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The Golden Fleece and the Heroes Who Lived Before Achilles

by Padraic Colum

November, 2000  [Etext #2395]


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Before Achilles, by Padraic Colum
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THE GOLDEN FLEECE AND THE HEROES WHO LIVED BEFORE ACHILLES
BY
PADRAIC COLUM

1921

Part I. The Voyage to Colchis



I. The Youth Jason

A man in the garb of a slave went up the side of that mountain
that is all covered with forest, the Mountain Pelion. He carried
in his arms a little child.

When it was full noon the slave came into a clearing of the
forest so silent that it seemed empty of all life. He laid the
child down on the soft moss, and then, trembling with the fear of
what might come before him, he raised a horn to his lips and blew
three blasts upon it.

Then he waited. The blue sky was above him, the great trees stood
away from him, and the little child lay at his feet. He waited,
and then he heard the thud-thud of great hooves. And then from
between the trees he saw coming toward him the strangest of all
beings, one who was half man and half horse; this was Chiron the
centaur.

Chiron came toward the trembling slave. Greater than any horse
was Chiron, taller than any man. The hair of his head flowed back
into his horse's mane, his great beard flowed over his horse's
chest; in his man's hand he held a great spear.

Not swiftly he came, but the slave could see that in those great
limbs of his there was speed like to the wind's. The slave fell
upon his knees. And with eyes that were full of majesty and
wisdom and limbs that were full of strength and speed, the
king-centaur stood above him. "O my lord," the slave said, "I
have come before thee sent by Aeson, my master, who told me where
to come and what blasts to blow upon the horn. And Aeson, once
King of Iolcus, bade me say to thee that if thou dost remember
his ancient friendship with thee thou wilt, perchance, take this
child and guard and foster him, and, as he grows, instruct him
with thy wisdom."

"For Aeson's sake I will rear and foster this child," said Chiron
the king-centaur in a deep voice.

The child lying on the moss had been looking up at the
four-footed and two-handed centaur. Now the slave lifted him up
and placed him in the centaur's arms. He said:

"Aeson bade me tell thee that the child's name is Jason. He bade
me give thee this ring with the great ruby in it that thou mayst
give it to the child when he is grown. By this ring with its ruby
and the images engraved on it Aeson may know his son when they
meet after many years and many changes. And another thing Aeson
bade me say to thee, O my lord Chiron: not presumptuous is he,
but he knows that this child has the regard of the immortal
Goddess Hera, the wife of Zeus."

Chiron held Aeson's son in his arms, and the little child put
hands into his great beard. Then the centaur said, "Let Aeson
know that his son will be reared and fostered by me, and that,
when they meet again, there will be ways by which they will be
known to each other."

Saying this Chiron the centaur, holding the child in his arms,
went swiftly toward the forest arches; then the slave took up the
horn and went down the side of the Mountain Pelion. He came to
where a horse was hidden, and he mounted and rode, first to a
city, and then to a village that was beyond the city.

All this was before the famous walls of Troy were built; before
King Priam had come to the throne of his father and while he was
still known, not as Priam, but as Podarces. And the beginning of
all these happenings was in Iolcus, a city in Thessaly.

Cretheus founded the city and had ruled over it in days before
King Priam was born. He left two sons, Aeson and Pelias. Aeson
succeeded his father. And because he was a mild and gentle man,
the men of war did not love Aeson; they wanted a hard king who
would lead them to conquests.

Pelias, the brother of Aeson, was ever with the men of war; he
knew what mind they had toward Aeson and he plotted with them to
overthrow his brother. This they did, and they brought Pelias to
reign as king in Iolcus.

The people loved Aeson; and they feared Pelias. And because the
people loved him and would be maddened by his slaying, Pelias and
the men of war left him living. With his wife, Alcimide, and his
infant son, Aeson went from the city, and in a village that was
at a distance from Iolcus he found a hidden house and went to
dwell in it.

Aeson would have lived content there were it not that he was
fearful for Jason, his infant son. Jason, he knew, would grow
into a strong and a bold youth, and Pelias, the king, would be
made uneasy on his account. Pelias would slay the son, and
perhaps would slay the father for the son's sake when his memory
would come to be less loved by the people. Aeson thought of such
things in his hidden house, and he pondered on ways to have his
son reared away from Iolcus and the dread and the power of King
Pelias.

He had for a friend one who was the wisest of all creatures
Chiron the centaur; Chiron who was half man and half horse;
Chiron who had lived and was yet to live measureless years.
Chiron had fostered Heracles, and it might be that he would not
refuse to foster Jason, Aeson's child.

Away in the fastnesses of Mount Pelion Chiron dwelt; once Aeson
had been with him and had seen the centaur hunt with his great
bow and his great spears. And Aeson knew a way that one might
come to him; Chiron himself had told him of the way.

Now there was a slave in his house who had been a huntsman and
who knew all the ways of the Mountain Pelion. Aeson talked with
this slave one day, and after he had talked with him he sat for a
long time over the cradle of his sleeping infant. And then he
spoke to Alcimide, his wife, telling her of a parting that made
her weep. That evening the slave came in and Aeson took the child
from the arms of the mournful-eyed mother and put him in the
slave's arms. Also he gave him a horn and a ring with a great
ruby in it and mystic images engraved on its gold. Then when the
ways were dark the slave mounted a horse, and, with the child in
his arms, rode through the city that King Pelias ruled over. In
the morning he came to that mountain that is all covered with
forest, the Mountain Pelion. And that evening he came back to the
village and to Aeson's hidden house, and he told his master how
he had prospered.

Aeson was content thereafter although he was lonely and although
his wife was lonely in their childlessness. But the time came
when they rejoiced that their child had been sent into an
unreachable place. For messengers from King Pelias came inquiring
about the boy. They told the king's messengers that the child had
strayed off from his nurse, and that whether he had been slain by
a wild beast or had been drowned in the swift River Anaurus they
did not know.

The years went by and Pelias felt secure upon the throne he had
taken from his brother. Once he sent to the oracle of the gods to
ask of it whether he should be fearful of anything. What the
oracle answered was this: that King Pelias had but one thing to
dread--the coming of a halfshod man.

The centaur nourished the child Jason on roots and fruits and
honey; for shelter they had a great cave that Chiron had lived in
for numberless years. When he had grown big enough to leave the
cave Chiron would let Jason mount on his back; with the child
holding on to his great mane he would trot gently through the
ways of the forest.

Jason began to know the creatures of the forest and their haunts.
Sometimes Chiron would bring his great bow with him; then Jason,
on his back, would hold the quiver and would hand him the arrows.
The centaur would let the boy see him kill with a single arrow
the bear, the boar, or the deer. And soon Jason, running beside
him, hunted too.

No heroes were ever better trained than those whose childhood and
youth had been spent with Chiron the king-centaur. He made them
more swift of foot than any other of the children of men. He made
them stronger and more ready with the spear and bow. Jason was
trained by Chiron as Heracles just before him had been trained,
and as Achilles was to be trained afterward.

Moreover, Chiron taught him the knowledge of the stars and the
wisdom that had to do with the ways of the gods.

Once, when they were hunting together, Jason saw a form at the
end of an alley of trees--the form of a woman it was--of a woman
who had on her head a shining crown. Never had Jason dreamt of
seeing a form so wondrous. Not very near did he come, but he
thought he knew that the woman smiled upon him. She was seen no
more, and Jason knew that he had looked upon one of the immortal
goddesses.

All day Jason was filled with thought of her whom he had seen. At
night, when the stars were out, and when they were seated outside
the cave, Chiron and Jason talked together, and Chiron told the
youth that she whom he had seen was none other than Hera, the
wife of Zeus, who had for his father Aeson and for himself an
especial friendliness.

So Jason grew up upon the mountain and in the forest fastnesses.
When he had reached his full height and had shown himself swift
in the hunt and strong with the spear and bow, Chiron told him
that the time had come when he should go back to the world of men
and make his name famous by the doing of great deeds.

And when Chiron told him about his father Aeson--about how he had
been thrust out of the kingship by Pelias, his uncle a great
longing came upon Jason to see his father and a fierce anger grew
up in his heart against Pelias.

Then the time came when he bade good-by to Chiron his great
instructor; the time came when he went from the centaur's cave
for the last time, and went through the wooded ways and down the
side of the Mountain Pelion. He came to the river, to the swift
Anaurus, and he found it high in flood. The stones by which one
might cross were almost all washed over; far apart did they seem
in the flood.

Now as he stood there pondering on what he might do there came up
to him an old woman who had on her back a load of brushwood.
"Wouldst thou cross?" asked the old woman. "Wouldst thou cross
and get thee to the city of Iolcus, Jason, where so many things
await thee?"

Greatly was the youth astonished to hear his name spoken by this
old woman, and to hear her give the name of the city he was bound
for. "Wouldst thou cross the Anaurus?" she asked again. "Then
mount upon my back, holding on to the wood I carry, and I will
bear thee over the river."

Jason smiled. How foolish this old woman was to think that she
could bear him across the flooded river! She came near him and
she took him in her arms and lifted him up on her shoulders.
Then, before he knew what she was about to do, she had stepped
into the water.

>From stone to stepping-stone she went, Jason holding on to the
wood that she had drawn to her shoulders. She left him down upon
the bank. As she was lifting him down one of his feet touched the
water; the swift current swept away a sandal.

He stood on the bank knowing that she who had carried him across
the flooded river had strength from the gods. He looked upon her,
and behold! she was transformed. Instead of an old woman there
stood before him one who had on a golden robe and a shining
crown. Around her was a wondrous light--the light of the sun when
it is most golden. Then Jason knew that she who had carried him
across the broad Anaurus was the goddess whom he had seen in the
ways of the forest--Hera, great Zeus's wife.

"Go into Iolcus, Jason," said great Hera to him, "go into Iolcus,
and in whatever chance doth befall thee act as one who has the
eyes of the immortals upon him."

She spoke and she was seen no more. Then Jason went on his way to
the city that Cretheus, his grandfather, had founded and that his
father Aeson had once ruled over. He came into that city, a tall,
great-limbed, unknown youth, dressed in a strange fashion, and
having but one sandal on.



II. KING PELIAS

That day King Pelias, walking through the streets of his city,
saw coming toward him a youth who was half shod. He remembered
the words of the oracle that bade him beware of a half-shod man,
and straightway he gave orders to his guards to lay hands upon
the youth.

But the guards wavered when they went toward him, for there was
something about the youth that put them in awe of him. He came
with the guards, however, and he stood before the king's judgment
seat.

Fearfully did Pelias look upon him. But not fearfully did the
youth look upon the king. With head lifted high he cried out,
"Thou art Pelias, but I do not salute thee as king. Know that I
am Jason, the son of Aeson from whom thou hast taken the throne
and scepter that were rightfully his."

King Pelias looked to his guards. He would have given them a sign
to destroy the youth's life with their spears, but behind his
guards he saw a threatening multitude--the dwellers of the city
of Iolcus; they gathered around, and Pelias knew that he had
become more and more hated by them. And from the multitude a cry
went up, "Aeson, Aeson! May Aeson come back to us! Jason, son of
Aeson! May nothing evil befall thee, brave youth!"

Then Pelias knew that the youth might not be slain. He bent his
head while he plotted against him in his heart. Then he raised
his eyes, and looking upon Jason he said, "O goodly youth, it
well may be that thou art the son of Aeson, my brother. I am well
pleased to see thee here. I have had hopes that I might be
friends with Aeson, and thy coming here may be the means to the
renewal of our friendship. We two brothers may come together
again. I will send for thy father now, and he will be brought to
meet thee in my royal palace. Go with my guards and with this
rejoicing people, and in a little while thou and I and thy father
Aeson will sit at a feast of friends."

So Pelias said, and Jason went with the guards and the crowd of
people, and he came to the palace of the king and he was brought
within. The maids led him to the bath and gave him new robes to
wear. Dressed in these Jason looked a prince indeed.

But all that while King Pelias remained on his judgment seat with
his crowned head bent down. When he raised his head his dark
brows were gathered together and his thin lips were very close.
He looked to the swords and spears of his guards, and he made a
sign to the men to stand close to him. Then he left the judgment
seat and he went to the palace.



III. THE GOLDEN FLEECE

They brought Jason into a hall where Aeson, his father, waited.
Very strange did this old and grave-looking man appear to him.
But when Aeson spoke, Jason remembered even without the sight of
the ruby ring the tone of his father's voice and he clasped him
to him. And his father knew him even without the sight of the
ruby ring which Jason had upon his finger.

Then the young man began to tell of the centaur and of his life
upon the Mountain Pelion. As they were speaking together Pelias
came to where they stood, Pelias in the purple robe of a king and
with the crown upon his head. Aeson tightly clasped Jason as if
he had become fearful for his son. Pelias smilingly took the hand
of the young man and the hand of his brother, and he bade them
both welcome to his palace.

Then, walking between them, the king brought the two into the
feasting hall. The youth who had known only the forest and the
mountainside had to wonder at the beauty and the magnificence of
all he saw around him. On the walls were bright pictures; the
tables were of polished wood, and they had vessels of gold and
dishes of silver set upon them; along the walls were vases of
lovely shapes and colors, and everywhere there were baskets
heaped with roses white and red.

The king's guests were already in the hall, young men and elders,
and maidens went amongst them carrying roses which they strung
into wreaths for the guests to put upon their heads. A
soft-handed maiden gave Jason a wreath of roses and he put it on
his head as he sat down at the king's table. When he looked at
all the rich and lovely things in that hall, and when he saw the
guests looking at him with friendly eyes, Jason felt that he was
indeed far away from the dim spaces of the mountain forest and
from the darkness of the centaur's cave.

Rich food and wine such as he had never dreamt of tasting were
brought to the tables. He ate and drank, and his eyes followed
the fair maidens who went through the hall. He thought how
glorious it was to be a king. He heard Pelias speak to Aeson, his
father, telling him that he was old and that he was weary of
ruling; that he longed to make friends, and that he would let no
enmity now be between him and his brother. And he heard the king
say that he, Jason, was young and courageous, and that he would
call upon him to help to rule the land, and that, in a while,
Jason would bear full sway over the kingdom that Cretheus had
founded.

So Pelias spoke to Aeson as they both sat together at the king's
high table. But Jason, looking on them both, saw that the eyes
that his father turned on him were full of warnings and mistrust.

After they had eaten King Pelias made a sign, and a cupbearer
bringing a richly wrought cup came and stood before the king. The
king stood up, holding the cup in his hands, and all in the hall
waited silently. Then Pelias put the cup into Jason's hands and
he cried out in a voice that was heard all through the hall,
"Drink from this cup, O nephew Jason! Drink from this cup, O man
who will soon come to rule over the kingdom that Cretheus
founded!"

All in the hall stood up and shouted with delight at that speech.
But the king was not delighted with their delight, Jason saw. He
took the cup and he drank the rich wine; pride grew in him; he
looked down the hall and he saw faces all friendly to him; he
felt as a king might feel, secure and triumphant. And then he
heard King Pelias speaking once more.

"This is my nephew Jason, reared and fostered in the centaur's
cave. He will tell you of his life in the forest and the
mountains, his life that was like to the life of the half gods."

Then Jason spoke to them, telling them of his life on the
Mountain Pelion. When he had spoken, Pelias said:

"I was bidden by the oracle to beware of the man whom I should
see coming toward me half shod. But, as you all see, I have
brought the half-shod man to my palace and my feasting hall, so
little do I dread the anger of the gods.

"And I dread it little because I am blameless. This youth, the
son of my brother, is strong and courageous, and I rejoice in his
strength and courage, for I would have him take my place and
reign over you. Ali, that I were as young as he is now! Ali, that
I had been reared and fostered as he was reared and fostered by
the wise centaur and under the eyes of the immortals! Then would
I do that which in my youth I often dreamed of doing! Then would
I perform a deed that would make my name and the name of my city
famous throughout all Greece! Then would I bring from far
Colchis, the famous Fleece of Gold that King Aetes keeps guard
over!"

He finished speaking, and all in the hall shouted out, "The
Golden Fleece, the Golden Fleece from Colchis!" Jason stood up,
and his father's hand gripped him. But he did not heed the hold
of his father's hand, for "The Golden Fleece, the Golden Fleece!"
rang in his ears, and before his eyes were the faces of those who
were all eager for the sight of the wonder that King Aetes kept
guard over.

Then said Jason, "Thou hast spoken well, O King Pelias! Know, and
know all here assembled, that I have heard of the Golden Fleece
and of the dangers that await on any one who should strive to win
it from King Aetes's care. But know, too, that I would strive to
win the Fleece and bring it to Iolcus, winning fame both for
myself and for the city."

When he had spoken he saw his father's stricken eyes; they were
fixed upon him. But he looked from them to the shining eyes of
the young men who were even then pressing around where he stood.
"Jason, Jason!" they shouted. "The Golden Fleece for Iolcus!"

"King Pelias knows that the winning of the Golden Fleece is a
feat most difficult," said Jason. "But if he will have built for
me a ship that can make the voyage to far Colchis, and if he will
send throughout all Greece the word of my adventuring so that all
the heroes who would win fame might come with me, and if ye,
young heroes of Iolcus, will come with me, I will peril my life
to win the wonder that King Aetes keeps guard over."

He spoke and those in the hall shouted again and made clamor
around him. But still his father sat gazing at him with stricken
eyes.

King Pelias stood up in the hall and holding up his scepter he
said, "O my nephew Jason, and O friends assembled here, I promise
that I will have built for the voyage the best ship that ever
sailed from a harbor in Greece. And I promise that I will send
throughout all Greece a word telling of Jason's voyage so that
all heroes desirous of winning fame may come to help him and to
help all of you who may go with him to win from the keeping of
King Aetes the famous Fleece of Gold."

So King Pelias said, but Jason, looking to the king from his
father's stricken eyes, saw that he had been led by the king into
the acceptance of the voyage so that he might fare far from
Iolcus, and perhaps lose his life in striving to gain the wonder
that King Aetes kept guarded. By the glitter in Pelias's eyes he
knew the truth. Nevertheless Jason would not take back one word
that he had spoken; his heart was strong within him, and he
thought that with the help of the bright-eyed youths around and
with the help of those who would come to him at the word of the
voyage, he would bring the Golden Fleece to Iolcus and make
famous for all time his own name.



IV. THE ASSEMBLING OF THE HEROES AND THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP

First there came the youths Castor and Polydeuces. They came
riding on white horses, two noble-looking brothers. From Sparta
they came, and their mother was Leda, who, after the twin
brothers, had another child born to her--Helen, for whose sake
the sons of many of Jason's friends were to wage war against the
great city of Troy. These were the first heroes who came to
Iolcus after the word had gone forth through Greece of Jason's
adventuring in quest of the Golden Fleece.

And then there came one who had both welcome and reverence from
Jason; this one came without spear or bow, bearing in his hands a
lyre only. He was Orpheus, and he knew all the ways of the gods
and all the stories of the gods; when he sang to his lyre the
trees would listen and the beasts would follow him. It was Chiron
who had counseled Orpheus to go with Jason; Chiron the centaur
had met him as he was wandering through the forests on the
Mountain Pelion and had sent him down into Iolcus.

Then there came two men well skilled in the handling of ships--
Tiphys and Nauplius. Tiphys knew all about the sun and winds and
stars, and all about the signs by which a ship might be steered,
and Nauplius had the love of Poseidon, the god of the sea.

Afterward there came, one after the other, two who were famous
for their hunting. No two could be more different than these two
were. The first was Arcas. He was dressed in the skin of a bear;
he had red hair and savage-looking eyes, and for arms he carried
a mighty bow with bronzetipped arrows. The folk were watching an
eagle as he came into the city, an eagle that was winging its way
far, far up in the sky. Arcas drew his bow, and with one arrow he
brought the eagle down.

The other hunter was a girl, Atalanta. Tall and brighthaired was
Atalanta, swift and good with the bow. She had dedicated herself
to Artemis, the guardian of the wild things, and she had vowed
that she would remain unwedded. All the heroes welcomed Atalanta
as a comrade, and the maiden did all the things that the young
men did.

There came a hero who was less youthful than Castor or
Polydeuces; he was a man good in council named Nestor. Afterward
Nestor went to the war against Troy, and then he was the oldest
of the heroes in the camp of Agamemnon.

Two brothers came who were to be special friends of Jason's--
Peleus and Telamon. Both were still youthful and neither had yet
achieved any notable deed. Afterward they were to be famous, but
their sons were to be even more famous, for the son of Telamon
was strong Aias, and the son of Peleus was great Achilles.

Another who came was Admetus; afterward he became a famous king.
The God Apollo once made himself a shepherd and he kept the
flocks of King Admetus.

And there came two brothers, twins, who were a wonder to all who
beheld them. Zetes and Calais they were named; their mother was
Oreithyia, the daughter of Erechtheus, King of Athens, and their
father was Boreas, the North Wind. These two brothers had on
their ankles wings that gleamed with golden scales; their black
hair was thick upon their shoulders, and it was always being
shaken by the wind.

With Zetes and Calais there came a youth armed with a great sword
whose name was Theseus. Theseus's father was an unknown king; he
had bidden the mother show their son where his sword was hidden.
Under a great stone the king had hidden it before Theseus was
born. Before he had grown out of his boyhood Theseus had been
able to raise the stone and draw forth his father's sword. As yet
he had done no great deed, but he was resolved to win fame and to
find his unknown father.

On the day that the messengers had set out to bring through
Greece the word of Jason's going forth in quest of the Golden
Fleece the woodcutters made their way up into the forests of
Mount Pelion; they began to fell trees for the timbers of the
ship that was to make the voyage to far Colchis.

Great timbers were cut and brought down to Pagasae, the harbor of
Iolcus. On the night of the day he had helped to bring them down
Jason had a dream. He dreamt that she whom he had seen in the
forest ways and afterward by the River Anaurus appeared to him.
And in his dream the goddess bade him rise early in the morning
and welcome a man whom he would meet at the city's gate - a tall
and gray-haired man who would have on his shoulders tools for the
building of a ship.

He went to the city's gate and he met such a man. Argus was his
name. He told Jason that a dream had sent him to the city of
Iolcus. Jason welcomed him and lodged him in the king's palace,
and that day the word went through the city that the building of
the great ship would soon be begun.

But not with the timbers brought from Mount Pelion did Argus
begin. Walking through the palace with Jason he noted a great
beam in the roof. That beam, he said, had been shown him in his
dream; it was from an oak tree in Dodona, the grove of Zeus. A
sacred power was in the beam, and from it the prow of the ship
should be fashioned. Jason had them take the beam from the roof
of the palace; it was brought to where the timbers were, and that
day the building of the great ship was begun.

Then all along the waterside came the noise of hammering; in the
street where the metalworkers were came the noise of beating upon
metals as the smiths fashioned out of bronze armor for the heroes
and swords and spears. Every day, under the eyes of Argus the
master, the ship that had in it the beam from Zeus's grove was
built higher and wider. And those who were building the ship
often felt going through it tremors as of a living creature.

When the ship was built and made ready for the voyage a name was
given to it--the Argo it was called. And naming themselves from
the ship the heroes called themselves the Argonauts. All was
ready for the voyage, and now Jason went with his friends to view
the ship before she was brought into the water.

Argus the master was on the ship, seeing to it that the last
things were being done before Argo was launched. Very grave and
wise looked Argus--Argus the builder of the ship. And wonderful
to the heroes the ship looked now that Argus, for their viewing,
had set up the mast with the sails and had even put the oars in
their places. Wonderful to the heroes Argo looked with her long
oars and her high sails, with her timbers painted red and gold
and blue, and with a marvelous figure carved upon her prow. All
over the ship Jason's eyes went. He saw a figure standing by the
mast; for a moment he looked on it, and then the figure became
shadowy. But Jason knew that he had looked upon the goddess whom
he had seen in the ways of the forest and had seen afterward by
the rough Anaurus.

Then mast and sails were taken down and the oars were left in the
ship, and the Argo was launched into the water. The heroes went
back to the palace of King Pelias to feast with the king's guests
before they took their places on the ship, setting out on the
voyage to far Colchis.

When they came into the palace they saw that another hero had
arrived. His shield was hung in the hall; the heroes all gathered
around, amazed at the size and the beauty of it. The shield shone
all over with gold. In its center was the figure of Fear--of Fear
that stared backward with eyes burning as with fire. The mouth
was open and the teeth were shown. And other figures were wrought
around the figure of Fear--Strife and Pursuit and Flight; Tumult
and Panic and Slaughter. The figure of Fate was there dragging a
dead man by the feet; on her shoulders Fate had a garment that
was red with the blood of men.

Around these figures were heads of snakes, heads with black jaws
and glittering eyes, twelve heads such as might affright any man.
And on other parts of the shield were shown the horses of Ares,
the grim god of war. The figure of Ares himself was shown also.
He held a spear in his hand, and he was urging the warriors on.

Around the inner rim of the shield the sea was shown, wrought in
white metal. Dolphins swam in the sea, fishing for little fishes
that were shown there in bronze. Around the rim chariots were
racing along with wheels running close together; there were men
fighting and women watching from high towers. The awful figure of
the Darkness of Death was shown there, too, with mournful eyes
and the dust of battles upon her shoulders. The outer rim of the
shield showed the Stream of Ocean, the stream that encircles the
world; swans were soaring above and swimming on its surface.

All in wonder the heroes gazed on the great shield, telling each
other that only one man in all the world could carry it--Heracles
the son of Zeus. Could it be that Heracles had come amongst them?
They went into the feasting hall and they saw one there who was
tall as a pine tree, with unshorn tresses of hair upon his head.
Heracles indeed it was! He turned to them a smiling face with
smiling eyes. Heracles! They all gathered around the strongest
hero in the world, and he took the hand of each in his mighty
hand.



V. THE ARGO

The heroes went the next day through the streets of Iolcus down
to where the ship lay. The ways they went through were crowded;
the heroes were splendid in their appearance, and Jason amongst
them shone like a star.

The people praised him, and one told the other that it would not
be long until they would win back to Iolcus, for this band of
heroes was strong enough, they said, to take King Aetes's city
and force him to give up to them the famous Fleece of Gold. Many
of the bright-eyed youths of Iolcus went with the heroes who had
come from the different parts of Greece.

As they marched past a temple a priestess came forth to speak to
Jason; Iphias was her name. She had a prophecy to utter about the
voyage. But Iphias was very old, and she stammered in her speech
to Jason. What she said was not heard by him. The heroes went on,
and ancient Iphias was left standing there as the old are left by
the young.

The heroes went aboard the Argo. They took their seats as at an
assembly. Then Jason faced them and spoke to them all.

"Heroes of the quest," said Jason, "we have come aboard the great
ship that Argus has built, and all that a ship needs is in its
place or is ready to our hands. All that we wait for now is the
coming of the morning's breeze that will set us on our way for
far Colchis.

"One thing we have first to do--that is, to choose a leader who
will direct us all, one who will settle disputes amongst
ourselves and who will make treaties between us and the strangers
that we come amongst. We must choose such a leader now."

Jason spoke, and some looked to him and some looked to Heracles.
But Heracles stood up, and, stretching out his hand, said:

"Argonauts! Let no one amongst you offer the leadership to me. I
will not take it. The hero who brought us together and made all
things ready for our going--it is he and no one else who should
be our leader in this voyage."

So Heracles said, and the Argonauts all stood up and raised a cry
for Jason. Then Jason stepped forward, and he took the hand of
each Argonaut in his hand, and he swore that he would lead them
with all the mind and all the courage that he possessed. And he
prayed the gods that it would be given to him to lead them back
safely with the Golden Fleece glittering on the mast of the Argo.

They drew lots for the benches they would sit at; they took the
places that for the length of the voyage they would have on the
ship. They made sacrifice to the gods and they waited for the
breeze of the morning that would help them away from Iolcus.

And while they waited Aeson, the father of Jason, sat at his own
hearth, bowed and silent in his grief. Alcimide, his wife, sat
near him, but she was not silent; she lamented to the women of
Iolcus who were gathered around her. "I did not go down to the
ship," she said, "for with my grief I would not be a bird of ill
omen for the voyage. By this hearth my son took farewell of me--
the only son I ever bore. From the doorway I watched him go down
the street of the city, and I heard the people shout as he went
amongst them, they glorying in my son's splendid appearance. Ah,
that I might live to see his return and to hear the shout that
will go up when the people look on Jason again! But I know that
my life will not be spared so long; I will not look on my son
when he comes back from the dangers he will run in the quest of
the Golden Fleece."

Then the women of Iolcus asked her to tell them of the Golden
Fleece, and Alcimide told them of it and of the sorrows that were
upon the race of Aeolus.

Cretheus, the father of Aeson, and Pelias, was of the race of
Aeolus, and of the race of Aeolus, too, was Athamas, the king who
ruled in Thebes at the same time that Cretheus ruled in Iolcus.
And the first children of Athamas were Phrixus and Helle.

"Ah, Phrixus and ah, Helle," Alcimide lamented, "what griefs you
have brought on the race of Aeolus! And what griefs you
yourselves suffered! The evil that Athamas, your father, did you
lives to be a curse to the line of Aeolus!

"Athamas was wedded first to Nephele, the mother of Phrixus and
Helle, the youth and maiden. But Athamas married again while the
mother of these children was still living, and Ino, the new
queen, drove Nephele and her children out of the king's palace.

"And now was Nephele most unhappy. She had to live as a servant,
and her children were servants to the servants of the palace.
They were clad in rags and had little to eat, and they were
beaten often by the servants who wished to win the favor of the
new queen.

"But although they wore rags and had menial tasks to do, Phrixus
and Helle looked the children of a queen. The boy was tall, and
in his eyes there often came the flash of power, and the girl
looked as if she would grow into a lovely maiden. And when
Athamas, their father, would meet them by chance he would sigh,
and Queen Ino would know by that sigh that he had still some love
for them in his heart. Afterward she would have to use all the
power she possessed to win the king back from thinking upon his
children.

"And now Queen Ino had children of her own. She knew that the
people reverenced the children of Nephele and cared nothing for
her children. And because she knew this she feared that when
Athamas died Phrixus and Helle, the children of Nephele, would be
brought to rule in Thebes. Then she and her children would be
made to change places with them.

"This made Queen Ino think on ways by which she could make
Phrixus and Helle lose their lives. She thought long upon this,
and at last a desperate plan came into her mind.

"When it was winter she went amongst the women of the
countryside, and she gave them jewels and clothes for presents.
Then she asked them to do secretly an unheard-of thing. She asked
the women to roast over their fires the grains that had been left
for seed. This the women did. Then spring came on, and the men
sowed in the fields the grain that had been roasted over the
fires. No shoots grew up as the spring went by. In summer there
was no waving greenness in the fields. Autumn came, and there was
no grain for the reaping. Then the men, not knowing what had
happened, went to King Athamas and told him that there would be
famine in the land.

"The king sent to the temple of Artemis to ask how the people
might be saved from the famine. And the guardians of the temple,
having taken gold from Queen Ino, told them that there would be
worse and worse famine and that all the people of Thebes would
die of hunger unless the king was willing to make a great
sacrifice.

"When the king asked what sacrifice he should make he was told by
the guardians of the temple that he must sacrifice to the goddess
his two children, Phrixus and Helle. Those who were around the
king, to save themselves from famine after famine, clamored to
have the children sacrificed. Athamas, to save his people,
consented to the sacrifice.

"They went toward the king's palace. They found Helle by the bank
of the river washing clothes. They took her and bound her. They
found Phrixus, half naked, digging in a field, and they took him,
too, and bound him. That night they left brother and sister in
the same prison. Helle wept over Phrixus, and Phrixus wept to
think that he was not able to do anything to save his sister.

"The servants of the palace went to Nephele, and they mocked at
her, telling her that her children would be sacrificed on the
morrow. Nephele nearly went wild in her grief. And then,
suddenly, there came into her mind the thought of a creature that
might be a helper to her and to her children.

"This creature was a ram that had wings and a wonderful fleece of
gold. The god of the sea, Poseidon, had sent this wonderful ram
to Athamas and Nephele as a marriage gift. And the ram had since
been kept in a special fold.

"To that fold Nephele went. She spent the night beside the ram
praying for its help. The morning came and the children were
taken from their prison and dressed in white, and wreaths were
put upon their heads to mark them as things for sacrifice. They
were led in a procession to the temple of Artemis. Behind that
procession King Athamas walked, his head bowed in shame.

"But Queen Ino's head was not bowed; rather she carried it high,
for her thought was all upon her triumph. Soon Phrixus and Helle
would be dead, and then, whatever happened, her own children
would reign after Athamas in Thebes.

"Phrixus and Helle, thinking they were taking their last look at
the sun, went on. And even then Nephele, holding the horns of the
golden ram, was making her last prayer. The sun rose and as it
did the ram spread out its great wings and flew through the air.
It flew to the temple of Artemis. Down beside the altar came the
golden ram, and it stood with its horns threatening those who
came. All stopped in surprise. Still the ram stood with
threatening head and great golden wings spread out. Then Phrixus
ran from those who were holding him and laid his hands upon the
ram. He called to Helle and she, too, came to the golden
creature. Phrixus mounted on the ram and he pulled Helle up
beside him. Then the golden ram flew upward. Up, up, it went, and
with the children upon its back it became like a star in the
day-lit sky.

"Then Queen Ino, seeing the children saved by the golden ram,
shrieked and fled away from that place. Athamas ran after her. As
she ran and as he followed hatred for her grew up within him. Ino
ran on and on until she came to the cliffs that rose over the
sea. Fearing Athamas who came behind her she plunged down. But as
she fell she was changed by Poseidon, the god of the sea. She
became a seagull. Athamas, who followed her, was changed also; he
became the sea eagle that, with beak and talons ever ready to
strike, flies above the sea.

"And the golden ram with wings outspread flew on and on. Over the
sea it flew while the wind whistled around the children. On and
on they went, and the children saw only the blue sea beneath
them. Then poor Helle, looking downward, grew dizzy. She fell off
the golden ram before her brother could take hold of her. Down
she fell, and still the ram flew on and on. She was drowned in
that sea. The people afterward named it in memory of her, calling
it 'Hellespont'--'Helle's Sea.'

"On and on the ram flew. Over a wild and barren country it flew
and toward a river. Upon that river a white city was built. Down
the ram flew, and alighting on the ground, stood before the gate
of that city. It was the city of Aea, in the land of Colchis.

"The king was in the street of the city, and he joined with the
crowd that gathered around the strange golden creature that had a
youth upon its back. The ram folded its wings and then the youth
stood beside it. He spoke to the people, and then the king--
Aeetes was his name--spoke to him, asking him from what place he
had come, and what was the strange creature upon whose back he
had flown.

"To the king and to the people Phrixus told his story, weeping to
tell of Helle and her fall. Then King Aeetes brought him into the
city, and he gave him a place in the palace, and for the golden
ram he had a special fold made.

"Soon after the ram died, and then King Aeetes took its golden
fleece and hung it upon an oak tree that was in a place dedicated
to Ares, the god of war. Phrixus wed one of the daughters of the
king, and men say that afterward he went back to Thebes, his own
land.

"And as for the Golden Fleece it became the greatest of King
Aeetes's treasures. Well indeed does he guard it, and not with
armed men only, but with magic powers. Very strong and very
cunning is King Aeetes, and a terrible task awaits those who
would take away from him that Fleece of Gold."

So Alcimide spoke, sorrowfully telling to the women the story of
the Golden Fleece that her son Jason was going in quest of. So
she spoke, and the night waned, and the morning of the sailing of
the Argo came on.

And when the Argonauts beheld the dawn upon the high peaks of
Pelion they arose and poured out wine in offering to Zeus, the
highest of the gods. Then Argo herself gave forth a strange cry,
for the beam from Dodona that had been formed into her prow had
endued her with life. She uttered a strange cry, and as she did
the heroes took their places at the benches, one after the other,
as had been arranged by lot, and Tiphys, the helmsman, went to
the steering place. To the sound of Orpheus's lyre they smote
with oars the rushing sea water, and the surge broke over the oar
blades. The sails were let out and the breeze came into them,
piping shrilly, and the fishes came darting through the green
sea, great and small, and followed them, gamboling along the
watery paths. And Chiron, the king-centaur, came down from the
Mountain Pelion, and standing with his feet in the foam cried
out, "Good speed, O Argonauts, good speed, and a sorrowless
return."



THE BEGINNING OF THINGS

Orpheus sang to his lyre, Orpheus the minstrel, who knew the ways
and the stories of the gods; out in the open sea on the first
morning of the voyage Orpheus sang to them of the beginning of
things.

He sang how at first Earth and Heaven and Sea were all mixed and
mingled together. There was neither Light nor Darkness then, but
only a Dimness. This was Chaos. And from Chaos came forth Night
and Erebus. From Night was born Aether, the Upper Air, and from
Night and Erebus wedded there was born Day.

And out of Chaos came Earth, and out of Earth came the starry
Heaven. And from Heaven and Earth wedded there were born the
Titan gods and goddesses--Oceanus, Coeus, Crius, Hyperion,
Iapetus; Theia, Rhea, Themis, Mnemosyne, gold-crowned Phoebe, and
lovely Tethys. And then Heaven and Earth had for their child
Cronos, the most cunning of all.

Cronos wedded Rhea, and from Cronos and Rhea were born the gods
who were different from the Titan gods.

But Heaven and Earth had other children--Cottus, Briareus, and
Gyes. These were giants, each with fifty heads and a hundred
arms. And Heaven grew fearful when he looked on these giant
children, and he hid them away in the deep places of the Earth.

Cronos hated Heaven, his father. He drove Heaven, his father, and
Earth, his mother, far apart. And far apart they stay, for they
have never been able to come near each other since. And Cronos
married to Rhea had for children Hestia, Demeter, Hera, Aidoneus,
and Poseidon, and these all belonged to the company of the
deathless gods. Cronos was fearful that one of his sons would
treat him as he had treated Heaven, his father. So when another
child was born to him and his wife Rhea he commanded that the
child be given to him so that he might swallow him. But Rhea
wrapped a great stone in swaddling clothes and gave the stone to
Cronos. And Cronos swallowed the stone, thinking to swallow his
latest-born child.

That child was Zeus. Earth took Zeus and hid him in a deep cave
and those who minded and nursed the child beat upon drums so that
his cries might not be heard. His nurse was Adrastia; when he was
able to play she gave him a ball to play with. All of gold was
the ball, with a dark-blue spiral around it. When the boy Zeus
would play with this ball it would make a track across the sky,
flaming like a star.

Hyperion the Titan god wed Theia the Titan goddess, and their
children were Hellos, the bright Sun, and Selene, the clear Moon.
And Coeus wed Phoebe, and their children were Leto, who is kind
to gods and men, and Asteria of happy name, and Hecate, whom Zeus
honored above all. Now the gods who were the children of Cronos
and Rhea went up unto the Mountain Olympus, and there they built
their shining palaces. But the Titan gods who were born of Heaven
and Earth went up to the Mountain Othrys, and there they had
their thrones.

Between the Olympians and the Titan gods of Othrys a war began.
Neither side might prevail against the other. But now Zeus, grown
up to be a youth, thought of how he might help the Olympians to
overthrow the Titan gods.

He went down into the deep parts of the Earth where the giants
Cottus, Briareus, and Gyes had been hidden by their father.
Cronos had bound them, weighing them down with chains. But now
Zeus loosed them and the hundred-armed giants in their gratitude
gave him the lightning and showed him how to use the thunderbolt.

Zeus would have the giants fight against the Titan gods. But
although they had mighty strength Cottus, Briareus, and Gyes
had no fire of courage in their hearts. Zeus thought of a way to
give them this courage; he brought the food and drink of the gods
to them, ambrosia and nectar, and when they had eaten and drunk
their spirits grew within the giants, and they were ready to make
war upon the Titan gods.

"Sons of Earth and Heaven," said Zeus to the hundred-armed
giants, "a long time now have the Dwellers on Olympus been
striving with the Titan gods. Do you lend your unconquerable
might to the gods and help them to overthrow the Titans."

Cottus, the eldest of the giants, answered, "Divine One, through
your devising we are come back again from the murky gloom of the
mid Earth and we have escaped from the hard bonds that Cronos
laid upon us. Our minds are fixed to aid you in the war against
the Titan gods."

So the hundred-armed giants said, and thereupon Zeus went and he
gathered around him all who were born of Cronos and Rhea. Cronos
himself hid from Zeus. Then the giants, with their fifty heads
growing from their shoulders and their hundred hands, went forth
against the Titan gods. The boundless sea rang terribly and the
earth crashed loudly; wide Heaven was shaken and groaned, and
high Olympus reeled from its foundation. Holding huge rocks in
their hands the giants attacked the Titan gods.

Then Zeus entered the war. He hurled the lightning; the bolts
flew thick and fast from his strong hand, with thunder and
lightning and flame. The earth crashed around in burning, the
forests crackled with fire, the ocean seethed. And hot flames
wrapped the earth-born Titans all around. Three hundred rocks,
one upon another, did Cottus, Briareus, and Gyes hurl upon the
Titans. And when their ranks were broken the giants seized upon
them and held them for Zeus.

But some of the Titan gods, seeing that the strife for them
was vain, went over to the side of Zeus. These Zeus became
friendly with. But the other Titans he bound in chains and he
hurled them down to Tartarus.

