Jason and the Gorgon's Blood

by Robert J. Harris

  Jason turned away to hide the misery in his face. “What use are those skills and talents if I spend all my days here tending goats and growing vegetables? There’s nothing heroic in that. Or virtuous either.”

  “A time will come when you will need everything I have taught you,” Chiron assured him. “More than that I cannot say.”

  Jason felt the old centaur’s familiar, reassuring hand rest on his shoulder, but for the first time in his life it didn’t help. He shrugged it away.

  “You’d best hurry after them,” the centaur said, removing his hand, “before they get irretrievably lost.”

  CHAPTER 2

  THE WILD BAND

  JASON BOUNDED DOWN THE slope after the other boys, his long blond hair flying about his face. “Hold up! Wait for me!” Melampus stopped and looked back. “Here he comes, nimble as a goat.”

  “Yes, and almost as clean,” Lynceus said.

  “What kept you?” Admetus asked as Jason arrived, puffing, in their midst. “Has Chiron been giving you last-minute instructions?”

  “Like don’t get into trouble,” Idas mocked.

  “And be sure to be back by sunset,” said Melampus, imitating the centaur’s deep voice.

  Lynceus sneered. “And remember to wash behind your ears.” He stuck out his tongue.

  “He was probably told to spy on us,” said Acastus, “so that he can bring back a lot of tales to his master.”

  “I’m no spy!” Jason declared hotly. “I’m as much under Chiron’s discipline as you are.”

  “Well, it’s a bit different for you, isn’t it?” said Acastus witheringly. “You aren’t used to anything better.” He turned his back on Jason and started on down the mountainside.

  Jason understood that they were all taking their aching heads and humiliation out on him. He understood—but that didn’t make it any easier to bear, so he stayed well to the rear of them the rest of the way. After all, in a few days’ time, these well-bred pupils of Chiron’s were due to return home to their families. But Jason had no family and no home other than Chiron and the cave.

  The valley of Daphnis was on the far side of Mount Pelion, and the trek took them a long way from the village, just as Chiron had intended.

  They walked for about an hour before stopping at a stream Jason knew of. It was icy cold, for it came tumbling down from the snowcapped heights of the mountain. After the long hike, the water was especially sweet; the shock of it first in their cupped hands, then in the mouth, was delicious.

  “Look, I’m going to stop here and take a nap,” said Acastus, wiping his palms on his tunic. “I’ll meet up with you all on the way back.”

  “Who said you were exempt from Chiron’s orders?” Admetus challenged him.

  “Don’t you think you can manage without me?” Acastus smiled slowly.

  “That’s not the point.” Admetus’ homely face was stern and his lips were set together in a hard, thin line.

  Fearing a fight, Jason said quickly, “Chiron expects us to work together.”

  “He probably expects to live forever, too, but that’s not going to happen, is it?” Acastus retorted. “This moss over here looks too soft and comfortable to pass up.”

  “I think you should come along,” Idas said very deliberately. “I don’t see why the rest of us should do all the work.” Hands on hips, Idas was like a small mountain, and not—in Jason’s opinion—someone to make mad.

  Acastus gave him a big grin and shrugged. “You can take a nap, too, if you like. Four is more than enough for this little errand. Especially with goat boy to lead the way.”

  “I think we should all go,” said Idas, glowering at the prince.

  “Idas is right,” put in Lynceus. “We wouldn’t want to leave anyone behind. Besides, who knows what dangers might be lurking around here?” He looked over his shoulder as if that danger were right behind him.

  Acastus shrugged again and held up his hands. “Well, if you all insist, I guess I’ll forget about my nap. After all, I am your leader.”

  “Some leader,” Admetus muttered, though only Jason heard him.

  They all bent for one last drink of the cold mountain water and then, following Acastus, continued along the mountain path.

  The valley of Daphnis was crisscrossed with many tiny rivulets, most no more than a trickle or a boggy spot, for it was high summer now and the smaller streams had dried up. Still, the valley was one of the most fertile areas for miles and so a good place to gather plants and herbs.

