by Simon Hawke
"I'm thinking that we have a more immediate problem," said Steiger.
"I know," said Delaney. "If what our friend from last night said is true and Pelias does have spies everywhere, then it would explain why he and his friends in Iolchos are anxious to keep their identities a secret. On the other hand, what if the man you followed was sent by Pelias and you were knocked out to prevent you from discovering that? That high priest seemed unusually solicitous, don't you think?"
"For someone who thinks T.I.A. agents are paranoid, you've got a very suspicious nature," Steiger said.
"Being careful isn't quite the same thing as being paranoid," Delaney said. "I won't argue the point, though. I'm more concerned about what it might indicate if the high priest wasn't involved."
"Meaning?"
"What about what happened at the Shrine of Delphi?"
"What about it?" Steiger said. "You didn't buy that cheap display, did you? Or do you really think supernatural events are natural here?"
"I don't know," Delaney said. "If they are, then we've bought into a lot more trouble than we bargained for. How do you fight magic? And if the high priest didn't arrange that little demonstration, then who did?"
Whoever had arranged for Argus to be paid did so in a clandestine manner. The payment was made in the middle of the night, by a man wrapped in a dark hooded cloak, and the instructions were given to the sleepy shipwright in a muffled voice. Not that Argus seemed to care much, one way or the other. He had been given a commission and the payment had been made in full, that was all that mattered to him. The next day, he hired laborers and began work on the galley.
Exhibiting a rare pragmatic streak, Jason signed himself and his first three Argonauts on as boat builders. In this manner, they were paid the same wages as the other workers out of the funds collected by their mysterious sponsors. This enabled them to secure more comfortable quarters on the waterfront. The lean-to was abandoned without regret.
The galley was the most ambitious project Argus had ever undertaken and he regarded it as a challenge. He was especially pleased that Jason did not get underfoot when it came to the design work, for no craftsman likes to take up a commission and then suffer the instructions of the client when the client clearly doesn't know the first thing about the craft.
The design Argus came up with for the galley was based upon that of a flat-bottomed Egyptian trader's boat he had once seen, only he modified it with a deep keel and a larger mast, as well as increased dimensions. The galley would be constructed out of pegged cedarwood, caulked and lapstraked so that the boards overlapped each other, giving the hull greater rigidity and strength. It would be sixty-five feet long and twelve feet in the beam, with one mast for a large lateen sail set slightly forward of amidships and a small wooden deckhouse aft, atop which would be the steersman's station at the massive oaken tiller. It was to be a ship meant for speed and sea-kindliness, not creature comforts. Its design was somewhat similar to that of later Viking boats.
As the keel was laid, volunteers for Jason's voyage started to arrive. The twin brothers, Castor and Pollux, were among the first to sign on for the adventure. Then came Telamon and Oileus, the fathers of the two Ajaxes who fought upon the plains of Troy. Tiphys, who had made many sea voyages, would be the steersman, and after him came Butes, said by many to be the fairest of all men. Andre shrugged and said she found him perhaps a bit too fair. Ancaios, who could read the stars, would be their navigator and Meleager, slayer of the Caledonian Boar, came in search of greater challenges. There were Mopsus the astrologer and Idmon the soothsayer; Caeneus the fighter; Theseus, who killed the Minotaur; and Orpheus the harpist and singer who, the others said, had actually been to Hades and returned to tell the tale-or sing the song, depending on the preferences of the audience.
Last, but far from least, came Hercules and his young squire, Hylas, a slight blond boy who strained under the weight of his master's weapons while Hercules himself marched unencumbered, dressed in a lion's skin and leather sandals with silver greaves. He walked with huge strides, swinging his massive twenty-four-inch arms, moving like a juggernaut. His hair was black and curly and his beard was thick and full. His eyes had the look of a man who would not back down from anyone or anything. His voice was deep, but he was soft-spoken, when he spoke at all, which was seldom because he had a frightful stutter. He let Hylas do most of his talking for him, since he could not even get his own name out without a great deal of effort. The man who was said to be half a god and invincible in battle was easily defeated by hard consonants.
