Heroes: Volume II of Mythos

E SCAPE FROM C OLCHIS The Argo floated down the Phasis, the river’s current strong enough to speed them away from any pursuit. The crew had found their ship securely hidden under her camouflage netting. When the Argonauts saw Jason and Medea coming through the dark and the Fleece gleaming and streaming they had let out a great cheer. Now, as they glided down the river, each Argonaut came up in turn to touch it. When he had finished feeling it, Orpheus had tears in his eyes. ‘Men will sing of this through the ages,’ he said, ‘but let me be the first.’ He tuned his lyre and softly sang as the other Argonauts approached one by one to admire the Fleece. The grandsons of Aeëtes and young Absyrtus were open-mouthed with astonishment. ‘Only seen it from a distance,’ they said. ‘Never thought this day would come.’ Nestor was as profoundly moved as Orpheus. ‘Yet there is a long distance, and a long time, between here and now and Iolcos,’ he warned. ‘Aeëtes will surely pursue us. They say he has a navy second only to that of Minos of Crete.’ Jason had long grown accustomed to relying on Nestor’s wisdom. When everyone had finished paying homage to the Fleece, he took Nestor and Ancaeus the helmsman aside. ‘I agree that Aeëtes will come after us with all the force he can muster,’ Jason said. ‘What do you advise we do about it?’ Nestor considered awhile before speaking, a habit of his that irked many but which guaranteed that nothing foolish ever came from his mouth. ‘Aeëtes is certain to discover that the Symplegades are no longer blocking the Bosporus. News that the passage between the Propontis and the Euxine Sea lies open will have spread through all the ports and towns in the region. He will pursue us there. Therefore we should go another way.’ Jason stared. ‘What do you mean “another way”? There is no other way. The Euxine is an inland sea. The Bosporus is the only connection with the Propontis and thence the Hellespont, the Mediterranean and home.’ ‘What about the Istros?’ said Nestor. ‘The Istros!’ Jason leaned forward and kissed Nestor on the forehead. ‘You are a genius, my friend.’ ‘Yes,’ cried Ancaeus. ‘Istros! Why didn’t I think of that?’ The Istros was a long river that flowed through many strange kingdoms to the north of Greece. It rose somewhere in the barbarian west, but its great delta drained through the northwestern shore of the Euxine Sea. We call it the Danube today. Nestor explained to the two helmsmen, Ancaeus and Euphemus, that they could sail up the Istros, across the top of Thrace and westwards along the river courses almost to Galatia; from here they could voyage south along the western coast of Italy, round Sicily and the Ionian islands, thence to the Peloponnese and north along the east coast of Greece for Thessaly and Iolcos. This would entirely fool Aeëtes, who would be certain to go the direct route – the route the Argo had taken on her outward voyage.fn63 They reached the port of Phasis without incident, stocked the Argo with as much food, water and other necessary provisions as they could barter or buy and, barely four days after Jason and Medea had passed Aeëtes’ three tests and won the Fleece, they were sailing across the Euxine Sea heading northwest for the Istrian delta. By the afternoon of the first day out from Phasis, it was apparent that a ship was in hot pursuit behind them. Keen to disguise their intentions, they changed course, as if heading to the Bosporus. Medea looked back and recognised the prize galley of the Colchian fleet. ‘It is my father,’ she said. ‘His is the fastest ship in the world. It has three banks of oars.’ ‘He’s gaining on us,’ said Jason. ‘Damn. We’ll have to turn side on and fight.’ ‘He has a catapult on board. He will happily toss balls of flaming pitch onto our decks. He stops at nothing to get what he wants.’ ‘But he would burn the Fleece along with us.’ ‘That wouldn’t worry him. He’s fighting for pride, not the Fleece. But fear not, my darling Jason, I stop at nothing too.’ She took Jason’s face in her hands and kissed him hard. ‘Back in a moment.’ Jason turned back to watch the Colchian ship bearing relentlessly down upon them. It was close enough now for him to be able to make out the brightly coloured prow, dipping and rising in the waves. It was painted to look like the face of the guardian dragon of the Golden Fleece. Medea returned to the sternpost, arms around her young brother Absyrtus. ‘Look, there’s daddy’s ship,’ she said, pointing. Absyrtus’s eyes widened. ‘He’s going to be so cross when he sees me.’ ‘Upset rather than cross, I think,’ said Medea, cutting open the boy’s throat with one swift stroke of a curved knife. Jason stared in horror as the blood gushed from the child. ‘Medea!’ ‘The only way,’ said Medea. ‘Fetch me an axe, and hurry – they’re gaining on us.’ The boy’s head was the first to go overboard. It bobbed along in the Argo’s wake. Jason and Medea watched as the ship of Aeëtes slowed down, raised its oars and came to a stop. ‘He loved that boy,’ said Medea, looking on with satisfaction. ‘He will never allow his soul to go the underworld unless the body has been purified and all proper funeral rites observed.’ Jason said nothing. Medea was beautiful. She was devoted to him. But there were limits. Surely there were limits.