  While the others knelt on the ground, plucking bits of possible greenery, Acastus perched himself on a rock and rested his chin on his fist, humming some bright tunes. All the while he toyed with his amulet. It was molded in the shape of a stag’s head, with finely wrought antlers and red eyes cut from rubies. More than once Acastus had told the other boys how his father had given him this royal symbol so that, even when he was living rough on Chiron’s mountain, he would always remember that he was a prince.

  As if he lets us forget that for a moment, Jason told himself. Acastus was a braggart who held his rank above his head as if it were a tent to keep him from all ills. Ignore him. Jason knew that if he wanted to become friends with the others, he’d have to accept Acastus, too. Despite his boasting, Acastus really was the group’s head, for his rank as prince of the great city of Iolcus was the highest of them all.

  For an hour Jason was able to do just that—ignore Acastus, who made a point of lolling about. Most of Jason’s time was spent teaching the others which green sprigs were herbs and which were weeds or—worse—which were poisonous. He showed them bawme, with its dark, squarish leaves, and feverfew, which usually grew by low hedges.

  Melampus already knew most of the herbs, though even he did not know bawme, which could only be found in really wild places. The other boys had to be watched constantly, for they seemed incapable of remembering for more than a moment the difference between herbs and weeds.

  The worst was Acastus, who didn’t pick a single thing nor move from his perch. Finally Jason could stand no more. Striding over to the rock, he stood right in front of the prince.

  “I suppose you expect even tiny plants to come running in answer to your royal decree,” he said. He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks.

  “What a strange idea,” said Acastus, raising an eyebrow, “that plants should come running.” He laughed. “Have you been at the wine again, Jason?” He tutted disapprovingly. “No virtue in that, you know.”

  “Well, what do you think you’re doing?” Jason persisted.

  Acastus put his head back on his hands in an exaggerated manner, as if giving this much thought. Then he looked up and yawned. “I’m working out our route back to the cave. The way you brought us was far too long and arduous; too many boulders. There must be an easier way.”

  The other boys had all stopped their work and were listening to the exchange, their hands full of greenery.

  “There’s going to be a fight,” Lynceus said.

  “Good,” said Idas. “I was getting bored. I bet you that onyx necklace of yours that Acastus wins.”

  “And what do I get if I win the bet?” Lynceus asked.

  “You get to keep your onyx necklace.”

  “I think Jason will win,” said Admetus.

  The others laughed.

  “And those pigs we rode last night will sprout wings and fly,” Lynceus said. “Acastus has him in both weight and height.”

  Jason barely heard this exchange, for he was fully concentrating on Acastus, who seemed determined to bait him.

  “Surely,” Jason said slowly, “you can think and gather herbs at the same time.”

  Acastus stretched his arms and straightened his back. “When we get back, you can tell Chiron what a bad boy I’ve been,” he drawled.

  “I won’t tell him anything,” said Jason. “I’m not a tell-all.” There, that should do it. Now we can both claim victory. But then he added, “Still, I expect you to do your share.” />
  “You expect?” Acastus laughed. “And who are you? A peasant boy whose parents threw him out to make room for more goats.”

  That was so close to what Jason feared, he shot back without thinking. “And what did your father throw you out for?”

  This obviously hit too close to the bone. Acastus jumped to his feet and shoved Jason backward with both hands. Jason staggered and only narrowly avoided tumbling into a pricker bush.

  “If Chiron is such a wise teacher, he should have taught you to know your place, Goat Boy. Be careful what you say to princes. Don’t raise your voice to them, don’t talk back to them, and never … never … presume.” Acastus’ face blazed red. “If this were my father’s palace, you’d be whipped for saying such a thing.”

  Hoi, Jason thought, and what a sore spot that is! He suddenly realized that another word on the matter and he would provoke Acastus beyond any kind of apology. Then a fight between them would be inevitable. Chiron had warned him repeatedly that the virtuous man does not fight unless there is no other choice. And while Jason knew he could probably hold his own in a fight with Acastus—despite the prince’s greater height and weight—he immediately lowered his voice. “Do what you like, Prince Acastus. We need to be finished here before it gets dark.”

