The Golden Fleece and the Heroes who Lived Before Achilles

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The Golden Fleece and the Heroes who Lived Before Achilles

THE GOLDEN FLEECE AND THE HEROES WHO LIVED BEFORE ACHILLES


BY

PADRAIC COLUM



1921



CONTENTS

PART I. The Voyage to Colchis

    I. THE YOUTH JASON
   II. KING PELIAS
  III. THE GOLDEN FLEECE
   IV. THE ASSEMBLING OF THE HEROES AND THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP
    V. THE ARGO
   VI. POLYDEUCES' VICTORY AND HERACLES' LOSS
  VII. KING PHINEUS
 VIII. KING PHINEUS'S COUNSEL; THE LANDING IN LEMNOS
   IX. THE LEMNIAN MAIDENS
    X. THE DEPARTURE FROM LEMNOS
   XI. THE PASSAGE OF THE SYMPLEGADES
  XII. THE MOUNTAIN CAUCASUS



PART II. The Return To Greece

    I. KING ÆETES
   II. MEDEA THE SORCERESS
  III. THE WINNING OF THE GOLDEN FLEECE
   IV. THE SLAYING OF APSYRTUS
    V. MEDEA COMES TO CIRCE
   VI. IN THE LAND OF THE PHAEACIANS
  VII. THEY COME TO THE DESERT LAND
 VIII. THE CARRYING OF THE ARGO
   IX. NEAR TO IOLCUS AGAIN



PART III. The Heroes of the Quest

    I. ATALANTA THE HUNTRESS
   II. PELEUS AND HIS BRIDE FROM THE SEA
  III. THESEUS AND THE MINOTAUR
   IV. THE LIFE AND LABORS OF HERACLES
    V. ADMETUS
   VI. HOW ORPHEUS THE MINSTREL WENT DOWN TO THE WORLD OF THE DEAD
  VII. JASON AND MEDEA




PART I. The Voyage to Colchis



I. THE YOUTH JASON

A man in the garb of a slave went up the side of that mountain that is
all covered with forest, the Mountain Pelion. He carried in his arms a
little child.

When it was full noon the slave came into a clearing of the forest so
silent that it seemed empty of all life. He laid the child down on the
soft moss, and then, trembling with the fear of what might come before
him, he raised a horn to his lips and blew three blasts upon it.

Then he waited. The blue sky was above him, the great trees stood away
from him, and the little child lay at his feet. He waited, and then he
heard the thud-thud of great hooves. And then from between the trees he
saw coming toward him the strangest of all beings, one who was half man
and half horse; this was Chiron the centaur.

Chiron came toward the trembling slave. Greater than any horse was
Chiron, taller than any man. The hair of his head flowed back into his
horse's mane, his great beard flowed over his horse's chest; in his
man's hand he held a great spear.

Not swiftly he came, but the slave could see that in those great limbs
of his there was speed like to the wind's. The slave fell upon his
knees. And with eyes that were full of majesty and wisdom and limbs
that were full of strength and speed, the king-centaur stood above him.
"O my lord," the slave said, "I have come before thee sent by Æson, my
master, who told me where to come and what blasts to blow upon the
horn. And Æson, once King of Iolcus, bade me say to thee that if thou
dost remember his ancient friendship with thee thou wilt, perchance,
take this child and guard and foster him, and, as he grows, instruct
him with thy wisdom."

"For Æson's sake I will rear and foster this child," said Chiron the
king-centaur in a deep voice.

The child lying on the moss had been looking up at the four-footed and
two-handed centaur. Now the slave lifted him up and placed him in the
centaur's arms. He said:

"Æson bade me tell thee that the child's name is Jason. He bade me give
thee this ring with the great ruby in it that thou mayst give it to the
child when he is grown. By this ring with its ruby and the images
engraved on it Æson may know his son when they meet after many years
and many changes. And another thing Æson bade me say to thee, O my lord
Chiron: not presumptuous is he, but he knows that this child has the
regard of the immortal Goddess Hera, the wife of Zeus."

Chiron held Æson's son in his arms, and the little child put hands into
his great beard. Then the centaur said, "Let Æson know that his son
will be reared and fostered by me, and that, when they meet again,
there will be ways by which they will be known to each other."

Saying this Chiron the centaur, holding the child in his arms, went
swiftly toward the forest arches; then the slave took up the horn and
went down the side of the Mountain Pelion. He came to where a horse was
hidden, and he mounted and rode, first to a city, and then to a village
that was beyond the city.

All this was before the famous walls of Troy were built; before King
Priam had come to the throne of his father and while he was still
known, not as Priam, but as Podarces. And the beginning of all these
happenings was in Iolcus, a city in Thessaly.

Cretheus founded the city and had ruled over it in days before King
Priam was born. He left two sons, Æson and Pelias. Æson succeeded his
father. And because he was a mild and gentle man, the men of war did
not love Æson; they wanted a hard king who would lead them to conquests.

Pelias, the brother of Æson, was ever with the men of war; he knew what
mind they had toward Æson and he plotted with them to overthrow his
brother. This they did, and they brought Pelias to reign as king in
Iolcus.

The people loved Æson; and they feared Pelias. And because the people
loved him and would be maddened by his slaying, Pelias and the men of
war left him living. With his wife, Alcimide, and his infant son, Æson
went from the city, and in a village that was at a distance from Iolcus
he found a hidden house and went to dwell in it.

Æson would have lived content there were it not that he was fearful for
Jason, his infant son. Jason, he knew, would grow into a strong and a
bold youth, and Pelias, the king, would be made uneasy on his account.
Pelias would slay the son, and perhaps would slay the father for the
son's sake when his memory would come to be less loved by the people.
Æson thought of such things in his hidden house, and he pondered on
ways to have his son reared away from Iolcus and the dread and the
power of King Pelias.

He had for a friend one who was the wisest of all creatures Chiron the
centaur; Chiron who was half man and half horse; Chiron who had lived
and was yet to live measureless years. Chiron had fostered Heracles,
and it might be that he would not refuse to foster Jason, Æson's child.

Away in the fastnesses of Mount Pelion Chiron dwelt; once Æson had been
with him and had seen the centaur hunt with his great bow and his great
spears. And Æson knew a way that one might come to him; Chiron himself
had told him of the way.

Now there was a slave in his house who had been a huntsman and who knew
all the ways of the Mountain Pelion. Æson talked with this slave one
day, and after he had talked with him he sat for a long time over the
cradle of his sleeping infant. And then he spoke to Alcimide, his wife,
telling her of a parting that made her weep. That evening the slave
came in and Æson took the child from the arms of the mournful-eyed
mother and put him in the slave's arms. Also he gave him a horn and a
ring with a great ruby in it and mystic images engraved on its gold.
Then when the ways were dark the slave mounted a horse, and, with the
child in his arms, rode through the city that King Pelias ruled over.
In the morning he came to that mountain that is all covered with
forest, the Mountain Pelion. And that evening he came back to the
village and to Æson's hidden house, and he told his master how he had
prospered.

Æson was content thereafter although he was lonely and although his
wife was lonely in their childlessness. But the time came when they
rejoiced that their child had been sent into an unreachable place. For
messengers from King Pelias came inquiring about the boy. They told the
king's messengers that the child had strayed off from his nurse, and
that whether he had been slain by a wild beast or had been drowned in
the swift River Anaurus they did not know.

The years went by and Pelias felt secure upon the throne he had taken
from his brother. Once he sent to the oracle of the gods to ask of it
whether he should be fearful of anything. What the oracle answered was
this: that King Pelias had but one thing to dread--the coming of a
half-shod man.

The centaur nourished the child Jason on roots and fruits and honey;
for shelter they had a great cave that Chiron had lived in for
numberless years. When he had grown big enough to leave the cave Chiron
would let Jason mount on his back; with the child holding on to his
great mane he would trot gently through the ways of the forest.

Jason began to know the creatures of the forest and their haunts.
Sometimes Chiron would bring his great bow with him; then Jason, on his
back, would hold the quiver and would hand him the arrows. The centaur
would let the boy see him kill with a single arrow the bear, the boar,
or the deer. And soon Jason, running beside him, hunted too.

No heroes were ever better trained than those whose childhood and youth
had been spent with Chiron the king-centaur. He made them more swift of
foot than any other of the children of men. He made them stronger and
more ready with the spear and bow. Jason was trained by Chiron as
Heracles just before him had been trained, and as Achilles was to be
trained afterward.

Moreover, Chiron taught him the knowledge of the stars and the wisdom
that had to do with the ways of the gods.

Once, when they were hunting together, Jason saw a form at the end of
an alley of trees--the form of a woman it was--of a woman who had on
her head a shining crown. Never had Jason dreamt of seeing a form so
wondrous. Not very near did he come, but he thought he knew that the
woman smiled upon him. She was seen no more, and Jason knew that he had
looked upon one of the immortal goddesses.

All day Jason was filled with thought of her whom he had seen. At
night, when the stars were out, and when they were seated outside the
cave, Chiron and Jason talked together, and Chiron told the youth that
she whom he had seen was none other than Hera, the wife of Zeus, who
had for his father Æson and for himself an especial friendliness.

So Jason grew up upon the mountain and in the forest fastnesses. When
he had reached his full height and had shown himself swift in the hunt
and strong with the spear and bow, Chiron told him that the time had
come when he should go back to the world of men and make his name
famous by the doing of great deeds.

And when Chiron told him about his father Æson--about how he had been
thrust out of the kingship by Pelias, his uncle a great longing came
upon Jason to see his father and a fierce anger grew up in his heart
against Pelias.

Then the time came when he bade good-by to Chiron his great instructor;
the time came when he went from the centaur's cave for the last time,
and went through the wooded ways and down the side of the Mountain
Pelion. He came to the river, to the swift Anaurus, and he found it
high in flood. The stones by which one might cross were almost all
washed over; far apart did they seem in the flood.

Now as he stood there pondering on what he might do there came up to
him an old woman who had on her back a load of brushwood. "Wouldst thou
cross?" asked the old woman. "Wouldst thou cross and get thee to the
city of Iolcus, Jason, where so many things await thee?"

Greatly was the youth astonished to hear his name spoken by this old
woman, and to hear her give the name of the city he was bound for.
"Wouldst thou cross the Anaurus?" she asked again. "Then mount upon my
back, holding on to the wood I carry, and I will bear thee over the
river."

Jason smiled. How foolish this old woman was to think that she could
bear him across the flooded river! She came near him and she took him
in her arms and lifted him up on her shoulders. Then, before he knew
what she was about to do, she had stepped into the water.

From stone to stepping-stone she went, Jason holding on to the wood
that she had drawn to her shoulders. She left him down upon the bank.
As she was lifting him down one of his feet touched the water; the
swift current swept away a sandal.

He stood on the bank knowing that she who had carried him across the
flooded river had strength from the gods. He looked upon her, and
behold! she was transformed. Instead of an old woman there stood before
him one who had on a golden robe and a shining crown. Around her was a
wondrous light--the light of the sun when it is most golden. Then Jason
knew that she who had carried him across the broad Anaurus was the
goddess whom he had seen in the ways of the forest--Hera, great Zeus's
wife.

"Go into Iolcus, Jason," said great Hera to him, "go into Iolcus, and
in whatever chance doth befall thee act as one who has the eyes of the
immortals upon him."

She spoke and she was seen no more. Then Jason went on his way to the
city that Cretheus, his grandfather, had founded and that his father
Æson had once ruled over. He came into that city, a tall, great-limbed,
unknown youth, dressed in a strange fashion, and having but one sandal
on.



II. KING PELIAS

That day King Pelias, walking through the streets of his city, saw
coming toward him a youth who was half shod. He remembered the words of
the oracle that bade him beware of a half-shod man, and straightway he
gave orders to his guards to lay hands upon the youth.

But the guards wavered when they went toward him, for there was
something about the youth that put them in awe of him. He came with the
guards, however, and he stood before the king's judgment seat.

Fearfully did Pelias look upon him. But not fearfully did the youth
look upon the king. With head lifted high he cried out, "Thou art
Pelias, but I do not salute thee as king. Know that I am Jason, the son
of Æson from whom thou hast taken the throne and scepter that were
rightfully his."

King Pelias looked to his guards. He would have given them a sign to
destroy the youth's life with their spears, but behind his guards he
saw a threatening multitude--the dwellers of the city of Iolcus; they
gathered around, and Pelias knew that he had become more and more hated
by them. And from the multitude a cry went up, "Æson, Æson! May Æson
come back to us! Jason, son of Æson! May nothing evil befall thee,
brave youth!"

Then Pelias knew that the youth might not be slain. He bent his head
while he plotted against him in his heart. Then he raised his eyes, and
looking upon Jason he said, "O goodly youth, it well may be that thou
art the son of Æson, my brother. I am well pleased to see thee here. I
have had hopes that I might be friends with Æson, and thy coming here
may be the means to the renewal of our friendship. We two brothers may
come together again. I will send for thy father now, and he will be
brought to meet thee in my royal palace. Go with my guards and with
this rejoicing people, and in a little while thou and I and thy father
Æson will sit at a feast of friends."

So Pelias said, and Jason went with the guards and the crowd of people,
and he came to the palace of the king and he was brought within. The
maids led him to the bath and gave him new robes to wear. Dressed in
these Jason looked a prince indeed.

But all that while King Pelias remained on his judgment seat with his
crowned head bent down. When he raised his head his dark brows were
gathered together and his thin lips were very close. He looked to the
swords and spears of his guards, and he made a sign to the men to stand
close to him. Then he left the judgment seat and he went to the palace.



III. THE GOLDEN FLEECE

They brought Jason into a hall where Æson, his father, waited. Very
strange did this old and grave-looking man appear to him. But when Æson
spoke, Jason remembered even without the sight of the ruby ring the
tone of his father's voice and he clasped him to him. And his father
knew him even without the sight of the ruby ring which Jason had upon
his finger.

Then the young man began to tell of the centaur and of his life upon
the Mountain Pelion. As they were speaking together Pelias came to
where they stood, Pelias in the purple robe of a king and with the
crown upon his head. Æson tightly clasped Jason as if he had become
fearful for his son. Pelias smilingly took the hand of the young man
and the hand of his brother, and he bade them both welcome to his
palace.

Then, walking between them, the king brought the two into the feasting
hall. The youth who had known only the forest and the mountainside had
to wonder at the beauty and the magnificence of all he saw around him.
On the walls were bright pictures; the tables were of polished wood,
and they had vessels of gold and dishes of silver set upon them; along
the walls were vases of lovely shapes and colors, and everywhere there
were baskets heaped with roses white and red.

The king's guests were already in the hall, young men and elders, and
maidens went amongst them carrying roses which they strung into wreaths
for the guests to put upon their heads. A soft-handed maiden gave Jason
a wreath of roses and he put it on his head as he sat down at the
king's table. When he looked at all the rich and lovely things in that
hall, and when he saw the guests looking at him with friendly eyes,
Jason felt that he was indeed far away from the dim spaces of the
mountain forest and from the darkness of the centaur's cave.

Rich food and wine such as he had never dreamt of tasting were brought
to the tables. He ate and drank, and his eyes followed the fair maidens
who went through the hall. He thought how glorious it was to be a king.
He heard Pelias speak to Æson, his father, telling him that he was old
and that he was weary of ruling; that he longed to make friends, and
that he would let no enmity now be between him and his brother. And he
heard the king say that he, Jason, was young and courageous, and that
he would call upon him to help to rule the land, and that, in a while,
Jason would bear full sway over the kingdom that Cretheus had founded.

So Pelias spoke to Æson as they both sat together at the king's high
table. But Jason, looking on them both, saw that the eyes that his
father turned on him were full of warnings and mistrust.

After they had eaten King Pelias made a sign, and a cupbearer bringing
a richly wrought cup came and stood before the king. The king stood up,
holding the cup in his hands, and all in the hall waited silently. Then
Pelias put the cup into Jason's hands and he cried out in a voice that
was heard all through the hall, "Drink from this cup, O nephew Jason!
Drink from this cup, O man who will soon come to rule over the kingdom
that Cretheus founded!"

All in the hall stood up and shouted with delight at that speech. But
the king was not delighted with their delight, Jason saw. He took the
cup and he drank the rich wine; pride grew in him; he looked down the
hall and he saw faces all friendly to him; he felt as a king might
feel, secure and triumphant. And then he heard King Pelias speaking
once more.

"This is my nephew Jason, reared and fostered in the centaur's cave. He
will tell you of his life in the forest and the mountains, his life
that was like to the life of the half gods."

Then Jason spoke to them, telling them of his life on the Mountain
Pelion. When he had spoken, Pelias said:

"I was bidden by the oracle to beware of the man whom I should see
coming toward me half shod. But, as you all see, I have brought the
half-shod man to my palace and my feasting hall, so little do I dread
the anger of the gods.

"And I dread it little because I am blameless. This youth, the son of
my brother, is strong and courageous, and I rejoice in his strength and
courage, for I would have him take my place and reign over you. Ali,
that I were as young as he is now! Ali, that I had been reared and
fostered as he was reared and fostered by the wise centaur and under
the eyes of the immortals! Then would I do that which in my youth I
often dreamed of doing! Then would I perform a deed that would make my
name and the name of my city famous throughout all Greece! Then would I
bring from far Colchis, the famous Fleece of Gold that King Æetes keeps
guard over!"

He finished speaking, and all in the hall shouted out, "The Golden
Fleece, the Golden Fleece from Colchis!" Jason stood up, and his
father's hand gripped him. But he did not heed the hold of his father's
hand, for "The Golden Fleece, the Golden Fleece!" rang in his ears, and
before his eyes were the faces of those who were all eager for the
sight of the wonder that King Æetes kept guard over.

Then said Jason, "Thou hast spoken well, O King Pelias! Know, and know
all here assembled, that I have heard of the Golden Fleece and of the
dangers that await on any one who should strive to win it from King
Æetes's care. But know, too, that I would strive to win the Fleece and
bring it to Iolcus, winning fame both for myself and for the city."

