Jason and the Gorgon's Blood (3 page)

“You
expect?” Acastus laughed. “And who are you? A peasant boy whose parents threw him out to make room for more goats.”

That was so close to what Jason feared, he shot back without thinking. “And what did
your
father throw you out for?”

This obviously hit too close to the bone. Acastus jumped to his feet and shoved Jason backward with both hands. Jason staggered and only narrowly avoided tumbling into a pricker bush.

“If Chiron is such a wise teacher, he should have taught you to know your place, Goat Boy. Be careful what you say to princes. Don't raise your voice to them, don't talk back to them, and never …
never …
presume.” Acastus' face blazed red. “If this were my father's palace, you'd be whipped for saying such a thing.”

Hoi,
Jason thought,
and what a sore spot that is!
He suddenly realized that another word on the matter and he would provoke Acastus beyond any kind of apology. Then a fight between them would be inevitable. Chiron had warned him repeatedly that the virtuous man does not fight unless there is no other choice. And while Jason knew he could probably hold his own in a fight with Acastus—despite the prince's greater height and weight—he immediately lowered his voice. “Do what you like, Prince Acastus. We need to be finished here before it gets dark.”

He turned to rejoin the others as they finished gathering the herbs.

“So you're afraid of the dark as well,” said Acastus, his voice like a sting.

Jason felt his fingers curl into fists, all of Chiron's words of wisdom drowned out by the drumbeat pounding in his head.

“What's that?” Admetus exclaimed suddenly.

In the distance Jason could hear an ominous rumble. So the drumbeat wasn't just in his head.

“Is it thunder?” Melampus rubbed his brow and squinted at the sky.

Admetus looked up as well. “No, the sky is clear.”

“It sounds like horses,” said Idas.

“Idas is right,” said Lynceus. “Maybe it's chariots.”

Acastus kicked a stone. “That would be just our luck, running into a raiding party of Thracian charioteers. May the gods curse Chiron for sending us out here in the middle of nowhere without our weapons!”

“A lot of use weapons would do the six of us against a Thracian war band,” said Admetus.

Jason listened carefully to the sound. He knew he'd heard it before. Then he had it. Turning to the others, he said, “That's not thunder or horses or a war band of charioteers. It's something much worse.”

“What are you talking about, Goat Boy?” snapped Acastus.

Before Jason could answer, Lynceus was pointing to a cloud of dust at the far end of the valley. “There!”

“What is it?” Idas demanded. “What do you see?”

Lynceus strained his sharp eyes to identify the forms emerging from the dust. “Horses,” he said.

“Hah!” That was Idas.

“But I see men as well.”

“Chariots, then,” said Admetus.

Lynceus shook his head. “No, Jason is right. It's something else.”

By now they could all see what was approaching—a band of centaurs, a dozen of them at least, their long hair flying as they galloped down the valley.

“What do you think they want?” Melampus asked.

“Maybe to lecture us on knowledge and virtue,” drawled Acastus.

“These centaurs aren't like Chiron,” Jason warned. “They're wild.”

“A bit like us,” Lynceus joked, “except with twice as many legs.”

Before anyone could laugh at his joke, the centaurs were in the clearing, brandishing wooden clubs over their heads and whooping ferociously, heading straight for the boys.

Jason recognized the leader. His name was Nessus, and about a year before, he'd staggered into Chiron's cave, his flank ripped open by the spear of a Thessalian hunter. Pale and shaking, he'd collapsed on the floor before Chiron could catch him. In spite of the awful wound, Chiron had cured him, and Nessus had left a few days later.
And without a single word of gratitude,
Jason recalled.

Nessus wore what looked worryingly like a human skull suspended from a leather cord around his neck. The others sported necklaces and bracelets made from bones, claws, and horns. They'd painted the human parts of their bodies with streaks of dark blue and bloodred, which gave them a savage, warlike appearance.

“Not like us at all,” Jason told the boys quickly. “Chiron calls them a ‘rough and careless breed.' They live on raw meat, are usually drunk, and filled with rage. Chiron says they fight all the time, even among themselves.”