As far as Earth is from Heaven so is Tartarus from Earth. A
brazen anvil falling down from Heaven to Earth nine days and nine
nights would reach the earth upon the tenth day. And again, a
brazen anvil falling from Earth nine nights and nine days would
reach Tartarus upon the tenth night. Around Tartarus runs a fence
of bronze and Night spreads in a triple line all about it, as a
necklace circles the neck. There Zeus imprisoned the Titan gods
who had fought against him; they are hidden in the misty gloom,
in a dank place, at the ends of the Earth. And they may not go
out, for Poseidon fixed gates of bronze upon their prison, and a
wall runs all round it. There Cottus, Briareus, and Gyes stay,
guarding them.

And there, too, is the home of Night. Night and Day meet each
other at that place, as they pass a threshold of bronze. They
draw near and they greet one another, but the house never holds
them both together, for while one is about to go down into the
house, the other is leaving through the door. One holds Light in
her hand and the other holds in her arms Sleep.

There the children of dark Night have their dwellings--Sleep,
and Death, his brother. The sun never shines upon these two.
Sleep may roam over the wide earth, and come upon the sea, and he
is kindly to men. But Death is not kindly, and whoever he seizes
upon, him he holds fast.

There, too, stands the hall of the lord of the Underworld,
Aidoneus, the brother of Zeus. Zeus gave him the Underworld to be
his dominion when he shared amongst the Olympians the world that
Cronos had ruled over. A fearful hound guards the hall of
Aidoneus: Cerberus he is called; he has three heads. On those who
go within that hall Cerberus fawns, but on those who would come
out of it he springs and would devour them.

Not all the Titans did Zeus send down to Tartarus. Those of them
who had wisdom joined him, and by their wisdom Zeus was able to
overcome Cronos. Then Cronos went to live with the friendly Titan
gods, while Zeus reigned over Olympus, becoming the ruler of gods
and men.

So Orpheus sang, Orpheus who knew the ways and the histories of
the gods.



VI. POLYDEUCES' VICTORY AND HERACLES' LOSS

All the places that the Argonauts came nigh to and went past need
not be told--Melibcea, where they escaped a stormy beach; Homole,
from where they were able to look on Ossa and holy Olympus;
Lemnos, the island that they were to return to; the unnamed
country where the Earth-born Men abide, each having six arms, two
growing from his shoulders, and four fitting close to his
terrible sides; and then the Mountain of the Bears, where they
climbed, to make sacrifice there to Rhea, the mighty mother of
the gods.

Afterward, for a whole day, no wind blew and the sail of the Argo
hung slack. But the heroes swore to each other that they would
make their ship go as swiftly as if the storm-footed steeds of
Poseidon were racing to overtake her. Mightily they labored at
the oars, and no one would be first to leave his rower's bench.

And then, just as the breeze of the evening came up, and just as
the rest of the heroes were leaning back, spent with their labor,
the oar that Heracles still pulled at broke, and half of it was
carried away by the waves. Heracles sat there in ill humor, for
he did not know what to do with his unlaboring hands.

All through the night they went on with a good breeze filling
their sails, and next day they came to the mouth of the River
Cius. There they landed so that Heracles might get himself an
oar. No sooner did they set their feet upon the shore than the
hero went off into the forest, to pull up a tree that he might
shape into an oar.

Where they had landed was near to the country of the Bebrycians,
a rude people whose king was named Amycus. Now while Heracles was
away from them this king came with his followers, huge, rude men,
all armed with clubs, down to where the Argonauts were lighting
their fires on the beach.

He did not greet them courteously, asking them what manner of men
they were and whither they were bound, nor did he offer them
hospitality. Instead, he shouted at them insolently:

"Listen to something that you rovers had better know. I am
Amycus, and any stranger that comes to this land has to get into
a boxing bout with me. That's the law that I have laid down.
Unless you have one amongst you who can stand up to me you won't
be let go back to your ship. If you don't heed my law, look out,
for something's going to happen to you."

So he shouted, that insolent king, and his followers raised their
clubs and growled approval of what their master said. But the
Argonauts were not dismayed at the words of Amycus. One of them
stepped toward the Bebrycians. He was Polydeuces, good at boxing.

"Offer us no violence, king," said Polydeuces. "We are ready to
obey the law that you have laid down. Willingly do I take up your
challenge, and I will box a bout with you."

The Argonauts cheered when they saw Polydeuces, the good boxer,
step forward, and when they heard what he had to say. Amycus
turned and shouted to his followers, and one of them brought up
two pairs of boxing gauntlets--of rough cowhide they were. The
Argonauts feared that Polydeuces' hands might have been made numb
with pulling at the oar, and some of them went to him, and took
his hands and rubbed them to make them supple; others took from
off his shoulders his beautifully colored mantle.

Amycus straightway put on his gauntlets and threw off his mantle;
he stood there amongst his followers with his great arms crossed,
glowering at the Argonauts as a wild beast might glower. And when
the two faced each other Amycus seemed like one of the Earthborn
Men, dark and hugely shaped, while Helen's brother stood there
light and beautiful. Polydeuces was like that star whose beams
are lovely at evening-tide.

Like the wave that breaks over a ship and gives the sailors no
respite Amycus came on at Polydeuces. He pushed in upon him,
thinking to bear him down and overwhelm him. But as the skillful
steersman keeps the ship from being overwhelmed by the monstrous
wave, so Polydeuces, all skill and lightness, baffled the rushes
of Amycus. At last Amycus, standing on the tips of his toes and
rising high above him, tried to bring down his great fist upon
the head of Polydeuces. The hero swung aside and took the blow on
his shoulder. Then he struck his blow. It was a strong one, and
under it the king of the Bebrycians staggered and fell down. "You
see," said Polydeuces, "that we keep your law."

The Argonauts shouted, but the rude Bebrycians raised their clubs
to rush upon them. Then would the heroes have been hard pressed,
and forced, perhaps, to get back to the Argo. But suddenly
Heracles appeared amongst them, coming up from the forest.

He carried a pine tree in his hands with all its branches still
upon it, and seeing this mighty-statured man appear with the
great tree in his hands, the Bebrycians hurried off, carrying
their fallen king with them. Then the Argonauts gathered around
Polydeuces, saluted him as their champion, and put a crown of
victory upon his head. Heracles, meanwhile, lopped off the
branches of the pine tree and began to fashion it into an oar.

The fires were lighted upon the shore, and the thoughts of all
were turned to supper. Then young Hylas, who used to sit by
Heracles and keep bright the hero's arms and armor, took a bronze
vessel and went to fetch water.

Never was there a boy so beautiful as young Hylas. He had golden
curls that tumbled over his brow. He had deep blue eyes and a
face that smiled at every glance that was given him, at every
word that was said to him. Now as he walked through the flowering
grasses, with his knees bare, and with the bright vessel swinging
in his hand, he looked most lovely. Heracles had brought the boy
with him from the country of the Dryopians; he would have him sit
beside him on the bench of the Argo, and the ill humors that
often came upon him would go at the words and the smile of Hylas.

Now the spring that Hylas was going toward was called Pegae, and
it was haunted by the nymphs. They were dancing around it when
they heard Hylas singing. They stole softly off to watch him.
Hidden behind trees the nymphs saw the boy come near, and they
felt such love for him that they thought they could never let him
go from their sight.

They stole back to their spring, and they sank down below its
clear surface. Then came Hylas singing a song that he had heard
from his mother. He bent down to the spring, and the brimming
water flowed into the sounding bronze of the pitcher. Then hands
came out of the water. One of the nymphs caught Hylas by the
elbow; another put her arms around his neck, another took the
hand that held the vessel of bronze. The pitcher sank down to the
depths of the spring. The hands of the nymphs clasped Hylas
tighter, tighter; the water bubbled around him as they drew him
down. Down, down they drew him,and into the cold and glimmering
cave where they live.

There Hylas stayed. But although the nymphs kissed him and sang
to him, and showed him lovely things, Hylas was not content to be
there.

Where the Argonauts were the fires burned, the moon arose, and
still Hylas did not return. Then they began to fear lest a wild
beast had destroyed the boy. One went to Heracles and told him
that young Hylas had not come back, and that they were fearful
for him. Heracles flung down the pine tree that he was fashioning
into an oar, and he dashed along the way that Hylas had gone as
if a gadfly were stinging him. "Hylas, Hylas," he cried. But
Hylas, in the cold and glimmering cave that the nymphs had drawn
him into, did not hear the call of his friend Heracles.

All the Argonauts went searching, calling as they went through
the island, "Hylas, Hylas, Hylas!" But only their own calls came
back to them. The morning star came up, and Tiphys, the
steersman, called to them from the Argo. And when they came to
the ship Tiphys told them that they would have to go aboard and
make ready to sail from that place.

They called to Heracles, and Heracles at last came down to the
ship. They spoke to him, saying that they would have to sail
away. Heracles would not go on board. "I will not leave this
island," he said, "until I find young Hylas or learn what has
happened to him."

Then Jason arose to give the command to depart. But before the
words were said Telamon stood up and faced him. "Jason," he said
angrily, "you do not bid Heracles come on board, and you would
have the Argo leave without him. You would leave Heracles here so
that he may not be with us on the quest where his glory might
overshadow your glory, Jason."

Jason said no word, but he sat back on his bench with head bowed.
And then, even as Telamon said these angry words, a strange
figure rose up out of the waves of the sea.

It was the figure of a man, wrinkled and old, with seaweed in his
beard and his hair. There was a majesty about him, and the
Argonauts all knew that this was one of the immortals--he was
Nereus, the ancient one of the sea.

"To Heracles, and to you, the rest of the Argonauts, I have a
thing to say," said the ancient one, Nereus. "Know, first, that
Hylas has been taken by the nymphs who love him and who think to
win his love, and that he will stay forever with them in their
cold and glimmering cave. For Hylas seek no more. And to you,
Heracles, I will say this: Go aboard the Argo again; the ship
will take you to where a great labor awaits you, and which, in
accomplishing, you will work out the will of Zeus. You will know
what this labor is when a spirit seizes on you." So the ancient
one of the sea said, and he sank back beneath the waves.

Heracles went aboard the Argo once more, and he took his place on
the bench, the new oar in his hand. Sad he was to think that
young Hylas who used to sit at his knee would never be there
again. The breeze filled the sail, the Argonauts pulled at the
oars, and in sadness they watched the island where young Hylas
had been lost to them recede from their view.



VII. KING PHINEUS

Said Tiphys, the steersman: "If we could enter the Sea of Pontus,
we could make our way across that sea to Colchis in a short time.
But the passage into the Sea of Pontus is most perilous, and few
mortals dare even to make approach to it."

Said Jason, the chieftain of the host: "The dangers of the
passage, Tiphys, we have spoken of, and it may be that we shall
have to carry Argo overland to the Sea of Pontus. But You,
Tiphys, have spoken of a wise king who is hereabouts, and who
might help us to make the dangerous passage. Speak again to us,
and tell us what the dangers of the passage are, and who the king
is who may be able to help us to make these dangers less."

Then said Tiphys, the steersman of the Argo: "No ship sailed by
mortals has as yet gone through the passage that brings this sea
into the Sea of Pontus. In the way are the rocks that mariners
call The Clashers. These rocks are not fixed as rocks should be,
but they rush one against the other, dashing up the sea, and
crushing whatever may be between. Yea, if Argo were of iron, and
if she were between these rocks when they met, she would be
crushed to bits. I have sailed as far as that passage, but seeing
The Clashers strike together I turned back my ship, and journeyed
as far as the Sea of Pontus overland.

"But I have been told of one who knows how a ship may be taken
through the passage that The Clashers make so perilous. He who
knows is a king hereabouts, Phineus, who has made himself as wise
as the gods. To no one has Phineus told how the passage may be
made, but knowing what high favor has been shown to us, the
Argonauts, it may be that he will tell us."

So Tiphys said, and Jason commanded him to steer the Argo toward
the city where ruled Phineus, the wise king.

To Salmydessus, then, where Phineus ruled, Tiphys steered the
Argo. They left Heracles with Tiphys aboard to guard the ship,
and, with the rest of the heroes, Jason went through the streets
of the city. They met many men, but when they asked any of them
how they might come to the palace of King Phineus the men turned
fearfully away.

They found their way to the king's palace. Jason spoke to the
servants and bade them tell the king of their coming. The
servants, too, seemed fearful, and as Jason and his comrades were
wondering what there was about him that made men fearful at his
name, Phineus, the king, came amongst them.

Were it not that he had a purple border to his robe no one would
have known him for the king, so miserable did this man seem. He
crept along, touching the walls, for the eyes in his head were
blind and withered. His body was shrunken, and when he stood
before them leaning on his staff he was like to a lifeless thing.
He turned his blinded eyes upon them, looking from one to the
other as if he were searching for a face.

Then his sightless eyes rested upon Zetes and Calais, the sons of
Boreas, the North Wind. A change came into his face as it turned
upon them. One would think that he saw the wonder that these two
were endowed with--the wings that grew upon their ankles. It was
awhile before he turned his face from them; then he spoke to
Jason and said:

"You have come to have counsel with one who has the wisdom of the
gods. Others before you have come for such counsel, but seeing
the misery that is visible upon me they went without asking for
counsel: I would strive to hold you here for a while. Stay, and
have sight of the misery the gods visit upon those who would be
as wise as they. And when you have seen the thing that is wont to
befall me, it may be that help will come from you for me."

Then Phineus, the blind king, left them, and after a while the
heroes were brought into a great hall, and they were invited to
rest themselves there while a banquet was being prepared for
them. The hall was richly adorned, but it looked to the heroes as
if it had known strange happenings; rich hangings were strewn
upon the ground, an ivory chair was overturned, and the dais
where the king sat had stains upon it. The servants who went
through the hall making ready the banquet were white-faced and
fearful.

The feast was laid on a great table, and the heroes were invited
to sit down to it. The king did not come into the hall before
they sat down, but a table with food was set before the dais.
When the heroes had feasted, the king came into the hall. He sat
at the table, blind, white-faced, and shrunken, and the Argonauts
all turned their faces to him.

Said Phineus, the blind king: "You see, O heroes, how much my
wisdom avails me. You see me blind and shrunken, who tried to
make myself in wisdom equal to the gods. And yet you have not
seen all. Watch now and see what feasts Phineus, the wise king,
has to delight him."

He made a sign, and the white-faced and trembling servants
brought food and set it upon the table that was before him. The
king bent forward as if to eat, and they saw that his face was
covered with the damp of fear. He took food from the dish and
raised it to his mouth. As he did, the doors of the hall were
flung open as if by a storm. Strange shapes flew into the hall
and set themselves beside the king. And when the Argonauts looked
upon them they saw that these were terrible and unsightly shapes.

They were things that had the wings and claws of birds and the
heads of women. Black hair and gray feathers were mixed upon
them; they had red eyes, and streaks of blood were upon their
breasts and wings. And as the king raised the food to his mouth
they flew at him and buffeted his head with their wings, and
snatched the food from his hands. Then they devoured or scattered
what was upon the table, and all the time they screamed and
laughed and mocked.

"Ah, now ye see," Phineus panted, "what it is to have wisdom
equal to the wisdom of the gods. Now ye all see my misery. Never
do I strive to put food to my lips but these foul things, the
Harpies, the Snatchers, swoop down and scatter or devour what I
would eat. Crumbs they leave me that my life may not altogether
go from me, but these crumbs they make foul to my taste and my
smell."

And one of the Harpies perched herself on the back of the king's
throne and looked upon the heroes with red eyes. "Hah," she
screamed, "you bring armed men into your feasting hall, thinking
to scare us away. Never, Phineus, can you scare us from you!
Always you will have us, the Snatchers, beside you when you would
still your ache of hunger. What can these men do against us who
are winged and who can travel through the ways of the air?"

So said the unsightly Harpy, and the heroes drew together, made
fearful by these awful shapes. All drew back except Zetes and
Calais, the sons of the North Wind. They laid their hands upon
their swords. The wings on their shoulders spread out and the
wings at their heels trembled. Phineus, the king, leaned forward
and panted: "By the wisdom I have I know that there are two
amongst you who can save me. O make haste to help me, ye who can
help me, and I will give the counsel that you Argonauts have come
to me for, and besides I will load down your ship with treasure
and costly stuffs. Oh, make haste, ye who can help me!"

Hearing the king speak like this, the Harpies gathered together
and gnashed with their teeth, and chattered to one another. Then,
seeing Zetes and Calais with their hands upon their swords, they
rose up on their wings and flew through the wide doors of the
hall. The king cried out to Zetes and Calais. But the sons of the
North Wind had already risen with their wings, and they were
after the Harpies, their bright swords in their hands.

On flew the Harpies, screeching and gnashing their teeth in anger
and dismay, for now they felt that they might be driven from
Salmydessus, where they had had such royal feasts. They rose high
in the air and flew out toward the sea. But high as the Harpies
rose, the sons of the North Wind rose higher. The Harpies cried
pitiful cries as they flew on, but Zetes and Calais felt no pity
for them, for they knew that these dread Snatchers, with the
stains of blood upon their breasts and wings, had shown pity
neither to Phineus nor to any other.

On they flew until they came to the island that is called the
Floating Island. There the Harpies sank down with wearied wings.
Zetes and Calais were upon them now, and they would have cut them
to pieces with their bright swords, if the messenger of Zeus,
Iris, with the golden wings, had not come between.

"Forbear to slay the Harpies, sons of Boreas," cried Iris
warningly, "forbear to slay the Harpies that are the hounds of
Zeus. Let them cower here and hide themselves, and I, who come
from Zeus, will swear the oath that the gods most dread, that
they will never again come to Salmydessus to trouble Phineus, the
king."

The heroes yielded to the words of Iris. She took the oath that
the gods most dread--the oath by the Water of Styx--that never
again would the Harpies show themselves to Phineus. Then Zetes
and Calais turned back toward the city of Salmydessus. The island
that they drove the Harpies to had been called the Floating
Island, but thereafter it was called the Island of Turning. It
was evening when they turned back, and all night long the
Argonauts and King Phineus sat in the hall of the palace and
awaited the return of Zetes and Calais, the sons of the North
Wind.



VIII. King Phineus's Counsel; the Landing in Lemnos

They came into King Phineus's hall, their bright swords in their
hands. The Argonauts crowded around them and King Phineus raised
his head and stretched out his thin hands to them. And Zetes and
Calais told their comrades and told the king how they had driven
the Harpies down to the Floating Island, and how Iris, the
messenger of Zeus, had sworn the great oath that was by the Water
of Styx that never again would the Snatchers show themselves in
the palace.

Then a great golden cup brimming with wine was brought to the
king. He stood holding it in his trembling hands, fearful even
then that the Harpies would tear the cup out of his hands. He
drank--long and deeply he drank--and the dread shapes of the
Snatchers did not appear. Down amongst the heroes he came and he
took into his the hands of Zetes and Calais, the sons of the
North Wind.

"O heroes greater than any kings," he said, "ye have delivered
me from the terrible curse that the gods had sent upon me. I
thank ye, and I thank ye all, heroes of the quest. And the thanks
of Phineus will much avail you all."

Clasping the hands of Zetes and Calais he led the heroes through
hall after hall of his palace and down into his treasure chamber.
There he bestowed upon the banishers of the Harpies crowns and
arm rings of gold and richly-colored garments and brazen chests
in which to store the treasure that he gave. And to Jason he gave
an ivory-hilted and golden-cased sword, and on each of the
voyagers he bestowed a rich gift, not forgetting the heroes who
had remained on the Argo, Heracles and Tiphys.

They went back to the great hall, and a feast was spread for the
king and for the Argonauts. They ate from rich dishes and they
drank from flowing wine cups. Phineus ate and drank as the heroes
did, and no dread shapes came before him to snatch from him nor
to buffet him. But as Jason looked upon the man who had striven
to equal the gods in wisdom, and noted his blinded eyes and
shrunken face, he resolved never to harbor in his heart such
presumption as Phineus had harbored.

When the feast was finished the king spoke to Jason, telling him
how the Argo might be guided through the Symplegades, the dread
passage into the Sea of Pontus. He told them to bring their ship
near to the Clashing Rocks. And one who had the keenest sight
amongst them was to stand at the prow of the ship holding a
pigeon in his hands. As the rocks came together he was to loose
the pigeon. If it found a space to fly through they would know
that the Argo could make the passage, and they were to steer
straight toward where the pigeon had flown. But if it fluttered
down to the sea, or flew back to them, or became lost in the
clouds of spray, they were to know that the Argo might not make
that passage. Then the heroes would have to take their ship
overland to where they might reach the Sea of Pontus.

That day they bade farewell to Phineus, and with the treasures he
had bestowed upon them they went down to the Argo. To Heracles
and Tiphys they gave the presents that the king had sent them. In
the morning they drew the Argo out of the harbor of Salmydessus,
and set sail again.

But not until long afterward did they come to the Symplegades,
the passage that was to be their great trial. For they landed
first in a country that was full of woods, where they were
welcomed by a king who had heard of the voyagers and of their
quest. There they stayed and hunted for many days in the woods.
And there a great loss befell the Argonauts, for Tiphys, as he
went through the woods, was bitten by a snake and died. He who
had braved so many seas and so many storms lost his life away
from the ship. The Argonauts made a tomb for him on the shore of
that land--a great pile of stones, in which they fixed upright
his steering oar. Then they set sail again, and Nauplius was made
the steersman of the ship.

The course was not so clear to Nauplius as it had been to Tiphys.
The steersman did not find his bearings, and for many days and
nights the Argo was driven on a backward course. They came to an
island that they knew to be that Island of Lemnos that they had
passed on the first days of the voyage, and they resolved to
rest there for a while, and then to press on for the passage into
the Sea of Pontus.

They brought the Argo near the shore. They blew trumpets and set
the loudest-voiced of the heroes to call out to those upon the
island. But no answer came to them, and all day the Argo lay
close to the island.

There were hidden people watching them, people with bows in their
hands and arrows laid along the bowstrings. And the people who
thus threatened the unknowing Argonauts were women and young
girls.

There were no men upon the Island of Lemnos. Years before a curse
had fallen upon the people of that island, putting strife between
the men and the women. And the women had mastered the men and had
driven them away from Lemnos. Since then some of the women had
grown old, and the girls who were children when their fathers and
brothers had been banished were now of an age with Atalanta, the
maiden who went with the Argonauts.

They chased the wild beasts of the island, and they tilled the
fields, and they kept in good repair the houses that were built
before the banishing of the men. The older women served those who
were younger, and they had a queen, a girl whose name was
Hypsipyle.

The women who watched with bows in their hands would have shot
their arrows at the Argonauts if Hypsipyle's nurse, Polyxo,
had not stayed them. She forbade them to shoot at the strangers
until she had brought to them the queen's commands.

She hastened to the palace and she found the young queen weaving
at a loom. She told her about the ship and the strangers on board
the ship, and she asked the queen what word she should bring to
the guardian maidens.

"Before you give a command, Hypsipyle," said Polyxo, the nurse,
"consider these words of mine. We, the elder women, are becoming
ancient now; in a few years we will not be able to serve you, the
younger women, and in a few years more we will have gone into the
grave and our places will know us no more. And you, the younger
women, will be becoming strengthless, and no more will be you
able to hunt in the woods nor to till the fields, and a hard old
age will be before you.

"The ship that is beside our shore may have come at a good time.
Those on board are goodly heroes. Let them land in Lemnos, and
stay if they will. Let them wed with the younger women so that
there may be husbands and wives, helpers and helpmeets, again in
Lemnos."

Hypsipyle, the queen, let the shuttle fall from her hands and
stayed for a while looking full into Polyxo's face. Had her nurse
heard her say something like this out of her dreams, she
wondered? She bade the nurse tell the guardian maidens to let the
heroes land in safety, and that she herself would put the crown
of King Thoas, her father, upon her head, and go down to the
shore to welcome them.

And now the Argonauts saw people along the shore and they caught
sight of women's dresses. The loudest-voiced amongst them shouted
again, and they heard an answer given in a woman's voice. They
drew up the Argo upon the shore, and they set foot upon the land
of Lemnos.

Jason stepped forth at the head of his comrades, and he was met
by Hypsipyle, her father's crown upon her head, at the head of
her maidens. They greeted each other, and Hypsipyle bade the
heroes come with them to their town that was called Myrine and to
the palace that was there.

Wonderingly the Argonauts went, looking on women's forms and
faces and seeing no men. They came to the palace and went within.
Hypsipyle mounted the stone throne that was King Thoas's and the
four maidens who were her guards stood each side of her. She
spoke to the heroes in greeting and bade them stay in peace for
as long as they would. She told them of the curse that had fallen
upon the people of Lemnos, and of how the menfolk had been
banished. Jason, then, told the queen what voyage he and his
companions were upon and what quest they were making. Then in
friendship the Argonauts and the women of Lemnos stayed together
--all the Argonauts except Heracles, and he, grieving still for
Hylas, stayed aboard the Argo.



IX. The Lemnian Maidens

And now the Argonauts were no longer on a ship that was being
dashed on by the sea and beaten upon by the winds. They had
houses to live in; they had honey-tasting things to eat, and when
they went through the island each man might have with him one of
the maidens of Lemnos. It was a change that was welcome to the
wearied voyagers.

They helped the women in the work of the fields; they hunted the
beasts with them, and over and over again they were surprised at
how skillfully the women had ordered all affairs. Everything in
Lemnos was strange to the Argonauts, and they stayed day after
day, thinking each day a fresh adventure.

Sometimes they would leave the fields and the chase, and this
hero or that hero, with her who was his friend amongst the
Lemnian maidens, would go far into that strange land and look
upon lakes that were all covered with golden and silver water
lilies, or would gather the blue flowers from creepers that grew
around dark trees, or would hide themselves so that they might
listen to the quick-moving birds that sang in the thickets.
Perhaps on their way homeward they would see the Argo in the
harbor, and they would think of Heracles who was aboard, and they
would call to him. But the ship and the voyage they had been on
now seemed far away to them, and the Quest of the Golden Fleece
seemed to them a story they had heard and that they had thought
of, but that they could never think on again with all that
fervor.

When Jason looked on Hypsipyle he saw one who seemed to him to be
only childlike in size. Greatly was he amazed at the words that
poured forth from her as she stood at the stone throne of King
Thoas--he was amazed as one is amazed at the rush of rich notes
that comes from the throat of a little bird; all that she said
was made lightninglike by her eyes--her eyes that were not clear
and quiet like the eyes of the maidens he had seen in Iolcus, but
that were dark and burning. Her mouth was heavy and this heavy
mouth gave a shadow to her face that, but for it, was all bright
and lovely.

Hypsipyle spoke two languages--one, the language of the mothers
of the women of Lemnos, which was rough and harsh, a speech to be
flung out to slaves, and the other the language of Greece, which
their fathers had spoken, and which Hypsipyle spoke in a way that
made it sound like strange music. She spoke and walked and did
all things in a queenlike way, and Jason could see that, for all
her youth and childlike size, Hypsipyle was one who was a ruler.

>From the moment she took his hand it seemed that she could not
bear to be away from him. Where he walked, she walked too; where
he sat she sat before him, looking at him with her great eyes
while she laughed or sang.

Like the perfume of strange flowers, like the savor of strange
fruit was Hypsipyle to Jason. Hours and hours he would spend
sitting beside her or watching her while she arrayed herself in
white or in brightly colored garments. Not to the chase and not
into the fields did Jason go, nor did he ever go with the others
into the Lemnian land; all day he sat in the palace with her,
watching her, or listening to her singing, or to the long, fierce
speeches that she used to make to her nurse or to the four
maidens who attended her.

In the evening they would gather in the hall of the palace,
the Argonauts and the Lemnian maidens who were their comrades.
There were dances, and always Jason and Hypsipyle danced
together. All the Lemnian maidens sang beautifully, but none of
them had any stories to tell.

And when the Argonauts would have stories told, the Lemnian
maidens would forbid any tale that was about a god or a hero;
only stories that were about the goddesses or about some maiden
would they let be told.

Orpheus, who knew the histories of the gods, would have told
them many stories, but the only story of his that they would come
from the dance to listen to was a story of the goddesses, of
Demeter and her daughter Persephone.



Demeter And Persephone

I

Once when Demeter was going through the world, giving men
grain to be sown in their fields, she heard a cry that came to
her from across high mountains and that mounted up to her from
the sea. Demeter's heart shook when she heard that cry, for she
knew that it came to her from her daughter, from her only child,
young Persephone.

She stayed not to bless the fields in which the grain was
being sown, but she hurried, hurried away, to Sicily and to the
fields of Enna, where she had left Persephone. All Enna she
searched, and all Sicily, but she found no trace of Persephone,
nor of the maidens whom Persephone had been playing with. From
all whom she met she begged for tidings, but although some had
seen maidens gathering flowers and playing together, no one could
tell Demeter why her child had cried out nor where she had since
gone to.

There were some who could have told her. One was Cyane, a
water nymph. But Cyane, before Demeter came to her, had been
changed into a spring of water. And now, not being able to speak
and tell Demeter where her child had gone to and who had carried
her away, she showed in the water the girdle of Persephone that
she had caught in her hands. And Demeter, finding the girdle of
her child in the spring, knew that she had been carried off by
violence.She lighted a torch at Etna's burning mountain, and for
nine days and nine nights she went searching for her through the
darkened places of the earth.

Then, upon a high and a dark hill, the Goddess Demeter came face
to face with Hecate, the Moon. Hecate, too, had heard the cry of
Persephone; she had sorrow for Demeter's sorrow: she spoke to her
as the two stood upon that dark, high hill, and told her that she
should go to Helios for tidings--to bright Helios, the watcher
for the gods, and beg Helios to tell her who it was who had
carried off by violence her child Persephone.

Demeter came to Helios. He was standing before his shining
steeds, before the impatient steeds that draw the sun through the
course of the heavens. Demeter stood in the way of those
impatient steeds; she begged of Helios who sees all things upon
the earth to tell her who it was had carried off by violence,
Persephone, her child.

And Helios, who may make no concealment, said: "Queenly Demeter,
know that the king of the Underworld, dark Aidoneus, has carried
off Persephone to make her his queen in the realm that I never
shine upon." He spoke, and as he did, his horses shook their
manes and breathed out fire, impatient to be gone. Helios sprang
into his chariot and went flashing away.

Demeter, knowing that one of the gods had carried off Persephone
against her will, and knowing that what was done had been done by
the will of Zeus, would go no more into the assemblies of the
gods. She quenched the torch that she had held in her hands for
nine days and nine nights; she put off her robe of goddess, and
she went wandering over the earth, uncomforted for the loss of
her child. And no longer did she appear as a gracious goddess to
men; no longer did she give them grain; no longer did she bless
their fields. None of the things that it had pleased her once to
do would Demeter do any longer.



II

Persephone had been playing with the nymphs who are the daughters
of Ocean--Phaeno, Ianthe, Melita, Ianeira, Acast--in the
lovely fields of Enna. They went to gather flowers--irises and
crocuses, lilies, narcissus, hyacinths and roseblooms--that grow
in those fields. As they went, gathering flowers in their
baskets, they had sight of Pergus, the pool that the white swans
come to sing in.

Beside a deep chasm that had been made in the earth a wonder
flower was growing--in color it was like the crocus, but it sent
forth a perfume that was like the perfume of a hundred flowers.
And Persephone thought as she went toward it that having gathered
that flower she would have something much more wonderful than her
companions had.

She did not know that Aidoneus, the lord of the Underworld, had
caused that flower to grow there so that she might be drawn by it
to the chasm that he had made.

As Persephone stooped to pluck the wonder flower, Aidoneus,
in his chariot of iron, dashed up through the chasm, and grasping
the maiden by the waist, set her beside him. Only Cyane, the
nymph, tried to save Persephone, and it was then that she caught
the girdle in her hands.

The maiden cried out, first because her flowers had been
spilled, and then because she was being reft away. She cried out
to her mother, and her cry went over high mountains and sounded
up from the sea. The daughters of Ocean, affrighted, fled and
sank down into the depths of the sea.

In his great chariot of iron that was drawn by black steeds
Aidoneus rushed down through the chasm he had made. Into the
Underworld he went, and he dashed across the River Styx, and he
brought his chariot up beside his throne. And on his dark throne
he seated Persephone, the fainting daughter of Demeter.



III

No more did the Goddess Demeter give grain to men; no more
did she bless their fields: weeds grew where grain had been
growing, and men feared that in a while they would famish for
lack of bread.

She wandered through the world, her thought all upon her
child, Persephone, who had been taken from her. Once she sat by a
well by a wayside, thinking upon the child that she might not
come to and who might not come to her.

She saw four maidens come near; their grace and their youth
reminded her of her child. They stepped lightly along, carrying
bronze pitchers in their hands, for they were coming to the Well
of the Maiden beside which Demeter sat.

The maidens thought when they looked upon her that the goddess
was some ancient woman who had a sorrow in her heart. Seeing that
she was so noble and so sorrowful-looking, the maidens, as they
drew the clear water into their pitchers, spoke kindly to her.

"Why do you stay away from the town, old mother?" one of the
maidens said. "Why do you not come to the houses? We think that
you look as if you were shelterless and alone, and we should like
to tell you that there are many houses in the town where you
would be welcomed."

Demeter's heart went out to the maidens, because they looked so
young and fair and simple and spoke out of such kind hearts. She
said to them: "Where can I go, dear children? My people are far
away, and there are none in all the world who would care to be
near me."

Said one of the maidens: "There are princes in the land who would
welcome you in their houses if you would consent to nurse one of
their young children. But why do I speak of other princes beside
Celeus, our father? In his house you would indeed have a welcome.
But lately a baby has been born to our mother, Metaneira, and she
would greatly rejoice to have one as wise as you mind little
Demophoon."

All the time that she watched them and listened to their voices
Demeter felt that the grace and youth of the maidens made them
like Persephone. She thought that it would ease her heart to be
in the house where these maidens were, and she was not loath to
have them go and ask of their mother to have her come to nurse
the infant child.

Swiftly they ran back to their home, their hair streaming behind
them like crocus flowers; kind and lovely girls whose names are
well remembered--Callidice and Cleisidice, Demo and Callithoe.
They went to their mother and they told her of the stranger-woman
whose name was Doso. She would make a wise and a kind nurse for
little Demophoon, they said. Their mother, Metaneira, rose up
from the couch she was sitting on to welcome the stranger. But
when she saw her at the doorway, awe came over her, so majestic
she seemed.

Metaneira would have her seat herself on the couch but the
goddess took the lowliest stool, saying in greeting: "May the
gods give you all good, lady."

"Sorrow has set you wandering from your good home," said
Metaneira to the goddess, "but now that you have come to this
place you shall have all that this house can bestow if you will
rear up to youth the infant Demophoon, child of many hopes and
prayers."

The child was put into the arms of Demeter; she clasped him to
her breast, and little Demophoon looked up into her face and
smiled. Then Demeter's heart went out to the child and to all who
were in the household.

He grew in strength and beauty in her charge. And little
Demophoon was not nourished as other children are nourished, but
even as the gods in their childhood were nourished. Demeter fed
him on ambrosia, breathing on him with her divine breath the
while. And at night she laid him on the hearth, amongst the
embers, with the fire all around him. This she did that she might
make him immortal, and like to the gods.

But one night Metaneira looked out from the chamber where she
lay, and she saw the nurse take little Demophoön and lay him in a
place on the hearth with the burning brands all around him. Then
Metaneira started up, and she sprang to the hearth, and she
snatched the child from beside the burning brands. "Demophoön, my
son," she cried, "what would this strangerwoman do to you,
bringing bitter grief to me that ever I let her take you in her
arms?"

Then said Demeter: "Foolish indeed are you mortals, and not able
to foresee what is to come to you of good or of evil,"

"Foolish indeed are you, Metaneira, for in your heedlessness you
have cut off this child from an immortality like to the
immortality of the gods themselves. For he had lain in my bosom
and had become dear to me and I would have bestowed upon him the
greatest gift that the Divine Ones can bestow, for I would have
made him deathless and unaging. All this, now, has gone by. Honor
he shall have indeed, but Demophoon will know age and death."

The seeming old age that was upon her had fallen from
Demeter; beauty and stature were hers, and from her robe there
came a heavenly fragrance. There came such light from her body
that the chamber shone. Metaneira remained trembling and
speechless, unmindful even to take up the child that had been
laid upon the ground.

It was then that his sisters heard Demophoon wail; one ran from
her chamber and took the child in her arms; another kindled again
the fire upon the hearth, and the others made ready to bathe and
care for the infant. All night they cared for him, holding him in
their arms and at their breasts, but the child would not be
comforted, becauses the nurses who handled him now were less
skillful than was the goddess-nurse.

And as for Demeter, she left the house of Celeus and went upon
her way, lonely in her heart, and unappeased. And in the world
that she wandered through, the plow went in vain through the
ground; the furrow was sown without any avail, and the race of
men saw themselves near perishing for lack of bread.

But again Demeter came near the Well of the Maiden. She thought
of the daughters of Celeus as they came toward the well that day,
the bronze pitchers in their hands, and with kind looks for the
stranger--she thought of them as she sat by the well again. And
then she thought of little Demophoon, the child she had held at
her breast. No stir of living was in the land near their home,
and only weeds grew in their fields. As she sat there and looked
around her there came into Demeter's heart a pity for the people
in whose house she had dwelt.

She rose up and she went to the house of Celeus. She found him
beside his house measuring out a little grain. The goddess went
to him and she told him that because of the love she bore his
household she would bless his fields so that the seed he had sown
in them would come to growth. Celeus rejoiced, and he called all
the people together, and they raised a temple to Demeter. She
went through the fields and blessed them, and the seed that they
had sown began to grow. And the goddess for a while dwelt amongst
that people, in her temple at Eleusis.



IV

But still she kept away from the assemblies of the gods. Zeus
sent a messenger to her, Iris with the golden wings, bidding her
to Olympus. Demeter would not join the Olympians. Then, one after
the other, the gods and goddesses of Olympus came to her; none
were able to make her cease from grieving for Persephone, or to
go again into the company of the immortal gods.

And so it came about that Zeus was compelled to send a messenger
down to the Underworld to bring Persephone back to the mother who
grieved so much for the loss of her. Hermes was the messenger
whom Zeus sent. Through the darkened places of the earth Hermes
went, and he came to that dark throne where the lord Aidoneus
sat, with Persephone beside him. Then Hermes spoke to the lord of
the Underworld, saying that Zeus commanded that Persephone should
come forth from the Underworld that her mother might look upon
her.

Then Persephone, hearing the words of Zeus that might not be
gainsaid, uttered the only cry that had left her lips since she
had sent out that cry that had reached her mother's heart. And
Aidoneus, hearing the command of Zeus that might not be denied,
bowed his dark, majestic head.

She might go to the Upperworld and rest herself in the arms of
her mother, he said. And then he cried out: "Ah, Persephone,
strive to feel kindliness in your heart toward me who carried you
off by violence and against your will. I can give to you one of
the great kingdoms that the Olympians rule over. And I, who am
brother to Zeus, am no unfitting husband for you, Demeter's
child."

So Aidoneus, the dark lord of the Underworld said, and he made
ready the iron chariot with its deathless horses that Persephone
might go up from his kingdom.

Beside the single tree in his domain Aidoneus stayed the chariot.
A single fruit grew on that tree, a bright pomegranate fruit.
Persephone stood up in the chariot and plucked the fruit from the
tree. Then did Aidoneus prevail upon her to divide the fruit,
and, having divided it, Persephone ate seven of the pomegranate
seeds.

It was Hermes who took the whip and the reins of the chariot. He
drove on, and neither the sea nor the water-courses, nor the
glens nor the mountain peaks stayed the deathless horses of
Aidoneus, and soon the chariot was brought near to where Demeter
awaited the coming of her daughter.

And when, from a hilltop, Demeter saw the chariot approaching,
she flew like a wild bird to clasp her child. Persephone, when
she saw her mother's dear eyes, sprang out of the chariot and
fell upon her neck and embraced her. Long and long Demeter held
her dear child in her arms, gazing, gazing upon her. Suddenly her
mind misgave her. With a great fear at her heart she cried out:
"Dearest, has any food passed your lips in all the time you have
been in the Underworld?"

She had not tasted food in all the time she was there, Persephone
said. And then, suddenly, she remembered the pomegranate that
Aidoneus had asked her to divide. When she told that she had
eaten seven seeds from it Demeter wept, and her tears fell upon
Persephone's face.

"Ah, my dearest," she cried, "if you had not eaten the
pomegranate seeds you could have stayed with me, and always we
should have been together. But now that you have eaten food in
it, the Underworld has a claim upon you. You may not stay always
with me here. Again you will have to go back and dwell in the
dark places under the earth and sit upon Aidoneus's throne. But
not always you will be there. When the flowers bloom upon the
earth you shall come up from the realm of darkness, and in great
joy we shall go through the world together, Demeter and
Persephone."

And so it has been since Persephone came back to her mother
after having eaten of the pomegranate seeds. For two seasons of
the year she stays with Demeter, and for one season she stays in
the Underworld with her dark lord. While she is with her mother
there is springtime upon the earth. Demeter blesses the furrows,
her heart being glad because her daughter is with her once more.
The furrows become heavy with grain, and soon the whole wide
earth has grain and fruit, leaves and flowers. When the furrows
are reaped, when the grain has been gathered, when the dark
season comes, Persephone goes from her mother, and going down
into the dark places, she sits beside her mighty lord Aidoneus
and upon his throne. Not sorrowful is she there; she sits with
head unbowed, for she knows herself to be a mighty queen. She has
joy, too, knowing of the seasons when she may walk with Demeter,
her mother, on the wide places of the earth, through fields of
flowers and fruit and ripening grain.

Such was the story that Orpheus told--Orpheus who knew the
histories of the gods.

