Jason and the Gorgon's Blood

by Robert J. Harris

  Admetus thudded to the ground, rolled over three times, and lay there groaning. Alcestis hurried to his side and helped him up.

  “You’re next, Lynceus,” Acastus said.

  “It’s an honor, of course,” said Lynceus, “but I would like to offer someone else the opportunity to—”

  “Go on!” Idas barked at him.

  Lynceus made a feeble attempt at a grin. Carefully setting aside his pack and his sword, he advanced briskly. He feinted to the right and left in a series of quick movements, then instantly retreated. The ferryman did not react.

  Lynceus began to circle the grizzled ferryman, making jabbing motions with his arms. Gradually he drew closer and closer until he strayed within Argos’ reach. The ferryman immediately seized him by the arm and flung him over his shoulder like an empty grain sack. Lynceus tumbled head over heels, then slowly got to his feet, clutching his shoulder and grimacing.

  The sight of his brother’s pain was all the prompting Idas needed. “To Hades with your plan, Acastus!” he cried out, and charged the ferryman with unexpected speed, ramming his shoulder into the man’s midriff. Argos staggered back, winded. Idas grabbed his leg with both hands and tried to flip him over, but the ferryman planted himself like a rock and clamped his arms around Idas’ waist. Flipping the boy completely upside down, he flung Idas onto his back.

  As soon as he landed, Idas leaped up and kicked the ground in frustration. He made to attack again, but Argos raised a cautionary hand.

  “The rules were one throw wins,” he said. “Don’t turn your courage to dishonor, young warrior.”

  Idas simmered for a moment, then turned and stalked away.

  “This isn’t going to work, is it?” Jason said softly to Acastus.

  “Do you have a better plan?” Acastus snapped back.

  “Not yet,” Jason admitted.

  “Then you can stand here and watch while I fight. At least I have the courage to try.”

  He stripped down for the contest and advanced toward the ferryman. Falling into a fighting crouch, he stretched his arms out in front of him, searching for a hold.

  “Go on, Acastus!” Idas roared. “Knock him senseless!”

  The others joined in the cheering, all except Jason. If Acastus lost, it would all be up to him, and he knew he could not outwrestle Argos. The ferryman’s muscles had grown massive from poling his boat back and forth across the river; he was probably strong enough to toss a bull on its head.

  No, Jason thought, Chiron’s always said my wits were my best weapon.

  Suddenly he was shaken from his thoughts by a huge groan from his companions. Argos had thrown Acastus flat on his back. Winded, the prince clambered painfully to his feet, spurning the help that was offered to him.

  Jason realized the ferryman was gazing directly at him.

  “There’s only you left now, youngster,” he said. “Do you want to take a beating, too, or will you just concede?”

  Jason looked around at the others, their faces expectant, but not hopeful. Then he looked at the wide expanse of the river. All at once he knew what he had to do.

  “My friends are all better fighters than I,” he said humbly. “What would it prove for you to flatten me as well?”

  “In that case,” said the ferryman, folding his arms, “the contest is over.”

  CHAPTER 22

  THE FERRYMAN’S PRICE

  EVEN ACASTUS WAS STUNNED. “I never really thought you were a coward, Jason. Not until now.”

  “Jason, fight him!” Idas roared. “Show some honor!”

  Jason waved them to silence and addressed the ferryman. “The contest isn’t over, not if you give me the chance to best you in some other way.”

  Argos eyed him suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

  “There are better tests of strength than wrestling.”

  “Oh, are there? And what might those be?”

  Jason shrugged and pointed to the river. “Could you hit the far bank with a stone?”

  The ferryman looked across the water and stroked his grizzled beard. “No man could throw that far.”

  “Let that be our contest, then,” said Jason. “Whoever can hit the far side with a stone wins.”

  “It’s a waste of time,” said Argos. “Let’s just wrestle and get it over with.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re not up to the challenge!” Jason exclaimed.

  For a moment the ferryman bristled. Then he gave a chuckle. “You’ve nerve enough,” he said. “I suppose you’re a prince, too.”

