speech that might
persuade Aietes to give it as a gift? God knows, the
man's
intractable, but nothing should be overlooked.” Athena sighed. She hated to be caught without schemes. “
I've racked my brains, to be truthful,” she said, “and
I've come up with nothing.”
For a while the goddesses stared at the grass, each
lost in her own
perplexities. Then Hera's eyes went sly. She said:
“Listen!
We'll go to Aphrodite and ask her to persuade that
revolting boy
to loose an arrow at Aietes' daughter, Medeia of the
many
spells. With the help of Medeia our Jason can't fail!”
Athena
smiled. “Excellent,” she said and glanced at Hera, then
away.
Hera caught itâno simpleton, ruler of the whole
world's will.
“All right.” she said, “explain that simper,
Lightning-head.”
Athena's gray eyes widened. “I smiled?” Hera looked
stern. Athena
sighed, then smiled again. âThere is ⦠a certain logic to events, as you know, Your Majesty. Your war with
Pelias
has taken, I think, a new turn. If Medeia should fall in
love
with Jason and win him the fleece, and if she returned
with him
and reigned with himâand Pelias ⦔ Queen Hera's
eyebrows raised,
all shock. “I give you my solemn word I intended no such thing!” Then, abruptly, she too smiled. Then both
of them laughed
and, taking one another's arms, they hurried to the love
goddess.
She was alone in her palace. Crippled Hephaiastos
had gone to work early,
as he often did, to create odd gadgets for gods and
men
in his shop. She was sitting in an inlaid chair, a
heart-shaped box
on the arm, and between little nibbles she was combing
her lush, dark hair
with a golden comb. When she saw the goddesses
standing at the door,
peeking shyly through the draperiesâin their dimpled
fingers
fans half-flared, like the pinions of a friendly but
timorous birdâ
she stopped and called them in. She crossed to meet
them quickly
and settled the two, almost officiously, in easy chairs, before she went to her own seat. “How wonderful!”
she said,
and her childlike eyes were bright. “It's been ages!”
The queen of goddesses
smiled politely, cool and aloof in spite of herself. She
glanced at Athena,
and Athena, innocent as morning, inquired about
Aphrodite's
health, and Hephaiastos' health, and that of “the boy.”
She could not
bring herself to come out with the urchin's name. When
the queen
of love had responded at lengthâsometimes with tears,
sometimes
with a smile that lighted the room like a burst of pink
May sun,
the goddess of will broke in, a trifle abruptly, almost sternly, saying: “My dear, our visit is only partly social. We two are facing a disaster. At this very
moment
warlike Jason and his friends the Argonauts are riding
at anchor
on the river Phasis. They've come to fetch the fleece
from Aietes.
We're concerned about them; as a matter of fact I'm
prepared to fight
with all my power for that good, brave man, and I
mean to save him,
even if he sails into Hades' Cave. You know my justified fury at Pelias, that insolent upstart who slights me
whenever
he offers libations. âPeace whatever the expense' is his
motto.
Even those beautiful images of me he's ordered ripped
down
from end to end of Argos, for fear some humble herder may dare to assert himself as Pelias himself did once, when his brother was rightful king. I won't mince
words:I want
his skull, and I want it by Jason's handânot just
because
he's proved himself as a warrior (though heaven knows
he's done so).
Once, disguised as an ugly old woman with withered
feet,
I met him at the mouth of the Anauros River. The river
was in spateâ
all the mountains and their towering spurs were buried
in snow
and hawk-swift cataracts roared down the sides. I called)
out, pleading
to be carried across. Jason was hurrying to Pelias' feast, but despite the advice of those who were with him,
despite the rush
of the ice-cold stream, he laughedâbright laugh of a
demigodâ
and shouted, âClimb on, old mother! If I'm not strong
enough
for two I'm not Aison's son!' Again and again I've
tested
his charity, and he's always the same. Say what you
like
about Jason, he does not blanch, for himself or for
others.”
Words failed
the queen of love. The sight of Hera pleading for favors from her, most mocked of all goddesses, filled her with
awe. She said:
“Queen of goddesses and wife of great Zeus, regard me as the meanest creature living if I fail you now in your need! All I can say or do, I will, and whatever small strength I
have
is yours.” Her sweet voice broke, and her lovely eyes
brimmed tears.
Athena looked thoughtful. She could not easily scorn
Aphrodite,
whatever her dullness. You might have imagined, in
fact, that the goddess
of mind felt a twinge of envy. She was silent, studying
her hands.
She knew nothing, daughter of Zeus, of love; but she
knew by cool geometry
that she was not all she might beânor was Hera.
Hera spoke, choosing her words with care. “We are
not
asking the power of your hands. We would like you to
tell your boy
to use his wizardry and make the daughter of Aietes fall, beyond all turning, in love with the son of Aison. Her
aid
can make this business easy. There lives no greater
witch
in Kolchis, even though she's young.”
Then poor Aphrodite paled
and lowered her eyes, blushing. “Perhaps Hephaiastos,”
she said, “
could make some engine. Perhaps I could speak toâ”
Her voice trailed off.
“The truth is, he's far more likely to listen to either of
you
than to me. He sasses me, scorns me, mocks me. I've
had half a mind
to break his arrows and bow in his very sight. Would
that be right, do you think?”