  He turned to rejoin the others as they finished gathering the herbs.

  “So you’re afraid of the dark as well,” said Acastus, his voice like a sting.

  Jason felt his fingers curl into fists, all of Chiron’s words of wisdom drowned out by the drumbeat pounding in his head.

  “What’s that?” Admetus exclaimed suddenly.

  In the distance Jason could hear an ominous rumble. So the drumbeat wasn’t just in his head.

  “Is it thunder?” Melampus rubbed his brow and squinted at the sky.

  Admetus looked up as well. “No, the sky is clear.”

  “It sounds like horses,” said Idas.

  “Idas is right,” said Lynceus. “Maybe it’s chariots.”

  Acastus kicked a stone. “That would be just our luck, running into a raiding party of Thracian charioteers. May the gods curse Chiron for sending us out here in the middle of nowhere without our weapons!”

  “A lot of use weapons would do the six of us against a Thracian war band,” said Admetus.

  Jason listened carefully to the sound. He knew he’d heard it before. Then he had it. Turning to the others, he said, “That’s not thunder or horses or a war band of charioteers. It’s something much worse.”

  “What are you talking about, Goat Boy?” snapped Acastus.

  Before Jason could answer, Lynceus was pointing to a cloud of dust at the far end of the valley. “There!”

  “What is it?” Idas demanded. “What do you see?”

  Lynceus strained his sharp eyes to identify the forms emerging from the dust. “Horses,” he said.

  “Hah!” That was Idas.

  “But I see men as well.”

  “Chariots, then,” said Admetus.

  Lynceus shook his head. “No, Jason is right. It’s something else.”

  By now they could all see what was approaching—a band of centaurs, a dozen of them at least, their long hair flying as they galloped down the valley.

  “What do you think they want?” Melampus asked.

  “Maybe to lecture us on knowledge and virtue,” drawled Acastus.

  “These centaurs aren’t like Chiron,” Jason warned. “They’re wild.”

  “A bit like us,” Lynceus joked, “except with twice as many legs.”

  Before anyone could laugh at his joke, the centaurs were in the clearing, brandishing wooden clubs over their heads and whooping ferociously, heading straight for the boys.

  Jason recognized the leader. His name was Nessus, and about a year before, he’d staggered into Chiron’s cave, his flank ripped open by the spear of a Thessalian hunter. Pale and shaking, he’d collapsed on the floor before Chiron could catch him. In spite of the awful wound, Chiron had cured him, and Nessus had left a few days later. And without a single word of gratitude, Jason recalled.

  Nessus wore what looked worryingly like a human skull suspended from a leather cord around his neck. The others sported necklaces and bracelets made from bones, claws, and horns. They’d painted the human parts of their bodies with streaks of dark blue and bloodred, which gave them a savage, warlike appearance.

  “Not like us at all,” Jason told the boys quickly. “Chiron calls them a ‘rough and careless breed.’ They live on raw meat, are usually drunk, and filled with rage. Chiron says they fight all the time, even among themselves.”

  “They do look dangerous,” Admetus whispered.

  “They are dangerous,” Jason said. “Chiron told me they kill humans who annoy them. He said that if I see any of them to just get out of the way.”

  “Then why are we just standing here?” Acastus demanded. “We need to get to a spot we can defend.” He started toward a cluster of rocks, waving to the others to follow.

  “No, this way!” shouted Admetus, dashing toward a stream. “The water will slow them down.”

  Melampus started to follow him, then hesitated, torn between the two princes.

  “Stop!” Jason cried. “We have to stay together.”

  But it was too late. Idas and Lynceus had already bolted off in a third direction of their own.

  At the sight of the boys fleeing, the centaurs redoubled their whoops and galloped even faster to intercept them. Two with dappled bodies pulled ahead of Acastus before he could reach the rocks. He stumbled back, arms shielding his head as the centaurs trotted around him, shaking their clubs.