  “No,” said Jason, “I’m Jason of Mount Pelion. I’m a student of the centaur Chiron.”

  “Now him I’ve heard of,” said Argos. “They say the pines on that mountain of his make the finest ships’ timbers in all of Thessaly.”

  “So do you agree to my challenge?” Jason asked.

  Argos stroked his beard a few times, then agreed. He looked around the bank and picked up a stone the size of his fist. He hefted it in his hand to test its weight and nodded. “This should suit. Now you pick one.”

  Jason scanned the ground at his feet and picked out a much smaller stone, one he could completely enfold in his fingers.

  “Right, then,” said the ferryman, “would you care to go first, Jason of Mount Pelion?”

  “No, it’s your boat and your river. You take the first throw.”

  Argos shook his arm to loosen up the muscles, then he drew it back. With a grunt he launched his rock into the air. All eyes followed it as it arced over the river. Only a few feet short of the far bank, it dropped into the water with a splash. Argos turned to Jason and grinned. “Give up?”

  Idas shook his head gloomily. “You’ll never match that, Jason.”

  For a moment, Jason acted as if awed by the ferryman’s strength. His jaw dropped. He took a deep breath.

  Acastus gave Jason a contemptuous glare. “What did you think you were doing? You can’t beat him any more than we could.”

  Jason turned to Lynceus. “Loan me your sling, would you?

  Lynceus pulled the sling from his belt and handed it over. “You might as well have it,” he said, wincing. “That brute bashed in my shoulder when we wrestled, so I can’t use it anyway.”

  The ferryman folded his arms and looked from Jason to the far bank of the river, then back again. He said nothing, but his eyes had narrowed warily.

  Jason placed the stone in the sling and started to wind his arm. He swung the sling around, twirling it faster and faster until his arm started to ache. Then he let loose the missile. The stone shot over the water faster than a racing bird. Then it struck the edge of the sand on the other side.

  Admetus and Lynceus cheered uproariously.

  Acastus and Idas looked to the ferryman, uncertain of how he would react.

  It was Alcestis, though, who said what the others were thinking. Frowning at Jason, she shook her head. “That was hardly fair. You were supposed to throw the stone.”

  “No,” said Jason, “the challenge was to hit the far bank with a stone. I never said anything about throwing.”

  All at once Argos’ grim face broke into a wide grin, and he laughed uproariously. “He used his head,” he said, tapping himself on the temple. “That’s more than any of the rest of you bothered to do.”

  Jason tried to hand the sling back, but Lynceus declined it. “Keep it, Jason. It’s a poor enough gift, but it’s no use to me with my shoulder wrenched like this. And take my pouch of stones as well. You’ve more than earned them.”

  “We can have the boat, then?” Acastus asked.

  Argos thrust out his hand. “The agreement was that I would sell it to you if any of you could best me.”

  Acastus reluctantly slipped off his amulet and dropped it into the ferryman’s palm. Argos stuffed it carelessly into his belt.

  “Time’s running out,” said Jason. “We’ve got to get started.”

  “I should warn you,” said Argos, wrinkling his nose, “I’ve seen a goat swim faster
than this raft. She’ll be dashed to pieces before she gets in sight of Lake Boebis.”

  “Hoi!” exclaimed Jason. “You said you built her with your own hands.”

  “Yes, to carry passengers, baggage, even goats and sheep, from one side of the river to the other. I didn’t build her to go through the Dragon’s Mouth.”

  “What’s that?” The boys spoke as one.

  Shaking his head over their ignorance, Argos told them. “A narrow canyon some miles downriver where the water runs fast as the wind. The rocks are like giant fangs. They’d chew up my poor ferry and spit her out as driftwood.”

  “Then you’ve cheated us!” Acastus cried.

  The old ferryman shook his finger at Acastus. “If you’re to be a king, my boy, you should be slower to judge people.”

  They all stared at him, confused and angry.

  “I said I’d sell you what you need,” the ferryman told them. “I’ve another boat that can do the journey. Oh, yes, she’ll get you where you want to go, if you speak sweetly to her.”

