Jason and the Gorgon's Blood

by Robert J. Harris

  “It looks like he died in agony,” Admetus said, closing the man’s eyes.

  “But there’s no sign of any wound, no blood,” Lynceus observed.

  Jason shuddered but said nothing. He was afraid he knew what had killed the priest.

  “There are more of them over there.” Idas pointed.

  A few yards away there were three more dead men, all disfigured like the first.

  “What could possibly have turned them that awful color?” Admetus asked.

  “It’s the poison,” Acastus said flatly.

  “What poison?” asked Lynceus.

  “The poison we’ve come to retrieve for Chiron. Jason can tell you about it.”

  There was a long silence as all the boys turned to stare at Jason.

  Finally Lynceus exclaimed, “That’s what’s in those jars the centaurs stole.”

  Jason took a deep breath, thinking: Forgive me, Chiron, but they have to know. Then he said, “One of the jars contains a deadly poison, true.”

  “The poison’s the blood of Medusa,” said Acastus. “Gorgon’s blood.”

  The boys were struck silent.

  Jason nodded. “In the other jar is a healing potion.”

  “It doesn’t look like Nessus and his friends have much interest in healing,” Idas observed grimly.

  Jason quickly explained about the blood and how Asclepius had entrusted it to Chiron.

  “After killing the soldiers, the centaurs must have tested the poison on the priests,” said Acastus, “just to see what would happen.”

  They nodded at his words. It had to be just as he said.

  Lynceus looked to the northeast, where Mount Ossa reared up above the valley. “So not only are there Zeus-knows-how-many centaurs here,” he said at last, “but they’ve got their hands on something that could wipe out a whole army just like that.” He snapped his fingers.

  “It’s not too late to go back for help, is it?” Admetus wondered aloud.

  Clearly his question struck a chord, for the boys all started talking at once.

  “How far to Iolcus from here?”

  “Could we find the missing horses and ride them?”

  “Fool—we could hardly ride those pigs!”

  Acastus broke through the babble. “I said all along we should have gone to my father. Then we’d have an army behind us.”

  Jason didn’t dare tell them what Chiron thought, that King Pelias was likely to do as much harm with the Gorgon’s blood as the centaurs. Instead he said, “It’s too late for arguments or regrets. We’re here now and it’s all up to us.”

  “Up to us?” squeaked Lynceus.

  “Look what they did to these men,” Idas added.

  “And we’re just boys.” Lynceus’ voice remained high with fear.

  “What are we supposed to do?” asked Admetus. “Ask them politely if we can have the jars back?”

  Acastus suddenly burst out. “We’ll do whatever we have to do. If we get our hands on that poison, we’ll give those murderers a taste of their own medicine.”

  “We have to get those jars back to Chiron,” said Jason.

  Acastus glowered at him. “When the time comes,” he answered coldly, “I’ll decide what to do with the jars. These aren’t your people who died here, they’re mine.”

  Jason bristled. He wanted to answer that these were his people, too, but he bit back the words. This was not the time to proclaim his heritage, though he wanted to. Now he had to act like a prince of Iolcus without being one. If only he knew how.

  He was deep into this agonizing thought when he saw a slight movement out of the corner of his eye. “Hssst,” he whispered to the boys. “There’s someone hiding in the bushes over there, by that rock to our right.”

  Without moving, Acastus let his eyes swivel to the right. “I see it.”

  Lynceus began to shuffle slowly toward the rock without looking directly at it. Then he made a sudden leap, plunging his hand into the bush. With a triumphant shout, he pulled out his prize by the shoulder.

  It was a girl, about twelve years old. Her dark hair was caught up in ribbons behind her ears, and her large brown eyes were wide with fright. She immediately started screaming.

  Lynceus stepped back and clamped his hands to his ears. “She’s as loud as a harpy!”

  “Alcestis!” Acastus exclaimed.

