The Golden Fleece

by Robert Graves

  When the victims had been jointed, and the flesh was hissing on spits with a savoury smell – they had no reason to placate the God with a holocaust but could confidently seat themselves as fellow-guests at his feast – the farmer, who had previously kept silence lest the sacrifice should be spoilt by ill-omened tears or cries, called Jason apart and gave him heavy news. He told him that his father Aeson and his mother Alcimede were both dead, forced by King Pelias to take their own lives by the drinking of bull’s blood. Nor was this all: Hypsipyle, Queen of Lemnos, had lately come to Iolcos in search of Aeson, to whom (as she said) Jason had directed her to go if she ever found herself in distress. She was then exiled from Lemnos, as having preserved the life of old Thoäs, her uncle, when the universal vote had been to kill all the Lemnian men without remorse; for the Lemnian women had not been apprised of her action until the arrival of the Argonauts. When, in all innocence, she told Pelias that she was with child by Jason, he reflected that any child that she bore would be the rightful ruler of Phthiotis, and decided to destroy her as soon as possible; but, warned of his designs in good time, she fled to the shrine of Iolcan Artemis, where old Iphias, the Priestess, gave her sanctuary. However, Pelias protested to Iphias that, since Jason and Aeson were both dead, he was now Hypsipyle’s nearest male kinsman, and her guardian; and he forced Iphias to give her up to him. Then he made away with her; but how or where the deed was done, the farmer said that he could not tell Jason with certainty.

  It can well be imagined with what horror Jason learned the news of his parents murder and that of his unborn child. He called his comrades to him and told them: ‘Let me propound a dark question: A certain evil usurper drives his rival overseas, the son of his bedridden brother, the legitimate ruler of the country; and is thought to have murdered this rival’s unborn son; and is known to have forced the brother himself, and his wife with him, to drink bull’s blood and die, having disturbed them at a private sacrifice and threatened to kill them himself with an axe and leave their bodies unburied should they refuse. What fate, comrades, does this fratricidal usurper deserve?’

  Though none of the Argonauts, even the most simple-minded of them, could fail to understand which king Jason meant, all but three of them replied: ‘Death by the sword!’ Those who kept silence were Acastus, the son of Pelias; Admetus, his son-in-law; and Peleus the Myrmidon, his vassal. Jason asked each of them in turn: ‘Do you not agree that death by the sword is the penalty for such unnatural crimes?’

  Acastus answered: ‘Let Admetus answer for me, lest by speaking my mind I be adjudged guilty of parricide and hounded by the Furies.’

  Admetus answered as follows: ‘I am married to the daughter of a king who may be guilty of the very acts of which you speak; for he was suckled by a wolf-hound bitch and has a savage nature in consequence. But before I give the same verdict as my comrades, let me first ask whether driving a nephew overseas is a crime justly punished by death, especially if the nephew goes off joyfully as captain over the boldest champions to be found in Greece and wins imperishable glory in a short time. Next, let me ask whether a child can be said to be murdered before it has been born, and whether a man can justly be punished by death for a crime that has not yet been proved against him. Lastly, let me ask whether a man can justly be punished as a murderer of his bedridden brother and his brother’s wife, if these destroyed themselves voluntarily. Had they disregarded his threats, they might be alive still; the usurper would have thought twice before shedding a brother’s blood, knowing well that his pious subjects would refuse allegiance to a fratricide. And how much credence should we give to a story in which a bedridden man is said to have been privately sacrificing a bull?’

  These words of Admetus pleased some of his comrades, but by no means all.

  Augeas of Elis said: ‘Jason, we swore to obey you during the voyage in quest of the Fleece, and we have been faithful to our oath. Now that the voyage is ended and we are released from our discipline, I may speak freely. I declare that it would be madness for thirty-one men to assault the city of Iolcos in the hope of taking vengeance upon Pelias. You may be bound that the city gates are well guarded; and when last we were here five hundred men of the Royal Guard stood constantly under arms. Doubtless their numbers have since been increased. I for one am loth to hazard my life in so rash an enterprise as this promises to be. Consider, comrades! The flames of our sacrificial fire have surely been seen by the watchmen on the walls; and Pelias, if he has the least grain of sense, will know that something is astir down here at Pagasae, and will have summoned his trumpeter to sound the call to arms.’