When he had spoken he saw his father's stricken eyes; they were fixed
upon him. But he looked from them to the shining eyes of the young men
who were even then pressing around where he stood. "Jason, Jason!" they
shouted. "The Golden Fleece for Iolcus!"

"King Pelias knows that the winning of the Golden Fleece is a feat most
difficult," said Jason. "But if he will have built for me a ship that
can make the voyage to far Colchis, and if he will send throughout all
Greece the word of my adventuring so that all the heroes who would win
fame might come with me, and if ye, young heroes of Iolcus, will come
with me, I will peril my life to win the wonder that King Æetes keeps
guard over."

He spoke and those in the hall shouted again and made clamor around
him. But still his father sat gazing at him with stricken eyes.

King Pelias stood up in the hall and holding up his scepter he said, "O
my nephew Jason, and O friends assembled here, I promise that I will
have built for the voyage the best ship that ever sailed from a harbor
in Greece. And I promise that I will send throughout all Greece a word
telling of Jason's voyage so that all heroes desirous of winning fame
may come to help him and to help all of you who may go with him to win
from the keeping of King Æetes the famous Fleece of Gold."

So King Pelias said, but Jason, looking to the king from his father's
stricken eyes, saw that he had been led by the king into the acceptance
of the voyage so that he might fare far from Iolcus, and perhaps lose
his life in striving to gain the wonder that King Æetes kept guarded.
By the glitter in Pelias's eyes he knew the truth. Nevertheless Jason
would not take back one word that he had spoken; his heart was strong
within him, and he thought that with the help of the bright-eyed youths
around and with the help of those who would come to him at the word of
the voyage, he would bring the Golden Fleece to Iolcus and make famous
for all time his own name.



IV. THE ASSEMBLING OF THE HEROES AND THE BUILDING OF THE SHIP

First there came the youths Castor and Polydeuces. They came riding on
white horses, two noble-looking brothers. From Sparta they came, and
their mother was Leda, who, after the twin brothers, had another child
born to her--Helen, for whose sake the sons of many of Jason's friends
were to wage war against the great city of Troy. These were the first
heroes who came to Iolcus after the word had gone forth through Greece
of Jason's adventuring in quest of the Golden Fleece.

And then there came one who had both welcome and reverence from Jason;
this one came without spear or bow, bearing in his hands a lyre only.
He was Orpheus, and he knew all the ways of the gods and all the
stories of the gods; when he sang to his lyre the trees would listen
and the beasts would follow him. It was Chiron who had counseled
Orpheus to go with Jason; Chiron the centaur had met him as he was
wandering through the forests on the Mountain Pelion and had sent him
down into Iolcus.

Then there came two men well skilled in the handling of ships--Tiphys
and Nauplius. Tiphys knew all about the sun and winds and stars, and
all about the signs by which a ship might be steered, and Nauplius had
the love of Poseidon, the god of the sea.

Afterward there came, one after the other, two who were famous for
their hunting. No two could be more different than these two were. The
first was Arcas. He was dressed in the skin of a bear; he had red hair
and savage-looking eyes, and for arms he carried a mighty bow with
bronze-tipped arrows. The folk were watching an eagle as he came into
the city, an eagle that was winging its way far, far up in the sky.
Arcas drew his bow, and with one arrow he brought the eagle down.

The other hunter was a girl, Atalanta. Tall and brighthaired was
Atalanta, swift and good with the bow. She had dedicated herself to
Artemis, the guardian of the wild things, and she had vowed that she
would remain unwedded. All the heroes welcomed Atalanta as a comrade,
and the maiden did all the things that the young men did.

There came a hero who was less youthful than Castor or Polydeuces; he
was a man good in council named Nestor. Afterward Nestor went to the
war against Troy, and then he was the oldest of the heroes in the camp
of Agamemnon.

Two brothers came who were to be special friends of Jason's--Peleus and
Telamon. Both were still youthful and neither had yet achieved any
notable deed. Afterward they were to be famous, but their sons were to
be even more famous, for the son of Telamon was strong Aias, and the
son of Peleus was great Achilles.

Another who came was Admetus; afterward he became a famous king. The
God Apollo once made himself a shepherd and he kept the flocks of King
Admetus.

And there came two brothers, twins, who were a wonder to all who beheld
them. Zetes and Calais they were named; their mother was Oreithyia, the
daughter of Erechtheus, King of Athens, and their father was Boreas,
the North Wind. These two brothers had on their ankles wings that
gleamed with golden scales; their black hair was thick upon their
shoulders, and it was always being shaken by the wind.

With Zetes and Calais there came a youth armed with a great sword whose
name was Theseus. Theseus's father was an unknown king; he had bidden
the mother show their son where his sword was hidden. Under a great
stone the king had hidden it before Theseus was born. Before he had
grown out of his boyhood Theseus had been able to raise the stone and
draw forth his father's sword. As yet he had done no great deed, but he
was resolved to win fame and to find his unknown father.

On the day that the messengers had set out to bring through Greece the
word of Jason's going forth in quest of the Golden Fleece the
woodcutters made their way up into the forests of Mount Pelion; they
began to fell trees for the timbers of the ship that was to make the
voyage to far Colchis.

Great timbers were cut and brought down to Pagasae, the harbor of
Iolcus. On the night of the day he had helped to bring them down Jason
had a dream. He dreamt that she whom he had seen in the forest ways and
afterward by the River Anaurus appeared to him. And in his dream the
goddess bade him rise early in the morning and welcome a man whom he
would meet at the city's gate--a tall and gray-haired man who would
have on his shoulders tools for the building of a ship.

He went to the city's gate and he met such a man. Argus was his name.
He told Jason that a dream had sent him to the city of Iolcus. Jason
welcomed him and lodged him in the king's palace, and that day the word
went through the city that the building of the great ship would soon be
begun.

But not with the timbers brought from Mount Pelion did Argus begin.
Walking through the palace with Jason he noted a great beam in the
roof. That beam, he said, had been shown him in his dream; it was from
an oak tree in Dodona, the grove of Zeus. A sacred power was in the
beam, and from it the prow of the ship should be fashioned. Jason had
them take the beam from the roof of the palace; it was brought to where
the timbers were, and that day the building of the great ship was begun.

Then all along the waterside came the noise of hammering; in the street
where the metalworkers were came the noise of beating upon metals as
the smiths fashioned out of bronze armor for the heroes and swords and
spears. Every day, under the eyes of Argus the master, the ship that
had in it the beam from Zeus's grove was built higher and wider. And
those who were building the ship often felt going through it tremors as
of a living creature.

When the ship was built and made ready for the voyage a name was given
to it--the Argo it was called. And naming themselves from the ship the
heroes called themselves the Argonauts. All was ready for the voyage,
and now Jason went with his friends to view the ship before she was
brought into the water.

Argus the master was on the ship, seeing to it that the last things
were being done before Argo was launched. Very grave and wise looked
Argus--Argus the builder of the ship. And wonderful to the heroes the
ship looked now that Argus, for their viewing, had set up the mast with
the sails and had even put the oars in their places. Wonderful to the
heroes Argo looked with her long oars and her high sails, with her
timbers painted red and gold and blue, and with a marvelous figure
carved upon her prow. All over the ship Jason's eyes went. He saw a
figure standing by the mast; for a moment he looked on it, and then the
figure became shadowy. But Jason knew that he had looked upon the
goddess whom he had seen in the ways of the forest and had seen
afterward by the rough Anaurus.

Then mast and sails were taken down and the oars were left in the ship,
and the Argo was launched into the water. The heroes went back to the
palace of King Pelias to feast with the king's guests before they took
their places on the ship, setting out on the voyage to far Colchis.

When they came into the palace they saw that another hero had arrived.
His shield was hung in the hall; the heroes all gathered around, amazed
at the size and the beauty of it. The shield shone all over with gold.
In its center was the figure of Fear--of Fear that stared backward with
eyes burning as with fire. The mouth was open and the teeth were shown.
And other figures were wrought around the figure of Fear--Strife and
Pursuit and Flight; Tumult and Panic and Slaughter. The figure of Fate
was there dragging a dead man by the feet; on her shoulders Fate had a
garment that was red with the blood of men.

Around these figures were heads of snakes, heads with black jaws and
glittering eyes, twelve heads such as might affright any man. And on
other parts of the shield were shown the horses of Ares, the grim god
of war. The figure of Ares himself was shown also. He held a spear in
his hand, and he was urging the warriors on.

Around the inner rim of the shield the sea was shown, wrought in white
metal. Dolphins swam in the sea, fishing for little fishes that were
shown there in bronze. Around the rim chariots were racing along with
wheels running close together; there were men fighting and women
watching from high towers. The awful figure of the Darkness of Death
was shown there, too, with mournful eyes and the dust of battles upon
her shoulders. The outer rim of the shield showed the Stream of Ocean,
the stream that encircles the world; swans were soaring above and
swimming on its surface.

All in wonder the heroes gazed on the great shield, telling each other
that only one man in all the world could carry it--Heracles the son of
Zeus. Could it be that Heracles had come amongst them? They went into
the feasting hall and they saw one there who was tall as a pine tree,
with unshorn tresses of hair upon his head. Heracles indeed it was! He
turned to them a smiling face with smiling eyes. Heracles! They all
gathered around the strongest hero in the world, and he took the hand
of each in his mighty hand.



V. THE ARGO

The heroes went the next day through the streets of Iolcus down to
where the ship lay. The ways they went through were crowded; the heroes
were splendid in their appearance, and Jason amongst them shone like a
star.

The people praised him, and one told the other that it would not be
long until they would win back to Iolcus, for this band of heroes was
strong enough, they said, to take King Æetes's city and force him to
give up to them the famous Fleece of Gold. Many of the bright-eyed
youths of Iolcus went with the heroes who had come from the different
parts of Greece.

As they marched past a temple a priestess came forth to speak to Jason;
Iphias was her name. She had a prophecy to utter about the voyage. But
Iphias was very old, and she stammered in her speech to Jason. What she
said was not heard by him. The heroes went on, and ancient Iphias was
left standing there as the old are left by the young.

The heroes went aboard the Argo. They took their seats as at an
assembly. Then Jason faced them and spoke to them all.

"Heroes of the quest," said Jason, "we have come aboard the great ship
that Argus has built, and all that a ship needs is in its place or is
ready to our hands. All that we wait for now is the coming of the
morning's breeze that will set us on our way for far Colchis.

"One thing we have first to do--that is, to choose a leader who will
direct us all, one who will settle disputes amongst ourselves and who
will make treaties between us and the strangers that we come amongst.
We must choose such a leader now."

Jason spoke, and some looked to him and some looked to Heracles. But
Heracles stood up, and, stretching out his hand, said:

"Argonauts! Let no one amongst you offer the leadership to me. I will
not take it. The hero who brought us together and made all things ready
for our going--it is he and no one else who should be our leader in
this voyage."

So Heracles said, and the Argonauts all stood up and raised a cry for
Jason. Then Jason stepped forward, and he took the hand of each
Argonaut in his hand, and he swore that he would lead them with all the
mind and all the courage that he possessed. And he prayed the gods that
it would be given to him to lead them back safely with the Golden
Fleece glittering on the mast of the Argo.

They drew lots for the benches they would sit at; they took the places
that for the length of the voyage they would have on the ship. They
made sacrifice to the gods and they waited for the breeze of the
morning that would help them away from Iolcus.

And while they waited Æson, the father of Jason, sat at his own hearth,
bowed and silent in his grief. Alcimide, his wife, sat near him, but
she was not silent; she lamented to the women of Iolcus who were
gathered around her. "I did not go down to the ship," she said, "for
with my grief I would not be a bird of ill omen for the voyage. By this
hearth my son took farewell of me--the only son I ever bore. From the
doorway I watched him go down the street of the city, and I heard the
people shout as he went amongst them, they glorying in my son's
splendid appearance. Ah, that I might live to see his return and to
hear the shout that will go up when the people look on Jason again! But
I know that my life will not be spared so long; I will not look on my
son when he comes back from the dangers he will run in the quest of the
Golden Fleece."

Then the women of Iolcus asked her to tell them of the Golden Fleece,
and Alcimide told them of it and of the sorrows that were upon the race
of Aeolus.

Cretheus, the father of Æson, and Pelias, was of the race of Aeolus,
and of the race of Aeolus, too, was Athamas, the king who ruled in
Thebes at the same time that Cretheus ruled in Iolcus. And the first
children of Athamas were Phrixus and Helle.

"Ah, Phrixus and ah, Helle," Alcimide lamented, "what griefs you have
brought on the race of Aeolus! And what griefs you yourselves suffered!
The evil that Athamas, your father, did you lives to be a curse to the
line of Aeolus!

"Athamas was wedded first to Nephele, the mother of Phrixus and Helle,
the youth and maiden. But Athamas married again while the mother of
these children was still living, and Ino, the new queen, drove Nephele
and her children out of the king's palace.

"And now was Nephele most unhappy. She had to live as a servant, and
her children were servants to the servants of the palace. They were
clad in rags and had little to eat, and they were beaten often by the
servants who wished to win the favor of the new queen.

"But although they wore rags and had menial tasks to do, Phrixus and
Helle looked the children of a queen. The boy was tall, and in his eyes
there often came the flash of power, and the girl looked as if she
would grow into a lovely maiden. And when Athamas, their father, would
meet them by chance he would sigh, and Queen Ino would know by that
sigh that he had still some love for them in his heart. Afterward she
would have to use all the power she possessed to win the king back from
thinking upon his children.

"And now Queen Ino had children of her own. She knew that the people
reverenced the children of Nephele and cared nothing for her children.
And because she knew this she feared that when Athamas died Phrixus and
Helle, the children of Nephele, would be brought to rule in Thebes.
Then she and her children would be made to change places with them.

"This made Queen Ino think on ways by which she could make Phrixus and
Helle lose their lives. She thought long upon this, and at last a
desperate plan came into her mind.

"When it was winter she went amongst the women of the countryside, and
she gave them jewels and clothes for presents. Then she asked them to
do secretly an unheard-of thing. She asked the women to roast over
their fires the grains that had been left for seed. This the women did.
Then spring came on, and the men sowed in the fields the grain that had
been roasted over the fires. No shoots grew up as the spring went by.
In summer there was no waving greenness in the fields. Autumn came, and
there was no grain for the reaping. Then the men, not knowing what had
happened, went to King Athamas and told him that there would be famine
in the land.

"The king sent to the temple of Artemis to ask how the people might be
saved from the famine. And the guardians of the temple, having taken
gold from Queen Ino, told them that there would be worse and worse
famine and that all the people of Thebes would die of hunger unless the
king was willing to make a great sacrifice.

"When the king asked what sacrifice he should make he was told by the
guardians of the temple that he must sacrifice to the goddess his two
children, Phrixus and Helle. Those who were around the king, to save
themselves from famine after famine, clamored to have the children
sacrificed. Athamas, to save his people, consented to the sacrifice.

"They went toward the king's palace. They found Helle by the bank of
the river washing clothes. They took her and bound her. They found
Phrixus, half naked, digging in a field, and they took him, too, and
bound him. That night they left brother and sister in the same prison.
Helle wept over Phrixus, and Phrixus wept to think that he was not able
to do anything to save his sister.

"The servants of the palace went to Nephele, and they mocked at her,
telling her that her children would be sacrificed on the morrow.
Nephele nearly went wild in her grief. And then, suddenly, there came
into her mind the thought of a creature that might be a helper to her
and to her children.

"This creature was a ram that had wings and a wonderful fleece of gold.
The god of the sea, Poseidon, had sent this wonderful ram to Athamas
and Nephele as a marriage gift. And the ram had since been kept in a
special fold.

"To that fold Nephele went. She spent the night beside the ram praying
for its help. The morning came and the children were taken from their
prison and dressed in white, and wreaths were put upon their heads to
mark them as things for sacrifice. They were led in a procession to the
temple of Artemis. Behind that procession King Athamas walked, his head
bowed in shame.

"But Queen Ino's head was not bowed; rather she carried it high, for
her thought was all upon her triumph. Soon Phrixus and Helle would be
dead, and then, whatever happened, her own children would reign after
Athamas in Thebes.

"Phrixus and Helle, thinking they were taking their last look at the
sun, went on. And even then Nephele, holding the horns of the golden
ram, was making her last prayer. The sun rose and as it did the ram
spread out its great wings and flew through the air. It flew to the
temple of Artemis. Down beside the altar came the golden ram, and it
stood with its horns threatening those who came. All stopped in
surprise. Still the ram stood with threatening head and great golden
wings spread out. Then Phrixus ran from those who were holding him and
laid his hands upon the ram. He called to Helle and she, too, came to
the golden creature. Phrixus mounted on the ram and he pulled Helle up
beside him. Then the golden ram flew upward. Up, up, it went, and with
the children upon its back it became like a star in the day-lit sky.

"Then Queen Ino, seeing the children saved by the golden ram, shrieked
and fled away from that place. Athamas ran after her. As she ran and as
he followed hatred for her grew up within him. Ino ran on and on until
she came to the cliffs that rose over the sea. Fearing Athamas who came
behind her she plunged down. But as she fell she was changed by
Poseidon, the god of the sea. She became a seagull. Athamas, who
followed her, was changed also; he became the sea eagle that, with beak
and talons ever ready to strike, flies above the sea.

"And the golden ram with wings outspread flew on and on. Over the sea
it flew while the wind whistled around the children. On and on they
went, and the children saw only the blue sea beneath them. Then poor
Helle, looking downward, grew dizzy. She fell off the golden ram before
her brother could take hold of her. Down she fell, and still the ram
flew on and on. She was drowned in that sea. The people afterward named
it in memory of her, calling it 'Hellespont'--'Helle's Sea.'

"On and on the ram flew. Over a wild and barren country it flew and
toward a river. Upon that river a white city was built. Down the ram
flew, and alighting on the ground, stood before the gate of that city.
It was the city of Aea, in the land of Colchis.

"The king was in the street of the city, and he joined with the crowd
that gathered around the strange golden creature that had a youth upon
its back. The ram folded its wings and then the youth stood beside it.
He spoke to the people, and then the king--Æetes was his name--spoke to
him, asking him from what place he had come, and what was the strange
creature upon whose back he had flown.

