could cleanse Medea—Circe, the
daughter of Helios and Perse. The voice urged the heroes to pray to the
immortal gods that the way to the island of Circe be shown to them.
V. Medea Comes to Circe
[Decorative first letter]
_T_HEY sailed up the River Ister until they came to the Eridanus, that
river across which no bird can fly. Leaving the Eridanus they entered the
Rhodanus, a river that rises in the extreme north, where Night herself has
her habitation. And voyaging up this river they came to the Stormy Lakes.
A mist lay upon the lakes night and day; voyaging through them the
Argonauts at last brought out their ship upon the Sea of Ausonia.
It was Zetes and Calais, the sons of the North Wind, who brought the
_Argo_ safely along this dangerous course. And to Zetes and Calais Iris,
the messenger of the gods, appeared and revealed to them where Circe’s
island lay.
Deep blue water was all around that island, and on its height a marble
house was to be seen. But a strange haze covered everything as with a
veil. As the Argonauts came near they saw what looked to them like great
dragonflies; they came down to the shore, and then the heroes saw that
they were maidens in gleaming dresses.
The maidens waved their hands to the voyagers, calling them to come on
the island. Strange beasts came up to where the maidens were and made
whimpering cries.
The Argonauts would have drawn the ship close and would have sprung upon
the island only that Medea cried out to them. She showed them the beasts
that whimpered around the maidens, and then, as the Argonauts looked upon
them, they saw that these were not beasts of the wild. There was something
strange and fearful about them; the heroes gazed upon them with troubled
eyes. They brought the ship near, but they stayed upon their benches,
holding the oars in their hands.
Medea sprang to the island; she spoke to the maidens so that they shrank
away; then the beasts came and whimpered around her. “Forbear to land
here, O Argonauts,” Medea cried, “for this is the island where men are
changed into beasts.” She called to Jason to come; only Jason would she
have come upon the island.
They went swiftly toward the marble house, and the beasts followed them,
looking up at Jason and Medea with pitiful human eyes. They went into the
marble house of Circe, and as suppliants they seated themselves at the
hearth.
Circe stood at her loom, weaving her many-colored threads. Swiftly she
turned to the suppliants; she looked for something strange in them, for
just before they came the walls of her house dripped with blood and the
flame ran over and into her pot, burning up all the magic herbs she was
brewing. She went toward where they sat, Medea with her face hidden by her
hands, and Jason, with his head bent, holding with its point in the ground
the sword with which he had slain the son of Æetes.
[Illustration]
When Medea took her hands away from before her face, Circe knew that,
like herself, this maiden was of the race of Helios. Medea spoke to her,
telling her first of the voyage of the heroes and of their toils; telling
her then of how she had given help to Jason against the will of Æetes, her
father; telling her then, fearfully, of the slaying of Apsyrtus. She
covered her face with her robe as she spoke of it. And then she told Circe
she had come, warned by the judgment of Zeus, to ask of Circe, the
daughter of Helios, to purify her from the stain of her brother’s blood.
Like all the children of Helios, Circe had eyes that were wide and full
of life, but she had stony lips—lips that were heavy and moveless. Bright
golden hair hung smoothly along each of her sides. First she held a cup to
them that was filled with pure water, and Jason and Medea drank from that
cup.
Then Circe stayed by the hearth; she burnt cakes in the flame, and all
the while she prayed to Zeus to be gentle with these suppliants. She
brought both to the seashore. There she washed Medea’s body and her
garments with the spray of the sea.
Medea pleaded with Circe to tell her of the life she foresaw for her,
but Circe would not speak of it. She told Medea that one day she would
meet a woman who knew nothing about enchantments but who had much human
wisdom. She was to ask of her what she was to do in her life or what she
was to leave undone. And whatever this woman out of her wisdom told her,
that Medea was to regard. Once more Circe offered them the cup filled with
clear water, and when they had drunken of it she left them upon the
seashore. As she went toward her marble house the strange beasts followed
Circe, whimpering as they went. Jason and Medea went aboard the _Argo_,
and the heroes drew away from Circe’s island.
VI. In the Land of the Phæacians
[Decorative first letter]
_W_EARIED were the heroes now. They would have fain gone upon the island
of Circe to rest there away from the oars and the sound of the sea. But
the wisest of them, looking upon the beasts that were men transformed,
held the _Argo_ far off the shore. Then Jason and Medea came aboard, and
with heavy hearts and wearied arms they turned to the open sea again.
No longer had they such high hearts as when they drove the _Argo_
between the Clashers and into the Sea of Pontus. Now their heads drooped
as they went on, and they sang such songs as slaves sing in their hopeless
labor. Orpheus grew fearful for them now.
For Orpheus knew that they were drawing toward a danger. There was no
other way for them, he knew, but past the Island Anthemœssa in the
Tyrrhenian Sea where the Sirens were. Once they had been nymphs and had
tended Persephone before she was carried off by Aidoneus to be his queen
in the Underworld. Kind they had been, but now they were changed, and they
cared only for the destruction of men.
All set around with rocks was the island where they were. As the _Argo_
came near, the Sirens, ever on the watch to draw mariners to their
destruction, saw them and came to the rocks and sang to them, holding each
other’s hands.
They sang all together their lulling song. That song made the wearied
voyagers long to let their oars go with the waves, and drift, drift to
where the Sirens were. Bending down to them the Sirens, with soft hands
and white arms, would lift them to soft resting places. Then each of the
Sirens sang a clear, piercing song that called to each of the voyagers.
Each man thought that his own name was in that song. “O how well it is
that you have come near,” each one sang, “how well it is that you have
come near where I have awaited you, having all delight prepared for you!”
Orpheus took up his lyre as the Sirens began to sing. He sang to the
heroes of their own toils. He sang of them, how, gaunt and weary as they
were, they were yet men, men who were the strength of Greece, men who had
been fostered by the love and hope of their country. They were the winners
of the Golden Fleece and their story would be told forever. And for the
fame that they had won men would forego all rest and all delight. Why
should they not toil, they who were born for great labors and to face
dangers that other men might not face? Soon hands would be stretched out
to them—the welcoming hands of the men and women of their own land.
So Orpheus sang, and his voice and the music of his lyre prevailed above
the Sirens’ voices. Men dropped their oars, but other men remained at
their benches, and pulled steadily, if wearily, on. Only one of the
Argonauts, Butes, a youth of Iolcus, threw himself into the water and swam
toward the rocks from which the Sirens sang.