A day came when the heroes, on their way back from a journey they
had made with the Lemnian maidens, called out to Heracles upon
the Argo. Then Heracles, standing on the prow of the ship,
shouted angrily to them. Terrible did he seem to the Lemnian
maidens, and they ran off, drawing the heroes with them. Heracles
shouted to his comrades again, saying that if they did not come
aboard the Argo and make ready for the voyage to Colchis,
he would go ashore and carry them to the ship, and force them
again to take the oars in their hands.

Not all of what Heracles said did the Argonauts hear.

That evening the men were silent in Hypsipyle's hall, and it was
Atalanta, the maiden, who told the evening's story.



Atalanta's Race

There are two Atalantas, she said; she herself, the Huntress, and
another who is noted for her speed of foot and her delight in the
race--the daughter of Schceneus, King of Boeotia, Atalanta of
the Swift Foot.

So proud was she of her swiftness that she made a vow to the gods
that none would be her husband except the youth who won past her
in the race. Youth after youth came and raced against her, but
Atalanta, who grew fleeter and fleeter of foot, left each one of
them far behind her. The youths who came to the race were so many
and the clamor they made after defeat was so great, that her
father made a law that, as he thought, would lessen their number.
The law that he made was that the youth who came to race against
Atalanta and who lost the race should lose his life into the
bargain. After that the youths who had care for their lives
stayed away from Boeotia.

Once there came a youth from a far part of Greece into the
country that Atalanta's father ruled over. Hippomenes was his
name. He did not know of the race, but having come into
the city and seeing the crowd of people, he went with them to the
course. He looked upon the youths who were girded for the race,
and he heard the folk say amongst themselves, "Poor youths, as
mighty and as highspirited as they look, by sunset the life will
be out of each of them, for Atalanta will run past them as she
ran past the others." Then Hippomenes spoke to the folk in
wonder, and they told him of Atalanta's race and of what would
befall the youths who were defeated in it. "Unlucky youths,"
cried Hippomenes, "how foolish they are to try to win a bride at
the price of their lives."

Then, with pity in his heart, he watched the youths prepare for
the race. Atalanta had not yet taken her place, and he was
fearful of looking upon her. "She is a witch," he said to
himself, "she must be a witch to draw so many youths to their
deaths, and she, no doubt, will show in her face and figure the
witch's spirit."

But even as he said this, Hippomenes saw Atalanta. She stood with
the youths before they crouched for the first dart in the race.
He saw that she was a girl of a light and a lovely form. Then
they crouched for the race; then the trumpets rang out, and the
youths and the maiden darted like swallows over the sand of the
course.

On came Atalanta, far, far ahead of the youths who had started
with her. Over her bare shoulders her hair streamed, blown
backward by the wind that met her flight. Her fair neck shone,
and her little feet were like flying doves. It seemed to
Hippomenes as he watched her that there was fire in her lovely
body. On and on she went as swift as the arrow that the Scythian
shoots from his bow. And as he watched the race he was not sorry
that the youths were being left behind. Rather would he have been
enraged if one came near overtaking her, for now his heart was
set upon winning her for his bride, and he cursed himself for not
having entered the race.

She passed the last goal mark and she was given the victor's
wreath of flowers. Hippomenes stood and watched her and he did
not see the youths who had started with her--they had thrown
themselves on the ground in their despair.

Then wild, as though he were one of the doomed youths, Hippomenes
made his way through the throng and came before the black-bearded
King of Boeotia. The king's brows were knit, for even then he was
pronouncing doom upon the youths who had been left behind in the
race. He looked upon Hippomenes, another youth who would make the
trial, and the frown became heavier upon his face.

But Hippomenes saw only Atalanta. She came beside her father; the
wreath was upon her head of gold, and her eyes were wide and
tender. She turned her face to him, and then she knew by the
wildness that was in his look that he had come to enter the race
with her. Then the flush that was on her face died away, and she
shook her head as if she were imploring him to go from that
place.

The dark-bearded king bent his brows upon him and said, "Speak, 0
youth, speak and tell us what brings you here."

Then cried Hippomenes as if his whole life were bursting out with
his words: "Why does this maiden, your daughter, seek an easy
renown by conquering weakly youths in the race? She has not
striven yet. Here stand I, one of the blood of Poseidon, the god
of the sea. Should I be defeated by her in the race, then,
indeed, might Atalanta have something to boast of."

Atalanta stepped forward and said: "Do not speak of it, youth.
Indeed I think that it is some god, envious of your beauty and
your strength, who sent you here to strive with me and to meet
your doom. Ah, think of the youths who have striven with me even
now! Think of the hard doom that is about to fall upon them! You
venture your life in the race, but indeed I am not worthy of the
price. Go hence, O stranger youth, go hence and live happily, for
indeed I think that there is some maiden who loves you well."

"Nay, maiden," said Hippomenes, "I will enter the race and I will
venture my life on the chance of winning you for my bride. What
good will my life and my spirit be to me if they cannot win this
race for me?"

She drew away from him then and looked upon him no more, but bent
down to fasten the sandals upon her feet. And the black-bearded
king looked upon Hippomenes and said, "Face, then, this race
to-morrow. You will be the only one who will enter it. But
bethink thee of the doom that awaits thee at the end of it." The
king said no more, and Hippomenes went from him and from
Atalanta, and he came again to the place where the race had been
run.

He looked across the sandy course with its goal marks, and in his
mind he saw again Atalanta's swift race. He would not meet doom
at the hands of the king's soldiers, he knew, for his spirit
would leave him with the greatness of the effort he would make to
reach the goal before her. And he thought it would be well to die
in that effort and on that sandy place that was so far from his
own land.

Even as he looked across the sandy course now deserted by the
throng, he saw one move across it, coming toward him with feet
that did not seem to touch the ground. She was a woman of
wonderful presence. As Hippomenes looked upon her he knew that
she was Aphrodite, the goddess of beauty and of love.

"Hippomenes," said the immortal goddess, "the gods are mindful of
you who are sprung from one of the gods, and I am mindful of you
because of your own worth. I have come to help you in your race
with Atalanta, for I would not have you slain, nor would I have
that maiden go unwed. Give your greatest strength and your
greatest swiftness to the race, and behold! here are wonders that
will prevent the fleet-footed Atalanta from putting all her
spirit into the race."

And then the immortal goddess held out to Hippomenes a branch
that had upon it three apples of shining gold.

"In Cyprus," said the goddess, "where I have come from, there is
a tree on which these golden apples grow. Only I may pluck them.
I have brought them to you, Hippomenes. Keep them in your girdle,
and in the race you will find out what to do with them, I think."

So Aphrodite said, and then she vanished, leaving a fragrance in
the air and the three shining apples in the hands of Hippomenes.
Long he looked upon their brightness. They were beside him that
night, and when he arose in the dawn he put them in his girdle.
Then, before the throng, he went to the place of the race.

When he showed himself beside Atalanta, all around the course
were silent, for they all admired Hippomenes for his beauty and
for the spirit that was in his face; they were silent out of
compassion, for they knew the doom that befell the youths who
raced with Atalanta.

And now Schoeneus, the black-bearded king, stood up, and he spoke
to the throng, saying, "Hear me all, both young and old: this
youth, Hippomenes, seeks to win the race from my daughter,
winning her for his bride. Now, if he be victorious and escape
death I will give him my dear child, Atalanta, and many fleet
horses besides as gifts from me, and in honor he shall go back to
his native land. But if he fail in the race, then he will have to
share the doom that has been meted out to the other youths who
raced with Atalanta hoping to win her for a bride."

Then Hippomenes and Atalanta crouched for the start. The trumpets
were sounded and they darted off.

Side by side with Atalanta, Hippomenes went. Her flying hair
touched his breast, and it seemed to him that they were skimming
the sandy course as if they were swallows. But then Atalanta
began to draw away from him. He saw her ahead of him, and then he
began to hear the words of cheer that came from the throng
"Bend to the race, Hippomenes! Go on, go on! Use your strength to
the utmost." He bent himself to the race, but further and further
from him Atalanta drew.

Then it seemed to him that she checked her swiftness a little to
look back at him. He gained on her a little. And then his hand
touched the apples that were in his girdle. As it touched them it
came into his mind what to do with the apples.

He was not far from her now, but already her swiftness was
drawing her further and further away. He took one of the apples
into his hand and tossed it into the air so that it fell on the
track before her.

Atalanta saw the shining apple. She checked her speed and stooped
in the race to pick it up. And as she stooped Hippomenes darted
past her, and went flying toward the goal that now was within his
sight.

But soon she was beside him again. He looked, and he saw that the
goal marks were far, far ahead of him. Atalanta with the flying
hair passed him, and drew away and away from him. He had not
speed to gain upon her now, he thought, so he put his strength
into his hand and he flung the second of the shining apples. The
apple rolled before her and rolled off the course. Atalanta
turned off the course, stooped and picked up the apple.

Then did Hippomenes draw all his spirit into his breast as he
raced on. He was now nearer to the goal than she was. But he knew
that she was behind him, going lightly where he went heavily. And
then she was beside him, and then she went past him. She paused
in her speed for a moment and she looked back on him.

As he raced on, his chest seemed weighted down and his throat was
crackling dry. The goal marks were far away still, but Atalanta
was nearing them. He took the last of the golden apples into his
hand. Perhaps she was now so far that the strength of his throw
would not be great enough to bring the apple before her.

But with all the strength he could put into his hand he flung the
apple. It struck the course before her feet and then went
bounding wide. Atalanta swerved in her race and followed where
the apple went. Hippomenes marvelled that he had been able to
fling it so far. He saw Atalanta stoop to pick up the apple, and
he bounded on. And then, although his strength was failing, he
saw the goal marks near him. He set his feet between them and
then fell down on the ground.

The attendants raised him up and put the victor's wreath upon his
head. The concourse of people shouted with joy to see him victor.
But he looked around for Atalanta and he saw her standing there
with the golden apples in her hands. "He has won," he heard her
say, "and I have not to hate myself for bringing a doom upon him.
Gladly, gladly do I give up the race, and glad am I that it is
this youth who has won the victory from me."

She took his hand and brought him before the king. Then
Schoeneus, in the sight of all the rejoicing people, gave
Atalanta to Hippomenes for his bride, and he bestowed upon him
also a great gift of horses. With his dear and hard-won bride,
Hippomenes went to his own country, and the apples that she
brought with her, the golden apples of Aphrodite, were reverenced
by the people.



X. The Departure From Lemnos

A day came when Heracles left the Argo and went on the Lemnian
land. He gathered the heroes about him, and they, seeing Heracles
come amongst them, clamored to go to hunt the wild bulls that
were inland from the sea.

So, for once, the heroes left the Lemnian maidens who were their
friends. Jason, too, left Hypsipyle in the palace and went with
Heracles. And as they went, Heracles spoke to each of the heroes,
saying that they were forgetting the Fleece of Gold that they had
sailed to gain.

Jason blushed to think that he had almost let go out of his mind
the quest that had brought him from Iolcus. And then he thought
upon Hypsipyle and of how her little hand would stay in his, and
his own hand became loose upon the spear so that it nearly fell
from him. How could he, he thought, leave Hypsipyle and this land
of Lemnos behind?

He heard the clear voice of Atalanta as she, too, spoke to the
Argonauts. What Heracles said was brave and wise, said Atalanta.
Forgetfulness would cover their names if they stayed longer in
Lemnos--forgetfulness and shame, and they would come to despise
themselves. Leave Lemnos, she cried, and draw Argo into the sea,
and depart for Colchis.

All day the Argonauts stayed by themselves, hunting the bulls. On
their way back from the chase they were met by Lemnian maidens
who carried wreaths of flowers for them. Very silent were the
heroes as the maidens greeted them. Heracles went with Jason to
the palace, and Hypsipyle, seeing the mighty stranger coming,
seated herself, not on the couch where she was wont to sit
looking into the face of Jason, but on the stone throne of King
Thoas, her father. And seated on that throne she spoke to Jason
and to Heracles as a queen might speak.

In the hall that night the heroes and the Lemnian maidens who
were with them were quiet. A story was told; Castor began it and
Polydeuces ended it. And the story that Helen's brothers told
was:



The Golden Maid

Epimetheus the Titan had a brother who was the wisest of all
Beings--Prometheus called the Foreseer. But Epimetheus himself
was slow-witted and scatter-brained. His wise brother once sent
him a message bidding him beware of the gifts that Zeus might
send him. Epimetheus heard, but he did not heed the warning, and
thereby he brought upon the race of men troubles and cares.

Prometheus, the wise Titan, had saved men from a great trouble
that Zeus would have brought upon them. Also he had given them
the gift of fire. Zeus was the more wroth with men now because
fire, stolen from him, had been given them; he was wroth with the
race of Titans, too, and he pondered in his heart how he might
injure men, and how he might use Epimetheus, the mindless Titan,
to further his plan.

While he pondered there was a hush on high Olympus, the mountain
of the gods. Then Zeus called upon the artisan of the gods, lame
Hephaestus, and he commanded him to make a being out of clay that
would have the likeness of a lovely maiden. With joy and pride
Hephaestus worked at the task that had been given him, and he
fashioned a being that had the likeness of a lovely maiden, and
he brought the thing of his making before the gods and the
goddesses.

All strove to add a grace or a beauty to the work of Hephaestus.
Zeus granted that the maiden should see and feel. Athene dressed
her in garments that were as lovely as flowers. Aphrodite, the
goddess of love, put a charm on her lips and in her eyes.
The Graces put necklaces around her neck and set agolden crown
upon her head. The Hours brought her a girdle of spring flowers.
Then the herald of the gods gave her speech thatwas sweet and
flowing. All the gods and goddesses had given giftsto her, and
for that reason the maiden of Hephaestus's making was called
Pandora, the All-endowed.

She was lovely, the gods knew; not beautiful as they themselves
are, who have a beauty that awakens reverence rather than love,
but lovely, as flowers and bright waters and earthly maidens are
lovely. Zeus smiled to himself when he looked upon her, and he
called to Hermes who knew all the ways of the earth, and he put
her into the charge of Hermes. Also he gave Hermes a great jar to
take along; this jar was Pandora's dower.

Epimetheus lived in a deep-down valley. Now one day, as he was
sitting on a fallen pillar in the ruined place that was now
forsaken by the rest of the Titans, he saw a pair coming toward
him. One had wings, and he knew him to be Hermes, the messenger
of the gods. The other was a maiden. Epimetheus marveled at the
crown upon her head and at her lovely garments. There was a glint
of gold all around her. He rose from where he sat upon the broken
pillar and he stood to watch the pair. Hermes, he saw, was
carrying by its handle a great jar.

In wonder and delight he looked upon the maiden. Epimetheus
had seen no lovely thing for ages. Wonderful indeed was this
Golden Maid, and as she came nearer the charm that was on her
lips and in her eyes came to the Earth-born One, and he smiled
with more and more delight.

Hermes came and stood before him. He also smiled, but his
smile had something baleful in it. He put the hands of the Golden
Maid into the great soft hand of the Titan, and he said, "0
Epimetheus, Father Zeus would be reconciled with thee, and as a
sign of his good will he sends thee this lovely goddess to be thy
companion."

Oh, very foolish was Epimetheus the Earth-born One! As he
looked upon the Golden Maid who was sent by Zeus he lost memory
of the wars that Zeus had made upon the Titans and the Elder
Gods; he lost memory of his brother chained by Zeus to the rock;
he lost memory of the warning that his brother, the wisest of all
beings, had sent him. He took the hands of Pandora, and he
thought of nothing at all in all the world but her. Very far away
seemed the voice of Hermes saying, "This jar, too, is from
Olympus; it has in it Pandora's dower."

The jar stood forgotten for long, and green plants grew over
it while Epimetheus walked in the garden with the Golden Maid, or
watched her while she gazed on herself in the stream, or searched
in the untended places for the fruits that the Elder Gods would
eat, when they feasted with the Titans in the old days, before
Zeus had come to his power. And lost to Epimetheus was the memory
of his brother now suffering upon the rock because of the gift
he had given to men.

And Pandora, knowing nothing except the brightness of the
sunshine and the lovely shapes and colors of things and the sweet
taste of the fruits that Epimetheus brought to her, could have
stayed forever in that garden.

But every day Epimetheus would think that the men and women
of the world should be able to talk to him about this maiden with
the wonderful radiance of gold, and with the lovely garments, and
the marvelous crown. And one day he took Pandora by the hand, and
he brought her out of that deep-lying valley, and toward the
homes of men. He did not forget the jar that Hermes had left with
her. All things that belonged to the Golden Maid were precious,
and Epimetheus took the jar along.

The race of men at the time were simple and content. Their
days were passed in toil, but now, since Prometheus had given
them fire, they had good fruits of their toil. They had
well-shaped tools to dig the earth and to build houses. Their
homes were warmed with fire, and fire burned upon the altars that
were upon their ways.

Greatly they reverenced Prometheus, who had given them fire,
and greatly they reverenced the race of the Titans. So when
Epimetheus came amongst them, tall as a man walking with stilts,
they welcomed him and brought him and the Golden Maid to their
hearths. And Epimetheus showed Pandora the wonderful element that
his brother had given to men, and she rejoiced to see the fire,
clapping her hands with delight. The jar that Epimetheus brought
he left in an open place.

In carrying it up the rough ways out of the valley Epimetheus may
have knocked the jar about, for the lid that had been tight upon
it now fitted very loosely. But no one gave heed to the jar as it
stood in the open space where Epimetheus had left it.

At first the men and women looked upon the beauty ofPandora, upon
her lovely dresses, and her golden crown and her girdle of
flowers, with wonder and delight. Epimetheus would have every one
admire and praise her. The men would leave off working in the
fields, or hammering on iron, or building houses, and the women
would leave off spinning or weaving, and come at his call, and
stand about and admire the Golden Maid. But as time went by a
change came upon the women: one woman would weep, and another
would look angry, and a third would go back sullenly to her work
when Pandora was admired or praised.

Once the women were gathered together, and one who was the
wisest amongst them said: "Once we did not think about ourselves,
and we were content. But now we think about ourselves, and we say
to ourselves that we are harsh and ill-favored indeed compared to
the Golden Maid that the Titan is so enchanted with. And we hate
to see our own men praise and admire her, and often, in our
hearts, we would destroy her if we could."

"That is true," the women said. And then a young woman cried
out in a most yearnful voice, "O tell us, you who are wise, how
can we make ourselves as beautiful as Pandora!"

Then said that woman who was thought to be wise, "This Golden
Maid is Lovely to look upon because she has lovely apparel and
all the means of keeping herself lovely. The gods have given her
the ways, and, so her skin remains fair, and her hair keeps its
gold, and her lips are ever red and her eyes shining. And I think
that the means that she has of keeping lovely are all in that jar
that Epimetheus brought with her."

When the woman who was thought to be wise said this, those around
her were silent for a while. But then one arose and another
arose, and they stood and whispered together, one saying to the
other that they should go to the place where the jar had been
left by Epimetheus, and that they should take out of it the
salves and the charms and the washes that would leave them as
beautiful as Pandora.

So the women went to that place. On their way they stopped at a
pool and they bent over to see themselves mirrored in it, and
they saw themselves  with dusty and unkempt hair, with large and
knotted hands, with troubled eyes, and with anxious mouths.

They frowned as they looked upon their images, and they said in
harsh voices that in a while they would have ways of making
themselves as lovely as the Golden Maid.

And as they went on they saw Pandora. She was playing in a
flowering field, while Epimetheus, high as a man upon stilts,
went gathering the blossoms of the bushes for her. They went on,
and they came at last to the place where Epimetheus had left the
jar that held Pandora's dower.

A great stone jar it was; there was no bird, nor flower, nor
branch painted upon it. It stood high as a woman's shoulder. And
as the women looked on it they thought that there were things
enough in it to keep them beautiful for all the days of their
lives. But each one thought that she should not be the last to
get her hands into it.

Once the lid had been fixed tightly down on the jar. But the lid
was shifted a little now. As the hands of the women grasped it to
take off the lid the jar was cast down, and the things that were
inside spilled themselves forth.

They were black and gray and red; they were crawling and flying
things. And, as the women looked, the things spread themselves
abroad or fastened themselves upon them.

The jar, like Pandora herself, had been made and filled out of
the ill will of Zeus. And it had been filled, not with salves and
charms and washes, as the women had thought, but with Cares and
Troubles. Before the women came to it one Trouble had already
come forth from the jar--Self-thought that was upon the top of
the heap. It was Self-thought that had afflicted the women,
making them troubled about their own looks, and envious of the
graces of the Golden Maid.

And now the others spread themselves out--Sickness and War and
Strife between friends. They spread themselves abroad and entered
the houses, while Epimetheus, the mindless Titan, gathered
flowers for Pandora, the Golden Maid.

Lest she should weary of her play he called to her. He would take
her into the houses of men. As they drew near to the houses they
saw a woman seated on the ground, weeping; her husband had
suddenly become hard to her and had shut the door on her face.

They came upon a child crying because of a pain that he could not
understand. And then they found two men struggling, their strife
being on account of a possession that they had both held
peaceably before.

In every house they went to Epimetheus would say, "I am the
brother of Prometheus, who gave you the gift of fire." But
instead of giving them a welcome the men would say, "We know
nothing about your relation to Prometheus. We see you as a
foolish man upon stilts."

Epimetheus was troubled by the hard looks and the cold words of
the men who once had reverenced him. He turned from the houses
and went away. In a quiet place he sat down, and for a while he
lost sight of Pandora. And then it seemed to him that he heard
the voice of his wise and suffering brother saying, "Do not
accept any gift that Zeus may send you."

He rose up and he hurried away from that place, leaving Pandora
playing by herself. There came into his scattered mind Regret and
Fear. As he went on he stumbled. He fell from the edge of a
cliff, and the sea washed away the body of the mindless brother
of Prometheus.

Not everything had been spilled out of the jar that had been
brought with Pandora into the world of men. A beautiful, living
thing was in that jar also. This was Hope. And this beautiful,
living thing had got caught under the rim of the jar and had not
come forth with the others. One day a weeping woman found Hope
under the rim of Pandora's jar and brought this living thing into
the house of men. And now because of Hope they could see an end
to their troubles. And the men and women roused themselves in the
midst of their afflictions and they looked toward gladness. Hope,
that had been caught under the rim of the jar, stayed behind the
thresholds of their houses.

As for Pandora, the Golden Maid, she played on, knowing only the
brightness of the sunshine and the lovely shapes of things.
Beautiful would she have seemed to any being who saw her, but now
she had strayed away from the houses of men and Epimetheus was
not there to look upon her. Then Hephaestus, the lame artisan of
the gods, left down his tools and went to seek her. He found
Pandora, and he took her back to Olympus. And in his brazen house
she stays, though sometimes at the will of Zeus she goes down
into the world of men.

When Polydeuces had ended the story that Castor had begun,
Heracles cried out: "For the Argonauts, too, there has been
a Golden Maid--nay, not one, but a Golden Maid for each. Out of
the jar that has been with her ye have taken forgetfulness of
your honor. As for me, I go back to the Argo lest one of these
Golden Maids should hold me back from the labors that make great
a man."

So Heracles said, and he went from Hypsipyle's hall. The heroes
looked at each other, and they stood up, and shame that they had
stayed so long away from the quest came over each of them. The
maidens took their hands; the heroes unloosed those soft hands
and turned away from them.

Hypsipyle left the throne of King Thoas and stood before Jason.
There was a storm in all her body; her mouth was shaken, and a
whole life's trouble was in her great eyes. Before she spoke
Jason cried out: "What Heracles said is true, 0 Argonauts! On the
Quest of the Golden Fleece our lives and our honors depend. To
Colchis--to Colchis must we go!"

He stood upright in the hall, and his comrades gathered around
him. The Lemnian maidens would have held out their arms and
would have made their partings long delayed, but that a strange
cry came to them through the night. Well did the Argonauts know
that cry--it was the cry of the ship, of Argo herself. They knew
that they must go to her now or stay from the voyage for ever.
And the maidens knew that there was something in the cry of the
ship that might not be gainsaid, and they put their hands before
their faces, and they said no other word.

Then said Hypsipyle, the queen, "I, too, am a ruler, Jason, and I
know that there are great commands that we have to obey. Go,
then, to the Argo. Ah, neither I nor the women of Lemnos will
stay your going now. But to-morrow speak to us from the deck of
the ship and bid us farewell. Do not go from us in the night,
Jason."

Jason and the Argonauts went from Hypsipyle's hall. The maidens
who were left behind wept together. All but Hypsipyle. She sat on
the throne of King Thoas and she had Polyxo, her nurse, tell her
of the ways of Jason's voyage as he had told of them, and of all
that he would have to pass through. When the other Lemnian women
slept she put her head upon her nurse's, knees and wept; bitterly
Hypsipyle wept, but softly, for she would not have the others
hear her weeping.

By the coming of the morning's light the Argonauts had made
all ready for their sailing. They were standing on the deck when
the light came, and they saw the Lemnian women come to the shore.
Each looked at her friend aboard the Argo, and spoke, and went
away. And last, Hypsipyle, the queen, came. "Farewell,
Hypsipyle," Jason said to her, and she, in her strange way of
speaking, said:

"What you told us I have remembered--how you will come to the
dangerous passage that leads into the Sea of Pontus, and how by
the flight of a pigeon you will know whether or not you may go
that way. 0 Jason, let the dove you fly when you come to that
dangerous place be Hypsipyle's."

She showed a pigeon held in her hands. She loosed it, and the
pigeon alighted on the ship, and stayed there on pink feet, a
white-feathered pigeon. Jason took up the pigeon and held it in
his hands, and the Argo drew swiftly away from the Lemnian land.



XI. The Passage Of The Symplegades

They came near Salmydessus, where Phineus, the wise king, ruled,
and they sailed past it; they sighted the pile of stones, with
the oar upright upon it that they had raised on the seashore over
the body of Tiphys, the skillful steersman whom they had lost;
they sailed on until they heard a sound that grew more and more
thunderous, and then the heroes said to each other, "Now we come
to the Symplegades and the dread passage into the Sea of Pontus."

It was then that Jason cried out: "Ah, when Pelias spoke of this
quest to me, why did I not turn my head away and refuse to be
drawn into it? Since we came near the dread passage that is
before us I have passed every night in groans. As for you who
have come with me, you may take your ease, for you need care only
for your own lives. But I have to care for you all, and to strive
to win for you all a safe return to Greece. Ah, greatly am I
afflicted now, knowing to what a great peril I have brought you!"

So Jason said, thinking to make trial of the heroes. They, on
their part, were not dismayed, but shouted back cheerful words to
him. Then he said: "O friends of mine, by your spirit my spirit
is quickened. Now if I knew that I was being borne down into the
black gulfs of Hades, I should fear nothing, knowing that you are
constant and faithful of heart."

As he said this they came into water that seethed all around the
ship. Then into the hands of Euphemus, a youth of Iolcus, who was
the keenest-eyed amongst the Argonauts, Jason put the pigeon that
Hypsipyle had given him. He bade him stand by the prow of the
Argo, ready to loose the pigeon as the ship came nigh that
dreadful gate of rock.

They saw the spray being dashed around in showers; they saw the
sea spread itself out in foam; they saw the high, black rocks
rush together, sounding thunderously as they met. The caves in
the high rocks rumbled as the sea surged into them, and the foam
of the dashing waves spurted high up the rocks.

Jason shouted to each man to grip hard on the oars. The Argo
dashed on as the rocks rushed toward each other again. Then there
was such noise that no man's voice could be heard above it.

As the rocks met, Euphemus loosed the pigeon. With his
keen eyes he watched her fly through the spray. Would she, not
finding an opening to fly through, turn back? He watched, and
meanwhile the Argonauts gripped hard on the oars to save the ship
from being dashed on the rocks. The pigeon fluttered as though
she would sink down and let the spray drown her. And then
Euphemus saw her raise herself and fly forward. Toward the place
where she had flown he pointed. The rowers gave a loud cry, and
Jason called upon them to pull with might and main.

The rocks were parting asunder, and to the right and left broad
Pontus was seen by the heroes. Then suddenly a huge wave rose
before them, and at the sight of it they all uttered a cry and
bent their heads. It seemed to them that it would dash down on
the whole ship's length and overwhelm them all. But Nauplius was
quick to ease the ship, and the wave rolled away beneath the
keel, and at the stern it raised the Argo and dashed her away
from the rocks.

They felt the sun as it streamed upon them through the sundered
rocks. They strained at the oars until the oars bent like bows in
their hands. The ship sprang forward. Surely they were now in the
wide Sea of Pontus!

The Argonauts shouted. They saw the rocks behind them with the
sea fowl screaming upon them. Surely they were in the Sea of
Pontus--the sea that had never been entered before through the
Rocks Wandering. The rocks no longer dashed together; each
remained fixed in its place, for it was the will of the gods that
these rocks should no more clash together after a mortal's ship
had passed between them.

They were now in the Sea of Pontus, the sea into which flowed the
river that Colchis was upon--the River Phasis. And now above
Jason's head the bird of peaceful days, the Halcyon, fluttered,
and the Argonauts knew that this was a sign from the gods that
the voyage would not any more be troublous.



XII. The Mountain Caucasus

They rested in the harbor of Thynias, the desert island, and
sailing from there they came to the land of the Mariandyni, a
people who were constantly at war with the Bebrycians; there the
hero Polydeuces was welcomed as a god. Twelve days afterward they
passed the mouth of the River Callichorus; then they came to the
mouth of that river that flows through the land of the Amazons,
the River Thermodon. Fourteen days from that place brought them
to the island that is filled with the birds of Ares, the god of
war. These birds dropped upon the heroes heavy, pointed feathers
that would have pierced them as arrows if they had not covered
themselves with their shields; then by shouting, and by striking
their shields with their spears, they raised such a clamor as
drove the birds away.

They sailed on, borne by a gentle breeze, until a gulf of the sea
opened before them, and lo! a mountain that they knew bore some
mighty name. Orpheus, looking on its peak and its crags, said,
"Lo, now! We, the Argonauts, are looking upon the mountain that
is named Caucasus!"

When he declared the name the heroes all stood up and looked on
the mountain with awe. And in awe they cried out a name, and that
name was "Prometheus!"

For upon that mountain the Titan god was held, his limbs bound
upon the hard rocks by fetters of bronze. Even as the Argonauts
looked toward the mountain a great shadow fell upon their ship,
and looking up they saw a monstrous bird flying. The beat of the
bird's wings filled out the sail and drove the Argo swiftly
onward. "It is the bird sent by Zeus," Orpheus said. "It is the
vulture that every day devours the liver of the Titan god." They
cowered down on the ship as they heard that word--all the
Argonauts save Heracles; he stood upright and looked out toward
where the bird was flying. Then, as the bird came near to the
mountain, the Argonauts heard a great cry of anguish go up from
the rocks.

"It is Prometheus crying out as the bird of Zeus flies down upon
him," they said to one another. Again they cowered down on the
ship, all save Heracles, who stayed looking toward where the
great vulture had flown.

The night came and the Argonauts sailed on in silence, thinking
in awe of the Titan god and of the doom that Zeus had
inflicted upon him. Then, as they sailed on under the stars,
Orpheus told them of Prometheus, of his gift to men, and of the
fearful punishment that had been meted out to him by Zeus.



Prometheus

The gods more than once made a race of men: the first was a
Golden Race. Very close to the gods who dwell on Olympus was this
Golden Race; they lived justly although there were no laws to
compel them. In the time of the Golden Race the earth knew only
one season, and that season was everlasting Spring. The men and
women of the Golden Race lived through a span of life that was
far beyond that of the men and women of our day, and when they
died it was as though sleep had become everlasting with them.
They had all good things, and that without labor, for the earth
without any forcing bestowed fruits and crops upon them. They had
peace all through their lives, this Golden Race, and after they
had passed away their spirits remained above the earth, inspiring
the men of the race that came after them to do great and gracious
things and to act justly and kindly to one another.

After the Golden Race had passed away, the gods made for the
earth a second race--a Silver Race. Less noble in spirit and in
body was this Silver Race, and the seasons that visited them were
less gracious. In the time of the Silver Race the gods made the
seasons--Summer and Spring, and Autumn and Winter. They knew
parching heat, and the bitter winds of winter, and snow and rain
and hail. It was the men of the Silver Race who first built
houses for shelter. They lived through a span of life that was
longer  than our span, but it was not long enough to give wisdom
to them. Children were brought up at their mothers' sides for a
hundred years, playing at childish things. And when they came to
years beyond  a hundred they quarreled with one another, and
wronged one another, and did not know enough to give reverence to
the immortal gods. Then, by the will of Zeus, the Silver Race
passed away as the  Golden Race had passed away. Their spirits
stay in the Underworld, and they are called by men the blessed
spirits of the Underworld.

And then there was made the third race--the Race of Bronze.
They were a race great of stature, terrible and strong. Their
armor was of bronze, their swords were of bronze, their
implements were of bronze, and of bronze, too, they made their
houses. No great span of life was theirs, for with the weapons
that they took in their terrible hands they slew one another.
Thus they passed away, and went down under the earth to Hades,
leaving no name that men might know them by.

Then the gods created a fourth race--our own: a Race of Iron.
We have not the justice that was amongst the men of the Golden
Race, nor the simpleness that was amongst the men of the Silver
Race, nor the stature nor the great strength that the men of the
Bronze Race possessed. We are of iron that we may endure.
It is our doom that we must never cease from labor and that we
must very quickly grow old.

But miserable as we are to-day, there was a time when the lot of
men was more miserable. With poor implements they had to labor
on a hard ground. There was less justice and kindliness amongst
men in those days than there is now.

Once it came into the mind of Zeus that he would destroy the
fourth race and leave the earth to the nymphs and the satyrs. He
would destroy it by a great flood. But Prometheus, the--Titan god
who had given aid to Zeus against the other Titans--Prometheus,
who was called the Foreseer--could not consent to the race of men
being destroyed utterly, and he considered a way of saving some
of them. To a man and a woman, Deucalion and Pyrrha, just and
gentle people, he brought word of the plan of Zeus, and he showed
them how to make a ship that would bear them through what was
about to be sent upon the earth.

Then Zeus shut up in their cave all the winds but the wind that
brings rain and clouds. He bade this wind, the South Wind, sweep
over the earth, flooding it with rain. He called upon Poseidon
and bade him to let the sea pour in upon the land. And Poseidon
commanded the rivers to put forth all their strength, and sweep
dykes away, and overflow their banks.

The clouds and the sea and the rivers poured upon the earth. The
flood rose higher and higher, and in the places where the pretty
lambs had played the ugly sea calves now gambolled; men in their
boats drew fishes out of the tops of elm trees, and the water
nymphs were amazed to come on men's cities under the waves.

Soon even the men and women who had boats were overwhelmed by the
rise of water--all perished then except Deucalion and Pyrrha, his
wife; them the waves had not overwhelmed, for they were in a ship
that Prometheus had shown them how to build. The flood went down
at last, and Deucalion and Pyrrha climbed up to a high and a dry
ground. Zeus saw that two of the race of men had been left alive.
But he saw that these two were just and kindly, and had a right
reverence for the gods. He spared them, and he saw their children
again peopling the earth.

Prometheus, who had saved them, looked on the men and women of
the earth with compassion. Their labor was hard, and they wrought
much to gain little. They were chilled at night in their houses,
and the winds that blew in the daytime made the old men and women
bend double like a wheel. Prometheus thought to himself that if
men and women had the element that only the gods knew of--the
element of fire--they could make for themselves implements for
labor; they could build houses that would keep out the chilling
winds, and they could warm themselves at the blaze.

But the gods had not willed that men should have fire, and to go
against the will of the gods would be impious. Prometheus went
against the will of the gods. He stole fire from the
altar of Zeus, and he hid it in a hollow fennel stalk, and he
brought it to men.

Then men were able to hammer iron into tools, and cut down
forests with axes, and sow grain where the forests had been. Then
were they able to make houses that the storms could not
overthrow, and they were able to warm themselves at hearth fires.
They had rest from their labor at times. They built cities; they
became beings who no longer had heads and backs bent but were
able to raise their faces even to the gods.

And Zeus spared the race of men who had now the sacred element of
fire. But he knew that Prometheus had stolen this fire even from
his own altar and had given it to men. And he thought on how he
might punish the great Titan god for his impiety.

He brought back from the Underworld the giants that he had put
there to guard the Titans that had been hurled down to Tartarus.
He brought back Gyes, Cottus, and Briareus, and he commanded them
to lay hands upon Prometheus and to fasten him with fetters to
the highest, blackest crag upon Caucasus. And Briareus, Cottus,
and Gyes seized upon the Titan god, and carried him to Caucasus,
and fettered him with fetters of bronze to the highest, blackest
crag--with fetters of bronze that may not be broken. There they
have left the Titan stretched, under the sky, with the cold winds
blowing upon him, and with the sun streaming down on him. And
that his punishment might exceed all other punishments Zeus had
sent a vulture to prey upon him--a vulture that tears at his
liver each day.

And yet Prometheus does not cry out that he has repented of
his gift to man; although the winds blow upon him, and the sun
streams upon him, and the vulture tears at his liver, Prometheus
will not cry out his repentance to heaven. And Zeus may not
utterly destroy him. For Prometheus the Foreseer knows a secret
that Zeus would fain have him disclose. He knows that even as
Zeus overthrew his father and made himself the ruler in his
stead, so, too, another will overthrow Zeus. And one day Zeus
will have to have the fetters broken from around the limbs of
Prometheus, and will have to bring from the rock and the vulture,
and into the Council of the Olympians, the unyielding Titan god.

When the light of the morning came the Argo was very near to
the Mountain Caucasus. The voyagers looked in awe upon its black
crags. They saw the great vulture circling over a high rock, and
from beneath where the vulture circled they heard a weary cry.
Then Heracles, who all night had stood by the mast, cried out to
the Argonauts to bring the ship near to a landing place.

But Jason would not have them go near; fear of the wrath of
Zeus was strong upon him; rather, he bade the Argonauts put all
their strength into their rowing, and draw far off from that
forbidden mountain. Heracles, not heeding what Jason
ordered, declared that it was his purpose to make his way up to
the black crag, and, with his shield and his sword in his hands,
slay the vulture that preyed upon the liver of Prometheus.

Then Orpheus in a clear voice spoke to the Argonauts. "Surely
some spirit possesses Heracles," he said. "Despite all we do or
say he will make his way to where Prometheus is fettered to the
rock. Do not gainsay him in this! Remember what Nereus, the
ancient one of the sea, declared! Did Nereus not say that a great
labor awaited Heracles, and that in the doing of it he should
work out the will of Zeus? Stay him not! How just it would be if
he who is the son of Zeus freed from his torments the
much-enduring Titan god!"

So Orpheus said in his clear, commanding voice. They drew near to
the Mountain Caucasus. Then Heracles, gripping the sword and
shield that were the gifts of the gods, sprang out on the landing
place. The Argonauts shouted farewell to him. But he, filled as
he was with an overmastering spirit, did not heed their words.

A strong breeze drove them onward; darkness came down, and the
Argo went on through the night. With the morning light those who
were sleeping were awakened by the cry of Nauplius--"Lo! The
Phasis, and the utmost bourne of the sea!" They sprang up, and
looked with many strange feelings upon the broad river they had
come to.

Here was the Phasis emptying itself into the Sea of Pontus! Up
that river was Colchis and the city of King Aetes, the
end of their voyage, the place where was kept the Golden Fleece!
Quickly they let down the sail; they lowered the mast and they
laid it along the deck; strongly they grasped the oars; they
swung the Argo around, and they entered the broad stream of the
Phasis.

Up the river they went with the Mountain Caucasus on their left
hand, and on their right the groves and gardens of Aea, King
Aetes's city. As they went up the stream, Jason poured from a
golden cup an offering to the gods. And to the dead heroes of
that country the Argonauts prayed for good fortune to their
enterprise.

It was Jason's counsel that they should not at once appear before
King Aetes, but visit him after they had seen the strength of his
city. They drew their ship into a shaded backwater, and there
they stayed while day grew and faded around them.

Night came, and the heroes slept upon the deck of Argo. Many
things came back to them in their dreams or through their
half-sleep: they thought of the Lemnian maidens they had parted
from; of the Clashing Rocks they had passed between; of the look
in the eyes of Heracles as he raised his face to the high, black
peak of Caucasus. They slept, and they thought they saw before
them THE GOLDEN FLEECE; darkness surrounded it; it seemed to the
dreaming Argonauts that the darkness was the magic power that
King Aetes possessed.



PART II. The Return To Greece

I. King Aeetes

They had come into a country that was the strangest of all
countries, and amongst a people that were the strangest of all
peoples. They were in the land, this people said, before the moon
had come into the sky. And it is true that when the great king of
Egypt had come so far, finding in all other places men living on
the high hills and eating the acorns that grew on the oaks there,
he found in Colchis the city of Aea with a wall around it and
with pillars on which writings were graven. That was when Egypt
was called the Morning Land.

And many of the magicians of Egypt who had come with King
Sesostris stayed in that city of Aea, and they taught people
spells that could stay the moon in her going and coming, in her
rising and setting. Priests of the Moon ruled the city of Aea
until King Aeetes came.

Aeetes had no need of their magic, for Helios, the bright Sun,
was his father, as he thought. Also, Hephaestus, the artisan of
the gods, was his friend, and Hephaestus made for him many
wonderful things to be his protection. Medea, too, his wise
daughter, knew the secrets taught by those who could sway the
 moon.