“They do look dangerous,” Admetus whispered.

“They
are
dangerous,” Jason said. “Chiron told me they kill humans who annoy them. He said that if I see any of them to just get out of the way.”

“Then why are we just standing here?” Acastus demanded. “We need to get to a spot we can defend.” He started toward a cluster of rocks, waving to the others to follow.

“No, this way!” shouted Admetus, dashing toward a stream. “The water will slow them down.”

Melampus started to follow him, then hesitated, torn between the two princes.

“Stop!” Jason cried. “We have to stay together.”

But it was too late. Idas and Lynceus had already bolted off in a third direction of their own.

At the sight of the boys fleeing, the centaurs redoubled their whoops and galloped even faster to intercept them. Two with dappled bodies pulled ahead of Acastus before he could reach the rocks. He stumbled back, arms shielding his head as the centaurs trotted around him, shaking their clubs.

Another centaur, with a long gray tail, caught up with Admetus and cuffed him on the back of the head, knocking him flat. Admetus scrambled desperately away, got up, and staggered back toward Jason.

The two brothers were cut off as well, by a trio of dark-bodied centaurs who herded them toward the rest.

“You didn't even try to get away,” Acastus said, sneering at Jason.

“I stood my ground,” Jason retorted. “All you did was give them some sport. And showed them how weak we are.”

Now the centaurs had formed a loose circle around them and were whirling their weapons in the air. Occasionally one would rise up on his back legs, front feet pawing the air. They shouted back and forth to one another, mocking the boys with their neighing laughter.

The boys pressed together, back to back, as the centaurs drew closer.

“What do we do now?” Acastus whispered to Jason.

“I wish I knew,” Jason said, his voice cracking on the final word.

T
HE BIG CENTAUR NESSUS
fixed Jason with a contemptuous glare. “Look, here's Chiron's pet boy.”

“So, are you
all
pupils of the good and wise Chiron?” sneered a centaur to his right, whose eyebrows met in the middle, which only added to his bestial appearance.

“What are you doing out here in the wild? Hunting monsters?” cried a third. His horse body was spotted, as if with some terrible disease. “Perhaps you've found them!” He beat his fists on his chest.

All of the centaurs seemed to think this was outrageously clever, and they laughed loudly.

“But wait!” said Nessus. “They have no weapons. What's the matter, little warriors? Forget your swords and spears?”

“We'll have them next time!” Acastus burst out.

Jason wanted to knock him flat for being so stupid. The last thing they wanted to do was antagonize the centaurs. He stepped forward. “Chiron sent us to fetch herbs for a healing draught,” he said quickly. “We're not hunting.” He held up empty hands. “As you noted—we have no weapons.”

“A huntsman once tried to kill me!” Nessus roared in sudden anger. “Tore me up with his spear. But I survived.”

The other centaurs applauded and several laughed again, a long neighing sound.

“Yes, I remember,” Jason began in a soft voice. “I helped Chiron heal—”

Nessus did not hear, or deliberately wished not to hear, interrupting Jason. “I tracked him down later. He claimed when he threw his spear he thought he was aiming at a deer. A deer!”

The centaurs laughed and called to one another: “A deer! He thought Nessus was a deer!”

“Well, he won't be hunting deer again,” Nessus shouted above them, “because I cracked his skull open—like this!” He lashed out with his club, and Jason had to duck to keep his own head from being smashed.

The others centaurs apparently thought this looked like fun, for they lunged forward, swinging at the boys with their clubs. The boys had to duck and dodge for all they were worth, and still some of them took blows to the back or shoulder.

Finally the centaurs were laughing so hard they had to stop their game so they could catch their breath.

Admetus, who had taken at least one blow—for his shoulder was already purpling—whispered to Jason, “We could make a dash for it. Maybe some of us could get away.”

“You tried that already,” Jason reminded him. “There's nothing the centaurs like better than chasing running prey.”

“So what do you suggest?” Acastus snapped. “That we just stand here and take more blows?”