But an anguish that nearly parted their spirits from their bodies was
upon them as they went wearily on. Toward the end of the day they beheld
another island—an island that seemed very fair; they longed to land and
rest themselves there and eat the fruits of the island. But Orpheus would
not have them land. The island, he said, was Thrinacia. Upon that island
the Cattle of the Sun pastured, and if one of the cattle perished through
them their return home might not be won. They heard the lowing of the
cattle through the mist, and a deep longing for the sight of their own
fields, with a white house near, and flocks and herds at pasture, came
over the heroes. They came near the Island of Thrinacia, and they saw the
Cattle of the Sun feeding by the meadow streams; not one of them was
black; all were white as milk, and the horns upon their heads were golden.
They saw the two nymphs who herded the kine—Phæthusa and Lampetia, one
with a staff of silver and the other with a staff of gold.
Driven by the breeze that came over the Thrinacian Sea the Argonauts
came to the land of the Phæacians. It was a good land as they saw when
they drew near; a land of orchards and fresh pastures, with a white and
sun-lit city upon the height. Their spirits came back to them as they drew
into the harbor; they made fast the hawsers, and they went upon the ways
of the city.
And then they saw everywhere around them the dark faces of Colchian
soldiers. These were the men of King Æetes, and they had come overland to
the Phæacian city, hoping to cut off the Argonauts. Jason, when he saw the
soldiers, shouted to those who had been left on the _Argo_, and they drew
out of the harbor, fearful lest the Colchians should grapple with the ship
and wrest from them the Fleece of Gold. Then Jason made an encampment upon
the shore, and the captain of the Colchians went here and there, gathering
together his men.
Medea left Jason’s side and hastened through the city. To the palace of
Alcinous, king of the Phæacians, she went. Within the palace she found
Arete, the queen. And Arete was sitting by her hearth, spinning golden and
silver threads.
Arete was young at that time, as young as Medea, and as yet no child had
been born to her. But she had the clear eyes of one who understands, and
who knows how to order things well. Stately, too, was Arete, for she had
been reared in the house of a great king. Medea came to her, and fell upon
her knees before her, and told her how she had fled from the house of her
father, King Æetes.
She told Arete, too, how she had helped Jason to win the Golden Fleece,
and she told her how through her her brother had been led to his death. As
she told this part of her story she wept and prayed at the knees of the
queen.
Arete was greatly moved by Medea’s tears and prayers. She went to
Alcinous in his garden, and she begged of him to save the Argonauts from
the great force of the Colchians that had come to cut them off. “The
Golden Fleece,” said Arete, “has been won by the tasks that Jason
performed. If the Colchians should take Medea, it would be to bring her
back to Aea and to a bitter doom. And the maiden,” said the queen, “has
broken my heart by her prayers and tears.”
King Alcinous said: “Æetes is strong, and although his kingdom is far
from ours, he can bring war upon us.” But still Arete pleaded with him to
protect Medea from the Colchians. Alcinous went within; he raised up Medea
from where she crouched on the floor of the palace, and he promised her
that the Argonauts would be protected in his city.
Then the king mounted his chariot; Medea went with him, and they came
down to the seashore where the heroes had made their encampment. The
Argonauts and the Colchians were drawn up against each other, and the
Colchians far outnumbered the wearied heroes.
Alcinous drove his chariot between the two armies. The Colchians prayed
him to have the strangers make surrender to them. But the king drove his
chariot to where the heroes stood, and he took the hand of each, and
received them as his guests. Then the Colchians knew that they might not
make war upon the heroes. They drew off. The next day they marched away.
It was a rich land that they had come to. Once Aristæus dwelt there, the
king who discovered how to make bees store up their honey for men and how
to make the good olive grow. Macris, his daughter, tended Dionysus, the
son of Zeus, when Hermes brought him of the flame, and moistened his lips
with honey. She tended him in a cave in the Phæacian land, and ever
afterward the Phæacians were blessed with all good things.
Now as the heroes marched to the palace of King Alcinous the people came
to meet them, bringing them sheep and calves and jars of wine and honey.
The women brought them fresh garments; to Medea they gave fine linen and
golden ornaments.
Amongst the Phæacians who loved music and games and the telling of
stories the heroes stayed for long. There were dances, and to the
Phæacians who honored him as a god, Orpheus played upon his lyre. And
every day, for the seven days that they stayed amongst them, the Phæacians
brought rich presents to the heroes.
And Medea, looking into the clear eyes of Queen Arete, knew that she was
the woman of whom Circe had prophesied, the woman who knew nothing of
enchantments, but who had much human wisdom. She was to ask of her what
she was to do in her life and what she was to leave undone. And what this
woman told her Medea was to regard. Arete told her that she was to forget
all the witcheries and enchantments that she knew, and that she was never
to practice against the life of any one. This she told Medea upon the
shore, before Jason lifted her aboard the _Argo_.
VII. They Come to the Desert Land
[Decorative first letter]
_A_ND now with sail spread wide the _Argo_ went on, and the heroes rested
at the oars. The wind grew stronger. It became a great blast, and for nine
days and nine nights the ship was driven fearfully along.
The blast drove them into the Gulf of Libya, from whence there is no
return for ships. On each side of the gulf there are rocks and shoals, and
the sea runs toward the limitless sand. On the top of a mighty tide the
_Argo_ was lifted, and she was flung high up on the desert sands.
A flood tide such as might not come again for long left the Argonauts on
the empty Libyan land. And when they came forth and saw that vast level of
sand stretching like a mist away into the distance, a deadly fear came
over each of them. No spring of water could they descry; no path; no
herdsman’s cabin; over all that vast land there was silence and dead calm.
And one said to the other: “What land is this? Whither have we come? Would
that the tempest had overwhelmed us, or would that we had lost the ship
and our lives between the Clashing Rocks at the time when we were making
our way into the Sea of Pontus.”
And the helmsman, looking before him, said with a breaking heart: “Out
of this we may not come, even should the breeze blow from the land, for
all around us are shoals and sharp rocks—rocks that we can see fretting
the water, line upon line. Our ship would have been shattered far from the
shore if the tide had not borne her far up on the sand. But now the tide
rushes back toward the sea, leaving only foam on which no ship can sail to
cover the sand. And so all hope of our return is cut off.”