The shipwright, seeing the flamboyant adventurers who had assembled for the voyage, became infected by their spirit and let it be known that though he might be the oldest among them, he would not be denied a place among the crew, especially since the ship would bear his name. As the Argo neared completion, Argus set about carving the figurehead, a helmeted blonde woman with a shield on her left arm. Her right arm was extended and pointing outward. Argus proclaimed it to be the likeness of Hera, Queen of the Immortals. Her face was beautiful, yet grave and she looked as if she were about to speak. With the help of the Argonauts, the galley was completed, then painted a bright red. Following a sacrifice to Poseidon, they raised the mast and pushed the galley over log rollers into the bay. From a promontory over Iolchos, King Pelias watched with his high priest as the Argo embarked upon her voyage.
"I never dreamed that Jason would gather such a crew of heroes to his side," said Pelias. "It worries me. Men such as Meleager, Theseus and Hercules, with such as these, how can he fail in his quest?"
"Never fear," said the high priest. "The quest will fail, Pelias. Not all aboard the Argo wish for Jason to succeed."
4
The Argo sailed out of the bay of Iolchos on a course heading toward the Isle of Sciathos, passing the Cape of Sepius and then turning north toward Mount Pelion. They followed the coastline, keeping the open sea on their right. With Tiphys at the helm, the ship moved smoothly through the water under the power of the Argonauts, rowing to the drumbeat cadence set by Argus. The sea was dead calm and there was little wind.
Rowing was hard work and Orpheus led them in a song to the rhythm of the cadence, so the task would seem a little easier. It wasn't long before the Argonauts were glistening with sweat from their exertions. All had stripped off their chitons and they rowed dressed only in their loincloths. Andre was unclothed from the waist up, as well. Her naked breasts were no cause for excitement, since it was not unusual in this time for women to have one or both breasts bared. The only comments resulting from her nakedness were those having to do with the degree of her muscularity.
The cult of the body was a passion with the ancient Greeks, among whom sport took on spiritual overtones. All of the Argonauts were in excellent physical condition. The temporal agents, however, were a product of a time when physical training was far more developed and augmented scientifically. Among the Argonauts, only Hercules boasted a more impressive physique. He shared his oar with Hylas, but this soon proved to be an impractical arrangement. Hylas could not reach forward far enough to make the complete rowing motion and he kept being dragged off his seat by his powerful master's strokes. It was decided to spare Hylas from the task, as Hercules proved quite capable of handling the oar all by himself, and thereafter the youth performed the duties of a cabin boy, fetching water or preparing food, tasks for which he seemed much more suited.
They stopped at Mount Pelion so Chiron's old pupils could Ash with him before they continued on their voyage. Dropping anchor just offshore, they waded in with Hercules carrying the slight Hylas on his shoulders, for the water was over the boy's head and he could not swim. The centaur, having seen the Argo from the heights, came down to greet them and escort them to his cave on Pelion. The delighted Hylas was treated to a ride upon the centaur's back as they made the climb.
At the centaur's cave, which was large and appointed comfortably with crude wooden furniture Chiron had built himself, they made a fire and sat down to a feast of ven
ison, pork, fruits and vegetables and wine. Orpheus told the story of his descent down into Hell, which apparently many of the Argonauts had heard before, but they all listened attentively just the same.
He stood and walked into the center of the chamber, standing in the exact spot where his mellifluent tenor voice would echo best off the rock walls of Chiron's cavern. He stared down at the ground for a long moment and waited until absolute silence was achieved, then he jerked his head up abruptly, tossing his long dark curls, and his eyes seemed to glaze as he stared off into the infinite distance.
"Her name was Eurydice," he said, pronouncing the name as if it were a holy word, "and I loved her with all the mad young passion of a boy first struck by Cupid's arrow. One day, while she was running along a riverbank, a snake reared up and bit her. Her death was more than I could bear. All Thrace mourned her passing, but none mourned more than I. I alone could not accept her death. I refused to believe that she was lost to me forever. I thought a love so great as mine could reach out even into Hades and somehow bring her back to me. Night and day, I prayed to all the gods and sacrificed in all the temples until, at last, Cyrene, the goddess of the sea, heard my lament and took pity on me.
