in pain.
Then, lying still, she was aware of the softness of her
breasts. She whispered
the stranger's name, and at the magic wordâmore
powerful spell
than any she'd learned from Hekateâher 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. âMedeia!' she cried, âwhat'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: âOh, 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. â
I knew it!' Khalkiope gasped between sobs. âI'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
in Medeia's lap, sobbed as if her heart would burst.
The younger sister, too,
wept long and hard. Throughout all the house you could hear their lamentations.
“Medeia was the first to speak: â
Sister, you leave me speechless with your talk of curses
and furies.
How can I ease your heartache? As God is my judge,
Khalkiopeâ
and by earth and heaven, and by all the powers of
land and seaâ
I will help you to save your sons with whatever strength
or skill
I have.'
“Then Khalkiope said, âCould you not devise some
scheme,
some cunning ruse that will save the stranger, for my
children's sake?
He needs you as much as they do, Medeia. Oh, do not
be merciless!'
“The girl's heart leaped, her cheeks crimsoned; her
eyes grew misty
with joyful tears. âKhalkiope, dearest, I'll do anything
at all
to please my sister and her sons. May I never again see
morning
and no mortal see me in the world again if I place any
good
ahead of the lives of your sons, my beloved kinsmen.
Now go,
and bury my promise in silence. At dawn I will go to
the temple
with magic medicine for the bulls.' Khalkiope left,
carrying
her news of success to her son. But Medeia, alone once
more,
was sick with shame and fear at her daring to plot
such things
in defiance of her father's will.
“Night drew down darkness on the world;
on the ship the Argonauts looked toward the Bear and
the stars of Orion.
Wanderers and watchmen longed for sleep. The cloak of
oblivion
stilled both sorrow and laughter. At the edges of town,
dogs ceased
to bark, and men ceased calling one another. Silence
reigned
in the blackening gloom. But sleep did not come to
Medeia. More clear
than the bedroom walls, the stars beyond the window
frame,
she saw the great bulls, and Jason confronting them.
She saw him fall,
the great horns tearing at his bowels. And the maiden's
poor heart raced,
restless as a patch of moonlight dancing up and down
on a wall
as the swirling water poured into a pail reflects it.
Bright tears
ran down her cheeks, and anguish tortured her, a
golden fire
in her veins. One moment she thought she would give
him the magic drug;
the next she thought, no, she would sooner die; and the
next she'd do neither,
but patiently endure. And so, as Jason had done before
Aietes,
she debated in painful indecision, her eyes clenched
shut. She whispers:
“ âEvil on this side, evil on that; and I have no choice but to choose between them. Would I'd been slain by
Artemis' arrows
before I had ever laid eyes on that man! Some god,
some fury
must have brought him here with his cargo of grief and
shame. Let him
be killed, if that is his fate. And how can I get him
the drug
without my father's knowledge of it? What story can
I tell
that his dragon's eye won't pierce?' Then, suddenly
panicky, she thought:
âDo I meet him alone? And speak with him? And even
if he dies,
what hope have I of happiness? Far blacker evils than any I toy with now will strike my heart if Jason dies! Enough! No more shame, no more glory! Saved
from harm,
let Jason sail where he pleases, and let me die. On the
day
of his triumph may my neck crack in a noose from
the rooftree, or may
I fall to the sly bite of poison.' She saw it in her mind
and wept:
and saw that even in death she'd be taunted like mad
Jokasta,
who bucked in bed with her royal son, and every city, far or near, would ring with her doomâthe wily little
whore
who threw away life for a stranger! Then better to
die,' she thought,
this very night, in my room, slip out of the world
unnoticed,
still innocent.'
“She ran out quickly for the casket that held
her potionsâsome for healing, others for destructionâ
and placing
the casket on her knees, she bent above it and wept.
Tears ran
unchecked down her cheeks, and she saw her corpse
stretched out in state,
beautiful and tragic. The city howled, and fierce Aietes tore out his hair in tufts and cursed his wickedness, he who'd brought his daughter to this sad pass. She
was now
determined to snatch some poison from the box and
swallow it,
and in a moment she was fumbling with the lid in her
sorrowing eagerness â¦
but suddenly paused. Clear as a vision, she had seen
death,
at the corner of her eye. An empty room, a curtain
blowing,
some dim memory or snatch from a dream ⦠There
was icy wind
whistling in the walls of her skull, collapsing her chest
like the roof
of an abandoned palace. And now the pale child's lip
trembled.