  Idas interrupted Augeas before he had well finished, shouting: ‘As I told you once before, Augeas was born on a night of no moon; and the saying ‘no moon, no man’ is confirmed in him. But I, for one, am ready to go up with you at once, Jason, before Pelias becomes aware of our presence. Let us take him by surprise and sack his well-furnished palace. If he believes us to have been cast away in shipwreck, as the farmer here assures us, then the flames of our fire will not alarm him. He will conclude, from the colour of the flames, that a fire has broken out in one of his storehouses.’

  Castor and Pollux agreed with Idas, for once; but Autolycus, speaking for the Thessalians in a body, said: ‘No, no! Although we stand by you, Jason, through thick and thin, not considering this expedition ended until the Fleece shall have been restored safely to the back of the sacred Ram image of Mount Laphystios, we beg you to be prudent. Let us not go up against Iolcos in a vengeful fury, as the seven champions once went against Thebes, and be destroyed for our pains. Let us rather set on foot a general war against your savage uncle, each first returning to his own tribe or city and there raising a large company of volunteers, so that many columns at once may converge upon Iolcos from all sides.’

  Then Peleus gave his answer: ‘I am Prince of the Myrmidons, as you know, and a vassal of King Pelias. I will never consent to declare war against him. If you intend to assault Iolcos you must first kill me, who am under a debt of gratitude to Pelias. He is of a savage and treacherous nature, I grant, but he raised me up years ago when I was a miserable suppliant, and I refuse to earn the name of traitor by opposing him. Besides, if several large columns converge on Phthiotis, what will be the fate of my own lands and my wretched subjects, and the patrimony of my dear comrade Acastus? Have you ever seen a herd of wild-boar rooting up lily-bulbs in a peaceful dell? Do you think that the common soldiery will behave with less greed and fury in my dear land, however wisely controlled by their officers?’

  Periclymenus the wizard addressed Peleus in winning tones: ‘Dear Peleus, an accident disposed of your foster-brother whom you hated, and of your father-in-law whom you succeeded at Phthia as Prince of the Myrmidons. It is a pity, Ant man, that the death of Pelias, whom you have never professed to love, cannot be brought about by another accident of the same sort.’

  Peleus grinned as he answered: ‘With the drowning of Dictys, the Colchian Vice-Admiral, the triad of accidents was duly completed.’

  Nobody else said anything for a while. At last Ascalaphus asked: ‘Medea, tell us why you have brought the hollow image of Thracian Artemis here, all the way from Anaphe?’

  She answered at once: ‘The woodpecker sent by the Mother ordered me to do so. And now that you have asked me this question, let everyone keep holy silence for as long as I keep my head covered in my cloak. When I thrust it out again, listen attentively to my words, which, however dark an enigma at first hearing, will give a single answer to every question that has been propounded tonight. I am about to consult the Mother.’

  She threw the purple cloak over her head, and not a sound was heard from beneath it, although the folds shook and flapped and bellied out, every now and again, as if filled with a snake-tailed wind; soon the cloak floated all about her, the folds standing out stiff like the sides of a tent, then fell again slowly, clasping her close. This sight they witnessed by the bright light of the fire. At length Medea thrust out her head a
nd spoke: ‘These are the words of the Mother: “Tomorrow, about noon, Pelias shall die a bloody death of his own choosing. Argonauts, you shall be guiltless of his blood; I alone shall exact the vengeance due to me. Abstain from war against Phthiotis, children, and from all acts of violence. Atalanta of Calydon alone of you all shall go up to Iolcos; and she shall go unarmed, under the authority of my servant Medea. Do you row the Argo back to Methone, there drawing her up on the beach; disguise her with the lopped branches of oaks; and lie hid yourselves among the thickets, allowing no passer-by to report your presence to Iolcos. A thin red pillar will arise from the smoke-hole of the palace hall when my vengeance is accomplished. Then come out in haste, row to Iolcos, whipping the water with your oars, and take possession of the city unopposed.”’

  The Argonauts gazed at one another in bewilderment, yet they had abundant proof of the powers that Medea commanded and none of them had the least doubt but that the Goddess spoke the truth from her mouth. They therefore said not another word, and when Medea began to borrow from them ostrich-skins, bear-pelts, head-dresses of Colchian ibis feathers, and other trophies of the voyage, none of them refused her whatever she might need for the execution of her design. Then they climbed aboard the Argo again and rowed away with muffled oars, first smothering the altar-fire with sand; but Medea stayed behind on the beach with Atalanta and the twelve Phaeacian girls, and with the hollow image of Artemis.

