Medea (18 page)

It was full moon. The sea was rippling in our speed, piling up before the bow and the concealed ram. I walked to where Argos stood at the steering oars. From the little rear deck I could see the whole crew asleep or talking quietly, laid out like corpses. I was amazed that Ancaeas had somehow fitted himself into the space under the bench. I could see one arm and one leg, and hoped we would not have to disassemble
Argo
on the morrow to get him out again.

'Steady she goes,' said Argos. With his black beard and his lined face, he looked like Poseidon himself. His hands on the steering oars were light and sure.

'We'll make Lemnos tomorrow?' I asked.

'If the wind keeps blowing in this direction.'

'What do you think of this Lemnian Deed?' I asked, curiously.

'Nothing in particular, boy. News from the islands, that's what they call unreliable rumour in Iolkos - you know that saying, Nauplios. Either the women have killed their men or not. Either they want us there or not. If not, we can go somewhere else. With most problems, the thing is to divide them into little bits. Then you can solve the bits one at a time - and never borrow trouble. That's how I build boats, boy,' said Argos. 'And they're good boats, too.'

Obscurely comforted, I went back to my bench.

 

The wind failed in the mid-morning, when Philammon was touching the strings, which meant that it was the hour of Aphrodite. He had a melody for each time span which related to how the planets, the wandering stars, moved. He had already explained the mathematical basis of this time-keeping, but I had not understood it, though I had tried hard enough to give me a headache. So now I just accepted the tinkling tune which accompanied some arcane mystery of which Philammon was master.

We were in sight of the island, so we out oars and began to row. The time was kept by the double-pipe and the drum which Hylas played, sitting at Philammon's feet on the rocking deck.
Argo
moved smoothly under the swing and dip of the oars in a dead calm, and we slipped through the heads and into the harbour of Myrine, the principal town of Lemnos.

'I thought you said there were only women here?' shouted Akastos to Jason.

'So I believe,' said Jason.

'They don't look like women to me,' Akastos gestured at shore.

The quay was lined with bronze-clad warriors, in armour and helmets, holding spears and swords.

'Bring her in,' said Jason, and we bent to our oars again, manoeuvring the ship until we were within hail - and bowshot - of the shore.

'Jason, son of Aison, in
Argo
out of Iolkos, sends greeting to Hypsipyle, queen of Lemnos,' he yelled. 'Will she receive our embassy?'

There was a stir amongst the armoured warriors. They exchanged glances. One gestured that we should back water and keep our place, and a messenger went running up the hill towards a large marble building which was probably the palace. I noticed that the messenger was definitely a young girl, and then began to examine the warriors. Were they broader of hip and perhaps a little shorter in stature than one would expect? Were they, in fact, all women?

They were. Once I knew, it was obvious. But although they were female, they were holding their weapons in a markedly professional manner, and after seeing Atalante in action I was not going to leap to any rash conclusions about the pacific nature of women.

We leaned on our oars as the current tried to pull us closer to the shore. Lynkeos stepped delicately the length of the ship to be, I hazarded, within gagging range of his brother Idas in case he was moved to make an unwise comment. This matter was poised on a knife's edge. Women or not, there were enough fighters on that quay to effectively oppose any landing we might try to make.

We waited for what seemed like a long time. The wind had ceased completely and the sea was as flat as a plate. If we were not allowed to land, it was going to be a long pull to the next landing place - which was probably somewhere in Thrace.

Philammon played the melody which told me that it was noon: Selene's music, a soft, Aeolian tune. Idas flirted on the drum, tapping out of time until Akastos begged him to stop.

Being Idas, he continued until Ancaeas the Strong told him to choose between silence and death by drowning. Even then he gave a few more defiant taps before he shoved the drum under the bench.

Jason chewed his fingernails and so did I. The warriors on the quay stood to their arms, spears grounded. The sun was at his zenith and it was hot. We had no shelter in the open boat. Time passed.

Then a messenger came running - the same small girl, very self-important. She rushed up to the captain of the guard, pulling at her war-tunic, and whispered something. The helmeted head inclined towards the child. Atalante and Clytios both bent their bows. It was so still that I heard the bowstrings creak.

