Aras was a suspicious man. His captivity at Percote in the house of Cleite’s father, King Merops, had taught him to mistrust all Greeks and to disbelieve all heralds sent out from the College of Hermes upon Mount Cyllene. He desired the Argo to heave-to while he came alongside.
Argus hove-to and permitted Aras himself to come aboard, but no other Colchian.
Aras satisfied himself by a thorough search of the vessel that the Fleece was not aboard. He found the false bottom to the locker under the helmsman’s seat, but nothing was in it except some amber beads and filigree head ornaments, which he recognized as Medea’s.
‘Here is stolen property,’ he exclaimed.
‘No, no,’ cried Peleus, who was never at a loss. ‘They are mine. The Princess herself gave them to me as a present for my wife, in recognition of the kindness that I showed her. For when King Apsyrtus overtook us, Jason threatened to kill Medea with his own hands unless Apsyrtus allowed him to keep the Fleece. But I prevented him.’
Aras ordered two Colchian sailors, who were swimmers, to dive under the Argo and report whether the Fleece were perhaps nailed to her bottom, a device which traders often used to deceive the customs-officers of Troy. But the sailors found nothing and Aras was reluctantly compelled to abandon the search. He was convinced that he was being fooled, but could not see where the deception lay.
Echion said: ‘Excellent Aras, before we go, will you accept a gift from me? It is a pair of bronze greaves, which will fit your sturdy legs far better than they fit my elegant ones. I took them at the sack of the palace of King Amycus the Bebrycian. He was a man of about your build, but gifted with less intelligence – and this deficiency proved his undoing.’
Aras gladly accepted the greaves. As he climbed back into his ship he said to Argus in as cordial a tone as he could muster: ‘Have you, I wonder, heard what has occurred in Troy since your last visit to these waters?’
‘No,’ said Argus. ‘Pray tell me! I am greatly interested in the fortunes of this famous city, with which, as an Athenian, I have traded for many years.’
Aras began ‘There is a Greek named Hercules, of whom you must have heard –’
Argus asked eagerly: ‘Hercules of Tiryns, do you mean?’
Aras replied: ‘I think that he is a Tirynthian by birth. He is, at least the Hercules who came once into Amazonia and killed Queen Hippolyte – a man of colossal size and strength, with a brass-bound club and a lion-skin.’
Argus said: ‘We all know that Hercules. He was our shipmate on the outward voyage.’
‘Hercules was enraged,’ proceeded Aras, ‘by the news that his foster-son Hylas had been stolen from him by the Mysians and, for some reason or other, despatched to Troy. He therefore went to the Dolionians of Cyzicos, and to the King of Percote, and to one or two other small Greek settlements in the Sea of Marmora, and collected from them a fleet of six ships. With these he sailed into the Scamander by night, surprised and burned the Trojan fleet and, rushing into Troy itself – his great club shattering the main gate into pieces – he appeared suddenly in the palace hall of King Laömedon and demanded satisfaction for his injuries. Laömedon, though frightened out of his wits, was unaware that he had done Hercules any injury, and courteously asked him what his complaint might be. Hercules began a long story about some man-eating mares which he had entrusted to Laömedon’s keeping some years before, and which had not been returned. Laömedon answered that he remembered the mares well, now that Hercules mentioned them. They had been in very poor condition when they arrived at Troy: the truth was that Hercules had not only denied them the human flesh which had been their diet in the stables of their former Thracian owner, King Diomede of the Bistonians, but had over-driven them. Hercules told Laömedon to refrain from insults and confess what had become of the mares. Laömedon answered that they had expired almost at once. Hercules called him a liar but said that he would be content to accept in place of the stolen mares an equal number of the mares of Ganymede. These were Laconian mares sent to Troy by King Eurystheus in compensation for the death of Laömedon’s son Ganymede who had been killed in a skirmish with Achaean pirates. With the gift had come the comforting news that the soul of Ganymede had been carried off to Mount Olympus on the back of an eagle – or so the pirates had testified; doubtless Zeus would make him his immortal cup-bearer.’
‘I remember the case well,’ said Argus. ‘But did Laömedon hand the mares over to Hercules?’