He spoke with tears flowing upon his cheeks, and all who had knowledge
of ships agreed with what the helmsman had said. No dangers that they had
been through were as terrible as this. Hopelessly, like lifeless specters,
the heroes strayed about the endless strand.
They embraced each other and they said farewell as they laid down upon
the sand that might blow upon them and overwhelm them in the night. They
wrapped their heads in their cloaks, and, fasting, they laid themselves
down.
Jason crouched beside the ship, so troubled that his life nearly went
from him. He saw Medea huddled against a rock and with her hair streaming
on the sand. He saw the men who, with all the bravery of their lives, had
come with him, stretched on the desert sand, weary and without hope. He
thought that they, the best of men, might die in this desert with their
deeds all unknown; he thought that he might never win home with Medea, to
make her his queen in Iolcus.
He lay against the side of the ship, his cloak wrapped around his head.
And there death would have come to him and to the others if the nymphs of
the desert had been unmindful of these brave men. They came to Jason. It
was midday then, and the fierce rays of the sun were scorching all Libya.
They drew off the cloak that wrapped his head; they stood near him, three
nymphs girded around with goatskins.
“Why art thou so smitten with despair?” the nymphs said to Jason. “Why
art thou smitten with despair, thou who hast wrought so much and hast won
so much? Up! Arouse thy comrades! We are the solitary nymphs, the warders
of the land of Libya, and we have come to show a way of escape to you, the
Argonauts.
“Look around and watch for the time when Poseidon’s great horse shall be
unloosed. Then make ready to pay recompense to the mother that bore you
all. What she did for you all, that you all must do for her; by doing it
you will win back to the land of Greece.” Jason heard them say these words
and then he saw them no more; the nymphs vanished amongst the desert
mounds.
[Illustration]
Then Jason rose up. He did not know what to make out of what had been
told him, but there was courage now and hope in his heart. He shouted; his
voice was like the roar of a lion calling to his mate. At his shout his
comrades roused themselves; all squalid with the dust of the desert the
Argonauts stood around him.
“Listen, comrades, to me,” Jason said, “while I speak of a strange thing
that has befallen me. While I lay by the side of our ship three nymphs
came before me. With light hands they drew away the cloak that wrapped my
head. They declared themselves to be the solitary nymphs, the warders, of
Libya. Very strange were the words they said to me. When Poseidon’s great
horse shall be unloosed, they said, we were to make the mother of us all a
recompense, doing for her what she had done for us all. This the nymphs
told me to say, but I cannot understand the meaning of their words.”
There were some there who would not have given heed to Jason’s words,
deeming them words without meaning. But even as he spoke a wonder came
before their eyes. Out of the far-off sea a great horse leaped. Vast he
was of size and he had a golden mane. He shook the spray of the sea off
his sides and mane. Past them he trampled and away toward the horizon,
leaving great tracks in the sand.
Then Nestor spoke rejoicingly. “Behold the great horse! It is the horse
that the desert nymphs spoke of, Poseidon’s horse. Even now has the horse
been unloosed, and now is the time to do what the nymphs bade us do.
“Who but _Argo_ is the mother of us all? She has carried us. Now we must
make her a recompense and carry her even as she carried us. With untiring
shoulders we must bear _Argo_ across this great desert.
“And whither shall we bear her? Whither but along the tracks that
Poseidon’s horse has left in the sand! Poseidon’s horse will not go under
the earth—once again he will plunge into the sea!”
So Nestor said and the Argonauts saw truth in his saying. Hope came to
them again—the hope of leaving that desert and coming to the sea. Surely
when they came to the sea again, and spread the sail and held the oars in
their hands, their sacred ship would make swift course to their native
land!
VIII. The Carrying of the Argo
[Decorative first letter]
_W_ITH the terrible weight of the ship upon their shoulders the Argonauts
made their way across the desert, following the tracks of Poseidon’s
golden-maned horse. Like a wounded serpent that drags with pain its length
along, they went day after day across that limitless land.
A day came when they saw the great tracks of the horse no more. A wind
had come up and had covered them with sand. With the mighty weight of the
ship upon their shoulders, with the sun beating upon their heads, and with
no marks on the desert to guide them, the heroes stood there, and it
seemed to them that the blood must gush up and out of their hearts.
[Illustration]
Then Zetes and Calais, sons of the North Wind, rose up upon their wings
to strive to get sight of the sea. Up, up, they soared. And then as a man
sees, or thinks he sees, at the month’s beginning, the moon through a bank
of clouds, Zetes and Calais, looking over the measureless land, saw the
gleam of water. They shouted to the Argonauts; they marked the way for
them, and wearily, but with good hearts, the heroes went upon the way.
They came at last to the shore of what seemed to be a wide inland sea.
They set _Argo_ down from off their over-wearied shoulders and they let
her keel take water once more.
All salt and brackish was that water; they dipped their hands into and
tasted the salt. Orpheus was able to name the water they had come to; it
was that lake that was called after Triton, the son of Nereus, the ancient
one of the sea. They set up an altar and they made sacrifices in
thanksgiving to the gods.
They had come to water at last, but now they had to seek for other
water—for the sweet water that they could drink. All around them they
looked, but they saw no sign of a spring. And then they felt a wind blow
upon them—a wind that had in it not the dust of the desert but the
fragrance of growing things. Toward where that wind blew from they went.
As they went on they saw a great shape against the sky; they saw
mountainous shoulders bowed. Orpheus bade them halt and turn their faces
with reverence toward that great shape: for this was Atlas the Titan, the
brother of Prometheus, who stood there to hold up the sky on his
shoulders.
Then they were near the place that the fragrance had blown from: there
was a garden there; the only fence that ran around it was a lattice of
silver. “Surely there are springs in the garden,” the Argonauts said. “We
will enter this fair garden now and slake our thirst.”
Orpheus bade them walk reverently, for all around them, he said, was
sacred ground. This garden was the Garden of the Hesperides that was
watched over by the Daughters of the Evening Land. The Argonauts looked
through the silver lattice; they saw trees with lovely fruit, and they saw
three maidens moving through the garden with watchful eyes. In this garden
grew the tree that had the golden apples that Zeus gave to Hera as a
wedding gift.
They saw the tree on which the golden apples grew. The maidens went to
it and then looked watchfully all around them. They saw the faces of the
Argonauts looking through the silver lattice and they cried out, one to
the other, and they joined their hands around the tree.