She thought of her playmatesâmore girl than womanâ
and the scent of fire
in the temple, and of caracolling birds and of newly
hatched birds in their nests
in the plane trees, cheeping to heaven. And all at once
it seemed
she had no choice but to live, because life was loveâ
every field
and hillside shouted the sameâand love was Jason.
“She rose,
put the box in its place. Irresolute no longer, she waited for dawn, when she could meet him, deliver the drug to
him
as promised. Time after time she would suddenly open
her eyes
believing it must be morning, but the room was black.
“At length
dawn came. Now the tops of the mountains were alight,
and now the spring-
green stath where the flamebright river flowed past
long-shadowed trees,
and now there were sounds in the peasant huts, the
stone and wattle
barns. Medeia was filled with joy, as if risen from the
dead,
and her mind went hungrily to meet the light, the smell
of new blossoms,
and newploughed ground and the sweat of horses. And
she whispered, âYes,'
and was ready.
“She gathered the flamebright locks that swirled past
her shoulders,
washed the stains from her tear-puffed cheeks and
cleansed her skin
with an ointment clear as nectar. She put on a beautiful
robe
with cunning broaches, and draped a silvery veil across her forehead and hair, all quickly, deftly, moving about oblivious to imminent evils, and worse to come.
“She called
her maidens, the twelve who slept in the ante-chamber
of Medeia's
room, and told them to yoke white mules to her chariot
at once,
as she wished to drive to the splendid temple of
Hekate.
And while they were making the chariot ready, she
took out a drug
from her casket. He who smoothed it on his skin, after
offering prayer
to Hekate, would become for that one day invulnerable. She had taken the drug from flowers that grew on twin
stalks
a cubit high, of saffron color. The root was like flesh that has just been cut, and the juice was like sap from a
mountain oak.
The dark earth shook and rumbled underneath her
when Medeia cut
that root, for the root was beloved of the queen of the
dead.
“She placed
the salve in the fragrant band that girdled her, beneath
her bosom,
and stepped out quickly and mounted the chariot, with
two of her maidens,
one at each side. Then she herself took the reins and,
seizing
the well-made whip in her right hand, she drove down
through
the city, and the rest of her handmaids laid their fingers
over
the chariot wicker and, holding up their skirts above their white knees, came running behind. She fancies
herself,
her hair flying, like Artemis driving her swiftly racing deer over mountains' combs to the scent-rich sacrifice. Attendant nymphs have gathered from the forests to
follow her,
and fawning grove-beasts whimper in homage and
tremble as she passes.
So Aietes' daughter sped through the city, and on either
side,
beggars, tradesmen, carters, old women with bundles of
sticks
made way for her, avoiding the princess' eye.
“Meanwhile,
Jason was crossing the dew-white plain with Melas and
the old
seer Mopsos, skillful at omen reading. And thanks to
Hera,
never yet had there been such a man as was Jason that
day,
clear-eyed, radiant, his mind more swift, more sweet
in flight
than an eagle riding on the sky-blue robes of gods. In
fact,
his companions, walking beside him, were awed. As
they reached the shrine
they came to a poplar by the side of the path, whose
crown of countless
leaves was a favorite roost for crows. One flapped his
wings
as they passed and, cawing from the treetop, delivered
a message from Hera.
âWho is this looney old seer who hasn't got dawkins'
sense,
nor makes out even what children know, that a girl
does not
permit herself one word about love when the man she
meets
brings strangers with him? Away with you, you crackpot
prophet,
incompetent boob! It's certainly not Aphrodite that
sends
your visions!'
“Mopsos listened to the bird with a smile, despite
the scolding. He turned to Jason and stretched out his
arms and said,
âCarry on, Jason. Proceed to the temple where Medeia
awaits you.
Praise Aphrodite! Now Melas and I must go on with you no further. We'll wait right here till your safe return.
Good luck!'
“Meanwhile the poor love-sick Medeia was singing
and dancing
with her maidsâor rather, pretending to. For time and
again
her voice would falter and come to a halt. To keep her
eyes fixed
on the choir was more than she could do. She was
always turning them aside
to search the distant paths, and more than once she
was close
to fainting at a sound of wind she mistook for a footfall.
But at last
he appeared to her yearning eyes, striding like Sirius
rising
from the oceanâSirius, hound of heaven, brilliant and beautiful but filled with menace for the
flocks. Medeia's
heart stood still; her sight blurred. A flush spread across her cheeks. She could neither move toward him nor
retreat, but, as in
a frightening dream, her feet were rooted to the
ground. As songbirds
suddenly hush at an eagle's approach, silent, titanic, scarcely moving a wing as it rings on invisible winds, so Medeia's maidens fell silent and quickly disappeared.
Then Jason