"To the king and to the people Phrixus told his story, weeping to tell
of Helle and her fall. Then King Æetes brought him into the city, and
he gave him a place in the palace, and for the golden ram he had a
special fold made.

"Soon after the ram died, and then King Æetes took its golden fleece
and hung it upon an oak tree that was in a place dedicated to Ares, the
god of war. Phrixus wed one of the daughters of the king, and men say
that afterward he went back to Thebes, his own land.

"And as for the Golden Fleece it became the greatest of King Æetes's
treasures. Well indeed does he guard it, and not with armed men only,
but with magic powers. Very strong and very cunning is King Æetes, and
a terrible task awaits those who would take away from him that Fleece
of Gold."

So Alcimide spoke, sorrowfully telling to the women the story of the
Golden Fleece that her son Jason was going in quest of. So she spoke,
and the night waned, and the morning of the sailing of the Argo came on.

And when the Argonauts beheld the dawn upon the high peaks of Pelion
they arose and poured out wine in offering to Zeus, the highest of the
gods. Then Argo herself gave forth a strange cry, for the beam from
Dodona that had been formed into her prow had endued her with life. She
uttered a strange cry, and as she did the heroes took their places at
the benches, one after the other, as had been arranged by lot, and
Tiphys, the helmsman, went to the steering place. To the sound of
Orpheus's lyre they smote with oars the rushing sea water, and the
surge broke over the oar blades. The sails were let out and the breeze
came into them, piping shrilly, and the fishes came darting through the
green sea, great and small, and followed them, gamboling along the
watery paths. And Chiron, the king-centaur, came down from the Mountain
Pelion, and standing with his feet in the foam cried out, "Good speed,
O Argonauts, good speed, and a sorrowless return."



THE BEGINNING OF THINGS

Orpheus sang to his lyre, Orpheus the minstrel, who knew the ways and
the stories of the gods; out in the open sea on the first morning of
the voyage Orpheus sang to them of the beginning of things.

He sang how at first Earth and Heaven and Sea were all mixed and
mingled together. There was neither Light nor Darkness then, but only a
Dimness. This was Chaos. And from Chaos came forth Night and Erebus.
From Night was born Aether, the Upper Air, and from Night and Erebus
wedded there was born Day.

And out of Chaos came Earth, and out of Earth came the starry Heaven.
And from Heaven and Earth wedded there were born the Titan gods and
goddesses--Oceanus, Coeus, Crius, Hyperion, Iapetus; Theia, Rhea,
Themis, Mnemosyne, gold-crowned Phoebe, and lovely Tethys. And then
Heaven and Earth had for their child Cronos, the most cunning of all.

Cronos wedded Rhea, and from Cronos and Rhea were born the gods who
were different from the Titan gods.

But Heaven and Earth had other children--Cottus, Briareus, and Gyes.
These were giants, each with fifty heads and a hundred arms. And Heaven
grew fearful when he looked on these giant children, and he hid them
away in the deep places of the Earth.

Cronos hated Heaven, his father. He drove Heaven, his father, and
Earth, his mother, far apart. And far apart they stay, for they have
never been able to come near each other since. And Cronos married to
Rhea had for children Hestia, Demeter, Hera, Aidoneus, and Poseidon,
and these all belonged to the company of the deathless gods. Cronos was
fearful that one of his sons would treat him as he had treated Heaven,
his father. So when another child was born to him and his wife Rhea he
commanded that the child be given to him so that he might swallow him.
But Rhea wrapped a great stone in swaddling clothes and gave the stone
to Cronos. And Cronos swallowed the stone, thinking to swallow his
latest-born child.

That child was Zeus. Earth took Zeus and hid him in a deep cave and
those who minded and nursed the child beat upon drums so that his cries
might not be heard. His nurse was Adrastia; when he was able to play
she gave him a ball to play with. All of gold was the ball, with a
dark-blue spiral around it. When the boy Zeus would play with this ball
it would make a track across the sky, flaming like a star.

Hyperion the Titan god wed Theia the Titan goddess, and their children
were Hellos, the bright Sun, and Selene, the clear Moon. And Coeus wed
Phoebe, and their children were Leto, who is kind to gods and men, and
Asteria of happy name, and Hecate, whom Zeus honored above all. Now the
gods who were the children of Cronos and Rhea went up unto the Mountain
Olympus, and there they built their shining palaces. But the Titan gods
who were born of Heaven and Earth went up to the Mountain Othrys, and
there they had their thrones.

Between the Olympians and the Titan gods of Othrys a war began. Neither
side might prevail against the other. But now Zeus, grown up to be a
youth, thought of how he might help the Olympians to overthrow the
Titan gods.

He went down into the deep parts of the Earth where the giants Cottus,
Briareus, and Gyes had been hidden by their father. Cronos had bound
them, weighing them down with chains. But now Zeus loosed them and the
hundred-armed giants in their gratitude gave him the lightning and
showed him how to use the thunderbolt.

Zeus would have the giants fight against the Titan gods. But although
they had mighty strength Cottus, Briareus, and Gyes had no fire of
courage in their hearts. Zeus thought of a way to give them this
courage; he brought the food and drink of the gods to them, ambrosia
and nectar, and when they had eaten and drunk their spirits grew within
the giants, and they were ready to make war upon the Titan gods.

"Sons of Earth and Heaven," said Zeus to the hundred-armed giants, "a
long time now have the Dwellers on Olympus been striving with the Titan
gods. Do you lend your unconquerable might to the gods and help them to
overthrow the Titans."

Cottus, the eldest of the giants, answered, "Divine One, through your
devising we are come back again from the murky gloom of the mid Earth
and we have escaped from the hard bonds that Cronos laid upon us. Our
minds are fixed to aid you in the war against the Titan gods."

So the hundred-armed giants said, and thereupon Zeus went and he
gathered around him all who were born of Cronos and Rhea. Cronos
himself hid from Zeus. Then the giants, with their fifty heads growing
from their shoulders and their hundred hands, went forth against the
Titan gods. The boundless sea rang terribly and the earth crashed
loudly; wide Heaven was shaken and groaned, and high Olympus reeled
from its foundation. Holding huge rocks in their hands the giants
attacked the Titan gods.

Then Zeus entered the war. He hurled the lightning; the bolts flew
thick and fast from his strong hand, with thunder and lightning and
flame. The earth crashed around in burning, the forests crackled with
fire, the ocean seethed. And hot flames wrapped the earth-born Titans
all around. Three hundred rocks, one upon another, did Cottus,
Briareus, and Gyes hurl upon the Titans. And when their ranks were
broken the giants seized upon them and held them for Zeus.

But some of the Titan gods, seeing that the strife for them was vain,
went over to the side of Zeus. These Zeus became friendly with. But the
other Titans he bound in chains and he hurled them down to Tartarus.

As far as Earth is from Heaven so is Tartarus from Earth. A brazen
anvil falling down from Heaven to Earth nine days and nine nights would
reach the earth upon the tenth day. And again, a brazen anvil falling
from Earth nine nights and nine days would reach Tartarus upon the
tenth night. Around Tartarus runs a fence of bronze and Night spreads
in a triple line all about it, as a necklace circles the neck. There
Zeus imprisoned the Titan gods who had fought against him; they are
hidden in the misty gloom, in a dank place, at the ends of the Earth.
And they may not go out, for Poseidon fixed gates of bronze upon their
prison, and a wall runs all round it. There Cottus, Briareus, and Gyes
stay, guarding them.

And there, too, is the home of Night. Night and Day meet each other at
that place, as they pass a threshold of bronze. They draw near and they
greet one another, but the house never holds them both together, for
while one is about to go down into the house, the other is leaving
through the door. One holds Light in her hand and the other holds in
her arms Sleep.

There the children of dark Night have their dwellings--Sleep, and
Death, his brother. The sun never shines upon these two. Sleep may roam
over the wide earth, and come upon the sea, and he is kindly to men.
But Death is not kindly, and whoever he seizes upon, him he holds fast.

There, too, stands the hall of the lord of the Underworld, Aidoneus,
the brother of Zeus. Zeus gave him the Underworld to be his dominion
when he shared amongst the Olympians the world that Cronos had ruled
over. A fearful hound guards the hall of Aidoneus: Cerberus he is
called; he has three heads. On those who go within that hall Cerberus
fawns, but on those who would come out of it he springs and would
devour them.

Not all the Titans did Zeus send down to Tartarus. Those of them who
had wisdom joined him, and by their wisdom Zeus was able to overcome
Cronos. Then Cronos went to live with the friendly Titan gods, while
Zeus reigned over Olympus, becoming the ruler of gods and men.

So Orpheus sang, Orpheus who knew the ways and the histories of the
gods.



VI. POLYDEUCES' VICTORY AND HERACLES' LOSS

All the places that the Argonauts came nigh to and went past need not
be told--Meliboea, where they escaped a stormy beach; Homole, from
where they were able to look on Ossa and holy Olympus; Lemnos, the
island that they were to return to; the unnamed country where the
Earth-born Men abide, each having six arms, two growing from his
shoulders, and four fitting close to his terrible sides; and then the
Mountain of the Bears, where they climbed, to make sacrifice there to
Rhea, the mighty mother of the gods.

Afterward, for a whole day, no wind blew and the sail of the Argo hung
slack. But the heroes swore to each other that they would make their
ship go as swiftly as if the storm-footed steeds of Poseidon were
racing to overtake her. Mightily they labored at the oars, and no one
would be first to leave his rower's bench.

And then, just as the breeze of the evening came up, and just as the
rest of the heroes were leaning back, spent with their labor, the oar
that Heracles still pulled at broke, and half of it was carried away by
the waves. Heracles sat there in ill humor, for he did not know what to
do with his unlaboring hands.

All through the night they went on with a good breeze filling their
sails, and next day they came to the mouth of the River Cius. There
they landed so that Heracles might get himself an oar. No sooner did
they set their feet upon the shore than the hero went off into the
forest, to pull up a tree that he might shape into an oar.

Where they had landed was near to the country of the Bebrycians, a rude
people whose king was named Amycus. Now while Heracles was away from
them this king came with his followers, huge, rude men, all armed with
clubs, down to where the Argonauts were lighting their fires on the
beach.

He did not greet them courteously, asking them what manner of men they
were and whither they were bound, nor did he offer them hospitality.
Instead, he shouted at them insolently:

"Listen to something that you rovers had better know. I am Amycus, and
any stranger that comes to this land has to get into a boxing bout with
me. That's the law that I have laid down. Unless you have one amongst
you who can stand up to me you won't be let go back to your ship. If
you don't heed my law, look out, for something's going to happen to
you."

So he shouted, that insolent king, and his followers raised their clubs
and growled approval of what their master said. But the Argonauts were
not dismayed at the words of Amycus. One of them stepped toward the
Bebrycians. He was Polydeuces, good at boxing.

"Offer us no violence, king," said Polydeuces. "We are ready to obey
the law that you have laid down. Willingly do I take up your challenge,
and I will box a bout with you."

The Argonauts cheered when they saw Polydeuces, the good boxer, step
forward, and when they heard what he had to say. Amycus turned and
shouted to his followers, and one of them brought up two pairs of
boxing gauntlets--of rough cowhide they were. The Argonauts feared that
Polydeuces' hands might have been made numb with pulling at the oar,
and some of them went to him, and took his hands and rubbed them to
make them supple; others took from off his shoulders his beautifully
colored mantle.

Amycus straightway put on his gauntlets and threw off his mantle; he
stood there amongst his followers with his great arms crossed,
glowering at the Argonauts as a wild beast might glower. And when the
two faced each other Amycus seemed like one of the Earthborn Men, dark
and hugely shaped, while Helen's brother stood there light and
beautiful. Polydeuces was like that star whose beams are lovely at
evening-tide.

Like the wave that breaks over a ship and gives the sailors no respite
Amycus came on at Polydeuces. He pushed in upon him, thinking to bear
him down and overwhelm him. But as the skillful steersman keeps the
ship from being overwhelmed by the monstrous wave, so Polydeuces, all
skill and lightness, baffled the rushes of Amycus. At last Amycus,
standing on the tips of his toes and rising high above him, tried to
bring down his great fist upon the head of Polydeuces. The hero swung
aside and took the blow on his shoulder. Then he struck his blow. It
was a strong one, and under it the king of the Bebrycians staggered and
fell down. "You see," said Polydeuces, "that we keep your law."

The Argonauts shouted, but the rude Bebrycians raised their clubs to
rush upon them. Then would the heroes have been hard pressed, and
forced, perhaps, to get back to the Argo. But suddenly Heracles
appeared amongst them, coming up from the forest.

He carried a pine tree in his hands with all its branches still upon
it, and seeing this mighty-statured man appear with the great tree in
his hands, the Bebrycians hurried off, carrying their fallen king with
them. Then the Argonauts gathered around Polydeuces, saluted him as
their champion, and put a crown of victory upon his head. Heracles,
meanwhile, lopped off the branches of the pine tree and began to
fashion it into an oar.

The fires were lighted upon the shore, and the thoughts of all were
turned to supper. Then young Hylas, who used to sit by Heracles and
keep bright the hero's arms and armor, took a bronze vessel and went to
fetch water.

Never was there a boy so beautiful as young Hylas. He had golden curls
that tumbled over his brow. He had deep blue eyes and a face that
smiled at every glance that was given him, at every word that was said
to him. Now as he walked through the flowering grasses, with his knees
bare, and with the bright vessel swinging in his hand, he looked most
lovely. Heracles had brought the boy with him from the country of the
Dryopians; he would have him sit beside him on the bench of the Argo,
and the ill humors that often came upon him would go at the words and
the smile of Hylas.

Now the spring that Hylas was going toward was called Pegae, and it was
haunted by the nymphs. They were dancing around it when they heard
Hylas singing. They stole softly off to watch him. Hidden behind trees
the nymphs saw the boy come near, and they felt such love for him that
they thought they could never let him go from their sight.

They stole back to their spring, and they sank down below its clear
surface. Then came Hylas singing a song that he had heard from his
mother. He bent down to the spring, and the brimming water flowed into
the sounding bronze of the pitcher. Then hands came out of the water.
One of the nymphs caught Hylas by the elbow; another put her arms
around his neck, another took the hand that held the vessel of bronze.
The pitcher sank down to the depths of the spring. The hands of the
nymphs clasped Hylas tighter, tighter; the water bubbled around him as
they drew him down. Down, down they drew him, and into the cold and
glimmering cave where they live.

There Hylas stayed. But although the nymphs kissed him and sang to him,
and showed him lovely things, Hylas was not content to be there.

Where the Argonauts were the fires burned, the moon arose, and still
Hylas did not return. Then they began to fear lest a wild beast had
destroyed the boy. One went to Heracles and told him that young Hylas
had not come back, and that they were fearful for him. Heracles flung
down the pine tree that he was fashioning into an oar, and he dashed
along the way that Hylas had gone as if a gadfly were stinging him.
"Hylas, Hylas," he cried. But Hylas, in the cold and glimmering cave
that the nymphs had drawn him into, did not hear the call of his friend
Heracles.

All the Argonauts went searching, calling as they went through the
island, "Hylas, Hylas, Hylas!" But only their own calls came back to
them. The morning star came up, and Tiphys, the steersman, called to
them from the Argo. And when they came to the ship Tiphys told them
that they would have to go aboard and make ready to sail from that
place.

They called to Heracles, and Heracles at last came down to the ship.
They spoke to him, saying that they would have to sail away. Heracles
would not go on board. "I will not leave this island," he said, "until
I find young Hylas or learn what has happened to him."

Then Jason arose to give the command to depart. But before the words
were said Telamon stood up and faced him. "Jason," he said angrily,
"you do not bid Heracles come on board, and you would have the Argo
leave without him. You would leave Heracles here so that he may not be
with us on the quest where his glory might overshadow your glory,
Jason."

Jason said no word, but he sat back on his bench with head bowed. And
then, even as Telamon said these angry words, a strange figure rose up
out of the waves of the sea.

It was the figure of a man, wrinkled and old, with seaweed in his beard
and his hair. There was a majesty about him, and the Argonauts all knew
that this was one of the immortals--he was Nereus, the ancient one of
the sea.

"To Heracles, and to you, the rest of the Argonauts, I have a thing to
say," said the ancient one, Nereus. "Know, first, that Hylas has been
taken by the nymphs who love him and who think to win his love, and
that he will stay forever with them in their cold and glimmering cave.
For Hylas seek no more. And to you, Heracles, I will say this: Go
aboard the Argo again; the ship will take you to where a great labor
awaits you, and which, in accomplishing, you will work out the will of
Zeus. You will know what this labor is when a spirit seizes on you." So
the ancient one of the sea said, and he sank back beneath the waves.

Heracles went aboard the Argo once more, and he took his place on the
bench, the new oar in his hand. Sad he was to think that young Hylas
who used to sit at his knee would never be there again. The breeze
filled the sail, the Argonauts pulled at the oars, and in sadness they
watched the island where young Hylas had been lost to them recede from
their view.



VII. KING PHINEUS

Said Tiphys, the steersman: "If we could enter the Sea of Pontus, we
could make our way across that sea to Colchis in a short time. But the
passage into the Sea of Pontus is most perilous, and few mortals dare
even to make approach to it."

Said Jason, the chieftain of the host: "The dangers of the passage,
Tiphys, we have spoken of, and it may be that we shall have to carry
Argo overland to the Sea of Pontus. But You, Tiphys, have spoken of a
wise king who is hereabouts, and who might help us to make the
dangerous passage. Speak again to us, and tell us what the dangers of
the passage are, and who the king is who may be able to help us to make
these dangers less."

Then said Tiphys, the steersman of the Argo: "No ship sailed by mortals
has as yet gone through the passage that brings this sea into the Sea
of Pontus. In the way are the rocks that mariners call The Clashers.
These rocks are not fixed as rocks should be, but they rush one against
the other, dashing up the sea, and crushing whatever may be between.
Yea, if Argo were of iron, and if she were between these rocks when
they met, she would be crushed to bits. I have sailed as far as that
passage, but seeing The Clashers strike together I turned back my ship,
and journeyed as far as the Sea of Pontus overland.