  He ran to the girl and grabbed her. At first she tried to push him away, then all at once stopped screaming and threw herself into his arms. “Oh, Acastus, did the gods send you? How I prayed someone would come! How I prayed …”

  Acastus had to help her to a rock where she could sit down. She bowed her head and, with a mighty effort, stopped sniveling.

  “Acastus, who is this?” Jason asked.

  “This is Alcestis,” Acastus answered. He looked as much embarrassed as surprised. “My sister.”

  “Your sister?” Jason repeated. “What is she doing here?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know,” said Acastus. “She should be back at the palace where she belongs. Not marching around dangerous mountains with soldiers and priests.”

  At the mention of the soldiers and the priests, everyone grew silent for a moment, thinking about the dead men.

  But Alcestis looked up sharply. Her tear-smudged cheeks blazed bright red. “I belong wherever I want to be,” she told her brother. “I suppose you think I should just sit around waiting for Father to marry me off to some cranky old king!”

  Jason worked hard at not laughing out loud. Alcestis had certainly gotten over her fears fast enough!

  The girl took no notice but continued, “And what about you? Aren’t you supposed to be on top of a mountain learning to behave like a prince?”

  Admetus stepped forward and offered Alcestis his water skin. “Here,” he said. “You look thirsty.”

  She accepted with a grateful nod. Carefully she removed the stopper and took three measured sips.

  “Thank you,” she said, handing the water skin back. “At least somebody here has some manners.”

  “Never mind manners,” Acastus interrupted. “Tell us what you’re doing here, and be quick about it!”

  The girl stared hard at her brother, a small, X-shaped crease appearing between her brows. She sat up straight and adjusted the folds of her rumpled robe. “I came here with the priests, gathering the sacred myrtle from the grove up on the mountain.” She spoke in a matter-of-fact voice without looking at any of them, as if she were reciting a tally of provisions.

  “Yes, of course,” Acastus murmured. “It’s almost time for the festival of Dionysus.”

  “Father—of course—sent those soldiers to guard us,” Alcestis continued.

  “Of course,” Acastus said.

  She ignored his interruption. “There was no trouble at all until … until the centaurs appeared behind us. I thought they would just pass us by. That’s what they’ve always done before.”

  “You’ve done this before?” Acastus looked horrified, and Alcestis looked pleased at that.

  “I think Captain Lannius suspected something was different, because he ordered the priests to dismount and take me away to safety.” Alcestis was well into the story now. “We’d no sooner taken cover than the centaurs attacked the chariots. They panicked the horses, knocked the soldiers to the ground, stamped on them, clubbed them …”

  Here her voice began to waver for the first time, and she shut her eyes tight against a bout of tears. “Even Captain Lannius.” A single tear ran down her cheek. “They laughed as they killed the men. It happened so fast, brother.” Suddenly she shuddered, all her bravado gone.

  Admetus put his arm around her, but Alcestis didn’t seem to notice. “They smashed the chariots, sent the horses running off. The priests found a hiding place for me and made me stay there when the centaurs came looking for us. In order to keep me safe, they surrendered themselves. They said there were no others. Said they were priests and meant no harm.”

  “And the c
entaurs just believed them?” Lynceus asked.

  “They would have been too impatient to search any further,” said Jason. “Fighting muddles their wits, just like wine.”

  “What happened to the priests?” Acastus asked. His questioning, if anything, had become sharper.

  Alcestis began to tremble again. This time she wrapped her arms around herself as if to keep warm. “It was so strange, brother. The centaurs had a red jar. They dipped a twig in it and touched the twig to the brow of each of the priests in turn. Then … then …” Her voice trailed off and her eyes grew moist. She covered her face with her hands.

  “It’s all right,” said Jason, glancing back to where the four corpses lay contorted on the ground. “We can guess what happened after that.”

  “Why are you still here?” Acastus asked. “How could you stand to stay in this ghastly place? Didn’t you fear the shades of the murdered men? Or that the centaurs might return?”

