Medea (14 page)

Blood ran down the seer's breast from his wounded shoulder, but he did not seem to have noticed. 'A good omen for the ship, that she should go and return,' he said in a flat voice. 'She has great protection from heaven; a divine hand is over her.' He raised Argos and the old man was about to kiss his hand in thanks when the augur added, 'And for me, death. Yet I will not turn aside from Fate. Até cannot be avoided or controlled.'

He dipped one finger in his own blood and wrote a sign on the keel, a sacred sign, apparently, because the ship-wrights knelt and bowed their heads to it. Then Idmon the seer went away.

My sense of unease was growing again.

But it was a fair day, tending towards hot, and there was nothing yet to fear. Herakles looked over the ship, grunted, and sat down in the shade, turning his shell to the light. I took one of the flasks of wine and water, cooling in the shallows for the refreshment of the labourers, and poured him a cup, kneeling down and holding it out at arm's length, as the centaur my master had instructed me.

He took the cup, saying, 'Seat yourself, son of Iolkos. Drink with me. How came you, an honest fisherman by the look of you, to be the close friend of Jason?'

I told him about the time with Cheiron. There was something about Herakles which invited confidences. I watched Jason, Atalante and Lynkeos walking the length of the Argo and, interspersed with the hero's comments on my tale, I listened to their conversation.

'But she is made of green wood,' objected Atalante. 'How can such fresh planks sustain the strain? She will warp and twist as the wood seasons.'

'You are a great hunter, or so men say,' retorted Argos, nettled. 'But you know nothing of my craft. The ship-builders of Iolkos always use green timber. As she sails, she will settle. See, here, the boards are locked together, mortice and tenon. They cannot move. When she is launched, daughter of Calydon, you will hear her sing in the wave.'

Atalante agreed peaceably that she knew nothing about shipbuilding, and a mollified Argos took them forward, where the woodcarver was attaching the figurehead.

'It came to me in the night,' he said excitedly. He was a small man with curls of wood in his hair. 'I was going to carve the bull's head for Iolkos, when she came.'

'Who came?' asked Hylas, yawning.

'The goddess herself, boy. Hera, queen of heaven. She turned her head and smiled at me, a woman crowned with stars. She stayed with me long enough for me to draw her, and I have carved what I saw.'

Herakles and I looked. The bow-post was the torso and head of a woman of surpassing strength, not beauty. Her nose was a beak, her cheekbones high and shaped like the keel of a ship. Her mouth curved in a smile. I shivered. I did not like that smile.

Herakles patted my arm. 'She is not a goddess to be taken lightly,' he said. 'All my life she has guided me, from the challenge she set me when I was eight monts old and strangled her snakes in my cradle, to the deeds which made me a hero. Yet no man has endured such sorrow as mine. Battle rage takes me, and I slay all around, onlookers and innocents. She sent that rage, Hera, wife of Zeus Thunderer. The gods design fates for men, Nauplios, and there is no gainsaying them. But maybe you have been fated to return safely and marry here, and fish peacefully for the rest of your life. Be cheered. Have some more wine.'

'What think you of the crew, Lord?' I asked, daring to ask his opinion. He turned the blue-green shell, and bright lights flashed across his broad face.

'I am glad that we have Idmon, even if he is doomed, and Philammon the bard with us,' he said slowly. 'Tiphys is a good helmsman, though far too vain of his own beauty. Lynkeos is keen sighted, and although his brother Idas is a boaster, he has great strength. I am glad to see Ancaeas the Strong, almost my match in strength, who can balance me at the centre oar. A modest man. Nestor will be valuable, though Authalides' skill as a herald has been over-rated. He fell in love with the sound of his own voice many years ago, and cares not what effect he has on his own audience, and that is bad for a herald. Clytios and Atalante are very skilled with the bow. I hope that she can convince this crew to treat her as a comrade, as is right in a dedicated maiden and daughter of the She-Bear Artemis, goddess of hunters. They are both runners, so can be put ashore to search the land while the ship sails beside them. Admetos is a good fighter. Alabande does not brag, but is strong and skilful with an oar. As for Telamon, Perithous, Erginos with his grey hair, Meleagros and Oileus - well, Nauplios, strong men boast of their strength, not knowing that it comes from the gods. If Hera is with Jason and he can command his crew, then we may get to Colchis alive - though whether we can obtain the Golden Fleece is another matter. Very perilous, Colchis, or so the tales say. There are witches there who can charm the heart out of a man's body.'