"But I have been told of one who knows how a ship may be taken through
the passage that The Clashers make so perilous. He who knows is a king
hereabouts, Phineus, who has made himself as wise as the gods. To no
one has Phineus told how the passage may be made, but knowing what high
favor has been shown to us, the Argonauts, it may be that he will tell
us."

So Tiphys said, and Jason commanded him to steer the Argo toward the
city where ruled Phineus, the wise king.

To Salmydessus, then, where Phineus ruled, Tiphys steered the Argo.
They left Heracles with Tiphys aboard to guard the ship, and, with the
rest of the heroes, Jason went through the streets of the city. They
met many men, but when they asked any of them how they might come to
the palace of King Phineus the men turned fearfully away.

They found their way to the king's palace. Jason spoke to the servants
and bade them tell the king of their coming. The servants, too, seemed
fearful, and as Jason and his comrades were wondering what there was
about him that made men fearful at his name, Phineus, the king, came
amongst them.

Were it not that he had a purple border to his robe no one would have
known him for the king, so miserable did this man seem. He crept along,
touching the walls, for the eyes in his head were blind and withered.
His body was shrunken, and when he stood before them leaning on his
staff he was like to a lifeless thing. He turned his blinded eyes upon
them, looking from one to the other as if he were searching for a face.

Then his sightless eyes rested upon Zetes and Calais, the sons of
Boreas, the North Wind. A change came into his face as it turned upon
them. One would think that he saw the wonder that these two were
endowed with--the wings that grew upon their ankles. It was awhile
before he turned his face from them; then he spoke to Jason and said:

"You have come to have counsel with one who has the wisdom of the gods.
Others before you have come for such counsel, but seeing the misery
that is visible upon me they went without asking for counsel: I would
strive to hold you here for a while. Stay, and have sight of the misery
the gods visit upon those who would be as wise as they. And when you
have seen the thing that is wont to befall me, it may be that help will
come from you for me."

Then Phineus, the blind king, left them, and after a while the heroes
were brought into a great hall, and they were invited to rest
themselves there while a banquet was being prepared for them. The hall
was richly adorned, but it looked to the heroes as if it had known
strange happenings; rich hangings were strewn upon the ground, an ivory
chair was overturned, and the dais where the king sat had stains upon
it. The servants who went through the hall making ready the banquet
were white-faced and fearful.

The feast was laid on a great table, and the heroes were invited to sit
down to it. The king did not come into the hall before they sat down,
but a table with food was set before the dais. When the heroes had
feasted, the king came into the hall. He sat at the table, blind,
white-faced, and shrunken, and the Argonauts all turned their faces to
him.

Said Phineus, the blind king: "You see, O heroes, how much my wisdom
avails me. You see me blind and shrunken, who tried to make myself in
wisdom equal to the gods. And yet you have not seen all. Watch now and
see what feasts Phineus, the wise king, has to delight him."

He made a sign, and the white-faced and trembling servants brought food
and set it upon the table that was before him. The king bent forward as
if to eat, and they saw that his face was covered with the damp of
fear. He took food from the dish and raised it to his mouth. As he did,
the doors of the hall were flung open as if by a storm. Strange shapes
flew into the hall and set themselves beside the king. And when the
Argonauts looked upon them they saw that these were terrible and
unsightly shapes.

They were things that had the wings and claws of birds and the heads of
women. Black hair and gray feathers were mixed upon them; they had red
eyes, and streaks of blood were upon their breasts and wings. And as
the king raised the food to his mouth they flew at him and buffeted his
head with their wings, and snatched the food from his hands. Then they
devoured or scattered what was upon the table, and all the time they
screamed and laughed and mocked.

"Ah, now ye see," Phineus panted, "what it is to have wisdom equal to
the wisdom of the gods. Now ye all see my misery. Never do I strive to
put food to my lips but these foul things, the Harpies, the Snatchers,
swoop down and scatter or devour what I would eat. Crumbs they leave me
that my life may not altogether go from me, but these crumbs they make
foul to my taste and my smell."

And one of the Harpies perched herself on the back of the king's throne
and looked upon the heroes with red eyes. "Hah," she screamed, "you
bring armed men into your feasting hall, thinking to scare us away.
Never, Phineus, can you scare us from you! Always you will have us, the
Snatchers, beside you when you would still your ache of hunger. What
can these men do against us who are winged and who can travel through
the ways of the air?"

So said the unsightly Harpy, and the heroes drew together, made fearful
by these awful shapes. All drew back except Zetes and Calais, the sons
of the North Wind. They laid their hands upon their swords. The wings
on their shoulders spread out and the wings at their heels trembled.
Phineus, the king, leaned forward and panted: "By the wisdom I have I
know that there are two amongst you who can save me. O make haste to
help me, ye who can help me, and I will give the counsel that you
Argonauts have come to me for, and besides I will load down your ship
with treasure and costly stuffs. Oh, make haste, ye who can help me!"

Hearing the king speak like this, the Harpies gathered together and
gnashed with their teeth, and chattered to one another. Then, seeing
Zetes and Calais with their hands upon their swords, they rose up on
their wings and flew through the wide doors of the hall. The king cried
out to Zetes and Calais. But the sons of the North Wind had already
risen with their wings, and they were after the Harpies, their bright
swords in their hands.

On flew the Harpies, screeching and gnashing their teeth in anger and
dismay, for now they felt that they might be driven from Salmydessus,
where they had had such royal feasts. They rose high in the air and
flew out toward the sea. But high as the Harpies rose, the sons of the
North Wind rose higher. The Harpies cried pitiful cries as they flew
on, but Zetes and Calais felt no pity for them, for they knew that
these dread Snatchers, with the stains of blood upon their breasts and
wings, had shown pity neither to Phineus nor to any other.

On they flew until they came to the island that is called the Floating
Island. There the Harpies sank down with wearied wings. Zetes and
Calais were upon them now, and they would have cut them to pieces with
their bright swords, if the messenger of Zeus, Iris, with the golden
wings, had not come between.

"Forbear to slay the Harpies, sons of Boreas," cried Iris warningly,
"forbear to slay the Harpies that are the hounds of Zeus. Let them
cower here and hide themselves, and I, who come from Zeus, will swear
the oath that the gods most dread, that they will never again come to
Salmydessus to trouble Phineus, the king."

The heroes yielded to the words of Iris. She took the oath that the
gods most dread--the oath by the Water of Styx--that never again would
the Harpies show themselves to Phineus. Then Zetes and Calais turned
back toward the city of Salmydessus. The island that they drove the
Harpies to had been called the Floating Island, but thereafter it was
called the Island of Turning. It was evening when they turned back, and
all night long the Argonauts and King Phineus sat in the hall of the
palace and awaited the return of Zetes and Calais, the sons of the
North Wind.



VIII. KING PHINEUS'S COUNSEL; THE LANDING IN LEMNOS

They came into King Phineus's hall, their bright swords in their hands.
The Argonauts crowded around them and King Phineus raised his head and
stretched out his thin hands to them. And Zetes and Calais told their
comrades and told the king how they had driven the Harpies down to the
Floating Island, and how Iris, the messenger of Zeus, had sworn the
great oath that was by the Water of Styx that never again would the
Snatchers show themselves in the palace.

Then a great golden cup brimming with wine was brought to the king. He
stood holding it in his trembling hands, fearful even then that the
Harpies would tear the cup out of his hands. He drank--long and deeply
he drank--and the dread shapes of the Snatchers did not appear. Down
amongst the heroes he came and he took into his the hands of Zetes and
Calais, the sons of the North Wind.

"O heroes greater than any kings," he said, "ye have delivered me from
the terrible curse that the gods had sent upon me. I thank ye, and I
thank ye all, heroes of the quest. And the thanks of Phineus will much
avail you all."

Clasping the hands of Zetes and Calais he led the heroes through hall
after hall of his palace and down into his treasure chamber. There he
bestowed upon the banishers of the Harpies crowns and arm rings of gold
and richly-colored garments and brazen chests in which to store the
treasure that he gave. And to Jason he gave an ivory-hilted and
golden-cased sword, and on each of the voyagers he bestowed a rich
gift, not forgetting the heroes who had remained on the Argo, Heracles
and Tiphys.

They went back to the great hall, and a feast was spread for the king
and for the Argonauts. They ate from rich dishes and they drank from
flowing wine cups. Phineus ate and drank as the heroes did, and no
dread shapes came before him to snatch from him nor to buffet him. But
as Jason looked upon the man who had striven to equal the gods in
wisdom, and noted his blinded eyes and shrunken face, he resolved never
to harbor in his heart such presumption as Phineus had harbored.

When the feast was finished the king spoke to Jason, telling him how
the Argo might be guided through the Symplegades, the dread passage
into the Sea of Pontus. He told them to bring their ship near to the
Clashing Rocks. And one who had the keenest sight amongst them was to
stand at the prow of the ship holding a pigeon in his hands. As the
rocks came together he was to loose the pigeon. If it found a space to
fly through they would know that the Argo could make the passage, and
they were to steer straight toward where the pigeon had flown. But if
it fluttered down to the sea, or flew back to them, or became lost in
the clouds of spray, they were to know that the Argo might not make
that passage. Then the heroes would have to take their ship overland to
where they might reach the Sea of Pontus.

That day they bade farewell to Phineus, and with the treasures he had
bestowed upon them they went down to the Argo. To Heracles and Tiphys
they gave the presents that the king had sent them. In the morning they
drew the Argo out of the harbor of Salmydessus, and set sail again.

But not until long afterward did they come to the Symplegades, the
passage that was to be their great trial. For they landed first in a
country that was full of woods, where they were welcomed by a king who
had heard of the voyagers and of their quest. There they stayed and
hunted for many days in the woods. And there a great loss befell the
Argonauts, for Tiphys, as he went through the woods, was bitten by a
snake and died. He who had braved so many seas and so many storms lost
his life away from the ship. The Argonauts made a tomb for him on the
shore of that land--a great pile of stones, in which they fixed upright
his steering oar. Then they set sail again, and Nauplius was made the
steersman of the ship.

The course was not so clear to Nauplius as it had been to Tiphys. The
steersman did not find his bearings, and for many days and nights the
Argo was driven on a backward course. They came to an island that they
knew to be that Island of Lemnos that they had passed on the first days
of the voyage, and they resolved to rest there for a while, and then to
press on for the passage into the Sea of Pontus.

They brought the Argo near the shore. They blew trumpets and set the
loudest-voiced of the heroes to call out to those upon the island. But
no answer came to them, and all day the Argo lay close to the island.

There were hidden people watching them, people with bows in their hands
and arrows laid along the bowstrings. And the people who thus
threatened the unknowing Argonauts were women and young girls.

There were no men upon the Island of Lemnos. Years before a curse had
fallen upon the people of that island, putting strife between the men
and the women. And the women had mastered the men and had driven them
away from Lemnos. Since then some of the women had grown old, and the
girls who were children when their fathers and brothers had been
banished were now of an age with Atalanta, the maiden who went with the
Argonauts.

They chased the wild beasts of the island, and they tilled the fields,
and they kept in good repair the houses that were built before the
banishing of the men. The older women served those who were younger,
and they had a queen, a girl whose name was Hypsipyle.

The women who watched with bows in their hands would have shot their
arrows at the Argonauts if Hypsipyle's nurse, Polyxo, had not stayed
them. She forbade them to shoot at the strangers until she had brought
to them the queen's commands.

She hastened to the palace and she found the young queen weaving at a
loom. She told her about the ship and the strangers on board the ship,
and she asked the queen what word she should bring to the guardian
maidens.

"Before you give a command, Hypsipyle," said Polyxo, the nurse,
"consider these words of mine. We, the elder women, are becoming
ancient now; in a few years we will not be able to serve you, the
younger women, and in a few years more we will have gone into the grave
and our places will know us no more. And you, the younger women, will
be becoming strengthless, and no more will be you able to hunt in the
woods nor to till the fields, and a hard old age will be before you.

"The ship that is beside our shore may have come at a good time. Those
on board are goodly heroes. Let them land in Lemnos, and stay if they
will. Let them wed with the younger women so that there may be husbands
and wives, helpers and helpmeets, again in Lemnos."

Hypsipyle, the queen, let the shuttle fall from her hands and stayed
for a while looking full into Polyxo's face. Had her nurse heard her
say something like this out of her dreams, she wondered? She bade the
nurse tell the guardian maidens to let the heroes land in safety, and
that she herself would put the crown of King Thoas, her father, upon
her head, and go down to the shore to welcome them.

And now the Argonauts saw people along the shore and they caught sight
of women's dresses. The loudest-voiced amongst them shouted again, and
they heard an answer given in a woman's voice. They drew up the Argo
upon the shore, and they set foot upon the land of Lemnos.

Jason stepped forth at the head of his comrades, and he was met by
Hypsipyle, her father's crown upon her head, at the head of her
maidens. They greeted each other, and Hypsipyle bade the heroes come
with them to their town that was called Myrine and to the palace that
was there.

Wonderingly the Argonauts went, looking on women's forms and faces and
seeing no men. They came to the palace and went within. Hypsipyle
mounted the stone throne that was King Thoas's and the four maidens who
were her guards stood each side of her. She spoke to the heroes in
greeting and bade them stay in peace for as long as they would. She
told them of the curse that had fallen upon the people of Lemnos, and
of how the menfolk had been banished. Jason, then, told the queen what
voyage he and his companions were upon and what quest they were making.
Then in friendship the Argonauts and the women of Lemnos stayed
together--all the Argonauts except Heracles, and he, grieving still for
Hylas, stayed aboard the Argo.



IX. THE LEMNIAN MAIDENS

And now the Argonauts were no longer on a ship that was being dashed on
by the sea and beaten upon by the winds. They had houses to live in;
they had honey-tasting things to eat, and when they went through the
island each man might have with him one of the maidens of Lemnos. It
was a change that was welcome to the wearied voyagers.

They helped the women in the work of the fields; they hunted the beasts
with them, and over and over again they were surprised at how
skillfully the women had ordered all affairs. Everything in Lemnos was
strange to the Argonauts, and they stayed day after day, thinking each
day a fresh adventure.

Sometimes they would leave the fields and the chase, and this hero or
that hero, with her who was his friend amongst the Lemnian maidens,
would go far into that strange land and look upon lakes that were all
covered with golden and silver water lilies, or would gather the blue
flowers from creepers that grew around dark trees, or would hide
themselves so that they might listen to the quick-moving birds that
sang in the thickets. Perhaps on their way homeward they would see the
Argo in the harbor, and they would think of Heracles who was aboard,
and they would call to him. But the ship and the voyage they had been
on now seemed far away to them, and the Quest of the Golden Fleece
seemed to them a story they had heard and that they had thought of, but
that they could never think on again with all that fervor.

When Jason looked on Hypsipyle he saw one who seemed to him to be only
childlike in size. Greatly was he amazed at the words that poured forth
from her as she stood at the stone throne of King Thoas--he was amazed
as one is amazed at the rush of rich notes that comes from the throat
of a little bird; all that she said was made lightning-like by her
eyes--her eyes that were not clear and quiet like the eyes of the
maidens he had seen in Iolcus, but that were dark and burning. Her
mouth was heavy and this heavy mouth gave a shadow to her face that,
but for it, was all bright and lovely.

Hypsipyle spoke two languages--one, the language of the mothers of the
women of Lemnos, which was rough and harsh, a speech to be flung out to
slaves, and the other the language of Greece, which their fathers had
spoken, and which Hypsipyle spoke in a way that made it sound like
strange music. She spoke and walked and did all things in a queenlike
way, and Jason could see that, for all her youth and childlike size,
Hypsipyle was one who was a ruler.

From the moment she took his hand it seemed that she could not bear to
be away from him. Where he walked, she walked too; where he sat she sat
before him, looking at him with her great eyes while she laughed or
sang.

Like the perfume of strange flowers, like the savor of strange fruit
was Hypsipyle to Jason. Hours and hours he would spend sitting beside
her or watching her while she arrayed herself in white or in brightly
colored garments. Not to the chase and not into the fields did Jason
go, nor did he ever go with the others into the Lemnian land; all day
he sat in the palace with her, watching her, or listening to her
singing, or to the long, fierce speeches that she used to make to her
nurse or to the four maidens who attended her.

In the evening they would gather in the hall of the palace, the
Argonauts and the Lemnian maidens who were their comrades. There were
dances, and always Jason and Hypsipyle danced together. All the Lemnian
maidens sang beautifully, but none of them had any stories to tell.

And when the Argonauts would have stories told, the Lemnian maidens
would forbid any tale that was about a god or a hero; only stories that
were about the goddesses or about some maiden would they let be told.

Orpheus, who knew the histories of the gods, would have told them many
stories, but the only story of his that they would come from the dance
to listen to was a story of the goddesses, of Demeter and her daughter
Persephone.



Demeter And Persephone

I

Once when Demeter was going through the world, giving men grain to be
sown in their fields, she heard a cry that came to her from across high
mountains and that mounted up to her from the sea. Demeter's heart
shook when she heard that cry, for she knew that it came to her from
her daughter, from her only child, young Persephone.

She stayed not to bless the fields in which the grain was being sown,
but she hurried, hurried away, to Sicily and to the fields of Enna,
where she had left Persephone. All Enna she searched, and all Sicily,
but she found no trace of Persephone, nor of the maidens whom
Persephone had been playing with. From all whom she met she begged for
tidings, but although some had seen maidens gathering flowers and
playing together, no one could tell Demeter why her child had cried out
nor where she had since gone to.

There were some who could have told her. One was Cyane, a water nymph.
But Cyane, before Demeter came to her, had been changed into a spring
of water. And now, not being able to speak and tell Demeter where her
child had gone to and who had carried her away, she showed in the water
the girdle of Persephone that she had caught in her hands. And Demeter,
finding the girdle of her child in the spring, knew that she had been
carried off by violence.  She lighted a torch at Etna's burning
mountain, and for nine days and nine nights she went searching for her
through the darkened places of the earth.

