Lynceus made a feeble attempt at a grin. Carefully setting aside his pack and his sword, he advanced briskly. He feinted to the right and left in a series of quick movements, then instantly retreated. The ferryman did not react.
Lynceus began to circle the grizzled ferryman, making jabbing motions with his arms. Gradually he drew closer and closer until he strayed within Argos’ reach. The ferryman immediately seized him by the arm and flung him over his shoulder like an empty grain sack. Lynceus tumbled head over heels, then slowly got to his feet, clutching his shoulder and grimacing.
The sight of his brother’s pain was all the prompting Idas needed. “To Hades with your plan, Acastus!” he cried out, and charged the ferryman with unexpected speed, ramming his shoulder into the man’s midriff. Argos staggered back, winded. Idas grabbed his leg with both hands and tried to flip him over, but the ferryman planted himself like a rock and clamped his arms around Idas’ waist. Flipping the boy completely upside down, he flung Idas onto his back.
As soon as he landed, Idas leaped up and kicked the ground in frustration. He made to attack again, but Argos raised a cautionary hand.
“The rules were one throw wins,” he said. “Don’t turn your courage to dishonor, young warrior.”
Idas simmered for a moment, then turned and stalked away.
“This isn’t going to work, is it?” Jason said softly to Acastus.
“Do you have a better plan?” Acastus snapped back.
“Not yet,” Jason admitted.
“Then you can stand here and watch while I fight. At least I have the courage to try.”
He stripped down for the contest and advanced toward the ferryman. Falling into a fighting crouch, he stretched his arms out in front of him, searching for a hold.
“Go on, Acastus!” Idas roared. “Knock him senseless!”
The others joined in the cheering, all except Jason. If Acastus lost, it would all be up to him, and he knew he could not outwrestle Argos. The ferryman’s muscles had grown massive from poling his boat back and forth across the river; he was probably strong enough to toss a bull on its head.
No, Jason thought, Chiron’s always said my wits were my best weapon.
Suddenly he was shaken from his thoughts by a huge groan from his companions. Argos had thrown Acastus flat on his back. Winded, the prince clambered painfully to his feet, spurning the help that was offered to him.
Jason realized the ferryman was gazing directly at him.
“There’s only you left now, youngster,” he said. “Do you want to take a beating, too, or will you just concede?”
Jason looked around at the others, their faces expectant, but not hopeful. Then he looked at the wide expanse of the river. All at once he knew what he had to do.
“My friends are all better fighters than I,” he said humbly. “What would it prove for you to flatten me as well?”
“In that case,” said the ferryman, folding his arms, “the contest is over.”
CHAPTER 22
THE FERRYMAN’S PRICE
EVEN ACASTUS WAS STUNNED. “I never really thought you were a coward, Jason. Not until now.”
“Jason, fight him!” Idas roared. “Show some honor!”
Jason waved them to silence and addressed the ferryman. “The contest isn’t over, not if you give me the chance to best you in some other way.”
Argos eyed him suspiciously. “What do you mean?”
“There are better tests of strength than wrestling.”
“Oh, are there? And what might those be?”
Jason shrugged and pointed to the river. “Could you hit the far bank with a stone?”
The ferryman looked across the water and stroked his grizzled beard. “No man could throw that far.”
“Let that be our contest, then,” said Jason. “Whoever can hit the far side with a stone wins.”
“It’s a waste of time,” said Argos. “Let’s just wrestle and get it over with.”
“Don’t tell me you’re not up to the challenge!” Jason exclaimed.
For a moment the ferryman bristled. Then he gave a chuckle. “You’ve nerve enough,” he said. “I suppose you’re a prince, too.”
“No,” said Jason, “I’m Jason of Mount Pelion. I’m a student of the centaur Chiron.”
“Now him I’ve heard of,” said Argos. “They say the pines on that mountain of his make the finest ships’ timbers in all of Thessaly.”
“So do you agree to my challenge?” Jason asked.
Argos stroked his beard a few times, then agreed. He looked around the bank and picked up a stone the size of his fist. He hefted it in his hand to test its weight and nodded. “This should suit. Now you pick one.”
Jason scanned the ground at his feet and picked out a much smaller stone, one he could completely enfold in his fingers.
“Right, then,” said the ferryman, “would you care to go first, Jason of Mount Pelion?”
“No, it’s your boat and your river. You take the first throw.”
Argos shook his arm to loosen up the muscles, then he drew it back. With a grunt he launched his rock into the air. All eyes followed it as it arced over the river. Only a few feet short of the far bank, it dropped into the water with a splash. Argos turned to Jason and grinned. “Give up?”
Idas shook his head gloomily. “You’ll never match that, Jason.”
For a moment, Jason acted as if awed by the ferryman’s strength. His jaw dropped. He took a deep breath.
Acastus gave Jason a contemptuous glare. “What did you think you were doing? You can’t beat him any more than we could.”
Jason turned to Lynceus. “Loan me your sling, would you?
Lynceus pulled the sling from his belt and handed it over. “You might as well have it,” he said, wincing. “That brute bashed in my shoulder when we wrestled, so I can’t use it anyway.”
The ferryman folded his arms and looked from Jason to the far bank of the river, then back again. He said nothing, but his eyes had narrowed warily.
Jason placed the stone in the sling and started to wind his arm. He swung the sling around, twirling it faster and faster until his arm started to ache. Then he let loose the missile. The stone shot over the water faster than a racing bird. Then it struck the edge of the sand on the other side.
Admetus and Lynceus cheered uproariously.
Acastus and Idas looked to the ferryman, uncertain of how he would react.
It was Alcestis, though, who said what the others were thinking. Frowning at Jason, she shook her head. “That was hardly fair. You were supposed to throw the stone.”
“No,” said Jason, “the challenge was to hit the far bank with a stone. I never said anything about throwing.”
All at once Argos’ grim face broke into a wide grin, and he laughed uproariously. “He used his head,” he said, tapping himself on the temple. “That’s more than any of the rest of you bothered to do.”
Jason tried to hand the sling back, but Lynceus declined it. “Keep it, Jason. It’s a poor enough gift, but it’s no use to me with my shoulder wrenched like this. And take my pouch of stones as well. You’ve more than earned them.”
“We can have the boat, then?” Acastus asked.
Argos thrust out his hand. “The agreement was that I would sell it to you if any of you could best me.”
Acastus reluctantly slipped off his amulet and dropped it into the ferryman’s palm. Argos stuffed it carelessly into his belt.
“Time’s running out,” said Jason. “We’ve got to get started.”
“I should warn you,” said Argos, wrinkling his nose, “I’ve seen a goat swim faster than this raft. She’ll be dashed to pieces before she gets in sight of Lake Boebis.”
“Hoi!” exclaimed Jason. “You said you built her with your own hands.”
“Yes, to carry passengers, baggage, even goats and sheep, from one side of the river to the other. I didn’t build her to go through the Dragon’s Mouth.”