'Welcome,' said the captain of the guard. It was a woman's voice. 'Queen Hypsipyle will receive the embassy of Jason, son of Aison, and three others from his ship
Argo
, out of Iolkos.'

Jason pointed to me, Authalides the herald, and Herakles. We allowed the guard to pull
Argo
close to the landing stage and clambered ashore.

Flanked by female soldiers, we were marched towards the palace.

Myrine is a pleasant, well-built town. The palace is of stone and so are most of the houses, whitewashed, with frescoes on some of the frontages. Each house has a vine growing over its portico, so that the town appears to be draped in green. I wondered how a madness had come on the inhabitants of so quiet and clean a place, and decided that it must have been from some god. I could see plenty of women and children at the windows and in the streets. They seemed well dressed and perfectly sane.

But the Lemnian women had massacred all the men on the island - in these nice clean streets, in those small tidy houses. I shivered and kept my eyes on Herakles and Jason, walking ahead. Authalides was muttering under his breath, rehearsing what he was going to say to the queen of Lemnos. The woman at my side was deep-bosomed and strong, wearing a bronze breastplate and graves and armoured sandals. She carried a spear as though she was born to it, but her face was not cruel. She turned to me a little, when she felt me looking at her, and gave a small smile. She did not look like a monster.

We came up the great stair, under the portico decorated with carved vines and grapes, and into the audience chamber of the queen of Lemnos. She was sitting on a white marble throne with a high back and carved arms. We paced to her feet and bowed, and our guards withdrew to the door.

The lady of Lemnos was tall and impressive. Her hair was black, her skin the colour of pale honey, and her eyes a most startling shade, almost green. She was robust and richly curved, a true woman in shape. She wore the purple robes of kinship which must have belonged to her father, and held his sceptre across her lap.

'You are Jason, son of Aison? Speak your embassy,' she said.

Authalides stepped forward, dropping to one knee, and began his argument.

'Lady of Lemnos, great Queen Hypsipyle, we beg leave to remain with you. For it is the end of the sailing season. Soon the cold winds will blow and the seas rise, and our gallant ship cannot live in such conditions. If you will not accept and harbour us, great Queen, we will have to fly this day for Thrace.'

'Why should I allow you to stay on this island, herald?' she asked. 'Are you not aware that no man lives any longer in my realm?'

'We are aware of your action, Lady, doubtless inspired by a god. But consider, great Queen. By killing all your men, you have condemned yourselves to extinction. No woman is immune to age, Lady. Soon - ten years, twenty years - you will be past childbearing, and those who are still children will wither untimely, until the Thracians come and settle this island afresh, making slaves of the old women remaining. Warriors you have, Lady, but warriors age, lose their skill and their aim and their sight, and you will have no small girl-fighters to don your armour after you.'

'You have a remedy for this?' There was a thread of amusement in the queen's voice, though her face preserved its regal blankness, and I began to hope for a good outcome.

'Lady, we are heroes,' said Authalides without turning a hair at this boast. 'We have here all the best men in Achaea on a perilous quest to regain the bones of Phrixos and the Golden Fleece. Here we have seed not easily to be found elsewhere - the seed of heroes. Here we have Ancaeas the Strong, Clytios the runner, Alabande and Erginos, Idas and Lynkeos, Oileus, Telamon, Nestor, Argos the shipwright, Tiphys the helmsman and other crewmen - we have Philammon the bard to sing for your delight, and Idmon the seer for prophecy. Here is Jason, son of Aison, of the royal house of Iolkos; Admetos, his half-brother; and Akastos, his cousin. From us you may breed heroes, Lady, and you shall have the raising of them, so you shall breed husbands to your pleasure.'

Authalides bowed his head, signifying that he had finished his speech. The queen looked aside to a woman in a plain tunic, who put back her veil, revealing an old wrinkled face.

'I say agree, Lady,' said the old woman. 'Put it to the vote, but we need children, or the Thracians will overcome us.'

'That is really your opinion, Polyxo?' asked the queen.