But Aeetes once was made afraid by a dream that he had: he dreamt
that a ship had come up the Phasis, and then, sailing on a mist,
had rammed his palace that was standing there in all its strength
and beauty until it had fallen down. On the morning of the night
that he had had this dream Aeetes called Medea, his wise
daughter, and he bade her go to the temple of Hecate, the Moon,
and search out spells that might destroy those who came against
his city.

That morning the Argonauts, who had passed the night in the
backwater of the river, had two youths come to them. They were in
a broken ship, and they had one oar only. When Jason, after
giving them food and fresh garments, questioned them, he found
out that these youths were of the city of Aea, and that they were
none others than the sons of Phrixus--of Phrixus who had come
there with the Golden Ram.

And the youths, Phrontis and Melas, were as amazed as was Jason
when they found out whose ship they had come aboard. For Jason
was the grandson of Cretheus, and Cretheus was the brother of
Athamas, their grandfather. They had ventured from Aea, where
they had been reared, thinking to reach the country of Athamas
and lay claim to his possessions. But they had been wrecked at a
place not far from the mouth of the Phasis, and with great pain
and struggle they had made their way back.

They were fearful of Aea and of their uncle King Aeetes, and they
would gladly go with Jason and the Argonauts back to Greece. They
would help Jason, they said, to persuade Aeetes to give the
Golden Fleece peaceably to them. Their mother was the daughter of
Aeetes--Chalciope, whom the king had given in marriage to
Phrixus, his guest.

A council of the Argonauts was held, and it was agreed that Jason
should go with two comrades to King Aeetes, Phrontis and Melas
going also. They were to ask the king to give them the Golden
Fleece and to offer him a recompense. Jason took Peleus and
Telamon with him.

As they came to the city a mist fell, and Jason and his comrades
with the sons of Phrixus went through the city without being
seen. They came before the palace of King Aeetes. Then Phrontis
and Melas were some way behind. The mist lifted, and before the
heroes was the wonder of the palace in the bright light of the
morning.

Vines with broad leaves and heavy clusters of fruit grew from
column to column, the columns holding a gallery up. And under the
vines were the four fountains that Hephaestus had made for King
Aeetes. They gushed out into golden, silver, bronze, and iron
basins. And one fountain gushed out clear water, and another
gushed out milk; another gushed out wine; and another oil. On
each side of the courtyard were the palace buildings; in one
King Aeetes lived with Apsyrtus, his son, and in the other
Chalciope and Medea lived with their handmaidens.

Medea was passing from her father's house. The mist lifted
suddenly and she saw three strangers in the palace courtyard. One
had a crimson mantle on; his shoulders were such as to make him
seem a man that a whole world could not overthrow, and his eyes
had all the sun's light in them.

Amazed, Medea stood looking upon Jason, wondering at his bright
hair and gleaming eyes and at the lightness and strength of the
hand that he had raised. And then a dove flew toward her: it was
being chased by a hawk, and Medea saw the hawk's eyes and beak.
As the dove lighted upon her shoulder she threw her veil around
it, and the hawk dashed itself against a column. And as Medea,
trembling, leaned against the column she heard a cry from her
sister, who was within.

For now Phrontis and Melas had come up, and Chalciope who was
spinning by the door saw them and cried out. All the servants
rushed out. Seeing Chalciope's sons there they, too, uttered loud
cries, and made such commotion that Apsyrtus and then King Aeetes
came out of the palace.

Jason saw King Aeetes. He was old and white, but he had great
green eyes, and the strength of a leopard was in all he did. And
Jason looked upon Apsyrtus too; the son of Aeetes looked like a
Phoenician merchant, black of beard and with rings in his ears,
with a hooked nose and a gleam of copper in his face.

Phrontis and Melas went from their mother's embrace and made
reverence to King Aeetes. Then they spoke of the heroes who were
with them, of Jason and his two comrades. Aeetes bade all enter
the palace; baths were made ready for them, and a banquet was
prepared.

After the banquet, when they all sat together, Aeetes addressing
the eldest of Chalciope's sons, said:

"Sons of Phrixus, of that man whom I honored above all men who
came to my halls, speak now and tell me how it is that you have
come back to Aea so soon, and who they are, these men who come
with you?"

Aeetes, as he spoke, looked sharply upon Phrontis and Melas, for
he suspected them of having returned to Aea, bringing these armed
men with them, with an evil intent. Phrontis looked at the King,
and said:

"Aeetes, our ship was driven upon the Island of Ares, where it
was almost broken upon the rocks. That was on a murky night, and
in the morning the birds of Ares shot their sharp feathers upon
us. We pulled away from that place, and thereafter we were driven
by the winds back to the mouth of the Phasis. There we met with
these heroes who were friendly to us. Who they are, what they
have come to your city for, I shall now tell you.

"A certain king, longing to drive one of these heroes from his

land, and hoping that the race of Cretheus might perish utterly,
led him to enter a most perilous adventure. He came here upon
a ship that was made by the command of Hera, the wife of
Zeus, a ship more wonderful than mortals ever sailed in before.
With him there came the mightiest of the heroes of Greece. He is
Jason, the grandson of Cretheus, and he has come to beg that you
will grant him freely the famous Fleece of Gold that Phrixus
brought to Aea.

"But not without recompense to you would he take the Fleece.
Already he has heard of your bitter foes, the Sauromatae. He with
his comrades would subdue them for you. And if you would ask of
the names and the lineage of the heroes who are with Jason I
shall tell you. This is Peleus and this is Telamon; they are
brothers, and they are sons of .,Eacus, who was of the seed of
Zeus. And all the other heroes who have come with them are of the
seed of the gods."

So Phrontis said, but the King was not placated by what he said.
He thought that the sons of Chalciope had returned to Aea
bringing these warriors with them so that they might wrest the
kingship from him, or, failing that, plunder the city. Aeetes's
heart was filled with wrath as he looked upon them, and his eyes
shone as a leopard's eyes.

"Begone from my sight," he cried, "robbers that ye are!
Tricksters! If you had not eaten at my table, assuredly I should
have had your tongues cut out for speaking falsehoods about the
blessed gods, saying that this one and that of your companions
was of their divine race."

Telamon and Peleus strode forward with angry hearts; they would
have laid their hands upon King Aeetes only Jason held them back.
And then speaking to the king in a quiet voice, Jason said:

"Bear with us, King Aeetes, I pray you. We have not come with
such evil intent as you think. Ah, it was the evil command of an
evil king that sent me forth with these companions of mine across
dangerous gulfs of the sea, and to face your wrath and the armed
men you can bring against us. We are ready to make great
recompense for the friendliness you may show to us. We will
subdue for you the Sauromatae, or any other people that you would
lord it over."

But Aeetes was not made friendly by Jason's words. His heart was
divided as to whether he should summon his armed men and have
them slain upon the spot, or whether he should put them into
danger by the trial he would make of them.

At last he thought that it would be better to put them to the
trial that he had in mind, slaying them afterward if need be. And
then he spoke to Jason, saying:

"Strangers to Colchis, it may be true what my nephews have said.
It may be that ye are truly of the seed of the immortals. And it
may be that I shall give you the Golden Fleece to bear away after
I have made trial of you."

As he spoke Medea, brought there by his messenger so that she
might observe the strangers, came into the chamber. She entered
softly and she stood away from her father and the four who were
speaking with him. Jason looked upon her, and even although his
mind was filled with the thought of bending King Aeetes to his
will,  he saw what manner of maiden she was, and what beauty and
what strength  was hers.

She had a dark face that was made very strange by her crown of
golden hair. Her eyes, like her father's, were wide and full of
light, and her lips were so full and red that they made her mouth
like an opening rose. But her brows were always knit as if there
was some secret anger within her.

"With brave men I have no quarrel," said Aeetes "I will make a
trial of your bravery, and if your bravery wins through the
trial, be very sure that you will have the Golden Fleece to bring
back in triumph to Iolcus.

"But the trial that I would make of you is hard for a great hero
even. Know that on the plain of Ares yonder I have two
fire-breathing bulls with feet of brass. These bulls were once
conquered by me; I yoked them to a plow of adamant, and with them
I plowed the field of Ares for four plow-gates. Then I sowed the
furrows, not with the seed that Demeter gives, but with teeth of
a dragon. And from the dragon's teeth that I sowed in the field
of Ares armed men sprang up. I slew them with my spear as they
rose around me to slay me. If you can accomplish this that I
accomplished in days gone by I shall submit to you and give you
the Golden Fleece. But if you cannot accomplish what I once
accomplished you shall go from my city empty-handed; for it is
not right that a brave man should yield aught to one who cannot
show himself as brave."

So Aeetes said. Then Jason, utterly confounded, cast his eyes
upon the ground. He raised them to speak to the king, and as he
did he found the strange eyes of Medea upon him. With all the
courage that was in him he spoke:

"I will dare this contest, monstrous as it is. I will face this
doom. I have come far, and there is nothing else for me to do but
to yoke your firebreathing bulls to the plow of adamant, and plow
the furrows in the field of Ares, and struggle with the
Earth-born Men." As he said this he saw the eyes of Medea grow
wide as with fear.

Then Aeetes, said, "Go back to your ship and make ready for the
trial." Jason, with Peleus and Telamon, left the chamber, and the
king smiled grimly as he saw them go. Phrontis and Melas went to
where their mother was. But Medea stayed, and Aeetes looked upon
her with his great leopard's eyes. "My daughter, my wise Medea,"
he said, "go, put spells upon the Moon, that Hecate may weaken
that man in his hour of trial." Medea turned away from her
father's eyes, and went to her chamber.



II. Medea The Sorceress

She turned away from her father's eyes and she went into her own 
chamber. For a long time she stood there with her hands clasped
together.  She heard the voice of Chalciope lamenting because
Aeetes had taken a  hatred to her sons and might strive to
destroy them. She heard the voice of her sister lamenting, but
Medea thought that the cause that her sister  had for grieving
was small compared with the cause that she herself had.

She thought on the moment when she had seen Jason for the first
time--in the courtyard as the mist lifted and the dove flew to
her; she thought of him as he lifted those bright eyes of his;
then she thought of his voice as he spoke after her father had
imposed the dreadful trial upon him. She would have liked then to
have cried out to him, "O youth, if others rejoice at the doom
that you go to, I do not rejoice."

Still her sister lamented. But how great was her own grief
compared to her sister's! For Chalciope could try to help her
sons and could lament for the danger they were in and no one
would blame her. But she might not strive to help Jason nor might
she lament for the danger he was in. How terrible it would be for
a maiden to help a stranger against her father's design! How
terrible it would be for a woman of Colchis to help a stranger
against the will of the king! How terrible it would be for a
daughter to plot against King Aeetes in his own palace!

And then Medea hated Aea, her city. She hated the furious people
who came together in the assembly, and she hated the brazen bulls
that Hephaestus had given her father. And then she thought that
there was nothing in Aea except the furious people and the
fire-breathing bulls. O how pitiful it was that the strange hero
and his friends should have come to such a place for the sake of
the Golden Fleece that was watched over by the sleepless serpent
in the grove of Ares!

Still Chalciope lamented. Would Chalciope come to her and ask
her, Medea, to help her sons? If she should come she might speak
of the strangers, too, and of the danger they were in. Medea went
to her couch and lay down upon it. She longed for her sister to
come to her or to call to her.

But Chalciope stayed in her own chamber. Medea, lying upon her
couch, listened to her sister's laments. At last she went near
where Chalciope was. Then shame that she should think so much
about the stranger came over her. She stood there without moving;
she turned to go back to the couch, and then trembled so much
that she could not stir. As she stood between her couch and her
sister's chamber she heard the voice of Chalciope calling to her.

She went into the chamber where her sister stood. Chalciope flung
her arms around her. "Swear," said she to Medea, "swear by
Hecate, the Moon, that you will never speak of something I am
going to ask you." Medea swore that she would never speak of it.

Chalciope spoke of the danger her sons were in. She asked Medea
to devise a way by which they could escape with the stranger from
Aea. "In Aea and in Colchis," she said, "there will be no safety
for my sons henceforth." And to save Phrontis and Melas, she
said, Medea would have to save the strangers also. Surely she
knew of a charm that would save the stranger from the brazen
bulls in the contest on the morrow!

So Chalciope came to the very thing that was in Medea's mind.
Her heart bounded with joy and she embraced her. "Chalciope,"
she said, "I declare that I am your sister, indeed--aye, and
your daughter, too, for did you not care for me when I was an
infant? I will strive to save your sons. I will strive to save
the strangers who came with your sons. Send one to the
strangers--send him to the leader of the strangers, and tell him
that I would see him at daybreak in the temple of Hecate."

When Medea said this Chalciope embraced her again. She was amazed
to see how Medea's tears were flowing. "Chalciope," she said, "no
one will know the dangers that I shall go through to save them."

Swiftly then Chalciope went from the chamber. But Medea stayed
there with her head bowed and the blush of shame on her face. She
thought that already she had deceived her sister, making her
think that it was Phrontis and Melas and not Jason that was in
her mind to save. And she thought on how she would have to plot
against her father and against her own people, and all for the
sake of a stranger who would sail away without thought of her,
without the image of her in his mind.

Jason, with Peleus and Telamon, went back to the Argo. His
comrades asked how he had fared, and when he spoke to them of the
fire-breathing bulls with feet of brass, of the dragon's teeth
that had to be sown, and of the Earth-born Men that had to be
overcome, the Argonauts were greatly cast down, for this task,
they thought, was one that could not be accomplished. He who
stood before the fire-breathing bulls would perish on the moment.
But they knew that one amongst them must strive to accomplish the
task. And if Jason held back, Peleus, Telamon, Theseus, Castor,
Polydeuces, or any one of the others would undertake it.

But Jason would not hold back. On the morrow, he said, he would
strive to yoke the fire-breathing, brazen-footed bulls to the
plow of adamant. If he perished the Argonauts should then do what
they thought was best--make other trials to gain the Golden
Fleece, or turn their ship and sail back to Greece.

While they were speaking, Phrontis, Chalciope's son, came to the
ship. The Argonauts welcomed him, and in a while he began to
speak of his mother's sister and of the help she could give. They
grew eager as be spoke of her, all except rough Arcas, who stood
wrapped in his bear's skin. "Shame on us," rough Arcas cried,
"shame on us if we have come here to crave the help of girls!
Speak no more of this! Let us, the Argonauts, go with
swords into the city of Aea, and slay this king, and carry off
the Fleece of Gold."

Some of the Argonauts murmured approval of what Arcas said. But
Orpheus silenced him and them, for in his prophetic mind Orpheus
saw something of the help that Medea would give them. It would be
well, Orpheus said, to take help from this wise maiden; Jason
should go to her in the temple of Hecate. The Argonauts agreed to
this; they listened to what Phrontis told them about the brazen
bulls, and the night wore on.

When darkness came upon the earth; when, at sea, sailors looked
to the Bear arid the stars of Orion; when, in the city, there was
no longer the sound of barking dogs nor of men's voices, Medea
went from the palace. She came to a path; she followed it until
it brought her into the part of the grove that was all black with
the shadow that oak trees made.

She raised up her hands and she called upon Hecate, the Moon. As
she did, there was a blaze as from torches all around, and she
saw horrible serpents stretching themselves toward her from the
branches of the trees. Medea shrank back in fear. But again she
called upon Hecate. And now there was a howling as from the
hounds of Hades all around her. Fearful, indeed, Medea grew as
the howling came near her; almost she turned to flee. But she
raised her hands again and called upon Hecate. Then the nymphs
who haunted the marsh and the river shrieked, and at those
shrieks Medea crouched down in fear.

She called upon Hecate, the Moon, again. She saw the moon rise
above the treetops, and then the hissing and shrieking and
howling died away. Holding up a goblet in her hand Medea poured
out a libation of honey to Hecate, the Moon.

And then she went to where the moon made a brightness upon the
ground. There she saw a flower that rose above the other
flowers--a flower that grew from two joined stalks, and that was
of the color of a crocus. Medea cut the stalks with a brazen
knife, and as she did there came a deep groan out of the earth.

This was the Promethean flower. It had come out of the earth
first when the vulture that tore at Prometheus's liver had let
fall to earth a drop of his blood. With a Caspian shell that she
had brought with her Medea gathered the dark juice of this
flower--the juice that went to make her most potent charm. All
night she went through the grove gathering the juice of secret
herbs; then she mingled them in a phial that she put away in her
girdle.

She went from that grove and along the river. When the sun shed
its first rays upon snowy Caucasus she stood outside the temple
of Hecate. She waited, but she had not long to wait, for, like
the bright star Sirius rising out of Ocean, soon she saw Jason
coming toward her. She made a sign to him, and he came and stood
beside her in the portals of the temple.

They would have stood face to face if Medea did not have her head
bent. A blush had come upon her face, and Jason seeing it, and
seeing how her head was bent, knew how grievous it was to her to
meet and speak to a stranger in this way. He took her hand and he
spoke to her reverently, as one would speak to a priestess.

"Lady," he said, "I implore you by Hecate and by Zeus who helps
all strangers and suppliants to be kind to me and to the men who
have come to your country with me. Without your help I cannot
hope to prevail in the grievous trial that has been laid upon me.
If you will help us, Medea, your name will be renowned throughout
all Greece. And I have hopes that you will help us, for your face
and form show you to be one who can be kind and gracious."

The blush of shame had gone from Medea's face and a softer blush
came over her as Jason spoke. She looked upon him and she knew
that she could hardly live if the breath of the brazen bulls
withered his life or if the Earth-born Men slew him. She took the
charm from out her girdle; ungrudgingly she put it into Jason's
hands. And as she gave him the charm that she had gained with
such danger, the fear and trouble that was around her heart
melted as the dew melts from around the rose when it is warmed by
the first light of the morning.

Then they spoke standing close together in the portal of the
temple. She told him how he should anoint his body all over with
the charm; it would give him, she said, boundless and untiring
strength, and make him so that the breath of the bulls could not
wither him nor the horns of the bulls pierce him. She told him
also to sprinkle his shield and his sword with the charm.

And then they spoke of the dragon's teeth and of the Earth-born
Men who would spring from them. Medea told Jason that when they
arose out of the earth he was to cast a great stone amongst them.
The Earth-born Men would struggle about the stone, and they would
slay each other in the contest.

Her dark and delicate face was beautiful. Jason looked upon her,
and it came into his mind that in Colchis there was something
else of worth besides the Golden Fleece. And he thought that
after he had won the Fleece there would be peace between the
Argonauts and King Aeetes, and that he and Medea might sit
together in the king's hall. But when he spoke of being joined in
friendship with her father, Medea cried:

"Think not of treaties nor of covenants. In Greece such are
regarded, but not here. Ah, do not think that the king, my
father, will keep any peace with you! When you have won the
Fleece you must hasten away. You must not tarry in Aea."

She said this and her cheeks were wet with tears to think that he
should go so soon, that he would go so far, and that she would
never look upon him again. She bent her head again and she said:
"Tell me about your own land; about the place of your father,
the place where you will live when you win back from Colchis."

Then Jason told her of Icolus; he told her how it was circled by
mountains not so lofty as her Caucasus; he told her of the
pasture lands of Iolcus with their flocks of sheep; he told her
of the Mountain Pelion where he had been reared by Chiron, the
ancient centaur; he told her of his father who lingered out his
life in waiting for his return.

Medea said: "When you go back to Iolcus do not forget me, Medea.
I shall remember you, Jason, even in my father's despite. And it
will be my hope that some rumor of you will come to me like some
messenger-bird. If you forget me may some blast of wind sweep me
away to Iolcus, and may I sit in your hall an unknown and an
unexpected guest!"

Then they parted; Medea went swiftly back to the palace, and
Jason, turning to the river, went to where the Argo was moored.

The heroes embraced and questioned him; he told them of Medea's
counsel and he showed them the charm she had given him. That
savage man Arcas scoffed at Medea's counsel and Medea's charm,
saying that the Argonauts had become poorspirited indeed when
they had to depend upon a girl's help.

Jason bathed in the river; then he anointed himself with the
charm; he sprinkled his spear and shield and sword with it. He
came to Arcas who sat upon his bench, still nursing his anger,
and he held the spear toward him.

Arcas took up his heavy sword and he hewed at the butt of the
spear. The edge of the sword turned. The blade leaped back in his
hand as if it had been struck against an anvil. And Jason,
feeling within him a boundless and tireless strength, laughed
aloud.



III. The Winning Of The Golden Fleece

They took the ship out of the backwater and they brought her to a
wharf in the city. At a place that was called "The Ram's Couch"
they fastened the Argo. Then they marched to the field of Ares,
where the king and the Colchian people were.

Jason, carrying his shield and spear, went before the king. From
the king's hand he took the gleaming helmet that held the
dragon's teeth. This he put into the hands of Theseus, who went
with him. Then with the spear and shield in his hands, with his
sword girt across his shoulders, and with his mantle stripped
off, Jason looked across the field of Ares.

He saw the plow that he was to yoke to the bulls; he saw the yoke
of bronze near it; he saw the tracks of the bulls' hooves. He
followed the tracks until he came to the lair of the
fire-breathing bulls. Out of that lair, which was underground,
smoke and fire belched. He set his feet firmly upon the ground
and he held his shield before him. He awaited the onset of the
bulls. They came clanging up with loud bellowing, breathing out
fire.  They lowered their heads, and with mighty, iron-tipped
horns they  came to gore and trample him.

Medea's charm had made him strong; Medea's charm had made his
shield impregnable. The rush of the bulls did not overthrow him.
His comrades shouted to see him standing firmly there, and in
wonder the Colchians gazed upon him. All round him, as from a
furnace, there came smoke and fire.

The bulls roared mightily. Grasping the horns of the bull that
was upon his right hand, Jason dragged him until he had brought
him beside the yoke of bronze. Striking the brazen knees of the
bull suddenly with his foot he forced him down. Then he smote the
other bull as it rushed upon him, and it too he forced down upon
its knees.

Castor and Polydeuces held the yoke to him. Jason bound it upon
the necks of the bulls. He fastened the plow to the yoke. Then he
took his shield and set it upon his back, and grasping the
handles of the plow he started to make the furrow.

With his long spear he drove the bulls before him as with a goad.
Terribly they raged, furiously they breathed out fire. Beside
Jason Theseus went holding the helmet that held the dragon's
teeth. The hard ground was torn up by the plow of adamant, and
the clods groaned as they were cast up. Jason flung the teeth
between the open sods, often turning his head in fear that the
deadly crop of the Earth-born Men were rising behind him.

By the time that a third of the day was finished the field of
Ares had been plowed and sown. As yet the furrows were free of
the Earth-born Men. Jason went down to the river and filled his
helmet full of water and drank deeply. And his knees that were
stiffened with the plowing he bent until they were made supple
again.

He saw the field rising into mounds. It seemed that there were
graves all over the field of Ares. Then he saw spears and shields
and helmets rising up out of the earth. Then armed warriors
sprang up, a fierce battle cry upon their lips.

Jason remembered the counsel of Medea. He raised a boulder that
four men could hardly raise and with arms hardened by the plowing
he cast it. The Colchians shouted to see such a stone cast by the
hands of one man. Right into the middle of the Earth-born Men the
stone came. They leaped upon it like hounds, striking at one
another as they came together. Shield crashed on shield, spear
rang upon spear as they struck at each other. The Earth-born Men,
as fast as they arose, went down before the weapons in the hands
of their brethren.

Jason rushed upon them, his sword in his hand. He slew some that
had risen out of the earth only as far as the shoulders; he slew
others whose feet were still in the earth; he slew others who
were ready to spring upon him. Soon all the Earth-born
Men were slain, and the furrows ran with their dark blood as
channels run with water in springtime.

The Argonauts shouted loudly for Jason's victory. King Aeetes
rose from his seat that was beside the river and he went back to
the city. The Colchians followed him. Day faded, and Jason's
contest was ended.

But it was not the will of Aeetes that the strangers should be
let depart peaceably with the Golden Fleece that Jason had won.
In the assembly place, with his son Apsyrtus beside him, and with
the furious Colchians all around him, the king stood: on his
breast was the gleaming corselet that Ares had given him, and on
his head was that golden helmet with its four plumes that made
him look as if he were truly the son of Helios, the Sun.
Lightnings flashed from his great eyes; he spoke fiercely to the
Colchians, holding in his hand his bronze-topped spear.

He would have them attack the strangers and burn the Argo. He
would have the sons of Phrixus slain for bringing them to Aea.
There was a prophecy, he declared, that would have him be
watchful of the treachery of his own offspring: this prophecy was
being fulfilled by the children of Chalciope; he feared, too,
that his daughter, Medea, had aided the strangers. So the king
spoke, and the Colchians, hating all strangers, shouted around
him.

Word of what her father had said was brought to Medea. She knew
that  she would have to go to the Argonauts and bid them flee
hastily from  Aea. They would not go, she knew, without the
Golden Fleece; then she,  Medea, would have to show them how to
gain the Fleece.

Then she could never again go back to her father's palace, she
could never again sit in this chamber and talk to her
handmaidens, and be with Chalciope, her sister. Forever afterward
she would be dependent on the kindness of strangers. Medea wept
when she thought of all this. And then she cut off a tress of her
hair and she left it in her chamber as a farewell from one who
was going afar. Into the chamber where Chalciope was she
whispered farewell.

The palace doors were all heavily bolted, but Medea did not have
to pull back the bolts. As she chanted her Magic Song the bolts
softly drew back, the doors softly opened. Swiftly she went along
the ways that led to the river. She came to where fires were
blazing and she knew that the Argonauts were there.

She called to them, and Phrontis, Chalciope's son, heard the cry
and knew the voice. To Jason he spoke, and Jason quickly went to
where Medea stood.

She clasped Jason's hand and she drew him with her. "The Golden
Fleece," she said, "the time has come when you must pluck the
Golden Fleece off the oak in the grove of Ares." When she said
these words all Jason's being became taut like the string of a
bow.

It was then the hour when huntsmen cast sleep from their
eyes--huntsmen who never sleep away the end of the night, but
who are ever ready to be up and away with their hounds before the
beams of the sun efface the track and the scent of the quarry.
Along a path that went from the river Medea drew Jason. They
entered a grove. Then Jason saw something that was like a cloud
filled with the light of the rising sun. It hung from a great oak
tree. In awe he stood and looked upon it, knowing that at last he
looked upon THE GOLDEN FLEECE.

His hand let slip Medea's hand and he went to seize the
Fleece. As he did he heard a dreadful hiss. And then he saw the
guardian of the Golden Fleece. Coiled all around the tree, with
outstretched neck and keen and sleepless eyes, was a deadly
serpent. Its hiss ran all through the grove and the birds that
were wakening up squawked in terror.

Like rings of smoke that rise one above the other, the coils
of the serpent went around the tree--coils covered by hard and
gleaming scales. It uncoiled, stretched itself, and lifted its
head to strike. Then Medea dropped on her knees before it, and
began to chant her Magic Song.

As she sang, the coils around the tree grew slack. Like a
dark, noiseless wave the serpent sank down on the ground. But
still its jaws were open, and those dreadful jaws threatened
Jason. Medea, with a newly cut spray of juniper dipped in a
mystic brew, touched its deadly eyes. And still she chanted
her Magic Song. The serpent's jaws closed; its eyes became
deadened; far through the grove its length was stretched out.

Then Jason took the Golden Fleece. As he raised his hands to it,
its brightness was such as to make a flame on his face. Medea
called to him. He strove to gather it all up in his arms; Medea
was beside him, and they went swiftly on.

They came to the river and down to the place where the Argo was
moored. The heroes who were aboard started up, astonished to see
the Fleece that shone as with the lightning of Zeus. Over Medea
Jason cast it, and he lifted her aboard the Argo.

"O friends," he cried, "the quest on which we dared the gulfs of
the sea and the wrath of kings is accomplished, thanks to the
help of this maiden. Now may we return to Greece; now have we the
hope of looking upon our fathers and our friends once more. And
in all honor will we bring this maiden with us, Medea, the
daughter of King Aeetes.

Then he drew his sword and cut the hawsers of the ship, calling
upon the heroes to drive the Argo on. There was a din and a
strain and a splash of oars, and away from Aea the Argo dashed.
Beside the mast Medea stood; the Golden Fleece had fallen at her
feet, and her head and face were covered by her silver veil.



IV. THE SLAYING OF APSYRTUS

That silver veil was to be splashed with a brother's blood, and
the Argonauts, because of that calamity, were for a long time to
be held back from a return to their native land.

Now as they went down the river they saw that dangers were coming
swiftly upon them. The chariots of the Colchians were upon the
banks. Jason saw King Aeetes in his chariot, a blazing torch
lighting his corsclet and his helmet. Swiftly the Argo went, but
there were ships behind her, and they went swiftly too.

They came into the Sea of Pontus, and Phrontis, the son of
Phrixus, gave counsel to them. "Do not strive to make the passage
of the Symplegades," he said. "All who live around the Sea of
Pontus are friendly to King Aeetes they will be warned by him,
and they will be ready to slay us and take the Argo. Let us
journey up the River Ister, and by that way we can come to the
Thrinacian Sea that is close to your land."

The Argonauts thought well of what Phrontis said; into the waters
of the Ister the ship was brought. Many of the Colchian ships
passed by the mouth of the river, and went seeking the Argo
toward the passage of the Symplegades.

But the Argonauts were on a way that was dangerous for them. For
Apsyrtus had not gone toward the Symplegades seeking the Argo. He
had led his soldiers overland to the River Ister at a place that
was at a distance above its mouth. There were islands in the
river at that place, and the soldiers of Apsyrtus landed on the
islands, while Apsyrtus went to the kings of the people around
and claimed their support.

The Argo came and the heroes found themselves cut off. They could
not make their way between the islands that were filled with the
Colchian soldiers, nor along the banks that were lined with men
friendly to King Aeetes. Argo was stayed. Apsyrtus sent for the
chiefs; he had men enough to overwhelm them, but he shrank from a
fight with the heroes, and he thought that he might gain all he
wanted from them without a struggle.

Theseus and Peleus went to him. Apsyrtus would have them give up
the Golden Fleece; he would have them give up Medea and the sons
of Phrixus also.

Theseus and Peleus appealed to the judgment of the kings who
supported Apsyrtus. Aeetes, they said, had no more claim on the
Golden Fleece. He had promised it to Jason as a reward for tasks
that he had imposed. The tasks had been accomplished and the
Fleece, no matter in what way it was taken from the grove of
Ares, was theirs. So Theseus and Peleus said, and the kings who
supported Apsyrtus gave judgment for the Argonauts.

But Medea would have to be given to her brother. If that were
done the Argo would be let go on her course, Apsyrtus said, and
the Golden Fleece would be left with them. Apsyrtus said,
too, that he would not take Medea back to the wrath of her
father; if the Argonauts gave her up she would be let stay on the
island of Artemis and under the guardianship of the goddess.

The chiefs brought Apsyrtus's words back. There was a council of
the Argonauts, and they agreed that they should leave Medea on
the island of Artemis.

But grief and wrath took hold of Medea when she heard of this
resolve. Almost she would burn the Argo. She went to where Jason
stood, and she spoke again of all she had done to save his life
and win the Golden Fleece for the Argonauts. Jason made her look
on the ships and the soldiers that were around them; he showed
her how these could overwhelm the Argonauts and slay them all.
With all the heroes slain, he said, Medea would come into the
hands of Apsyrtus, who then could leave her on the island of
Artemis or take her back to the wrath of her father.

But Medea would not consent to go nor could Jason's heart consent
to let her go. Then these two made a plot to deceive Apsyrtus.

"I have not been of the council that agreed to give you up to
him," Jason said. "After you have been left there I will take you
off the island of Artemis secretly. The Colchians and the kings
who support them, not knowing that you have been taken off and
hidden on the Argo, will let us pass." This Medea and Jason
planned to do, and it was an ill thing, for it was breaking the
covenant that the chiefs had entered with Apsyrtus.

Medea then was left by the Argonauts on the island of Artemis.
Now Apsyrtus had been commanded by his father to bring her back
to Aea; he thought that when she had been left by the Argonauts
he could force her to come with him. So he went over to the
island. Jason, secretly leaving his companions, went to the
island from the other side.

Before the temple of Artemis Jason and Apsyrtus came face to
face. Both men, thinking they had been betrayed to their deaths,
drew their swords. Then, before the vestibule of the temple and
under the eyes of Medea, Jason and Apsyrtus fought. Jason's sword
pierced the son of Aeetes as he fell Apsyrtus cried out bitter
words against Medea, saying that it was on her account that he
had come on his death. And as he fell the blood of her brother
splashed Medea's silver veil.

Jason lifted Medea up and carried her to the Argo. They hid the
maiden under the Fleece of Gold and they sailed past the ships of
the Colchians. When darkness came they were far from the island
of Artemis. It was then that they heard a loud wailing, and they
knew that the Colchians had discovered that their prince had been
slain.

The Colchians did not pursue them. Fearing the wrath of Aeetes
they made settlements in the lands of the kings who had supported
A Apsyrtus; they never went back to Aea; they called themselves
Apsyrtians henceforward, naming themselves after the prince they
had come with.

They had escaped the danger that had hemmed them in, but the
Argonauts, as they sailed on, were not content; covenants had
been broken, and blood had been shed in a bad cause. And as they
went on through the darkness the voice of the ship was heard; at
the sound of that voice fear and sorrow came upon the voyagers,
for they felt that it had a prophecy of doom.

Castor and Polydeuces went to the front of the ship; holding up
their hands, they prayed. Then they heard the words that the
voice uttered: in the night as they went on the voice proclaimed
the wrath of Zeus on account of the slaying of Apsyrtus.

What was their doom to be? It was that the Argonauts would have
to wander forever over the gulfs of the sea unless Medea had
herself cleansed of her brother's blood. There was one who could
cleanse Medea--Circe, the daughter of Helios and Perse. The voice
urged the heroes to pray to the immortal gods that the way to the
island of Circe be shown to them.



V. MEDEA COMES TO CIRCE

They sailed up the River Ister until they came to the Eridanus,
that river across which no bird can fly. Leaving the Eridanus
they entered the Rhodanus, a river that rises in the extreme
north, where Night herself has her habitation. And voyaging up
this river they came to the Stormy Lakes. A mist lay upon the
lakes night and day; voyaging through them the Argonauts at last
brought out their ship upon the Sea of Ausonia.

It was Zetes and Calais, the sons of the North Wind, who brought
the Argo safely along this dangerous course. And to Zetes and
Calais Iris, the messenger of the gods, appeared and revealed to
them where Circe's island lay.

Deep blue water was all around that island, and on its height a
marble house was to be seen. But a strange haze covered
everything as with a veil. As the Argonauts came near they saw
what looked to them like great dragonflies; they came down to the
shore, and then the heroes saw that they were maidens in gleaming
dresses.

The maidens waved their hands to the voyagers, calling them to
come on the island. Strange beasts came up to where the maidens
were and made whimpering cries.

The Argonauts would have drawn the ship close and would
have sprung upon the island only that Medea cried out to them.
She showed them the beasts that whimpered around the maidens, and
then, as the Argonauts looked upon them, they saw that these were
not beasts of the wild. There was something strange and fearful
about them; the heroes gazed upon them with troubled eyes. They
brought the ship near, but they stayed upon their benches,
holding the oars in their hands.

Medea sprang to the island; she spoke to the maidens so that they
shrank away; then the beasts came and whimpered around her.
"Forbear to land here, O Argonauts," Medea cried, "for this is
the island where men are changed into beasts." She called to
Jason to come; only Jason would she have come upon the island.

They went swiftly toward the marble house, and the beasts
followed them, looking up at Jason and Medea with pitiful human
eyes. They went into the marble house of Circe, and as suppliants
they seated themselves at the hearth.

Circe stood at her loom, weaving her many-colored threads.
Swiftly she turned to the suppliants; she looked for something
strange in them, for just before they came the walls of her house
dripped with blood and the flame ran over and into her pot,
burning up all the magic herbs she was brewing. She went toward
where they sat, Medea with her face hidden by her hands, and
Jason, with his head bent,--holding with its point in the ground
the sword with which he had slain the son of Aeetes
When Medea took her hands away from before her face, Circe knew
that, like herself, this maiden was of the race of Helios. Medea
spoke to her, telling her first of the voyage of the heroes and
of their toils; telling her then of how she had given help to
Jason against the will of Aeetes her father; telling her then,
fearfully, of the slaying of Apsyrtus. She covered her face with
her robe as she spoke of it. And then she told Circe she had
come, warned by the judgment of Zeus, to ask of Circe, the
daughter of Helios, to purify her from the stain of her brother's
blood.

Like all the children of Helios, Circe had eyes that were wide
and full of life, but she had stony lips--lips that were heavy
and moveless. Bright golden hair hung smoothly along each of her
sides. First she held a cup to them that was filled with pure
water, and Jason and Medea drank from that cup.

Then Circe stayed by the hearth; she burnt cakes in the flame,
and all the while she prayed to Zeus to be gentle with these
suppliants. She brought both to the seashore. There she washed
Medea's body and her garments with the spray of the sea.

Medea pleaded with Circe to tell her of the life she foresaw for
her, but Circe would not speak of it. She told Medea that one day
she would meet a woman who knew nothing about enchantments but
who had much human wisdom. She was to ask of her what she was to
do in her life or what she was to leave undone. And whatever this
woman out of her wisdom told her, that Medea was to regard. Once
more Circe offered them the cup filled with clear water, and when
they had drunken of it she left them upon the seashore. As she
went toward her marble house the strange beasts followed Circe,
whimpering as they went. Jason and Medea went aboard the Argo,
and the heroes drew away from Circe's island.



VI. In The Land of the Phaeacians

Wearied were the heroes now. They would have fain gone upon the
island of Circe to rest there away from the oars and the sound of
the sea. But the wisest of them, looking upon the beasts that
were men transformed, held the Argo far off the shore. Then Jason
and Medea came aboard, and with heavy hearts and wearied arms
they turned to the open sea again.

No longer had they such high hearts as when they drove the Argo
between the Clashers and into the Sea of Pontus. Now their heads
drooped as they went on, and they sang such songs as slaves sing
in their hopeless labor. Orpheus grew fearful for them now.

For Orpheus knew that they were drawing toward a danger. There
was no other way for them, he knew, but past the Island
Anthemoessa in the Tyrrhenian Sea where the Sirens were.

Once they had been nymphs and had tended Persephone before she
was carried off by Aidoneus to be his queen in the Underworld.
Kind they had been, but now they were changed, and they cared
only for the destruction of men.

All set around with rocks was the island where they were. As the
Argo came near, the Sirens, ever on the watch to draw mariners to
their destruction, saw them and came to the rocks and sang to
them, holding each other's hands.

They sang all together their lulling song. That song made the
wearied voyagers long to let their oars go with the waves, and
drift, drift to where the Sirens were. Bending down to them the
Sirens, with soft hands and white arms, would lift them to soft
resting places. Then each of the Sirens sang a clear, piercing
song that called to each of the voyagers. Each man thought that
his own name was in that song. "O how well it is that you have
come near," each one sang, "how well it is that you have come
near where I have awaited you, having all delight prepared for
you!"

Orpheus took up his lyre as the Sirens began to sing. He sang to
the heroes of their own toils. He sang of them, how, gaunt and
weary as they were, they were yet men, men who were the strength
of Greece, men who had been fostered by the love and hope of
their country. They were the winners of the Golden Fleece and
their story would be told forever. And for the fame that they had
won men would forego all rest and all delight. Why should they
not toil, they who were born for great labors and to face dangers
that other men might not face? Soon hands would be stretched out
to them--the welcoming hands of the men and women of their own
land.

So Orpheus sang, and his voice and the music of his lyre
prevailed above the Sirens' voices. Men dropped their oars, but
other men remained at their benches, and pulled steadily, if
wearily, on. Only one of the Argonauts, Butes, a youth of Iolcus,
threw himself into the water and swam toward the rocks from which
the Sirens sang.

But an anguish that nearly parted their spirits from their bodies
was upon them as they went wearily on. Toward the end of the day
they beheld another island--an island that seemed very fair; they
longed to land and rest themselves there and eat the fruits of
the island. But Orpheus would not have them land. The island, he
said, was Thrinacia. Upon that island the Cattle of the Sun
pastured, and if one of the cattle perished through them their
return home might not be won. They heard the lowing of the cattle
through the mist, and a deep longing for the sight of their own
fields, with a white house near, and flocks and herds at pasture,
came over the heroes. They came near the Island of Thrinacia, and
they saw the Cattle of the Sun feeding by the meadow streams; not
one of them was black; all were white as milk, and the horns upon
their heads were golden. They saw the two nymphs who herded the
kine--Phaethusa and Lampetia, one with a staff of silver and the
other with a staff of gold.

Driven by the breeze that came over the Thrinacian Sea the
Argonauts came to the land of the Phaeacians. It was a good land
as they saw when they drew near; a land of orchards and fresh
pastures, with a white and sun-lit city upon the height. Their
spirits came back to them as they drew into the harbor; they made
fast the hawsers, and they went upon the ways of the city.

And then they saw everywhere around them the dark faces of
Colchian soldiers. These were the men of King ,Eetes, and they
had come overland to the Phaeacian city, hoping to cut off the
Argonauts. Jason, when he saw the soldiers, shouted to those who
had been left on the Argo, and they drew out of the harbor,
fearful lest the Colchians should grapple with the ship and wrest
from them the Fleece of Gold. Then Jason made an encampment upon
the shore, and the captain of the Colchians went here and there,
gathering together his men.

Medea left Jason's side and hastened through the city. To the
palace of Alcinous, king of the Phaeacians, she went. Within the
palace she found Arete, the queen. And Arete was sitting by her
hearth, spinning golden and silver threads.

