CHAPTER 6
THE TUG OF A ROPE
BEFORE SETTING OUT ON their mission, the boys lined up to make their farewells to Chiron. “You must follow Jason’s lead,” said Chiron, his voice thin and reedy. He had propped himself up unsteadily on one elbow, and there were dark shadows under his eyes. “Jason knows the countryside, and I have been instructing him for many years.”
“Instructing him in what?” Acastus drawled. “How to plant onions and tend sheep?” He was leaning against the wall with a smirk on his face that suggested he knew something no one else did.
The other boys shot quick glances at one another, clearly taken aback by his arrogance at a time like this. A shadow of pain flitted across Chiron’s face, and Jason decided to spare the old centaur further effort by answering for him. “How to track and forage. How to stay out of sight. And how to fight. Is that enough, Acastus?”
Acastus looked away. “I was just asking,” he answered in a bored voice.
Raising his hand, Admetus said, “Do we even know in which direction to start?”
Melampus cleared his throat and stepped forward. “I can answer that. According to the birds, the centaurs headed toward the northwest. If you go that way you should pick up their trail.”
“I’ll keep a lookout for their tracks,” said Lynceus.
Chiron nodded. “Good, you are already thinking like a team. With Jason at your head, you will all go far.” He paused for a moment and drew in a deep breath. “If, as you say, Melampus, the centaurs are heading northwest, they are most likely going to Mount Ossa. That is the traditional gathering place of our people in time of war.”
“War?” Idas gulped. “Is there going to be a war?”
Suddenly alert, Acastus leaned forward. “It’s because of those jars, isn’t it?”
Chiron quickly changed the subject. “If they’re going toward Mount Ossa, they’ll have to turn west, toward the lower country.”
Admetus understood first. “They can gallop faster across open ground.”
Chiron nodded at him.
“And a lot faster than we can go,” Idas noted grimly.
“That’s why we aren’t going to follow them,” said Jason.
All eyes turned toward him. He had been giving this business a lot of thought, and now it was time to tell them what he had in mind.
“We’ll go directly north,” he said.
“You mean straight across the mountains?” said Acastus. His mouth twisted. “It would be easier to fly like one of Melampus’ birds.”
“Yes. It will be hard,” Jason admitted, “but it can be done. I’ve spoken to hunters who have made the ascent. We can pick up the centaurs’ trail on the other side. Or are you not up to the challenge?”
In answer, Acastus turned his back to Jason and stared out at a high tree.
“Around the mountains or over them,” said Idas, “it makes no difference to me. I’ve business to settle.”
“And I.” Admetus put his fist to his chest.
“And I,” Lynceus added.
Only Acastus was silent.
Jason looked to Chiron, who nodded proudly. “It is your best chance,” the centaur said. “But only if you keep your purpose before you and trust in one another. For that is what the virtuous man does: puts the purpose ahead of his personal discomforts and concerns. Always stay together. When one falls, another must lift him up. Only in this way can you succeed.”
The boys exchanged uneasy glances, as if having to cooperate were more of an obstacle than the mountains.
“We will succeed, Chiron,” Jason promised, wishing he were even half as confident as he was trying to sound.
Suddenly Chiron groaned wearily. Melampus rushed to his side to wipe his brow with a damp linen cloth. Gradually he coaxed the centaur into lying down again.
“You should go now,” he said to his friends, “so that you waste no more time. And—so Chiron can rest.”
Weapons in hand, and supplies in packs tied onto their backs, the boys set off down the slope toward the great spur of rock that connected Mount Pelion to the cluster of mountains to the north. Beyond them lay the valley of Hecla and the mountain of Ossa.
Each of them cast a final backward glance at the humble caves that had been their home these past months. Though they had set out before on hunting and foraging expeditions, this time was different. This time they did not know if they would ever return.
A weird silence hung over the little band as Jason led them around the northern slopes. There was none of the usual bantering, the joke telling, the occasional bursts of song. It was as if there were something everyone wanted to talk about but no one dared mention.
On one particularly tricky bit of ridge, Jason led the way and the others fanned out single file behind him. When he got to the end of that ridge, he went on ahead, stopping at last, breathing hard. He pointed to a longer, rockier ridge that was the next step on their route. “That’s going to be even more treacherous. Are you ready for it?”
There was no response, and he looked around. The others had stopped some distance behind him. He walked back and noticed that they could not meet his eyes.
“What’s the matter?” Jason asked. “Have you all gone lame?”
Idas drew himself up to his full height—which was at least a head taller than Jason’s. “Before we go farther we need to settle who is to be the leader of this band.”
Jason’s fingers clenched tightly around his javelin. “You all heard what Chiron said. He wants you to follow me.”
Glancing back along the ridge they had just traversed, Idas said, “Chiron is a long way off now. He may not even be alive when we get back. The choice should be ours, not his.”
“Besides,” Admetus added, “why should you be in charge? Acastus and I are princes.” He paused and gazed sidelong at Acastus, waiting for him to say something. But the prince of Iolcus was oddly silent, as if content to let Admetus make the argument.
