“Right,” said Lynceus with a nervous grin, “the six of us will be more than a match for all of them.”
“The five of us,” said Jason. “Melampus needs to stay behind to take care of Chiron.”
“Right, the five of us,” said Lynceus, his grin falling apart. “More than enough.” But his face spoke differently.
While Melampus changed Chiron’s bandages and brewed a fresh herbal draught under the old centaur’s directions, Jason and the others ate a quick breakfast. Then they began to collect their weapons and supplies.
The boys took a javelin and a short sword each. Admetus slung his bow on his back, while Lynceus stuffed a slingshot into his belt and hung a pouch of smooth stones there as well.
Jason’s hand hovered between sling and bow, undecided. He was a better shot with the sling, having brought down many rabbits and partridge. And the bow would be an extra burden while scrambling up a mountain. But then he saw Acastus watching him, and he remembered how the Iolcus prince scorned the sling, calling it a peasant’s weapon. “Fit only,” he’d once said, “for those who have not the wealth to buy a bow nor the skill to make one.”
Impulsively Jason snatched up the bow and a quiver of arrows, thinking, Do you see, Acastus? I have chosen a prince’s weapon. But in his heart he felt a strange pang, as if he’d committed a betrayal.
While Idas and Admetus packed bundles of salted meat and fish, bread and cheese, Lynceus went to fill their water skins from the nearby spring.
“Better today than yesterday,” Acastus said. “If we’d been this well armed then, none of those centaurs would have made it this far.”
Idas nodded his agreement, but Admetus seemed not so certain. “Or we could all be dead on that hillside,” he said.
Secretly Jason agreed. After all, they were just boys, not men. And while he knew himself good with the javelin, having killed wolves and deer before he was even twelve, he didn’t know if he was strong enough to go up against centaurs. Chiron was right. They would have to use their wits and a good helping of stealth.
“What do you say, Jason?” Idas asked.
“I say we fight first, boast after.”
Acastus laughed. “I think that Goat Boy is afraid.”
Jason left them to finish the packing and went back to talk with Chiron. The centaur dismissed Melampus with thanks and beckoned Jason closer.
“I don’t like to leave you this way,” Jason said.
Chiron waved his concerns aside. “Though he is no Asclepius, young Melampus is already a skilled physician. He will take good care of me. Besides, I’m stronger than you think. It is difficult to kill off an old centaur.”
“If we only had the Gorgon’s blood—” Jason began.
Chiron cut him off. “Nature will heal me without any such aid. To use it without need is to insult the gods and anger the Fates. Promise me you will never even think of using the blood. And be sure you stop Nessus before he does.”
Jason bit his lower lip. “Master, perhaps Acastus is right. Perhaps we do need to find help.”
“I was not entirely honest with you, my boy,” Chiron said. “It is not only the time that matters. Secrecy also matters. No one else must know what those jars hold. Think what would happen if the Gorgon’s blood were to fall into the hands of King Pelias or any other tyrant. That would be as bad as letting Nessus have it.”
“Is the king such a bad man?”
Chiron was silent for a moment, then said, “He has his son Acastus’ worst qualities magnified a hundred times, and with no one to speak to him of justice and virtue.”
Jason tried to imagine such a creature. It made him shiver.
“No,” Chiron said, “Pelias must not even hear of the Gorgon’s blood. The fewer who know of its existence, the better. Do not tell the boys what is in those jars. Just that it is something with which humans must not tamper.”
“But are we five strong enough to take on those wild centaurs?”
“I know you are only boys, Jason. Still, you all have spirit and courage. However, you will have to lead them, for only you have the wit for it, and the knowledge of the mountains. Only you can find the centaurs in time.”
“How can I lead them? They are all nobly born, while I …” Jason hated the whine in his voice, but somehow he couldn’t seem to control it.
Chiron rubbed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. “I knew this day would come, but I did not think it would be so soon.”
“Knew what day would come?” Jason leaned toward him.
Regarding him squarely, Chiron said, “You have every right to be their leader, Jason, for you are no lost orphan, though I have always let you think so.”
Jason gaped at the centaur. “Then who am I?”
“You are the rightful prince of Iolcus.”
Jason laughed out loud. “And my father, I suppose, is the king of the gods, mighty Zeus. Nessus must have landed an awful blow to your head, master. You’re raving.”
Chiron did not look away but stared steadily at Jason.
“But Acastus’ father, Pelias, is king of Iolcus,” Jason said.
“In name only,” said Chiron. “In truth it is your father, Aeson, who should be sitting upon the throne.”
“My father …” The word suddenly sounded so strange. All these years he’d been told his parents were dead. No, he thought, this is too fantastic. He shook his head. “You’re only saying these things because you want me to find the Gorgon’s blood. It’s another one of your stories.”
“It is the truth,” said Chiron. “A truth I was sworn to keep from you till the time was right. Sit close and listen, and I will tell it to you quickly, for you must not delay much longer.”
Jason refused to sit, watching as the old centaur shifted, trying to find a position in which his injuries did not hurt him too much. “When Cretheus, your grandfather, was king of Iolcus, he took a foreign wife named Tyro. She gave him three sons: your father, Aeson; Pheres, who is the father of Admetus; and a third son, Amphythaon, who sired Melampus.”
“I am cousin to Admetus and Melampus?” Jason was too stunned to ask more.
Chiron nodded.
Then Jason blurted out, “So who is Pelias?”
“Tyro’s son from an earlier marriage, a brute and a bully even as a child, who was much indulged by his mother, for he was the only one like her in looks and temper. Your grandfather was a kind man who cared for young Pelias as though he were a true son. Alas that it should have been so. The gods have a strange sense of humor sometimes.”
“I think I would have liked my grandfather,” said Jason, his disbelief fast fading.
“By the time old Cretheus died, Pelias had gathered a band of strong-armed warriors around him and took control of the palace, claiming it his as the eldest son, even though he was no blood of the king.”
“But,” Jason objected, “then he had no right to the throne.”
“No, but once a cruel and ruthless man has seized power, it takes a stronger man than your father to unseat him,” said Chiron. “And Aeson had always been a kind and simple soul who had no thirst for power or glory. Nor did he want to plunge his beloved Iolcus into a bloody civil war. In fact, his clear lack of ambition was all that kept him alive with that bullying older half brother in power. He was simply no threat at all. He retreated to a country house with his scrolls and his music and lived a quiet life. There he married in secret, a woman as kind and retiring as he. But when she gave birth to a son, Aeson feared that Pelias would see the child as a threat to his own heir, Acastus. So Aeson did the bravest thing he’d ever done in his life—he kept your very existence a secret and brought you to me to be raised and protected, to be prepared for the day you would return to Iolcus to reclaim your birthright.”