It now wanted five hours for nightfall and the Colchians hoped to overhaul the Argo, which was more heavily built than any of their vessels and slower both with oars and under sail. But the Argonauts, so soon as they saw the enemy’s vanguard rounding the headland behind them, and realized that they were being pursued, took to their oars and began rowing vigorously, as many of them as were not incapacitated by sickness. They kept their lead until darkness gathered, but with no hope of rounding Cape Lepte, which lay to their north-west: for the wind continued to blow from the north-east and they were already wearied by rowing.
Autolycus said: ‘Here we are back in Paphlagonian territory. What do you say? Shall we beach our ship among friends upon whom we can rely, and disembark and return to Greece by land?’
Argus cried indignantly: ‘What! Leave the Argo behind and the speaking branch of Zeus which is built into her prow? We Argonauts have sworn a blood-oath never to desert the Argo or one another.’
And Augeas asked: ‘What? A three months’ march through hostile tribes, and in the end to fall into the hands of our enemies, the Trojans?’
Medea said too: ‘I for one am unaccustomed to marching. My tender feet would be torn to pieces by the rocks and thorns before evening of the second day.’
Autolycus answered: ‘Yet, standing before a choice of evils, we counsel you to take the least noxious.’
Peleus said with decision: ‘Let us go ashore where there is water, I care not where, scour our jars well, refill them with clean water, and see what comfort the Gods bring us when we have done.’
So they put in at the Carusan river, which lies in the middle of the gulf between Sinope and the Halys, and there hastily scoured and refilled their water-jars. But Medea went out into the dark woods, which spread down to the water’s edge, to pick juniper sprigs and the pungent leaves of a small nameless herb, which are good against dysentery. She soon found what she needed, her nose guiding her, and returned to the ship.
When the water-jars were safely stowed away, Peleus asked: ‘Do I not hear a humming from the prow?’
Mopsus went to listen and reported: ‘The branch of Zeus is speaking again. It says: “To sea, Argonauts! To sea! Bring my Ram his fleece without delay.”’
But Idas mocked: ‘Can the old tup want so warm a covering in midsummer? Now is the season of shearing.’
Medea laughed aloud and Jason was vexed with her, but dared not rebuke her because of the double-eye.
They lowered their sails and put to sea again, using their oars, though they were very weary, and struggled against the wind, which was hard abeam. They puffed, sweated and pulled like plough-oxen when the field is clayey and the ploughman uses a sharp goad; they plant their hoofs deep and roll their bloodshot eyes from under the yoke, but still they pull.
Medea doctored the sick men, putting the rolled leaves of the nameless herb in their nostrils and under their tongues. Then she stood up in the stern, and the moon shone bright on her pale face and yellow hair. She raised her hand to command attention and made the Gorgon face, and ordered every man to ship his oar, to stop his ears with his fingers and to rest his head upon his knees. Then she called Atalanta to her, to act as her attendant.
Atalanta came willingly, for, though in her heart she despised Medea for having fallen in love with Jason and robbed Prometheus for his sake, she knew that only Medea could now save the Argo from the power of the Colchians. Medea and Atalanta together sprinkled the ship with juniper sprigs dipped in fresh water. Atalanta then blindfolded the eyes and sealed the ears of the sick men, and afterwards Medea uttered a prayer in the Colchian tongue which Atalanta did not understand, at the same time performing certain intricate gestures with her fingers. Then, between them, the two women hauled up the sail and made fast the sheets to the bulwark; together uttering screaming cries like sea-eagles at play.
The moon was suddenly obscured by a black cloud, and the wind veering obediently to the south-east, filled the sail and drove the ship along, while the men still sat mute with their heads upon their knees. Atalanta took the helm and Medea stood at the prow. Ahead of them in the gloom lay the dark shapes of two Colchian ships. For the leading squadron of the enemy fleet, instead of pursuing the Argo to the river, had sailed across the mouth of the gulf to cut off her retreat; and had lost sight of her in the darkness. Medea asked Atalanta: ‘Is the Argo stoutly built?’
Atalanta answered: ‘Most stoutly.’