Arete was young at that time, as young as Medea, and as yet no
child had been born to her. But she had the clear eyes of one who
understands, and who knows how to order things well. Stately,
too, was Arete, for she had been reared in the house of a great
king. Medea came to her, and fell upon her knees before her, and
told her how she had fled from the house of her father, King
Aeetes.

She told Arete, too, how she had helped Jason to win the Golden
Fleece, and she told her how through her her brother had been led
to his death. As she told this part of her story she wept and
prayed at the knees of the queen.

Arete was greatly moved by Medea's tears and prayers. She went to
Alcinous in his garden, and she begged of him to save the
Argonauts from the great force of the Colchians that had come to
cut them off. "The Golden Fleece," said Arete, "has been won by
the tasks that Jason performed. If the Colchians should take
Medea, it would be to bring her back to Aea and to a bitter doom.
And the maiden," said the queen, "has broken my heart by her
prayers and tears."

King Alcinous said: "Aeetes is strong, and although his kingdom
is far from ours, he can bring war upon us." But still Arete
pleaded with him to protect Medea from the Colchians. Alcinous
went within; he raised up Medea from where she crouched on the
floor of the palace, and he promised her that the Argonauts would
be protected in his city.

Then the king mounted his chariot; Medea went with him, and they
came down to the seashore where the heroes had made their
encampment. The Argonauts and the Colchians were drawn up against
each other, and the Colchians far outnumbered the wearied heroes.

Alcinous drove his chariot between the two armies. The Colchians
prayed him to have the strangers make surrender to them. But the
king drove his chariot to where the heroes stood, and he took the
hand of each, and received them as his guests. Then the Colchians
knew that they might not make war upon the heroes. They drew off.
The next day they marched away.

It was a rich land that they had come to. Once Aristaeus dwelt
there, the king who discovered how to make bees store up their
honey for men and how to make the good olive grow. Macris, his
daughter, tended Dionysus, the son of Zeus, when Hermes brought
him of the flame, and moistened his lips with honey. She tended
him in a cave in the Phaeacian land, and ever afterward the
Phaeacians were blessed with all good things.

Now as the heroes marched to the palace of King Alcinous the
people came to meet them, bringing them sheep and calves and jars
of wine and honey. The women brought them fresh garments; to
Medea they gave fine linen and golden ornaments.

Amongst the Phaeacians who loved music and games and the telling
of stories the heroes stayed for long. There were dances, and to
the Phaeacians who honored him as a god, Orpheus played upon his
lyre. And every day, for the seven days that they stayed amongst
them, the Phaeacians brought rich presents to the heroes.

And Medea, looking into the clear eyes of Queen Arete, knew
that she was the woman of whom Circe had prophesied, the woman
who knew nothing of enchantments, but who had much human wisdom.
She was to ask of her what she was to do in her life and what she
was to leave undone. And what this woman told her Medea was tó
regard. Arete told her that she was to forget all the witcheries
and enchantments that she knew, and that she was never to
practice against the life of any one. This she told Medea upon
the shore, before Jason lifted her aboard the Argo.



VII. They Come to the Desert Land

And now with sail spread wide the Argo went on, and the heroes
rested at the oars. The wind grew stronger. It became a great
blast, and for nine days and nine nights the ship was driven
fearfully along.

The blast drove them into the Gulf of Libya, from whence there is
no return for ships. On each side of the gulf there are rocks and
shoals, and the sea runs toward the limitless sand. On the top of
a mighty tide the Argo was lifted, and she was flung high up on
the desert sands.

A flood tide such as might not come again for long left the
Argonauts on the empty Libyan land. And when they came forth and
saw that vast level of sand stretching like a mist away into the
distance, a deadly fear came over each of them. No spring of
water could they descry; no path; no herdsman's cabin; over all
that vast land there was silence and dead calm. And one said to
the other: "What land is this? Whither have we come? Would that
the tempest had overwhelmed us, or would that we had lost the
ship and our lives between the Clashing Rocks at the time when we
were making our way into the Sea of Pontus."

And the helmsman, looking before him, said with a breaking heart:
"Out of this we may not come, even should the breeze blow from
the land, for all around us are shoals and sharp rocks--rocks
that we can see fretting the water, line upon line. Our ship
would have been shattered far from the shore if the tide had not
borne her far up on the sand. But now the tide rushes back toward
the sea, leaving only foam on which no ship can sail to cover the
sand. And so all hope of our return is cut off."

He spoke with tears flowing upon his cheeks, and all who had
knowledge of ships agreed with what the helmsman had said. No
dangers that they had been through were as terrible as this.
Hopelessly, like lifeless specters, the heroes strayed about the
endless strand.

They embraced each other and they said farewell as they laid down
upon the sand that might blow upon them and overwhelm them in the
night. They wrapped their heads in their cloaks, and, fasting,
they laid themselves down.

Jason crouched beside the ship, so troubled that his life nearly
went from him. He saw Medea huddled against a rock and with her
hair streaming on the sand. He saw the men who, with all the
bravery of their lives, had come with him, stretched on the
desert sand, weary and without hope. He thought that they, the
best of men, might die in this desert with their deeds all
unknown; he thought that he might never win home with Medea, to
make her his queen in Iolcus.

He lay against the side of the ship, his cloak wrapped around his
head. And there death would have come to him and to the others if
the nymphs of the desert had been unmindful of these brave men.
They came to Jason. It was midday then, and the fierce rays of
the sun were scorching all Libya. They drew off the cloak that
wrapped his head; they stood near him, three nymphs girded around
with goatskins.

"Why art thou so smitten with despair?" the nymphs said to Jason.
"Why art thou smitten with despair, thou who hast wrought so much
and hast won so much? Up! Arouse thy comrades! We are the
solitary nymphs, the warders of the land of Libya, and we have
come to show a way of escape to you, the Argonauts.

"Look around and watch for the time when Poseidon's great horse
shall be unloosed. Then make ready to pay recompense to the
mother that bore you all. What she did for you all, that you all
must do for her; by doing it you will win back to the land of
Greece." Jason heard them say these words and then he saw them no
more; the nymphs vanished amongst the desert mounds.

Then Jason rose up. He did not know what to make out of what had
been told him, but there was courage now and hope in his heart.
He shouted; his voice was like the roar of a lion calling to his
mate. At his shout his comrades roused themselves; all squalid
with the dust of the desert the Argonauts stood around him.

"Listen, comrades, to me," Jason said, "while I speak of a
strange thing that has befallen me. While I lay by the side of
our ship three nymphs came before me. With light hands they drew
away the cloak that wrapped my head. They declared themselves to
be the solitary nymphs, the warders, of Libya. Very strange were
the words they said to me. When Poseidon's great horse shall be
unloosed, they said, we were to make the mother of us all a
recompense, doing for her what she had done for us all. This the
nymphs told me to say, but I cannot understand the meaning of
their words."

There were some there who would not have given heed to Jason's
words, deeming them words without meaning. But even as he spoke a
wonder came before their eyes. Out of the far-off sea a great
horse leaped. Vast he was of size and he had a golden mane. He
shook the spray of the sea off his sides and mane. Past them he
trampled and away toward the horizon, leaving great tracks in the
sand.

Then Nestor spoke rejoicingly. "Behold the great horse! It is the
horse that the desert nymphs spoke of, Poseidon's horse. Even now
has the horse been unloosed, and now is the time to do what the
nymphs bade us do.

"Who but Argo is the mother of us all? She has carried us. Now we
must make her a recompense and carry her even as she carried us.
With untiring shoulders we must bear Argo across this great
desert.

"And whither shall we bear her? Whither but along the tracks that
Poseidon's horse has left in the sand! Poseidon's horse will not
go under the earth--once again he will plunge into the sea! "

So Nestor said and the Argonauts saw truth in his saying. Hope
came to them again--the hope of leaving that desert and coming to
the sea. Surely when they came to the sea again, and spread the
sail and held the oars in their hands, their sacred ship would
make swift course to their native land!



VIII. The Carrying of the Argo

With the terrible weight of the ship upon their shoulders the
Argonauts made their way across the desert, following the tracks
of Poseidon's golden-maned horse. Like a rounded serpent that
drags with pain its length along, they went day after day across
that limitless land.

A day came when they saw the great tracks of the horse
no more. A wind had come up and had covered them with sand. With
the mighty weight of the ship upon their shoulders, with the sun
beating upon their heads, and with no marks on the desert to
guide them, the heroes stood there, and it seemed to them that
the blood must gush up and out of their hearts.

Then Zetes and Calais, sons of the North Wind, rose up upon their
wings to strive to get sight of the sea. Up, up, they soared. And
then as a man sees, or thinks he sees, at the month's beginning,
the moon through a bank of clouds, Zetes and Calais, looking over
the measureless land, saw the gleam of water. They shouted to the
Argonauts; they marked the way for them, and wearily, but with
good hearts, the heroes went upon the way.

They came at last to the shore of what seemed to be a wide inland
sea. They set Argo down from off their over-wearied shoulders and
they let her keel take water once more.

All salt and brackish was that water; they dipped their hands
into and tasted the salt. Orpheus was able to name the water they
had come to; it was that lake that was called after Triton, the
son of Nereus, the ancient one of the sea. They set up an altar
and they made sacrifices in thanksgiving to the gods.

They had come to water at last, but now they had to seek for
other water--for the sweet water that they could drink. All
around them they looked, but they saw no sign of a spring. And
then they felt a wind blow upon them--a wind that had in it not
the dust of the desert but the fragrance of growing things.
Toward where that wind blew from they went.

As they went on they saw a great shape against the sky; they saw
mountainous shoulders bowed. Orpheus bade them halt and turn
their faces with reverence toward that great shape: for this was
Atlas the Titan, the brother of Prometheus, who stood there to
hold up the sky on his shoulders.

Then they were near the place that the fragrance had blown from:
there was a garden there; the only fence that ran around it was a
lattice of silver. "Surely there are springs in the garden," the
Argonauts said. "We will enter this fair garden now and slake our
thirst."

Orpheus bade them walk reverently, for all around them, he said,
was sacred ground. This garden was the Garden of the Hesperides
that was watched over by the Daughters of the Evening Land. The
Argonauts looked through the silver lattice; they saw trees with
lovely fruit, and they saw three maidens moving through the
garden with watchful eyes. In this garden grew the tree that had
the golden apples that Zeus gave to Hera as a wedding gift.

They saw the tree on which the golden apples grew. The maidens
went to it and then looked watchfully all around them. They saw
the faces of the Argonauts looking through the silver lattice and
they cried out, one to the other, and they joined their hands
around the tree.

But Orpheus called to them, and the maidens understood the divine
speech of Orpheus. He made the Daughters of the Evening Land know
that they who stood before the lattice were men who reverenced
the gods, who would not strive to enter the forbidden garden. The
maidens came toward them. Beautiful as the singing of Orpheus was
their utterance, but what they said was a complaint and a lament.

Their lament was for the dragon Ladon, that dragon with a hundred
heads that guarded sleeplessly the tree that had the golden
apples. Now that dragon was slain. With arrows that had been
dipped in the poison of the Hydra's blood their dragon, Ladon,
had been slain.

The Daughters of the Evening Land sang of how a mortal had come
into the garden that they watched over. He had a great bow, and
with his arrow he slew the dragon that guarded the golden apples.
The golden apples he had taken away; they had come back to the
tree they had been plucked from, for no mortal might keep them in
his possession. So the maidens sang Hespere, Eretheis, and
Aegle--and they complained that now, unhelped by the
hundred-headed dragon, they had to keep guard over the tree.

The Argonauts knew of whom they told the tale--Heracles, their
comrade. Would that Heracles were with them now!

The Hesperides told them of Heracles--of how the springs in the
garden dried up because of his plucking the golden apples. He
came out of the garden thirsting. Nowhere could he find a spring
of water. To yonder great rock he went. He smote it with his foot
and water came out in full floe.. Then he, leaning on his hands
and with his chest upon the ground, drank and drank from the
water that flowed from the rifted rock.

The Argonauts looked to where the rock stood. They caught the
sound of water. They carried Medea over. And then, company after
company, all huddled together, they stooped down and drank their
fill of the clear good water. With lips wet with the water they
cried to each other, "Heracles! Although he is not with us, in
very truth Heracles has saved his comrades from deadly thirst!"

They saw his footsteps printed upon the rocks, and they followed
them until they led to the sand where no footsteps stay.
Heracles! How glad his comrades would have been if they could
have had sight of him then! But it was long ago before he had
sailed with them--that Heracles had been here.

Still hearing their complaint they turned back to the lattice, to
where the Daughters of the Evening Land stood. The Daughters of
the Evening Land bent their heads to listen to what the Argonauts
told one another, and, seeing them bent to:listen, Orpheus told a
story about one who had gone across the Libyan desert, about one
who was a hero like unto Heracles.



THE STORY OF PERSEUS

Beyond where Atlas stands there is a cave where the strange
women, the ancient daughters of Phorcys, live. They have been
gray from their birth. They have but one eye and one tooth
between them, and they pass the eye and the tooth, one to the
other, when they would see or eat. They are called the Graiai,
these two sisters.

Up to the cave where they lived a youth once came. He was
beardless, and the garb he wore was torn and travel-stained, but
he had shapeliness and beauty. In his leathern belt there

was an exceedingly bright sword; this sword was not straight like
the swords we carry, but it was hooked like a sickle. The strange
youth with the bright, strange sword came very quickly and very
silently up to the cave where the Graiai lived and looked over a
high boulder into it.

One was sitting munching acorns with the single tooth. The other
had the eye in her hand. She was holding it to her forehead and
looking into the back of the cave. These two ancient women, with
their gray hair falling over them like thick fleeces, and with
faces that were only forehead and cheeks and nose and mouth, were
strange creatures truly. Very silently the youth stood looking at
them.

"Sister, sister," cried the one who was munching acorns, "sister,
turn your eye this way. I heard the stir of something."

The other turned, and with the eye placed against her forehead
looked out to the opening of the cave. The youth drew back behind
the boulder. "Sister, sister, there is nothing there," said the
one with the eye.

Then she said: "Sister, give me the tooth for I would eat my
acorns. Take the eye and keep watch."

The one who was eating held out the tooth, and the one who was
watching held out the eye. The youth darted into the cave.
Standing between the eyeless sisters, he took with one hand the
tooth and with the other the eye.

"Sister, sister, have you taken the eye?"

"I have not taken the eye. Have you taken the tooth?"

"I have not taken the tooth."

"Some one has taken the eye, and some one has taken the tooth."

They stood together, and the youth watched their blinking faces
as they tried to discover who had come into the cave, and who had
taken the eye and the tooth.

Then they said, screaming together: "Who ever has taken the eye
and the tooth from the Graiai, the ancient daughters of Phorcys,
may Mother Night smother him."

The youth spoke. "Ancient daughters of Phorcys," he said,
"Graiai, I would not rob from you. I have come to your cave only
to ask the way to a place."

"Ah, it is a mortal, a mortal," screamed the sisters. "Well,
mortal, what would you have from the Graiai?"

"Ancient Graiai," said the youth, "I would have you tell me, for
you alone know, where the nymphs dwell who guard the three magic
treasures--the cap of darkness, the shoes of flight, and the
magic pouch."

"We will not tell you, we will not tell you that," screamed the
two ancient sisters.

"I will keep the eye and the tooth," said the youth, "and I will
give them to one who will help me."

"Give me the eye and I will tell you," said one. "Give me the
tooth and I will tell you," said the other. The youth put the eye
in the hand of one and the tooth in the hand of the other, but he
held their skinny hands in his strong hands until they should
tell him where the nymphs dwelt who guarded the magic treasures.
The Gray Ones told him. Then the youth with the bright sword left
the cave. As he went out he saw on the ground a shield of bronze,
and he took it with him.

To the other side of where Atlas stands he went. There he came
upon the nymphs in their valley. They had long dwelt there,
hidden from gods and men, and they were startled to see a
stranger youth come into their hidden valley. They fled away.
Then the youth sat on the ground, his head bent like a man who is
very sorrowful.

The youngest and the fairest of the nymphs came to him at last.
"Why have you come, and why do you sit here in such great
trouble, youth?" said she. And then she said: "What is this
strange sickle-sword that you wear? Who told you the way to our
dwelling place? What name have you?"

"I have come here," said the youth, and he took the bronze shield
upon his knees and began to polish it, "I have come here because
I want you, the nymphs who guard them, to give to me the cap of
darkness and the shoes of flight and the magic pouch. I must gain
these things; without them I must go to my death. Why I must gain
them you will know from my story."

When he said that he had come for the three magic treasures that
they guarded, the kind nymph was more startled than she and her
sisters had been startled by the appearance of the strange youth
in their hidden valley. She turned away from him. But she looked
again and she saw that he was beautiful and brave looking. He had
spoken of his death. The nymph stood looking at him pitifully,
and the youth, with the bronze shield laid beside his knees and
the strange hooked sword lying across it, told her his story.

"I am Perseus," he said, "and my grandfather, men say, is king in
Argos. His name is Acrisius. Before I was born a prophecy was
made to him that the son of Danae, his daughter, would slay him.
Acrisius was frightened by the prophecy, and when I was born he
put my mother and myself into a chest, and he sent us adrift upon
the waves of the sea.

"I did not know what a terrible peril I was in, for I was an
infant newly born. My mother was so hopeless that she came near
to death. But the wind and the waves did not destroy us: they
brought us to a shore; a shepherd found the chest, and he opened
it and brought my mother and myself out of it alive. The land we
had come to was Seriphus. The shepherd who found the chest and
who rescued my mother and myself was the brother of the king. His
name was Dictys.

"In the shepherd's wattled house my mother stayed with me, a
little infant, and in that house I grew from babyhood to
childhood, and from childhood to boyhood. He was a kind man, this
shepherd Dictys. His brother Polydectes had put him away from the
palace, but Dictys did not grieve for that, for he was happy
minding his sheep upon the hillside, and he was happy in his
little but of wattles and clay.

"Polydectes, the king, was seldom spoken to about his brother,
and it was years before he knew of the mother and child who had
been brought to live in Dictys's hut. But at last he heard of us,
for strange things began to be said about my mother--how she was
beautiful, and how she looked like one who had been favored by
the gods. Then one day when he was hurting, Polydectes the king
came to the but of Dictys the shepherd.

"He saw Danae, my mother, there. By her looks he knew that she
was a king's daughter and one who had been favored by the gods.
He wanted her for his wife. But my mother hated this harsh and
overbearing king, and she would not wed with him. Often he came
storming around the shepherd's hut, and at last my mother had to
take refuge from him in a temple. There she became the priestess
of the goddess.

"I was taken to the palace of Polydectes, and there I was brought
up. The king still stormed around where my mother was, more and
more bent on making her marry him. If she had not been in the
temple where she was under the protection of the goddess he would
have wed her against her will.

"But I was growing up now, and I was able to give some protection
to my mother. My arm was a strong one, and Polydectes knew that
if he wronged my mother in any way, I had the will and the power
to be deadly to him. One day I heard him say before his princes
and his lords that he would wed, and would wed one who was not
Danae, I was overjoyed to hear him say this. He asked the lords
and the princes to come to the wedding feast; they declared they
would, and they told him of the presents they would bring.

"Then King Polydectes turned to me and he asked me to come to the
wedding feast. I said I would come. And then, because I was young
and full of the boast of youth, and because the king was now
ceasing to be a terror to me, I said that I would bring to his
wedding feast the head of the Gorgon.

"The king smiled when he heard me say this, but he smiled not as
a good man smiles when he hears the boast of youth. He smiled,
and he turned to the princes and lords, and he said 'Perseus will
come, and he will bring a greater gift than any of you, for he
will bring the head of her whose gaze turns living creatures into
stone.'

"When I heard the king speak so grimly about my boast the
fearfulness of the thing I had spoken of doing came over me. I
thought for an instant that the Gorgon's head appeared before me,
and that I was then and there turned into stone.

"The day of the wedding feast came. I came and I brought no gift.
I stood with my head hanging for shame. Then the princes and the
lords came forward, and they showed the great gifts of horses
that they had brought. I thought that the king would forget about
me and about my boast. And then I heard him call my name.
'Perseus,' he said, 'Perseus, bring before us now the Gorgon's
head that, as you told us, you would bring for the wedding gift.'

"The princes and lords and people looked toward me, and I was
fiIled with a deeper shame. I had to say that I had failed to
bring a present. Then that harsh and overbearing king shouted at
me. 'Go forth,' he said, 'go forth and fetch the present that you
spoke of. If you do not bring it remain forever out of my
country, for in Seriphus we will have no empty boasters.' The
lords and the princes applauded what the king said; the people
were sad for me and sad for my mother, but they might not do
anything to help me, so just and so due to me did the words of
the king seem. There was no help for it, and I had to go from the
country of Seriphus, leaving my mother at the mercy of
Polydectes.

"I bade good-by to my sorrowful mother and I went from Seriphus--
from that land that I might not return to without the Gorgon's
head. I traveled far from that country. One day I sat down in a
lonely place and prayed to the gods that my strength might be
equal to the will that now moved in me--the will to take the
Gorgon's head, and take from my name the shame of a broken
promise, and win back to Seriphus to save my mother from the
harshness of the king.

"When I looked up I saw one standing before me. He was a youth,
too, but I knew by the way he moved, and I knew by the brightness
of his face and eyes, that he was of the immortals. I raised my
hands in homage to him, and he came near me. 'Perseus,' he said,
'if you have the courage to strive, the way to win the Gorgon's
head will be shown you.' I said that I had the courage to strive,
and he knew that I was making no boast.

"He gave me this bright sickle-sword that I carry. He told me by
what ways I might come near enough to the Gorgons without being
turned into stone by their gaze. He told me how I might slay the
one of the three Gorgons who was not immortal, and how, having
slain her, I might take her head and flee without being torn to
pieces by her sister Gorgons.

"Then I knew that I should have to come on the Gorgons from the
air. I knew that having slain the one that could be slain I
should have to fly with the speed of the wind. And I knew that
that speed even would not save me--I should have to be hidden in
my flight. To win the head and save myself I would need three
magic things--the shoes of flight and the magic pouch, and the
dogskin cap of Hades that makes its wearer invisible.

"The youth said: 'The magic pouch and the shoes of flight and the
dogskin cap of Hades are in the keeping of the nymphs whose
dwelling place no mortal knows. I may not tell you where their
dwelling place is. But from the Gray Ones, from the ancient
daughters of Phorcys who live in a cave near where Atlas stands,
you may learn where their dwelling place is.'

"Thereupon he told me how I might come to the Graiai, and how I
might get them to tell me where you, the nymphs, had your
dwelling. The one who spoke to me was Hermes, whose dwelling is
on Olympus. By this sickle-sword that he gave me you will know
that I speak the truth."

Perseus ceased speaking, and she who was the youngest and fairest
of the nymphs came nearer to him. She knew that he spoke
truthfully, and besides she had pity for the youth. "But we are
the keepers of the magic treasures," she said, "and some one
whose need is greater even than yours may some time require them
from us. But will you swear that you will bring the magic
treasures back to us when you have slain the Gorgon and have
taken her head?"

Perseus declared that he would bring the magic treasures back to
the nymphs and leave them once more in their keeping. Then the
nymph who had compassion for him called to the others. They spoke
together while Perseus stayed far away from them, polishing his
shield of bronze. At last the nymph who had listened to him came
back, the others following her. They brought to Perseus and they
put into his hands the things they had guarded--the cap made from
dogskin that had been brought up out of Hades, a pair of winged
shoes, and a long pouch that he could hang across his shoulder.

And so with the shoes of flight and the cap of darkness and the
magic pouch, Perseus went to seek the Gorgons. The sickle-sword
that Hermes gave him was at his side, and on his arm he held the
bronze shield that was now well polished.

He went through the air, taking a way that the nymphs had shown
him. He came to Oceanus that was the rim around the world. He saw
forms that were of living creatures all in stone, and he knew
that he was near the place where the Gorgons had their lair.

Then, looking upon the surface of his polished shield, he saw the
Gorgons below him. Two were covered with hard serpent scales;
they had tusks that were long and were like the tusks of boars,
and they had hands of gleaming brass and wings of shining gold.
Still looking upon the shining surface of his shield Perseus went
down and down. He saw the third sister--she who was not immortal.
She had a woman's face and form, and her countenance was
beautiful, although there was something deadly in its fairness.
The two scaled and winged sisters were asleep, but the third,
Medusa, was awake, and she was tearing with her hands a lizard
that had come near her.

Upon her head was a tangle of serpents all with heads raised as
though they were hissing. Still looking into the mirror of his
shield Perseus came down and over Medusa. He turned his head away
from her. Then, with a sweep of the sicklesword he took her head
off. There was no scream from the Gorgon, but the serpents upon
her head hissed loudly.

Still with his face turned from it he lifted up the head by its
tangle of serpents. He put it into the magic pouch. He rose up in
the air. But now the Gorgon sisters were awake. They had heard
the hiss of Medusa's serpents, and now they looked upon her
headless body. They rose up on their golden wings, and their
brazen hands were stretched out to tear the one who had slain
Medusa. As they flew after him they screamed aloud.

Although he flew like the wind the Gorgon sisters would have
overtaken him if he had been plain to their eyes. But the dogskin
cap of Hades saved him, for the Gorgon sisters did not know
whether he was above or below them, behind or before them. On
Perseus went, flying toward where Atlas stood. He flew over this
place, over Libya. Drops of blood from Medusa's head fell down
upon the desert. They were changed and became the deadly serpents
that are on these sands and around these rocks. On and on Perseus
flew toward Atlas and toward the hidden valley where the nymphs
who were again to guard the magic treasures had their dwelling
place. But before he came to the nymphs Perseus had another
adventure.

In Ethopia, which is at the other side of Libya, there ruled a
king whose name was Cepheus. This king had permitted his queen to
boast that she was more beautiful than the nymphs of the sea. In
punishment for the queen's impiety and for the king's folly
Poseidon sent a monster out of the sea to waste that country.
Every year the monster came, destroying more and more of the
country of Ethopia. Then the king asked of an oracle what he
should do to save his land and his people. The oracle spoke of a
dreadful thing that he would have to do--he would have to
sacrifice his daughter, the beautiful Princess Andromeda.

The king was forced by his savage people to take the maiden
Andromeda and chain her to a rock on the seashore, leaving her
there for the monster to devour her, satisfying himself with that
prey.

Perseus, flying near, heard the maiden's laments. He saw her
lovely body bound with chains to the rock. He came near her,
taking the cap of darkness off his head. She saw him, and she
bent her head in shame, for she thought that he would think that
it was for some dreadful fault of her own that she had been left
chained in that place.

Her father had stayed near. Perseus saw him, and called to him,
and bade him tell why the maiden was chained to the rock. The
king told Perseus of the sacrifice that he had been forced to
make. Then Perseus came near the maiden, and he saw how she
looked at him with pleading eyes.

Then Perseus made her father promise that he would give
Andromeda to him for his wife if he should slay the sea monster.
Gladly Cepheus promised this. Then Perseus once again drew his
sickle-sword; by the rock to which Andromeda was still chained he
waited for sight of the sea monster.

It came rolling in from the open sea, a shapeless and unsightly
thing. With the shoes of flight upon his feet Perseus rose above
it. The monster saw his shadow upon the water, and savagely it
went to attack the shadow. Perseus swooped down as an eagle
swoops down; with his sickle-sword he attacked it, and he struck
the hook through the monster's shoulder. Terribly it reared up
from the sea. Perseus rose over it, escaping its wide-opened
mouth with its treble rows of fangs. Again he swooped and struck
at it. Its hide was covered all over with hard scales and with
the shells of sea things, but Perseus's sword struck through it.
It reared up again, spouting water mixed with blood. On a rock
near the rock that Andromeda was chained to Perseus alighted. The
monster, seeing him, bellowed and rushed swiftly through the
water to overwhelm him. As it reared up he plunged the sword
again and again into its body. Down into the water the monster
sank, and water mixed with blood was spouted up from the depths
into which it sank.

Then was Andromeda loosed from her chains. Perseus, the
conqueror, lifted up the fainting maiden and carried her back to
the king's palace. And Cepheus there renewed his promise to give
her in marriage to her deliverer.

Perseus went on his way. He came to the hidden valley where the
nymphs had their dwelling place, and he restored to them the
three magic treasures that they had given him--the cap of
darkness, the shoes of flight, and the magic pouch. And these
treasures are still there, and the hero who can win his way to
the nymphs may have them as Perseus had them.

Again he returned to the place where he had found Andromeda
chained. With face averted he drew forth the Gorgon's head from
where he had hidden it between the rocks. He made a bag for it
out of the horny skin of the monster he had slain. Then, carrying
his tremendous trophy, he went to the palace of King Cepheus to
claim his bride.

Now before her father had thought of sacrificing her to the sea
monster he had offered Andromeda in marriage to a prince of
Ethopia--to a prince whose name was Phineus. Phineus did not
strive to save Andromeda. But, hearing that she had been
delivered from the monster, he came to take her for his wife; he
came to Cepheus's palace, and he brought with him a thousand
armed men.

The palace of Cepheus was filled with armed men when Perseus
entered it. He saw Andromeda on a raised place in the hall. She
was pale as when she was chained to the rock, and when she saw
him in the palace she uttered a cry of gladness.

Cepheus, the craven king, would have let him who had come with
the armed bands take the maiden. Perseus came beside Andromeda
and he made his claim. Phineus spoke insolently to him, and then
he urged one of his captains to strike Perseus down. Many sprang
forward to attack him. Out of the bag Perseus drew Medusa's head.
He held it before those who were bringing strife into the hall.
They were turned to stone. One of Cepheus's men wished to defend
Perseus: he struck at the captain who had come near; his sword
made a clanging sound as it struck this one who had looked upon
Medusa's head.

Perseus went from the land of Ethopia taking fair Andromeda with
him. They went into Greece, for he had thought of going to Argos,
to the country that his grandfather ruled over. At this very time
Acrisius got tidings of Danae, and her son, and he knew that they
had not perished on the waves of the sea. Fearful of the prophecy
that told he would be slain by his grandson and fearing that he
would come to Argos to seek him, Acrisius fled out of his
country.

He came into Thessaly. Perseus and Andromeda were there. Now, one
day the old king was brought to games that were being celebrated
in honor of a dead hero. He was leaning on his staff, watching a
youth throw a metal disk, when something in that youth's
appearance made him want to watch him more closely. About him
there was something of a being of the upper air; it made Acrisius
think of a brazen tower and of a daughter whom he had shut up
there.

He moved so that he might come nearer to the disk-thrower. But as
he left where he had been standing he came into the line of the
thrown disk. It struck the old man on the temple. He fell down
dead, and as he fell the people cried out his name--"Acrisius,
King Acrisius!" Then Perseus knew whom the disk, thrown by his
hand, had slain.

And because he had slain the king by chance Perseus would not go
to Argos, nor take over the kingdom that his grandfather had
reigned over. With Andromeda he went to Seriphus where his mother
was. And in Seriphus there still reigned Polydectes,who had put
upon him the terrible task of winning the Gorgon's head.

He came to Seriphus and he left Andromeda in the but of Dictys
the shepherd. No one knew him; he heard his name spoken of as
that of a youth who had gone on a foolish quest and who would
never again be heard of. To the temple where his mother was a
priestess he came. Guards were placed all around it. Ile heard
his mother's voice and it was raised in lament: "Walled up here
and given over to hunger I shall be made go to Polydectes's house
and become his wife. O ye gods, have ye no pity for Danae, the
mother of Perseus?"

Perseus cried aloud, and his mother heard his voice and her moans
ceased. He turned around and he went to the palace of Polydectes,
the king.

The king received him with mockeries. "I will let you stay in
Seriphus for a day," he said, "because I would have you at a
marriage feast. I have vowed that Danae, taken from the temple
where she sulks, will be my wife by to-morrow's sunset."

So Polydectes said, and the lords and princes who were around him
mocked at Perseus and flattered the king. Perseus went from them
then. The next day he came back to the palace. But in his hands
now there was a dread thing--the bag made from the hide of the
sea monster that had in it the Gorgon's head.

He saw his mother. She was brought in white and fainting,
thinking that she would now have to wed the harsh and overbearing
king. Then she saw her son, and hope came into her face.

The king seeing Perseus, said: "Step forward, O youngling, and
see your mother wed to a mighty man. Step forward to witness a
marriage, and then depart, for it is not right that a youth that
makes promises and does not keep them should stay in a land that
I rule over. Step forward now, you with the empty hands."

But not with empty hands did Perseus step forward. He shouted
out: "I have brought something to you at last, O king--a present
to you and your mocking friends. But you, O my mother, and you, O
my friends, avert your faces from what I have brought." Saying
this Perseus drew out the Gorgon's head. Holding it by the snaky
locks he stood before the company. His mother and his friends
averted their faces. But Polydectes and his insolent friends
looked full upon what Perseus showed. "This youth would strive to
frighten us with some conjuror's trick," they said. They said no
more, for they became as stones, and as stone images they still
stand in that hall in Seriphus.

He went to the shepherd's hut, and he brought Dictys from it with
Andromeda. Dictys he made king in Polydectes's stead. Then with
Danae and Andromeda, his mother and his wife, he went from
Seriphus.

He did not go to Argos, the country that his grandfather had
ruled over, although the people there wanted Perseus to come to
them, and be king over them. He took the kingdom of Tiryns in
exchange for that of Argos, and there he lived with Andromeda,
his lovely wife out of Ethopia. They had a son named Perses who
became the parent of the Persian people.

The sickle-sword that had slain the Gorgon went back to Hermes,
and Hermes took Medusa's head also. That head Hermes's divine
sister set upon her shield-Medusa's head upon the shield of
Pallas Athene. O may Pallas Athene guard us all, and bring us out
of this land of sands and stone where are the deadly serpents
that have come from the drops of blood that fell from the
Gorgon's head!

They turned away from the Garden of the Daughters of the Evening
Land. The Argonauts turned from where the giant shape of Atlas
stood against the sky and they went toward the Tritonian Lake.
But not all of them reached the Argo. On his way back to the
ship, Nauplius, the helmsman, met his death.

A sluggish serpent was in his way--it was not a serpent that
would strike at one who turned from it. Nauplius trod upon it,
and the serpent lifted its head up and bit his foot. They raised
him on their shoulders and they hurried back with him. But his
limbs became numb, and when they laid him down on the shore of
the lake he stayed moveless. Soon he grew cold. They dug a grave
for Nauplius beside the lake, and in that desert land they set up
his helmsman's oar in the middle of his tomb of heaped stones.

And now like a snake that goes writhing this way and that way and
that cannot find the cleft in the rock that leads to its lair,
the Argo went hither and thither striving to find an outlet from
that lake. No outlet could they find and the way of their
homegoing seemed lost to them again. Then Orpheus prayed to the
son of Nereus, to Triton, whose name was on that lake, to aid
them.

Then Triton appeared. He stretched out his hand and showed them
the outlet to the sea. And Triton spoke in friendly wise to the
heroes, bidding them go upon their way in joy. "And as for
labor," he said, "let there be no grieving because of that, for
limbs that have youthful vigor should still toil."

They took up the oars and they pulled toward the sea, and Triton,
the friendly immortal, helped them on. He laid hold upon Argo's
keel and he guided her through the water. The Argonauts saw him
beneath the water; his body, from his head down to his waist, was
fair and great and like to the body of one of the other
immortals. But below his body was like a great fish's, forking
this way and that. He moved with fins that were like the horns of
the new moon. Triton helped Argo along until they came into the
open sea. Then he plunged down into the abyss. The heroes shouted
their thanks to him. Then they looked at each other and embraced
each other with joy, for the sea that touched upon the land of
Greece was open before them.



IX. Near to Iolcus Again

The sun sank; then that star came that bids the shepherd bring
his flock to the fold, that brings the wearied plowman to his
rest. But no rest did that star bring to the Argonauts. The
breeze that filled the sail died down; they furled the sail and
lowered the mast; then, once again, they pulled at the oars. All
night they rowed, and all day, and again when the next day came
on. Then they saw the island that is halfway to Greece the great
and fair island of Crete.

It was Theseus who first saw Crete--Theseus who was to come to
Crete upon another ship. They drew the Argo near the great
island; they wanted water, and they were fain to rest there.

Minos, the great king, ruled over Crete. He left the guarding of
the island to one of the race of bronze, to Talos, who had lived
on after the rest of the bronze men had been destroyed. Thrice a
day would Talos stride around the island; his brazen feet were
tireless.

Now Talos saw the Argo drawing near. He took up great rocks and
he hurled them at the heroes, and very quickly they had to draw
their ship out of range.

They were wearied and their thirst was consuming them. But still
that bronze man stood there ready to sink their ship with the
great rocks that he took up in his hands. Medea stood forward
upon the ship, ready to use her spells against the man of bronze.

In body and limbs he was made of bronze and in these he was
invulnerable. But beneath a sinew in his ankle there was a vein
that ran up to his neck and that was covered by a thin skin. If
that vein were broken Talos would perish.

Medea did not know about this vein when she stood forward upon
the ship to use her spells against him. Upon a cliff of Crete,
all gleaming, stood that huge man of bronze. Then, as she was
ready to fling her spells against him, Medea thought upon the
words that Arete, the wise queen, had given her that she was not
to use spells and not to practice against the life of any one.

But she knew that there was no impiety in using spells and
practicing against Talos, for Zeus had already doomed all his
race. She stood upon the ship, and with her Magic Song she
enchanted him. He whirled round and round. He struck his ankle
against a jutting stone. The vein broke, and that which was the
blood of the bronze man flowed out of him like molten lead. He
stood towering upon the cliff. Like a pine upon a mountaintop
that the woodman had left half hewn through and that a mighty
wind pitches against, Talos stood upon his tireless feet, swaying
to and fro. Then, emptied of all his strength, Minos's man of
bronze fell into the Cretan Sea.

The heroes landed. That night they lay upon the land of Crete and
rested and refreshed themselves. When dawn came they drew water
from a spring, and once more they went on board the Argo.

A day came when the helmsman said, "To-morrow we shall see the
shore of Thessaly, and by sunset we shall be in the harbor of
Pagasae. Soon, O voyagers, we shall be back in the city from
which we went to gain the Golden Fleece."

Then Jason brought Medea to the front of the ship so that they
might watch together for Thessaly, the homeland. The Mountain
Pelion came into sight. Jason exulted as he looked upon that
mountain; again he told Medea about Chiron, the ancient centaur,
and about the days of his youth in the forests of Pelion.

The Argo went on; the sun sank, and darkness came on. Never was
there darkness such as there was on that night. They called that
night afterward the Pall of Darkness. To the heroes upon the Argo
it seemed as if black chaos had come over the world again; they
knew not whether they were adrift upon the sea or upon the River
of Hades. No star pierced the darkness nor no beam from the moon.

After a night that seemed many nights the dawn came. In the
sunrise they saw the land of Thessaly with its mountain, its
forests, and its fields. They hailed each other as if they had
met after a long parting. They raised the mast and unfurled the
sail.

But not toward Pagasae did they go. For now the voice of Argo
came to them, shaking their hearts: Jason and Orpheus, Castor and
Polydeuces, Zetes and Calais, Peleus and Telamon, Theseus,
Admetus, Nestor, and Atalanta, heard the cry of their ship. And
the voice of Argo warned them not to go into the harbor of
Pagasae.

As they stood upon the ship, looking toward Iolcus, sorrow came
over all the heroes, such sorrow as made their hearts nearly
break. For long they stood there in utter numbness.

Then Admetus spoke--Admetus who was the happiest of all those who
went in quest of the Golden Fleece. "Although we may not go into
the harbor of Pagasae, nor into the city of Iolcus," Admetus
said, "still we have come to the land of Greece. There are other
harbors and other cities that we may go into. And in all the
places that we go to we will be honored, for we have gone through
toils and dangers, and we have brought to Greece the famous
Fleece of Gold."

So Admetus said, and their spirits came back again to the heroes
--came back to all of them save Jason. The rest had other cities
to go to, and fathers and mothers and friends to greet them in
other places, but for Jason there was only Iolcus.

Medea took his hand, and sorrow for him overcame her. For Medea
could divine what had happened in Iolcus and why it was that the
heroes might not go there.

It was to Corinth that the Argo went. Creon, the king of Corinth,
welcomed them and gave great honor to the heroes who had faced
such labors and such dangers to bring the world's wonder to
Greece.

The Argonauts stayed together until they went to Calydon, to hunt
the boar that ravaged Prince Meleagrus's country. After that they
separated, each one going to his own land. Jason came back to
Corinth where Medea stayed. And in Corinth he had tidings of the
happenings in Iolcus.

King Pelias now ruled more fearfully in Iolcus, having brought
down from the mountains more and fiercer soldiers. And Aeson,
Jason's father, and Alcimide, his mother, were now dead, having
been slain by King Pelias.

This Jason heard from men who came into Corinth from Thessaly.
And because of the great army that Pelias had gathered there,
Jason might not yet go into Iolcus, either to exact a vengeance,
or to show the people THE GOLDEN FLEECE that he had gone so far
to gain.



Part III. The Heroes of the Quest


I. ATALANTA THE HUNTRESS

I

They came once more together, the heroes of the quest, to hunt a
boar in Calydon--Jason and Peleus came, Telamon, Theseus, and
rough Arcas, Nestor and Helen's brothers Polydeuces and Castor.
And, most noted of all, there came the Arcadian huntress maid,
Atalanta.

