weight forward,
gathering now for the charge. The Argonauts trembled,
watching.
But Jason planted his feet far apart and waited, as firm as a reef in the sea when it takes on the billows in a
gale. He held
his shield in front of him. The bulls, bellowing loudly,
came at him.
They struck. He shifted not an inch. They snorted,
spewed from their mouths
devouring flame. He was not devoured. Their heat came
down
like lightning shocks, like waves of lava. But Jason held. Seizing the right-hand bull by the tip of its horn he
dragged it
slowly toward the yoke, then brought it to its knees
with a kick
and, casting his shield aside, he yoked it. And so with
the second.
Aietes frowned and mused.
“Then Jason ploughed, his shield
on his back, his helmet on his head, his sword in his
hands like a goad,
pricking the great beasts forward. The earth turned
black at their fire,
but the furrows turned, the fallow lay broken behind
them.He sowed
the teeth, cast them far from himself, taking many a
backward glance
to be sure no earthborn demon should catch him
unawares. And the bulls,
thrusting their sharp bronze hooves into earth, tolled
on till the day
was two-thirds spent. The work of the ploughman was
done, the wide field
ploughed. He freed the bulls, shooed them off. They
fled across the plain,
bellowing, tossing their heads, still huffing fire. He
quenched
the fire in his throat at the bordering river, then waited
with his spear.
And now — it was dusk — the earthborn men came
sprouting like barley.
The black earth bristled with bucklers, double-headed
spears, and helmets
whose splendor flashed to Olympos. They shone like a
night full of stars
when snow lies deep and wind has swept off the clouds.
But Jason
remembered the counsel of Medeia of the many wiles:
picked up
a boulder from the field — a rock four men would have
strained to budge—
and staggering forward with the rock in both arms,
he bowled it toward them,
and at once crouched behind his shield, unseen, full
of confidence.
The Kolchians gave a tremendous shout, and Aietes
himself
was astonished to see that great ball thrown. But the
earthborn men
fell on one another in a froth, and beneath each other’s
spearpoints
toppled like pines uprooted in a violent gale. And now, like a thunderstone out of heaven, pursued by its fiery
tail,
the son of Aison came, spear flashing, and the dark
field streamed
with blood. Some fell while running, some still
half-emerged,
their flanks and bellies showing, or only their heads.
So Jason
reaped with his murderous sickle that unripe grain.
Blood flowed
in new-ploughed furrows like water in a ditch.
“Such was the scene
the Lord of the Bulls surveyed, and such was his rage
and grief.
For he knew well enough whence came this miraculous
power in the man.
He went back numbed with fury to the city of the
Kolchians.
So the day ended, and so Lord Jason’s contest ended.
15
The witch slept, and in dreams the goddess Hera filled her heart with agonizing fears. She trembled like a fawn
half hidden
in a copse at the baying of hounds. Her eyeballs burned;
her ears
filled with a roar like the crashing of a tide. She played
again
(it was no mere game) with the thought of some
deathwort painless and swift.
Far better that than the vengeance her father would
devise. (She’d seen him,
a shadowy form in her sorcelled mirror, seated with
his nobles,
preparing his treacherous stroke.) She groaned,
awakened in terror,
the shadow of a crow on the moon. She slipped her feet
down, groping,
moving in silence to the box where her potions were
locked, then paused,
remembering the stranger’s words. It was not possible,
perhaps—
and yet, perhaps in that kinder world … In haste, half
swooning,
Medeia kneeled down and kissed her bed, her eyes
streaming,
and kissed the posts at each side of the folding doors,
and the walls.
She snipped a lock of her hair for her mother to
remember her by,
and then, to no one in the darkness, whispered,
Farewell, Mother.
Farewell Khalkiope; farewell my home, my beloved
brother,
farewell sweet rooms, old fields…’ She could say no
more, sobbed only,
‘Jason, I wish you had drowned!’ Then weeping like a
newly captive
slave torn roughly from her home by the luck of war,
she fled
in silence swiftly through the palace. The doors,
awakening
to her hasty spells, swung open of their own accord.
So onward
barefoot she ran down narrow alleys, her right hand
raising
the hem of her skirt, her left hand holding her mantle
to her forehead,
hiding her face. Thus swiftly, fearfully, she crossed
the city
by lightless streets, and passed the towers on the wall
unseen
by the watch. The moon sang down, cool
huntress-goddess, grim:
‘How many times have you blocked my rays by your
incantations,
to practice your witchery undisturbed — your search for
corpses,
noxious roots? How many times have you terrified
innocents,
raising up devils, the shadow of wolves, along country
lanes?
Go then, victim of the mischief god! Seek out thy light, sweet Jason, life-long heartache! Clever as you are,
you’ll find
there’s deadlier craft than witchcraft stalking the night
Go! Run!’
“Thus sang the moon. But Medeia rushed on, and
arrived at last
at the high earth sconce by the river and, looking
across it, caught
the bloom of the Argonauts’ bonfire, kept all night,
celebration
of victory. She sent a clear call ringing through the dark to Melas, Phrixos’ son, on the further bank. He heard and recognized her, as Jason did. They spoke to the
others.
The Argonauts were speechless with amazement and
dread. Three times
she called; three times they shouted back, rowing toward
her.
“Before they’d shored or cast off the hawsers, Jason
leaped
light-footed from the Argo’s deck, and after him
Phrixos’ sons.
At once she wrapped her arms around Jason’s knees,
imploring:
‘Save me, I beg you, from Aietes’ wrath — and save
yourselves.
Our tricks are discovered; there’s nothing we can do.
Let us sail away
before he can reach his chariot I’ll give you, myself, the golden fleece. I have spells that can bring down
sleep on the serpent.
— But first, before all your men, you must call on the
gods to witness
your promises to me. You must vow you will not