‘Unfortunately he demurred,’ Aras answered. ‘This vexed irascible Hercules, who then asked: ‘Where is Hylas, you ruffian?’ Laömedon replied that he knew no one of that name. Hercules explained that Hylas was his Thessalian foster-son and the most beautiful and charming boy in the world. He accused Laömedon of concealing him somewhere in the city. At this point one of Laömedon’s sons, emulous of glory, tried to kill Hercules by toppling a great stone down upon him from a tower. He missed his aim, and Telamon of Aegina, a companion of Hercules, killed Laömedon with a spear. Then Hercules and his men sacked the palace and city and led off the leading citizens as prisoners.’
The Argonauts were marvellously relieved by this recital. Argus asked: ‘Who is now the ruler of Troy?’
Aras answered: ‘Hercules took a fancy to Priam, Laömedon’s infant son. He picked him up and sat him on his father’s throne, saying: ‘Be King, child. Let the Trojan nation grow up again slowly, as you grow up, and achieve mature wisdom when you do.’
Argus and Aras then parted with many expressions of goodwill. The Argo bent her course southward towards Tenedos, and Aras told his captains: ‘It is well. We sail home.’
However, at Sestos, on his return voyage, Aras dreamed that Aeëtes came to him, holding both hands to the wound in his belly to keep in his bowels, and cried angrily: ‘Aras! Why do you disobey my orders? Bring my murderers to justice. Fetch back the Fleece.’
In the dream, Aras answered: ‘Majesty, you are murdered and Apsyrtus your son reigns in your stead. I obey his orders, not yours.’
Aeëtes repeated in hollow tones: ‘Why do you disobey my orders? I am dead, but my orders live on. Bring my murderers to justice. Fetch back the Fleece.’
In the dream Aras asked: ‘Where shall I find either the Fleece or your murderers?’
Aeëtes answered: ‘Sail to Aeaea, to the house of my sister Circe. There you will find Atalanta my murderess, and the Fleece, and my treacherous daughter Medea, all together.’
So Aras, when he awoke, turned again and shaped his course for distant Aeaea, though his captains complained bitterly against him.
Chapter Forty-One
Reunion at Aeaea
Hercules, after sacking Troy, had returned amicably with Talthybius to Elis in the Peloponnese, where he easily performed, within the stipulated period of a day, the Labour of cleaning the filthy stables of King Augeas. He simply compelled the palace servants by blows and threats to divert the course of two neighbouring streams, which, rushing through the stables, cleared away all the filth, and some of the cattle with it. He then returned to Asia to search for Hylas again, and take vengeance on Calaïs and Zetes. Wandering through Lydia, he rested near Sardis at the navel-shrine of the Ionian hero Tmolus, where grows the terrible snake-plant, curving up higher than a man, with crimson lily-cup and a rat-like stench. Here the High Priestess, Omphale, made him her lover and subsequently, it is said, bore male triplets.
He grew envious of her pleasant and tranquil life. ‘How do you contrive always to be at peace with your neighbours and friends?’ he asked. ‘Tell me your secret!’
She answered: ‘Contentment here hangs upon three slender threads.’
‘What are they?’ he asked.
‘Guess my riddle!’ she answered. But he became so impatient that she told him. ‘The slender thread of milk as we press it from the udders of our ewes and milch-goats; the slender thread of gut that I loop from one end to the other of my Pelasgian lyre; the slender thread of wool as we spin.’
‘Milk is good food,’ He
rcules said, ‘if drunken in large enough quantities, and I confess that I am not insensitive to lyre-music. But tell me more about spinning: how can mere spinning breed contentment?’
Omphale asked: ‘Is it possible that no woman, of all the many hundreds with whom you have companied, has ever described to you the pleasures of the spindle? Why, there is no occupation in the world half so soothing as to sit and to spin. The twisting whorl, the turning spindle, the white wool teased by one’s fingers into a firm and even thread – these are inexpressibly pleasant toys. And as one spins, one sings softly to oneself, or chats with friends, or lets the mind wander at will…’
‘I should like to try it,’ said Hercules eagerly, ‘if you are sure that I would not break all your spindles and whorls. As a boy I had no luck with my music lessons.’