Beautiful they all thought her when they knew her aboard the
Argo. But even more beautiful Atalanta seemed to the heroes when
she came amongst them in her hunting gear. Her lovely hair hung
in two bands across her shoulders, and over her breast hung an
ivory quiver filled with arrows. They said that her face with its
wide and steady eyes was maidenly for a boy's, and boyish for a
maiden's face. Swiftly she moved with her head held high, and
there was not one amongst the heroes who did not say, "Oh, happy
would that man be whom Atalanta the unwedded would take for her
husband!"

All the heroes said it, but the one who said it most feelingly
was the prince of Calydon, young Meleagrus. He more than the
other heroes felt the wonder of Atalanta's beauty.

Now the boar they had come to hunt was a monster boar. It had
come into Calydon and it was laying waste the fields and orchards
and destroying the people's cattle and horses. That boar had been
sent into Calydon by an angry divinity. For when Oeneus, the king
of the country, was making sacrifice to the gods in thanksgiving
for a bounteous harvest, he had neglected to make sacrifice to
the goddess of the wild things, Artemis. In her anger Artemis had
sent the monster boar to lay waste Oeneus's realm.

It was a monster boar indeed--one as huge as a bull, with tusks
as great as an elephant's; the bristles on its back stood up like
spear points, and the hot breath of the creature withered the
growth on the ground. The boar tore up the corn in the fields and
trampled down the vines with their clusters and heavy bunches of
grapes; also it rushed against the cattle and destroyed them in
the fields. And no hounds the huntsmen were able to bring could
stand before it. And so it came to pass that men had to leave
their farms and take refuge behind the walls of the city because
of the ravages of the boar. It was then that the rulers of
Calydon sent for the heroes of the quest to join with them in
hunting the monster.

Calydon itself sent Prince Meleagrus and his two uncles,
Plexippus and Toxeus. They were brothers to Meleagrus's mother,
Althaea. Now Althaea. was a woman who had sight to see mysterious
things, but who had also a wayward and passionate heart. Once,
after her son Meleagrus was born, she saw the three Fates sitting
by her hearth. They were spinning the threads of her son's life,
and as they spun they sang to each other, "An equal span of life
we give to the newborn child, and to the billet of wood that now
rests above the blaze of the fire." Hearing what the Fates sang
and understanding it Althaea had sprung up from her bed, had
seized the billet of wood, and had taken it out of the fire
before the flames had burnt into it.

That billet of wood lay in her chest, hidden away. And Meleagrus
nor any one else save Althaea. knew of it, nor knew that the
prince's life would last only for the space it would be kept from
the burning. On the day of the hunting he appeared as the
strongest and bravest of the youths of Calydon. And he knew not,
poor Meleagrus, that the love for Atalanta that had sprung into
his heart was to bring to the fire the billet of wood on which
his life depended.

II

As Atalanta went, the bow in her hands, Prince Meleagrus pressed
behind her. Then came Jason and Peleus, Telamon, Theseus and
Nestor. Behind them came Meleagrus's darkbrowed uncles, Plexippus
and Toxeus. They came to a forest that covered the side of a
mountain. Huntsmen had assembled here with hounds held in leashes
and with nets to hold the rushing quarry. And when they had all
gathered together they went through the forest on the track of
the monster boar.

It was easy to track the boar, for it had left a broad trail
through the forest. The heroes and the huntsmen pressed on. They
came to a marshy covert where the boar had its lair. There was a
thickness of osiers and willows and tall bullrushes, making a
place that it was hard for the hunters to go through.

They roused the boar with the blare of horns and it came rushing
out. Foam was on its tusks, and its eyes had in them the blaze of
fire. On the boar came, breaking down the thicket in its rush.
But the heroes stood steadily with the points of their spears
toward the monster.

The hounds were loosed from their leashes and they dashed toward
the boar. The boar slashed them with its tusks and trampled them
into the ground. Jason flung his spear. The spear went wide of
the mark. Another, Arcas, cast his, but the wood, not the point
of the spear, struck the boar, rousing it further. Then its eyes
flamed, and like a great stone shot from a catapult the boar
rushed on the huntsmen who were stationed to the right. In that
rush it flung two youths prone upon the ground.

Then might Nestor have missed his going to Troy and his part in
that story, for the boar swerved around and was upon him in an
instant. Using his spear as a leaping pole he vaulted upward and
caught the branches of a tree as the monster dashed the spear
down in its rush. In rage the beast tore at the trunk of the
tree. The heroes might have been scattered at this moment, for
Telamon had fallen, tripped by the roots of a tree, and Peleus
had had to throw himself upon him to pull him out of the way of
danger, if Polydeuces and Castor had not dashed up to their aid.
They came riding upon high white horses, spears in their hands.
The brothers cast their spears, but neither spear struck the
monster boar.

Then the boar turned and was for drawing back into the thicket.
They might have lost it then, for its retreat was impenetrable.
But before it got clear away Atalanta put an arrow to the string,
drew the bow to her shoulder, and let the arrow fly. It struck
the boar, and a patch of blood was seen upon its bristles. Prince
Meleagrus shouted out, "O first to strike the monster! Honor
indeed shall you receive for this, Arcadian maid."

His uncles were made wroth by this speech, as was another, the
Arcadian, rough Arcas. Arcas dashed forward, holding in his hands
a two-headed axe. "Heroes and huntsmen," he cried, "you shall see
how a man's strokes surpass a girl's." He faced the boar,
standing on tiptoe with his axe raised for the stroke.
Meleagrus's uncles shouted to encourage him. But the boar's tusks
tore him before Arcas's axe fell, and the Arcadian was trampled
upon the ground.

The boar, roused again by Atalanta's arrow, turned on the
hunters. Jason hurled a spear again. It swerved and struck a
hound and pinned it to the ground. Then, speaking the name of
Atalanta, Meleagrus sprang before the heroes and the huntsmen.
He had two spears in his hands. The first missed and stuck
quivering in the ground. But the second went right through the
back of the monster boar. It whirled round and round, spouting
out blood and foam. Meleagrus pressed on, and drove his hunting
knife through the shoulders of the monster.

His uncles, Plexippus and Toxeus, were the first to come to where
the monster boar was lying outstretched. "It is well, the deed
you have done, boy," said one; "it is well that none of the
strangers to our country slew the boar. Now will the head and
tusks of the monster adorn our hall, and men will know that the
arms of our house can well protect this land."

But one word only did Meleagrus say, and that word was the name,
"Atalanta." The maiden came and Meleagrus, his spear upon the
head, said, "Take, O fair Arcadian, the spoil of the chase. All
know that it was you who inflicted the first wound upon the
boar."

Plexippus and Toxeus tried to push him away, as if Meleagrus was
still a boy under their tutoring. He shouted to them to stand
off, and then he hacked out the terrible tusks and held them
toward Atalanta.

She would have taken them, for she, who had never looked lovingly
upon a youth, was moved by the beauty and the generosity of
Prince Meleagrus. She would have taken from him the spoil of the
chase. But as she held out her arms Meleagrus's uncles struck
them with the poles of their spears. Heavy marks were made on the
maiden's white arms. Madness then possessed Meleagrus, and he
took up his spear and thrust it, first into the body of Plexippus
and then into the body of Toxeus. His thrusts were terrible, for
he was filled with the fierceness of the hunt, and his uncles
fell down in death.

Then a great horror came over all the heroes. They raised up the
bodies of Plexippus and Toxeus and carried them on their spears
away from the place of the hunting and toward the temple of the
gods. Meleagrus crouched down upon the ground in horror of what
he had done. Atalanta stood beside him, her hand upon his head.

III

Althaea was in the temple making sacrifice to the gods. She saw
men come in carrying across their spears the bodies of two men.
She looked and she saw that the dead men were her two brothers,
Plexippus and Toxeus.

Then she beat her breast and she filled the temple with the cries
of her lamentation. "Who has slain my brothers? Who has slain my
brothers?" she kept crying out.

Then she was told that her son Meleagrus had slain her brothers.
She had no tears to shed then, and in a hard voice she asked,
"Why did my son slay Plexippus and Toxeus, his uncles?"

The one who was wroth with Atalanta, Arcas the Arcadian,
came to her and told her that her brothers had been slain because
of a quarrel about the girl Atalanta.

"My brothers have been slain because a girl bewitched my son;
then accursed be that son of mine," Althaea cried. She took off
the gold-fringed robe of a priestess, and she put on a black robe
of mourning.

Her brothers, the only sons of her father, had been slain, and
for the sake of a girl. The image of Atalanta came before her,
and she felt she could punish dreadfully her son. But her son was
not there to punish; he was far away, and the girl for whose sake
he had killed Plexippus and Toxeus was with him.

The rage she had went back into her heart and made her truly mad.
"I gave Meleagrus life when I might have let it go from him with
the burning billet of wood," she cried, "and now he has taken the
lives of my brothers." And then her thought went to the billet of
wood that was hidden in the chest.

Back to her house she went, and when she went within she saw a
fire of pine knots burning upon the hearth. As she looked upon
their burning a scorching pain went through her. But she went
from the hearth, nevertheless, and into the inner room. There
stood the chest that she had not opened for years. She opened it
now, and out of it she took the billet of wood that had on it the
mark of the burning.

She brought it to the hearth fire. Four times she went to throw
it into the fire, and four times she stayed her hand. The fire
was before her, but it was in her too. She saw the images of her
brothers lying dead, and, saying that he who had slain them
should lose his life, she threw the billet of wood into the fire
of pine knots.

Straightway it caught fire and began to burn. And Althaea cried,
"Let him die, my son, and let naught remain; let all perish with
my brothers, even the kingdom that Oeneus, my husband, founded."

Then she turned away and remained stiffly standing by the hearth,
the life withered up within her. Her daughters came and tried to
draw her away, but they could not--her two daughters, Gorge and
Deianira.

Meleagrus was crouching upon the ground with Atalanta watching
beside him. Now he stood up, and taking her hand he said, "Let me
go with you to the temple of the gods where I shall strive to
make atonement for the deed I have done to-day."

She went with him. But even as they came to the street of the
city a sharp and a burning pain seized upon Meleagrus. More and
more burning it grew, and weaker and weaker he became. He could
not have moved further if it had not been for the aid of
Atalanta. Jason and Peleus lifted him across the threshold and
carried him into the temple of the gods.

They laid him down with his head upon Atalanta's lap. The pain
within him grew fiercer and fiercer, but at last it died down as
the burning billet of wood sank down into the ashes. The heroes
of the quest stood around, all overcome with woe. In
the street they heard the lamentations for Plexippus and Toxeus,
for Prince Meleagrus, and for the passing of the kingdom founded
by Oeneus. Atalanta left the temple, and attended by the two
brothers on the white horses, Polydeuces and Castor, she went
back to Arcady.



II. PELEUS AND HIS BRIDE FROM THE SEA

I

Prince Peleus came on his ship to a bay on the coast of Thessaly.
His painted ship lay between two great rocks, and from its poop
he saw a sight that enchanted him. Out from the sea, riding on a
dolphin, came a lovely maiden. And by the radiance of her face
and limbs Peleus knew her for one of the immortal goddesses.

Now Peleus had borne himself so nobly in all things that he had
won the favor of the gods themselves. Zeus, who is highest
amongst the gods, had made this promise to Peleus he would honor
him as no one amongst the sons of men had been honored before,
for he would give him an immortal goddess to be his bride.

She who came out of the sea went into a cave that was overgrown
with vines and roses. Peleus looked into the cave and he saw her
sleeping upon skins of the beasts of the sea. His
heart was enchanted by the sight, and he knew that his life would
be broken if he did not see this goddess day after day. So he
went back to his ship and he prayed: "O Zeus, now I claim the
promise that you once made to me. Let it be that this goddess
come with me, or else plunge my ship and me beneath the waves of
the sea."

And when Peleus said this he looked over the land and the water
for a sign from Zeus.

Even then the goddess sleeping in the cave had dreams such as had
never before entered that peaceful resting place of hers. She
dreamt that she was drawn away from the deep and the wide sea.
She dreamt that she was brought to a place that was strange and
unfree to her. And as she lay in the cave, sleeping, tears that
might never come into the eyes of an immortal lay around her
heart.

But Peleus, standing on his painted ship, saw a rainbow touch
upon the sea. He knew by that sign that Iris, the messenger of
Zeus, had come down through the air. Then a strange sight came
before his eyes. Out of the sea rose the head of a man; wrinkled
and bearded it was, and the eyes were very old. Peleus knew that
he who was there before him was Nereus, the ancient one of the
sea.

Said old Nereus: "Thou hast prayed to Zeus, and I am here to
speak an answer to thy prayer. She whom you have looked upon is
Thetis, the goddess of the sea. Very loath will she be
to take Zeus's command and wed with thee. It is her desire to
remain in the sea, unwedded, and she has refused marriage even
with one of the immortal gods."

Then said Peleus, "Zeus promised me an immortal bride. If Thetis
may not be mine I cannot wed any other, goddess or mortal
maiden."

"Then thou thyself wilt have to master Thetis," said Nereus, the
wise one of the sea. "If she is mastered by thee, she cannot go
back to the sea. She will strive with all her strength and all
her wit to escape from thee; but thou must hold her no matter
what she does, and no matter how she shows herself. When thou
hast seen her again as thou didst see her at first, thou wilt
know that thou hast mastered her." And when he had said this to
Peleus, Nereus, the ancient one of the sea, went under the waves.

II


With his hero's heart beating more than ever it had beaten yet,
Peleus went into the cave. Kneeling beside her he looked down
upon the goddess. The dress she wore was like green and silver
mail. Her face and limbs were pearly, but through them came the
radiance that belongs to the immortals.

He touched the hair of the goddess of the sea, the yellow hair
that was so long that it might cover her all over. As he touched
her hair she started up, wakening suddenly out of her sleep. His
hands touched her hands and held them. Now he  knew that if he
should loose his hold upon her she would escape from him into the
depths of the sea, and that thereafter no command from the
immortals would bring her to him.

She changed into a white bird that strove to bear itself away.
Peleus held to its wings and struggled with the bird. She changed
and became a tree. Around the trunk of the tree Peleus clung. She
changed once more, and this time her form became terrible: a
spotted leopard she was now, with burning eyes; but Peleus held
to the neck of the fierce-appearing leopard and was not
affrighted by the burning eyes. Then she changed and became as he
had seen her first--a lovely maiden, with the brow of a goddess,
and with long yellow hair.

But now there was no radiance in her face or in her limbs. She
looked past Peleus, who held her, and out to the wide sea. "Who
is he," she cried, "who has been given this mastery over me? "

Then said the hero: "I am Peleus, and Zeus has given me the
mastery over thee. Wilt thou come with me, Thetis? Thou art my
bride, given me by him who is highest amongst the gods, and if
thou wilt come with me, thou wilt always be loved and reverenced
by me."

"Unwillingly I leave the sea," she cried, "unwillingly I go with
thee, Peleus."

But life in the sea was not for her any more now that she was
mastered. She went to Peleus's ship and she went to Phthia, his
country. And when the hero and the sea goddess were
wedded the immortal gods and goddesses came to their hall and
brought the bride and the bridegroom wondrous gifts. The three
sisters who are called the Fates came also. These wise and
ancient women said that the son born of the marriage of Peleus
and Thetis would be a man greater than Peleus himself.

III


Now although a son was born to her, and although this son had
something of the radiance of the immortals about him, Thetis
remained forlorn and estranged. Nothing that her husband did was
pleasing to her. Prince Peleus was in fear that the wildness of
the sea would break out in her, and that some great harm would be
wrought in his house.

One night he wakened suddenly. He saw the fire upon his hearth
and he saw a figure standing by the fire. It was Thetis, his
wife. The fire was blazing around something that she held in her
hands. And while she stood there she was singing to herself a
strange-sounding song.

And then he saw what Thetis held in her hands and what the fire
was blazing around; it was the child, Achilles.

Prince Peleus sprang from the bed and caught Thetis around the
waist and lifted her and the child away from the blazing fire. He
put them both upon the bed, and he took from her the child that
she held by the heel. His heart was wild within him, for the
thought that wildness had come over his wife, and  that she was
bent upon destroying their child. But Thetis looked on him from
under those goddess brows of hers and she said to him: "By the
divine power that I still possess I would have made the child
invulnerable; but the heel by which I held him has not been
endued by the fire and in that place some day he may be stricken.
All that the fire covered is invulnerable, and no weapon that
strikes there can destroy his life. His heel I cannot now make
invulnerable, for now the divine power is gone out of
me."

When she said this Thetis looked full upon her husband, and never
had she seemed so unforgiving as she was then. All the divine
radiance that had remained with her was gone from her now, and
she seemed a white-faced and bitter-thinking woman. And when
Peleus saw that such a great bitterness faced him he fled from
his house.

He traveled far from his own land, and first he went to the help
of Heracles, who was then in the midst of his mighty labors.
Heracles was building a wall around a city. Peleus labored,
helping him to raise the wall for King Laomedon. Then, one night,
as he walked by the wall he had helped to build, he heard voices
speaking out of the earth. And one voice said: "Why has Peleus
striven so hard to raise a wall that his son shall fight hard to
overthrow?" No voice replied. The wall was built, and Peleus
departed. The city around which the wall was built was the great
city of Troy.

In whatever place he went Peleus was followed by the hatred
of the people of the sea, and above all by the hatred of the
nymph who is called Psamathe. Far, far from his own country he
went, and at last he came to a country of bright valleys that was
ruled over by a kindly king--by Ceyx, who was called the Son of
the Morning Star.

Bright of face and kindly and peaceable in all his ways was this
king, and kindly and peaceable was the land that he ruled over.
And when Prince Peleus went to him to beg for his protection, and
to beg for unfurrowed fields where he might graze his cattle,
Ceyx raised him up from where he knelt. "Peaceable and plentiful
is the land," he said, "and all who come here may have peace and
a chance to earn their food. Live where you will, O stranger, and
take the unfurrowed fields by the seashore for pasture for your
cattle."

Peace came into Peleus's heart as he looked into the untroubled
face of Ceyx, and as he looked over the bright valleys of the
land he had come into. He brought his cattle to the unfurrowed
fields by the seashore and he left herdsmen there to tend them.
And as he walked along these bright valleys he thought upon his
wife and upon his son Achilles, and there were gentle feelings in
his breast. But then he thought upon the enmity of Psamathe, the
woman of the sea, and great trouble came over him again. He felt
he could not stay in the palace of the kindly king. He went where
his herdsmen camped and he lived with them. But the sea was very
near and its sound tormented him, and as the days went by,
Peleus, wild looking and shaggy, became more and more unlike the
hero whom once the gods themselves had honored.

One day as he was standing near the palace having speech with the
king, a herdsman ran to him and cried out: "Peleus, Peleus, a
dread thing has happened in the unfurrowed fields." And when he
had got his breath the herdsman told of the thing that had
happened.

They had brought the herd down to the sea. Suddenly, from the
marshes where the sea and land came together, a monstrous beast
rushed out upon the herd; like a wolf this beast was, but with
mouth and jaws that were more terrible than a wolf's even. The
beast seized upon the cattle. Yet it was not hunger that made it
fierce, for the beasts that it killed it tore, but did not
devour. Tit rushed on and on, killing and tearing more and more
of the herd. "Soon," said the herdsman, "it will have destroyed
all in the herd, and then it will not spare to destroy the other
flocks and herds that are in the land."

Peleus was stricken to hear that his herd was being destroyed,
but more stricken to know that the land of a friendly king would
be ravaged, and ravaged on his account. For he knew that the
terrible beast that had come from where the sea and the land
joined had been sent by Psamathe. He went up on the tower that
stood near the king's palace. He was able to look out on the sea
and able to look over all the land. And looking across the bright
valleys he saw the dread beast. He saw it rush through his own
mangled cattle and fall upon the herds of the kindly king.
He looked toward the sea and he prayed to Psamathe to spare the
land that he had come to. But, even as he prayed, he knew that
Psamathe would not harken to him. Then he made a prayer to
Thetis, to his wife who had seemed so unforgiving. He prayed her
to deal with Psamathe so that the land of Ceyx would not be
altogether destroyed.

As he looked from the tower he saw the king come forth with arms
in his hands for the slaying of the terrible beast. Peleus felt
fear for the life of the kindly king. Down from the tower he
came, and taking up his spear he went with Ceyx.

Soon, in one of the brightest of the valleys, they came upon the
beast; they came between it and a herd of silken-coated cattle.
Seeing the men it rushed toward them with blood and foam upon its
jaws. Then Peleus knew that the spears they carried would be of
little use against the raging beast. His only thought was to
struggle with it so that the king might be able to save himself.

Again he lifted up his hands and prayed to Thetis to draw away
Psamathe's enmity. The beast rushed toward them; but suddenly it
stopped. The bristles upon its body seemed to stiffen. The gaping
jaws became fixed. The hounds that were with them dashed upon the
beast, but then fell back with yelps of disappointment. And when
Peleus and Ceyx came to where it stood they found that the
monstrous beast had been turned into stone.

And a stone it remains in that bright valley, a wonder to all the
men of Ceyx's land. The country was spared the ravages of the
beast. And the heart of Peleus was uplifted to think that Thetis
had harkened to his prayer and had prevailed upon Psamathe to
forego her enmity. Not altogether unforgiving was his wife to
him.

That day he went from the land of the bright valleys, from the
land ruled over by the kindly Ceyx, and he came back to rugged
Phthia, his own country. When he came near his hall he saw two at
the doorway awaiting him. Thetis stood there, and the child
Achilles was by her side. The radiance of the immortals was in
her face no longer, but there was a glow there, a glow of welcome
for the hero Peleus. And thus Peleus, long tormented by the
enmity of the sea-born ones, came back to the wife he had won
from the sea.



III. THESEUS AND THE MINOTAUR

I

Thereafter Theseus made up his mind to go in search of his
father, the unknown king, and Medea, the wise woman, counseled
him to go to Athens. After the hunt in Calydon he set forth. On
his way he fought with and slew two robbers who harassed
countries and treated people unjustly.
The first was Sinnias. He was a robber who slew men cruelly by
tying them to strong branches of trees and letting the branches
fly apart. On him Theseus had no mercy. The second was a robber
also, Procrustes : he had a great iron bed on which he made his
captives lie; if they were too long for that bed he chopped
pieces off them, and if they were too short he stretched out
their bodies with terrible racks. On him, likewise, Theseus had
no mercy; he slew Procrustes and gave liberty to his captives.

The King of Athens at the time was named Aegeus. He was father of
Theseus, but neither Theseus nor he knew that this was so. Aethra
was his mother, and she was the daughter of the King of Troezen.
Before Theseus was born his father left a great sword under a
stone, telling Aethra that the boy was to have the sword when he
was able to move that stone away.

King Aegeus was old and fearful now: there were wars and troubles
in the city; besides, there was in his palace an evil woman, a
witch, to whom the king listened. This woman heard that a proud
and fearless young man had come into Athens, and she at once
thought to destroy him.

So the witch spoke to the fearful king, and she made him believe
that this stranger had come into Athens to make league with his
enemies and destroy him. Such was her power over Aegeus that she
was able to persuade him to invite the stranger youth to a feast
in the palace, and to give him a cup that would have poison in
it.

Theseus came to the palace. He sat down to the banquet with the
king. But before the cup was brought something moved him to stand
up and draw forth the sword that he carried. Fearfully the king
looked upon the sword. Then he saw the heavy ivory hilt with the
curious carving on it, and he knew that this was the sword that
he had once laid under the stone near the palace of the King of
Troezen. He questioned Theseus as to how he had come by the
sword, and Theseus told him how Aethra his mother, had shown him
where it was hidden, and how he had been able to take it from
under the stone before he was grown a youth. More and more Aegeus
questioned him, and he came to know that the youth before him was
his son indeed. He dashed down the cup that had been brought to
the table, and he shook all over with the thought of how near he
had been to a terrible crime. The witchwoman watched all that
passed; mounting on a car drawn by dragons she made flight from
Athens.

And now the people of the city, knowing that it was he who had
slain the robbers Sinnias and Procrustes, rejoiced to have
Theseus amongst them. When he appeared as their prince they
rejoiced still more. Soon he was able to bring to an end the wars
in the city and the troubles that afflicted Athens.

II

The greatest king in the world at that time was Minos, King of
Crete. Minos had sent his son to Athens to make peace and
friendship between his kingdom and the kingdom of King Aegeus.
But the people of Athens slew the son of King Minos, and because
Aegeus had not given him the protection that a king should have
given a stranger come upon such an errand he was deemed to have
some part in the guilt of his slaying.

Minos, the great king, was wroth, and he made war on Athens,
wreaking great destruction upon the country and the people.
Moreover, the gods themselves were wroth with Athens; they
punished the people with famine, making even the rivers dry up.
The Athenians went to the oracle and asked Apollo what they
should do to have their guilt taken away. Apollo made answer that
they should make peace with Minos and fulfill all his demands.

All this Theseus now heard, learning for the first time that
behind the wars and troubles in Athens there was a deed of evil
that Aegeus, his father, had some guilt in.

The demands that King Minos made upon Athens were terrible. He
demanded that the Athenians should send into Crete every year
seven youths and seven maidens as a price for the life of his
son. And these youths and maidens were not to meet death merely,
nor were they to be reared in slaverythey were to be sent that a
monster called the Minotaur might devour them.

Youths and maidens had been sent, and for the third time the
messengers of King Minos were coming to Athens. The tribute for
the Minotaur was to be chosen by lot. The fathers and mothers
were in fear and trembling, for each man and woman thought that
his or her son or daughter would be taken for a prey for the
Minotaur.

They came together, the people of Athens, and they drew the lots
fearfully. And on the throne above them all sat their pale-faced
king, Aegeus, the father of Theseus.

Before the first lot was drawn Theseus turned to all of them and
said, "People of Athens, it is not right that your children
should go and that I, who am the son of King Aegeus, should
remain behind. Surely, if any of the youths of Athens should face
the dread monster of Crete, I should face it. There is one lot
that you may leave undrawn. I will go to Crete."

His father, on hearing the speech of Theseus, came down from his
throne and pleaded with him, begging him not to go. But the will
of Theseus was set; he would go with the others and face the
Minotaur. And he reminded his father of how the people had
complained, saying that if Aegeus had done the duty of a king,
Minos's son would not have been slain and the tribute to the
Minotaur would have not been demanded. It was the passing about
of such complaints that had led to the war and troubles that
Theseus found on his coming to Athens.

Also Theseus told his father and told the people that he had hope
in his hands--that the hands that were strong enough to slay
Sinnias and Procrustes, the giant robbers, would be strong enough
to slay the dread monster of Crete. His father at last consented
to his going. And Theseus was able to make the people willing to
believe that he would be able to overcome the Minotaur, and so
put an end to the terrible tribute that was being exacted from
them.

With six other youths and seven maidens Theseus went on board of
the ship that every year brought to Crete the grievous tribute.
This ship always sailed with black sails. But before it sailed
this time King Aegeus gave to Nausitheus, the master of the ship,
a white sail to take with him. And he begged Theseus, that in
case he should be able to overcome the monster, to hoist the
white sail he had given. Theseus promised he would do this. His
father would watch for the return of the ship, and if the sail
were black he would know that the Minotaur had dealt with his son
as it had dealt with the other youths who had gone from Athens.
And if the sail were white Aegeus would have indeed cause to
rejoice.

III

And now the black-sailed ship had come to Crete, and the youths
and maidens of Athens looked from its deck on Knossos, the
marvelous city that Daedalus the builder had built for King
Minos. And they saw the palace of the king, the red and black
palace in which was the labyrinth, made also by Daedalus, where
the dread Minotaur was hidden.

In fear they looked upon the city and the palace. But not in fear
did Theseus look, but in wonder at the magnificence of it
all--the harbor with its great steps leading up into the city,
the far-spreading palace all red and black, and the crowds of
ships with their white and red sails. They were brought through
the city of Knossos to the palace of the king. And there Theseus
looked upon Minos. In a great red chamber on which was painted
the sign of the axe, King Minos sat.

On a low throne he sat, holding in his hand a scepter on which a
bird was perched. Not in fear, but steadily, did Theseus look
upon the king. And he saw that Minos had the face of one who has
thought long upon troublesome things, and that his eyes were
strangely dark and deep. The king noted that the eyes of Theseus
were upon him, and he made a sign with his head to an attendant
and the attendant laid his hand upon him and brought Theseus to
stand beside the king. Minos questioned him as to who he was and
what lands he had been in, and when he learned that Theseus was
the son of ,Egeus, the King of Athens, he said the name of his
son who had been slain, "Androgeus, Androgeus," over and over
again, and then spoke no more.

While he stood there beside the king there came into the chamber
three maidens; one of them, Theseus knew, was the daughter of
Minos. Not like the maidens of Greece were the princess and her
two attendants: instead of having on flowing garments and sandals
and wearing their hair bound, they had on dresses of gleaming
material that were tight at the waists and bell-shaped; the hair
that streamed on their shoulders was made wavy; they had on high
shoes of a substance that shone like glass. Never had Theseus
looked upon maidens who were so strange.

They spoke to the king in the strange Cretan language; then
Minos's daughter made reverence to her father, and they went from
the chamber. Theseus watched them as they went through a long
passage, walking slowly on their high-heeled shoes.

Through the same passage the youths and maidens of Athens were
afterward brought. They came into a great hall. The walls were
red and on them were paintings in black--pictures of great bulls
with girls and slender youths struggling with them. It was a
place for games and shows, and Theseus stood with the youths and
maidens of Athens and with the people of the palace and watched
what was happening.

They saw women charming snakes; then they saw a boxing match, and
afterward they all looked on a bout of wrestling. Theseus looked
past the wrestlers and he saw, at the other end of the hall, the
daughter of King Minos and her two attendant maidens.

One broad-shouldered and bearded man--overthrew all the wrestlers
who came to grips with him. He stood there boastfully, and
Theseus was made angry by the man's arrogance. Then, when no
other wrestler would come against him, he turned to leave the
arena.

But Theseus stood in his way and pushed him back. The boastful
man laid hands upon him and pulled him into the arena. He strove
to throw Theseus as he had thrown the others; but he soon found
that the youth from Greece was a wrestler, too, and that he would
have to strive hard to overthrow him.

More eagerly than they had watched anything else the people of
the palace and the youths and maidens of Athens watched the bout
between Theseus and the lordly wrestler. Those from Athens who
looked upon him now thought that they had never seen Theseus look
so tall and so conquering before; beside the slender, dark-haired
people of Crete he looked like a statue of one of the gods.

Very adroit was the Cretan wrestler, and Theseus had to use all
his strength to keep upon his feet; but soon he mastered the
tricks that the wrestler was using against him. Then the Cretan
left aside his tricks and began to use all his strength to throw
Theseus.

Steadily Theseus stood and the Cretan wrestler was spent and
gasping in the effort to throw him. Then Theseus made him feel
his grip. He bent him backward, and then, using all his strength
suddenly, forced him to the ground. All were filled with wonder
at the strength and power of this youth from overseas.

Food and wine were given the youths and maidens of Athens, and
they with Theseus were let wander through the grounds of the
palace. But they could make no escape, for guards followed them
and the way to the ships was filled with strangers who would not
let them pass. They talked to each other about the Minotaur, and
there was fear in every word they said. But Theseus went from one
to the other, telling them that perhaps there was a way by which
he could come to the monster and destroy it. And the youths and
maidens, remembering how he had overthrown the lordly wrestler,
were comforted a little, thinking that Theseus might indeed be
able to destroy the Minotaur and so save all of them.

IV


Theseus was awakened by some one touching him. He arose and he
saw a dark-faced servant, who beckoned to him. He left the little
chamber where he had been sleeping, and then he saw outside one
who wore the strange dress of the Cretans.

When Theseus looked full upon her he saw that she was none other
than the daughter of King Minos. "I am Ariadne," she said, "and,
O youth from Greece, I have come to save you from the dread
Minotaur."

He looked upon Ariadne's strange face with its long, dark eyes,
and he wondered how this girl could think that she could save him
and save the youths and maidens of Athens from the Minotaur. Her
hand rested upon his arm, and she led him into the chamber where
Minos had sat. It was lighted now by many little lamps.

"I will show the way of escape to you," said Ariadne.

Then Theseus looked around, and he saw that none of the other
youths and maidens were near them, and he looked on Ariadne
again, and he saw that the strange princess had been won to help
him, and to help him only.

"Who will show the way of escape to the others?" asked Theseus.

"Ah," said the Princess Ariadne, "for the others there is no way
of escape."

"Then," said Theseus, "I will not leave the youths and maidens of
Athens who came with me to Crete to be devoured by the Minotaur."

"Ah, Theseus," said Ariadne, "they cannot escape the Minotaur.
One only may escape, and I want you to be that one. I saw you
when you wrestled with Deucalion, our great wrestler, and since
then I have longed to save you."

"I have come to slay the Minotaur," said Theseus, "and I cannot
hold my life as my own until I have slain it."

Said Ariadne, "If you could see the Minotaur, Theseus, and if you
could measure its power, you would know that you are not the one
to slay it. I think that only Talos, that giant who was all of
bronze, could have slain the Minotaur."

"Princess," said Theseus, "can you help me to come to the
Minotaur and look upon it so that I can know for certainty
whether this hand of mine can slay the monster?"

"I can help you to come to the Minotaur and look upon it," said
Ariadne.

"Then help me, princess," cried Theseus; "help me to come to the
Minotaur and look upon it, and help me, too, to get back the
sword that I brought with me to Crete."

"Your sword will not avail you against the Minotaur," said
Ariadne; "when you look upon the monster you will know that it is
not for your hand to slay."

"Oh, but bring me my sword, princess," cried Theseus, and his
hands went out to her in supplication.

"I will bring you your sword," said she.

She took up a little lamp and went through a doorway, leaving
Theseus standing by the low throne in the chamber of Minos. Then
after a little while she came back, bringing with her Theseus's
great ivory-hilted sword.

"It is a great sword," she said; "I marked it before because it
is your sword, Theseus. But even this great sword will not avail
against the Minotaur."

"Show me the way to come to the Minotaur, O Ariadne," cried
Theseus.

He knew that she did not think that he would deem himself able to
strive with the Minotaur, and that when he looked upon the dread
monster he would return to her and then take the way of his
escape.

She took his hand and led him from the chamber of Minos. She was
not tall, but she stood straight and walked steadily, and Theseus
saw in her something of the strange majesty that he had seen in
Minos the king.

They came to high bronze gates that opened into a vault. "Here,"
said Ariadne, "the labyrinth begins. Very devious is the
labyrinth, built by Daedalus, in which the Minotaur is hidden,
and without the clue none could find a way through the passages.
But I will give you the clue so that you may look upon the
Minotaur and then come back to me. Theseus, now I put into your
hand the thread that will guide you through all the windings of
the labyrinth. And outside the place where the Minotaur is you
will find another thread to guide you back."

A cone was on the ground and it had a thread fastened to it.
Ariadne gave Theseus the thread and the cone to wind it around.
The thread as he held it and wound it around the cone would bring
him through all the windings and turnings of the labyrinth.

She left him, and Theseus went on. Winding the thread around the
cone he went along a wide passage in the vault. He turned and
came into a passage that was very long. He came to a place in
this passage where a door seemed to be, but within the frame of
the doorway there was only a blank wall. But below that doorway
there was a flight of six steps, and down these steps the thread
led him. On he went, and he crossed the marks that he himself had
made in the dust, and he thought he must have come back to the
place where he had parted from Ariadne. He went on, and he saw
before him a flight of steps. The thread did not lead up the
steps; it led into the most winding of passages. So sudden were
the turnings in it that one could not see three steps before one.
He was dazed by the turnings of this passage, but still he went
on. He went up winding steps and then along a narrow wall. The
wall overhung a broad flight of steps, and Theseus had to jump to
them. Down the steps he went and into a wide, empty hall that had
doorways to the right hand and to the left hand. Here the thread
had its end. It was fastened to a cone that lay on the ground,
and beside this cone was another--the clue that was to bring him
back.

Now Theseus, knowing he was in the very center of the labyrinth,
looked all around for sight of the Minotaur. There was no sight
of the monster here. He went to all the doors and pushed at them,
and some opened and some remained fast. The middle door opened.
As it did Theseus felt around him a chilling draft of air.

That chilling draft was from the breathing of the monster.
Theseus then saw the Minotaur. It lay on the ground, a strange,
bull-faced thing.

When the thought came to Theseus that he would have to fight that
monster alone and in that hidden and empty place all delight left
him; he grew like a stone; he groaned, and it seemed to him that
he heard the voice of Ariadne calling him back. He could find his
way back through the labyrinth and come to her. He stepped back,
and the door closed on the Minotaur, the dread monster of Crete.

In an instant Theseus pushed the door again. He stood within the
hall where the Minotaur was, and the heavy door shut behind him.
He looked again on that dark, bull-faced thing. It reared up as a
horse rears and Theseus saw that it would crash down on him and
tear him with its dragon claws. With a great bound he went far
away from where the monster crashed down. Then Theseus faced it:
he saw its thick lips and its slobbering mouth; he saw that its
skin was thick and hard.

He drew near the monster, his sword in his hand. He struck at its
eyes, and his sword made a great dint. But no blood came, for the
Minotaur was a bloodless monster. From its mouth and nostrils
came a draft that covered him with a chilling slime.

Then it rushed upon him and overthrew him, and Theseus felt its
terrible weight upon him. But he thrust his sword upward, and it
reared up again, screaming with pain. Theseus drew himself away,
and then he saw it searching around and around, and he knew he
had made it sightless. Then it faced him; all the more fearful it
was because from its wounds no blood came.

Anger flowed into Theseus when he saw the monster standing
frightfully before him; he thought of all the youths and maidens
that this bloodless thing had destroyed, and all the youths and
maidens that it would destroy if he did not slay it now. Angrily
he rushed upon it with his great sword. It clawed and tore him,
and it opened wide its most evil mouth as if to draw him into it.
But again he sprang at it; he thrust his great sword through its
neck, and he left his sword there.

With the last of his strength he pulled open the heavy door and
he went out from the hall where the Minotaur was. He picked up
the thread and he began to wind it as he had wound the other
thread on his way down. On he went, through passage after
passage, through chamber after chamber. His mind was dizzy, and
he had little thought for the way he was going. His wounds and
the chill that the monster had breathed into him and his horror
of the fearful and bloodless thing made his mind almost forsake
him. He kept the thread in his hand and he wound it as he went on
through the labyrinth. He stumbled and the thread broke. He went
on for a few steps and then he went back to find the thread that
had fallen out of his hands. In an instant he was in a part of
the labyrinth that he had not been in before.

He walked a long way, and then he came on his own footmarks as
they crossed themselves in the dust. He pushed open a door and
came into the air. He was now by the outside wall of the palace,
and he saw birds flying by him. He leant against the wall of the
palace, thinking that he would strive no more to find his way
through the labyrinth.

V

That day the youths and maidens of Athens were brought through
the labyrinth and to the hall where the Minotaur was. They went
through the passages weeping and lamenting. Some cried out for
Theseus, and some said that Theseus had deserted

them. The heavy door was opened. Then those who were with the
youths and maidens saw the Minotaur lying stark and stiff with
Theseus's sword through its neck. They shouted and blew trumpets
and the noise of their trumpets filled the labyrinth. Then they
turned back, bringing the youths and maidens with them, and a
whisper went through the whole palace that the Minotaur had been
slain. The youths and maidens were lodged in the chamber where
Minos gave his judgments.

VI

Theseus, wearied and overcome, fell into a deep sleep by the wall
of the palace. He awakened with a feeling that the claw of the
Minotaur was upon him. There were stars in the sky above the high
palace wall, and he saw a dark-robed and ancient man standing
beside him. Theseus knew that this was Daedalus, the builder of
the palace and the labyrinth. Daedalus called and a slim youth
came Icarus, the son of Daedalus. Minos had set father and son
apart from the rest of the palace, and Theseus had come near the
place where they were confined. Icarus came and brought him to a
winding stairway and showed him a way to go.

A dark-faced servant met and looked him full in the face. Then,
as if he knew that Theseus was the one whom he had been searching
for, he led him into a little chamber where there were three
maidens. One started up and came to him quickly, and Theseus
again saw Ariadne.

She hid him in the chamber of the palace where her singing birds
were, and she would come and sit beside him, asking about his own
country and telling him that she would go with him there. "I
showed you how you might come to the Minotaur," she said, "and
you went there and you slew the monster, and now I may not stay
in my father's palace."

And Theseus thought all the time of his return, and of how he
might bring the youths and maidens of Athens back to their own
people. For Ariadne, that strange princess, was not dear to him
as Medea was dear to Jason, or Atalanta the Huntress to young
Meleagrus.

One sunset she led him to a roof of the palace and she showed him
the harbor with the ships, and she showed him the ship with the
black sail that had brought him to Knossos. She told him she
would take him aboard that ship, and that the youths and maidens
of Athens could go with them. She would bring to the master of
the ship the seal of King Minos, and the master, seeing it, would
set sail for whatever place Theseus desired to go.

Then did she become dear to Theseus because of her great
kindness, and he kissed her eyes and swore that he would not go
from the palace unless she would come with him to his own
country. The strange princess smiled and wept as if she doubted
what he said. Nevertheless, she led him from the roof and down
into one of the palace gardens. He waited there, and the youths
and maidens of Athens were led into the garden, all wearing
cloaks that hid their forms and faces. Young Icarus led them from
the grounds of the palace and down to the ships. And Ariadne went
with them, bringing with her the seal of her father, King Minos.