But Orpheus called to them, and the maidens understood the divine speech
of Orpheus. He made the Daughters of the Evening Land know that they who
stood before the lattice were men who reverenced the gods, who would not
strive to enter the forbidden garden. The maidens came toward them.
Beautiful as the singing of Orpheus was their utterance, but what they
said was a complaint and a lament.
Their lament was for the dragon Ladon, that dragon with a hundred heads
that guarded sleeplessly the tree that had the golden apples. Now that
dragon was slain. With arrows that had been dipped in the poison of the
Hydra’s blood their dragon, Ladon, had been slain.
The Daughters of the Evening Land sang of how a mortal had come into the
garden that they watched over. He had a great bow, and with his arrow he
slew the dragon that guarded the golden apples. The golden apples he had
taken away; they had come back to the tree they had been plucked from, for
no mortal might keep them in his possession. So the maidens sang—Hespere,
Eretheis, and Ægle—and they complained that now, unhelped by the
hundred-headed dragon, they had to keep guard over the tree.
The Argonauts knew of whom they told the tale—Heracles, their comrade.
Would that Heracles were with them now!
The Hesperides told them of Heracles—of how the springs in the garden
dried up because of his plucking the golden apples. He came out of the
garden thirsting. Nowhere could he find a spring of water. To yonder great
rock he went. He smote it with his foot and water came out in full flow.
Then he, leaning on his hands and with his chest upon the ground, drank
and drank from the water that flowed from the rifted rock.
The Argonauts looked to where the rock stood. They caught the sound of
water. They carried Medea over. And then, company after company, all
huddled together, they stooped down and drank their fill of the clear good
water. With lips wet with the water they cried to each other, “Heracles!
Although he is not with us, in very truth Heracles has saved his comrades
from deadly thirst!”
They saw his footsteps printed upon the rocks, and they followed them
until they led to the sand where no footsteps stay. Heracles! How glad his
comrades would have been if they could have had sight of him then! But it
was long ago—before he had sailed with them—that Heracles had been here.
Still hearing their complaint they turned back to the lattice, to where
the Daughters of the Evening Land stood. The Daughters of the Evening Land
bent their heads to listen to what the Argonauts told one another, and,
seeing them bent to listen, Orpheus told a story about one who had gone
across the Libyan desert, about one who was a hero like unto Heracles.
The Story of Perseus
Beyond where Atlas stands there is a cave where the strange women, the
ancient daughters of Phorcys, live. They have been gray from their birth.
They have but one eye and one tooth between them, and they pass the eye
and the tooth, one to the other, when they would see or eat. They are
called the Graiai, these two sisters.
Up to the cave where they lived a youth once came. He was beardless, and
the garb he wore was torn and travel-stained, but he had shapeliness and
beauty. In his leathern belt there was an exceedingly bright sword; this
sword was not straight like the swords we carry, but it was hooked like a
sickle. The strange youth with the bright, strange sword came very quickly
and very silently up to the cave where the Graiai lived and looked over a
high boulder into it.
One was sitting munching acorns with the single tooth. The other had the
eye in her hand. She was holding it to her forehead and looking into the
back of the cave. These two ancient women, with their gray hair falling
over them like thick fleeces, and with faces that were only forehead and
cheeks and nose and mouth, were strange creatures truly. Very silently the
youth stood looking at them.
“Sister, sister,” cried the one who was munching acorns, “sister, turn
your eye this way. I heard the stir of something.”
The other turned, and with the eye placed against her forehead looked
out to the opening of the cave. The youth drew back behind the boulder.
“Sister, sister, there is nothing there,” said the one with the eye.
Then she said: “Sister, give me the tooth for I would eat my acorns.
Take the eye and keep watch.”
The one who was eating held out the tooth, and the one who was watching
held out the eye. The youth darted into the cave. Standing between the
eyeless sisters, he took with one hand the tooth and with the other the
eye.
“Sister, sister, have you taken the eye?”
“I have not taken the eye. Have you taken the tooth?”
“I have not taken the tooth.”
“Some one has taken the eye, and some one has taken the tooth.”
They stood together, and the youth watched their blinking faces as they
tried to discover who had come into the cave, and who had taken the eye
and the tooth.
Then they said, screaming together: “Who ever has taken the eye and the
tooth from the Graiai, the ancient daughters of Phorcys, may Mother Night
smother him.”
The youth spoke. “Ancient daughters of Phorcys,” he said, “Graiai, I
would not rob from you. I have come to your cave only to ask the way to a
place.”
“Ah, it is a mortal, a mortal,” screamed the sisters. “Well, mortal,
what would you have from the Graiai?”
“Ancient Graiai,” said the youth, “I would have you tell me, for you
alone know, where the nymphs dwell who guard the three magic treasures—the
cap of darkness, the shoes of flight, and the magic pouch.”
“We will not tell you, we will not tell you that,” screamed the two
ancient sisters.
[Illustration]
“I will keep the eye and the tooth,” said the youth, “and I will give
them to one who will help me.”
“Give me the eye and I will tell you,” said one. “Give me the tooth and
I will tell you,” said the other. The youth put the eye in the hand of one
and the tooth in the hand of the other, but he held their skinny hands in
his strong hands until they should tell him where the nymphs dwelt who
guarded the magic treasures. The Gray Ones told him. Then the youth with
the bright sword left the cave. As he went out he saw on the ground a
shield of bronze, and he took it with him.
To the other side of where Atlas stands he went. There he came upon the
nymphs in their valley. They had long dwelt there, hidden from gods and
men, and they were startled to see a stranger youth come into their hidden
valley. They fled away. Then the youth sat on the ground, his head bent
like a man who is very sorrowful.
The youngest and the fairest of the nymphs came to him at last. “Why
have you come, and why do you sit here in such great trouble, youth?” said
she. And then she said: “What is this strange sickle-sword that you wear?
Who told you the way to our dwelling place? What name have you?”
“I have come here,” said the youth, and he took the bronze shield upon
his knees and began to polish it, “I have come here because I want you,
the nymphs who guard them, to give to me the cap of darkness and the shoes
of flight and the magic pouch. I must gain these things; without them I
must go to my death. Why I must gain them you will know from my story.”