“Yes,” Jason answered firmly, “if we have to. Stand here until they get bored. They're not really very bright and they'll leave soon, as long as we don't provoke them.”

“They don't look bored to me,” Lynceus muttered, nodding his head at the centaurs, who were still laughing and slapping their hands together.

Just then the centaurs all looked up.

“Look at them, Nessus! Not much sport here,” called out the spotty centaur.

Another pointed at Idas. “That one at least seems big enough for a fighter,” he said. “But I doubt he has the spirit.” He trotted over to Idas, presented his rear to the boy, and whipped his tail across Idas' face.

Idas clenched his fists and started forward.

“Don't move,” Jason warned.

Idas clenched his jaw and stood his ground, though there were welts across his cheek where the tail had struck him.

“These are women, not warriors,” Nessus agreed. “Let's go … and leave them to their pretty flowers.”

“There's still some fun to be had,” cried a centaur who wore a necklace of bear claws around his neck. “Let's chase them across the valley and
then
hunt them.”

Nessus walked over unhurriedly and grabbed hold of the bear-claw necklace, twisting it so tightly it choked the centaur till his face turned purple. “Have you forgotten what we're really after, Hylaus?”

Hylaus raised a hand, signaling his obedience, and Nessus released him. Then, lofting his club high above his head, Nessus galloped off across the meadow and into the trees. The others followed, shouting and whistling and waving their clubs.

Idas picked up a rock and was about to throw it after them, but Acastus grabbed his wrist and held him back. “There'll be another time,” he promised through gritted teeth. “Another time when we're armed. With bows as well as swords. Let that rabble try us then!”

The boys shouted their agreement.

“For now can we finish what we came here for?” asked Jason.

Halfheartedly, the boys returned to their work. Even Acastus helped to gather some herbs. It was as if the meeting with the wild centaurs had given him some sense of comradeship with the others.

By the time they had filled all the herb bags, the sun was sinking to the west beyond the Bay of Thessaly and Acastus' city of Iolcus.

“Maybe we should find someplace to sleep for the night,” said Lynceus, stifling a yawn. “Chiron is probably still mad at us anyway.”

“If we don't go back he'll be even madder,” said Jason.

“We could just not go back at all,” Acastus suggested.

“That's very well for you, Acastus. Your home is just down there.” Lynceus waved a hand vaguely toward the west. “But some of us have a long way to travel, and we'd have to do it without food or drink or weapons or coins.”

“Hold on,” said Admetus. “Look at Melampus.”

The gangly Melampus was standing up straight and staring fixedly at the sky. He'd gone as rigid as a spear shaft.

“What is it, Melampus?” Jason asked. “What's the matter?”

Melampus pointed to a flock of birds wheeling across the sky, filling the air with their piercing cries.

“They're upset,” he said. His brow wrinkled in concentration. “They're speaking about Chiron.”

“Oh, he's not listening to the birds again, is he?” Idas groaned. “I swear the gods stole his wits when he was in the cradle. I mean, who can believe that story about the grateful snakes?”

“What story?” Jason asked.

“You must have slept through it, Goat Boy,” Acastus said with a sneer. “He's told the rest of us often enough.”

“But I don't know …” Jason began before Idas interrupted him.

“Well, Melampus claims that as an infant he helped some snakes and they licked his ears and after that he could understand the language of animals.”

“I can believe that,” Jason said quietly. “He's very good.”

“And I,” Admetus said.

Acastus laughed. “If you believe that rubbish, you're as mad as he.”

Melampus hissed and waved his hand irritably for silence. “Let me listen!”

“Listen away if you will, but I'll tell you what they're saying: ‘Worms, flies, barley seed,'” Acastus said in a high-pitched voice. “They're saying: ‘Hawks, owls, foxes, look out!'”

“No, they're not,” Melampus said. “They're saying there's been trouble … a fight … in Chiron's cave. They're saying that if we knew any better, we'd be heading right back there now.”

Jason grabbed Melampus by the arm. “What about Chiron? What are they saying about Chiron?”