Jason and the Gorgon's Blood

by Robert J. Harris

  Suddenly Kentauros let out a contemptuous roar that silenced his followers. “Has centaur blood grown thinner since my day? Is one human child enough to throw you into a panic?”

  He gazed around at his fellow centaurs, and one by one by one they hung their heads in shame. Even Nessus looked away, grinding his teeth in humiliation.

  “Give her to me,” Kentauros ordered, his voice a clap of thunder.

  He gripped Alcestis around the waist with both hands and lifted her up so that she was staring him in the face, the tips of their noses only inches apart. The girl shook uncontrollably.

  “I’m curious about this potion of yours,” Kentauros said to Nessus. “Let me see what it does.”

  Obediently Nessus removed the stopper from the jar.

  “You see this jar, girl?” Kentauros asked.

  Alcestis’ eyes flickered to where Nessus was standing.

  “Would you like a drink of what’s inside it?”

  Alcestis pursed her lips tightly and shook her head.

  “Why not?” Kentauros’ lips curled back in a malevolent grin. “You must be thirsty after hiding for so long.”

  Still there was no reply.

  “Go on,” Kentauros coaxed, “just a sip.”

  Alcestis answered in a near whisper, but her words could be heard all over the cavern. “Drink it yourself.”

  Kentauros’ grin twisted into a snarl. “The race of man!” he sneered. “What have we to fear from them? Just see how easily they break!”

  So saying, he lifted Alcestis up above his head and hurled her away from him. She flew across the cavern and hit the rock wall with a sickening thud. She flopped limply to the cave floor and lay there, unmoving.

  Trembling, Acastus reached for his sword. Before he could make another move, Jason clamped a hand over his mouth and wrestled him to the ground.

  “No, not now!” he rasped urgently into the prince’s ear. “You’ll get us all killed, and who’ll stop Kentauros then?”

  “Ken-tau-ros! Ken-tau-ros!” Slowly the chant was starting up again. “KEN-TAU-ROS! KEN-TAU-ROS!”

  Kentauros spread his arms wide, accepting the adulation of his followers.

  Nessus carefully replaced the stopper in the jar and waited for the uproar to die down. “You will all see the effects of the Gorgon’s blood soon enough,” he told Kentauros, “when we use it to destroy the men of Iolcus at a stroke. If any are left, we will slaughter them ourselves. And when Iolcus has fallen, all of Thessaly will tremble before us!”

  A ghastly cheer shook the walls of the cavern.

  Acastus’ breast was heaving with anger, and his face had turned bright red. Jason knew it wasn’t safe to release him yet. “Think of your city,” he urged. “We can’t afford to let ourselves be captured now.”

  Finally Acastus seemed to pull himself together, and Jason slowly loosened his hold.

  “They will pay for this,” Acastus vowed in a hoarse whisper.

  “They will pay mightily,” Jason agreed.

  “I have spent long enough in this tomb,” Kentauros bellowed. “I want to see the sky, the mountains, the plains of Thessaly.”

  “Lead us, then,” Nessus encouraged him, “and we will follow.”

  The ranks parted before him, and Kentauros trotted into the tunnel and out of sight. The other centaurs charged after him like a vast river pouring through a canyon. The clatter of their hooves echoed deafeningly, then faded away.

  The boys were alone in the vast, empty silence of the cavern. The centaurs had taken the red jar with them.

  Acastus jumped up at once and ran to Alcestis. Dropping to one knee, he took her by the wrist.

  Jason stood by him, his hand hovering uncertainly over the prince’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure if a gesture of comfort would be welcome.

  The other three boys came hurrying down from the ledge.

  “Acastus, what can we do?” Idas asked.

  Acastus’ head was bowed low. “Nothing,” he said with a groan. “Alcestis is dead.”

  There was a long, miserable silence, then Admetus spoke up.

  “You’re wrong, Acastus. There is something we can do.”

  The others all turned to face him. Cradled in his arm was the discarded jar that had held the blood of life.

  “It’s not completely empty,” he said.

  CHAPTER 20

  A MATTER OF LIFE

  THEY GATHERED AROUND ADMETUS, and Lynceus peered into the jar. He wrinkled his nose. “There can’t be more than a couple of drops in there.”

