Robert Harris - Jason and the Gorgon's Blood

Admetus and Lynceus cheered uproariously.

Acastus and Idas looked to the ferryman, uncertain of how he would react.

It was Alcestis, though, who said what the others were thinking. Frowning at Jason, she shook her head. “That was hardly fair. You were supposed to throw the stone.”

“No,” said Jason, “the challenge was to hit the far bank with a stone. I never said anything about throwing.”

All at once Argos’ grim face broke into a wide grin, and he laughed uproariously. “He used his head,” he said, tapping himself on the temple. “That’s more than any of the rest of you bothered to do.”

Jason tried to hand the sling back, but Lynceus declined it. “Keep it, Jason. It’s a poor enough gift, but it’s no use to me with my shoulder wrenched like this. And take my pouch of stones as well. You’ve more than earned them.”

“We can have the boat, then?” Acastus asked.

Argos thrust out his hand. “The agreement was that I would sell it to you if any of you could best me.”

Acastus reluctantly slipped off his amulet and dropped it into the ferryman’s palm. Argos stuffed it carelessly into his belt.

“Time’s running out,” said Jason. “We’ve got to get started.”

“I should warn you,” said Argos, wrinkling his nose, “I’ve seen a goat swim faster than this raft. She’ll be dashed to pieces before she gets in sight of Lake Boebis.”

“Hoi!” exclaimed Jason. “You said you built her with your own hands.”

“Yes, to carry passengers, baggage, even goats and sheep, from one side of the river to the other. I didn’t build her to go through the Dragon’s Mouth.”

“What’s that?” The boys spoke as one.

Shaking his head over their ignorance, Argos told them. “A narrow canyon some miles downriver where the water runs fast as the wind. The rocks are like giant fangs. They’d chew up my poor ferry and spit her out as driftwood.”

“Then you’ve cheated us!” Acastus cried.

The old ferryman shook his finger at Acastus. “If you’re to be a king, my boy, you should be slower to judge people.”

They all stared at him, confused and angry.

“I said I’d sell you what you need,” the ferryman told them. “I’ve another boat that can do the journey. Oh, yes, she’ll get you where you want to go, if you speak sweetly to her.”

He turned and walked away, beckoning them to follow. Beyond the cottage was a small inlet where a sheet of canvas had been thrown over some large object that lay close to the water’s edge. Argos gripped the edge of the sheet and yanked it away.

Jason gasped and Lynceus let out a low whistle. Even Acastus looked impressed.

“She’s a beauty,” said Admetus.

Argos nodded. “I think Athena herself must have guided my hand in fashioning her.”

Jason was inclined to agree. On trips with Chiron, he’d seen clumsy fishing boats casting their nets in the sea, always within safe reach of the shore. But this boat was as different from one of them as a hawk is from a hen.

Where the ferry was wide and flat, this vessel was as sharp and sleek as a needle and twenty feet long. A pair of bright green eyes was painted on the bow, while stripes of blue and green, shaped like feathers, swept down both sides.

Alcestis walked up to the boat and ran her hand down the painted feathers. “She looks like a bird, not a boat.”

Argos nodded again. “I call her the Swift. I built her with my son, and for him.” There was a sudden sadness in his voice. “We were going to transport her north to the great River Peneus and journey down the river, through the Vale of Tempe to the sea. What adventures we might have had then! I was even going to fit her with a sail like the great ships of Egypt and Crete, but …” His voice trailed off, and his eyes seemed suddenly rheumy with tears.

“What happened?” Alcestis asked.

Argos grew even more solemn. “A few months ago my boy was climbing among the cliffs, searching for eagles’ eggs, when he lost his grip and fell to his death. He made his voyage—not with me, but with Charon, the ferryman of the Underworld, over the cursed River Styx.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, and put a hand on his arm. “He must have been very proud of this boat.”

Argos patted her hand, then looked away at the hill they had run down. “I buried him up there, overlooking this very spot where we labored so hard. I left him with provisions for his journey and a bronze token in his mouth to pay for his passage across the Styx.”

Acastus cleared his throat and looked abashed. “It’s worth more than a gold amulet,” he said. “More than anyone could ever pay you for it.”

“I wouldn’t entrust her to you if there weren’t one of you worthy of that trust,” said Argos, laying his broad hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Now, if you’re in as big a hurry as you say, we’d best get her into the water.”

“First a prayer for the journey,” Alcestis said. And though her brother raised his eyebrows, he didn’t argue the point.

“Wait!” Argos cried. He ran back to his little cottage and returned with a jug of fresh water and a basket of bread, olives, and salted fish. “For the journey.”

Alcestis spilled a bit of the water on the side of the boat and into the river, saying, “God of the river, son and cousin of great Poseidon, smooth the water for us and carry us over the broad waves safely to the sweet shores of Lake Boebis.”

While the others manhandled the boat off the bank and into the shallows, Argos drew Jason aside.

“Not an easy crew to manage, are they?”

“No, they’re not,” Jason agreed, “but it was worse only a few days ago. And to tell you the truth, I’ve never been in a boat before.”

“You’re captain enough for the journey,” said the ferryman. “After all, you can only go one way—downriver. Just keep an eye out for the unanticipated. And remember, always expect more of yourself than you do of your crew, and the rest will follow.”

Jason smiled. “Chiron said something like that, too.”

“Then he must be wise, for a centaur.” Argos slipped the gold amulet out of his belt and offered it to Jason. “Here, take this. It’s no use to me. You can give it back to your friend Acastus, if you like.”

Jason looked to where the others were all sliding the boat into the river. Lynceus tripped and plunged into the water. There was a chorus of good-natured laughter, and Acastus took Lynceus’ arm to help him up.

“No, you keep it,” said Jason. “He’s better off without it. And I think he may be starting to understand that himself.”

CHAPTER 23

THE DRAGON’S MOUTH

SOON ALL SIX OF the travelers were seated in the boat, alongside the jug of fresh water and basket of bread, olives, and salted fish. Then the ferryman waded into the river and gave the Swift a hefty shove to help it out of the shallows.

“Remember, Argos, son of Arestor, is my name,” the ferryman called after them, his arm held up in a salute. “If you ever need a swift ship built, you know who to send for.”

“I’ll remember,” Jason called back. “Perhaps one day we’ll make a voyage worthy of your son’s memory.”

The boat had been equipped with two pairs of oars, one each for Argos and his son. Now Jason, Acastus, Idas, and Admetus were squeezed side by side onto the two benches with an oar each to handle. Lynceus was seated at the back, where he could watch the course ahead and cry out corrections to the rowers. Occasionally he thumped out a beat for them with the flat of his hand.

Alcestis leaned over the front of the boat like a figurehead, trailing her fingers in the water. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled for river nymphs,” she said.