Then, upon a high and a dark hill, the Goddess Demeter came face to
face with Hecate, the Moon. Hecate, too, had heard the cry of
Persephone; she had sorrow for Demeter's sorrow: she spoke to her as
the two stood upon that dark, high hill, and told her that she should
go to Helios for tidings--to bright Helios, the watcher for the gods,
and beg Helios to tell her who it was who had carried off by violence
her child Persephone.

Demeter came to Helios. He was standing before his shining steeds,
before the impatient steeds that draw the sun through the course of the
heavens. Demeter stood in the way of those impatient steeds; she begged
of Helios who sees all things upon the earth to tell her who it was had
carried off by violence, Persephone, her child.

And Helios, who may make no concealment, said: "Queenly Demeter, know
that the king of the Underworld, dark Aidoneus, has carried off
Persephone to make her his queen in the realm that I never shine upon."
He spoke, and as he did, his horses shook their manes and breathed out
fire, impatient to be gone. Helios sprang into his chariot and went
flashing away.

Demeter, knowing that one of the gods had carried off Persephone
against her will, and knowing that what was done had been done by the
will of Zeus, would go no more into the assemblies of the gods. She
quenched the torch that she had held in her hands for nine days and
nine nights; she put off her robe of goddess, and she went wandering
over the earth, uncomforted for the loss of her child. And no longer
did she appear as a gracious goddess to men; no longer did she give
them grain; no longer did she bless their fields. None of the things
that it had pleased her once to do would Demeter do any longer.



II

Persephone had been playing with the nymphs who are the daughters of
Ocean--Phaeno, Ianthe, Melita, Ianeira, Acast--in the lovely fields of
Enna. They went to gather flowers--irises and crocuses, lilies,
narcissus, hyacinths and roseblooms--that grow in those fields. As they
went, gathering flowers in their baskets, they had sight of Pergus, the
pool that the white swans come to sing in.

Beside a deep chasm that had been made in the earth a wonder flower was
growing--in color it was like the crocus, but it sent forth a perfume
that was like the perfume of a hundred flowers. And Persephone thought
as she went toward it that having gathered that flower she would have
something much more wonderful than her companions had.

She did not know that Aidoneus, the lord of the Underworld, had caused
that flower to grow there so that she might be drawn by it to the chasm
that he had made.

As Persephone stooped to pluck the wonder flower, Aidoneus, in his
chariot of iron, dashed up through the chasm, and grasping the maiden
by the waist, set her beside him. Only Cyane, the nymph, tried to save
Persephone, and it was then that she caught the girdle in her hands.

The maiden cried out, first because her flowers had been spilled, and
then because she was being reft away. She cried out to her mother, and
her cry went over high mountains and sounded up from the sea. The
daughters of Ocean, affrighted, fled and sank down into the depths of
the sea.

In his great chariot of iron that was drawn by black steeds Aidoneus
rushed down through the chasm he had made. Into the Underworld he went,
and he dashed across the River Styx, and he brought his chariot up
beside his throne. And on his dark throne he seated Persephone, the
fainting daughter of Demeter.



III

No more did the Goddess Demeter give grain to men; no more did she
bless their fields: weeds grew where grain had been growing, and men
feared that in a while they would famish for lack of bread.

She wandered through the world, her thought all upon her child,
Persephone, who had been taken from her. Once she sat by a well by a
wayside, thinking upon the child that she might not come to and who
might not come to her.

She saw four maidens come near; their grace and their youth reminded
her of her child. They stepped lightly along, carrying bronze pitchers
in their hands, for they were coming to the Well of the Maiden beside
which Demeter sat.

The maidens thought when they looked upon her that the goddess was some
ancient woman who had a sorrow in her heart. Seeing that she was so
noble and so sorrowful-looking, the maidens, as they drew the clear
water into their pitchers, spoke kindly to her.

"Why do you stay away from the town, old mother?" one of the maidens
said. "Why do you not come to the houses? We think that you look as if
you were shelterless and alone, and we should like to tell you that
there are many houses in the town where you would be welcomed."

Demeter's heart went out to the maidens, because they looked so young
and fair and simple and spoke out of such kind hearts. She said to
them: "Where can I go, dear children? My people are far away, and there
are none in all the world who would care to be near me."

Said one of the maidens: "There are princes in the land who would
welcome you in their houses if you would consent to nurse one of their
young children. But why do I speak of other princes beside Celeus, our
father? In his house you would indeed have a welcome. But lately a baby
has been born to our mother, Metaneira, and she would greatly rejoice
to have one as wise as you mind little Demophoon."

All the time that she watched them and listened to their voices Demeter
felt that the grace and youth of the maidens made them like Persephone.
She thought that it would ease her heart to be in the house where these
maidens were, and she was not loath to have them go and ask of their
mother to have her come to nurse the infant child.

Swiftly they ran back to their home, their hair streaming behind them
like crocus flowers; kind and lovely girls whose names are well
remembered--Callidice and Cleisidice, Demo and Callithoe. They went to
their mother and they told her of the stranger-woman whose name was
Doso. She would make a wise and a kind nurse for little Demophoon, they
said. Their mother, Metaneira, rose up from the couch she was sitting
on to welcome the stranger. But when she saw her at the doorway, awe
came over her, so majestic she seemed.

Metaneira would have her seat herself on the couch but the goddess took
the lowliest stool, saying in greeting: "May the gods give you all
good, lady."

"Sorrow has set you wandering from your good home," said Metaneira to
the goddess, "but now that you have come to this place you shall have
all that this house can bestow if you will rear up to youth the infant
Demophoon, child of many hopes and prayers."

The child was put into the arms of Demeter; she clasped him to her
breast, and little Demophoon looked up into her face and smiled. Then
Demeter's heart went out to the child and to all who were in the
household.

He grew in strength and beauty in her charge. And little Demophoon was
not nourished as other children are nourished, but even as the gods in
their childhood were nourished. Demeter fed him on ambrosia, breathing
on him with her divine breath the while. And at night she laid him on
the hearth, amongst the embers, with the fire all around him. This she
did that she might make him immortal, and like to the gods.

But one night Metaneira looked out from the chamber where she lay, and
she saw the nurse take little Demophoön and lay him in a place on the
hearth with the burning brands all around him. Then Metaneira started
up, and she sprang to the hearth, and she snatched the child from
beside the burning brands. "Demophoön, my son," she cried, "what would
this stranger-woman do to you, bringing bitter grief to me that ever I
let her take you in her arms?"

Then said Demeter: "Foolish indeed are you mortals, and not able to
foresee what is to come to you of good or of evil."

"Foolish indeed are you, Metaneira, for in your heedlessness you have
cut off this child from an immortality like to the immortality of the
gods themselves. For he had lain in my bosom and had become dear to me
and I would have bestowed upon him the greatest gift that the Divine
Ones can bestow, for I would have made him deathless and unaging. All
this, now, has gone by. Honor he shall have indeed, but Demophoon will
know age and death."

The seeming old age that was upon her had fallen from Demeter; beauty
and stature were hers, and from her robe there came a heavenly
fragrance. There came such light from her body that the chamber shone.
Metaneira remained trembling and speechless, unmindful even to take up
the child that had been laid upon the ground.

It was then that his sisters heard Demophoon wail; one ran from her
chamber and took the child in her arms; another kindled again the fire
upon the hearth, and the others made ready to bathe and care for the
infant. All night they cared for him, holding him in their arms and at
their breasts, but the child would not be comforted, becauses the
nurses who handled him now were less skillful than was the
goddess-nurse.

And as for Demeter, she left the house of Celeus and went upon her way,
lonely in her heart, and unappeased. And in the world that she wandered
through, the plow went in vain through the ground; the furrow was sown
without any avail, and the race of men saw themselves near perishing
for lack of bread.

But again Demeter came near the Well of the Maiden. She thought of the
daughters of Celeus as they came toward the well that day, the bronze
pitchers in their hands, and with kind looks for the stranger--she
thought of them as she sat by the well again. And then she thought of
little Demophoon, the child she had held at her breast. No stir of
living was in the land near their home, and only weeds grew in their
fields. As she sat there and looked around her there came into
Demeter's heart a pity for the people in whose house she had dwelt.

She rose up and she went to the house of Celeus. She found him beside
his house measuring out a little grain. The goddess went to him and she
told him that because of the love she bore his household she would
bless his fields so that the seed he had sown in them would come to
growth. Celeus rejoiced, and he called all the people together, and
they raised a temple to Demeter. She went through the fields and
blessed them, and the seed that they had sown began to grow. And the
goddess for a while dwelt amongst that people, in her temple at Eleusis.



IV

But still she kept away from the assemblies of the gods. Zeus sent a
messenger to her, Iris with the golden wings, bidding her to Olympus.
Demeter would not join the Olympians. Then, one after the other, the
gods and goddesses of Olympus came to her; none were able to make her
cease from grieving for Persephone, or to go again into the company of
the immortal gods.

And so it came about that Zeus was compelled to send a messenger down
to the Underworld to bring Persephone back to the mother who grieved so
much for the loss of her. Hermes was the messenger whom Zeus sent.
Through the darkened places of the earth Hermes went, and he came to
that dark throne where the lord Aidoneus sat, with Persephone beside
him. Then Hermes spoke to the lord of the Underworld, saying that Zeus
commanded that Persephone should come forth from the Underworld that
her mother might look upon her.

Then Persephone, hearing the words of Zeus that might not be gainsaid,
uttered the only cry that had left her lips since she had sent out that
cry that had reached her mother's heart. And Aidoneus, hearing the
command of Zeus that might not be denied, bowed his dark, majestic head.

She might go to the Upperworld and rest herself in the arms of her
mother, he said. And then he cried out: "Ah, Persephone, strive to feel
kindliness in your heart toward me who carried you off by violence and
against your will. I can give to you one of the great kingdoms that the
Olympians rule over. And I, who am brother to Zeus, am no unfitting
husband for you, Demeter's child."

So Aidoneus, the dark lord of the Underworld said, and he made ready
the iron chariot with its deathless horses that Persephone might go up
from his kingdom.

Beside the single tree in his domain Aidoneus stayed the chariot. A
single fruit grew on that tree, a bright pomegranate fruit. Persephone
stood up in the chariot and plucked the fruit from the tree. Then did
Aidoneus prevail upon her to divide the fruit, and, having divided it,
Persephone ate seven of the pomegranate seeds.

It was Hermes who took the whip and the reins of the chariot. He drove
on, and neither the sea nor the water-courses, nor the glens nor the
mountain peaks stayed the deathless horses of Aidoneus, and soon the
chariot was brought near to where Demeter awaited the coming of her
daughter.

And when, from a hilltop, Demeter saw the chariot approaching, she flew
like a wild bird to clasp her child. Persephone, when she saw her
mother's dear eyes, sprang out of the chariot and fell upon her neck
and embraced her. Long and long Demeter held her dear child in her
arms, gazing, gazing upon her. Suddenly her mind misgave her. With a
great fear at her heart she cried out: "Dearest, has any food passed
your lips in all the time you have been in the Underworld?"

She had not tasted food in all the time she was there, Persephone said.
And then, suddenly, she remembered the pomegranate that Aidoneus had
asked her to divide. When she told that she had eaten seven seeds from
it Demeter wept, and her tears fell upon Persephone's face.

"Ah, my dearest," she cried, "if you had not eaten the pomegranate
seeds you could have stayed with me, and always we should have been
together. But now that you have eaten food in it, the Underworld has a
claim upon you. You may not stay always with me here. Again you will
have to go back and dwell in the dark places under the earth and sit
upon Aidoneus's throne. But not always you will be there. When the
flowers bloom upon the earth you shall come up from the realm of
darkness, and in great joy we shall go through the world together,
Demeter and Persephone."

And so it has been since Persephone came back to her mother after
having eaten of the pomegranate seeds. For two seasons of the year she
stays with Demeter, and for one season she stays in the Underworld with
her dark lord. While she is with her mother there is springtime upon
the earth. Demeter blesses the furrows, her heart being glad because
her daughter is with her once more. The furrows become heavy with
grain, and soon the whole wide earth has grain and fruit, leaves and
flowers. When the furrows are reaped, when the grain has been gathered,
when the dark season comes, Persephone goes from her mother, and going
down into the dark places, she sits beside her mighty lord Aidoneus and
upon his throne. Not sorrowful is she there; she sits with head
unbowed, for she knows herself to be a mighty queen. She has joy, too,
knowing of the seasons when she may walk with Demeter, her mother, on
the wide places of the earth, through fields of flowers and fruit and
ripening grain.

Such was the story that Orpheus told--Orpheus who knew the histories of
the gods.

A day came when the heroes, on their way back from a journey they had
made with the Lemnian maidens, called out to Heracles upon the Argo.
Then Heracles, standing on the prow of the ship, shouted angrily to
them. Terrible did he seem to the Lemnian maidens, and they ran off,
drawing the heroes with them. Heracles shouted to his comrades again,
saying that if they did not come aboard the Argo and make ready for the
voyage to Colchis, he would go ashore and carry them to the ship, and
force them again to take the oars in their hands.

Not all of what Heracles said did the Argonauts hear.

That evening the men were silent in Hypsipyle's hall, and it was
Atalanta, the maiden, who told the evening's story.



Atalanta's Race

There are two Atalantas, she said; she herself, the Huntress, and
another who is noted for her speed of foot and her delight in the
race--the daughter of Schoeneus, King of Boeotia, Atalanta of the Swift
Foot.

So proud was she of her swiftness that she made a vow to the gods that
none would be her husband except the youth who won past her in the
race. Youth after youth came and raced against her, but Atalanta, who
grew fleeter and fleeter of foot, left each one of them far behind her.
The youths who came to the race were so many and the clamor they made
after defeat was so great, that her father made a law that, as he
thought, would lessen their number. The law that he made was that the
youth who came to race against Atalanta and who lost the race should
lose his life into the bargain. After that the youths who had care for
their lives stayed away from Boeotia.

Once there came a youth from a far part of Greece into the country that
Atalanta's father ruled over. Hippomenes was his name. He did not know
of the race, but having come into the city and seeing the crowd of
people, he went with them to the course. He looked upon the youths who
were girded for the race, and he heard the folk say amongst themselves,
"Poor youths, as mighty and as high-spirited as they look, by sunset
the life will be out of each of them, for Atalanta will run past them
as she ran past the others." Then Hippomenes spoke to the folk in
wonder, and they told him of Atalanta's race and of what would befall
the youths who were defeated in it. "Unlucky youths," cried Hippomenes,
"how foolish they are to try to win a bride at the price of their
lives."

Then, with pity in his heart, he watched the youths prepare for the
race. Atalanta had not yet taken her place, and he was fearful of
looking upon her. "She is a witch," he said to himself, "she must be a
witch to draw so many youths to their deaths, and she, no doubt, will
show in her face and figure the witch's spirit."

But even as he said this, Hippomenes saw Atalanta. She stood with the
youths before they crouched for the first dart in the race. He saw that
she was a girl of a light and a lovely form. Then they crouched for the
race; then the trumpets rang out, and the youths and the maiden darted
like swallows over the sand of the course.

On came Atalanta, far, far ahead of the youths who had started with
her. Over her bare shoulders her hair streamed, blown backward by the
wind that met her flight. Her fair neck shone, and her little feet were
like flying doves. It seemed to Hippomenes as he watched her that there
was fire in her lovely body. On and on she went as swift as the arrow
that the Scythian shoots from his bow. And as he watched the race he
was not sorry that the youths were being left behind. Rather would he
have been enraged if one came near overtaking her, for now his heart
was set upon winning her for his bride, and he cursed himself for not
having entered the race.

She passed the last goal mark and she was given the victor's wreath of
flowers. Hippomenes stood and watched her and he did not see the youths
who had started with her--they had thrown themselves on the ground in
their despair.

Then wild, as though he were one of the doomed youths, Hippomenes made
his way through the throng and came before the black-bearded King of
Boeotia. The king's brows were knit, for even then he was pronouncing
doom upon the youths who had been left behind in the race. He looked
upon Hippomenes, another youth who would make the trial, and the frown
became heavier upon his face.

But Hippomenes saw only Atalanta. She came beside her father; the
wreath was upon her head of gold, and her eyes were wide and tender.
She turned her face to him, and then she knew by the wildness that was
in his look that he had come to enter the race with her. Then the flush
that was on her face died away, and she shook her head as if she were
imploring him to go from that place.

The dark-bearded king bent his brows upon him and said, "Speak, O
youth, speak and tell us what brings you here."

Then cried Hippomenes as if his whole life were bursting out with his
words: "Why does this maiden, your daughter, seek an easy renown by
conquering weakly youths in the race? She has not striven yet. Here
stand I, one of the blood of Poseidon, the god of the sea. Should I be
defeated by her in the race, then, indeed, might Atalanta have
something to boast of."

Atalanta stepped forward and said: "Do not speak of it, youth. Indeed I
think that it is some god, envious of your beauty and your strength,
who sent you here to strive with me and to meet your doom. Ah, think of
the youths who have striven with me even now! Think of the hard doom
that is about to fall upon them! You venture your life in the race, but
indeed I am not worthy of the price. Go hence, O stranger youth, go
hence and live happily, for indeed I think that there is some maiden
who loves you well."

"Nay, maiden," said Hippomenes, "I will enter the race and I will
venture my life on the chance of winning you for my bride. What good
will my life and my spirit be to me if they cannot win this race for
me?"

She drew away from him then and looked upon him no more, but bent down
to fasten the sandals upon her feet. And the black-bearded king looked
upon Hippomenes and said, "Face, then, this race to-morrow. You will be
the only one who will enter it. But bethink thee of the doom that
awaits thee at the end of it." The king said no more, and Hippomenes
went from him and from Atalanta, and he came again to the place where
the race had been run.

