The Golden Fleece

by Robert Graves

Jason replied: ‘I learned in Samothrace how to conduct myself prudently when I am dead. I do not wish to be reminded by you that I may soon have to put this knowledge into practice. Be silent, if you please!’

  Orpheus said to Hercules: ‘Most noble Hercules, since I am forbidden to address our leader, may I address you? For I understand what Iphitus has in his mind.’

  Hercules answered: ‘Well, Orpheus, you are an odd-looking anatomy, yet, for a man whose brother I brained with a lyre, you have always treated me well enough. If you have anything sticking in your throat, pray cough it out for me!’

  Orpheus answered: ‘I cannot speak plainly in the presence of three uninitiated persons; but if, at sunset, they consent to have their ears stopped with wax and their eyes blind-folded for a short time, we may sail through the Hellespont this very night. Let us drive on with the wind until we come to within a few miles of the entrance to the strait, and then we shall do what we shall do.’

  Meleager and Atalanta did not object to the proposal, and Hercules undertook that Hylas would obey orders. Thus Jason was overruled in his turn and the Argo drove on to the south-east, while all the oarsmen snatched a short sleep. They awoke at evening to find themselves four miles west of the entrance to the Hellespont. No sail had been sighted all day.

  Then Orpheus blind-folded Meleager, Atalanta, and Hylas, and stopped their ears with wax. As soon as he could speak freely he reminded Jason that it was foolish for initiates of Samothrace to regard themselves as the helpless sport of the winds: let them put to immediate use the charms and incantations taught them by the Cabeiri in the name of the Great Ones.

  Jason neither agreed nor disagreed, but took refuge in gloomy silence while Orpheus, who of all the Argonauts was the least likely to blunder in the Samothracian ritual, invoked the Triple Goddess in her name of Amphitrite. He poured a jar of olive oil upon the waves and in her name respectfully called upon the North Wind to cease. For a while the North Wind, whom his sons Calaïs and Zetes also respectfully invoked, made no response, except for a single furious blast that nearly tore the mast out of the ship, but then gradually ceased. When the air was at peace again, though the waves still heaved sullenly, Orpheus tied an adder’s skin to the heel of an arrow and, borrowing a bow from Phalerus, shot the arrow out of sight towards the north-east, calling on the South-West Wind to follow. While they were waiting for the new wind to rise, Peleus, who was the craftiest man aboard, said to Jason: ‘My lord, let us lower the sail and stain it black.’

  Jason asked: ‘For what purpose?’

  Peleus answered: ‘Otherwise the Trojan watchmen will see it shining in the moonlight as we sail through. A black sail will cheat their sight.’

  Argus objected that a tarred sail would be awkward to handle, and that they would be obliged to disembark somewhere and kindle a fire to heat up the ship’s tar-pot. But Peleus said: ‘I have a better stain than tar.’ Among the dainties that he had brought from Lemnos was a jar of costly cuttlefish ink, squeezed from the ink-sacs of hundreds of cuttlefish. This ink, a sweet addition to a stew or to barley-porridge, is of a very dark colour. Augeas, Idas, and the other gluttons resented that so delicious a liquor should be put to so wasteful a use; but it was found that, by mixing it with water, only half the contents of the jar would suffice for dyeing the whole sail to the colour of seaweed.

  The Argonauts lowered the sail, painted it on both sides, and hoisted it again. No sooner were the sheets made fast than the South-West Wind could be heard sweeping towards them from the distance, bringing with it rain that whipped the surface of the sea, and soon the sail bellied out and the Argo sprang forward. At this they unstoppered the ears and unbound the eyes of the uninitiated. As the darkness grew, they saw indistinctly in the distance the white cliffs of Cape Hellas and felt the speed of the ship slacken as the current of the Hellespont opposed her. At the suggestion of Peleus they muffled their oars and the two rudders with strips of old cloth. ‘Fortunately,’ said Tiphys, ‘the current is weaker on the Thracian than on the Trojan side. It also has fewer eddies, because the coastline runs straighter; yet even on the Thracian side it may well be running at two knots.’