  He turned and walked away, beckoning them to follow. Beyond the cottage was a small inlet where a sheet of canvas had been thrown over some large object that lay close to the water’s edge. Argos gripped the edge of the sheet and yanked it away.

  Jason gasped and Lynceus let out a low whistle. Even Acastus looked impressed.

  “She’s a beauty,” said Admetus.

  Argos nodded. “I think Athena herself must have guided my hand in fashioning her.”

  Jason was inclined to agree. On trips with Chiron, he’d seen clumsy fishing boats casting their nets in the sea, always within safe reach of the shore. But this boat was as different from one of them as a hawk is from a hen.

  Where the ferry was wide and flat, this vessel was as sharp and sleek as a needle and twenty feet long. A pair of bright green eyes was painted on the bow, while stripes of blue and green, shaped like feathers, swept down both sides.

  Alcestis walked up to the boat and ran her hand down the painted feathers. “She looks like a bird, not a boat.”

  Argos nodded again. “I call her the Swift. I built her with my son, and for him.” There was a sudden sadness in his voice. “We were going to transport her north to the great River Peneus and journey down the river, through the Vale of Tempe to the sea. What adventures we might have had then! I was even going to fit her with a sail like the great ships of Egypt and Crete, but …” His voice trailed off, and his eyes seemed suddenly rheumy with tears.

  “What happened?” Alcestis asked.

  Argos grew even more solemn. “A few months ago my boy was climbing among the cliffs, searching for eagles’ eggs, when he lost his grip and fell to his death. He made his voyage—not with me, but with Charon, the ferryman of the Underworld, over the cursed River Styx.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, and put a hand on his arm. “He must have been very proud of this boat.”

  Argos patted her hand, then looked away at the hill they had run down. “I buried him up there, overlooking this very spot where we labored so hard. I left him with provisions for his journey and a bronze token in his mouth to pay for his passage across the Styx.”

  Acastus cleared his throat and looked abashed. “It’s worth more than a gold amulet,” he said. “More than anyone could ever pay you for it.”

  “I wouldn’t entrust her to you if there weren’t one of you worthy of that trust,” said Argos, laying his broad hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Now, if you’re in as big a hurry as you say, we’d best get her into the water.”

  “First a prayer for the journey,” Alcestis said. And though her brother raised his eyebrows, he didn’t argue the point.

  “Wait!” Argos cried. He ran back to his little cottage and returned with a jug of fresh water and a basket of bread, olives, and salted fish. “For the journey.”

  Alcestis spilled a bit of the water on the side of the boat and into the river, saying, “God of the river, son and cousin of great Poseidon, smooth the water for us and carry us over the broad waves safely to the sweet shores of Lake Boebis.”

  While the others manhandled the boat off the bank and into the shallows, Argos drew Jason aside.

  “Not an easy crew to manage, are they?”

  “No, they’re not,” Jason agreed, “but it was worse only a few days ago. And to tell you the truth, I’ve never been in a boat before.”

  “You’re captain enough for the journey,” said the ferryman. “After all, you can only go one way—downriver. Just keep an eye out for the unanticipated. And remember, always expect more of yourself than you do of your crew, and the rest will follow.”

  Jason smiled. “Chiron said something like that, too.”

  “Then he must be wise, for a centaur.” Argos slipped the gold amulet out of his belt and offered it to Jason. “Here, take this. It’s no use to me. You can give it back to your friend Acastus, if you like.”

  Jason looked to where the others were all sliding the boat into the river. Lynceus tripped and plunged into the water. There was a chorus of good-natured laughter, and Acastus took Lynceus’ arm to help him up.

  “No, you keep it,” said Jason. “He’s better off without it. And I think he may be starting to understand that himself.”

  CHAPTER 23

  THE DRAGON’S MOUTH

  SOON ALL SIX OF the travelers were seated in the boat, alongside the jug of fresh water and basket of bread, olives, and salted fish. Then the ferryman waded into the river and gave the Swift a hefty shove to help it out of the shallows.

  “Remember, Argos, son of Arestor, is my name,” the ferryman called after them, his arm held up in a salute. “If you ever need a swift ship built, you know who to send for.”