When he said that he had come for the three magic treasures that they
guarded, the kind nymph was more startled than she and her sisters had
been startled by the appearance of the strange youth in their hidden
valley. She turned away from him. But she looked again and she saw that he
was beautiful and brave looking. He had spoken of his death. The nymph
stood looking at him pitifully, and the youth, with the bronze shield laid
beside his knees and the strange hooked sword lying across it, told her
his story.
“I am Perseus,” he said, “and my grandfather, men say, is king in Argos.
His name is Acrisius. Before I was born a prophecy was made to him that
the son of Danaë, his daughter, would slay him. Acrisius was frightened by
the prophecy, and when I was born he put my mother and myself into a
chest, and he sent us adrift upon the waves of the sea.
“I did not know what a terrible peril I was in, for I was an infant
newly born. My mother was so hopeless that she came near to death. But the
wind and the waves did not destroy us: they brought us to a shore; a
shepherd found the chest, and he opened it and brought my mother and
myself out of it alive. The land we had come to was Seriphus. The shepherd
who found the chest and who rescued my mother and myself was the brother
of the king. His name was Dictys.
“In the shepherd’s wattled house my mother stayed with me, a little
infant, and in that house I grew from babyhood to childhood, and from
childhood to boyhood. He was a kind man, this shepherd Dictys. His brother
Polydectes had put him away from the palace, but Dictys did not grieve for
that, for he was happy minding his sheep upon the hillside, and he was
happy in his little hut of wattles and clay.
“Polydectes, the king, was seldom spoken to about his brother, and it
was years before he knew of the mother and child who had been brought to
live in Dictys’s hut. But at last he heard of us, for strange things began
to be said about my mother—how she was beautiful, and how she looked like
one who had been favored by the gods. Then one day when he was hunting,
Polydectes the king came to the hut of Dictys the shepherd.
“He saw Danaë, my mother, there. By her looks he knew that she was a
king’s daughter and one who had been favored by the gods. He wanted her
for his wife. But my mother hated this harsh and overbearing king, and she
would not wed with him. Often he came storming around the shepherd’s hut,
and at last my mother had to take refuge from him in a temple. There she
became the priestess of the goddess.
“I was taken to the palace of Polydectes, and there I was brought up.
The king still stormed around where my mother was, more and more bent on
making her marry him. If she had not been in the temple where she was
under the protection of the goddess he would have wed her against her
will.
“But I was growing up now, and I was able to give some protection to my
mother. My arm was a strong one, and Polydectes knew that if he wronged my
mother in any way, I had the will and the power to be deadly to him. One
day I heard him say before his princes and his lords that he would wed,
and would wed one who was not Danaë. I was overjoyed to hear him say this.
He asked the lords and the princes to come to the wedding feast; they
declared they would, and they told him of the presents they would bring.
“Then King Polydectes turned to me and he asked me to come to the
wedding feast. I said I would come. And then, because I was young and full
of the boast of youth, and because the king was now ceasing to be a terror
to me, I said that I would bring to his wedding feast the head of the
Gorgon.
“The king smiled when he heard me say this, but he smiled not as a good
man smiles when he hears the boast of youth. He smiled, and he turned to
the princes and lords, and he said: ‘Perseus will come, and he will bring
a greater gift than any of you, for he will bring the head of her whose
gaze turns living creatures into stone.’
“When I heard the king speak so grimly about my boast the fearfulness of
the thing I had spoken of doing came over me. I thought for an instant
that the Gorgon’s head appeared before me, and that I was then and there
turned into stone.
“The day of the wedding feast came. I came and I brought no gift. I
stood with my head hanging for shame. Then the princes and the lords came
forward, and they showed the great gifts of horses that they had brought.
I thought that the king would forget about me and about my boast. And then
I heard him call my name. ‘Perseus,’ he said, ‘Perseus, bring before us
now the Gorgon’s head that, as you told us, you would bring for the
wedding gift.’
“The princes and lords and people looked toward me, and I was filled
with a deeper shame. I had to say that I had failed to bring a present.
Then that harsh and overbearing king shouted at me. ‘Go forth,’ he said,
‘go forth and fetch the present that you spoke of. If you do not bring it
remain forever out of my country, for in Seriphus we will have no empty
boasters.’ The lords and the princes applauded what the king said; the
people were sad for me and sad for my mother, but they might not do
anything to help me, so just and so due to me did the words of the king
seem. There was no help for it, and I had to go from the country of
Seriphus, leaving my mother at the mercy of Polydectes.
“I bade good-by to my sorrowful mother and I went from Seriphus—from
that land that I might not return to without the Gorgon’s head. I traveled
far from that country. One day I sat down in a lonely place and prayed to
the gods that my strength might be equal to the will that now moved in
me—the will to take the Gorgon’s head, and take from my name the shame of
a broken promise, and win back to Seriphus to save my mother from the
harshness of the king.
“When I looked up I saw one standing before me. He was a youth, too, but
I knew by the way he moved, and I knew by the brightness of his face and
eyes, that he was of the immortals. I raised my hands in homage to him,
and he came near me. ‘Perseus,’ he said, ‘if you have the courage to
strive, the way to win the Gorgon’s head will be shown you.’ I said that I
had the courage to strive, and he knew that I was making no boast.
“He gave me this bright sickle-sword that I carry. He told me by what
ways I might come near enough to the Gorgons without being turned into
stone by their gaze. He told me how I might slay the one of the three
Gorgons who was not immortal, and how, having slain her, I might take her
head and flee without being torn to pieces by her sister Gorgons.
“Then I knew that I should have to come on the Gorgons from the air. I
knew that having slain the one that could be slain I should have to fly
with the speed of the wind. And I knew that that speed even would not save
me—I should have to be hidden in my flight. To win the head and save
myself I would need three magic things—the shoes of flight and the magic
pouch, and the dogskin cap of Hades that makes its wearer invisible.
“The youth said: ‘The magic pouch and the shoes of flight and the
dogskin cap of Hades are in the keeping of the nymphs whose dwelling place
no mortal knows. I may not tell you where their dwelling place is. But
from the Gray Ones, from the ancient daughters of Phorcys who live in a
cave near where Atlas stands, you may learn where their dwelling place
is.’
“Thereupon he told me how I might come to the Graiai, and how I might
get them to tell me where you, the nymphs, had your dwelling. The one who
spoke to me was Hermes, whose dwelling is on Olympus. By this sickle-sword
that he gave me you will know that I speak the truth.”