  Another centaur, with a long gray tail, caught up with Admetus and cuffed him on the back of the head, knocking him flat. Admetus scrambled desperately away, got up, and staggered back toward Jason.

  The two brothers were cut off as well, by a trio of dark-bodied centaurs who herded them toward the rest.

  “You didn’t even try to get away,” Acastus said, sneering at Jason.

  “I stood my ground,” Jason retorted. “All you did was give them some sport. And showed them how weak we are.”

  Now the centaurs had formed a loose circle around them and were whirling their weapons in the air. Occasionally one would rise up on his back legs, front feet pawing the air. They shouted back and forth to one another, mocking the boys with their neighing laughter.

  The boys pressed together, back to back, as the centaurs drew closer.

  “What do we do now?” Acastus whispered to Jason.

  “I wish I knew,” Jason said, his voice cracking on the final word.

  CHAPTER 3

  BAD OMENS

  THE BIG CENTAUR NESSUS fixed Jason with a contemptuous glare. “Look, here’s Chiron’s pet boy.”

  “So, are you all pupils of the good and wise Chiron?” sneered a centaur to his right, whose eyebrows met in the middle, which only added to his bestial appearance.

  “What are you doing out here in the wild? Hunting monsters?” cried a third. His horse body was spotted, as if with some terrible disease. “Perhaps you’ve found them!” He beat his fists on his chest.

  All of the centaurs seemed to think this was outrageously clever, and they laughed loudly.

  “But wait!” said Nessus. “They have no weapons. What’s the matter, little warriors? Forget your swords and spears?”

  “We’ll have them next time!” Acastus burst out.

  Jason wanted to knock him flat for being so stupid. The last thing they wanted to do was antagonize the centaurs. He stepped forward. “Chiron sent us to fetch herbs for a healing draught,” he said quickly. “We’re not hunting.” He held up empty hands. “As you noted—we have no weapons.”

  “A huntsman once tried to kill me!” Nessus roared in sudden anger. “Tore me up with his spear. But I survived.”

  The other centaurs applauded and several laughed again, a long neighing sound.

  “Yes, I remember,” Jason began in a soft voice.
“I helped Chiron heal—”

  Nessus did not hear, or deliberately wished not to hear, interrupting Jason. “I tracked him down later. He claimed when he threw his spear he thought he was aiming at a deer. A deer!”

  The centaurs laughed and called to one another: “A deer! He thought Nessus was a deer!”

  “Well, he won’t be hunting deer again,” Nessus shouted above them, “because I cracked his skull open—like this!” He lashed out with his club, and Jason had to duck to keep his own head from being smashed.

  The others centaurs apparently thought this looked like fun, for they lunged forward, swinging at the boys with their clubs. The boys had to duck and dodge for all they were worth, and still some of them took blows to the back or shoulder.

  Finally the centaurs were laughing so hard they had to stop their game so they could catch their breath.

  Admetus, who had taken at least one blow—for his shoulder was already purpling—whispered to Jason, “We could make a dash for it. Maybe some of us could get away.”

  “You tried that already,” Jason reminded him. “There’s nothing the centaurs like better than chasing running prey.”

  “So what do you suggest?” Acastus snapped. “That we just stand here and take more blows?”

  “Yes,” Jason answered firmly, “if we have to. Stand here until they get bored. They’re not really very bright and they’ll leave soon, as long as we don’t provoke them.”

  “They don’t look bored to me,” Lynceus muttered, nodding his head at the centaurs, who were still laughing and slapping their hands together.

  Just then the centaurs all looked up.

  “Look at them, Nessus! Not much sport here,” called out the spotty centaur.

  Another pointed at Idas. “That one at least seems big enough for a fighter,” he said. “But I doubt he has the spirit.” He trotted over to Idas, presented his rear to the boy, and whipped his tail across Idas’ face.

  Idas clenched his fists and started forward.

  “Don’t move,” Jason warned.

  Idas clenched his jaw and stood his ground, though there were welts across his cheek where the tail had struck him.