Jason and the Argonauts (18 page)

with the intentions you impute to us.

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What man would hazard of his own free will

voyaging over such high-swelling seas

to steal another man's possession? Fate,

rather, and an abominable tyrant's

heartless insistence have compelled this visit.

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Bestow a favor on your suppliants,

and I shall speak of you as of a god

throughout the land of Hellas. Furthermore,

we are prepared to pay immediate

indemnity in battle, whether you

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might wish us to subdue beneath your scepter

the Sauromatae or some other tribe.”

So he proposed, with soft persuasion aiming

to sway Aeëtes. But the king was mulling

divided purposes within his chest:

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whether to charge and slay them then and there

or test their mettle first. The latter course

seemed better in the end, and he responded:

“
Stranger, why should you tell your whole tale through?

If you were truly sired by deities

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and have arrived no weaker than I am

in strength for my possession, I shall give you

the fleece to carry home, if that's your wish,

but only if you pass my test. By no means

am I tightfisted with distinguished men,

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not like that king in Greece you told me of.

The contest will be one of strength and mettle,

one I myself perform with my own hands,

life-threatening though it be.

I am the owner

of two bronze-footed oxen. As they graze

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the plain of Ares, fire rather often

shoots from their mouths. Once I have yoked their necks,

I drive them over all four stubborn acres

of Ares' fallows. Yes, I cleave the plain

from end to end up to the riverbank,

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casting into the furrows all the while

not seed to summon up Demeter's grain,

but fangs instead, fangs from a wondrous serpent.

They sprout up in the shape of armed and armored

soldiers and, when they charge in all around me,

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I harvest them at once beneath my spear.

I yoke the bulls at daybreak and at dusk

rest from the reaping.

On the very day

that you complete these tasks as I do, you

may take the fleece back to that king of yours.

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Until you do, though, you should not expect

I will bestow the golden prize upon you.

It's unbecoming for a gentleman

to yield to a man of lesser birth.”

Such was his challenge. Jason fixed his eyes

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before his feet in silence and remained

speechless and lost in the predicament.

He sat a long time wondering what to do,

but there was no way to accept the labor

with confidence—it seemed impossible.

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He came out, in the end, with wary words:

“Aeëtes, your demand, though justified,

leaves me no choice, it seems. Therefore I, too,

shall risk the contest, daunting though it be,

and though it be my doom to die of it.

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Nothing harder can befall a man

than dire necessity. Necessity

has driven me to you—a king's insistence.”

So Jason answered, stricken with despair.

Seeing that he was paralyzed, Aeëtes

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dismissed him with a still more heinous threat:

“Go now with your companions, since you are

so keen to try. But if you balk at yoking

the bulls or harvesting the deadly crop,

the consequences I have outlined here

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will then befall you, so that in the future

base men will shrink from troubling their betters.”

Such was his bluntness. Jason left his couch,

and Telamon arose, and then Augeas.

But, of the sons of Phrixus, only Argus

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departed with their party—he had signaled

his brothers to remain behind at home.

They all strode from the hall, and
Jason shone

brilliantly in his grace and beauty, gorgeous

above the others, and the maiden fixed

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her eyes, sidelong, on him, appraising him

obliquely from behind her veil. Her heart

was smoldering in its distress. Her soul,

like a pursuing dream, went fluttering

about his footsteps as he walked. And so,

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in great dismay, the heroes left the palace.

On guard against the anger of Aeëtes,

Chalciope retreated with her sons

swiftly into her room. Medea followed,

her heart obsessing over all the worries

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love excites. The vision still appeared

before her eyes: what he himself was like,

what clothing he had worn, what he had said,

how he had sat upon his chair, and how

walked out the door. When she considered him,

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she thought that she had never seen his equal.

His voice and luscious phrases sounded over

and over in her ears. She feared for him—

the oxen or invincible Aeëtes

would slay him, and she grieved and grieved as though

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he were already dead. At her bereavement

round tears of earnest pity wet her cheeks.

So she was softly sobbing when she mourned:

“Why has this woe assailed me? I am ruined.

Whether he be the greatest of the heroes

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who now is doomed to perish, or the weakest,

let him meet his fate. I would prefer, though,

that he escape uninjured. Hecate,

daughter of Perses, Holy Queen of Dread,

please help him to survive and sail for home.

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But if his fate requires that he die

beneath the oxen, let him first know this—

his sad misfortune gives me no delight.”

Such were the love cares torturing her heart.

While Argus and the heroes were proceeding

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out of the city and its press of people

down the road they took in from the plain,

Argus offered Jason a suggestion:

“Son of Aeson, you may scorn the counsel

that I will give you now but, all the same,

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though you are in a bind, it is unseemly

to shirk the trial. You have already heard me

talking about a girl, a witch who learned

black arts from Perses' daughter Hecate.

If we can find a way to win her over,

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you need no longer fear Aeëtes' trial

will end with your demise. I am afraid, though,

very afraid, my mother will refuse

to help us in this matter. All the same,

I shall return and plead our case to her

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because the same doom hangs above us all.”

