Heroes: Volume II of Mythos

T HE G ROVE OF A RES Late that afternoon Aeëtes called a council of his leading warriors, chieftains and nobles. ‘This kingdom will be humiliated in the eyes of the world if we let Jason leave Colchis with the Fleece. It cannot be allowed to happen.’ The council murmured assent. ‘But how did he defeat the Khalkotauroi?’ asked one of the noblemen. ‘Yes, that’s what I want to know.’ ‘Perhaps I can help,’ came a female voice. They all turned to see Idyia, Aeëtes’ wife, standing in the doorway ‘Really, my dear,’ said Aeëtes, ‘this is a royal council. We cannot have women walking in and –’ ‘Oh well, if you don’t wish to know who is responsible for helping this Jason, it really makes no difference to me,’ she said, turning away with a shrug of the shoulders. ‘You know? Then you must tell us.’ ‘Our daughter Medea,’ said Idyia. ‘Who else is versed enough in witchcraft? Besides, I saw them together yesterday afternoon. She was kissing him.’ Aeëtes barked orders everywhere. ‘Find her! Arrest her! Imprison her!’ ‘But what if Jason gets away with the Fleece?’ said one of the generals of Aeëtes’ army. ‘I ordered that his ship be found. He won’t get too far without that.’ ‘Yes, my lord, but we have scoured the countryside far and wide without success. One party searched all the way to Phasis. The vessel must be out to sea.’ ‘Well in that case they’ll have to follow the river to join it. We can cut them to pieces if they try.’ We leave Aeëtes to his council and turn our attention back to Jason. We find him, having reunited with the four grandsons of Aeëtes, being led by them through the dusk of evening to the Grove of Ares. They were soon joined by Medea, who pulled up short at the sight of the nephews. ‘You!’ ‘Yes, it’s us, Aunt Medea! Jason has told us you’re are on our side. We’re with him too.’ ‘I’m glad to hear it.’ ‘Wasn’t it fantastic, the way that he dealt with the Khalkotauroi!’ ‘We watched the whole thing with Absyrtus through a gap in the hedge, didn’t we Absyrtus?’ Medea’s young brother, who had been hiding behind his nephews, came forward and smiled up at his sister. ‘Hey there, Medea.’ ‘You as well?’ ‘Let’s face it,’ said Melas. ‘None of us ever liked the old man, did we? He’s grown so cruel with age. And as for grandmother – she’s a dead fish.’ ‘Yes, yes,’ said Jason. ‘This is all very charming, but you must go now. Round up the crew and accompany them to the Argo. If I don’t join you tonight with the Fleece you are all to leave without me, you understand?’ ‘But –’ ‘This is not a subject for debate. Go!’ The four brothers and young Absyrtus left. Medea fell into Jason’s arms. ‘They are searching for me. My father must have guessed at my part in your victory. Oh darling, you were so splendid!’ They kissed. ‘We must hurry, my love,’ she said. ‘The grove is just there …’ Medea pulled Jason along with her and they hurried through a long avenue of trees. At the end stood a great oak. Moonlight streamed down upon it, illuminating the golden-scales of thick coils that wound around the trunk. As they approached, the head of a great dragon came round from the other side of the tree and opened its mouth with a hiss. ‘Whatever I do,’ Medea said quietly, ‘you are not to interfere. You promise?’ Jason nodded. He was content to keep his distance. He had never seen a dragon before. Were they all as huge as this one? It raised its head high and gazed down at them. Medea stepped forward. The dragon hissed. Medea threw up a hand and sang out some words that Jason could not quite hear. The dragon lowered its head so that it was level with Medea. She stared deep into the vertical slits of its yellow eyes, the eyes that could never close, chanting her incantations all the while. The dragon froze, its mouth sagged open and great strings of drool dropped to the ground. The grass and moss below hissed and steamed as the venomous saliva hit them. Medea took dried herbs, roots and flowers from her satchel and rubbed them into a ball in the palms of her hands. The dragon was frozen and immobile, but Jason could hear the slow panting of its breath. Medea pushed the ball into the dragon’s open mouth. It fizzed on its tongue; with a sigh, the creature lurched and tottered to the ground. ‘He’s sleeping,’ said Medea. ‘Now let’s take the Fleece and go.’ ‘But where is it?’ said Jason, gazing up at the oak in confusion. ‘The other side, you idiot.’ Jason moved round the trunk. The Fleece was hanging from the lower branches, but still too high for him to reach. Medea leapt on his shoulders, reached up and threw it down. It was a fleece of rough and ragged sheep’s wool, of the kind you might see draped on the hedges of any field. But it was gold, so very gold. It shimmered when Jason stroked it. A million sparkles of light glittered as he ran his fingers through its shining fibres. ‘Plenty of time to play with it when we are safely aboard your ship,’ said Medea. ‘Come!’ They stepped round the sleeping dragon and, hand in hand, ran laughing down the grove, the Golden Fleece slung across Medea’s shoulders like a peasant’s shawl.