So it was that Omphale taught Hercules to spin. He learned quickly and spun a marvellously fine strong thread. He confessed that he had always wished to be a woman, and now at last knew how much pleasure he had missed. Omphale dressed him in female clothes, washed, combed, and braided his matted hair, and tied up the braids in blue ribbons. He was happier at the navel-shrine than he had ever been before, because the ghosts of the children, not recognizing him in his new finery, ceased for a while to plague him. Talthybius lost track of him too, and since the shrine was a sanctuary where even a herald had no right of entry, Hercules might have remained there in safety for months or years, had not the news come from Teos, a town on the coast, that the Argo had put in there to refit. In her passage down the coast from Tenedos she had fouled a sunken reef and only by constant bailing had the Argonauts managed to make the shore and beach her; the planking of her bows was torn away on the port side.
When Hercules heard this news he tossed his spindle across the courtyard, tore off his gown, snatched up his club, bow, and lion-skin, and went raging down to the sea.
The Argonauts had nothing to gain by sending Echion forward to propitiate Hercules. Calaïs and Zetes had been warned at Lesbian Methymna that he intended to kill them for having persuaded Jason to maroon him at the outfall of the Cios river. No sooner did his huge bulk heave in view, than they sprang from the ship and rushed at wonderful speed up the river-valley, darting from side to side to distract his aim. Yet Hercules needed only to discharge two arrows. Both men fell, each transfixed beneath his right shoulder-blade, and died in their tracks. Thus Hercules was fully avenged, and came smiling to the remainder of the Argonauts to greet them, his blue-ribboned plaits bobbing on his shoulders. He embraced Admetus and Acastus and said: ‘Dear comrades, try spinning, I implore you! There is no occupation in the world so soothing.’
They made evasive replies and he was about to compel them forcibly to this unmanly task when a fortunate interruption occurred. Talthybius the herald stepped out of an Argive ship which had just been made fast to the jetty and addressed Hercules at once with these words: ‘Most noble Hercules, well met! The compliments of King Eurystheus, and he has a new Labour for you to accomplish. He is not satisfied with your cleansing of the stables of King Augeas the Epian of Elis, because you did not perform it single-handed; all the digging and shovelling and damming was done by the Epians themselves with their own mattocks. You must undertake another Labour instead.’
Hercules cried: ‘Holy Serpents, Dung-man, I think that this is the most unreasonable complaint that I ever heard! First, I am forbidden to go in pursuit of Augeas to ask his permission to cleanse the stables, and when therefore, not wishing to offend my old comrade by any act of trespass, I compel his servants to perform the task, I am told that it is not properly performed. What do you say yourself, King Augeas? Did I do well? It is for you to say, not Eurystheus.’
Augeas nervously replied that he had done very well indeed.
‘There, Dung-man, you hear what he answers,’ said Hercules. ‘But after all, what is one Labour more or less? Tell me what your crazy master desires this time.’
Talthybius then ordered him to fetch a basketful of sacred oranges, or golden apples as they are sometimes called, from the islands of the Hesperides – a Labour of his that has already been mentioned. So Hercules warned Augeas that since Eurystheus had refused to recognize the previous Labour as properly performed, and since Augeas considered that it had been performed very well indeed, Augeas must award him a consolation prize: one-tenth of all the cattle of Elis would satisfy him.
To this outrageous demand Augeas had to agree, but without any intention of fulfilling it.
Autolycus, Deileion, and Phlogius, the former comrades of Hercules, did not venture to cast in his teeth a crime similar to that for which he had taken vengeance on Calaïs and Zetes: namely that he had wantonly deserted them, many years before, in the land of the Paphlagonians. Upon recognizing them, he now gave them so cheerful a greeting and slapped them so heartily on the back that they preferred to forget their injuries altogether; and indeed he had benefited them greatly, as it happened, because their enforced stay at Sinope had enriched them for life.