“We’re not in a palace now,” said Jason, “and we’ve no army to lead. It doesn’t matter who your father is out here.”
“Or who he isn’t?” Acastus suddenly put in.
Idas was thinking. His furrowed brow announced as much. At last he said, “Strength matters more than birth here on these mountains. And later, when we fight the centaurs, it will matter even more. Now no one would disagree that I am the strongest. So—who better to take charge than I?”
“Idas is right in his own way,” said Lynceus, who had been silent till that moment. “But of course some might think the person leading should have remarkably keen eyesight, so that he could spot any danger lying ahead.”
Idas cuffed him across the ear.
“Ow!” Lynceus cried.
“You didn’t see that danger coming, did you, brother?” Idas guffawed.
“No, but I can see what’s crawling up your leg.”
As soon as Idas looked down, Lynceus started to laugh. “At least I don’t look where there’s nothing to see!”
Idas took another swipe at him, but Lynceus ducked under the blow and backed away.
“There’s no point in you two arguing,” Admetus said. “Leadership is a matter of royal blood. Everyone knows that. So the choice of leader is between Acastus and me.”
“Maybe we should let you lead the way,” drawled Acastus. “Then, when you fall headlong down the first crevasse we come to, I can take over.”
Admetus’ face flushed. “You think so much of yourself, Acastus, but everybody knows it’s a stolen throne you stand to inherit!”
Acastus lofted his spear into a throwing position. “If you speak to me like that again,” he warned through gritted teeth, “I’ll send you back to that dung heap you call a kingdom with a spear in your belly.”
“Stop it!” At the sound of Jason’s voice, they all went still and Acastus lowered his weapon. “You are acting like boys playing at tug the rope. All of you want to give orders and none of you wants to take them.”
“And are you any different?” Acastus drawled.
“Chiron obviously thought so,” Jason said quietly, but the others laughed.
Idas thumped his spear butt on the ground. “We need to settle this fairly, by a contest of skill and strength.”
“And who’s going to decide the rules for that?” Lynceus asked suspiciously.
“We don’t have time for this,” Jason pleaded. “Let’s just move forward and decide all this afterward.”
“I don’t think you have much support, Goat Boy,” said Acastus, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Thinking desperately, Jason tried to recall what he and Chiron had discussed about leadership, about the qualities of kings and warlords. At the time he hadn’t understood why he should have to learn about such things. Now he knew.
“Any man can shout orders and enforce his will by fear,” Chiron had said. “A true leader is one others follow because they choose to.”
“But what if they don’t choose to follow?” Jason remembered asking.
Chiron had grinned. “There’s always a way to persuade them. Everyone has a weak spot, some matter of vanity that can be used to tug him forward, like a rope around the neck of a stubborn mule.”
Slowly Jason looked around at each of the boys in turn. He could think of nothing to say that would persuade all of them as a group, but over the past weeks he had come to know each of them well, better perhaps than they suspected. If not all at once, he told himself, perhaps one at a time.
“Lynceus,” he said, taking a step closer to Idas’ sharp-eyed brother, “once we’re over the mountains, we’ll need you to spy out the centaurs’ trail. You can do that for us, can’t you?”
Lynceus nodded uncertainly, not sure where this was leading.
Jason turned to the two princes. “Once we’ve found the centaurs,” he said, “we’ll need someone trained in strategy to come up with a plan to overcome them. We’ll be depending on you, Acastus and Admetus, to do that, or all will be lost.”
Bristling, Admetus asked, “Do you think we can’t?”
“I’m sure you can,” Jason answered confidently.
Acastus narrowed his eyes and gave the slightest of nods.
Idas flexed his broad shoulders. “What about me?” he demanded, a menacing gleam in his eye.
“If it comes to a fight, Idas,” Jason said, “there’s no one any of us would rather have in the forefront of the battle than you. And I’m certain that’s where you want to be.”
Idas appeared satisfied with this and relaxed his threatening posture.
“But none of that will count for anything unless we reach Mount Ossa in time to learn the centaurs’ plans,” Jason went on. He placed a hand on his chest. “That’s my task, to get us all safely over the mountains. Does anybody think he can do that better than I can?”
“Jason does know the route better than any of us,” Idas conceded, rubbing his square jaw.
“So really you’ll be a sort of guide,” said Admetus.
“I don’t care what you choose to call me, but we have to go on—now!” Jason said.
There was a long pause as the boys all mulled this over. Then Acastus broke the silence.
“You go ahead, Jason,” he said. “I’ll be happy to watch your back.”
Something in the prince’s tone sent shivers along Jason’s spine, but to his relief he saw the others nodding their agreement. Seizing the opportunity, he turned and started off across the slope. He was glad they couldn’t see the sweat pouring down his brow as if he’d just stuck his head in a stream.
CHAPTER 7
THE NARROW PATH
MIDDAY THEY REACHED THE steep, barren ridge that stretched from the northern slopes of Pelion to the main mass of mountains. The ridge was like a long curtain of gray and yellow rock stretching down to the wooded, boulder-strewn valley below.