‘Port your helm a little,’ said Medea. ‘And a little more!’ She fetched the ship’s pole and held it ready in her hands. There was a crash and a rending of timbers as the prow of the Argo drove into the port counter of the nearest Colchian. The Argonauts were thrown forward in a heap, and when they struggled to their feet, forgetting that they should be stopping their ears, Atalanta laughed at them and cried: ‘Alas, comrades, we have struck! We have struck upon a wooden rock!’
Medea had already pushed the Argo clear of the Colchian, which was settling down in the water nearly out of sight astern. The crew were yelling for help: ‘Save us, we are drowning! Save us!’
Medea told Jason calmly: ‘The other ship will go to their rescue. Let us sail on!’
Thus they came safely off with the water fetched from the Carusan river, scudded past Sinope and rounded Cape Lepte. But a part of the Colchian fleet was cruising ahead of them at a distance of half a mile, with lanterns shining at the poops. At this they changed their course, steering north-west for the open sea, in the hope that with the help of winds and currents, and by their own exertions at the oars, they might reach the Bosphorus before the Colchians, though on a longer tack.
The next morning, when they were well clear of the coast, and not a sail was in sight, Jason called a Council of War. Having learned not to be the first to speak, he asked the advice of Argus first, and next of Phrontis, son of Phrixus, and next of old Nauplius, and next of Autolycus the Sinopean, and lastly of Medea. Echion the herald, who had been disgusted by the ill-mannered controversy of the previous afternoon, now took it upon himself to regulate the proceedings with his twisted staff; for he had recovered from his dysentery.
Argus said: ‘There is only one way out of the Black Sea, namely the Bosphorus. Let us sail there as soon as possible, remaining at a distance of thirty miles or so offshore until the last day. Then, if we find the Colchian fleet assembled to guard the entrance, let us run on boldly. I warrant that the broken planks of the vessel that we rammed last night will be warning enough to our enemies; each in turn will sheer off and we shall come safely through.’
Phrontis, son of Phrixus, said: ‘The Colchians are not such cowards as you suppose, Argus. And if the wind proves contrary, or does not blow at all, many ships will crowd about us and hem us in. We shall be boarded from both sides at once and, however boldly we may fight, yet in the end we must be overcome.’
Old Nauplius said meditatively: ‘I have heard that the Bosphorus is by no means the only way out of the Black Sea. We have a choice of at least three others. Either we might sail up the Phasis river, and from the Phasis into the Cyrus river, and from the Cyrus into the Caspian Sea, and from the Caspian Sea into the yellow Oxus river which falls at last into the rushing Ocean that girdles our hemispherical world with its blue stream; and so homeward by way of Egyptian Nile – which also falls into the Ocean…
Autolycus laughed: ‘Alas, Nauplius!’ he said, ‘you have been misinformed. To pass from the Phasis to the Cyrus river the Argo would have to be propelled on rollers over rough tracks for as long a distance as it takes a train of baggage mules four days to cover. Moreover, the yellow Oxus nowhere approaches within a thousand miles of the Ocean.’
Old Nauplius said: ‘I do not believe it. You are retailing, doubtless in good faith, a story long ago invented by the Colchians in the hope of discouraging the maritime enterprise of us Greeks. But let that be, for none of us wishes to return home by way of the Phasis merely for the purpose of proving you a liar. The second route is by the Don, the great river tha
t enters the Sea of Azov near the territory of the Royal Scythians. We might sail up the river, which is very broad, for a hundred days, until we came at last to the White Sea, or Cronian Sea, which is frozen thick for nine months of the year, and –’
‘No, no,’ cried Jason, ‘that will never do. What is the third route?’
Nauplius did not care to be interrupted and, with the consent of Echion, he continued his account of the White Sea and of the witches who haunt it, and of the night of six months long, until everyone laughed at him. At last he spoke of the third route, which he commended as the most practical of all for the conveyance of the Fleece: by way of the calm Danube, along which one might sail for thirty days before reaching its confluence with the lusty Save, easily navigable at that point. ‘The Save will whirl us down to its outfall at the head of the Adriatic Sea in ten days,’ he declared, ‘and from thence to the Gulf of Corinth is no more than seven days’ sail in good weather.’
Autolycus gently disputed this: ‘No, Nauplius, that will not do either. The Trojans, in search of amber, once sailed up the Danube for as far as they found it navigable; but after twenty days only they reached the Iron Gates, which is a rocky gorge with rapids insuperable by any vessel afloat.’