And when they came on board of the black-sailed ship they showed
the seal to the master, Nausitheus, and the master of the ship
let the sail take the breeze of the evening, and so Theseus went
away from Crete.

VII

To the Island of Naxos they sailed. And when they reached that
place the master of the ship, thinking that what had been done
was not in accordance with the will of King Minos, stayed the
ship there. He waited until other ships came from Knossos. And
when they came they brought word that Minos would not slay nor
demand back Theseus nor the youths and maidens of Athens. His
daughter, Ariadne, he would have back, to reign with him over
Crete.

Then Ariadne left the black-sailed ship, and went back to Crete
from Naxos. Theseus let the princess go, although he might have
struggled to hold her. But more strange than dear did Ariadne
remain to Theseus.

And all this time his father, Aegeus, stayed on the tower of his
palace, watching for the return of the ship that had sailed for
Knossos. The life of the king wasted since the departure of
Theseus, and now it was but a thread. Every day he watched for
the return of the ship, hoping against hope that Theseus
would return alive to him. Then a ship came into the harbor. It
had black sails. IF-geus did not know that Theseus was aboard of
it, and that Theseus in the hurry of his flight and in the
sadness of his parting from Ariadne had not thought of taking out
the white sail that his father had given to Nausitheus.

Joyously Theseus sailed into the harbor, having slain the
Minotaur and lifted for ever the tribute put upon Athens.
Joyously he sailed into the harbor, bringing back to their
parents the youths and maidens of Athens. But the king, his
father, saw the black sails on his ship, and straightway the
thread of his life broke, and he died on the roof of the tower
which he had built to look out on the sea.

Theseus landed on the shore of his own country. He had the ship
drawn up on the beach and he made sacrifices of thanksgiving to
the gods. Then he sent messengers to the city to announce his
return. They went toward the city, these joyful messengers, but
when they came to the gate they heard the sounds of mourning and
lamentation. The mourning and the lamentation were for the death
of the king, Theseus's father. They hurried back and they came to
Theseus where he stood on the beach. They brought a wreath of
victory for him, but as they put it into his hand they told him
of the death of his father. Then Theseus left the wreath on the
ground, and he wept for the death of Aegeus--of Aegeus, the hero,
who had left the sword under the stone for him before he was
born.

The men and women who came to the beach wept and laughed
as they clasped in their arms the children brought back to them.
And Theseus stood there, silent and bowed; the memory of his last
moments with his father, of his fight with the Minotaur, of his
parting with Ariadne--all flowed back upon him. He stood there
with head bowed, the man who might not put upon his brows the
wreath of victory that had been brought to him.

VIII

There had come into the city a youth of great valor whose name
was Peirithous: from a far country he had come, filled with a
desire of meeting Theseus, whose fame had come to him. The youth
was in Athens at the time Theseus returned. He went down to the
beach with the townsfolk, and he saw Theseus standing alone with
his head bowed down. He went to him and he spoke, and Theseus
lifted his head and he saw before him a young man of strength and
beauty. He looked upon him, and the thought of high deeds came
into his mind again. He wanted this young man to be his comrade
in dangers and upon quests. And Peirithous looked upon Theseus,
and he felt that he was greater and nobler than he had thought.
They became friends and sworn brothers, and together they went
into far countries.

Now there was in Epirus a savage king who had a very fair
daughter. He had named this daughter Persephone, naming her thus
to show that she was held as fast by him as that other Persephone
was held who ruled in the Underworld. No man might see her, and
no man might wed her. But Peirithous had seen the daughter of
this king, and he desired above all things to take her from. her
father and make her his wife. He begged Theseus to help him enter
that king's palace and carry off the maiden.

So they came to Epirus, Theseus and Peirithous, and they entered
the king's palace, and they heard the bay of the dread hound that
was there to let no one out who had once come within the walls.
Suddenly the guards of the savage king came upon them, and they
took Theseus and Peirithous and they dragged them down into dark
dungeons.

Two great chairs of stone were there, and Theseus and Peirithous
were left seated in them. And the magic powers that were in the
chairs of stone were such that the heroes could not lift
themselves out of them. There they stayed, held in the great
stone chairs in the dungeons of that savage king.

Then it so happened that Heracles came into the palace of the
king. The harsh king feasted Heracles and abated his savagery
before him. But he could not forbear boasting of how he had
trapped the heroes who had come to carry off Persephone. And he
told how they could not get out of the stone chairs and how they
were held captive in his dark dungeon. Heracles listened, his
heart full of pity for the heroes from Greece who had met with
such a harsh fate. And when the king mentioned that one of the
heroes was Theseus, Heracles would feast no more with him until
he had promised that the one who had been his comrade on the Argo
would be let go.

The king said he would give Theseus his liberty if Heracles would
carry the stone chair on which he was seated out of the dungeon
and into the outer world. Then Heracles went down into the
dungeon. He found the two heroes in the great chairs of stone.
But one of them, Peirithous, no longer breathed. Heracles took
the great chair of stone that Theseus was seated in, and he
carried it up, up, from the dungeon and out into the world. It
was a heavy task even for Heracles. He broke the chair in pieces,
and Theseus stood up, released.

Thereafter the world was before Theseus. He went with Heracles,
and in the deeds that Heracles was afterward to accomplish
Theseus shared.



IV. THE LIFE AND LABORS OF HERACLES

Heracles was the son of Zeus, but he was born into the family of
a mortal king. When he was still a youth, being overwhelmed by a
madness sent upon him by one of the goddesses, he slew the
children of his brother Iphicles. Then, coming to know what he
had done, sleep and rest went from him: he went to Delphi, to the
shrine of Apollo, to be purified of his crime.

At Delphi, at the shrine of Apollo, the priestess purified him,
and when she had purified him she uttered this prophecy: "From
this day forth thy name shall be, not Alcides, but Heracles. Thou
shalt go to Eurystheus, thy cousin, in Mycenae, and serve him in
all things. When the labors he shall lay upon thee are
accomplished, and when the rest of thy life is lived out, thou
shalt become one of the immortals." Heracles, on hearing these
words, set out for Mycenae.

He stood before his cousin who hated him; he, a towering man,
stood before a king who sat there weak and trembling. And
Heracles said, "I have come to take up the labors that you will
lay upon me; speak now, Eurystheus, and tell me what you would
have me do."

Eurystheus, that weak king, looking on the young man who stood as
tall and as firm as one of the immortals, had a heart that was
filled with hatred. He lifted up his head and he said with a
frown:

"There is a lion in Nemea that is stronger and more fierce than
any lion known before. Kill that lion, and bring the lion's skin
to me that I may know that you have truly performed your task."
So Eurystheus said, and Heracles, with neither shield nor arms,
went forth from the king's palace to seek and to combat the dread
lion of Nemea.

He went on until he came into a country where the fences were
overthrown and the fields wasted and the houses empty and fallen.
He went on until he came to the waste around that land: there he
came on the trail of the lion; it led up the side
of a mountain, and Heracles, without shield or arms, followed the
trail.

He heard the roar of the lion. Looking up he saw the beast
standing at the mouth of a cavern, huge and dark against the
sunset. The lion roared three times, and then it went within the
cavern.

Around the mouth were strewn the bones of creatures it had killed
and carried there. Heracles looked upon them when he came to the
cavern. He went within. Far into the cavern he went, and then he
came to where he saw the lion. It was sleeping.

Heracles viewed the terrible bulk of the lion, and then he looked
upon his own knotted hands and arms. He remembered that it was
told of him that, while still a child of eight months, he had
strangled a great serpent that had come to his cradle to devour
him. He had grown and his strength had grown too.

So he stood, measuring his strength and the size of the lion. The
breath from its mouth and nostrils came heavily to him as the
beast slept, gorged with its prey. Then the lion yawned. Heracles
sprang on it and put his great hands upon its throat. No growl
came out of its mouth, but the great eyes blazed while the
terrible paws tore at Heracles. Against the rock Heracles held
the beast; strongly he held it, choking it through the skin that
was almost impenetrable. Terribly the lion struggled; but the
strong hands of the hero held around its throat until it
struggled no more.

Then Heracles stripped off that impenetrable skin from the lion's
body; he put it upon himself for a cloak. Then, as he went
through the forest, he pulled up a young oak tree and trimmed it
and made a club for himself. With the lion's skin over him--that
skin that no spear or arrow could pierce--and carrying the club
in his hand he journeyed on until he came to the palace of King
Eurystheus.

The king, seeing coming toward him a towering man all covered
with the hide of a monstrous lion, ran and hid himself in a great
jar. He lifted the lid up to ask the servants what was the
meaning of this terrible appearance. And the servants told him
that it was Heracles come back with the skin of the lion of
Nemea. On hearing this Eurystheus hid himself again.

He would not speak with Heracles nor have him come near him, so
fearful was he. But Heracles was content to be left alone. He sat
down in the palace and feasted himself.

The servants came to the king; Eurystheus lifted the lid of the
jar and they told him how Heracles was feasting and devouring all
the goods in the palace. The king flew into a rage, but still he
was fearful of having the hero before him. He issued commands
through his heralds ordering Heracles to go forth at once and
perform the second of his tasks.

It was to slay the great water snake that made its lair in the
swamps of Lerna. Heracles stayed to feast another day, and then,
with the lion's skin across his shoulders and the great
club in his hands, he started off. But this time he did not go
alone; the boy Iolaus went with him.


Heracles and Iolaus went on until they came to the vast swamp of
Lerna. Right in the middle of the swamp was the water snake that
was called the Hydra. Nine heads it had, and it raised them up
out of the water as the hero and his companion came near. They
could not cross the swamp to come to the monster, for man or
beast would sink and be lost in it.

The Hydra remained in the middle of the swamp belching mud at the
hero and his companion. Then Heracles took up his bow and he shot
flaming arrows at its heads. It grew into such a rage that it
came through the swamp to attack him. Heracles swung his club. As
the Hydra came near he knocked head after head off its body.

But for every head knocked off two grew upon the Hydra. And as he
struggled with the monster a huge crab came out of the swamp, and
gripping Heracles by the foot tried to draw him in. Then Heracles
cried out. The boy Iolaus came; he killed the crab that had come
to the Hydra's aid.

Then Heracles laid hands upon the Hydra and drew it out of the
swamp. With his club he knocked off a head and he had Iolaus put
fire to where it had been, so that two heads might not grow in
that place. The life of the Hydra was in its middle head; that
head he had not been able to knock off with his club. Now, with
his hands he tore it off, and he placed this head under a great
stone so that it could not rise into life again. The Hydra's life
was now destroyed. Heracles dipped his arrows into the gall of
the monster, making his arrows deadly; no thing that was struck
by these arrows afterward could keep its life.

Again he came to Eurystheus's palace, and Eurystheus, seeing him,
ran again and hid himself in the jar. Heracles ordered the
servants to tell the king that he had returned and that the
second labor was accomplished.

Eurystheus, hearing from the servants that Heracles was mild in
his ways, came out of the jar. Insolently he spoke. "Twelve
labors you have to accomplish for me," said he to Heracles, "and
eleven yet remain to be accomplished."

"How?" said Heracles. "Have I not performed two of the labors?
Have I not slain the lion of Nemea and the great water snake of
Lerna?"

"In the killing of the water snake you were helped by Iolaus,"
said the king, snapping out his words and looking at Heracles
with shifting eyes. "That labor cannot be allowed you."

Heracles would have struck him to the ground. But then he
remembered that the crime that he had committed in his madness
would have to be expiated by labors performed at the order of
this man. He looked full upon Eurystheus and he said, "Tell me of
the other labors, and I will go forth from Mycenx and accomplish
them."

Then Eurystheus bade him go and make clean the stables of King
Augeias. Heracles came into that king's country. The smell
from the stables was felt for miles around. Countless herds of
cattle and goats had been in the stables for years, and because
of the uncleanness and the smell that came from it the crops were
withered all around. Heracles told the king that he would clean
the stables if he were given one tenth of the cattle and the
goats for a reward.

The king agreed to this reward. Then Heracles drove the cattle
and the goats out of the stables; he broke through the
foundations and he made channels for the two rivers Alpheus and
Peneius. The waters flowed through the stables, and in a day all
the uncleanness was washed away. Then Heracles turned the rivers
back into their own courses.

He was not given the reward he had bargained for, however.

He went back to Mycenae with the tale of how he had cleaned the
stables. "Ten labors remain for me to do now," he said.

"Eleven," said Eurystheus. "How can I allow the cleaning of King
Augeias's stables to you when you bargained for a reward for
doing it?"

Then while Heracles stood still, holding himself back from
striking him, Eurystheus ran away and hid himself in the jar.
Through his heralds he sent word to Heracles, telling him what
the other labors would be.

He was to clear the marshes of Stymphalus of the maneating birds
that gathered there; he was to capture and bring
to the king the golden-horned deer of Coryneia; he was also to
capture and bring alive to Mycenae the boar of Erymanthus.

Heracles came to the marshes of Stymphalus. The growth of jungle
was so dense that he could not cut his way through to where the
man-eating birds were; they sat upon low bushes within the
jungle, gorging themselves upon the flesh they had carried there.

For days Heracles tried to hack his way through. He could not get
to where the birds were. Then, thinking he might not be able to
accomplish this labor, he sat upon the ground in despair.

It was then that one of the immortals appeared to him; for the
first and only time he was given help from the gods.

It was Athena who came to him. She stood apart from Heracles,
holding in her hands brazen cymbals. These she clashed together.
At the sound of this clashing the Stymphalean birds rose up from
the low bushes behind the jungle. Heracles shot at them with
those unerring arrows of his. The maneating birds fell, one after
the other, into the marsh.

Then Heracles went north to where the Coryneian deer took her
pasture. So swift of foot was she that no hound nor hunter had
ever been able to overtake her. For the whole of a year Heracles
kept Golden Horns in chase, and at last, on the side of the
Mountain Artemision, he caught her. Artemis, the goddess of the
wild things, would have punished Heracles for capturing the deer,
but the hero pleaded with her, and she relented and agreed to let
him bring the deer to Mycenm and show her to King Eurystheus. And
Artemis took charge of Golden Horns while Heracles went off to
capture the Erymanthean boar.

He came to the city of Psophis, the inhabitants of which were in
deadly fear because of the ravages of the boar. Heracles made
his way up the mountain to hunt it. Now on this mountain a band
of centaurs lived, and they, knowing him since the time he had
been fostered by Chiron, welcomed Heracles. One of them, Pholus,
took Heracles to the great house where the centaurs had their
wine stored.

Seldom did the centaurs drink wine; a draft of it made them wild,
and so they stored it away, leaving it in the charge of one of
their band. Heracles begged Pholus to give him a draft of wine;
after he had begged again and again the centaur opened one of his
great jars.

Heracles drank wine and spilled it. Then the centaurs that were
without smelt the wine and came hammering at the door, demanding
the drafts that would make them wild. Heracles came forth to
drive them away. They attacked him. Then he shot at them with his
unerring arrows and he drove them away. Up the mountain and away
to far rivers the centaurs raced, pursued by Heracles with his
bow.

One was slain, Pholus, the centaur who had entertained him. By
accident Heracles dropped a poisoned arrow on his foot. He took
the body of Pholus up to the top of the mountain and buried the
centaur there. Afterward, on the snows of Erymanthus, he set a
snare for the boar and caught him there.

Upon his shoulders he carried the boar to Mycenae and he led the
deer by her golden horns. When Eurystheus bad looked upon them
the boar was slain, but the deer was loosed and she fled back to
the Mountain Artemision.

King Eurystheus sat hidden in the great jar, and he thought of
more terrible labors he would make Heracles engage in. Now he
would send him oversea and make him strive with fierce tribes and
more dread monsters. When he had it all thought out he had
Heracles brought before him and he told him of these other
labors.

He was to go to savage Thrace and there destroy the man-eating
horses of King Diomedes; afterward he was to go amongst the dread
women, the Amazons, daughters of Ares, the god of war, and take
from their queen, Hippolyte, the girdle that Ares had given her;
then he was to go to Crete and take from the keeping of King
Minos the beautiful bull that Poseidon had given him; afterward
he was to go to the Island of Erytheia and take away from
Geryoneus, the monster that had three bodies instead of one, the
herd of red cattle that the two-headed hound Orthus kept guard
over; then he was to go to the Garden of the Hesperides, and from
that garden he was to take the golden apples that Zeus had given
to Hera for a marriage gift--where the Garden of the Hesperides
was no mortal knew.

So Heracles set out on a long and perilous quest. First he went
to Thrace, that savage land that was ruled over by Diomedes, son
of Ares, the war god. Heracles broke into the stable where the
horses were; he caught three of them by their heads, and although
they kicked and bit and trampled he forced them out of the stable
and down to the seashore, where his companion, Abderus, waited
for him. The screams of the fierce horses were heard by the men
of Thrace, and they, with their king, came after Heracles. He
left the horses in charge of Abderus while he fought the
Thracians and their savage king.

Heracles shot his deadly arrows amongst them, and then he fought
with their king. He drove them from the seashore, and then he
came back to where he had left Abderus with the fierce horses.

They had thrown Abderus upon the ground, and they were trampling
upon him. Heracles drew his bow and he shot the horses with the
unerring arrows that were dipped with the gall of the Hydra he
had slain. Screaming, the horses of King Diomedes raced toward
the sea, but one fell and another fell, and then, as it came to
the line of the foam, the third of the fierce horses fell. They
were all slain with the unerring arrows. Then Heracles took up
the body of his companion and he buried it with proper rights,
and over it he raised a column. Afterward, around that column a
city that bore the name of Heracles's friend was built.

Then toward the Euxine Sea he went. There, where the River
Themiscyra flows into the sea he saw the abodes of the Amazons.
And upon the rocks and the steep place he saw the warrior women
standing with drawn bows in their hands. Most dangerous
did they seem to Heracles. He did not know how to approach them;
he might shoot at them with his unerring arrows, but when his
arrows were all shot away, the Amazons, from their steep places,
might be able to kill him with the arrows from their bows.

While he stood at a distance, wondering what he might do, a horn
was sounded and an Amazon mounted upon a white stallion rode
toward him. When the warrior-woman came near she cried out,
"Heracles, the Queen Hippolyte permits you to come amongst the
Amazons. Enter her tent and declare to the queen what has brought
you amongst the never-conquered Amazons."

Heracles came to the tent of the queen. There stood tall
Hippolyte with an iron crown upon her head and with a beautiful
girdle of bronze and iridescent glass around her waist. Proud and
fierce as a mountain eagle looked the queen of the Amazons:
Heracles did not know in what way he might conquer her. Outside
the tent the Amazons stood; they struck their shields with their
spears, keeping up a continuous savage din.

"For what has Heracles come to the country of the Amazons?" Queen
Hippolyte asked.

"For the girdle you wear," said Heracles, and he held his hands
ready for the struggle.

"Is it for the girdle given me by Ares, the god of war, that you
have come, braving the Amazons, Heracles?" asked the queen.

"For that," said Heracles.

"I would not have you enter into strife with the Amazons," said
Queen Hippolyte. And so saying she drew óff the girdle of bronze
and iridescent glass, and she gave it into his hands.

Heracles took the beautiful girdle into his hands. Fearful he was
that some piece of guile was being played upon him, but then he
looked into the open eyes of the queen and he saw that she meant
no guile. He took the girdle and he put it around his great
brows; then he thanked Hippolyte and he went from the tent. He
saw the Amazons standing on the rocks and the steep places with
bows bent; unchallenged he went on, and he came to his ship and
he sailed away from that country with one more labor
accomplished.

The labor that followed was not dangerous. He sailed over sea and
he came to Crete, to the land that King Minos ruled over. And
there he found, grazing in a special pasture, the bull that
Poseidon had given King Minos. He laid his hands upon the bull's
horns and he struggled with him and he overthrew him. Then he
drove the bull down to the seashore.

His next labor was to take away the herd of red cattle that was
owned by the monster Geryoneus. In the Island of Erytheia, in the
middle of the Stream of Ocean, lived the monster, his herd
guarded by the two-headed hound Orthus--that hound was the
brother of Cerberus, the threeheaded hound that kept guard in the
Underworld.

Mounted upon the bull given Minos by Poseidon, Heracles
fared across the sea. He came even to the straits that divide
Europe from Africa, and there he set up two pillars as a memorial
of his journey--the Pillars of Heracles that stand to this day.
He and the bull rested there. Beyond him stretched the Stream of
Ocean; the Island of Erytheia was there, but Heracles thought
that the bull would not be able to bear him so far.

And there the sun beat upon him, and drew all strength away from
him, and he was dazed and dazzled by the rays of the sun. He
shouted out against the sun, and in his anger he wanted to strive
against the sun. Then he drew his bow and shot arrows upward.
Far, far out of sight the arrows of Heracles went. And the sun
god, Helios, was filled with admiration for Heracles, the man who
would attempt the impossible by shooting arrows at him; then did
Helios fling down to Heracles his great golden cup.

Down, and into the Stream of Ocean fell the great golden cup of
Helios. It floated there wide enough to hold all the men who
might be in a ship. Heracles put the bull of Minos into the cup
of Helios, and the cup bore them away, toward the west, and
across the Stream of Ocean.

Thus Heracles came to the Island of Erytheia. All over the island
straggled the red cattle of Geryoneus, grazing upon the rich
pastures. Heracles, leaving the bull of Minos in the cup, went
upon the island; he made a club for himself out of a tree and he
went toward the cattle.

The hound Orthus bayed and ran toward him; the two-headed hound
that was the brother of Cerberus sprang at Heracles with
poisonous foam upon his jaws. Heracles swung his club and
struck the two heads off the hound. And where the foam of the
hound's jaws dropped down a poisonous plant sprang up. Heracles
took up the body of the hound, and swung it around and flung it
far out into the Ocean.

Then the monster Geryoneus came upon him. Three bodies he had
instead of one; he attacked Heracles by hurling great stones at
him. Heracles was hurt by the stones. And then the monster beheld
the cup of Helios, and he began to hurl stones at the golden
thing, and it seemed that he might sink it in the sea, and leave
Heracles without a way of getting from the island. Heracles took
up his bow and he shot arrow after arrow at the monster, and he
left him dead in the deep grass of the pastures.

Then he rounded up the red cattle, the bulls and the cows, and he
drove them down to the shore and into the golden cup of Helios
where the bull of Minos stayed. Then back across the Stream of
Ocean the cup floated, and the bull of Crete and the cattle of
Geryoneus were brought past Sicily and through the straits called
the Hellespont. To Thrace, that savage land, they came. Then
Heracles took the cattle out, and the cup of Helios sank in the
sea. Through the wild lands of Thrace he drove the herd of
Geryoneus and the bull of Minos, and he came into Mycenae once
more.

But he did not stay to speak with Eurystheus. He started off to
find the Garden of the Hesperides, the Daughters of the
Evening Land. Long did he search, but he found no one who could
tell him where the garden was. And at last he went to Chiron on
the Mountain Pelion, and Chiron told Heracles what journey he
would have to make to come to the Hesperides, the Daughters of
the Evening Land.

Far did Heracles journey; weary he was when he came to where
Atlas stood, bearing the sky upon his weary shoulders. As he came
near he felt an undreamt-of perfume being wafted toward him. So
weary was he with his journey and all his toils that he would
fain sink down and dream away in that evening land. But he roused
himself, and he journeyed on toward where the perfume came from.
Over that place a star seemed always about to rise.

He came to where a silver lattice fenced a garden that was full
of the quiet of evening. Golden bees hummed through the air, and
there was the sound of quiet waters. How wild and laborious was
the world he had come from, Heracles thought! He felt that it
would be hard for him to return to that world.

He saw three maidens. They stood with wreaths upon their heads
and blossoming branches in their hands. When the maidens saw him
they came toward him crying out: "O man who has come into the
Garden of the Hesperides, go not near the tree that the sleepless
dragon guards!" Then they went and stood by a tree as if to keep
guard over it. All around were trees that bore flowers and fruit,
but this tree had golden apples amongst its bright green leaves.

Then he saw the guardian of the tree. Beside its trunk a dragon
lay, and as Heracles came near the dragon showed its glittering
scales and its deadly claws.

The apples were within reach, but the dragon, with its glittering
scales and claws, stood in the way. Heracles shot an arrow; then
a tremor went through Ladon, the sleepless dragon; it screamed
and then lay stark. The maidens cried in their grief; Heracles
went to the tree, and he plucked the golden apples and he put
them into the pouch he carried. Down on the ground sank the
Hesperides, the Daughters of the Evening Land, and he heard their
laments as he went from the enchanted garden they had guarded.

Back from the ends of the earth came Heracles, back from the
place where Atlas stood holding the sky upon his weary shoulders.
He went back through Asia and Libya and Egypt, and he came again
to Mycenae and to the palace of Eurystheus.

He brought to the king the herd of Geryoneus; he brought to the
king the bull of Minos; he brought to the king the girdle of
Hippolyte; he brought to the king the golden apples of the
Hesperides. And King Eurystheus, with his thin white face, sat
upon his royal throne and he looked over all the wonderful things
that the hero had brought him. Not pleased was Eurystheus; rather
was he angry that one he hated could win such wonderful things.

He took into his hands the golden apples of the Hesperides. But
this fruit was not for such as he. An eagle snatched the
branch from his hand, and the eagle flew and flew until it came
to where the Daughters of the Evening Land wept in their garden.
There the eagle let fall the branch with the golden apples, and
the maidens set it back upon the tree, and behold! it grew as it
had been growing before Heracles plucked it.

The next day the heralds of Eurystheus came to Heracles and they
told him of the last labor that he would have to set out to
accomplish--this time he would have to go down into the
Underworld, and bring up from King Aidoneus's realm Cerberus, the
three-headed hound.

Heracles put upon him the impenetrable lion's skin and set forth
once more. This might indeed be the last of his life's labors:
Cerberus was not an earthly monster, and he who would struggle
with Cerberus in the Underworld would have the gods of the dead
against him.

But Heracles went on. He journeyed to the cave Tainaron, which
was an entrance to the Underworld. Far into that dismal cave he
went, and then down, down, until he came to Acheron, that dim
river that has beyond it only the people of the dead. Cerberus
bayed at him from the place where the dead cross the river.
Knowing that he was no shade, the hound sprang at Heracles, but
be could neither bite nor tear through that impenetrable lion's
skin. Heracles held him by the neck of his middle head so that
Cerberus was neither able to bite nor tear nor bellow.

Then to the brink of Acheron came Persephone, queen of the
Underworld. She declared to Heracles that the gods of the dead
would not strive against him if he promised to bring Cerberus
back to the Underworld, carrying the hound downward again as he
carried him upward.

This Heracles promised. He turned around and he carried Cerberus,
his hands around the monster's neck while foam dripped from his
jaws. He carried him on and upward toward the world of men. Out
through a cave that was in the land of Trcezen Heracles came,
still carrying Cerberus by the neck of his middle head.

From Troezen to Mycenae the hero went and men fled before him at
the sight of the monster that he carried. On he went toward the
king's palace. Eurystheus was seated outside his palace that day,
looking at the great jar that he had often hidden in, and
thinking to himself that Heracles would never appear to affright
him again. Then Heracles appeared. He called to Eurystheus, and
when the king looked up he held the hound toward him. The three
heads grinned at Eurystheus; he gave a cry and scrambled into the
jar. But before his feet touched the bottom of it Eurystheus was
dead of fear. The jar rolled over, and Heracles looked upon the
body that was all twisted with fright. Then he turned around and
made his way back to the Underworld. On the brink of Acheron he
loosed Cerberus, and the bellow of the three-headed hound was
heard again.

II

It was then that Heracles was given arms by the gods the sword of
Hermes, the bow of Apollo, the shield made by Hephaestus; it was
then that Heracles joined the Argonauts and journeyed with them
to the edge of the Caucasus, where, slaying the vulture that
preyed upon Prometheus's liver, he, at the will of Zeus,
liberated the Titan. Thereafter Zeus and Prometheus were
reconciled, and Zeus, that neither might forget how much the
enmity between them had cost gods and men, had a ring made for
Prometheus to wear; that ring was made out of the fetter that had
been upon him, and in it was set a fragment of the rock that the
Titan had been bound to.

The Argonauts had now won back to Greece. But before he saw any
of them he had been in Oichalia, and had seen the maiden Iole.

The king of Oichalia had offered his daughter Iole in marriage to
the hero who could excel himself and his sons in shooting with
arrows. Heracles saw Iole, the blue-eyed and childlike maiden,
and he longed to take her with him to some place near the Garden
of the Hesperides. And Iole looked on him, and he knew that she
wondered to see him so tall and so strongly knit even as he
wondered to see her so childlike and delicate.

Then the contest began. The king and his sons shot wonderfully
well, and none of the heroes who stood before Heracles had a
chance of winning. Then Heracles shot his arrows. No matter how
far away they moved the mark, Heracles struck it and struck the
very center of it. The people wondered who this great archer
might be. And then a name was guessed at and went around--
Heracles!

When the king heard the name of Heracles he would not let him
strive in the contest any more. For the maiden Iole would not be
given as a prize to one who had been mad and whose madness might
afflict him again. So the king said, speaking in judgment in the
market place.

Rage came on Heracles when he heard this judgment given. He would
not let his rage master him lest the madness that was spoken of
should come with his rage. So he left the city of Oichalia
declaring to the king and the people that he would return.

It was then that, wandering down to Crete, he heard of the
Argonauts being near. And afterward he heard of them being in
Calydon, hunting the boar that ravaged Oeneus's country. To
Calydon Heracles went. The heroes had departed when he came into
the country, and all the city was in grief for the deaths of
Prince Meleagrus and his two uncles.

On the steps of the temple where Meleagrus and his uncles had
been brought Heracles saw Deianira, Meleagrus's sister. She was
pale with her grief, this tall woman of the mountains; she looked
like a priestess, but also like a woman who could cheer camps of
men with her counsel, her bravery, and her good companionship;
her hair was very dark and she had dark eyes.

Straightway she became friends with Heracles; and when they saw
each other for a while they loved each other. And Heracles forgot
Iole, the childlike maiden whom he had seen in Oichalia.

He made himself a suitor for Deianira, and those who protected
her were glad of Heracles's suit, and they told him they would
give him the maiden to marry as soon as the mourning for Prince
Meleagrus and his uncles was over. Heracles stayed in Calydon,
happy with Deianira, who had so much beauty, wisdom, and bravery.

But then a dreadful thing happened in Calydon; by an accident,
while using his strength unthinkingly, Heracles killed a lad who
was related to Deianira. He might not marry her now until he had
taken punishment for slaying one who was close to her in blood.

As a punishment for the slaying it was judged that Heracles
should be sold into slavery for three years. At the end of his
three years' slavery he could come back to Calydon and wed
Deianira.

And so Heracles and Deianira were parted. He was sold as a slave
in Lydia; the one who bought him was a woman, a widow named
Omphale. To her house Heracles went, carrying his armor and
wearing his lion's skin. And Omphale laughed to see this tall man
dressed in a lion's skin coming to her house to do a servant's
tasks for her.

She and all in her house kept up fun with Heracles. They would
set him to do housework, to carry water, and set vessels on the
tables, and clear the vessels away. Omphale set him to spin with
a spindle as the women did. And often she would put on Heracles's
lion skin and go about dragging his club, while he, dressed in
woman's garb, washed dishes and emptied pots.

But he would lose patience with these servant's tasks, and then
Omphale would let him go away and perform some great exploit.
Often he went on long journeys and stayed away for long times. It
was while he was in slavery to Omphale that he liberated Theseus
from the dungeon in which he was held with Peirithous, and it was
while he still was in slavery that he made his journey to Troy.

At Troy he helped to repair for King Laomedon the great walls
that years before Apollo and Poseidon had built around the city.
As a reward for this labor he was offered the Princess Hesione in
marriage; she was the daughter of King Laomedon, and the sister
of Priam, who was then called, not Priam but Podarces. He helped
to repair the wall, and two of the Argonauts were there to aid
him: one was Peleus and the other was Telamon. Peleus did not
stay for long: Telamon stayed, and to reward Telamon Heracles
withdrew his own claim for the hand of the Princess Hesione. It
was not hard on Heracles to do this, for his thoughts were ever
upon Deianira.

But Telamon rejoiced, for he loved Hesione greatly. On the day
they married Heracles showed the two an eagle in the sky.
He said it was sent as an omen to them--an omen for their
marriage. And in memory of that omen Telamon named his son
"Alas"; that is, "Eagle."

Then the walls of Troy were repaired and Heracles turned toward
Lydia, Omphale's home. Not long would he have to serve Omphale
now, for his three years' slavery was n arly over. Soon he would
go back to Calydon and wed Deianira.

As he went along the road to Lydia he thought of all the
pleasantries that had been made in Omphale's house and he
laughed at the memory of them. Lydia was a friendly country, and
even though he had been in slavery Heracles had had his good
times there.

He was tired with the journey and made sleepy with the heat of
the sun, and when he came within sight of Omphale's house he lay
down by the side of the road, first taking off his armor, and
laying aside his bow, his quiver, and his shield. He wakened up
to see two men looking down upon him; he knew that these were the
Cercopes, robbers who waylaid travelers upon this road. They were
laughing as they looked down on him, and Heracles saw that they
held his arms and his armor in their hands.

They thought that this man, for all his tallness, would yield to
them when he saw that they had his arms and his armor. But
Heracles sprang up, and he caught one by the waist and the other
by the neck, and he turned them upside down and tied them
together by the heels. Now he held them securely and he would
take them to the town and give them over to those whom they had
waylaid and robbed. He hung them by their heels across his
shoulders and marched on.

But the robbers, as they were being bumped along, began to relate
pleasantries and mirthful tales to each other, and Heracles,
listening, had to laugh. And one said to the other, "O my
brother, we are in the position of the frogs when the mice fell
upon them with such fury." And the other said, "Indeed nothing
can save us if Zeus does not send an ally to us as he sent an
ally to the frogs." And the first robber said, "Who began that
conflict, the frogs or the mice?" And thereupon the second
robber, his head reaching down to Heracles's waist, began:


THE BATTLE OF THE FROGS AND MICE

A warlike mouse came down to the brink of a pond for no other
reason than to take a drink of water. Up to him hopped a frog.
Speaking in the voice of one who had rule and authority, the frog
said:

"Stranger to our shore, you may not know it, but I am Puff Jaw,
king of the frogs. I do not speak to common mice, but you, as I
judge, belong to the noble and kingly sort. Tell me your race. If
I know it to be a noble one I shall show you my kingly
friendship."

The mouse, speaking haughtily, said: "I am Crumb Snatcher, and my
race is a famous one. My father is the heroic Bread Nibbler, and
he married Quern Licker, the lovely daughter of a king. Like all
my race I am a warrior who has never been wont to flinch in
battle. Moreover, I have been brought up as a mouse of high
degree, and figs and nuts, cheese and honeycakes is the provender
that I have been fed on."

Now this reply of Crumb Snatcher pleased the kingly frog greatly.
"Come with me to my abode, illustrious Crumb Snatcher," said he,
"and I shall show you such entertainment as may be found in the
house of a king."

But the mouse looked sharply at him. "How may I get to your
house?" he asked. "We live in different elements, you and I. We
mice want to be in the driest of dry places, while you frogs have
your abodes in the water."

"Ah," answered Puff jaw, "you do not know how favored the frogs
are above all other creatures. To us alone the gods have given
the power to live both in the water and on the land. I shall take
you to my land palace that is the other side of the pond."

"How may I go there with you?" asked Crumb Snatcher the mouse,
doubtfully.

"Upon my back," said the frog. "Up now, noble Crumb Snatcher. And
as we go I will show you the wonders of the deep."

He offered his back and Crumb Snatcher bravely mounted. The mouse
put his forepaws around the frog's neck. Then Puff jaw swam out.
Crumb Snatcher at first was pleased to feel himself moving
through the water. But as the dark waves began to rise his mighty
heart began to quail. He longed to be back upon the land. He
groaned aloud.

"How quickly we get on," cried Puff Jaw; "soon we shall be at my
land palace."

Heartened by this speech, Crumb Snatcher put his tail into the
water and worked it as a steering oar. On and on they went, and
Crumb Snatcher gained heart for the adventure. What a wonderful
tale he would have to tell to the clans of the mice!

But suddenly, outof the depths of the pond, a water snake raised
his horrid head. Fearsome did that head seem to both mouse and
frog. And forgetful of the guest that he carried upon his back,
Puff jaw dived down into the water. He reached the bottom of the
pond and lay on the mud in safety.

But far from safety was Crumb Snatcher the mouse. He sank and
rose, and sank again. His wet fur weighed him down. But before he
sank for the last time he lifted up his voice and cried out and
his cry was heard at the brink of the pond:

"Ah, Puff Jaw, treacherous frog! An evil thing you have done,
leaving me to drown in the middle of the pond. Had you faced me
on the land I should have shown you which of us two was the
better warrior. Now I must lose my life in the water. But I tell
you my death shall not go unavenged--the cowardly frogs will be
punished for the ill they have done to me who am the son of the
king of the mice."

Then Crumb Snatcher sank for the last time. But Lick Platter, who
was at the brink of the pond, had heard his words. Straightway
this mouse rushed to the hole of Bread Nibbler and told him of
the death of his princely son.

Bread Nibbler called out the clans of the mice. The warrior mice
armed themselves, and this was the grand way of their arming:

First, the mice put on greaves that covered their forelegs. These
they made out of bean shells broken in two. For shield, each had
a lamp's centerpiece. For spears they had the long bronze needles
that they had carried out of the houses of men. So armed and so
accoutered they were ready to war upon the frogs. And Bread
Nibbler, their king, shouted to them: "Fall upon the cowardly
frogs, and leave not one alive upon the bank of the pond.
Henceforth that bank is ours, and ours only. Forward! "

And, on the other side, Puff jaw was urging the frogs to battle.
"Let us take our places on the edge of the pond," he said, "and
when the mice come amongst us, let each catch hold of one and
throw him into the pond. Thus we will get rid of these dry bobs,
the mice."

The frogs applauded the speech of their king, and straightway
they went to their armor and their weapons. Their legs they
covered with the leaves of mallow. For breastplates they had the
leaves of beets. Cabbage leaves, well cut, made their strong
shields. They took their spears from the pond side--deadly
pointed rushes they were, and they placed upon their heads
helmets that were empty snail shells. So armed and so accoutered
they were ready to meet the grand attack of the mice.

When the robber came to this part of the story Heracles halted
his march, for he was shaking with laughter. The robber stopped
in his story. Heracles slapped him on the leg and said: "What
more of the heroic exploits of the mice?" The second robber said,
"I know no more, but perhaps my brother at the other side of you
can tell you of the mighty combat between them and the frogs."
Then Heracles shifted the first robber from his back to his
front, and the first robber said: "I will tell you what I know
about the heroical combat between the frogs and the mice." And
thereupon he began:

The gnats blew their trumpets. This was the dread signal for war.

Bread Nibbler struck the first blow. He fell upon Loud Crier the
frog, and overthrew him. At this Loud Crier's friend, Reedy,
threw down spear and shield and dived into the water. This seemed
to presage victory for the mice. But then Water Larker, the most
warlike of the frogs, took up a great pebble and flung it at Ham
Nibbler who was then pursuing Reedy. Down fell Ham Nibbler, and
there was dismay in the ranks of the mice.

Then Cabbage Climber, a great-hearted frog, took up a clod
of mud and flung it full at a mouse that was coming furiously
upon him. That mouse's helmet was knocked off and his forehead
was plastered with the clod of mud, so that he was well-nigh
blinded.

It was then that victory inclined to the frogs. Bread Nibbler
again came into the fray. He rushed furiously upon Puff jaw the
king.

Leeky, the trusted friend of Puff jaw, opposed Bread Nibbler's
onslaught. Mightily he drove his spear at the king of the mice.
But the point of the spear broke upon Bread Nibbler's shield, and
then Leeky was overthrown.

Bread Nibbler came upon Puff jaw, and the two great kings faced
each other. The frogs and the mice drew aside, and there was a
pause in the combat. Bread Nibbler the mouse struck Puff jaw the
frog terribly upon the toes.

Puff jaw drew out of the battle. Now all would have been lost for
the frogs had not Zeus, the father of the gods, looked down upon
the battle.

"Dear, dear," said Zeus, "what can be done to save the frogs?
They will surely be annihilated if the charge of yonder mouse is
not halted."

For the father of the gods, looking down, saw a warrior mouse
coming on in the most dreadful onslaught of the whole battle.
Slice Snatcher was the name of this warrior. He had come late
into the field. He waited to split a chestnut in two and to put
the halves upon his paws. Then, furiously dashing amongst the
frogs, he cried out that he would not leave the ground until he
had destroyed the race, leaving the bank of the pond a playground
for the mice and for the mice alone.

To stop the charge of Slice Snatcher there was nothing for Zeus
to do but to hurl the thunderbolt that is the terror of gods and
men.

Frogs and mice were awed by the thunder and the flame. But still
the mice, urged on by Slice Snatcher, did not hold back from
their onslaught upon the frogs.

Now would the frogs have been utterly destroyed; but, as they
dashed on, the mice encountered a new and a dreadful army. The
warriors in these ranks had mailed backs and curving claws. They
had bandy legs and long-stretching arms. They had eyes that
looked behind them. They came on sideways. These were the crabs,
creatures until now unknown to the mice. And the crabs had been
sent by Zeus to save the race of the frogs from utter
destruction.