  Alcestis rubbed away her fresh tears and took a deep breath to steady herself. “I started to look for a way home. I’m not stupid, brother. But I hadn’t gone far when I heard the sound of hoofbeats. I ran back to my hiding place and saw another band of centaurs gallop past. There were at least twenty of them. After that even more of them came by, and then more, and I knew I didn’t dare move from here.”

  “How long since the last of them passed?” Jason asked.

  “A long while. Hours, I think. I was trying to work up the courage to travel by night if need be. Then I heard you coming. And I hid again.”

  “But it was me, Alcestis,” said Acastus. “Why didn’t you show yourself at once?”

  “Well, how was I to know it was you?” She sounded outraged. “I couldn’t see your face. I was in hiding. And just look at you! You’re filthy and your tunics are torn and you’re all dressed like brigands and thieves and … and … murderers. You were arguing with one another and shouting.”

  Jason glanced down at his ripped and soiled clothes, at the filth on his legs and arms. The other boys looked as bad. She was right. They might have been brigands.

  Alcestis touched her brother’s hand, too weary to be cross with him anymore. “Can we go home now?” she asked.

  “As soon as we finish what we came for,” Jason told her, and looked at the others.

  They nodded, one after another. They had no other choice.

  CHAPTER 17

  MOUNT OSSA

  IT WAS SHARP-EYED Lynceus who led the way. The valley was covered in a shroud of gray, while above them the peak of Mount Ossa stood black against the dull sky. They’d managed to snatch only a few hours of sleep under cover of darkness, knowing that the centaurs would be sleeping as well. But Jason had gotten them moving again well before first light.

  Slowly the first red of dawn smeared the horizon. Cold, hungry, tired, they marched on.

  “If the centaurs are anywhere, it’s here on Mount Ossa,” Jason told them. “That’s what Chiron said. It’s the centaurs’ ancient meeting place in times of war. And my guess is that with those jars in their possession, war is what is on their minds.”

  “I agree,” Acastus said. “Finding them quickly has to be our first priority.”

  “I don’t understand why,” Alcestis said. “You’re far too few to tackle those brutes. Besides, you’re just boys. Not men. Not heroes. We should go back to Iolcus and warn Father.”

  “Not men? We were men enough to get across the mountain and fight off harpies.” The look Acastus gave her could have uncurled a pig’s tail. “Besides, without chariots, the journey to Iolcus would take days. And we don’t have the time.”

  “Sometimes,” Admetus added, “a boy can do what a man cannot.”

  “Name one thing!” Alcestis put her hands on her hips.

  “Quiet!” Jason warned them. “We’re on the slopes of Mount Ossa now. The centaurs may have posted lookouts.”

  Alcestis glanced about. She whispered, “It shouldn’t be hard to spot a centaur. They’re hardly inconspicuous.”

  Just then Lynceus made a hissing sound and waved them all into cover. They dropped to their knees and went silent. From the shelter of an acacia bush, they could look far up the slope where a cave mouth gaped open. In front of it stood two centaurs, huge, knobby clubs resting on their shoulders. One of them was yawning.

  “There are only two centaurs,” Acastus said. “And five of us. Good odds.”

  “Six,” hissed Alcestis.

  “No, princess. Leave the fighting to us,” Admetus said.

  She glared at him, but he stood his ground and did not look away.

  “Good odds,” Jason told them, “if we can beat them without alerting any of the others. From what Princess Alcestis told us, there must be at least a hundred centaurs gathered here. So far the only advantage we have is that they don’t know we’re here.”

  “So what do you suggest?” Idas asked. “That we wait here and ambush them when they come out?”

  Jason racked his brains. And then he said, “Suppose … suppose there’s another way in.”

  Acastus gave a short, sharp laugh. “If wishful thinking is all you have to offer, why not just suppose we have the jars in our hands already.”

  “A back door of some kind is not that impossible,” Jason said, though the more he talked of it, the less sure he was.

  “This mountain is probably riddled with cracks and holes,” Lynceus said. “One of them could possibly lead into the centaur’s cave. But it would take a miracle for us to find it before nightfall.”