‘I do not believe it,’ said Nauplius again, ‘the Trojans are born liars.’
Then Medea spoke in tones of authority. ‘Autolycus is right in declaring that the Argo cannot sail from sea to sea by the waters of the Danube and the Save. For the Save does not flow into the Adriatic Sea; it rises in the Alps and flows eastward into the Danube. Yet Nauplius is right to propose this as the safest route for conveyance of the Fleece. We will go by canoe and on mule-back, Jason and I, taking the Fleece with us. Let the Argo sail back by the Bosphorus.’
Idas laughed. ‘Ha, ha, Madam! You are a true woman. You intend to come off safely with your lover and your jewels and the Fleece, and leave us to the mercy of the Trojans and the Colchians.’
Here Echion pointed at Idas with his staff and solemnly enjoined him to silence. But Medea stood in no need of a herald’s help. She answered with eyes that flashed so green that Idas covered his head with his cloak and made the phallic sign with his fingers, to ward off her curse. She said: ‘Do not show yourself an ungrateful wretch, Idas. If Jason and I remain in the Argo with the Fleece my fellow-countrymen will kill you all without mercy; for they are bound to overtake you in the end. Truly, I advise you to be rid of us and to sail as soon as possible to Salmydessos, on the coast between the Danube and the Bosphorus, and there place yourselves under the protection of King Phineus of Thynia. The Colchians will fear to offend him, knowing that he can close the Bosphorus to their trade with Troy; therefore Calaïs and Zetes, his stepsons, are your passports to safety, whereas Jason, myself, and the Fleece are mere warrants for a cruel death. The journey that I propose to make will be a hard one for a woman of my delicate nurture, yet make it I must, for all our sakes. I can command the help of that Scythian king whose daughter King Phineus married; he is an ally of my father’s and trades with him, giving amber and skins in exchange for our Colchian hemp, linen and other goods. Nor do I intend to rob you of the glory of bringing the Fleece home to Iolcos. I count upon you to circumnavigate Greece and fetch us off from the place to which we will bring the Fleece – namely the island city of Aeaea, at the head of the Adriatic Sea, where my father’s sister, Queen Circe, rules. From Aeaea we will all sail safely to Iolcos together.’
Medea’s arguments were unanswerable, and since Autolycus and his brothers, as also Phrontis and his brothers, agreed that the mouth of the Danube might be reached within twelve days, if the wind were favourable, Jason gave his order: ‘Make it so!’
Melanion, son of Phrixus, had undertaken this very voyage two years previously, and knew what course to steer, checking it by the Sun at midday and by the Pole Star at night. The true bearing was due northwest, but he said that allowance must be made for the south-westerly set of the currents, which were at their strongest at this time of year. Jason entrusted the helm to him.
A bright light appeared in the sky to the north-westward, like fire, and all read it for a sign that the Triple Goddess approved their decisions.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The Argo is Trapped
When, ten days later, the Argonauts made their next landfall, it was a wooded islet not much more than a mile in circumference, with an unbroken line of steep, low cliffs. Melanion rejoiced and said: ‘There lies Leuce, the largest island in the Black Sea, except for reed-covered mud-banks lying in the mouths of rivers. We are dead on our course, and only twenty miles distant from the main northern mouth of the Danube.’
By their reckoning they knew that this was the morning of the summer solstice. Then Augeas of Elis said: ‘I am a priest of the Sun, and this is my holy day. I must go ashore to make sober sacrifices to the great Luminary.’
The sons of Phrixus, who also were devotees of the Sun, said: ‘We go with you.’
Jason opposed them at first. He was in a quarrelsome mood and wished to show Medea that he was captain of the Argonauts in more than name. Yet he longed for the smell of flowers and leaves and to set his feet on firm ground again. The south-eastern wind that had carried them out to sea was one of great violence and, blowing sidewise against the vast masses of water that were rolling towards the Bosphorus, had produced the hacking waves that are the most disagreeable of any known to sailors: for the sea boils like a pot. Fortunately this wind had blown itself out after two days, and given place to milder winds from the east and south; but for a whole day they had been forced to heave-to and protect themselves from shipwreck by dangling oil-bags over the bows, which exuded dolphin oil slowly and broke the force of the waves. Then when Atalanta said: ‘I warrant that there will be game in those woods. Which of us all does not love roast goat-flesh or roast venison?’ Jason yielded. He too was weary of dried meats and of raw mackerel caught by trolling. He said: ‘Very well, comrades, let us disembark, but not for long. Now is no time for delay. It may be that the Colchians are still in close pursuit of us.’
