Jason and the Argonauts (4 page)

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the same Pellena that their grandsire Pellen

had founded on the brow of Aegialus.

Euphemus
, next, came to them from Taenarus.

He was the fleetest-footed man alive.

Europa, lordly Tityus' daughter,

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had borne him to Poseidon. He could dash

across the whitecaps of the dull gray sea

without submersing his precipitate feet.

Only his toes would touch the liquid path.

Two other of Poseidon's sons arrived—

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Erginus
who had left the citadel

of glorious Miletus, and superb

Ancaeus
who forsook Parthenia,

cult center of Imbrasian Hera. Both

exulted in their sea- and battlecraft.

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From Calydon came Oeneus' son,

strong
Meleager,
with
Laocoön

Oeneus' half brother. (Yes, the men

had different mothers, since Laocoön

had been begotten on a serving maid.)

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Oeneus sent him forth, old as he was,

to chaperone his son. Thus Meleager,

young as he was, made one among the heroes.

I suspect that, barring Heracles,

none of the men who went would have surpassed him

280
if only he had stayed another year

back in Aetolia and reached his prime.

His mother's brother came along as well—

Iphiclus
son of Thestius, a man

skilled equally in close- and long-range combat.

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Palaemonius
was next to come

and join the expedition. Though reputed

the son of Lernus of Olenia,

he was in fact the
offspring of Hephaestus.

His feet, therefore, were hobbled like his father's,

290
but no one ever dared to slight his brawn

and battle skills, and so he made the roster

and added more renown to Aeson's son.

Next came Phocaean
Iphitus
, the son

of Naubolus and grandson of Ornytus.

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This Iphitus, you see, had played the host

when Jason went to Delphi to consult

the Pythian oracle about the voyage—

yes, it was there at Delphi he received

the hero at his palace as a guest.

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Zetes
and
Calaïs
were next to join.

Orithyia had borne them to the Northwind

on the frontier of blizzard-haunted Thrace.

You see, while she was whirling in a dance

beside the eddying Ilissus River,

305
he snatched her up out of the land of Cecrops,

whisked her far away, and set her down

near the Erginus River on a crag

called “Rock of Sarpedon” today—that's where

he blanketed the maiden in a mist

and ravished her.

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Their sons arrived on flapping,

dusky wings that grew out of their ankles

(
a wonder to behold)—those golden scales,

those feathers shimmering. The jet-black braids

that sprouted from their heads and tumbled down

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across their backs kept swaying in the wind.

Even
Acastus
—yes, the very son

of stubborn Pelias!—refused to miss out

by staying safely in his father's palace.

Argus,
the shipwright of Athena, too.

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Both of them claimed their places on the roster.

Such were the men who rallied to assist

the son of Aeson. People took to calling

these heroes “
Minyans,” since most of them

(and many of the stronger fighters) claimed

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descent from Minyas' daughters. Jason

was Minyan himself: Alcimede

his mother was the daughter of Clymena,

and she, in turn, was Minyas' daughter.

After the slaves had placed those goods aboard

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that ships require when business forces men

to sail abroad, the heroes strode through town

to where the
Argo
stood upon a shorefront

known as Magnesian Pagasae. Though crowds

of giddy citizens had gathered round them,

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the heroes shone like starlight between clouds.

The men who watched them marching under arms

stood wonderstruck and muttered to each other:

“King Zeus above! what's Pelias' plan?

To what wild tract outside Achaean lands

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has he dispatched this large brigade of heroes?

Well, let's assume they're sailing to Aeëtes.

Even if he refuses them the fleece,

they could destroy his palace with consuming

fire in a single day. But, ah, the voyage—

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that's the hard thing, not to be avoided,

a chore impossible to all who try.”

Thus were the townsmen talking, while the women

raised their hands and asked that heaven grant

a heartwarming conclusion to the voyage.

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Tears flowed as they lamented to each other:

“Poor Alcimede, anxiety

has come to you as well, however late.

No, you have not concluded life in splendor.

And Aeson, too—he's terribly unlucky.

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The honest truth is it would have been better

if he had wound up shrouded long ago

and stowed in earth and so remained unwitting

of this atrocious quest. I wish the waves

had swallowed, darkly, Phrixus and the ram

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along with that girl Helle when she drowned.

That baneful beast spoke with a human voice

only to cause Alcimede distress

and countless sorrows in the days to come.”

So they commiserated as the heroes

marched to the launch.

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At Jason's home a crowd

of serving men and women had assembled.

When his mother poured her arms around him,

poignant grief pierced every woman's bosom.

Aeson was lying on a cot, wrapped up

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in shawls because of his decrepit age,

groaning among the women.

After Jason

had done his best to soften their distress,

he bade the slaves collect his battle gear.

They heeded the command in perfect silence,

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eyes averted. But Alcimede,

who had embraced him when he first appeared,

refused to let him go, and only sobbed

with greater violence.