  “What use can it be?” Idas asked. “They needed the whole jar to raise up Kentauros.”

  “Yes, but he’d been dead for centuries,” Admetus reminded them. “Alcestis is newly dead. This might be enough.”

  Lynceus squinted at Jason. “What do you think, Jason?”

  Jason’s throat tightened. He didn’t like the thought of using the Gorgon’s blood, not after all that Chiron had told him. The gods could punish them all for such a thing. “It … might work.” He hesitated. “But do we have the right?”

  “The right?” Admetus cried. “The right to heal? The right to save a life?”

  “She’s not sick,” said Idas. “She’s dead.”

  Jason nodded. “We’re not talking about saving a life, Admetus. There’s no life there to save. We’re talking about bringing Alcestis back from the grave.”

  “She’s not in her grave,” Admetus cried. “She’s not even cold yet.”

  “We aren’t gods,” Jason said. “They don’t like humans to take on their roles.”

  “We’re not even the sons of gods like the healer Asclepius was,” said Lynceus

  “When you’re dead, you’re dead, and that’s that,” Idas declared sullenly.

  For a long while no one spoke. It was as if they were waiting for another voice—perhaps Chiron’s—to intervene and tell them what to do.

  At last Jason said, “What do you say, Acastus? She’s your sister, after all.”

  Acastus had been unusually silent. He looked pale and drawn as he spoke. “What should I do? If my father knew that Alcestis was killed, and I could have brought her back, and didn’t …” He took a deep breath, a gulp that was almost a sob. “But Alcestis was devoted to the gods. Perhaps she wouldn’t want to defy their will.” He stared down at his dead sister as if asking her advice.

  “Suppose, Acastus, suppose the gods want her to live,” Admetus pleaded, holding the jar before him. “Suppose that’s why they’ve left us these last few drops of healing blood.”

  “Maybe we’re supposed to save the blood for another time,” Lynceus said.

  Acastus stood up slowly, carefully, his sister in his arms. “It’s true she was no warrior.” He was looking directly at Jason as he spoke, but he was addressing all of them. “But if not for her, Jason, it would be you and me lying there dead. It would be all of us. We owe our lives to her.”

  “I know that,” said Jason. “But Chiron sent us to retrieve the Gorgon’s blood, not use it.”

  “How does that matter now?” asked Admetus. “Both jars have already been used. There’s not enough left here to be worth taking back.”

  “Maybe not,” Jason said, “but there’s something else we have to remember. Something Chiron told me. Asclepius raised the dead with the Gorgon’s blood, and Zeus destroyed him for it.”

  Idas rubbed his chin ruefully. “We’ll have a hard enough time stopping the centaurs without bringing the anger of Zeus down on our heads.”

  “I didn’t see Nessus catch a thunderbolt when he raised Kentauros,” said Lynceus.

  “The gods can keep a grudge for a long, long time,” said Jason, thinking of Hera and her hatred for Pelias. “We don’t know what might happen or when.”

  “We never know that anyway,” said Lynceus with a shrug.

  “Only one of us need take the chance,” said Acastus, “and it should be me. After all, I’m her brother.”

  The boys all nodded at that.


  Jason looked at them steadily. “Are we agreed, then, that we’re going to do it?”

  “As long as we have that blood with us, we’re always going to be tempted to use it,” said Lynceus. “We may as well get it over with.”

  “Idas?”

  Idas nodded slowly. “I suppose in the end death is the one enemy we all face. Let’s see if we can beat him, just this once.”

  “Admetus?”

  Admetus answered by holding out the jar.

  “All right, then,” said Jason, relieved that they’d come to a decision. He didn’t think Chiron would disapprove.

  Acastus reached a hand out for the jar, but Admetus clutched it to his chest. “Not this time, Acastus. This time you’ll give way to me. I was beside her when she fell. If I had been quicker, I could have caught her. But I didn’t. I failed, just as I always fail back home in Pherae. Why else do you think my father sent me to Chiron to be trained?”

  “It should be my responsibility,” said Acastus. “Are you forgetting the risk?”