  Soon Jason enjoined the whole crew to silence, and they entered the Hellespont itself. The sky was overcast, the moon showing only as a luminous patch behind whirling cloud. Lynceus then served his comrades well. He mounted on the prow and according as the ship approached too near the shore (which for others was a mere wall of darkness) or kept too far away, he signalled to Tiphys by pulling either once or twice at a cord that he held in his hand; for the other end of the cord was tied to the knee of Tiphys. The oarsmen kept a measured stroke, though with no song to help them, and for hours together laboured on in silence, with the wind still fair behind them. Only at one point, the Dardanian narrows, did Tiphys steer into mid-stream, the current being reputedly weaker there than inshore. The oar of Lynceus was taken by a grey-bearded, burly Lapith, an initiate of the Great Mysteries, who had joined the Argo from Samothrace: this was Polyphemus of Larisa, who had married the sister of Hercules and was in perpetual exile from his city, having accidentally killed a little girl with his hunting knife. Hercules held him in esteem and affection.

  At dawn, the Argonauts found themselves close to Sestos, a bluff headland beyond which lies a little bay with a sandy northern shore, and a stream tumbling into the middle of it. Across the water stretched a low green line of grass-covered coast hills, the district called Abydos. They disembarked by the stream and stretched their limbs, some gathering driftwood for a fire, some playing at leap-frog. Jason disguised the figure-head of the ship, superimposing on the Ram’s head another that he had brought with him: the head of a horse made in stout leather painted white; for the White Horse was the figure-head of all the vessels that plied to Troy from Colchis. Now that they were some thirty miles beyond Troy, and in waters not commanded by the Trojans, it would be thought, Jason hoped, that they were subjects of King Aeëtes returning to Colchis from a trading voyage. At Sestos, when they had heaped sober sacrifices to Amphitrite, in gratitude for her help, they decided to rest a day and a night. But the wind veered to the north-east, which is the prevailing quarter for winds in the Hellespont, and blew hard for two days and nights; they could not resume their voyage until the third morning, when it shifted again to the south-west. During all their stay at Sestos nobody came to disturb them, except a shepherd boy who fled like a hare when he saw the glittering company of strangers, and left some of his flock in their hands.

  They made fair progress through the narrow strait, hugging the yellowish cliffs of Thrace, and evening found them well within the Sea of Marmora. They sailed on throughout the night, now changing to the opposite shore, for the wind had veered to the south. Great Ancaeus took the helm from Tiphys, who had earned a long sleep.

  ‘Where is our next port of call?’ Acastus, son of Pelias, asked the company at large.

  Hercules, who was amusing himself by idly twisting the bronze sword of Little Ancaeus into a serpentine shape – without permission – was the first to answer. ‘So far as I remember,’ he said, ‘there is a large rocky island, called Bear Island, not far from here – about a day’s sail with a fair wind. It is a peninsula, in reality, not an island. The King is a friend of mine – what is his name? I have forgotten, but he is a true friend of mine, believe me – and has built a city on the flat isthmus joining the island to the shore. A big clear lake lies in the hills behind, from which a stream runs down to the city. King Aeneus – that is the name, of course – grazes a multitude of fat sheep beside the lake and the stream. His people are the Dolionians, a sort of Achaeans, who worship the God Poseidon. He will welcome us with open arms, I have no doubt. His kingdom extends into the hills behind for a good distance, and along the coast on either side of Bear Island. The inhabitants of the island itself are Pelasgians. Aeneus is always at war with them. When I was last in these parts I went out across the isthmus and killed a few of them for him. They are big men, and I found gre
at pleasure in knocking their skulls together, did I not, dear Hylas?’

  With oars and sail they made an excellent run that day. By noon they had sighted Bear Island, with its conspicuous peak, Mount Dindymos, and were coasting past the nearer corn-lands of the Dolionians. The fertile coastal strip slowly narrowed and the hills, covered with low oak-trees and cut with gullies, fell to the water’s edge. Here, putting in at a cove, where the beach consisted wholly of shells, the Argonauts removed the Horse from the prow, revealing the Ram, and hoisted the spare white sail instead of the dark one; then they sailed on until they could see the lime-washed walls and tiled roofs of the city of which Hercules had spoken. It was named Cyzicus after its founder – Cyzicus, the father of Aeneus.