'It is. Better to give gifts than to be robbed. Let us take these Argonauts in for the winter. Let us choose which ones we want, let them lie with whom they will. The bard, and those who do not desire the flesh, may lodge in the temple of Artemis or Hera, and they will be fed. You women,' she called. We turned to behold a large gathering of women who had come in behind us and were standing quietly, listening to the queen and the old woman. 'What do you say? Shall we welcome them, or slay them now?'

'Welcome them,' said the woman in armour who had smiled at me.

'Welcome them,' said two maidens behind her, smiling at me.

'Welcome them,' said the queen, holding out her hand to Jason. He ascended the throne and cast his purple cloak around her shoulders.

What happened then is hard to remember.

I remember some of it very well - ah, very well. I remember being clasped to an armoured breast, sliding my hands to her sides to find the straps, and releasing the guard from her shell. And underneath she was smooth and soft, a strong woman with wide thighs and deep breasts which filled both my hands. I remember being danced through the streets of the town of Lemnos, someone shoving a cup of unmixed wine against my mouth, cutting my lip - though I never felt it - and the guard telling me her name was Iphinoe and that we were going to her house.

Then I lose some time. The next thing I remember was lying in Iphinoe's arms, kissing her breasts - such soft breasts, so wonderful, so smooth - and her hands moving over my body, pleasing me like the centaur maiden, except that before I reached a climax she shifted under me and I was inside her, into a liquid blood-heat sucking which melted my marrow and made me weep with joy.

And I remember waking up next to Iphinoe the next morning, sick but happy, and throwing up in the gutter outside her house next to my shipmate, Clytios, who was also drunk, vomiting, and covered in love-bites and bruises.

'You look terrible,' he commented, squinting at me in the morning sun.

'So do you,' I replied. 'Clytios, did she … did they?'

'Absolutely and all night. If this lasts the winter, I'll be a very happy shell of my former self. Now I'm going back to sleep,' he dragged himself into a crouch, 'And so should you. It'll be another long night tonight.'

I never asked Iphinoe whether she had had a husband or a son and had killed him. I didn't know how to frame the question, and she was very good to me, very close and warm and loving, all that winter, which was cold, with many storms. I had often wondered what it would be like to lie with a woman all night, my head on her breast. It felt wonderful. I never went from woman to woman, as some of the others did - particularly the heroes. Iphinoe said that they had no talent for love-making, so they were sent on, all women hoping to share their seed but not much liking their company.

I was learning what pleased Iphinoe. She was older than me and had borne a child, so she was familiar with the ways of Aphrodite and the flesh. She loved to be stroked. She would lie down under my hands and almost shudder with delight, and I learned to touch the places which made her gasp, judging my success by the convulsive movement which clasped my phallus and brought me to the peak of delight.

I know I pleased her, but she told me nothing. I never heard what happened to convince the women of Lemnos to commit their dreadful deed. I never shared in their worship of some strange local deity, whose very name it was forbidden to mention. I slept and I ate and I made love in firelight while the storms raged outside, but I reflected sadly that if this was love, I would never be satisfied with it. I was not part of Iphinoe's life, and never could be.

So when Herakles called a meeting I was glad to go. He surveyed the staggering remnants of what had been a fine healthy crew and said coldly, 'It is time to leave. I have spoken to the queen and to Hera the goddess. We are not allowed to recolonise Lemnos. We have a task to do. Look at you! Drunk in the morning and drunk at night. We are leaving in two days. At least, I am leaving, and Jason with me. You can stay if you like - but the Lemnian women have not abandoned their ways, and you won't survive
Argo
's sailing by very long.'

A sobering comment. Jason, who had lain all winter in the palace, was standing by Herakles. Behind him stood the Lemnian queen. Idmon, beside me, murmured, 'She's pregnant.'

Herakles had spent the winter in the temple of Hera. With him Hylas, unwilling and furious, had also stayed; as Herakles distrusted the women of Lemnos and Hylas was under his protection. Hylas had objected strenuously until Herakles threatened to send him home, after which he had followed the hero about all winter, helping with the carving and wood chopping and presenting a slightly suspicious picture of innocence. Philammon and Idmon had stayed together in the temple of Artemis with Atalante, who had not lacked for company amongst the priestesses of She Who Is A Bear.