Perseus ceased speaking, and she who was the youngest and fairest of the
nymphs came nearer to him. She knew that he spoke truthfully, and besides
she had pity for the youth. “But we are the keepers of the magic
treasures,” she said, “and some one whose need is greater even than yours
may some time require them from us. But will you swear that you will bring
the magic treasures back to us when you have slain the Gorgon and have
taken her head?”
Perseus declared that he would bring the magic treasures back to the
nymphs and leave them once more in their keeping. Then the nymph who had
compassion for him called to the others. They spoke together while Perseus
stayed far away from them, polishing his shield of bronze. At last the
nymph who had listened to him came back, the others following her. They
brought to Perseus and they put into his hands the things they had
guarded—the cap made from dogskin that had been brought up out of Hades, a
pair of winged shoes, and a long pouch that he could hang across his
shoulder.
And so with the shoes of flight and the cap of darkness and the magic
pouch, Perseus went to seek the Gorgons. The sickle-sword that Hermes gave
him was at his side, and on his arm he held the bronze shield that was now
well polished.
He went through the air, taking a way that the nymphs had shown him. He
came to Oceanus that was the rim around the world. He saw forms that were
of living creatures all in stone, and he knew that he was near the place
where the Gorgons had their lair.
Then, looking upon the surface of his polished shield, he saw the
Gorgons below him. Two were covered with hard serpent scales; they had
tusks that were long and were like the tusks of boars, and they had hands
of gleaming brass and wings of shining gold. Still looking upon the
shining surface of his shield Perseus went down and down. He saw the third
sister—she who was not immortal. She had a woman’s face and form, and her
countenance was beautiful, although there was something deadly in its
fairness. The two scaled and winged sisters were asleep, but the third,
Medusa, was awake, and she was tearing with her hands a lizard that had
come near her.
Upon her head was a tangle of serpents all with heads raised as though
they were hissing. Still looking into the mirror of his shield Perseus
came down and over Medusa. He turned his head away from her. Then, with a
sweep of the sickle-sword he took her head off. There was no scream from
the Gorgon, but the serpents upon her head hissed loudly.
Still with his face turned from it he lifted up the head by its tangle
of serpents. He put it into the magic pouch. He rose up in the air. But
now the Gorgon sisters were awake. They had heard the hiss of Medusa’s
serpents, and now they looked upon her headless body. They rose up on
their golden wings, and their brazen hands were stretched out to tear the
one who had slain Medusa. As they flew after him they screamed aloud.
Although he flew like the wind the Gorgon sisters would have overtaken
him if he had been plain to their eyes. But the dogskin cap of Hades saved
him, for the Gorgon sisters did not know whether he was above or below
them, behind or before them. On Perseus went, flying toward where Atlas
stood. He flew over this place, over Libya. Drops of blood from Medusa’s
head fell down upon the desert. They were changed and became the deadly
serpents that are on these sands and around these rocks. On and on Perseus
flew toward Atlas and toward the hidden valley where the nymphs who were
again to guard the magic treasures had their dwelling place. But before he
came to the nymphs Perseus had another adventure.
In Ethopia, which is at the other side of Libya, there ruled a king
whose name was Cepheus. This king had permitted his queen to boast that
she was more beautiful than the nymphs of the sea. In punishment for the
queen’s impiety and for the king’s folly Poseidon sent a monster out of
the sea to waste that country. Every year the monster came, destroying
more and more of the country of Ethopia. Then the king asked of an oracle
what he should do to save his land and his people. The oracle spoke of a
dreadful thing that he would have to do—he would have to sacrifice his
daughter, the beautiful Princess Andromeda.
The king was forced by his savage people to take the maiden Andromeda
and chain her to a rock on the seashore, leaving her there for the monster
to devour her, satisfying himself with that prey.
Perseus, flying near, heard the maiden’s laments. He saw her lovely body
bound with chains to the rock. He came near her, taking the cap of
darkness off his head. She saw him, and she bent her head in shame, for
she thought that he would think that it was for some dreadful fault of her
own that she had been left chained in that place.
Her father had stayed near. Perseus saw him, and called to him, and bade
him tell why the maiden was chained to the rock. The king told Perseus of
the sacrifice that he had been forced to make. Then Perseus came near the
maiden, and he saw how she looked at him with pleading eyes.
Then Perseus made her father promise that he would give Andromeda to him
for his wife if he should slay the sea monster. Gladly Cepheus promised
this. Then Perseus once again drew his sickle-sword; by the rock to which
Andromeda was still chained he waited for sight of the sea monster.
[Illustration]
Perseus and Andromeda
It came rolling in from the open sea, a shapeless and unsightly thing.
With the shoes of flight upon his feet Perseus rose above it. The monster
saw his shadow upon the water, and savagely it went to attack the shadow.
Perseus swooped down as an eagle swoops down; with his sickle-sword he
attacked it, and he struck the hook through the monster’s shoulder.
Terribly it reared up from the sea. Perseus rose over it, escaping its
wide-opened mouth with its treble rows of fangs. Again he swooped and
struck at it. Its hide was covered all over with hard scales and with the
shells of sea things, but Perseus’s sword struck through it. It reared up
again, spouting water mixed with blood. On a rock near the rock that
Andromeda was chained to Perseus alighted. The monster, seeing him,
bellowed and rushed swiftly through the water to overwhelm him. As it
reared up he plunged the sword again and again into its body. Down into
the water the monster sank, and water mixed with blood was spouted up from
the depths into which it sank.
Then was Andromeda loosed from her chains. Perseus, the conqueror,
lifted up the fainting maiden and carried her back to the king’s palace.
And Cepheus there renewed his promise to give her in marriage to her
deliverer.
Perseus went on his way. He came to the hidden valley where the nymphs
had their dwelling place, and he restored to them the three magic
treasures that they had given him—the cap of darkness, the shoes of
flight, and the magic pouch. And these treasures are still there, and the
hero who can win his way to the nymphs may have them as Perseus had them.
Again he returned to the place where he had found Andromeda chained.
With face averted he drew forth the Gorgon’s head from where he had hidden
it between the rocks. He made a bag for it out of the horny skin of the
monster he had slain. Then, carrying his tremendous trophy, he went to the
palace of King Cepheus to claim his bride.
Now before her father had thought of sacrificing her to the sea monster
he had offered Andromeda in marriage to a prince of Ethopia—to a prince
whose name was Phineus. Phineus did not strive to save Andromeda. But,
hearing that she had been delivered from the monster, he came to take her
for his wife; he came to Cepheus’s palace, and he brought with him a
thousand armed men.