As a lonely maiden

clings desperately to a gray-haired nurse,

380
her last remaining friend, and weeps because

she lives a heavy life without protectors,

only a stepmother who so assails her

with fickle insults and relentless scorn

that she cannot stop weeping, and her heart

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is bound and gagged by all this misery,

and she cannot sob out the countless sorrows

that throb within her, so Alcimede

was weeping, weeping, and she couldn't stop.

Squeezing her son, she wailed in despair:

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“I wish that on the day when I first heard

Pelias, much to my dismay, pronounce

his cruel commandment, I had left off living

and blacked out all my woes. Then, oh, my son,

you could have buried me with your own hands.

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That was the sole remaining expectation

I had of you, since I had long enjoyed

all other joys of motherhood. Though once

the envy of Achaean woman, I

shall now be left here like a slave to tend

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an empty palace, withering away

with missing you, the son because of whom

I had such fame and glory in the past.

For you alone, my first and last, I loosened

my bridal sash. The goddess Eileithuia

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begrudged me many children. Ah! not ever,

not even in my dreams, did I imagine

that Phrixus' escape would prove my ruin.”

So, sobbing, she exclaimed and heaved a groan,

and all her handmaids wailed in turn, but Jason

soothed her with sympathetic words:

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“Please, Mother,

don't lay such bitter pains upon yourself,

since you will not drive off distress with tears

and may well end up heaping further sorrow

upon your sorrows. Sudden are the woes

415
the gods allot to mortals. Strive to bear

your portion of them, though it pains your heart.

Take courage from Athena's covenants,

from oracles (since Phoebus has delivered

highly favorable prophecies),

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and from the strength of heroes. Now stay calmly

here among your handmaids. Don't become

a bird of dire omen for the ship.

My friends and slaves will walk me to the shore.”

So he proclaimed and set out from his home

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to make the quest.
Think of Apollo striding

out of a fragrant temple and parading

through holy Delos or through Claros, Pytho,

or level Lycia along the Xanthus—

that is how Jason strutted through the crowd.

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The townsfolk with a single voice let out

a cheer, and venerable Iphias,

priestess of Artemis the Town Protectress,

came shuffling up to him and kissed his hand.

Try as she might, she never got a word in

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because the crowd kept pressing close around him,

and she was left behind them on the roadside,

an old woman abandoned by the young,

and there was Jason shrinking in the distance.

And so he left the well-paved streets of Iolcus

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and came down to the beach at Pagasae,

and all the heroes waiting there for him

beside the
Argo
welcomed his arrival.

He stopped above the launch, and they assembled

opposite. Soon they glimpsed two men together—

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Argus! Acastus!—marching from the city.

Everyone was amazed to see them coming

in spite of Pelias' orders. Argus,

Arestor's son, had thrown around his shoulders

a rough dun-colored ox hide that was flowing

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down to his feet; Acastus, an exquisite,

two-layered cloak his sister Pelopeia

had given him. For all of his excitement,

Jason restrained himself from asking questions

and called for order, and the men sat down

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upon the furled sails and level mast,

and he proposed
the course he thought most prudent:

“All the gear a ship requires for travel

has now been snugly stowed, and there's no reason

for more delay. We will be setting forth

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soon as the proper winds are blowing. Comrades,

because our journey homeward will be shared,

and shared our voyage to Aeëtes' realm,

choose freely, now, and without prejudice

who in the crew you wish to be your leader—

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some man to manage details and engage in

wars and alliances with foreigners.”

So he submitted, and the young men swiveled

their eyes and stared at
mighty Heracles

sitting among them, and they all insisted

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he lead the quest. He stayed right where he sat, though,

held his right palm out, and said in answer:

“No, no, let no one offer me this honor.

I won't accept. What's more, I will prevent

the rest of you from standing for the job.

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The man who called us here should lead our party.”

Such were his mighty words, and all the heroes

assented with a single voice because

Heracles was the one who had proposed it.

The son of Aeson jumped up and addressed

his eager comrades:

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“Men, if you have truly

entrusted this position to my care,

let nothing more delay our expedition.

Come, let us first propitiate Apollo

with sacrifices, then at once prepare

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a feast. While we are waiting for the servants

who oversee my cattle stalls to drive

the largest of them here, let's drag the
Argo

down to the sea, stow all the gear aboard her,

and settle which of us will take which bench

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by drawing lots. We also should construct

a seaside shrine in honor of Apollo,

the God of Embarkation, since it was

his oracle that vowed to send me signs

and teach me all the highways of the sea,

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so long as I began my expedition

by giving sacrifices in his name.”

So he proposed and was the first to take up

the tasks at hand. The others duly rose,

stripped off their clothes, and laid them, piece by piece,

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above the surf upon a flat smooth stone

sea storms had long since scoured clean.

First off,

with Argus in the background shouting orders,

the heroes ran a triple-braided cable

snugly around the ship and pulled it taut

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from either end so that the bolts would stick

faithfully in the planking and withstand

whatever violence the sea swell sent them.

Next, they industriously dug a trench