  “Yes,” Jason agreed. “The gods—”

  “If saving a brave and precious life offends the gods,” Admetus said firmly, “then they can take out their anger on me.”

  Now, for the first time, Jason could see that Admetus was truly a prince and a hero. It had little to do with where or to whom he had been born. It had to do with taking responsibility.

  Even Acastus seemed to have a new respect for his cousin. He set his sister’s body back down on the ground and stepped aside for Admetus, who crouched by her and gently tipped over the jar.

  A bead of blue liquid took shape on the rim and fell onto the girl’s brow. A second, smaller drop formed and fell onto the first, merging into a single stain. A third drop fell onto her lips, tinting them.

  The jar was dry now, so Admetus set it aside and stood up and, with the other boys, waited for something to happen. It was so quiet in the cave, Jason could have sworn they had all stopped breathing.

  The effect was not so dramatic as it had been with Kentauros, yet the boys were amazed to see the blue stain on Alcestis’ brow and lips gradually disappear, like rainwater soaking into parched ground.

  Then the moments dragged by slowly with no sign of any further change.

  “It didn’t work,” Lynceus cried. “There wasn’t enough of it.”

  “No,” Admetus said, pointing. “Look!”

  A tremor had begun to run through Alcestis’ body. Her chest moved up and down as she sucked new breath into her lungs. The fingers of her right hand twitched as though grasping air.

  “By Ares’ chariot!” Idas exclaimed.

  Alcestis was blinking now, and she moved a languid hand before her eyes to keep out the light of the torches.

  “Sister …” Acastus bent over and helped her sit, then stand. For a moment she looked at each of them in turn slowly, as if she could not quite remember who they were. Or where she was.

  When she spoke, her voice was small and distant. “I thought I was somewhere else ….” She shook her head. “No, I can’t remember. The last thing I saw was the centaur. Kentauros. Big, ugly face. Nose the size of a pitcher. Was it a dream?”

  Her eyes grew wide with fright, and Acastus put a reassuring arm around her trembling shoulders.

  “Not a dream, then. He threw me and … what happened then?”

  “You were stunned,” Jason answered, before anyone could utter the truth. “You were stunned. Out cold. You’re fine now.”

  That last, at least, was true, he reflected. She had not so much as a single visible bruise on her body, yet she’d been smashed against the stone by Kentauros’ terrible strength.

  All the boys exchanged glances, silently agreeing that they would never reveal to Alcestis what had really happened.

  “Yes, I feel fine,” Alcestis said, running her hands down her robe to straighten it. She looked around the cavern, baffled. “Where did they all go?”

  “They left you for … dead,” said Acastus. “They’ve gone on to Iolcus.”

  “Well, why are we just standing here?” Alcestis demanded, shaking off his arm. “Shouldn’t we go after them?”

  “Yes, we should,” said Jason. “But how on earth are we going to catch them?”

  Now that they were no longer concerned with Alcestis’ fate, the same awful question occurred to all of them.

  “If we had chariots,” Acastus said, “we’d have a slim chance at least. But it’s miles and miles to the nearest town.”

  Alcestis placed her hands on her hips and raised a sardonic eyebrow at her brother. “Acastus, have you lost your wits? Of course there’s a way. The river road.”

  CHAPTER 21

  THE CHALLENGE

  THEY HAD TO TREK westward for two hours to reach the river. When they came over the grassy rise and saw it spread out in the sun below them, Alcestis pointed it out proudly, as if it were a tapestry she’d sewn with her own hands. “You see, that will be much faster than going on foot.”

  “Probably faster than a chariot, too,” said Jason. “A river doesn’t tire the way a horse does.”

  “Where does this river go?” asked Lynceus. “All the way to Lake Boebis,” replied Alcestis.

  “And the southernmost shore of the lake is only a few miles from Iolcus,” said Acastus.

  “That’s all very well,” said Idas, his hand shading his eyes as he scanned the river, “but are we going to swim all the way?”

  “There should be a ferry around here somewhere,” Alcestis said.

  “Yes, there it is,” said Lynceus, pointing upstream where the river bowed toward the east. A flat-bottomed raft had been dragged up on shore and anchored to a birch tree.