  They anchored in the snug harbour without fear, and Jason sent out Echion the herald to the palace; where he was received with high honour and assured that all the Argonauts, but especially Hercules, were welcome to remain in Dolionian territory as long as ever they pleased.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Wedding Feast of King Cyzicus

  The Argonauts found that King Aeneus had been dead for several months and that his elder son Cyzicus, a man of about Jason’s age, had succeeded him. Cyzicus had just married the most beautiful woman of all Asia. Her name was Cleite, daughter of the King of the Percosians, whose white-walled city on the Trojan side of the Hellespont the Argonauts had passed on their way up from Sestos. Cleite’s father, Merops, so far from settling a dowry upon her, which, as he said, would have been like spreading honey on honeycomb, had boldly announced that no man should win her in marriage who would not undertake to pay the heavy tribute lately imposed on Percote by Laömedon of Troy. Cyzicus, who had seen Cleite by chance one day as he sailed down the strait, and could not thereafter banish her image from his mind, presently paid the tribute, which was a great sum in gold dust and cattle, and, as was natural in a young man, considered that he had the best of the bargain. But his brother Alexander called him spend-thrift and absented himself from the wedding, pleading sickness. Perhaps he was jealous. It was on the second of the five days allotted to the festivities that the Argo sailed in. Cyzicus, having issued a general invitation to all Greeks to partake of a feast and prepared a superabundance of food, rejoiced to welcome a ship-load of the most distinguished fighting men of Greece, among them the great Hercules, his father’s ally.

  Within an hour of their landing the Argonauts had been bathed, anointed and perfumed and were reclining in their best clothes upon soft couches, together with numerous other wedding-guests. A hundred beautiful boys brought them whatever food and drink they desired and crowned their heads with chaplets of spring flowers, while musicians, seated in the painted gallery above them, played gentle Lydian music. But Phalerus the archer and Idmon the augur kept guard aboard the Argo, ready at the least sign of treachery to blow the alarm on conches.

  Cleite was as beautiful as report made her. She had pale features, very thick black hair, and grey eyes; but her beauty lay chiefly in her carriage and gestures, in the grave sound of her voice and in her full lips, which never quite smiled. Cyzicus was fair-haired, ruddy-faced, given to laughing heartily, much inclined to adventure. He and Cleite seemed a perfectly matched pair, and as they passed together down the line of couches and courteously enquired from every man whether he was well served, they were followed by unstifled sighs of admiration.

  Cyzicus paid the greatest deference to Hercules, whom he concluded to be the true leader of the expedition, whatever Echion had said to the contrary. With his own hands he poured him wine in an embossed goblet on which Hercules himself was depicted with a Bear man in either hand, dashing their skulls together merrily and making the brains fly. When Hercules had rumbled with laughter at this, Cyzicus displayed the other side of the goblet, embossed with a design of men fighting together desperately and of others leaping into the water from a raft. ‘Those are the Pelasgians of Proconesos,’ he said, ‘the allies of the Bear men. They raided our city soon after you had gone away. We lost many of our comrades before we drove them off. If only they would renew the attack while you continue here as my guest – that would be a jape! The surprisers would be surprised indeed.’

  Hercules answered: ‘King Cyzicus, the visit that I paid to your city while your father Aeneus was still alive, I found singularly pleasant; this visit I am finding no less so. But pray address your wise and flattering speeches to the commander of this expedition, Jason of Iolcos – look yonder, he is the man with the long fair hair – not to me. Leave me to this excellent side of beef, and good luck go with you and your beautiful wife! I am happy to listen to your words while I eat, but as happy simply to eat. You waste your eloquence upon Hercules, the old glutton.’

  Cyzicus smiled and passed on. He invited Jason to recline at a gilt-legged table opposite to Cleite and himself. When Jason was well settled, with feather cushions under his head, a richly embroidered rug spread over his knees, and fragrant wine from Lesbos at his elbow Cyzicus pressed him to reveal confidentially the object of his voyage. This, Jason was unwilling to do. He would say no more than that a god had put it into his heart, and the hearts of his comrades, to venture into the Black Sea.

  Cyzicus answered politely: ‘Indeed! What part of that vast and unfriendly water did the god recommend as worthiest of your interest? Are you perhaps on a visit to the Crimea where the savage Taurians live, who love human sacrifices and adorn the stockades of their towns with human heads? Or is Hercules taking you with him to visit his old enemies, the Amazons? Or is your goal the Olbian country about the outfall of the noble river Boug, where the best honey in the world is produced?’