They ran the Argo ashore at a spot on the southern end of the island where the beach had an inviting aspect, and made her fast, and disembarked. Since there was little breeze Jason did not trouble to lower the sail, or it may be that he forgot to give the order; whichever the case, the sail remained hoisted all day. When they stepped ashore the ground seemed to quake under their feet; because they had been so long at sea that their bodies had become habituated to the heaving of the waves. This proved to be the pleasantest day of any that they spent during the whole voyage. First of all, they lighted a fire of driftwood for the pleasure of watching the flames leap and listening to the crackle of sticks; and while Argus kept a look-out to seaward and idly threw pebbles at a mark, all the others, except Medea, went out armed to make a drive for game. They moved across the island spread out at an interval of some fifteen paces, each from each, shouting and laughing like children, and drawing ever closer to one another as they approached the narrow tip of land at the further end. The game fled before them, and for so small an island it was wonderfully well stocked. There were three hares (besides two more that doubled back and escaped) and a herd of deer consisting of a tall stag, two brockets, three does, and three fawns.
The hares they knocked on the head with sticks; the brockets and one of the does, which was barren, they killed with javelins. But the other two does they spared, together with their fawns, because they were pure white in colour and seemed to be sacred animals. The stag they also spared, because his antlers had been gilded, and opened a lane in their ranks by which he might trot off, accompanied by the does and fawns. There were a great many snakes on the island; these also were driven to the one point, but there disappeared into a hole in the ground.
The hares and deer they sacrificed to Apollo of Disembarkations, and while the flesh was roasting at the fire, giving off delicious smells, Augeas and the sons of Phrixus roamed over the island in search of
a honeycomb to offer to the Sun at noon. Before long they found a bees’ nest in a hollow tree, and called Butes to take out the honey, which he gladly did with the help of smoke and an axe; and when a circular portion of honeycomb had been laid aside for the Sun a double handful remained for every Argonaut – the bees having remained undisturbed in the tree for a very long time.
Then Augeas raised an altar of stones on the beach and set the honeycomb upon it, arranging acorns and berries around it in the form of rays. He led the dance of the sacred wheel, circling the altar giddily in the same direction as the Sun circles the earth, and singing a hymn of praise in which the whole company joined; the sweat rose in beads on their flower-wreathed foreheads, so heartily did they dance in the heat, while from a shady thicket behind them rose the terrible noise of bull-roarers whirled in the Sun’s honour.
When they were seated again about the other altar, wearied with well-doing, and drinking wine tempered with fresh spring-water, Jason held a council. It was there agreed that the Argo should put in at the Fennel Stream, the northern mouth of the Danube, and sail to the commanding hill, beyond the head of the delta, where the Scythian king had his court; there Jason, Medea, and the sons of Phrixus would be put ashore with the Fleece. The Argo then returning to the sea by way of the Fair Mouth, the southern arm of the river, her crew would touch at Salmydessos to obtain the protection of King Phineus, and to revictual, and would continue thence by way of the Bosphorus and Hellespont into the Aegean Sea. They would circumnavigate Greece and sail up into the Adriatic Sea to the very northernmost part; where Jason’s company would be waiting at Aeaea, the island city of Circe, to be fetched off.
Ascalaphus of Orchomenos now recalled an oracle delivered to him at Orchomenos by the Chief Priestess of the great shrine of his ancestor Minyas. ‘You have a great voyage to make before you die, Child – before you descend to meet me in the Underworld. You will sail to the furthest East; yet before that same summer is out you will find yourself knocking at the door of the house where I was born, the house of my father Chryses.’ Since it was well known that Chryses had founded the city of Aeaea, where Circe was now residing, here was good news – a warrant that the Argo would at least reach Aeaea in safety. ‘Yet oracles can be deceitful,’ said Admetus of Pherae, ‘and it is best to put no reliance upon their manifest meaning.’
The Golden Fleece Page 39