Before Hercules went off he enquired closely from Echion what had become of the Fleece; and since he was not to be put off by double-mouthed answers, Echion gave a plain account of all that had happened, but bound him to secrecy until the Fleece should once more be spread shining from the prow of the Argo. Hercules expressed no wonder at any point of the recital, but when he heard of Medea’s infatuation for Jason he sighed and remarked with unusual mildness: ‘The poor girl, I pity her! Echion, my friend, I have a message for you to deliver, and here is my silver cup in payment. Tell the Princess that I condole with her, as heartily as I condoled with Queen Hypsipyle of Lemnos. Tell her that Jason will treat her no less faithlessly than he treated Hypsipyle, though for his sake she has cut herself off from her own house and people and become accessory to parricide and fratricide. Assure her that when he deserts her, whether it be this year or next year or in twelve years’ time, she can steadfastly count upon Hercules of Tiryns either to avenge or comfort her.’
Echion accepted the cup and undertook to deliver the message, after which Hercules looked about him with a beaming face and said: ‘Dear comrades, tried comrades, if ever any of you should need my help against your enemies, it is at your free disposal.’
On his way back to Greece Hercules put in at Ephesos, where he found a Phoenician ship anchored, and sent the master and his son in bonds to Omphale as hostages. They were not to be released until the Phoenicians had ransomed them with a pair of African apes. Omphale had often told Hercules that he reminded her of an ape, and he was determined that she should have a pair to console her for his absence. For fear of Hercules, the Phoenicians sent the apes at once.
Here it may be told what happened to Hylas. He did not long survive his visit to the Woodpecker College at the Ascanian Lake. Being no virile Hercules, he could not easily satisfy the demands of Dryope and her fellow-nymphs, who were all in love with him and would not let him go, however hard he pleaded. He fell into a decline and died about the time that the Argo passed through the Bosphorus a second time. Dryope, not wishing Hercules to hear a whisper of what had happened, buried him in secret near the fountain of Pegae, and mourned him excessively. The Woodpecker nymphs continued for many centuries to deck his barrow with flowers on the anniversary of his death. On these occasions they chanted a psalm in praise of the most beautiful youths of all time: of Adonis, son of Cynaras, whom Aphrodite loved; of Endymion, son of Aetolus, whom Artemis loved; of Ganymede, son of Laömedon, whom Zeus loved; of Hyacinth, son of Oebalus, whom Apollo loved; of Chrysippus, son of Pelops, whom Theseus loved; of Narcissus, son of Cephissus, who fell in love with himself; and of Atlantius, son of Aphrodite by Hermes, who was the first hermaphrodite and with whom the whole world was in love. But the refrain declared that none of these was ever so beautiful, so charming, so gracious, or so affectionate as Hylas, son of Theiodamas, beloved by Hercules and the nymphs of Ascania.
The fountain of Pegae is a lovely one, and well worth a visit. The pebbles shin
e like silver through the clear water, and all about grow blue swallow-wort, fresh green maiden-hair, feathery parsley, and deer-grass that tangles the feet, inviting the visitant to linger.
The Argo was delayed for some time, not only by the difficulty that Argus found in repairing her at Teos, where he was not satisfied with the quality of the timber procurable, but by the funeral Games which he felt bound to celebrate in honour of his dead comrades, the sons of the North Wind. Here they took aboard as passengers Telamon, the comrade of Hercules, and five of his Aeginetan kinsmen; Telamon had been a brother of Peleus before Peleus was reborn into the Myrmidon clan, and was concerned with him in the death of their foster-brother Phocus; but now they met as strangers, with haughty stares.
The next point of call was at Miletos, famous for its wool, where Erginus was warmly welcomed by his family and found it difficult to tear himself away from them to continue the voyage. From Miletos they sailed to Flowery Samos, beloved home of Little Ancaeus, and thence to Leros, of which they say: ‘All the Lerians are bad, not some but every one – all except Procles, and Procles too is a Lerian.’ But who Procles was, nobody can remember. And thence they sailed to the Cyclades Islands, visiting first Naxos, the happiest of all islands in the Aegean Sea; next Delos, the holiest, where they honoured Apollo and Artemis with gifts and dancing; lastly Seriphos of the whetstones, where long ago Perseus and his mother Danaë were cast ashore in the chest that King Acrisius had consigned to the tossing waves – here they put off Telamon and his kinsmen. But the mainland of Greece they avoided, going from island to island – to Cythera, Sphacteria (close to Sandy Pylos, home of Periclymenus), Zacynthos, Ithaca, Corfu – not staying long at any of them.
The Golden Fleece Page 44