'You must have met witches before, Herakles,' I suggested.

'Oh, yes, I have met with sorceresses,' he replied. 'I have defeated them, too, though I would always rather reach an agreement than do battle. For if I do fight, Nauplios, I win. I always win. Until my fate overtakes me, I cannot be bested. Not by men and not by monsters.'

'Lord, tell me - why is Hylas here? He seems - I mean, he looks unused to warfare.'

'He is also unused to travel,' said the hero, moving his shell into a better light. His voice was quite devoid of any expression. 'I killed his father in a quarrel. He tried to cheat me out of an oxen. The rage came on me and when I came back to my body there was Dropian, hacked to bits. Fortunately his son did not see this. I buried the pieces, made the libations, and went to tell the boy of his father's death. He demanded to accompany me, and I am bound to him by a blood-debt. But he is joyful and witty,' said Herakles. 'He will get bored soon, and I will be discharged of this burden. I've been fighting off his suitors the length of the road to Iolkos, and he is likely to cause trouble among the crew if any find him comely. But there is no vice in him, man of Iolkos. He is a child.'

Hylas did not seem childlike to me. He was flirtatious and knowing. I wondered if he was the hero's lover, as well as his bond-master. I really could not decide.

Then a shipwright called to me to come and tar the fathoms of closely woven rope which would manoeuvre our sail. I left Herakles to contemplate his shell and crouched down next to the tar-pot, an expensive substance won from Libya, where black, evil-smelling oil bubbles in pools into the sand and shrouded men gather salt and bitumen with a basket on a pole, swiping across the surface. They sell it for its weight in bronze, which they need to make knives.

No one could really relish the smell of this oily water-proofing - I would stink of it for days, I knew, unless I washed all over with soap-root and scrubbed my hands with volcano-stone - but I soaked and coated the lines carefully, so that the salt would not penetrate and rot the ropes. Then I sniffed and leapt to my feet in alarm.

Argos had finished conducting his guests on a tour, and was attacking the side of the now planked ship with a flaming torch. Just as the wood was about to char and catch, he moved on, so the whole side of
Argo
was smoked and blackened.

'What are you doing?' cried Jason, summoned from the shore by the scent of burning wood. Argos snarled, 'The wood is fresh, lord, and wet. The slots cut for the tenons must be dried, or the vessel will part from her timbers in the grip of Ocean, and down will go all your famous crew into the cold embrace of the sea-nymphs. Pegs,' he bellowed, and four men leapt to hammer in the tie-pins into the hull, securing the joints. Jason backed away and said nothing further, as the old man scorched the other side
Argo,
and I returned to my ropes and my tar-pot.

'Never question a master on his trade,' my father had told me. It was good advice.

Jason seemed about to speak again, but decided against it and walked back to the palace as the market-place began to fill.

 

Argo
was completed just before the end of sailing season. The shipwrights worked late by torchlight, on Pelias' orders. The heroes were eating him out of palace and city, and he was anxious to be rid of us.

I was just as anxious to go. My mother wept over me every day. I tried to explain.

'I am bound to Jason by an oath,' I said for the fortieth time, as she wove blanket thread into a cloak for me. The sound I always associate with my mother is the clack of her loom as the heddle claps flat against the wall. 'I must go, Mother. But I'll come back, I swear.'

'Aie,' she wailed, weaving and weeping. Tears ran down her face. 'Come back, yes, Nauplios, you'll come back like your brothers. More likely you'll be lost in the sea near Colchis, and I'll never have a body to anoint. A curse on Phrixos! I wish he'd fallen into the Hellespont, along with his sister!'

'Don't curse, mother, don't curse.' I came behind her and she leaned her head into my shoulder. 'There's enough ill-wishing on this voyage already.'

'Aie! I wish I had died giving birth to the first child, for there is nothing but sorrow for women. We bear in agony, suckle with our own milk, and then our children leave us. Oh, to be alive when my young sons are dead!'

'There is one son who will not leave you for many years yet,' I said, putting Autesion, my small brother, into her arms, and basely fleeing.

I found the crew assembling on the shore. The sail was sewn, the mast cut and planed smooth and the stores loaded. We had some trading silver, dried flesh and wine, and a quantity of meal. We would put in every night for water.

