John Gardner - Jason and Medeia

by my father’s sinister reply: ‘Go, join your company. You’ve shown your relish for the task. Be aware: if

you hesitate

to yoke those bulls, or shirk that deadly harvesting, I’ll take up the matter myself, in a manner calculated to make all other men shrink from coming and

troubling their betters.’

They left. My heart flew after them. He was

beautiful, I thought,

and already as good as dead. I was overwhelmed with

pity

and I fled to my room to weep. What did it mean, this

grief?

Hero or villain (and why did I care which?) the man was walking to his doom. Well, let him go! I had seen

men die

before, and would again. What matter? — But my sobs

grew fierce,

tearing my chest for a stranger! ‘And yet how I wish

he’d been spared,’

I moaned.‘—O sovereign Hekate, grant me my prayer!

Let him live

and return to his home. But goddess, if he must be

conquered by the bulls,

may he first learn that I, for one, will be far from glad

of it!’

The voice fell silent. I continued to listen in the

dark. Then:

“On the ship, her lean bows virled with silver, black

hull bruised

and cracked, resealed with oakum — the scars of narrow

escapes;

pounding of the stormwaves, battering of rocks — the

crew of the Argo

listened in silence to the water lapping, the bullfrogs

of the marsh.

“Then Melas spoke, my cousin, the boldest of

Phrixos’ sons—

bolder by far than my sister. ‘Lord Jason, I’ve a plan

to suggest.

You may not like it, but no expedient should be left

untried

in an emergency. You’ve heard me speak of Aietes’

daughter

Medeia, a witch, and priestess of Hekate. If we managed

to win

her help, we’d have nothing to fear. Let me sound my

mother out

and see if Medeia can be swayed.’ The son of Aison

laughed

(I forgive him that), and said, ‘Things are serious

indeed when the one

pale hope of the glorious Argonauts is a girl!’ All the

same,

he put it to the others. For a time they were silent in

impotent despair.

For all their power, there was no man there who could

yoke those oxen;

not even Idas was so far riven of his wits as to dream he might. Melas spoke again. ‘Do not underestimate Medeia. The goddess Hekate has taught her

extraordinary skill

with spells both black and white, and with all the

magic herbs

that grow on land or in water or climb on the walls

of caves.

She can put out a raging forest fire, stop rivers in spate, arrest a star, check even the movements of the moon.

My mother,

her sister, can make her our firm ally.’

“They wouldn’t have believed,

but the gods, who watch men enviously, deprived by

nature

of man’s potential for sorrow and joy, broke in on

the Argonauts’

helplessness with a sign. A dove pursued by a hawk dropped into Jason’s lap, while the hawk, with its

murderous speed,

was impaled on the mascot at the stem. Immediately

Mopsos spoke:

‘My lords, we’re in Aphrodite’s hands. The sign’s

unmistakable.

This gentle bird whose life was spared is Jason’s and

belongs

to her. Go, Melas, and speak with your mother.’

The Argonauts

applauded; and so it was decided. At once young Melas

set off.

“Poor Khalkiope! The princess was chilled to the

bone with fear.

Suppose Medeia should be shocked and, stiff with the

righteousness of youth,

tell all? Suppose, on the other hand, she agreed and,

aiding

the Argonauts, should be caught by that half-mad

wizard? — Either way

horror and shame and sorrow!

“Meanwhile Medeia lay

in her bed asleep, all cares forgotten — but not for long. Dreams soon assailed her, bleak nightmares of a soul

in pain.

She dreamed that the stranger had accepted the

challenge, but not in the hope

of winning the golden fleece: his plan was to carry

her away

to his home in the South as his bride. She dreamed

that she, Medeia,

was yoking the bulls of bronze. She found it easy work, pleasant as flying. She managed it almost listlessly. But when all was done, her father was enraged. The

brother she’d loved

past all other men stepped in. Old Aietes struck him

with a club,

then, horrified, broken, he gave the decision to her:

she could do

as she pleased. Without a moment’s thought, she turned

her back

on her father. Aietes screamed. And with the scream

she woke.

“She sat up, shivering with fright, and peered round

the walls of her room.

Slowly reality crept back, or something akin to reality: an airy dream she mistook for memory of Jason.

Why could

he not stay home, court Akhaian girls, torment the kings of Hellas, and leave poor Medeia alone to her

spinsterhood?

Tears sprang to her eyes; in one quick motion of mind and body, she leaped from her bed and, barefoot,

rushed to the door

and opened it. She would go to her sister — away with

this foolish

modesty! She crossed the threshold, but once outside, was uncertain, ashamed. She turned, went back into

her room again.

Again she came out, and again crept back. Three times

Medeia

tried, and three times failed. She clenched her fists

in fury

and threw herself face down on the bed and writhed

in pain.

Then, lying still, she was aware of the softness of her

breasts. She whispered

the stranger’s name, and at the magic word — more

powerful spell

than any she’d learned from Hekate — her tears came

flooding.

“Presently one of the servants, her own young maid,

came in

and, seeing Medeia in tears, ran swiftly to Khalkiope, who was sitting with Melas, considering how they might

best win Medeia’s

aid. When Khalkiope heard the girl’s story, she jumped

up, terrified,

and hurried to her sister. ‘Medeia!’ she cried, ‘what’s the

meaning of these tears?

Has Father told you some awful fate he’s decided on for my sons?’

“Medeia blushed. How hungry she was to give answer! But her heart was chained by shame. Ah, time and

again the truth

was there on the tip of her tongue, and time and

again she swallowed it.

Her lips moved; but no words came. Then her mind’s

eye

saw Jason gazing at the floor before Aietes, slyly

preparing

some answer to stall his wrath. Inspired by the image,

Medeia

brought out: ‘Oh, sister, I’m terrified for your sons. It

seems

our father will certainly kill them, and the strangers

with them. I had

a terrible vision just now, and I saw it all.’

“It was Khalkiope’s turn to weep. The tears ran

rivers down her cheeks.

Medeia furtively watched, her heart like a fluttering

bird. ‘

I knew it!’ Khalkiope gasped between sobs. ‘I’ve been

thinking the same.

That’s what brought me to your room. Dear Medeia, I

beg you to help me.

First, swear by earth and heaven you won’t tell a word

of what I say,

but will work with me to save them. By the blessed gods,

I implore you,

do not stand by while my precious children are

murdered! If you do,

may I be slain with them and afterward haunt you

from hell, an avenging fury!’

“With that she burst into tears once more, sank down,

and

throwing her arms round her sister’s knees and burying

her head