  When the Argo was out of sight, Medea said to Atalanta: ‘Dear girl, I am aware that you hate Jason, though causelessly, and despise me for loving him; but let that not prevent you now from obeying the orders of the Mother. I bear you no ill will, for at least we are not rivals for the love of the same man, and I do not blame you in the least degree for the murder of my father Aeëtes, which was the work of your mistress Artemis.’

  Atalanta smiled and answered: ‘Medea, I am a woman as you are, and though I may causelessly hate Jason I cannot find it in my heart to hate or mistrust his wife. I am well aware that the Love Spite delights in making fools of the most kindly, most intelligent, and most loyal of our sex.’

  They kissed each other on both cheeks, and Medea sent Atalanta ahead to give old Iphias a secret warning; the Goddess Artemis was coming to Iolcos in person to punish Pelias for having violated her sanctuary when he removed Queen Hypsipyle of Lemnos from it by force – Iphias must purify herself and be ready with all her Fish maidens to welcome the Goddess into the city at daybreak. Atalanta was to say: ‘Do not be afraid, Iphias, whatever marvels you may witness. For the Goddess, who has appeared to me in a dream, is of most frightful appearance. She is coming all the way from the foggy land of the warlike, red-haired Hyperboreans, from the great triangular island lying northward from Gaul and abounding in red cattle. And do not wonder if she speaks with a double mouth, pretending love and affection for bestial Pelias; because the Goddess loves to raise up before she casts down, so that the fall may be the greater.’

  Atalanta ran off and entered the city unchallenged by the guards; she knew the secret way under the walls that led to the shrine of Artemis. She warned Iphias, in the exact words given her by Medea, what to expect at dawn.

  Meanwhile Medea procured an unblemished male lamb from the farmer of Pagasae and put it to sleep with the same soporific drug that she had used against the Serpent of Prometheus; she then concealed it inside the hollow statue and set the statue on a light cradle which she found in the marine storehouse. She tricked out her Phaeacian maids in the strange disguises that she had borrowed from the Argonauts, first whitening their faces with gypsum and daubing their hands and feet with vermilion dye. Then she led them in procession along the coast road from Pagasae to Iolcos, and they carried the Goddess by turns behind them until they came within sight of the city walls.

  They met nobody on the road, for the night was of ill omen in Phthiotis – the one night of the year when ghosts were permitted to walk abroad freely and every prudent man kept within doors. But Medea had no fear of ghosts and at grey dawn she gave the girls ivy to chew, which intoxicated them, and herself uttered a frantic screech and led them raving towards the gate. The face of the statute of Artemis had been painted with a smile of irresistible glee and a frown of implacable fury, and Medea was clothed in all the shining majesty of a Colchian priestess of Brimo and wore a golden kite-faced mask. But under the mask her face was painted with wrinkles to resemble that of a centenarian crone, and she had assumed a perruque with hair of that yellowish-white colour which comes with extreme old age; her hands were also painted with wrinkles and she hobbled on one leg. The frightened sentinels fled with howls from their posts, but Iphias and her Fish maidens came eagerly hurrying out from the shrine to unbolt the gate for their Goddess.

  Medea called in a cracked voice to the people of Iolcos to come boldly from their houses and do reverence to Artemis. At her summons a great multitude poured out from every door and alley along the whole length of the street leading from the gate to the palace, and abased themselves before the image. At her command they all kept holy silence, and she informed Iphias in their hearing that Artemis had come down from the foggy land of the Hyperboreans, in a car drawn by a team of flying serpents (now tethered outside the gate), in order to bring good fortune to the Iolcans and their Sovereign. Then she encouraged them all to cheer and dance, and the Phaeacian girls inspired the whole city, thus startled from sleep, into a religious frenzy; raging here and there among the crowd as wildly as the women of the Argive Cow sorority when they perform the gadfly dance in Hera’s honour. The Iolcans beat gongs and blew trumpets and, in a word, acted like madmen or madwomen.