She wrung her fingers, looked pitiful. “As you well
know, his father and I
do
everything
for him. And how does he pay us? He
won't go to bed,
refuses to obey us, says horrible, horrible things, and
in front of company!â
but he's a child, of course. How can he learn to be loving if
we
don't show love and forgiveness?
How can he learn
to have generous feelings toward others if we aren't
first generous to him?
Parenthood really is a horror!”
Athena and Hera smiled
and exchanged glances. Aphrodite pouted. “People
without children,”
she said, “know all the answers. Never mind. I'll do
what you ask,
if possible.”
Then Queen Hera rose and took Aphrodite's
milkwhite hand in hers. “You know best how to deal
with him.
But manage it quickly if you can. We both depend on
you.”
She turned, started out. Athena followed. Poor
Aphrodite,
sighing, went out as well. She'd never been meant to
be a mother.
But too late now. (Married to a dreary old gimplegâ
she
who'd slept, in her youth, with the god of war himself!
âNever mind.
âNevertheless, it was a bitter thing to waste eternity with a durgen, genius or not.) She wiped her eye and
sniffed.
She glanced through the world and saw Jason, watchful
on the
Argo,
a man
as handsome as Ares in his youth. And she turned her
eyes to the palace
of Aietes, and saw where Medeia slept, and suddenly
her heart
was warmed. The goddesses were right: they made a
lovely couple!
Things not possible in heaven she meant to shape on
earth.
The Argonauts were sitting in conference on the
benches of their ship.
Row on row sat silent as Jason spoke. “My friends, my advice is thisâif you disagree, speak up. I'll go with three or four others, to Aietes' palace and parley,
find whether
he means to treat us as friends or to try out his army
against us.
No point killing a king who, if asked, would gladly
oblige us.”
With one accord, the Argonauts approved.
With the sons of Phrixos, and with Telamon, the father
of Alas,
and with Augeias, Aietes' half-brother, the captain of
the Argonauts
set forth. Queen Hera sent a mist before them, so
covered the town
that no man saw them till they'd reached Aietes' house.
And then
the mist lifted. They paused at the entrance, astonished
to see
the half-mile gates, the rows of soaring columns
surrounding
the palace walls, and high over all, the marble cornice resting on triglyphs of bronze. They crossed the
threshold then,
unchallenged, and came to the sculptured trees and,
below them, four springs,
Hephaiastos' work. One flowed with milk, another
with wine,
the third with fragrant oil; but the fourth was the
finest of all,
a fountain that, when the Pleiades set, ran boiling hot, and afterward bubbled from the hollow rock ice-cold.
All that,
they would learn in time, was nothing to the
flame-breathing bulls of bronze
that the craftsman of the gods had created as a gift
for Aietes. There was also
an inner court with ingeniously fashioned folding doors of enormous size, each of them leading to a splendid
room
and to galleries left and right. At angles to the court,
on all sides
stood higher buildings. In the highest, Aietes lived
with his queen.
In another Apsyrtus lived, Aietes' son, and in yet another, his daughters, Khalkiope and Medeia. That
Moment
Medeia was roaming from room to room in search of
her sister.
The goddess Hera had fettered Medeia to the house
that day;
as a rule she spent most of her day in the temple of
Hekate, of whom
she was priestess.
The voice of the narrator softened. I had to close
my eyes and concentrate to hear.
“And I was that child Medeia,
a thousand thousand lives ago. And yet one moment stands like a newly made mural ablaze in the sun.
I glanced
at the courtyard and saw, as the mist rose, seven men,
and their leader
wore black, and his cape was a panther skin. His hand
was on his sword,
and his look was as keen as a god's. Without knowing
I'd do it, I raised
my hand to my lips, cried out. In an instant the
courtyard was astirâ
Khalkiope joyfully greeting her sons, her children by
Phrixos,
my father approaching on the steps, all smiles, huge
arms extended,
and a moment later his servants were working with the
carcase of a bull,
more servants chopping up firewood, and others
preparing hot water
for baths. I stared from the balcony, half in a daze.
Stupidly,
unable to move a muscle, I watched sly Eros creep in (none of them saw him but me). In the porch, beneath
the lintel
he hastily strung his bow, slipped an arrow from the
quiver to the string, and,
still unobserved by the others, ran across the gleaming
threshold,
his blind eyes sparkles, and crouched at Jason's feet.
He drew
the bow as far as his fat arms reached, and fired.
I could
do nothing. A searing pain leaped through me. My
heart stood still.
With a laugh like a jackal's, the little brute flashed out
of sight and was gone
from the hall. The invisible shaft in my breast was
flame. Ah, poor
ridiculous Medeia! Time and again she darts a glance at Jason, and she cannot make out if the feeling is
mainly pain
or sweetness!
“How can I say what happened then? In a blur,
a baffling radiance, I moved through the feast. His eyes
dazzled,
his scentânew oil of his welcoming bathâfilled me
with anguish
as blood and the smoke of incense-reckels confound the
dead.
“When they'd eaten and drunk their fill, my father
Aietes asked questions
of the sons of Khalkiope and Phrixos. I paid no
attention, but watched
that beautiful, godlike stranger. He never glanced once
at me,
but myself, I could see nothing else. For even if I closed
my eyes,
he was there, like the retinal after-image of a
candleflame.
Childish love-madness, perhaps. Yet I do not think so,
even now.
We're all imperfect, created with some part missing;
and I saw
from the first instant my crippled soul's completion in
that dark-robed
prince. He stood as if perfectly fearless in front of