“There’s a path here,” Jason said, pointing. “A narrow ledge, but passable.”
Lynceus squinted along the line of Jason’s finger. “There’s a path all right,” he agreed. “But it’s hardly wide enough for a goat.”
“If it’s good enough for a goat, it’s good enough for you,” said Idas.
“Then what are we waiting for?” Admetus asked.
The start of the path was a narrow ribbon of stone clinging to the rock face. Below was a drop of at least a hundred feet to treetops that were like a row of spear points waiting to impale anyone who fell.
“Who’s going to go first?” asked Admetus.
“Jason, of course.” Acastus smiled slowly. “He’s our guide, after all.”
Jason ignored the sting in Acastus’ words and nodded. “Keep close together, but leave enough space that you aren’t jostling one another.” He set out boldly, wanting to show confidence, though there was a hollow in the pit of his stomach.
Acastus shouldered Admetus aside and followed immediately behind him. When Jason glanced back, Acastus grinned. “I told you I’d watch your back, Jason.”
Not to be outdone, Admetus went next, his face a scowl.
“I’ll go last,” said Idas, shoving his brother on ahead of him.
Lynceus staggered forward under the force of the push. “Why should I go next?” he asked resentfully.
“Because if you were last, brother, you might just think better of it and turn back.”
“Well, if any goats come along after us,” Lynceus joked, “you’re the one who’ll have to fight them off.”
At first the path was a good three feet wide, wide enough for even Idas to walk comfortably. However, the surface was bumpy and strewn with jagged fragments of flint that pressed hard into the soles of their sandals. Before they were halfway across, the footing started to shrink inches at a time.
Jason halted and raised a warning hand. Turning his head, he called out, “It gets narrower here. You’re all going to have to space out a bit more.”
He heard grunting agreement behind him, and he started forward again, but carefully.
Soon the only way they could continue was to turn with their noses scraping against the rough wall. Encumbered as they were with weapons and supplies, they couldn’t set their backs to the mountain, and they were all mindful of the drop behind them.
Lynceus said loudly, “It’s going to be hard for Idas to go much farther, big as he is.”
“Don’t you worry about me,” Idas rumbled. “You just mind your own footing.”
“It’s all right,” Admetus said, struggling to sound confident. “Jason’s been this way before, so it must be safe.”
Jason reached out with a toe and kicked a troublesome rock off the path ahead. “I never said I’d been this way before.”
There was a stunned silence as the other boys paused in midstep. The sound of the rock tumbling down the drop, hitting against occasional outcroppings, was ominous.
“You told us you knew the route,” Acastus said in a low, accusing voice. “You said there was a way over the mountains.”
Jason took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I’ve spoken to hunters who’ve crossed here.”
“Hunters!” squeaked Lynceus. “Those braggarts will say anything for a cup of wine!”
“They were telling the truth,” Jason insisted. “The path is here, isn’t it?”
“So far.” Admetus groaned.
“So,” Acastus said, voice dripping venom, “all you know of the route over the mountains is what you’ve heard from others?”
Jason knew he could not afford to show weakness when all of them were so uncertain and in such a vulnerable position on the mountain ridge.
“That’s right,” he replied. “Why? Do you want to run away? If you do, you’ll have to persuade the others to go first.”
There was another long silence as they contemplated inching back the way they’d come.
At last, in a quavering voice, Admetus asked, “Is there anything else you haven’t told us?”
“Oh, I’m sure there are a lot of things Jason h
asn’t told us,” Acastus said darkly. “And sooner or later, one of them is going to trip him up. We have to hope they don’t trip us up as well.”
Heart pounding, his chest pressed against the rock, Jason bit down hard on his lower lip. Had he really let them think he knew the way better than he did? He was sure he hadn’t planned to deceive them. On the other hand, if they had known the truth, would they have come even this far? Then he remembered why he’d brought them this way. The goal was more important than any of their complaints.
“Enough talk,” barked Idas. “My legs are getting stiff standing here. Let’s move along. If we fall to our deaths, we can beat Jason into a paste when we catch up with him in the Underworld.”
Lynceus laughed weakly. “Yes, that will be something to look forward to.”
“It would be as hard to go back now as it would be to continue,” Admetus added.
Jason devoutly hoped that was true, and resumed his sideways movement along the ledge. But he was more worried than he let on. If the ridge grew any narrower he doubted they could make it. Certainly not with their heavy packs. Even now, he thought, it would only take a gust of wind to blow them off. Or the slip of a foot.
Beside him, the boys were still quarreling.
“Admetus, you fool, leave me some room!” Acastus hissed.
“The end of your spear is poking my leg.”
And then the very thing that Jason had feared happened. Acastus’ flash of temper caused his concentration to lapse. Some loose stones slid out from under the prince’s foot and went rattling down the dizzy slope, throwing him off balance. For a second he struggled to right himself, clawing at the rough wall with his free hand, trying to find a grip.
Jason reached out and clasped him by the shoulder to steady him. Instead of being grateful for the help, the prince flattened himself against the rock face and slapped Jason’s arm away impatiently.
Jason and the Gorgon's Blood Page 5
