John Gardner - Jason and Medeia

never

have overcome the minotaur and made his way back through the Labyrinth. He bore Ariadne away with him when he’d met his test, and no other man ever praised

the name

of a woman as he did hers. I can only hope that, as her father Minos was reconciled at last with Theseus for his daughter’s sake, your father will at last be

reconciled with us.’

“He had thought, poor Jason, that talking to the girl

in this gentle way

would soothe her. But instead his words filled Medeia

with gloomy forebodings,

and bitterness as well. White flecks appeared in her

blushing face

and she answered with passion: ‘No doubt in Hellas

men think it right

to honor commitments. My father is hardly the kind

of man

this Minos was, if your story’s true. And as for Ariadne, I cannot claim to be a match for her. Speak to me no

more

of kindness to strangers. But oh, do remember when

you’re back in Iolkos;

and I, despite my parents, will remember you. The day you forget me and speak of me no more, that day may

a whisper come

from afar to me, some parra to tell of it; may the wild

North Wind

snatch me and carry me across the dark sea to Iolkos,

and I

denounce you, force you to remember that I saved your

life. Expect me!

I’ll come that day if I can!’ Bright tears ran down her

cheeks.

“Jason spoke quickly, smiling. ‘Dear lady, you may

spare the wandering

winds that task, and spare the bird that arduous flight! Rest well assured, if you come to us you’ll be honored

and revered

by everyone there — men, women, children. They’ll treat

you like a goddess,

since thanks to you their sons and brothers and fathers

came home.

And I, I’ll build you a bridal bed, and a house we can

share

till death. Let that be settled between us.’

“As she heard his words

the girl’s heart leaped. And yet she shuddered at the

things she must do

to earn the stranger’s love. Her maids, who’d been

watching from afar,

grew restive now, though they dared not intervene. It

was

high time for flight; but Medeia had as yet no thought

of leaving,

entranced by Jason’s beauty and bewitching talk. As

for him,

whatever his passion, he’d by no means lost his wits.

He said:

‘We must part, Medeia, before we’re seen by some

passer-by.

We’ll meet again. Have faith.’ And touching her hand,

he retreated

and was gone. Her maids ran forward. She scarcely

noticed them.

Her mind benumbed, she got in the charriot to drive

the mules,

taking the reins in one hand, the whip in the other,

and blindly,

home she drove to the palace. As soon as her feet

touched earth

Khalkiope came, pale as marble, to ask what chance

for her sons.

Medeia said nothing, heard not a word she spoke. In

her room

she sank to the crimson hassock at the foot of her bed,

leaned over

and rested her cheek on her left hand, tearfully

pondering

the incredible thing she’d done. But whether she wept

for joy

or fear, she could not tell.

“That night, in a lonely place

under open sky, Lord Jason bathed in the sacred river, drew on his coal-black cape, his famous panther skin, and dug a pit one cubit deep, and piled up billets, and spread a slain ewe on the wood. He kindled the fire

from below,

poured out libations, called on Hekate, and withdrew.

The goddess

heard, from the abyss, and rose. Her form was

surrounded by snakes

that slid like spokes from a hub and coiled round

the silent oaks

until every twig seemed alive, their serpent eyes like the

gleam

of a thousand flickering torches. And the hounds of the

Underworld

leaped up, dark shapes all around her, and filled the

night with their howls

till the stones in the earth were afraid and the far hills

trembled. Then came

more fearsome things — a cry like a girl’s, Medeia’s,

grim joke

of Hades, eternally bored. Then the heart of the

Argonaut quaked,

for he knew the cry, and his whole dark body burst out

in a sweat

and he paused, but only for an instant, then stubbornly

Jason walked on,

and his eyes did not look back. He came to his friends

again.

“At dawn old black-eyed Aietes put over his breast the

cuirass

the god of war had given him. On his head he set his golden helmet with its four plates, gift of the sun. He took up his shield of many hides and his

unconquerable spear,

and mounted the well-built battle-car that he’d won

from Phaiton.

The Lord of the Bulls took the reins and drove to the

contest grounds,

a crowd of Kolchians behind him, hurrying on foot, in

silence,

no man daring to challenge Aietes’ eye. There soon came Jason, on his head a helmet of glittering bronze

full of teeth

like nails, on his shoulder a sword. His body was naked

and shone

like Apollo’s eyes. Aietes was troubled, but waited.

“Then Jason,

glancing around, saw the great bronze yoke for the

bulls, and beside it

the plough of indurated steel, built all of one piece. He

went up to them,

planted his sword in the ground by the hilt, and laid

down the helmet,

leaning it next to the sword. Then stirred to examine

the tracks

the bulls had made, and mused, half-smiled at Aietes.

And now

from the bowels of the earth, the fuliginous lair where

the huge bulls slept,

up they came, breathing fire. Their great necks rippled,

as thick

as cliffs, as poised as the arching necks of dragons.

They lowered

their heads, eyes rolling, swung up their muscular tails

like flags,

and gouged up divots of earth with their knife-sharp

brazen hooves.

First one, then the other, the monsters lolled their

weight forward,

gathering now for the charge. The Argonauts trembled,

watching.

But Jason planted his feet far apart and waited, as firm as a reef in the sea when it takes on the billows in a

gale. He held

his shield in front of him. The bulls, bellowing loudly,

came at him.

They struck. He shifted not an inch. They snorted,

spewed from their mouths

devouring flame. He was not devoured. Their heat came

down

like lightning shocks, like waves of lava. But Jason held. Seizing the right-hand bull by the tip of its horn he

dragged it

slowly toward the yoke, then brought it to its knees

with a kick

and, casting his shield aside, he yoked it. And so with

the second.

Aietes frowned and mused.

“Then Jason ploughed, his shield

on his back, his helmet on his head, his sword in his

hands like a goad,

pricking the great beasts forward. The earth turned

black at their fire,

but the furrows turned, the fallow lay broken behind

them.He sowed

the teeth, cast them far from himself, taking many a

backward glance

to be sure no earthborn demon should catch him

unawares. And the bulls,

thrusting their sharp bronze hooves into earth, tolled

on till the day

was two-thirds spent. The work of the ploughman was

done, the wide field

ploughed. He freed the bulls, shooed them off. They

fled across the plain,

bellowing, tossing their heads, still huffing fire. He

quenched

the fire in his throat at the bordering river, then waited

with his spear.

And now — it was dusk — the earthborn men came