  They raced down the incline. Near the raft was a small stone-built cottage with a ferryman sitting on a tree stump and carving something out of a stick of wood. From time to time he paused to pluck a blueberry from a pouch at his side and pop it into his mouth.

  “Hoi!” Jason called out, and the ferryman looked up to register the approach of the newcomers, then went back to his work. He was a muscular, barrel-chested fellow with short-cropped sandy hair and a grizzled beard.

  “We’d like to hire your ferry,” Acastus called as they drew closer.

  The ferryman looked up and spat out a blueberry stem. “Of course you would. Why else would you be here? Just let me finish carving this peg and I’ll take you over.”

  “We don’t want to go across the river,” said Acastus. “We want to go down it, to Lake Boebis.”

  “No, I don’t do that,” said the ferryman, forcing his knife through a knot in the wood. “Back and forth, that’s what I do, one side to the other.”

  “Look, we have to get to the city of Iolcus as fast as we can,” said Admetus. “It’s very important.”

  “Then I’d start walking if I were you,” the ferryman said without looking up. “It’s a long way.”

  Alcestis nudged Acastus. “Tell him!” she whispered. “Tell him why we must get there quickly.”

  “No,” said Jason. “It has to stay a secret.”

  Acastus nodded his agreement, then walked up to the ferryman. “I am Acastus,” he announced, “Prince of Iolcus, son of King Pelias.”

  The ferryman paused to pick another stem out of his teeth. “I am Argos, son of Arestor,” he said, “and I doubt if you’ve heard of me either.”

  The side of Acastus’ mouth twitched irritably. He fingered his amulet. “Look, man, this is solid gold, and those red stones are rubies. I’ll give it to you in exchange for the ferry. It’s worth far more than your boat.”

  “To you it may be, but that boat’s my livelihood. I can’t make a living out of a bit of metal, no matter how pretty and shiny it is.”

  “We’ll bring it back, I swear,” Jason assured him.

  “Bring it back?” Argos raised a skeptical eyebrow. “I doubt that. From the looks of you, not one of you knows how to steer a craft through rough waters. No, I think it best if you just go on y
our way and leave me to my business.”

  Idas had already lost patience. “We’ll fight for it, if need be,” he declared, smacking his fist into the palm of his hand.

  The ferryman considered this a moment. “All right, then,” he said, rising to his feet. “I’ll wrestle each of you in turn, one throw to decide each contest. If any one of you can beat me, I’ll accept the prince’s trinket and let you have what you need. If I am unbeaten, then you must still give me the amulet and go away.”

  Standing up, he was a good head taller than Idas, and a lot wider, too.

  “So either way I lose my amulet,” Acastus muttered.

  Argos shrugged. “If you don’t like the bargain—”

  “No—we accept,” Jason said quickly He turned and added to Acastus, “We don’t have any other choice.”

  Acastus growled. “But it’s my amulet.”

  “Shut up!” Idas, Lynceus, and Admetus said together.

  Jason pulled the boys aside. “Look—one of us alone is no match for him, but—”

  “But there are five of us,” Admetus pointed out. “He’s bound to tire.”

  Idas was already stripping off his belt and his pack. Acastus tugged his arm to keep him back. “You hold off till last, Idas. You’re our best chance, but only if you let the others wear him down first.”

  Idas gritted his teeth ruefully. “I don’t like to stand and watch, but it’s a good tactic,” he conceded.

  “Go ahead, Admetus,” Acastus urged his cousin. “You can have the first chance to prove yourself.”

  Admetus did not look confident, but dropping his weapons, he stepped forward bravely. As he approached the ferryman, he fell into a crouch, moving warily from side to side. Argos still had his arms folded, and his eyes followed his youthful opponent as if he were watching an insect scuttling across the ground in front of him.

  Finally Admetus mustered his courage and charged. He wrapped his arms around Argos’ waist and tried to lift him. He might have been trying to uproot an oak tree for all the success he had. The ferryman let him grunt and heave for a while. Then he hooked an arm around the boy, yanked him effortlessly off his feet, and tossed him aside.