Thus in a friendly fashion he proposed,

and Jason said:

“Dear comrade, if this plan

seems prudent to you, I do not oppose it.

Go and beseech your mother, beg for help

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with carefully selected words. But, mind you,

if we entrust our homecoming to women,

our hopes are very pitiful indeed.”

So he responded, and they quickly reached

the river marsh. Their comrades in excitement

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shouted out questions when they saw them coming,

but Jason gave a sorrowful response:

“My friends, inflexible Aeëtes wildly

rages against us in his heart of hearts.

No need for me to tell you all the details;

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no need for you to question me about them.

In sum, he spoke of two bronze-footed bulls

that graze the plain of Ares, how they shoot

fire out of their mouths. He challenged me

to plow four fallow acres with the things.

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He will provide, he said, the following seed:

fangs from a serpent's jaws, and from these fangs

armed men, earth-nurtured soldiers, will emerge.

The very hour they sprout I must destroy them.

Since I could not come up with something better,

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I vowed to take the challenge on myself.”

So he explained. The contest seemed a labor

none could accomplish, so they stood awhile

unspeaking, silent, eying one another.

Thoughts of catastrophe and then despair

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oppressed them. Then at long last Peleus

spoke words of inspiration to his comrades:

“It's time to make a plan, though there is less

profit in talk, I think, than our own strength.

Heroic son of Aeson, if you truly

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do
intend to yoke the bulls, that is,

if you are passionate to win the contest,

keep your word and gird yourself for action.

But if your heart does not have perfect faith

in your ability, do not, yourself,

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attempt it nor sit swiveling your eyes

in search of someone else to do the labor,

since I am not the sort that runs and hides.

The worst that I can suffer will be death.”

So Peleus proclaimed, and Telamon

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was moved as well to stand as a contestant.

The third to rise was haughty Idas, then

Tyndareus' sons stood up beside him

and, finally, the son of Oeneus,

who made the cut of foremost fighters, though

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the down had not yet flowered on his cheeks,

because so great a battle lust inspired him.

The other men deferred to them in silence.

Argus, however, quickly spoke his mind

to all those who were keen to try the contest:

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“Friends, yours would be an act of desperation.

It's likely that my mother will provide

crucial support, so, eager as you are,

remain here on the ship a little longer

just as before, since holding back is better

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than rashly snatching up a dreadful doom.

There is a girl, a maiden. King Aeëtes

raised her here at court, and Hecate

has taught her to prepare with perfect skill

all the magic herbs that earth and water

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nurture to growth. Armed with these tinctures, she

can blunt the fury of relentless fire,

check suddenly a roaring river's spate,

pause stars, and halt the holy moon's advance.

As we were coming back along the road

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out of the court, I thought of her and thought

to ask my mother to persuade this girl,

her sister, to assist us in the contest.

If all of you agree to my proposal,

I shall return to King Aeëtes' palace

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this very day and see what I can do.

With god's assistance my attempt will prosper.”

So he submitted, and the gods provided

a sign to show their will:
a timid dove

that happened to be fleeing from a hawk

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dropped, in confusion, into Jason's lap,

and its assailant then impaled itself

upon the splintered stern post. Mopsus swiftly

interpreted the omen for his comrades:

“My friends, this auspice has appeared for you

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with god's approval. There's no better way

to read the sign than that we should approach

the girl and win her over with persuasion.

She won't refuse, I think, if Phineus

has rightly prophesied that our return

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lies with the goddess Cypris, since it was

her gentle bird that just escaped its doom.

And as the heart within me reads this omen,

so may it now be brought to pass. Come, friends,

first call on Cytherea to protect us,

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then go and act on Argus' proposal.”

So he interpreted, and all the heroes

took thought of Phineus' prophecy

and shouted in approval. Only Idas

the son of Aphareus started up

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and grumbled an abominable reproach:

“My, my, have we come here
as fellow crewmen

to women, now that we are asking Cypris

for help and not the mighty Enyalius?

Look at you—ogling hawks and doves and shirking

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heroic labors. On your way, then, boys.

Neglect the work of soldiers; go and woo

fainthearted maidens over to our cause.”

So growled he in a huff. Though many heroes

murmured words of muted disapproval,

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none of them spoke against him, so he gruffly

sat down again, and Jason spoke his mind

to the assembly, rousing them to action:

“Now, since everyone agrees, let Argus

head to the palace. We ourselves should loosen

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our cables from the riverbank and fix them

openly to the mainland. Lurking here

like coward ne'er-do-wells is unbecoming.”

So he commanded and at once dispatched

Argus at full speed back toward town again

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while all the others heeded Jason's orders,

weighed the anchor stone, and rowed the ship

ashore a short ways from the river flats.

Aeëtes, meanwhile, had convened the Colchians

far from the palace at the council place

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where they had often met, and they were planning

atrocious schemes and torments for the Minyans.