Around my waist I wore a belt made of bronze coins which my father had given me. I clinked a little as I moved. My mother's cloak was around my shoulders, for the wind was getting up, a fine breeze which might carry us out to sea without much rowing.

As we climbed aboard, I was amazed to see Argos the shipwright, in a black bull's-hide cloak, and Akastos, son of Pelias, hurrying through the market-place. I knew that Akastos, at least, must be there against his father's wishes. He tossed a rolled bundle aboard
Argo
and sprang up to follow it.

'Akastos?' asked Jason, puzzled. 'You are coming on this venture?'

'I am, and I suggest we set off before my father sends men to retrieve me. I know some navigation, cousin. Phrixos is as much my ancestor as yours - and I tire of palaces. Come, are we all here?'

Herakles walked aboard carefully, his weight balanced by Ancaeas the Strong. They sat down on the benches amidships. Then came Telamon, Perithous, Erginos, Idas and Lynkeos - who sat down as far apart from each other as a small ship would allow. Tithys took his place at the helm, with Atalante behind him, and Authalides and Idmon deferred to Philammon as to who should take the steerboard seat of honour. Nestor and Oileus concluded an argument on the respective merits of roast boar and boiled boar; Alabande returned Meleagros' dagger, with which he had been cleaning his nails; Hylas and Akastos were combing their hair; and Clytios was arranging a sheepskin to sit on. Everyone seemed to be present. Jason raised his hands.

Behind him, the sun was sinking. He was outlined black on a red, gold and purple sky - the colours of kingship.

'The ship is built,' said Jason. 'She is as beautiful as any vessel could be, and Argos, her shipwright, is coming with her on her first voyage. As soon as we can get a favourable wind, we can leave. Now, friends, we are all partners. You must choose a leader who will captain the ship to Colchis to retrieve the Golden Fleece. Choose carefully!'

He sat down. I closed my mouth only when I realised that I was gaping like a fish. Was Jason not to become captain of
Argo?
If not, what would happen to his destiny? And who would be leader? There was no doubt of the feelings of the rest of the crew. Beginning with Telamon, I heard them whisper, 'Herakles - Herakles the hero!' until Oileus stood up and proclaimed, 'We choose Herakles.'

I saw Jason's face at that moment. He was as white as a mortally wounded man is watching his blood spurt into the sand.

But he said nothing.

Herakles stopped the outburst with a wave of his hand. He did not even rise from the rowing bench, but growled, 'I will not accept this honour.' He laid one hand on his club and added evenly. 'Nor will I allow any other man to accept it. The one who assembled this crew must lead it.'

'Jason, Jason!' yelled Authalides. He was doubtless an excellent herald, but dangerous to the eardrums in the confines of a vessel. 'Jason commands the expedition!'

'Now that Pelias has heard our news, now that all of Centaurs' Mountain has heard, I'd wager, let us out oars,' begged Akastos. 'I shall be caught if we don't leave soon!'

'Prepare the ship,' ordered Jason. 'We must dig a launching furrow for
Argo,
then sacrifice to Apollo of Embarkations. Then, as soon as the dawn brings a wind, we shall leave on our mission for the king - for the bones of our ancestor Phrixos and the Golden Fleece.'

He jumped down into the sand and we all followed. Herakles and Ancaeas began to dig the deep gouge along which the ship would slide into the sea. I marvelled at their casual strength. Taking turns with broad shovels, they heaved aside enough sand to bury me with each stroke, talking the while, not even slightly out of breath.

'This must remind you of Augeas' stables,' said Ancaeas, spitting out sand.

'This is a better shovel,' replied Herakles, lifting the spade. 'He was a strange man, that king.'

'He must have been,' said Ancaeas, digging in turn. 'To have never cleaned out his stables.'

'Yes, almost as though he liked dung. When the water washed through the byres, he cried aloud, like a man who has been robbed. Then later I saw him sitting on a trough, dabbling his feet in the water and giggling.'

I passed down the beach, watching Argos ordering two turns of stout rope to be wrapped about the ship, which he fixed at the stern-post. He hung his adze just under the image of Hera, for some reason. Every craft has its mysteries, and it does not do to enquire too closely into them.

I joined the heroes, who were carrying oars to the ship, and we busied ourselves with loading all the remaining stores, the mast and sail and a few extra water casks. It was almost dark. No one had come from the market or the town to see what we were doing.