The palace of Cepheus was filled with armed men when Perseus entered it.
He saw Andromeda on a raised place in the hall. She was pale as when she
was chained to the rock, and when she saw him in the palace she uttered a
cry of gladness.
Cepheus, the craven king, would have let him who had come with the armed
bands take the maiden. Perseus came beside Andromeda and he made his
claim. Phineus spoke insolently to him, and then he urged one of his
captains to strike Perseus down. Many sprang forward to attack him. Out of
the bag Perseus drew Medusa’s head. He held it before those who were
bringing strife into the hall. They were turned to stone. One of Cepheus’s
men wished to defend Perseus: he struck at the captain who had come near;
his sword made a clanging sound as it struck this one who had looked upon
Medusa’s head.
Perseus went from the land of Ethopia taking fair Andromeda with him.
They went into Greece, for he had thought of going to Argos, to the
country that his grandfather ruled over. At this very time Acrisius got
tidings of Danaë and her son, and he knew that they had not perished on
the waves of the sea. Fearful of the prophecy that told he would be slain
by his grandson and fearing that he would come to Argos to seek him,
Acrisius fled out of his country.
He came into Thessaly. Perseus and Andromeda were there. Now, one day
the old king was brought to games that were being celebrated in honor of a
dead hero. He was leaning on his staff, watching a youth throw a metal
disk, when something in that youth’s appearance made him want to watch him
more closely. About him there was something of a being of the upper air;
it made Acrisius think of a brazen tower and of a daughter whom he had
shut up there.
He moved so that he might come nearer to the disk-thrower. But as he
left where he had been standing he came into the line of the thrown disk.
It struck the old man on the temple. He fell down dead, and as he fell the
people cried out his name—“Acrisius, King Acrisius!” Then Perseus knew
whom the disk, thrown by his hand, had slain.
And because he had slain the king by chance Perseus would not go to
Argos, nor take over the kingdom that his grandfather had reigned over.
With Andromeda he went to Seriphus where his mother was. And in Seriphus
there still reigned Polydectes, who had put upon him the terrible task of
winning the Gorgon’s head.
He came to Seriphus and he left Andromeda in the hut of Dictys the
shepherd. No one knew him; he heard his name spoken of as that of a youth
who had gone on a foolish quest and who would never again be heard of. To
the temple where his mother was a priestess he came. Guards were placed
all around it. He heard his mother’s voice and it was raised in lament:
“Walled up here and given over to hunger I shall be made go to
Polydectes’s house and become his wife. O ye gods, have ye no pity for
Danaë, the mother of Perseus?”
Perseus cried aloud, and his mother heard his voice and her moans
ceased. He turned around and he went to the palace of Polydectes, the
king.
The king received him with mockeries. “I will let you stay in Seriphus
for a day,” he said, “because I would have you at a marriage feast. I have
vowed that Danaë, taken from the temple where she sulks, will be my wife
by to-morrow’s sunset.”
[Illustration]
So Polydectes said, and the lords and princes who were around him mocked
at Perseus and flattered the king. Perseus went from them then. The next
day he came back to the palace. But in his hands now there was a dread
thing—the bag made from the hide of the sea monster that had in it the
Gorgon’s head.
He saw his mother. She was brought in white and fainting, thinking that
she would now have to wed the harsh and overbearing king. Then she saw her
son, and hope came into her face.
The king seeing Perseus, said: “Step forward, O youngling, and see your
mother wed to a mighty man. Step forward to witness a marriage, and then
depart, for it is not right that a youth that makes promises and does not
keep them should stay in a land that I rule over. Step forward now, you
with the empty hands.”
But not with empty hands did Perseus step forward. He shouted out: “I
have brought something to you at last, O king—a present to you and your
mocking friends. But you, O my mother, and you, O my friends, avert your
faces from what I have brought.” Saying this Perseus drew out the Gorgon’s
head. Holding it by the snaky locks he stood before the company. His
mother and his friends averted their faces. But Polydectes and his
insolent friends looked full upon what Perseus showed. “This youth would
strive to frighten us with some conjuror’s trick,” they said. They said no
more, for they became as stones, and as stone images they still stand in
that hall in Seriphus.
He went to the shepherd’s hut, and he brought Dictys from it with
Andromeda. Dictys he made king in Polydectes’s stead. Then with Danaë and
Andromeda, his mother and his wife, he went from Seriphus.
He did not go to Argos, the country that his grandfather had ruled over,
although the people there wanted Perseus to come to them, and be king over
them. He took the kingdom of Tiryns in exchange for that of Argos, and
there he lived with Andromeda, his lovely wife out of Ethopia. They had a
son named Perses who became the parent of the Persian people.
The sickle-sword that had slain the Gorgon went back to Hermes, and
Hermes took Medusa’s head also. That head Hermes’s divine sister set upon
her shield—Medusa’s head upon the shield of Pallas Athene. O may Pallas
Athene guard us all, and bring us out of this land of sands and stone
where are the deadly serpents that have come from the drops of blood that
fell from the Gorgon’s head!
They turned away from the Garden of the Daughters of the Evening Land.
The Argonauts turned from where the giant shape of Atlas stood against the
sky and they went toward the Tritonian Lake. But not all of them reached
the _Argo_. On his way back to the ship, Nauplius, the helmsman, met his
death.
A sluggish serpent was in his way—it was not a serpent that would strike
at one who turned from it. Nauplius trod upon it, and the serpent lifted
its head up and bit his foot. They raised him on their shoulders and they
hurried back with him. But his limbs became numb, and when they laid him
down on the shore of the lake he stayed moveless. Soon he grew cold. They
dug a grave for Nauplius beside the lake, and in that desert land they set
up his helmsman’s oar in the middle of his tomb of heaped stones.
And now like a snake that goes writhing this way and that way and that
cannot find the cleft in the rock that leads to its lair, the _Argo_ went
hither and thither striving to find an outlet from that lake. No outlet
could they find and the way of their homegoing seemed lost to them again.
Then Orpheus prayed to the son of Nereus, to Triton, whose name was on
that lake, to aid them.
Then Triton appeared. He stretched out his hand and showed them the
outlet to the sea. And Triton spoke in friendly wise to the heroes,
bidding them go upon their way in joy. “And as for labor,” he said, “let
there be no grieving because of that, for limbs that have youthful vigor
should still toil.”