Coming upon the mice they nipped their paws. The mice turned
around and they nipped their tails. In vain the boldest of the
mice struck at the crabs with their sharpened spears. Not upon
the hard shells on the backs of the crabs did the spears of the
mice make any dint. On and on, on their queer feet and with their
terrible nippers, the crabs went. Bread Nibbler could not rally
them any more, and Slice Snatcher ceased to speak of the monument
of victory that the mice would erect upon the bank of the pond.
With their heads out of the water they had retreated to, the
frogs watched the finish of the battle. The mice threw down their
spears and shields and fled from the battleground. On went the
crabs as if they cared nothing for their victory, and the frogs
came out of the water and sat upon the bank and watched them in
awe.

Heracles had laughed at the diverting tale that the robbers had
told him; he could not bring them then to a place where they
would meet with captivity or death. He let them loose upon the
highway, and the robbers thanked him with highflowing speeches,
and they declared that if they should ever find him sleeping by
the roadway again they would let him lie. Saying this they went
away, and Heracles, laughing as he thought upon the great
exploits of the frogs and mice, went on to Omphale's house.

Omphale, the widow, received him mirthfully, and then set him to
do tasks in the kitchen while she sat and talked to him about
Troy and the affairs of King Laomedon. And afterward she put on
his lion's skin, and went about in the courtyard dragging the
heavy club after her. Mirthfully and pleasantly she made the rest
of his time in Lydia pass for Heracles, and the last day of his
slavery soon came, and he bade good-by to Omphale, that pleasant
widow, and to Lydia, and he started off for Calydon to claim his
bride Deianira.

Beautiful indeed Deianira looked now that she had ceased to mourn
for her brother, for the laughter that had been under her grief
always now flashed out even while she looked priestesslike and of
good counsel; her dark eyes shone like stars, and her being had
the spirit of one who wanders from camp to camp, always greeting
friends and leaving friends behind her. Heracles and Deianira
wed, and they set out for Tiryns, where a king had left a kingdom
to Heracles.

They came to the River Evenus. Heracles could have crossed the
river by himself, but he could not cross it at the part he came
to, carrying Deianira. He and she went along the river, seeking a
ferry that might take them across. They wandered along the side
of the river, happy with each other, and they came to a place
where they had sight of a centaur.

Heracles knew this centaur. He was Nessus, one of the centaurs
whom he had chased up the mountain the time when he went to hunt
the Erymanthean boar. The centaurs knew him, and Nessus spoke to
Heracles as if he had friendship for him. He would, he said,
carry Heracles's bride across the river.

Then Heracles crossed the river, and he waited on the other side
for Nessus and Deianira. Nessus went to another part of the river
to make his crossing. Then Heracles, upon the other bank, heard
screams--the screams of his wife, Deianira. He saw that the
centaur was savagely attacking her.

Then Heracles leveled his bow and he shot at Nessus. Arrow after
arrow he shot into the centaur's body. Nessus loosed his
hold on Deianira, and he lay down on the bank of the river, his
lifeblood streaming from him.

Then Nessus, dying, but with his rage against Heracles unabated,
thought of a way by which the hero might be made to suffer for
the death he had brought upon him. He called to Deianira, and
she, seeing he could do her no more hurt, came close to him. He
told her that in repentance for his attack upon her he would
bestow a great gift upon her. She was to gather up some of the
blood that flowed from him; his blood, the centaur said, would be
a love philter, and if ever her husband's love for her waned it
would grow fresh again if she gave to him something from her
hands that would have this blood upon it.

Deianira, who had heard from Heracles of the wisdom of the
centaurs, believed what Nessus told her. She took a phial and let
the blood pour into it. Then Nessus plunged into the river and
died there as Heracles came up to where Deianira stood.

She did not speak to him about the centaur's words to her, nor
did she tell him that she had hidden away the phial that had
Nessus's blood in it. They crossed the river at another point and
they came after a time to Tiryns and to the kingdom that had been
left to Heracles.

There Heracles and Deianira lived, and a son who was named Hyllos
was born to them. And after a time Heracles was led into a war
with Eurytus--Eurytus who was king of Oichalia.

Word came to Deianira that Oichalia was taken by Heracles, and
that the king and his daughter Iole were held captive.
Deianira knew that Heracles had once tried to win this maiden for
his wife, and she feared that the sight of Iole would bring his
old longing back to him.

She thought upon the words that Nessus had said to her, and even
as she thought upon them messengers came from Heracles to ask her
to send him a robe--a beautifully woven robe that she had--that
he might wear it while making a sacrifice. Deianira took down the
robe; through this robe, she thought, the blood of the centaur
could touch Heracles and his love for her would revive. Thinking
this she poured Nessus's blood over the robe.

Heracles was in Oichalia when the messengers returned to him. He
took the robe that Deianira sent, and he went to a mountain that
overlooked the sea that he might make the sacrifice there. Iole
went with him. Then he put on the robe that Deianira had sent.
When it touched his flesh the robe burst into flame. Heracles
tried to tear it off, but deeper and deeper into his flesh the
flames went. They burned and burned and none could quench them.

Then Heracles knew that his end was near. He would die by fire,
and knowing that he piled up a great heap of wood and he climbed
upon it. There he stayed with the flaming robe burning into him,
and he begged of those who passed to fire the pile that his end
might come more quickly.

None would fire the pile. But at last there came that way a young
warrior named Philoctetes, and Heracles begged of him to fire the
pile. Philoctetes, knowing that it was the will of
the gods that Heracles should die that way, lighted the pile. For
that Heracles bestowed upon him his great bow and his unerring
arrows. And it was this bow and these arrows, brought from
Philoctetes, that afterward helped to take Priam's city.

The pile that Heracles stood upon was fired. High up, above the
sea, the pile burned. All who were near that burning fled--all
except Iole, that childlike maiden. She stayed and watched the
flames mount up and up. They wrapped the sky, and the voice of
Heracles was heard calling upon Zeus. Then a great chariot came
and Heracles was borne away to Olympus. Thus, after many labors,
Heracles passed away, a mortal passing into an immortal being in
a great burning high above the sea.



V. ADMETUS

I

It happened once that Zeus would punish Apollo, his son. Then he
banished him from Olympus, and he made him put off his divinity
and appear as a mortal man. And as a mortal Apollo sought to earn
his bread amongst men. He came to the house of King Admetus and
took service with him as his herdsman.

For a year Apollo served the young king, minding his herds of
black cattle. Admetus did not know that it was one of the
immortal gods who was in his house and in his fields. But he
treated him in friendly wise, and Apollo was happy whilst serving
Admetus.

Afterward people wondered at Admetus's ever-smiling face and
everradiant being. It was the god's kindly thought of him that
gave him such happiness. And when Apollo was leaving his house
and his fields he revealed himself to Admetus, and he made a
promise to him that when the god of the Underworld sent Death for
him he would have one more chance of baffling Death than any
mortal man.

That was before Admetus sailed on the Argo with Jason and the
companions of the quest. The companionship of Admetus brought
happiness to many on the voyage, but the hero to whom it gave the
most happiness was Heracles. And often Heracles would have
Admetus beside him to tell him about the radiant god Apollo,
whose bow and arrows Heracles had been given.

After that voyage and after the hunt in Calydon Admetus went back
to his own land. There he wed that fair and loving woman,
Alcestis. He might not wed her until he had yoked lions and
leopards to the chariot that drew her. This was a feat that no
hero had been able to accomplish. With Apollo's aid he
accomplished it. Thereafter Admetus, having the love of Alcestis,
was even more happy than he had been before.

One day as he walked by fold and through pasture field he saw a
figure standing beside his herd of black cattle. A radiant figure
it was, and Admetus knew that this was Apollo come to him again.
He went toward the god and he made reverence and began to speak
to him. But Apollo turned to Admetus a face that was without joy.

"What years of happiness have been mine, O Apollo, through your
friendship for me," said Admetus. "Ah, as I walked my pasture
land today it came into my mind how much I loved this green earth
and the blue sky! And all that I know of love and happiness has
come to me through you."

But still Apollo stood before him with a face that was without
joy. He spoke and his voice was not that clear and vibrant voice
that he had once in speaking to Admetus. "Admetus, Admetus," he
said, "it is for me to tell you that you may no more look on the
blue sky nor walk upon the green earth. It is for me to tell you
that the god of the Underworld will have you come to him.
Admetus, Admetus, know that even now the god of the Underworld is
sending Death for you."

Then the light of the world went out for Admetus, and he heard
himself speaking to Apollo in a shaking voice: "O Apollo, Apollo,
tliou art a god, and surely thou canst save me! Save me now from
this Death that the god of the Underworld is sending for me!"

But Apollo said, "Long ago, Admetus, I made a bargain with the
god of the Underworld on thy behalf. Thou hast been given a
chance more than any mortal man. If one will go willingly in thy
place with Death, thou canst still live on. Go, Admetus. Thou art
well loved, and it may be that thou wilt find one to take thy
place."

Then Apollo went up unto the mountaintop and Admetus stayed for a
while beside the cattle. It seemed to him that a little of the
darkness had lifted from the world. He would go to his palace.
There were aged men and women there, servants and slaves, and one
of them would surely be willing to take the king's place and go
with Death down to the Underworld.

So Admetus thought as he went toward the palace. And then he came
upon an ancient woman who sat upon stones in the courtyard,
grinding corn between two stones. Long had she been doing that
wearisome labor. Admetus had known her from the first time he had
come into that courtyard as a little child, and he had never seen
aught in her face but a heavy misery. There she was sitting as he
had first known her, with her eyes bleared and her knees shaking,
and with the dust of the courtyard and the husks of the corn in
her matted hair. He went to her and spoke to her, and he asked
her to take the place of the king and go with Death.

But when she heard the name of Death horror came into the face of
the ancient woman, and she cried out that she would not let Death
come near her. Then Admetus left her, and he came upon another,
upon a sightless man who held out a shriveled hand for the food
that the servants of the palace might bestow upon him. Admetus
took the man's shriveled hand, and he asked him if he would not
take the king's place and go with Death that was coming for him.
The sightless man, with howls and shrieks, said he would not go.

Then Admetus went into the palace and into the chamber where his
bed was, and he lay down upon the bed and he lamented that he
would have to go with Death that was coming for him from the god
of the Underworld, and he lamented that none of the wretched ones
around the palace would take his place.

A hand was laid upon him. He looked up and he saw his tall and
grave-eyed wife, Alcestis, beside him. Alcestis spoke to him
slowly and gravely. "I have heard what you have said, O my
husband," said she. "One should go in your place, for you are the
king and have many great affairs to attend to. And if none other
will go, I, Alcestis, will go in your place, Admetus."

It had seemed to Admetus that ever since he had heard the words
of Apollo that heavy footsteps were coming toward him. Now the
footsteps seemed to stop. It was not so terrible for him as
before. He sprang up, and he took the hands of Alcestis and he
said, "You, then, will take my place?"

"I will go with Death in your place, Admetus," Alcestis said.

Then, even as Admetus looked into her face, he saw a pallor come
upon her; her body weakened and she sank down upon the bed. Then,
watching over her, he knew that not he but Alcestis would go with
Death. And the words he had spoken he would have taken back--the
words that had brought her consent to go with Death in his place.

Paler and weaker Alcestis grew. Death would soon be here for her.
No, not here, for he would not have Death come into the palace.
He lifted Alcestis from the bed and he carried her from the
palace. He carried her to the temple of the gods. He laid her
there upon the bier and waited there beside her. No more speech
came from her. He went back to the palace where all was silent--
the servants moved about with heads bowed, lamenting silently for
their mistress.

II

As Admetus was coming back from the temple he heard a great
shout; he looked up and saw one standing at the palace doorway.
He knew him by his lion's skin and his great height. This was
Heracles--Heracles come to visit him, but come at a sad hour. He
could not now rejoice in the company of Heracles. And yet
Heracles might be on his way from the accomplishment of some
great labor, and it would not be right to say a word that might
turn him away from his doorway; he might have much need of rest
and refreshment.

Thinking this Admetus went up to Heracles and took his hand and
welcomed him into his house. "How is it with you, friend
Admetus?" Heracles asked. Admetus would only say that nothing was
happening in his house and that Heracles, his hero-companion, was
welcome there. His mind was upon a great sacrifice, he said, and
so he would not be able to feast with him.

The servants brought Heracles to the bath, and then showed him
where a feast was laid for him. And as for Admetus, he went
within the chamber, and knelt beside the bed on which Alcestis
had lain, and thought of his terrible loss.

Heracles, after the bath, put on the brightly colored tunic that
the servants of Admetus brought him. He put a wreath upon his
head and sat down to the feast. It was a pity, he thought, that
Admetus was not feasting with him. But this was only the first of
many feasts. And thinking of what companionship he would have
with Admetus, Heracles left the feasting hall and came to where
the servants were standing about in silence.

"Why is the house of Admetus so hushed to-day?" Heracles asked.

"It is because of what is befalling," said one of the servants.

"Ah, the sacrifice that the king is making," said Heracles. "To
what god is that sacrifice due?"

"To the god of the Underworld," said the servant. "Death is
coming to Alcestis the queen where she lies on a bier in the
temple of the gods."

Then the servant told Heracles the story of how Alcestis had
taken her husband's place, going in his stead with Death.
Heracles thought upon the sorrow of his friend, and of the great
sacrifice that his wife was making for him. How noble it was of
Admetus to bring him into his house and give entertainment to him
while such sorrow was upon him. And then Heracles felt that
another labor was before him.

"I have dragged up from the Underworld," he thought, "the hound
that guards those whom Death brings down into the realm of the
god of the Underworld. Why should I not strive with Death? And
what a noble thing it would be to bring back this faithful woman
to her house and to her husband! This is a labor that has not
been laid upon me, and it is a labor I will undertake." So
Heracles said to himself.

He left the palace of Admetus and he went to the temple of the
gods. He stood inside the temple and he saw the bier on which
Alcestis was laid. He looked upon the queen. Death had not
touched her yet, although she lay so still and so silent.
Heracles would watch beside her and strive with Death for her.

Heracles watched and Death came. When Death entered the temple
Heracles laid hands upon him. Death had never been gripped by
mortal hands and he strode on as if that grip meant nothing to
him. But then he had to grip Heracles. In Death's grip there was
a strength beyond strength. And upon Heracles a dreadful sense of
loss came as Death laid hands upon him a sense of the loss of
light and the loss of breath and the loss of movement. But
Heracles struggled with Death although his breath went and his
strength seemed to go from him. He held that stony body to him,
and the cold of that body went through him, and its stoniness
seemed to turn his bones to stone, but still Heracles strove with
him, and at last he overthrew him and he held Death down upon the
ground.

"Now you are held by me, Death," cried Heracles. "You are held by
me, and the god of the Underworld will be--made angry because you
cannot go about his business--either this business or any other
business. You are held by me, Death, and you will not be let go
unless you promise to go forth from this temple without bringing
one with you." And Death, knowing that Heracles could hold him
there, and that the business of the god of the Underworld would
be left undone if he were held, promised that he would leave the
temple without bringing one with him. Then Heracles took his grip
off Death, and that stony shape went from the temple.

Soon a flush came into the face of Alcestis as Heracles watched
over her. Soon she arose from the bier on which she had been
laid. She called out to Admetus, and Heracles went to her and
spoke to her, telling her that he would bring her back to her
husband's house.

III

Admetus left the chamber where his wife had lain and stood before
the door of his palace. Dawn was coming, and as he looked toward
the temple he saw Heracles coming to the palace. A woman came
with him. She was veiled, and Admetus could not see her features.

"Admetus," Heracles said, when he came before him, "Admetus,
there is something I would have you do for me. Here is a woman
whom I am bringing back to her husband. I won her from an enemy.
Will you not take her into your house while I am away on a
journey?"

"You cannot ask me to do this, Heracles," said Admetus. "No woman
may come into the house where Alcestis, only yesterday, had her
life."

"For my sake take her into your house," said Heracles. "Come now,
Admetus, take this woman by the hand."

A pang came to Admetus as he looked at the woman who stood beside
Heracles and saw that she was the same stature as his lost wife.
He thought that he could not bear to take her hand. But Heracles
pleaded with him, and he took her by the hand.

"Now take her across your threshold, Admetus," said Heracles.

Hardly could Admetus bear to do this--hardly could he bear to
think of a strange woman being in his house and his own wife gone
with Death. But Heracles pleaded with him, and by the hand he
held he drew the woman across his threshold.

"Now raise her veil, Admetus," said Heracles.

"This I cannot do," said Admetus. "I have had pangs enough. How
can I look upon a woman's face and remind myself that I cannot
look upon Alcestis's face ever again?"

"Raise her veil, Admetus," said Heracles.
Then Admetus raised the veil of the woman he had taken across the
threshold of his house. He saw the face of Alcestis. He looked
again upon his wife brought back from the grip of Death by
Heracles, the son of Zeus. And then a deeper joy than he had ever
known came to Admetus. Once more his wife was with him, and
Admetus the friend of Apollo and the friend of Heracles had all
that he cared to have.


VI. HOW ORPHEUS THE MINSTREL WENT DOWN TO THE WORLD OF THE DEAD

Many were the minstrels who, in the early days, went through the
world, telling to men the stories of the gods, telling of their
wars and their births. Of all these minstrels none was so famous
as Orpheus who had gone with the Argonauts; none could tell truer
things about the gods, for he himself was half divine.

But a great grief came to Orpheus, a grief that stopped his
singing and his playing upon the lyre. His young wife Eurydice
was taken from him. One day, walking in the garden, she was
bitten on the heel by a serpent, and straightway she went down to
the world of the dead.

Then everything in this world was dark and bitter for the
minstrel Orpheus; sleep would not come to him, and for him food
had no taste. Then Orpheus said: "I will do that which no mortal
has ever done before; I will do that which even the immortals
might shrink from doing: I will go down into the world of the
dead, and I will bring back to the living and to the light my
bride Eurydice."

Then Orpheus went on his way to the valley of Acherusia which
goes down, down into the world of the dead. He would never have
found his way to that valley if the trees had not shown him the
way. For as he went along Orpheus played upon his lyre and sang,
and the trees heard his song and they were moved by his grief,
and with their arms and their heads they showed him the way to
the deep, deep valley of Acherusia.

Down, down by winding paths through that deepest and most shadowy
of all valleys Orpheus went. He came at last to the great gate
that opens upon the world of the dead. And the silent guards who
keep watch there for the rulers of the dead were affrighted when
they saw a living being, and they would not let Orpheus approach
the gate.

But the minstrel, knowing the reason for their fear, said: "I am
not Heracles come again to drag up from the world of the dead
your three-headed dog Cerberus. I am Orpheus, and all that my
hands can do is to make music upon my lyre."

And then he took the lyre in his hands and played upon it. As he
played, the silent watchers gathered around him, leaving the gate
unguarded. And as he played the rulers of the dead
came forth, Aidoneus and Persephone, and listened to the words of
the living man.

"The cause of my coming through the dark and fearful ways," sang
Orpheus, "is to strive to gain a fairer fate for Eurydice, my
bride. All that is above must come down to you at last, O rulers
of the most lasting world. But before her time has Eurydice been
brought here. I have desired strength to endure her loss, but I
cannot endure it. And I come before you, Aidoneus and Persephone,
brought here by Love."

When Orpheus said the name of Love, Persephone, the queen of the
dead, bowed her young head, and bearded Aidoneus, the king, bowed
his head also. Persephone remembered how Demeter, her mother, had
sought her all through the world, and she remembered the touch of
her mother's tears upon her face. And Aidoneus remembered how his
love for Persephone had led him to carry her away from the valley
in the upper world where she had been gathering flowers. He and
Persephone bowed their heads and stood aside, and Orpheus went
through the gate and came amongst the dead.

Still upon his lyre he played. Tantalus--who, for his crimes, had
been condemned to stand up to his neck in water and yet never be
able to assuage his thirst--Tantalus heard, and for a while did
not strive to put his lips toward the water that ever flowed away
from him; Sisyphus--who had been condemned to roll up a hill a
stone that ever rolled back Sisyphus heard the music that Orpheus
played, and for a while he sat still upon his stone. And even
those dread ones who bring to the dead the memories of all their
crimes and all their faults, even the Eumenides had their cheeks
wet with tears.

In the throng of the newly come dead Orpheus saw Eurydice. She
looked upon her husband, but she had not the power to come near
him. But slowly she came when Aidoneus called her. Then with joy
Orpheus took her hands.

It would be granted them--no mortal ever gained such privilege
before to leave, both together, the world of the dead, and to
abide for another space in the world of the living. One condition
there would be--that on their way up through the valley of
Acherusia neither Orpheus nor Eurydice should look back.

They went through the gate and came amongst the watchers that are
around the portals. These showed them the path that went up
through the valley of Acherusia. That way they went, Orpheus and
Eurydice, he going before her.

Up and up through the darkened ways they went, Orpheus knowing,
that Eurydice was behind him, but never looking back upon her.
But as he went, his heart was filled with things to tell--how the
trees were blossoming in the garden she had left; how the water
was sparkling in the fountain; how the doors of the house stood
open, and how they, sitting together, would watch the sunlight on
the laurel bushes. All these things were in his heart to tell
her, to tell her who came behind him, silent and unseen.

And now they were nearing the place where the valley of Acherusia
opened on the world of the living. Orpheus looked on the blue of
the sky. A white-winged bird flew by. Orpheus turned around and
cried, "O Eurydice, look upon the world that I have won you back
to!"

He turned to say this to her. He saw her with her long dark hair
and pale face. He held out his arms to clasp her. But in that
instant she slipped back into the depths of the valley. And all
he heard spoken was a single word, "Farewell!" Long, long had it
taken Eurydice to climb so far, but in the moment of his turning
around she had fallen back to her place amongst the dead.

Down through the valley of Acherusia Orpheus went again. Again he
came before the watchers of the gate. But now he was not looked
at nor listened to, and, hopeless, he had to return to the world
of the living.

The birds were his friends now, and the trees and the stones. The
birds flew around him and mourned with him; the trees and stones
often followed him, moved by the music of his lyre. But a savage
band slew Orpheus and threw his severed head and his lyre into
the River Hebrus. It is said by the poets that while they floated
in midstream the lyre gave out some mournful notes and the head
of Orpheus answered the notes with song.

And now that he was no longer to be counted with the living,
Orpheus went down to the world of the dead, not going now by that
steep descent through the valley of Acherusia, but going down
straightway. The silent watchers let him pass, and he went
amongst the dead and saw his Eurydice in the throng. Again they
were together, Orpheus and Eurydice, and as they went through the
place that King Aidoneus ruled over, they had no fear of looking
back, one upon the other.


VII. JASON AND MEDEA

Jason and Medea, unable to win to Iolcus, staved at Corinth, at
the court of King Creon. Creon was proud to have Jason in his
city, but of Medea the king was fearful, for he had heard how she
had brought about the death of Apsyrtus, her brother.

Medea wearied of this long waiting in the palace of King Creon. A
longing came upon her to exercise her powers of enchantment. She
did not forget what Queen Arete had said to her--that if she
wished to appease the wrath of the gods she should have no more
to do with enchantments. She did not forget this, but still there
grew in her a longing to use all her powers of enchantment.

And Jason, at the court of King Creon, had his longings, too. He
longed to enter Iolcus and to show the people the Golden Fleece
that he had won; he longed to destroy Pelias, the mur
derer of his mother and father; above all he longed to be a king,
and to rule in the kingdom that Cretheus had founded.

Once Jason spoke to Medea of his longing. "O Jason," Medea said,
"I have done many things for thee and this thing also I will do.
I will go into Iolcus, and by my enchantments I will make clear
the way for the return of the Argo and for thy return with thy
comrades-yea, and for thy coming to the kingship, O Jason."

He should have remembered then the words of Queen Arete to Medea,
but the longing that he had for his triumph and his revenge was
in the way of his remembering. He said, "O Medea, help me in this
with all thine enchantments and thou wilt be more dear to me than
ever before thou wert."

Medea then went forth from the palace of King Creon and she made
more terrible spells than ever she had made in Colchis. All night
she stayed in a tangled place weaving her spells. Dawn came, and
she knew that the spells she had woven had not been in vain, for
beside her there stood a car that was drawn by dragons.

Medea the Enchantress had never looked on these dragon shapes
before. When she looked upon them now she was fearful of them.
But then she said to herself, "I am Medea, and I would be a
greater enchantress and a more cunning woman than I have been,
and what I have thought of, that will I carry out." She mounted
the car drawn by the dragons, and in the first light of the day
she went from Corinth.

To the places where grew the herbs of magic Medea journeyed in
her dragon-drawn car--to the Mountains Ossa, Pelion, Oethrys,
Pindus, and Olympus; then to the rivers Apidanus, Enipeus, and
Peneus. She gathered herbs on the mountains and grasses on the
rivers' banks; some she plucked up by the roots and some she cut
with the curved blade of a knife. When she had gathered these
herbs and grasses she went back to Corinth on her dragon-drawn
car.

Then Jason saw her; pale and drawn was her face, and her eyes
were strange and gleaming. He saw her standing by the car drawn
by the dragons, and a terror of Medea came into his mind. He went
toward her, but in a harsh voice she bade him not come near to
disturb the brewing that she was going to begin. Jason turned
away. As he went toward the palace he saw Glauce, King Creon's
daughter; the maiden was coming from the well and she carried a
pitcher of water. He thought how fair Glauce looked in the light
of the morning, how the wind played with her hair and her
garments, and how far away she was from witcheries and
enchantments.

As for Medea, she placed in a heap beside her the magic herbs and
grasses she had gathered. Then she put them in a bronze pot and
boiled them in water from the stream. Soon froth came on the
boiling, and Medea stirred the pot with a withered branch of an
apple tree. The branch was withered it was indeed no more than a
dry stick, but as she stirred the herbs and grasses with it,
first leaves, then flowers, and lastly, bright gleaming apples
came on it. And when the pot boiled over and drops from it fell
upon the ground, there grew up out of the dry earth soft grasses
and flowers. Such was the power of renewal that was in the
magical brew that Medea had made.

She filled a phial with the liquid she had brewed, and she
scattered the rest in the wild places of the garden. Then, taking
the phial and the apples that had grown on the withered branch,
she mounted the car drawn by the dragons, and she went once more
from Corinth.

On she journeyed in her dragon-drawn car until she came to a
place that was near to Iolcus. There the dragons descended. They
had come to a dark pool. Medea, making herself naked, stood in
that dark pool. For a while she looked down upon herself, seeing
in the dark water her white body and her lovely hair. Then she
bathed herself in the water. Soon a dread change came over her:
she saw her hair become scant and gray, and she saw her body
become bent and withered. She stepped out of the pool a withered
and witchlike woman; when she dressed herself the rich clothes
that she had worn before hung loosely upon her, and she looked
the more forbidding because of them. She bade the dragons go, and
they flew through the air with the empty car. Then she hid in her
dress the phial with the liquid she had brewed and, the apples
that had grown upon the withered branch. She picked up a stick to
lean upon, and with the gait of an ancient woman she went
hobbling upon the road to Iolcus.

On the streets of the city the fierce fighting men that Pelias
had brought down from the mountains showed themselves; few of the
men or women of the city showed themselves even in the daytime.
Medea went through the city and to the palace of King Pelias. But
no one might enter there, and the guards laid hands upon her and
held her.

Medea did not struggle with them. She drew from the folds of her
dress one of the gleaming apples that she carried and she gave it
to one of the guards. "It is for King Pelias," she said. " Give
the apple to him and then do with me as the king would have you
do."

The guards brought the gleaming apple to the king. When he had
taken it into his hand and had smelled its fragrance, old
trembling Pelias asked where the apple had come from. The guards
told him it had been brought by an ancient woman who was now
outside seated on a stone in the courtyard.

He looked on the shining apple and he felt its fragrance and he
could not help thinking, old trembling Pelias, that this apple
might be the means of bringing him back to the fullness of health
and courage that he had had before. He sent for the ancient woman
who had brought it that she might tell him where it had come from
and who it was that had sent it to him. Then the guards brought
Medea before him.

She saw an old man, white-faced and trembling, with shaking hands
and eyes that looked on her fearfully. "Who are you," he asked,
"and from whence came the apple that you had them bring me?"

Medea, standing before him, looked a withered and shrunken
beldame, a woman bent with years, but yet with eyes that were
bright and living. She came near him and she said: "The apple, O
King, came from the garden that is watched over by the Daughters
of the Evening Land. He who eats it has a little of the weight of
old age taken from him. But things more wonderful even than the
shining apples grow in that far garden. There are plants there
the juices of which make youthful again all aged and failing
things. The apple would bring you a little way toward the vigor
of your prime. But the juices I have can bring you to a time more
wonderful--back even to the strength and the glory of your
youth."

When the king heard her say this a light came into his heavy
eyes, and his hands caught Medea and drew her to him. "Who are
you?" he cried, "who speak of the garden watched over by the
Daughters of the Evening Land? Who are you who speak of juices
that can bring back one to the strength and glory of his youth?"

Medea answered: "I am a woman who has known many and great
griefs, O king. My griefs have brought me through the world. Many
have searched for the garden watched over by the Daughters of the
Evening Land, but I came to it unthinkingly, and without wanting
them I gathered the gleaming apples and took from the plants
there the juices that can bring youth back."

Pelias said: "If you have been able to come by those juices, how
is it that you remain in woeful age and decrepitude?"

She said: "Because of my many griefs, king, I would not renew my
life. I would be ever nearer death and the end of all things. But
you are a king and have all things you desire at your hand--
beauty and state and power. Surely if any one would desire it,
you would desire to have youth back to you."

Pelias, when he heard her say this, knew that besides youth there
was nothing that he desired. After crimes that had gone through
the whole of his manhood he had secured for himself the kingdom
that Cretheus had founded. But old age had come on him, and the
weakness of old age, and the power he had won was falling from
his hands. He would be overthrown in his weakness, or else he
would soon come to die, and there would be an end then to his
name and to his kingship.

How fortunate above all kings he would be, he thought, if it
could be that some one should come to him with juices that would
renew his youth! He looked longingly into the eyes of the
ancient-seeming woman before him, and he said: "How is it that
you show no gains from the juices that you speak of? You are old
and in woeful decrepitude. Even if you would not win back to
youth you could have got riches and state for that which you say
you possess."

Then Medea said: "I have lost so much and have suffered so much
that I would not have youth back at the price of facing the
years. I would sink down to the quiet of the grave. But
I hope for some ease before I die--for the ease that is in king's
houses, with good food to eat, and rest, and servants to wait
upon one's aged body. These are the things I desire, O Pelias,
even as you desire youth. You can give me such things, and I have
come to you who desire youth eagerly rather than to kings who
have a less eager desire for it. To you I will give the juices
that bring one back to the strength and the glory of youth."

Pelias said: "I have only your word for it that you possess these
juices. Many there are who come and say deceiving things to a
king."

Said Medea: "Let there be no more words between us, O king.
To-morrow I will show you the virtue of the juices I have brought
with me. Have a great vat prepared--a vat that a man could lay
himself in with the water covering him. Have this vat filled with
water, and bring to it the oldest creature you can get--a ram or
a goat that is the oldest of their flock. Do this, O king, and
you will be shown a thing to wonder at and to be hopeful over."

So Medea said, and then she turned around and left the king's
presence. Pelias called to his guards and he bade them take the
woman into their charge and treat her considerately. The guards
took Medea away. Then all day the king mused on what had been
told him and a wild hope kept beating about his heart. He had the
servants prepare a great vat in the lower chambers, and he had
his shepherd bring him a ram that was the oldest in the flock.

Only Medea was permitted to come into that chamber with the king;
the ways to it were guarded, and all that took place in it was
secret. Medea was brought to the closed door by her guard. She
opened it and she saw the king there and the vat already
prepared; she saw a ram tethered near the vat.

Medea looked upon the king. In the light of the torches his face
was white and fierce and his mouth moved gaspingly. She spoke to
him quietly, and said: "There is no need for you to hear me
speak. You will watch a great miracle, for behold! the ram which
is the oldest and feeblest in the flock will become young and
invigorated when it comes forth from this vat."

She untethered the ram, and with the help of Pelias drew it to
the vat. This was not hard to do, for the beast was very feeble;
its feet could hardly bear it upright, its wool was yellow and
stayed only in patches on its shrunken body. Easily the beast was
forced into the vat. Then Medea drew the phial out of her bosom
and poured into the water some of the brew she had made in
Creon's garden in Corinth. The water in the vat took on a strange
bubbling, and the ram sank down.

Then Medea, standing beside the vat, sang an incantation.

"O Earth," she sang, "O Earth who dost provide wise men with
potent herbs, O Earth help me now. I am she who can drive the
clouds; I am she who can dispel the winds; I am she who can break
the jaws of serpents with my incantations; I am she who can
uproot living trees and rocks; who can make the mountains shake;
who can bring the ghosts from their tombs. O Earth, help me now."
At this strange incantation the mixture in the vat boiled and
bubbled more and more. Then the boiling and bubbling ceased. Up
to the surface came the ram. Medea helped it to struggle out of
the vat, and then it turned and smote the vat with its head.

Pelias took down a torch and stood before the beast. Vigorous
indeed was the ram, and its wool was white and grew evenly upon
it. They could not tether it again, and when the.servants were
brought into the chamber it took two of them to drag away the
ram.

The king was most eager to enter the vat and have Medea put in
the brew and speak the incantation over it. But Medea bade him
wait until the morrow. All night the king lay awake, thinking of
how he might regain his youth and his strength and be secure and
triumphant thereafter.

At the first light he sent for Medea and he told her that he
would have the vat made ready and that he would go into it that
night. Medea looked upon him, and the helplessness that he showed
made her want to work a greater evil upon him, or, if not upon
him, upon his house. How soon it would have reached its end, all
her plot for the destruction of this king! But she would leave in
the king's house a misery that would not have an end so soon.

So she said to the king: "I would say the incantation over a
beast of the field, but over a king I could not say it. Let those
of your own blood be with you when you enter the vat that will
bring such change to you. Have your daughters there. I will give
them the juice to mix in the vat, and I will teach them the
incantation that has to be said."

So she said, and she made Pelias consent to having his daughters
and not Medea in the chamber of the vat. They were sent for and
they came before Medea, the daughters of King Pelias.

They were women who had been borne down by the tyranny of their
father; they stood before him now, two dim-eyed creatures, very
feeble and fearful. To them Medea gave the phial that had in it
the liquid to mix in the vat; also she taught them the words of
the incantation, but she taught them to use these words wrongly.

The vat was prepared in the lower chambers; Pelias and his
daughters went there, and the chamber was guarded, and what
happened there was in secret. Pelias went into the vat; the brew
was thrown into it, and the vat boiled and bubbled as before.
Pelias sank down in it. Over him then his daughters said the
magic words as Medea had taught them.

Pelias sank down, but he did not rise again. The hours went past
and the morning came, and the daughters of King Pelias raised
frightened laments. Over the sides of the vat the mixture boiled
and bubbled, and Pelias was to be seen at the bottom with his
limbs stiffened in death.

Then the guards came, and they took King Pelias out of the vat
and left him in his royal chamber. The word went through

the palace that the king was dead. There was a hush in the
palace then, but not the hush of grief. One by one servants and
servitors stole away from the palace that was hated by all. Then
there was clatter in the streets as the fierce fighting men from
the mountains galloped away with what plunder they could seize.
And through all this the daughters of King Pelias sat crouching
in fear above the body of their father.

And Medea, still an ancient woman seemingly, went through the
crowds that now came on the streets of the city. She told those
she went amongst that the son of ,Eson was alive and would soon
be in their midst. Hearing this the men of the city formed a
council of elders to rule the people until Jason's coming. In
such way Medea brought about the end of King Pelias's reign.

In triumph she went through the city. But as she was passing the
temple her dress was caught and held, and turning around she
faced the ancient priestess of Artemis, Iphias. "Thou art
Aeetes's daughter," Iphias said, "who in deceit didst come into
Iolcus. Woe to thee and woe to Jason for what thou hast done this
day! Not for the slaying of Pelias art thou blameworthy, but for
the misery that thou hast brought upon his daughters by bringing
them into the guilt of the slaying. Go from the city, daughter of
King ,Eetes; never, never wilt thou come back into it."

But little heed did Medea pay to the ancient priestess, Iphias.
Still in the guise of an old woman she went through the streets
of the city, and out through the gate and along the highway
that led from Iolcus. To that dark pool she came where she had
bathed herself before. But now she did not step into the pool nor
pour its water over her shrinking flesh; instead she built up two
altars of green sods an altar to Youth and an altar to Hecate,
queen of the witches; she wreathed them with green boughs from
the forest, and she prayed before each. Then she made herself
naked, and she anointed herself with the brew she had made from
the magical herbs and grasses. All marks of age and decrepitude
left her, and when she stood over the dark pool and looked down
on herself she saw that her body was white and shapely as before,
and that her hair was soft and lovely.

She stayed all night between the tangled wood and the dark pool,
and with the first light the car drawn by the scaly dragons came
to her. She mounted the car, and she journeyed back to Corinth.

Into Jason's mind a fear of Medea had come since the hour when he
had seen her mount the car drawn by the scaly dragons. He could
not think of her any more as the one who had been his companion
on the Argo. He thought of her as one who could help him and do
wonderful things for him, but not as one whom he could talk
softly and lovingly to. Ah, but if Jason had thought less of his
kingdom and less of his triumphing with the Fleece of Gold, Medea
would not have had the dragons come to her.

And now that his love for Medea had altered, Jason noted the
loveliness of another--of Glauce, the daughter of Creon, the
King of Corinth. And Glauce, who had red lips and the eyes of a
child, saw in Jason who had brought the Golden Fleece out of
Colchis the image of every hero she had heard about in stories.
Creon, the king, often brought Jason and Glauce together, for his
hope was that the hero would wed his daughter and stay in Corinth
and strengthen his kingdom. He thought that Medea, that strange
woman, could not keep a companionship with Jason.

Two were walking in the king's garden, and they were Jason and
Glauce. A shadow fell betwen them, and when Jason looked up he
saw Medea's dragon car. Down flew the dragons, and Medea came
from the car and stood between Jason and the princess. Angrily
she spoke to him. "I have made the kingdom ready for your
return," she said, "but if you would go there you must first let
me deal in my own way with this pretty maiden." And so fiercely
did Medea look upon her that Glance shrank back and clung to
Jason for protection. "O, Jason," she cried, " thou didst say
that I am such a one as thou didst dream of when in the forest
with Chiron, before the adventure of the Golden Fleece drew thee
away from the Grecian lands. Oh, save me now from the power of
her who comes in the dragon car." And Jason said: "I said all
that thou hast said, and I will protect thee, O Glauce."

And then Medea thought of the king's house she had left for
Jason, and of the brother whom she had let be slain, and of the
plot she had carried out to bring Jason back to Iolcus, and a
great fury came over her. In her hand she took foam from the jaws
of the dragons, and she cast the foam upon Glauce, and the
princess fell back into the arms of Jason with the dragon foam
burning into her.

Then, seeing in his eyes that he had forgotten all that he owed
to her the winning of the Golden Fleece, and the safety of Argo,
and the destruction of the power of King Pelias seeing in his
eyes that Jason had forgotten all this, Medea went into her
dragon-borne car and spoke the words that made the scaly dragons
bear her aloft. She flew from Corinth, leaving Jason in King
Creon's garden with Glauce dying in his arms. He lifted her up
and laid her upon a bed, but even as her friends came around her
the daughter of King Creon died.

And Jason? For long he stayed in Corinth, a famous man indeed,
but one sorrowful and alone. But again there grew in him the
desire to rule and to have possessions. He called around him
again the men whose home was in Iolcus--those who had followed
him as bright-eyed youths when he first proclaimed his purpose of
winning the Fleece of Gold. He called them around him, and he led
them on board the Argo. Once more they lifted sails, and once
more they took the Argo into the open sea.

Toward Iolcus they sailed; their passage was fortunate, and in a
short time they brought the Argo safely into the harbor of
Pagasae. Oh, happy were the crowds that came thronging to see the
ship that had the famous Fleece of Gold upon her masthead, and
green and sweet smelling were the garlands that the people
brought to wreathe the heads of Jason and his companions! Jason
looked upon the throngs, and he thought that much had gone from
him, but he thought that whatever else had gone something
remained to him--to be a king and a great ruler over a people.

And so Jason came back to Iolcus. The Argo he made a blazing pile
of in sacrifice to Poseidon, the god of the sea. The Golden
Fleece he hung in the temple of the gods. Then he took up the
rule of the kingdom that Cretheus had founded, and he became the
greatest of the kings of Greece.

And to Iolcus there came, year after year, young men who would
look upon the gleaming thing that was hung there in the temple of
the gods. And as they looked upon it, young man after young man,
the thought would come to each that he would make himself strong
enough and heroic enough to win for his country something as
precious as Jason's GOLDEN FLEECE. And for all their lives they
kept in mind the words that Jason had inscribed upon a pillar
that was placed beside the Fleece of Gold--the words that Triton
spoke to the Argonauts when they were fain to win their way out
of the inland sea:--

THAT IS THE OUTLET TO THE SEA, WHERE THE DEEP WATER LIES UNMOVED
AND DARK; ON EACH SIDE ROLL WHITE BREAKERS WITH SHINING CRESTS;
AND THE WAY BETWEEN FOR YOUR PASSAGE OUT IS NARROW. BUT GO IN
JOY, AND AS FOR LABOR LET THERE BE NO GRIEVING THAT LIMBS IN
YOUTHFUL VIGOR SHOULD STILL TOIL.




End of the Project Gutenberg etext of The Golden Fleece and the
Heroes Who Lived Before Achilles by Padraic Colum.