He looked across the sandy course with its goal marks, and in his mind
he saw again Atalanta's swift race. He would not meet doom at the hands
of the king's soldiers, he knew, for his spirit would leave him with
the greatness of the effort he would make to reach the goal before her.
And he thought it would be well to die in that effort and on that sandy
place that was so far from his own land.

Even as he looked across the sandy course now deserted by the throng,
he saw one move across it, coming toward him with feet that did not
seem to touch the ground. She was a woman of wonderful presence. As
Hippomenes looked upon her he knew that she was Aphrodite, the goddess
of beauty and of love.

"Hippomenes," said the immortal goddess, "the gods are mindful of you
who are sprung from one of the gods, and I am mindful of you because of
your own worth. I have come to help you in your race with Atalanta, for
I would not have you slain, nor would I have that maiden go unwed. Give
your greatest strength and your greatest swiftness to the race, and
behold! here are wonders that will prevent the fleet-footed Atalanta
from putting all her spirit into the race."

And then the immortal goddess held out to Hippomenes a branch that had
upon it three apples of shining gold.

"In Cyprus," said the goddess, "where I have come from, there is a tree
on which these golden apples grow. Only I may pluck them. I have
brought them to you, Hippomenes. Keep them in your girdle, and in the
race you will find out what to do with them, I think."

So Aphrodite said, and then she vanished, leaving a fragrance in the
air and the three shining apples in the hands of Hippomenes. Long he
looked upon their brightness. They were beside him that night, and when
he arose in the dawn he put them in his girdle. Then, before the
throng, he went to the place of the race.

When he showed himself beside Atalanta, all around the course were
silent, for they all admired Hippomenes for his beauty and for the
spirit that was in his face; they were silent out of compassion, for
they knew the doom that befell the youths who raced with Atalanta.

And now Schoeneus, the black-bearded king, stood up, and he spoke to
the throng, saying, "Hear me all, both young and old: this youth,
Hippomenes, seeks to win the race from my daughter, winning her for his
bride. Now, if he be victorious and escape death I will give him my
dear child, Atalanta, and many fleet horses besides as gifts from me,
and in honor he shall go back to his native land. But if he fail in the
race, then he will have to share the doom that has been meted out to
the other youths who raced with Atalanta hoping to win her for a bride."

Then Hippomenes and Atalanta crouched for the start. The trumpets were
sounded and they darted off.

Side by side with Atalanta, Hippomenes went. Her flying hair touched
his breast, and it seemed to him that they were skimming the sandy
course as if they were swallows. But then Atalanta began to draw away
from him. He saw her ahead of him, and then he began to hear the words
of cheer that came from the throng "Bend to the race, Hippomenes! Go
on, go on! Use your strength to the utmost." He bent himself to the
race, but further and further from him Atalanta drew.

Then it seemed to him that she checked her swiftness a little to look
back at him. He gained on her a little. And then his hand touched the
apples that were in his girdle. As it touched them it came into his
mind what to do with the apples.

He was not far from her now, but already her swiftness was drawing her
further and further away. He took one of the apples into his hand and
tossed it into the air so that it fell on the track before her.

Atalanta saw the shining apple. She checked her speed and stooped in
the race to pick it up. And as she stooped Hippomenes darted past her,
and went flying toward the goal that now was within his sight.

But soon she was beside him again. He looked, and he saw that the goal
marks were far, far ahead of him. Atalanta with the flying hair passed
him, and drew away and away from him. He had not speed to gain upon her
now, he thought, so he put his strength into his hand and he flung the
second of the shining apples. The apple rolled before her and rolled
off the course. Atalanta turned off the course, stooped and picked up
the apple.

Then did Hippomenes draw all his spirit into his breast as he raced on.
He was now nearer to the goal than she was. But he knew that she was
behind him, going lightly where he went heavily. And then she was
beside him, and then she went past him. She paused in her speed for a
moment and she looked back on him.

As he raced on, his chest seemed weighted down and his throat was
crackling dry. The goal marks were far away still, but Atalanta was
nearing them. He took the last of the golden apples into his hand.
Perhaps she was now so far that the strength of his throw would not be
great enough to bring the apple before her.

But with all the strength he could put into his hand he flung the
apple. It struck the course before her feet and then went bounding
wide. Atalanta swerved in her race and followed where the apple went.
Hippomenes marvelled that he had been able to fling it so far. He saw
Atalanta stoop to pick up the apple, and he bounded on. And then,
although his strength was failing, he saw the goal marks near him. He
set his feet between them and then fell down on the ground.

The attendants raised him up and put the victor's wreath upon his head.
The concourse of people shouted with joy to see him victor. But he
looked around for Atalanta and he saw her standing there with the
golden apples in her hands. "He has won," he heard her say, "and I have
not to hate myself for bringing a doom upon him. Gladly, gladly do I
give up the race, and glad am I that it is this youth who has won the
victory from me."

She took his hand and brought him before the king. Then Schoeneus, in
the sight of all the rejoicing people, gave Atalanta to Hippomenes for
his bride, and he bestowed upon him also a great gift of horses. With
his dear and hard-won bride, Hippomenes went to his own country, and
the apples that she brought with her, the golden apples of Aphrodite,
were reverenced by the people.



X. THE DEPARTURE FROM LEMNOS

A day came when Heracles left the Argo and went on the Lemnian land. He
gathered the heroes about him, and they, seeing Heracles come amongst
them, clamored to go to hunt the wild bulls that were inland from the
sea.

So, for once, the heroes left the Lemnian maidens who were their
friends. Jason, too, left Hypsipyle in the palace and went with
Heracles. And as they went, Heracles spoke to each of the heroes,
saying that they were forgetting the Fleece of Gold that they had
sailed to gain.

Jason blushed to think that he had almost let go out of his mind the
quest that had brought him from Iolcus. And then he thought upon
Hypsipyle and of how her little hand would stay in his, and his own
hand became loose upon the spear so that it nearly fell from him. How
could he, he thought, leave Hypsipyle and this land of Lemnos behind?

He heard the clear voice of Atalanta as she, too, spoke to the
Argonauts. What Heracles said was brave and wise, said Atalanta.
Forgetfulness would cover their names if they stayed longer in
Lemnos--forgetfulness and shame, and they would come to despise
themselves. Leave Lemnos, she cried, and draw Argo into the sea, and
depart for Colchis.

All day the Argonauts stayed by themselves, hunting the bulls. On their
way back from the chase they were met by Lemnian maidens who carried
wreaths of flowers for them. Very silent were the heroes as the maidens
greeted them. Heracles went with Jason to the palace, and Hypsipyle,
seeing the mighty stranger coming, seated herself, not on the couch
where she was wont to sit looking into the face of Jason, but on the
stone throne of King Thoas, her father. And seated on that throne she
spoke to Jason and to Heracles as a queen might speak.

In the hall that night the heroes and the Lemnian maidens who were with
them were quiet. A story was told; Castor began it and Polydeuces ended
it. And the story that Helen's brothers told was:



The Golden Maid

Epimetheus the Titan had a brother who was the wisest of all
Beings--Prometheus called the Foreseer. But Epimetheus himself was
slow-witted and scatter-brained. His wise brother once sent him a
message bidding him beware of the gifts that Zeus might send him.
Epimetheus heard, but he did not heed the warning, and thereby he
brought upon the race of men troubles and cares.

Prometheus, the wise Titan, had saved men from a great trouble that
Zeus would have brought upon them. Also he had given them the gift of
fire. Zeus was the more wroth with men now because fire, stolen from
him, had been given them; he was wroth with the race of Titans, too,
and he pondered in his heart how he might injure men, and how he might
use Epimetheus, the mindless Titan, to further his plan.

While he pondered there was a hush on high Olympus, the mountain of the
gods. Then Zeus called upon the artisan of the gods, lame Hephaestus,
and he commanded him to make a being out of clay that would have the
likeness of a lovely maiden. With joy and pride Hephaestus worked at
the task that had been given him, and he fashioned a being that had the
likeness of a lovely maiden, and he brought the thing of his making
before the gods and the goddesses.

All strove to add a grace or a beauty to the work of Hephaestus. Zeus
granted that the maiden should see and feel. Athene dressed her in
garments that were as lovely as flowers. Aphrodite, the goddess of
love, put a charm on her lips and in her eyes. The Graces put necklaces
around her neck and set a golden crown upon her head. The Hours brought
her a girdle of spring flowers. Then the herald of the gods gave her
speech that was sweet and flowing. All the gods and goddesses had given
gifts to her, and for that reason the maiden of Hephaestus's making was
called Pandora, the All-endowed.

She was lovely, the gods knew; not beautiful as they themselves are,
who have a beauty that awakens reverence rather than love, but lovely,
as flowers and bright waters and earthly maidens are lovely. Zeus
smiled to himself when he looked upon her, and he called to Hermes who
knew all the ways of the earth, and he put her into the charge of
Hermes. Also he gave Hermes a great jar to take along; this jar was
Pandora's dower.

Epimetheus lived in a deep-down valley. Now one day, as he was sitting
on a fallen pillar in the ruined place that was now forsaken by the
rest of the Titans, he saw a pair coming toward him. One had wings, and
he knew him to be Hermes, the messenger of the gods. The other was a
maiden. Epimetheus marveled at the crown upon her head and at her
lovely garments. There was a glint of gold all around her. He rose from
where he sat upon the broken pillar and he stood to watch the pair.
Hermes, he saw, was carrying by its handle a great jar.

In wonder and delight he looked upon the maiden. Epimetheus had seen no
lovely thing for ages. Wonderful indeed was this Golden Maid, and as
she came nearer the charm that was on her lips and in her eyes came to
the Earth-born One, and he smiled with more and more delight.

Hermes came and stood before him. He also smiled, but his smile had
something baleful in it. He put the hands of the Golden Maid into the
great soft hand of the Titan, and he said, "O Epimetheus, Father Zeus
would be reconciled with thee, and as a sign of his good will he sends
thee this lovely goddess to be thy companion."

Oh, very foolish was Epimetheus the Earth-born One! As he looked upon
the Golden Maid who was sent by Zeus he lost memory of the wars that
Zeus had made upon the Titans and the Elder Gods; he lost memory of his
brother chained by Zeus to the rock; he lost memory of the warning that
his brother, the wisest of all beings, had sent him. He took the hands
of Pandora, and he thought of nothing at all in all the world but her.
Very far away seemed the voice of Hermes saying, "This jar, too, is
from Olympus; it has in it Pandora's dower."

The jar stood forgotten for long, and green plants grew over it while
Epimetheus walked in the garden with the Golden Maid, or watched her
while she gazed on herself in the stream, or searched in the untended
places for the fruits that the Elder Gods would eat, when they feasted
with the Titans in the old days, before Zeus had come to his power. And
lost to Epimetheus was the memory of his brother now suffering upon the
rock because of the gift he had given to men.

And Pandora, knowing nothing except the brightness of the sunshine and
the lovely shapes and colors of things and the sweet taste of the
fruits that Epimetheus brought to her, could have stayed forever in
that garden.

But every day Epimetheus would think that the men and women of the
world should be able to talk to him about this maiden with the
wonderful radiance of gold, and with the lovely garments, and the
marvelous crown. And one day he took Pandora by the hand, and he
brought her out of that deep-lying valley, and toward the homes of men.
He did not forget the jar that Hermes had left with her. All things
that belonged to the Golden Maid were precious, and Epimetheus took the
jar along.

The race of men at the time were simple and content. Their days were
passed in toil, but now, since Prometheus had given them fire, they had
good fruits of their toil. They had well-shaped tools to dig the earth
and to build houses. Their homes were warmed with fire, and fire burned
upon the altars that were upon their ways.

Greatly they reverenced Prometheus, who had given them fire, and
greatly they reverenced the race of the Titans. So when Epimetheus came
amongst them, tall as a man walking with stilts, they welcomed him and
brought him and the Golden Maid to their hearths. And Epimetheus showed
Pandora the wonderful element that his brother had given to men, and
she rejoiced to see the fire, clapping her hands with delight. The jar
that Epimetheus brought he left in an open place.

In carrying it up the rough ways out of the valley Epimetheus may have
knocked the jar about, for the lid that had been tight upon it now
fitted very loosely. But no one gave heed to the jar as it stood in the
open space where Epimetheus had left it.

At first the men and women looked upon the beauty of Pandora, upon her
lovely dresses, and her golden crown and her girdle of flowers, with
wonder and delight. Epimetheus would have every one admire and praise
her. The men would leave off working in the fields, or hammering on
iron, or building houses, and the women would leave off spinning or
weaving, and come at his call, and stand about and admire the Golden
Maid. But as time went by a change came upon the women: one woman would
weep, and another would look angry, and a third would go back sullenly
to her work when Pandora was admired or praised.

Once the women were gathered together, and one who was the wisest
amongst them said: "Once we did not think about ourselves, and we were
content. But now we think about ourselves, and we say to ourselves that
we are harsh and ill-favored indeed compared to the Golden Maid that
the Titan is so enchanted with. And we hate to see our own men praise
and admire her, and often, in our hearts, we would destroy her if we
could."

"That is true," the women said. And then a young woman cried out in a
most yearnful voice, "O tell us, you who are wise, how can we make
ourselves as beautiful as Pandora!"

Then said that woman who was thought to be wise, "This Golden Maid is
Lovely to look upon because she has lovely apparel and all the means of
keeping herself lovely. The gods have given her the ways, and, so her
skin remains fair, and her hair keeps its gold, and her lips are ever
red and her eyes shining. And I think that the means that she has of
keeping lovely are all in that jar that Epimetheus brought with her."

When the woman who was thought to be wise said this, those around her
were silent for a while. But then one arose and another arose, and they
stood and whispered together, one saying to the other that they should
go to the place where the jar had been left by Epimetheus, and that
they should take out of it the salves and the charms and the washes
that would leave them as beautiful as Pandora.

So the women went to that place. On their way they stopped at a pool
and they bent over to see themselves mirrored in it, and they saw
themselves  with dusty and unkempt hair, with large and knotted hands,
with troubled eyes, and with anxious mouths.

They frowned as they looked upon their images, and they said in harsh
voices that in a while they would have ways of making themselves as
lovely as the Golden Maid.

And as they went on they saw Pandora. She was playing in a flowering
field, while Epimetheus, high as a man upon stilts, went gathering the
blossoms of the bushes for her. They went on, and they came at last to
the place where Epimetheus had left the jar that held Pandora's dower.

A great stone jar it was; there was no bird, nor flower, nor branch
painted upon it. It stood high as a woman's shoulder. And as the women
looked on it they thought that there were things enough in it to keep
them beautiful for all the days of their lives. But each one thought
that she should not be the last to get her hands into it.

Once the lid had been fixed tightly down on the jar. But the lid was
shifted a little now. As the hands of the women grasped it to take off
the lid the jar was cast down, and the things that were inside spilled
themselves forth.

They were black and gray and red; they were crawling and flying things.
And, as the women looked, the things spread themselves abroad or
fastened themselves upon them.

The jar, like Pandora herself, had been made and filled out of the ill
will of Zeus. And it had been filled, not with salves and charms and
washes, as the women had thought, but with Cares and Troubles. Before
the women came to it one Trouble had already come forth from the
jar--Self-thought that was upon the top of the heap. It was
Self-thought that had afflicted the women, making them troubled about
their own looks, and envious of the graces of the Golden Maid.

And now the others spread themselves out--Sickness and War and Strife
between friends. They spread themselves abroad and entered the houses,
while Epimetheus, the mindless Titan, gathered flowers for Pandora, the
Golden Maid.

Lest she should weary of her play he called to her. He would take her
into the houses of men. As they drew near to the houses they saw a
woman seated on the ground, weeping; her husband had suddenly become
hard to her and had shut the door on her face.

They came upon a child crying because of a pain that he could not
understand. And then they found two men struggling, their strife being
on account of a possession that they had both held peaceably before.

In every house they went to Epimetheus would say, "I am the brother of
Prometheus, who gave you the gift of fire." But instead of giving them
a welcome the men would say, "We know nothing about your relation to
Prometheus. We see you as a foolish man upon stilts."

Epimetheus was troubled by the hard looks and the cold words of the men
who once had reverenced him. He turned from the houses and went away.
In a quiet place he sat down, and for a while he lost sight of Pandora.
And then it seemed to him that he heard the voice of his wise and
suffering brother saying, "Do not accept any gift that Zeus may send
you."

He rose up and he hurried away from that place, leaving Pandora playing
by herself. There came into his scattered mind Regret and Fear. As he
went on he stumbled. He fell from the edge of a cliff, and the sea
washed away the body of the mindless brother of Prometheus.

Not everything had been spilled out of the jar that had been brought
with Pandora into the world of men. A beautiful, living thing was in
that jar also. This was Hope. And this beautiful, living thing had got
caught under the rim of the jar and had not come forth with the others.
One day a weeping woman found Hope under the rim of Pandora's jar and
brought this living thing into the house of men. And now because of
Hope they could see an end to their troubles. And the men and women
roused themselves in the midst of their afflictions and they looked
toward gladness. Hope, that had been caught under the rim of the jar,
stayed behind the thresholds of their houses.

As for Pandora, the Golden Maid, she played on, knowing only the
brightness of the sunshine and the lovely shapes of things. Beautiful
would she have seemed to any being who saw her, but now she had strayed
away from the houses of men and Epimetheus was not there to look upon
her. Then Hephaestus, the lame artisan of the gods, left down his tools
and went to seek her. He found Pandora, and he took her back to
Olympus. And in his brazen house she stays, though sometimes at the
will of Zeus she goes down into the world of men.

When Polydeuces had ended the story that Castor had begun, Heracles
cried out: "For the Argonauts, too, there has been a Golden Maid--nay,
not one, but a Golden Maid for each. Out of the jar that has been with
her ye have taken forgetfulness of your honor. As for me, I go back to
the Argo lest one of these Golden Maids should hold me back from the
labors that make great a man."

So Heracles said, and he went from Hypsipyle's hall. The heroes looked
at each other, and they stood up, and shame that they had stayed so
long away from the quest came over each of them. The maidens took their
hands; the heroes unloosed those soft hands and turned away from them.