  “I’ll remember,” Jason called back. “Perhaps one day we’ll make a voyage worthy of your son’s memory.”

  The boat had been equipped with two pairs of oars, one each for Argos and his son. Now Jason, Acastus, Idas, and Admetus were squeezed side by side onto the two benches with an oar each to handle. Lynceus was seated at the back, where he could watch the course ahead and cry out corrections to the rowers. Occasionally he thumped out a beat for them with the flat of his hand.

  Alcestis leaned over the front of the boat like a figurehead, trailing her fingers in the water. “I’ll keep my eyes peeled for river nymphs,” she said.

  “Better yet, look out for rocks,” her brother told her.

  At first Jason found the sensation of water beneath him unsettling; he half expected the boat to sink suddenly, leaving them all to flounder in the swift-flowing river. But soon his unease gave way to a sense of freedom, and he felt as if he’d been born to be on a boat.

  Once the rowers had settled into their rhythm, the sweep of the oars and the force of the current drove the craft forward like a bird, skimming over the surface of the water. With the sun shining overhead and the fresh breeze in their faces, they all felt their strength renewed.

  “The centaurs will have to go the long way around the lake,” said Acastus, “while we can go directly across. We might even overtake them, if we’re lucky.”

  “Yes, if we’re lucky,” Jason agreed. For the first time in days he felt a small measure of hope in his heart.

  They rowed for hours until they all felt as if their arms would drop off. Pausing only briefly for a few mouthfuls of bread and olives and fish, and a gulp of water, they rowed steadily on.

  By now the river was growing narrower and faster. So wide and relatively placid back at Argos’ ferry, it had become a seething torrent, bubbling and frothing under the keel of the speeding boat. They rowed now not to propel the boat forward but to stop it from hitting rocks or diving down huge, cascading riffles. They were all wet from spray, and when the sun dropped behind occasional clouds, the air grew cool, even chilling. Alcestis was trembling with cold, as was Lynceus, but the rowers perspired from their efforts.

  Along the shoreline, the grass gave way to moss-covered crags that reared up on either side
like the ill-tended walls of an abandoned city. The rushing water in that stony valley sounded like a long hoarse breath.

  “We could pull ashore here,” Lynceus said, “and make the rest of the journey on foot.”

  “And find Iolcus a dead city?” said Acastus. “Never! We go on to the lake.”

  Now they fell under the shadow of the cliffs, and the air grew suddenly darker and colder.

  “I hope we’ve made the right choice,” Admetus worried. “None of us are sailors.”

  “Argos said the boat could make it,” said Jason.

  Lynceus sighed. “You’re putting a lot of confidence in him. He’s only a ferryman.”

  “I think he’s a lot more than that,” Jason said.

  “Rock dead ahead!” Alcestis shrieked, pulling herself back from the front of the boat.

  Lynceus half stood, then sat down abruptly, screaming, “Pull left! Hard left!” He signaled with his hand and shouted again, “Left!”

  The rowers dug their oars into the water and tried to drag the Swift from her course, but it was too late. The prow glanced off the rock, and the boat jerked aside as if she had been punched in the jaw. She spun around in the churning water, then righted herself and slipped back into the center.

  “What’s happening?” Alcestis called out in a quavering voice. “Are we sinking?”

  Jason leaned over, quickly examining the hull. “No, there’s no damage,” he assured her. “Argos built her to handle rough waters.”

  Now they used the oars only to fend off the approaching rocks.

  Suddenly Jason felt a chill mist at his back, like a puff of icy breath. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw a cloud of spray filling the canyon ahead.

  “Listen to that noise!” Acastus cried.

  The rush of the water was getting louder, booming off the canyon walls. Lynceus was peering through the mist, straining his eyes to the utmost.

  “Hang on tight,” he warned. “All that spray can only mean one thing.”

  “Waterfall,” Jason said under his breath.

  “What?” Admetus, his seat partner, strained to hear.

  “Waterfall!” Jason shouted.

  The sound of crashing water was almost deafening now, and the little boat was completely engulfed in spray.