"She ordered the waters to be parted and I walked between them, descending down through the roiling waves to her where she ruled in the depths. There, surrounded by her nymphs, with sea anemones and creatures of the deep all around her, she told me to seek out Proteus, the Old Man of the Sea. 'For Proteus knows all,' she said. 'He knows all that is, all that has been, and all that is yet to be. Seize him, Orpheus,' she said to me, 'Seize him and hold him fast. Only fear will make him tell you what you wish to know. He will resist you and play upon your own fears to escape from you. He will assume the guise of beasts and monsters, yet you must not be afraid. If you relax your grip, he will swiftly leap into the sea and swim away and you shall never catch him. Hold fast to him,' Cyrene said, 'and the more he changes shape, the tighter you must hold him. Only when he reverts to his true form will you know that you have vanquished him. Then you may put your questions to him and he will be bound to answer.'
"She told me where to find the Old Man of the Sea and I journeyed far and wide until, at last, I found Proteus sleeping on a beach, his sleek form stretched out upon the sands. I crept up slowly and with the greatest of care, for Cyrene warned me that his hearing was acute, and then I leaped upon him, seizing him and holding on with all my strength! He gave a frightened start, then on the instant I perceived that I held not an old man with seaweed in his hair and a drowned look in his eyes, but a fearsome shark that writhed and thrashed and twisted, straining to fasten its terrible gaping jaws upon me!
"I screamed with terror, yet somehow I held on in desperation, and suddenly the shark was gone and in its place I held a scaled sea serpent which coiled its length about me, seeking to squeeze the very breath out of my chest! Yet even as I felt its coils tightening around me and it seemed as though my bones would burst, I held on tighter, squeezing back with every bit of strength I had! The serpent gave way to a fearsome dragon which beat its wings about my head and seared me with its breath. I made my grip still tighter, squeezing the creature's throat with all my might. The dragon disappeared and in its place I held a kraken, then a griffin, then a hideous mollusk that stung me with its slimy tendrils. Proteus changed into every terrifying creature known to man and still I would not release him until, at long last, succumbing to my choking hold, he returned, spent, to his true shape and I knew that I had won.
" 'I know what it is you wish to know of me,' Proteus said, and he told me how to find the Secret Gates of Taenarus and pass through them to the Underworld. He told me all that I must do and I followed his instructions, willing to brave any danger so that Eurydice could be restored to me. I descended into Hades and there, in the cold darkness, I found Charon the dreaded ferryman, who knew my purpose and conveyed me across the River Styx to the gates of Death's dominion. I encountered Cerebrus, the slathering three-headed hound that guards the gates, and as it howled and snapped at me, I lulled it with a song until the fearsome beast was curled beneath my feet and sleeping. I played my lyre and sang to the lost souls and eased their torment and their anguish. The Furies, yes, even Death himself, were spellbound by the profound lament I sang, spellbound because I sang with all my heart, my grief pouring out from the very bottom of my soul. And yes, I found her, on the very brink of the Inferno, my Eurydice, and I called out to her and I saw her shade approach.
"Proteus had warned me that I must not gaze upon her, for men must always avert their eyes from those of ghosts or gods, so remembering his words, I turned from her and went back the way I came, bidding her to follow me. Yet as I crossed the River Styx in Charon's ferry, a fear came over me that she may not have boarded with me, that she had been left behind, and powerless to fight the impulse, I turned around. For the briefest instant, I beheld her standing there and as our eyes met, I knew that all was lost.
"Three times did thunder crash and my love cried out, 'You have doomed me!' and faded from my sight like smoke dispersing on the winds. I cried out, pleading with the ferryman to turn around, but he would not take me back across. He drew up to the bank and pointed with his bony hand, showing me the way back to the light of day. I had no choice but to go, for my time had not yet come. Gladly would I have remained in Hades with my love, but the Fates had not decreed it should be so. There were other challenges before me, other voyages to make before the final voyage that would reunite me with my love.
"So that is why I am here with you tonight, my friends, as we embark upon this perilous quest. That is why I have no fear of whatever lies ahead, for each man must make his own voyage in his own time. Who knows what lies ahead of us? Come what may, be it glorious success or fatal failure, I know that in the end, I will make the journey down to Hades once again and this time, I will remain forever in the Underworld where spirits dwell, united with my Eurydice. I have learned that no man should fear his destiny and that no parting should bring sorrow, for all shall come together in the end."