They took up the oars and they pulled toward the sea, and Triton, the
friendly immortal, helped them on. He laid hold upon _Argo’s_ keel and he
guided her through the water. The Argonauts saw him beneath the water; his
body, from his head down to his waist, was fair and great and like to the
body of one of the other immortals. But below his body was like a great
fish’s, forking this way and that. He moved with fins that were like the
horns of the new moon. Triton helped _Argo_ along until they came into the
open sea. Then he plunged down into the abyss. The heroes shouted their
thanks to him. Then they looked at each other and embraced each other with
joy, for the sea that touched upon the land of Greece was open before
them.
IX. Near to Iolcus Again
[Decorative first letter]
_T_HE sun sank; then that star came that bids the shepherd bring his flock
to the fold, that brings the wearied plowman to his rest. But no rest did
that star bring to the Argonauts. The breeze that filled the sail died
down; they furled the sail and lowered the mast; then, once again, they
pulled at the oars. All night they rowed, and all day, and again when the
next day came on. Then they saw the island that is halfway to Greece—the
great and fair island of Crete.
It was Theseus who first saw Crete—Theseus who was to come to Crete upon
another ship. They drew the _Argo_ near the great island; they wanted
water, and they were fain to rest there.
Minos, the great king, ruled over Crete. He left the guarding of the
island to one of the race of bronze, to Talos, who had lived on after the
rest of the bronze men had been destroyed. Thrice a day would Talos stride
around the island; his brazen feet were tireless.
Now Talos saw the _Argo_ drawing near. He took up great rocks and he
hurled them at the heroes, and very quickly they had to draw their ship
out of range.
They were wearied and their thirst was consuming them. But still that
bronze man stood there ready to sink their ship with the great rocks that
he took up in his hands. Medea stood forward upon the ship, ready to use
her spells against the man of bronze.
In body and limbs he was made of bronze and in these he was
invulnerable. But beneath a sinew in his ankle there was a vein that ran
up to his neck and that was covered by a thin skin. If that vein were
broken Talos would perish.
Medea did not know about this vein when she stood forward upon the ship
to use her spells against him. Upon a cliff of Crete, all gleaming, stood
that huge man of bronze. Then, as she was ready to fling her spells
against him, Medea thought upon the words that Arete, the wise queen, had
given her—that she was not to use spells and not to practice against the
life of any one.
But she knew that there was no impiety in using spells and practicing
against Talos, for Zeus had already doomed all his race. She stood upon
the ship, and with her Magic Song she enchanted him. He whirled round and
round. He struck his ankle against a jutting stone. The vein broke, and
that which was the blood of the bronze man flowed out of him like molten
lead. He stood towering upon the cliff. Like a pine upon a mountaintop
that the woodman had left half hewn through and that a mighty wind pitches
against, Talos stood upon his tireless feet, swaying to and fro. Then,
emptied of all his strength, Minos’s man of bronze fell into the Cretan
Sea.
The heroes landed. That night they lay upon the land of Crete and rested
and refreshed themselves. When dawn came they drew water from a spring,
and once more they went on board the _Argo_.
A day came when the helmsman said, “To-morrow we shall see the shore of
Thessaly, and by sunset we shall be in the harbor of Pagasæ. Soon, O
voyagers, we shall be back in the city from which we went to gain the
Golden Fleece.”
Then Jason brought Medea to the front of the ship so that they might
watch together for Thessaly, the homeland. The Mountain Pelion came into
sight. Jason exulted as he looked upon that mountain; again he told Medea
about Chiron, the ancient centaur, and about the days of his youth in the
forests of Pelion.
The _Argo_ went on; the sun sank, and darkness came on. Never was there
darkness such as there was on that night. They called that night afterward
the Pall of Darkness. To the heroes upon the _Argo_ it seemed as if black
chaos had come over the world again; they knew not whether they were
adrift upon the sea or upon the River of Hades. No star pierced the
darkness nor no beam from the moon.
[Illustration]
After a night that seemed many nights the dawn came. In the sunrise they
saw the land of Thessaly with its mountain, its forests, and its fields.
They hailed each other as if they had met after a long parting. They
raised the mast and unfurled the sail.
But not toward Pagasæ did they go. For now the voice of _Argo_ came to
them, shaking their hearts: Jason and Orpheus, Castor and Polydeuces,
Zetes and Calais, Peleus and Telamon, Theseus, Admetus, Nestor, and
Atalanta, heard the cry of their ship. And the voice of _Argo_ warned them
not to go into the harbor of Pagasæ.
As they stood upon the ship, looking toward Iolcus, sorrow came over all
the heroes, such sorrow as made their hearts nearly break. For long they
stood there in utter numbness.
Then Admetus spoke—Admetus who was the happiest of all those who went in
quest of the Golden Fleece. “Although we may not go into the harbor of
Pagasæ, nor into the city of Iolcus,” Admetus said, “still we have come to
the land of Greece. There are other harbors and other cities that we may
go into. And in all the places that we go to we will be honored, for we
have gone through toils and dangers, and we have brought to Greece the
famous Fleece of Gold.”
So Admetus said, and their spirits came back again to the heroes—came
back to all of them save Jason. The rest had other cities to go to, and
fathers and mothers and friends to greet them in other places, but for
Jason there was only Iolcus.
Medea took his hand, and sorrow for him overcame her. For Medea could
divine what had happened in Iolcus and why it was that the heroes might
not go there.
It was to Corinth that the _Argo_ went. Creon, the king of Corinth,
welcomed them and gave great honor to the heroes who had faced such labors
and such dangers to bring the world’s wonder to Greece.
The Argonauts stayed together until they went to Calydon, to hunt the
boar that ravaged Prince Meleagrus’s country. After that they separated,
each one going to his own land. Jason came back to Corinth where Medea
stayed. And in Corinth he had tidings of the happenings in Iolcus.
King Pelias now ruled more fearfully in Iolcus, having brought down from
the mountains more and fiercer soldiers. And Æson, Jason’s father, and
Alcimide, his mother, were now dead, having been slain by King Pelias.
This Jason heard from men who came into Corinth from Thessaly. And
because of the great army that Pelias had gathered there, Jason might not
yet go into Iolcus, either to exact a vengeance, or to show the people THE
GOLDEN FLEECE that he had gone so far to gain.