Hypsipyle left the throne of King Thoas and stood before Jason. There
was a storm in all her body; her mouth was shaken, and a whole life's
trouble was in her great eyes. Before she spoke Jason cried out: "What
Heracles said is true, O Argonauts! On the Quest of the Golden Fleece
our lives and our honors depend. To Colchis--to Colchis must we go!"

He stood upright in the hall, and his comrades gathered around him. The
Lemnian maidens would have held out their arms and would have made
their partings long delayed, but that a strange cry came to them
through the night. Well did the Argonauts know that cry--it was the cry
of the ship, of Argo herself. They knew that they must go to her now or
stay from the voyage for ever. And the maidens knew that there was
something in the cry of the ship that might not be gainsaid, and they
put their hands before their faces, and they said no other word.

Then said Hypsipyle, the queen, "I, too, am a ruler, Jason, and I know
that there are great commands that we have to obey. Go, then, to the
Argo. Ah, neither I nor the women of Lemnos will stay your going now.
But to-morrow speak to us from the deck of the ship and bid us
farewell. Do not go from us in the night, Jason."

Jason and the Argonauts went from Hypsipyle's hall. The maidens who
were left behind wept together. All but Hypsipyle. She sat on the
throne of King Thoas and she had Polyxo, her nurse, tell her of the
ways of Jason's voyage as he had told of them, and of all that he would
have to pass through. When the other Lemnian women slept she put her
head upon her nurse's, knees and wept; bitterly Hypsipyle wept, but
softly, for she would not have the others hear her weeping.

By the coming of the morning's light the Argonauts had made all ready
for their sailing. They were standing on the deck when the light came,
and they saw the Lemnian women come to the shore. Each looked at her
friend aboard the Argo, and spoke, and went away. And last, Hypsipyle,
the queen, came. "Farewell, Hypsipyle," Jason said to her, and she, in
her strange way of speaking, said:

"What you told us I have remembered--how you will come to the dangerous
passage that leads into the Sea of Pontus, and how by the flight of a
pigeon you will know whether or not you may go that way. O Jason, let
the dove you fly when you come to that dangerous place be Hypsipyle's."

She showed a pigeon held in her hands. She loosed it, and the pigeon
alighted on the ship, and stayed there on pink feet, a white-feathered
pigeon. Jason took up the pigeon and held it in his hands, and the Argo
drew swiftly away from the Lemnian land.



XI. THE PASSAGE OF THE SYMPLEGADES

They came near Salmydessus, where Phineus, the wise king, ruled, and
they sailed past it; they sighted the pile of stones, with the oar
upright upon it that they had raised on the seashore over the body of
Tiphys, the skillful steersman whom they had lost; they sailed on until
they heard a sound that grew more and more thunderous, and then the
heroes said to each other, "Now we come to the Symplegades and the
dread passage into the Sea of Pontus."

It was then that Jason cried out: "Ah, when Pelias spoke of this quest
to me, why did I not turn my head away and refuse to be drawn into it?
Since we came near the dread passage that is before us I have passed
every night in groans. As for you who have come with me, you may take
your ease, for you need care only for your own lives. But I have to
care for you all, and to strive to win for you all a safe return to
Greece. Ah, greatly am I afflicted now, knowing to what a great peril I
have brought you!"

So Jason said, thinking to make trial of the heroes. They, on their
part, were not dismayed, but shouted back cheerful words to him. Then
he said: "O friends of mine, by your spirit my spirit is quickened. Now
if I knew that I was being borne down into the black gulfs of Hades, I
should fear nothing, knowing that you are constant and faithful of
heart."

As he said this they came into water that seethed all around the ship.
Then into the hands of Euphemus, a youth of Iolcus, who was the
keenest-eyed amongst the Argonauts, Jason put the pigeon that Hypsipyle
had given him. He bade him stand by the prow of the Argo, ready to
loose the pigeon as the ship came nigh that dreadful gate of rock.

They saw the spray being dashed around in showers; they saw the sea
spread itself out in foam; they saw the high, black rocks rush
together, sounding thunderously as they met. The caves in the high
rocks rumbled as the sea surged into them, and the foam of the dashing
waves spurted high up the rocks.

Jason shouted to each man to grip hard on the oars. The Argo dashed on
as the rocks rushed toward each other again. Then there was such noise
that no man's voice could be heard above it.

As the rocks met, Euphemus loosed the pigeon. With his keen eyes he
watched her fly through the spray. Would she, not finding an opening to
fly through, turn back? He watched, and meanwhile the Argonauts gripped
hard on the oars to save the ship from being dashed on the rocks. The
pigeon fluttered as though she would sink down and let the spray drown
her. And then Euphemus saw her raise herself and fly forward. Toward
the place where she had flown he pointed. The rowers gave a loud cry,
and Jason called upon them to pull with might and main.

The rocks were parting asunder, and to the right and left broad Pontus
was seen by the heroes. Then suddenly a huge wave rose before them, and
at the sight of it they all uttered a cry and bent their heads. It
seemed to them that it would dash down on the whole ship's length and
overwhelm them all. But Nauplius was quick to ease the ship, and the
wave rolled away beneath the keel, and at the stern it raised the Argo
and dashed her away from the rocks.

They felt the sun as it streamed upon them through the sundered rocks.
They strained at the oars until the oars bent like bows in their hands.
The ship sprang forward. Surely they were now in the wide Sea of Pontus!

The Argonauts shouted. They saw the rocks behind them with the sea fowl
screaming upon them. Surely they were in the Sea of Pontus--the sea
that had never been entered before through the Rocks Wandering. The
rocks no longer dashed together; each remained fixed in its place, for
it was the will of the gods that these rocks should no more clash
together after a mortal's ship had passed between them.

They were now in the Sea of Pontus, the sea into which flowed the river
that Colchis was upon--the River Phasis. And now above Jason's head the
bird of peaceful days, the Halcyon, fluttered, and the Argonauts knew
that this was a sign from the gods that the voyage would not any more
be troublous.



XII. THE MOUNTAIN CAUCASUS

They rested in the harbor of Thynias, the desert island, and sailing
from there they came to the land of the Mariandyni, a people who were
constantly at war with the Bebrycians; there the hero Polydeuces was
welcomed as a god. Twelve days afterward they passed the mouth of the
River Callichorus; then they came to the mouth of that river that flows
through the land of the Amazons, the River Thermodon. Fourteen days
from that place brought them to the island that is filled with the
birds of Ares, the god of war. These birds dropped upon the heroes
heavy, pointed feathers that would have pierced them as arrows if they
had not covered themselves with their shields; then by shouting, and by
striking their shields with their spears, they raised such a clamor as
drove the birds away.

They sailed on, borne by a gentle breeze, until a gulf of the sea
opened before them, and lo! a mountain that they knew bore some mighty
name. Orpheus, looking on its peak and its crags, said, "Lo, now! We,
the Argonauts, are looking upon the mountain that is named Caucasus!"

When he declared the name the heroes all stood up and looked on the
mountain with awe. And in awe they cried out a name, and that name was
"Prometheus!"

For upon that mountain the Titan god was held, his limbs bound upon the
hard rocks by fetters of bronze. Even as the Argonauts looked toward
the mountain a great shadow fell upon their ship, and looking up they
saw a monstrous bird flying. The beat of the bird's wings filled out
the sail and drove the Argo swiftly onward. "It is the bird sent by
Zeus," Orpheus said. "It is the vulture that every day devours the
liver of the Titan god." They cowered down on the ship as they heard
that word--all the Argonauts save Heracles; he stood upright and looked
out toward where the bird was flying. Then, as the bird came near to
the mountain, the Argonauts heard a great cry of anguish go up from the
rocks.

"It is Prometheus crying out as the bird of Zeus flies down upon him,"
they said to one another. Again they cowered down on the ship, all save
Heracles, who stayed looking toward where the great vulture had flown.

The night came and the Argonauts sailed on in silence, thinking in awe
of the Titan god and of the doom that Zeus had inflicted upon him.
Then, as they sailed on under the stars, Orpheus told them of
Prometheus, of his gift to men, and of the fearful punishment that had
been meted out to him by Zeus.



Prometheus

The gods more than once made a race of men: the first was a Golden
Race. Very close to the gods who dwell on Olympus was this Golden Race;
they lived justly although there were no laws to compel them. In the
time of the Golden Race the earth knew only one season, and that season
was everlasting Spring. The men and women of the Golden Race lived
through a span of life that was far beyond that of the men and women of
our day, and when they died it was as though sleep had become
everlasting with them. They had all good things, and that without
labor, for the earth without any forcing bestowed fruits and crops upon
them. They had peace all through their lives, this Golden Race, and
after they had passed away their spirits remained above the earth,
inspiring the men of the race that came after them to do great and
gracious things and to act justly and kindly to one another.

After the Golden Race had passed away, the gods made for the earth a
second race--a Silver Race. Less noble in spirit and in body was this
Silver Race, and the seasons that visited them were less gracious. In
the time of the Silver Race the gods made the seasons--Summer and
Spring, and Autumn and Winter. They knew parching heat, and the bitter
winds of winter, and snow and rain and hail. It was the men of the
Silver Race who first built houses for shelter. They lived through a
span of life that was longer  than our span, but it was not long enough
to give wisdom to them. Children were brought up at their mothers'
sides for a hundred years, playing at childish things. And when they
came to years beyond  a hundred they quarreled with one another, and
wronged one another, and did not know enough to give reverence to the
immortal gods. Then, by the will of Zeus, the Silver Race passed away
as the  Golden Race had passed away. Their spirits stay in the
Underworld, and they are called by men the blessed spirits of the
Underworld.

And then there was made the third race--the Race of Bronze. They were a
race great of stature, terrible and strong. Their armor was of bronze,
their swords were of bronze, their implements were of bronze, and of
bronze, too, they made their houses. No great span of life was theirs,
for with the weapons that they took in their terrible hands they slew
one another. Thus they passed away, and went down under the earth to
Hades, leaving no name that men might know them by.

Then the gods created a fourth race--our own: a Race of Iron. We have
not the justice that was amongst the men of the Golden Race, nor the
simpleness that was amongst the men of the Silver Race, nor the stature
nor the great strength that the men of the Bronze Race possessed. We
are of iron that we may endure. It is our doom that we must never cease
from labor and that we must very quickly grow old.

But miserable as we are to-day, there was a time when the lot of men
was more miserable. With poor implements they had to labor on a hard
ground. There was less justice and kindliness amongst men in those days
than there is now.

Once it came into the mind of Zeus that he would destroy the fourth
race and leave the earth to the nymphs and the satyrs. He would destroy
it by a great flood. But Prometheus, the--Titan god who had given aid
to Zeus against the other Titans--Prometheus, who was called the
Foreseer--could not consent to the race of men being destroyed utterly,
and he considered a way of saving some of them. To a man and a woman,
Deucalion and Pyrrha, just and gentle people, he brought word of the
plan of Zeus, and he showed them how to make a ship that would bear
them through what was about to be sent upon the earth.

Then Zeus shut up in their cave all the winds but the wind that brings
rain and clouds. He bade this wind, the South Wind, sweep over the
earth, flooding it with rain. He called upon Poseidon and bade him to
let the sea pour in upon the land. And Poseidon commanded the rivers to
put forth all their strength, and sweep dykes away, and overflow their
banks.

The clouds and the sea and the rivers poured upon the earth. The flood
rose higher and higher, and in the places where the pretty lambs had
played the ugly sea calves now gambolled; men in their boats drew
fishes out of the tops of elm trees, and the water nymphs were amazed
to come on men's cities under the waves.

Soon even the men and women who had boats were overwhelmed by the rise
of water--all perished then except Deucalion and Pyrrha, his wife; them
the waves had not overwhelmed, for they were in a ship that Prometheus
had shown them how to build. The flood went down at last, and Deucalion
and Pyrrha climbed up to a high and a dry ground. Zeus saw that two of
the race of men had been left alive. But he saw that these two were
just and kindly, and had a right reverence for the gods. He spared
them, and he saw their children again peopling the earth.

Prometheus, who had saved them, looked on the men and women of the
earth with compassion. Their labor was hard, and they wrought much to
gain little. They were chilled at night in their houses, and the winds
that blew in the daytime made the old men and women bend double like a
wheel. Prometheus thought to himself that if men and women had the
element that only the gods knew of--the element of fire--they could
make for themselves implements for labor; they could build houses that
would keep out the chilling winds, and they could warm themselves at
the blaze.

But the gods had not willed that men should have fire, and to go
against the will of the gods would be impious. Prometheus went against
the will of the gods. He stole fire from the altar of Zeus, and he hid
it in a hollow fennel stalk, and he brought it to men.

Then men were able to hammer iron into tools, and cut down forests with
axes, and sow grain where the forests had been. Then were they able to
make houses that the storms could not overthrow, and they were able to
warm themselves at hearth fires. They had rest from their labor at
times. They built cities; they became beings who no longer had heads
and backs bent but were able to raise their faces even to the gods.

And Zeus spared the race of men who had now the sacred element of fire.
But he knew that Prometheus had stolen this fire even from his own
altar and had given it to men. And he thought on how he might punish
the great Titan god for his impiety.

He brought back from the Underworld the giants that he had put there to
guard the Titans that had been hurled down to Tartarus. He brought back
Gyes, Cottus, and Briareus, and he commanded them to lay hands upon
Prometheus and to fasten him with fetters to the highest, blackest crag
upon Caucasus. And Briareus, Cottus, and Gyes seized upon the Titan
god, and carried him to Caucasus, and fettered him with fetters of
bronze to the highest, blackest crag--with fetters of bronze that may
not be broken. There they have left the Titan stretched, under the sky,
with the cold winds blowing upon him, and with the sun streaming down
on him. And that his punishment might exceed all other punishments Zeus
had sent a vulture to prey upon him--a vulture that tears at his liver
each day.

And yet Prometheus does not cry out that he has repented of his gift to
man; although the winds blow upon him, and the sun streams upon him,
and the vulture tears at his liver, Prometheus will not cry out his
repentance to heaven. And Zeus may not utterly destroy him. For
Prometheus the Foreseer knows a secret that Zeus would fain have him
disclose. He knows that even as Zeus overthrew his father and made
himself the ruler in his stead, so, too, another will overthrow Zeus.
And one day Zeus will have to have the fetters broken from around the
limbs of Prometheus, and will have to bring from the rock and the
vulture, and into the Council of the Olympians, the unyielding Titan
god.

When the light of the morning came the Argo was very near to the
Mountain Caucasus. The voyagers looked in awe upon its black crags.
They saw the great vulture circling over a high rock, and from beneath
where the vulture circled they heard a weary cry. Then Heracles, who
all night had stood by the mast, cried out to the Argonauts to bring
the ship near to a landing place.

But Jason would not have them go near; fear of the wrath of Zeus was
strong upon him; rather, he bade the Argonauts put all their strength
into their rowing, and draw far off from that forbidden mountain.
Heracles, not heeding what Jason ordered, declared that it was his
purpose to make his way up to the black crag, and, with his shield and
his sword in his hands, slay the vulture that preyed upon the liver of
Prometheus.

Then Orpheus in a clear voice spoke to the Argonauts. "Surely some
spirit possesses Heracles," he said. "Despite all we do or say he will
make his way to where Prometheus is fettered to the rock. Do not
gainsay him in this! Remember what Nereus, the ancient one of the sea,
declared! Did Nereus not say that a great labor awaited Heracles, and
that in the doing of it he should work out the will of Zeus? Stay him
not! How just it would be if he who is the son of Zeus freed from his
torments the much-enduring Titan god!"

So Orpheus said in his clear, commanding voice. They drew near to the
Mountain Caucasus. Then Heracles, gripping the sword and shield that
were the gifts of the gods, sprang out on the landing place. The
Argonauts shouted farewell to him. But he, filled as he was with an
overmastering spirit, did not heed their words.

A strong breeze drove them onward; darkness came down, and the Argo
went on through the night. With the morning light those who were
sleeping were awakened by the cry of Nauplius--"Lo! The Phasis, and the
utmost bourne of the sea!" They sprang up, and looked with many strange
feelings upon the broad river they had come to.

Here was the Phasis emptying itself into the Sea of Pontus! Up that
river was Colchis and the city of King Æetes, the end of their voyage,
the place where was kept the Golden Fleece! Quickly they let down the
sail; they lowered the mast and they laid it along the deck; strongly
they grasped the oars; they swung the Argo around, and they entered the
broad stream of the Phasis.

Up the river they went with the Mountain Caucasus on their left hand,
and on their right the groves and gardens of Aea, King Æetes's city. As
they went up the stream, Jason poured from a golden cup an offering to
the gods. And to the dead heroes of that country the Argonauts prayed
for good fortune to their enterprise.

It was Jason's counsel that they should not at once appear before King
Æetes, but visit him after they had seen the strength of his city. They
drew their ship into a shaded backwater, and there they stayed while
day grew and faded around them.

Night came, and the heroes slept upon the deck of Argo. Many things
came back to them in their dreams or through their half-sleep: they
thought of the Lemnian maidens they had parted from; of the Clashing
Rocks they had passed between; of the look in the eyes of Heracles as
he raised his face to the high, black peak of Caucasus. They slept, and
they thought they saw before them THE GOLDEN FLEECE; darkness
surrounded it; it seemed to the dreaming Argonauts that the darkness
was the magic power that King Æetes possessed.




PART II. The Return To Greece



I. KING ÆETES

They had come into a country that was the strangest of all countries,
and amongst a people that were the strangest of all peoples. They were
in the land, this people said, before the moon had come into the sky.
And it is true that when the great king of Egypt had come so far,
finding in all other places men living on the high hills and eating the
acorns that grew on the oaks there, he found in Colchis the city of Aea
with a wall around it and with pillars on which writings were graven.
That was when Egypt was called the Morning Land.

And many of the magicians of Egypt who had come with King Sesostris
stayed in that city of Aea, and they taught people spells that could
stay the moon in her going and coming, in her rising and setting.
Priests of the Moon ruled the city of Aea until King Æetes came.