  Medea hobbled on towards the palace, and when the servants at the gate-house shrieked and fled she burst in without ceremony. There in the hall she found Pelias in his nightcap and with his robes of state loosely girded about him, enquiring in confusion what was afoot. His four daughters were with him, as amazed as he. The Phaeacian girls raced into the hall behind Medea and began dancing crazily on the tables and benches until she sternly called them to order; then the statue of Artemis, upright on her cradle, was borne solemnly in by Iphias and the Fish maidens and set up on a table, fronting Pelias. A great concourse of the commonalty followed behind, but Medea drove them all out and bolted the door after them.

  She addressed Pelias, croaking in barbarous Greek, as follows:

  ‘Pelias, Pelias, Pelias, I am the Chief Priestess of Artemis, the Bearish One, Lady of the Lake, Horse-finder, Huntress, Goddess of Good Fame, newly arrived at Iolcos from the giant-breeding land of the Hyperboreans. I and my maidens in a single night, riding in a row astride a pair of winged serpents, have travelled across Gaul of the Druids and over the High Alps and through rugged Istria and Epiros and fertile Thessaly, while the Goddess sat in her car behind us, arms akimbo, urging us on. Ha, what is the Goddess’s business here, do you ask? Listen and I will reveal it to you. Listen, I say, and do not fidget, you four slender princesses who crowd about the throne of Pelias. Do not fidget, I say!’

  With that she terrified the daughters of Pelias by hurling a silver apple over their heads, which exploded with a roar like thunder against the wall behind them and filled the hall with acrid smoke. It seemed to them that white snakes with flashing eyes wriggled in the air among the wreaths of smoke. They were terrified nearly to distraction, but none of them dared move a finger, for fear of worse things.

  Medea proceeded: ‘The Goddess, some of whose titles I have declared to you, and whom in our land we name Samothea, called me to her not long ago and said: “Gaze into your crystal ball, eldest and ugliest of my children, and tell me what you see there.” Gazing, I answered: “Goddess, I see everything that exists. In this glass I can view the whole extent of the habitable world, your ancient dominions, set like a bright island in the circling stream of Ocean.” She said again: “Look carefully again, Kite-face, with a piercing glance, and inform me for my satisfaction exactly where in all my ancient dominions is to be found the most pious of all living kings.�
�� I searched and searched for fifty days and nights, gazing ceaselessly into the glass, until at last my eye, that had travelled up the eastern coast of Greece from Laconia and Argolis onwards through Attica, Boeotia, and Locris, passed into the kingdom of Phthiotis and lighted contentedly upon the well-roofed palace of Iolcos, and on the comely person of white-bearded Pelias, son of Poseidon. I said to the Goddess Samothea: “Pelias is the most pious of all living kings. He has rededicated to you, in your name of Artemis, the shrine that hitherto belonged to the outrageous Nymph Goddess, risking the displeasure of the Nymph Goddess by this act, yet asking no reward of you. He has also burned countless sacrifices to your majesty and honours your name above that of all Goddesses in existence, not even excepting Hera, the wife of Zeus.” Then Samothea answered me: “It is well, Crook-nose! Let us go up now in our snake-drawn chariot to fly half across the world to Greece, and reward Pelias suitably. Let us divest him of hateful old age and restore his body to perpetual youth, and his impotent member to virility, so that he may reign here at Iolcos for ever, outliving all his rival monarchs and all his subjects. Let him take a young wife to his bosom and beget on her worthier sons than dead Acastus, whom lately I cast away upon the rocky coast of Libya in punishment for an unfilial act of desertion.”’

  Then while Pelias marvelled, yet doubted – for he was a shrewd old man and not easily deceived – Medea reminded him of many strange particulars of his life that she had gleaned from Acastus; and from Jason; and from Periclymenus, son of Neleus, the brother to Pelias; and from Echion, the son of Hermes, whose business it was, as a herald, to learn and remember all that was spoken about the private lives of the great men of Greece. Then she said: ‘You doubt, Pelias, you doubt, I read your innermost thoughts. Do not doubt; to doubt is dangerous. However, the Goddess has graciously consented that I should give you evident proof of her powers by a transformation performed upon my own person. Child’ (here she addressed Alcestis, the eldest daughter of Pelias and wife to Admetus), ‘fetch me pure water in a sacrificial goblet of painted earthenware ; for my lips may not touch metal.’