  Jason, evading all these questions, caught at the mention of honey, and beckoned Butes to take part in the conversation, reporting to him what Cyzicus had said about the produce of Olbia. Butes pressed Cyzicus for information about the colour, scent, taste, and viscosity of this honey, and when Cyzicus gave him only vague or random answers, was not offended but chattered learnedly and long about the behaviour of bees. He asked: ‘Have you noticed, Majesty, that bees never sip nectar from a red flower? Being givers of life, they avoid the colour of death.’ Then, being a little drunk, Butes began to speak bitingly of the God Apollo’s patronage of the Bee, which had formerly been the servant of the Cretan Goddess. ‘He who was once the Mouse Demon of Delos! Mice are the natural enemies of bees. They invade the hive in winter-time and steal the honey, the shameless thieves! I rejoiced last year when I found a dead mouse in one of my hives. The bees had stung him to death and prettily embalmed him in bee-glue to avoid the stench of death.’

  So he ran on; and, when he paused to drink another goblet of wine, Jason began questioning Cyzicus about the navigation of the eastern part of the Sea of Marmora, and about the spring currents in the Bosphorus. But Cyzicus considered himself under no obligation to give any detailed answer, and returned pleasantly to the subject of honey. So the two fenced together for a while, until Jason, in no good humour, excused himself and returned to his former couch. After a while Butes followed him, from good manners.

  Cleite said to Cyzicus: ‘My darling, have you noticed that this Jason has white eye-lashes? My father Merops once warned me against men with white eye-lashes. They are all untrustworthy, he said. Can it be that this Minyan has come to sack our city, and intends to wait until all your loyal comrades are drowsy tonight from good eating and drinking?’

  ‘My darling,’ said Cyzicus, ‘it may possibly be so, though I cannot agree that it is probably so.’

  ‘Hercules and Jason both seem to be hiding something from us,’ said Cleite, ‘as you must admit. And the Bee-man spoke in a very disrespectful way of Apollo, as if tempting us to do the same, and so stir up trouble. Confess that you thought this strange!’

  ‘I did,’ said Cyzicus. ‘Well, wise one, what do you advise?’

  ‘Warn Jason,’ said Cleite, ‘that his ship’s present anchorage is not safe until she can be provided with heavier anchor-stones. Mention
the north-easterly gales. Advise him to shift her berth while your men bore him a couple of really heavy stones. Recommend the protected cove just across the isthmus – Chytos is the name, is it not? Offer him a boat to tow her there. He cannot very well refuse your offer. And if he is planning any sudden treachery he will have to reconsider his plans; for an escape from the palace would not be easy with his ship so far away.’

  Cyzicus took her advice and presently made the proposal. Jason considered it a reasonable one and accepted it at once with evident gratitude. But Hercules, shrewdly suspecting that Cyzicus had some motive, other than his alleged one, for shifting the Argo’s berth, declared that wherever she went, he and Hylas must also go; and Peleus and Acastus said the same; and Polyphemus said that he did not wish to be parted from Hercules, whom he reverenced above all living men. These five quitted the feast, and were towed in the Argo to Chytos cove, where they anchored her; but the merry-making at the palace continued all night.

  Cyzicus, from something that Jason incautiously let drop, guessed at first that the purpose of the voyage was to trade at Sinope, or some other Black Sea port, where Eastern goods might be bought at a far lower price than at Troy. But if so, why were so many kings and noblemen aboard? Perhaps something more important was planned. Could they be visiting, in turn, all the petty kingdoms of the Sea of Marmora and the Black Sea, with the intention of building up a sworn confederacy against Troy and Colchis?

  He asked Jason this question point blank, and when Jason hesitated to commit himself, declared that if the Greeks made war against Troy, he and his father-in-law, Merops of Percote, with many other neighbouring monarchs, would gladly come forward as allies.

  Jason amused himself by allowing Cyzicus to believe that he had guessed correctly. He even hinted that his first port of call after leaving Cyzicus would lie in the territory of King Phineus of Thynia, whose two foster-sons, Calaïs and Zetes, had (he said) come to Greece to propose a war against Troy, and were now returning in the Argo.