  Alcestis held up her hand. “Then we’ll just have to pray for a miracle. Surely the gods, who have taken so much from us already, will grant us one.” She said it matter-of-factly, ignoring her brother, who was scornfully shaking his head. Then she clasped her hands and began. “O great Hera, do not desert your children when we need thee most.”

  All at once Jason was aware of the peacock feather under his tunic. It was growing so hot, he could feel it stinging his flesh. Pulling it out, he held it before him, pinched between his thumb and forefinger. The purple and turquoise colors were aglow.

  “Here,” he cried, “is our miracle. The answer to Alcestis’ prayer.”

  “A feather?” Acastus sneered. “What can we do with that?”

  Alcestis clapped her hands. “Remember, brother, the peacock is sacred to Hera.” She turned to Jason. “Where did you find it?”

  “Up on the mountains when we were caught in the storm,” Jason replied. “I think the goddess must have left it for me.”

  Acastus smacked Jason’s hand, and the peacock feather went flying. A sudden wind set it dancing up the mountainside, away from the cave mouth and the centaur guards. Unaccountably, it hovered in the air, as if waiting for them to follow.

  The boys looked stunned. Only Alcestis smiled. Hands on hips, she chided them. “So here we have a group of tired, hungry boys with hardly a decent weapon among them. They know an attack right into the centaurs’ cave will never succeed. Perhaps a back way in isn’t such a silly idea after all. And maybe—if this feather really is from Hera—we should regard it. After all, what chance do we have of victory if we don’t accept the help of the gods?” It was a long speech, and she’d had to take a big gulp of air in the middle of it.

  Admetus leaned toward her. “That makes more sense than anything I’ve heard since we left Chiron’s cave. I say we follow the feather.”

  “And I!” Lynceus whispered.

  “And I!” his brother said.

  “And I!” Alcestis added.

  Only Jason and Acastus were silent, glaring at each other.

  Suddenly Jason broke off eye contact and moved forward, keeping low behind more acacia bushes, until he’d caught up with the feather.

  The others trailed behind him, all but Acastus. When they’d almost lost sight of him, he suddenly made a dash to catch up.

  “What a band of idiots!” he hissed.

  “Why did you follow, then?” his sister asked.

&
nbsp; “Because I can’t fight a hundred centaurs on my own.”

  Up the mountain they clambered, over rocks and through jagged bushes, the feather bobbing ahead of them.

  And then Jason saw something. At first he thought it was merely a shadow cast on the mountainside or a dark wet spot on the granite face. But when they got a bit closer, he realized it was a narrow cleft in the rock.

  “Lynceus, look!” he cried.

  Lynceus had already spotted it. “It might just be a niche, going nowhere.” But he began to run ahead of Jason.

  “Praise the gods!” Alcestis exclaimed triumphantly. “Praise all the gods of Olympus—and especially Hera!”

  Jason did not tell her that it was Hera who had wanted her brother and father killed.

  They scrambled up to the dark cleft, and Lynceus found a stick, which he pushed into the cleft as far as it would go. It seemed to penetrate straight into the mountain.

  Jason looked around for the feather, but it had vanished, seemingly into thin air.

  “What do you think, Jason?” Admetus whispered. “Is the opening large enough for us?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Maybe not for Idas.” Lynceus elbowed his big brother.

  “More importantly—will it get us to the centaurs?” Now Acastus started to take charge.

  “There’s only one way to find out,” Jason answered.

  “I wish we had a torch.” Lynceus looked around, but they were above the tree line and none of them wanted to go back to look for branches. “Even I can’t see in the dark.”

  “We’ll just have to make our way as best we can,” Acastus muttered.

  “So, do you believe now, brother?” Alcestis crowed.

  “I’ll believe when I see farther into that cleft.”

  Jason turned sideways and slipped between the rocks, into a fairly wide tunnel. “It’s all right,” he called back. “We can all fit but—”

  Before he finished speaking, Acastus had pressed in behind him, going from morning light to dark in an instant.