He stood silently, looking down at the ground, then slowly returned to his seat as the Argonauts nodded and murmured their approval of the tale.
"It grows better each time he tells it," Euphemus said to Andre.
"Do you think any of it is true?" she said. "What is truth?" said Idmon, the soothsayer. "If it were a dream, would it then be false? Who is to say what challenges the gods may put before us, even in our dreams? Who is to say that our wakeful state is not itself a dream dreamed by the Immortals? Life is a tale and therein lies its magic. The oftener the tale is told, the truer it becomes. When men stop telling tales, then life itself becomes a lie."
"What is the sound of one hand clapping?" said Delaney wryly.
Idmon turned to him and smiled. "Is it not the sound that is made when one hand claps?"
"You have me there," said Delaney, smiling. "I am neither soothsayer nor a wise man. Merely a seeker who asks foolish questions."
"Indeed," said Idmon, "yet who is the wiser? The one wise enough to know the answer or the one wise enough to ask the question?"
"Enough of this philosophy," said Menoetius. "Such musings are fit only for old men. We need tales of great deeds, not weighty thoughts."
"We shall hear a tale of a great deed then," Castor said. "Tell us, Theseus, of how you slew the Minotaur."
Theseus spat out a piece of pork fat and belched. "I was younger then," he said, patting his muscular stomach contentedly. "Young and full of fire to prove myself. Full also of anger at the unjust policy which each nine years sent seven young Athenian boys and maidens to the labyrinth of Crete, there to wander terror stricken through the maze until they were found and eaten by the Minotaur."
"Why was this done?" asked Hylas, eyes wide with wonder. "And what sort of creature was this Minotaur?"
"It was a manner of tribute paid by the Athenians to Crete," said Theseus, "and it was meant to appease the Minotaur. You may ha
ve heard that this creature was the offspring of an accursed, bestial love born of a mad and savage passion. It was said that Pasiphae, the depraved wife of King Minos of Crete, fell in love with a white bull which had a black spot between its horns, an animal held sacred by the people of Crete. In her mad obsession, Pasiphae had congress with this beast and from this union came a fearsome creature, cursed by the gods to be born in a shape that was half man, half animal. Its torso was that of a man, yet its head and hindquarters were those of a bull. Aghast at this horrible perversion, Minos wanted to remove it forever from his sight, yet he could not kill it, for it was the offspring of a sacred animal.
"He sought out the famed craftsman, Daedalus, and directed him to build a labyrinth to house the monster. Daedalus constructed this labyrinth deep within a cavern, with many passages which turned and twisted, forming a maze so intricate that once one entered it, the way out could not be found again. It was to the depths of this labyrinthine maze that Minos consigned the Minotaur and each nine years thereafter, youths and maidens were sent into this maze so that their blood would appease the creature. Over the years, this Minotaur grew large and powerful and terrifying, so that Minos greatly feared it.
"My father, King Aegeus, was the unhappy man to whom the task fell of selecting the seven sacrificial victims when the boat with the black sail departed each nine years for Crete. He was hated by the people for this, especially so since he was the one man whose own children were exempt from the deadly lottery. Anxious to prove myself in battle and test my courage, and to silence those who accused my unhappy father of being unjust, I volunteered to go, thereby sparing at least one family the agony of seeing a child depart on the ship with the black sail never to return."
"Yet you believed that you would return," said Jason. "You knew that right was on your side and therefore you would prevail."
"Well, that may be so," Theseus said, "but I have always put my faith in the strength of my own sword arm than in the power of right. I believed that since the Minotaur was a creature born of flesh, then it could be killed as any other creature born of flesh. And I believed also, as I continue to believe, that life without a challenge is a kind of death. I told my father that I would do my utmost to destroy this Minotaur, for if the Minotaur were killed, then the tribute would be ended. And I told my father that the same ship on which I sailed for Crete would return with a white sail hoisted to tell of my victory, or the black sail to tell of my failure and my death.