Æetes had no need of their magic, for Helios, the bright Sun, was his
father, as he thought. Also, Hephaestus, the artisan of the gods, was
his friend, and Hephaestus made for him many wonderful things to be his
protection. Medea, too, his wise daughter, knew the secrets taught by
those who could sway the moon.

But Æetes once was made afraid by a dream that he had: he dreamt that a
ship had come up the Phasis, and then, sailing on a mist, had rammed
his palace that was standing there in all its strength and beauty until
it had fallen down. On the morning of the night that he had had this
dream Æetes called Medea, his wise daughter, and he bade her go to the
temple of Hecate, the Moon, and search out spells that might destroy
those who came against his city.

That morning the Argonauts, who had passed the night in the backwater
of the river, had two youths come to them. They were in a broken ship,
and they had one oar only. When Jason, after giving them food and fresh
garments, questioned them, he found out that these youths were of the
city of Aea, and that they were none others than the sons of
Phrixus--of Phrixus who had come there with the Golden Ram.

And the youths, Phrontis and Melas, were as amazed as was Jason when
they found out whose ship they had come aboard. For Jason was the
grandson of Cretheus, and Cretheus was the brother of Athamas, their
grandfather. They had ventured from Aea, where they had been reared,
thinking to reach the country of Athamas and lay claim to his
possessions. But they had been wrecked at a place not far from the
mouth of the Phasis, and with great pain and struggle they had made
their way back.

They were fearful of Aea and of their uncle King Æetes, and they would
gladly go with Jason and the Argonauts back to Greece. They would help
Jason, they said, to persuade Æetes to give the Golden Fleece peaceably
to them. Their mother was the daughter of Æetes--Chalciope, whom the
king had given in marriage to Phrixus, his guest.

A council of the Argonauts was held, and it was agreed that Jason
should go with two comrades to King Æetes, Phrontis and Melas going
also. They were to ask the king to give them the Golden Fleece and to
offer him a recompense. Jason took Peleus and Telamon with him.

As they came to the city a mist fell, and Jason and his comrades with
the sons of Phrixus went through the city without being seen. They came
before the palace of King Æetes. Then Phrontis and Melas were some way
behind. The mist lifted, and before the heroes was the wonder of the
palace in the bright light of the morning.

Vines with broad leaves and heavy clusters of fruit grew from column to
column, the columns holding a gallery up. And under the vines were the
four fountains that Hephaestus had made for King Æetes. They gushed out
into golden, silver, bronze, and iron basins. And one fountain gushed
out clear water, and another gushed out milk; another gushed out wine;
and another oil. On each side of the courtyard were the palace
buildings; in one King Æetes lived with Apsyrtus, his son, and in the
other Chalciope and Medea lived with their handmaidens.

Medea was passing from her father's house. The mist lifted suddenly and
she saw three strangers in the palace courtyard. One had a crimson
mantle on; his shoulders were such as to make him seem a man that a
whole world could not overthrow, and his eyes had all the sun's light
in them.

Amazed, Medea stood looking upon Jason, wondering at his bright hair
and gleaming eyes and at the lightness and strength of the hand that he
had raised. And then a dove flew toward her: it was being chased by a
hawk, and Medea saw the hawk's eyes and beak. As the dove lighted upon
her shoulder she threw her veil around it, and the hawk dashed itself
against a column. And as Medea, trembling, leaned against the column
she heard a cry from her sister, who was within.

For now Phrontis and Melas had come up, and Chalciope who was spinning
by the door saw them and cried out. All the servants rushed out. Seeing
Chalciope's sons there they, too, uttered loud cries, and made such
commotion that Apsyrtus and then King Æetes came out of the palace.

Jason saw King Æetes. He was old and white, but he had great green
eyes, and the strength of a leopard was in all he did. And Jason looked
upon Apsyrtus too; the son of Æetes looked like a Phoenician merchant,
black of beard and with rings in his ears, with a hooked nose and a
gleam of copper in his face.

Phrontis and Melas went from their mother's embrace and made reverence
to King Æetes. Then they spoke of the heroes who were with them, of
Jason and his two comrades. Æetes bade all enter the palace; baths were
made ready for them, and a banquet was prepared.

After the banquet, when they all sat together, Æetes addressing the
eldest of Chalciope's sons, said:

"Sons of Phrixus, of that man whom I honored above all men who came to
my halls, speak now and tell me how it is that you have come back to
Aea so soon, and who they are, these men who come with you?"

Æetes, as he spoke, looked sharply upon Phrontis and Melas, for he
suspected them of having returned to Aea, bringing these armed men with
them, with an evil intent. Phrontis looked at the King, and said:

"Æetes, our ship was driven upon the Island of Ares, where it was
almost broken upon the rocks. That was on a murky night, and in the
morning the birds of Ares shot their sharp feathers upon us. We pulled
away from that place, and thereafter we were driven by the winds back
to the mouth of the Phasis. There we met with these heroes who were
friendly to us. Who they are, what they have come to your city for, I
shall now tell you.

"A certain king, longing to drive one of these heroes from his land,
and hoping that the race of Cretheus might perish utterly, led him to
enter a most perilous adventure. He came here upon a ship that was made
by the command of Hera, the wife of Zeus, a ship more wonderful than
mortals ever sailed in before. With him there came the mightiest of the
heroes of Greece. He is Jason, the grandson of Cretheus, and he has
come to beg that you will grant him freely the famous Fleece of Gold
that Phrixus brought to Aea.

"But not without recompense to you would he take the Fleece. Already he
has heard of your bitter foes, the Sauromatae. He with his comrades
would subdue them for you. And if you would ask of the names and the
lineage of the heroes who are with Jason I shall tell you. This is
Peleus and this is Telamon; they are brothers, and they are sons of
AEacus, who was of the seed of Zeus. And all the other heroes who have
come with them are of the seed of the gods."

So Phrontis said, but the King was not placated by what he said. He
thought that the sons of Chalciope had returned to Aea bringing these
warriors with them so that they might wrest the kingship from him, or,
failing that, plunder the city. Æetes's heart was filled with wrath as
he looked upon them, and his eyes shone as a leopard's eyes.

"Begone from my sight," he cried, "robbers that ye are! Tricksters! If
you had not eaten at my table, assuredly I should have had your tongues
cut out for speaking falsehoods about the blessed gods, saying that
this one and that of your companions was of their divine race."

Telamon and Peleus strode forward with angry hearts; they would have
laid their hands upon King Æetes only Jason held them back. And then
speaking to the king in a quiet voice, Jason said:

"Bear with us, King Æetes, I pray you. We have not come with such evil
intent as you think. Ah, it was the evil command of an evil king that
sent me forth with these companions of mine across dangerous gulfs of
the sea, and to face your wrath and the armed men you can bring against
us. We are ready to make great recompense for the friendliness you may
show to us. We will subdue for you the Sauromatae, or any other people
that you would lord it over."

But Æetes was not made friendly by Jason's words. His heart was divided
as to whether he should summon his armed men and have them slain upon
the spot, or whether he should put them into danger by the trial he
would make of them.

At last he thought that it would be better to put them to the trial
that he had in mind, slaying them afterward if need be. And then he
spoke to Jason, saying:

"Strangers to Colchis, it may be true what my nephews have said. It may
be that ye are truly of the seed of the immortals. And it may be that I
shall give you the Golden Fleece to bear away after I have made trial
of you."

As he spoke Medea, brought there by his messenger so that she might
observe the strangers, came into the chamber. She entered softly and
she stood away from her father and the four who were speaking with him.
Jason looked upon her, and even although his mind was filled with the
thought of bending King Æetes to his will,  he saw what manner of
maiden she was, and what beauty and what strength  was hers.

She had a dark face that was made very strange by her crown of golden
hair. Her eyes, like her father's, were wide and full of light, and her
lips were so full and red that they made her mouth like an opening
rose. But her brows were always knit as if there was some secret anger
within her.

"With brave men I have no quarrel," said Æetes "I will make a trial of
your bravery, and if your bravery wins through the trial, be very sure
that you will have the Golden Fleece to bring back in triumph to Iolcus.

"But the trial that I would make of you is hard for a great hero even.
Know that on the plain of Ares yonder I have two fire-breathing bulls
with feet of brass. These bulls were once conquered by me; I yoked them
to a plow of adamant, and with them I plowed the field of Ares for four
plow-gates. Then I sowed the furrows, not with the seed that Demeter
gives, but with teeth of a dragon. And from the dragon's teeth that I
sowed in the field of Ares armed men sprang up. I slew them with my
spear as they rose around me to slay me. If you can accomplish this
that I accomplished in days gone by I shall submit to you and give you
the Golden Fleece. But if you cannot accomplish what I once
accomplished you shall go from my city empty-handed; for it is not
right that a brave man should yield aught to one who cannot show
himself as brave."

So Æetes said. Then Jason, utterly confounded, cast his eyes upon the
ground. He raised them to speak to the king, and as he did he found the
strange eyes of Medea upon him. With all the courage that was in him he
spoke:

"I will dare this contest, monstrous as it is. I will face this doom. I
have come far, and there is nothing else for me to do but to yoke your
fire-breathing bulls to the plow of adamant, and plow the furrows in
the field of Ares, and struggle with the Earth-born Men." As he said
this he saw the eyes of Medea grow wide as with fear.

Then Æetes, said, "Go back to your ship and make ready for the trial."
Jason, with Peleus and Telamon, left the chamber, and the king smiled
grimly as he saw them go. Phrontis and Melas went to where their mother
was. But Medea stayed, and Æetes looked upon her with his great
leopard's eyes. "My daughter, my wise Medea," he said, "go, put spells
upon the Moon, that Hecate may weaken that man in his hour of trial."
Medea turned away from her father's eyes, and went to her chamber.



II. MEDEA THE SORCERESS

She turned away from her father's eyes and she went into her own
chamber. For a long time she stood there with her hands clasped
together.  She heard the voice of Chalciope lamenting because Æetes had
taken a  hatred to her sons and might strive to destroy them. She heard
the voice of her sister lamenting, but Medea thought that the cause
that her sister  had for grieving was small compared with the cause
that she herself had.

She thought on the moment when she had seen Jason for the first
time--in the courtyard as the mist lifted and the dove flew to her; she
thought of him as he lifted those bright eyes of his; then she thought
of his voice as he spoke after her father had imposed the dreadful
trial upon him. She would have liked then to have cried out to him, "O
youth, if others rejoice at the doom that you go to, I do not rejoice."

Still her sister lamented. But how great was her own grief compared to
her sister's! For Chalciope could try to help her sons and could lament
for the danger they were in and no one would blame her. But she might
not strive to help Jason nor might she lament for the danger he was in.
How terrible it would be for a maiden to help a stranger against her
father's design! How terrible it would be for a woman of Colchis to
help a stranger against the will of the king! How terrible it would be
for a daughter to plot against King Æetes in his own palace!

And then Medea hated Aea, her city. She hated the furious people who
came together in the assembly, and she hated the brazen bulls that
Hephaestus had given her father. And then she thought that there was
nothing in Aea except the furious people and the fire-breathing bulls.
O how pitiful it was that the strange hero and his friends should have
come to such a place for the sake of the Golden Fleece that was watched
over by the sleepless serpent in the grove of Ares!

Still Chalciope lamented. Would Chalciope come to her and ask her,
Medea, to help her sons? If she should come she might speak of the
strangers, too, and of the danger they were in. Medea went to her couch
and lay down upon it. She longed for her sister to come to her or to
call to her.

But Chalciope stayed in her own chamber. Medea, lying upon her couch,
listened to her sister's laments. At last she went near where Chalciope
was. Then shame that she should think so much about the stranger came
over her. She stood there without moving; she turned to go back to the
couch, and then trembled so much that she could not stir. As she stood
between her couch and her sister's chamber she heard the voice of
Chalciope calling to her.

She went into the chamber where her sister stood. Chalciope flung her
arms around her. "Swear," said she to Medea, "swear by Hecate, the
Moon, that you will never speak of something I am going to ask you."
Medea swore that she would never speak of it.

Chalciope spoke of the danger her sons were in. She asked Medea to
devise a way by which they could escape with the stranger from Aea. "In
Aea and in Colchis," she said, "there will be no safety for my sons
henceforth." And to save Phrontis and Melas, she said, Medea would have
to save the strangers also. Surely she knew of a charm that would save
the stranger from the brazen bulls in the contest on the morrow!

So Chalciope came to the very thing that was in Medea's mind. Her heart
bounded with joy and she embraced her. "Chalciope," she said, "I
declare that I am your sister, indeed--aye, and your daughter, too, for
did you not care for me when I was an infant? I will strive to save
your sons. I will strive to save the strangers who came with your sons.
Send one to the strangers--send him to the leader of the strangers, and
tell him that I would see him at daybreak in the temple of Hecate."

When Medea said this Chalciope embraced her again. She was amazed to
see how Medea's tears were flowing. "Chalciope," she said, "no one will
know the dangers that I shall go through to save them."

Swiftly then Chalciope went from the chamber. But Medea stayed there
with her head bowed and the blush of shame on her face. She thought
that already she had deceived her sister, making her think that it was
Phrontis and Melas and not Jason that was in her mind to save. And she
thought on how she would have to plot against her father and against
her own people, and all for the sake of a stranger who would sail away
without thought of her, without the image of her in his mind.

Jason, with Peleus and Telamon, went back to the Argo. His comrades
asked how he had fared, and when he spoke to them of the fire-breathing
bulls with feet of brass, of the dragon's teeth that had to be sown,
and of the Earth-born Men that had to be overcome, the Argonauts were
greatly cast down, for this task, they thought, was one that could not
be accomplished. He who stood before the fire-breathing bulls would
perish on the moment. But they knew that one amongst them must strive
to accomplish the task. And if Jason held back, Peleus, Telamon,
Theseus, Castor, Polydeuces, or any one of the others would undertake
it.

But Jason would not hold back. On the morrow, he said, he would strive
to yoke the fire-breathing, brazen-footed bulls to the plow of adamant.
If he perished the Argonauts should then do what they thought was
best--make other trials to gain the Golden Fleece, or turn their ship
and sail back to Greece.

While they were speaking, Phrontis, Chalciope's son, came to the ship.
The Argonauts welcomed him, and in a while he began to speak of his
mother's sister and of the help she could give. They grew eager as he
spoke of her, all except rough Arcas, who stood wrapped in his bear's
skin. "Shame on us," rough Arcas cried, "shame on us if we have come
here to crave the help of girls! Speak no more of this! Let us, the
Argonauts, go with swords into the city of Aea, and slay this king, and
carry off the Fleece of Gold."

Some of the Argonauts murmured approval of what Arcas said. But Orpheus
silenced him and them, for in his prophetic mind Orpheus saw something
of the help that Medea would give them. It would be well, Orpheus said,
to take help from this wise maiden; Jason should go to her in the
temple of Hecate. The Argonauts agreed to this; they listened to what
Phrontis told them about the brazen bulls, and the night wore on.

When darkness came upon the earth; when, at sea, sailors looked to the
Bear arid the stars of Orion; when, in the city, there was no longer
the sound of barking dogs nor of men's voices, Medea went from the
palace. She came to a path; she followed it until it brought her into
the part of the grove that was all black with the shadow that oak trees
made.

She raised up her hands and she called upon Hecate, the Moon. As she
did, there was a blaze as from torches all around, and she saw horrible
serpents stretching themselves toward her from the branches of the
trees. Medea shrank back in fear. But again she called upon Hecate. And
now there was a howling as from the hounds of Hades all around her.
Fearful, indeed, Medea grew as the howling came near her; almost she
turned to flee. But she raised her hands again and called upon Hecate.
Then the nymphs who haunted the marsh and the river shrieked, and at
those shrieks Medea crouched down in fear.

She called upon Hecate, the Moon, again. She saw the moon rise above
the treetops, and then the hissing and shrieking and howling died away.
Holding up a goblet in her hand Medea poured out a libation of honey to
Hecate, the Moon.

And then she went to where the moon made a brightness upon the ground.
There she saw a flower that rose above the other flowers--a flower that
grew from two joined stalks, and that was of the color of a crocus.
Medea cut the stalks with a brazen knife, and as she did there came a
deep groan out of the earth.

This was the Promethean flower. It had come out of the earth first when
the vulture that tore at Prometheus's liver had let fall to earth a
drop of his blood. With a Caspian shell that she had brought with her
Medea gathered the dark juice of this flower--the juice that went to
make her most potent charm. All night she went through the grove
gathering the juice of secret herbs; then she mingled them in a phial
that she put away in her girdle.

She went from that grove and along the river. When the sun shed its
first rays upon snowy Caucasus she stood outside the temple of Hecate.
She waited, but she had not long to wait, for, like the bright star
Sirius rising out of Ocean, soon she saw Jason coming toward her. She
made a sign to him, and he came and stood beside her in the portals of
the temple.

They would have stood face to face if Medea did not have her head bent.
A blush had come upon her face, and Jason seeing it, and seeing how her
head was bent, knew how grievous it was to her to meet and speak to a
stranger in this way. He took her hand and he spoke to her reverently,
as one would speak to a priestess.

"Lady," he said, "I implore you by Hecate and by Zeus who helps all
strangers and suppliants to be kind to me and to the men who have come
to your country with me. Without your help I cannot hope to prevail in
the grievous trial that has been laid upon me. If you will help us,
Medea, your name will be renowned throughout all Greece. And I have
hopes that you will help us, for your face and form show you to be one
who can be kind and gracious."

The blush of shame had gone from Medea's face and a softer blush came
over her as Jason spoke. She looked upon him and she knew that she
could hardly live if the breath of the brazen bulls withered his life
or if the Earth-born Men slew him. She took the charm from out her
girdle; ungrudgingly she put it into Jason's hands. And as she gave him
the charm that she had gained with such danger, the fear and trouble
that was around her heart melted as the dew melts from around the rose
when it is warmed by the first light of the morning.

Then they spoke standing close together in the portal of the temple.
She told him how he should anoint his body all over with the charm; it
would give him, she said, boundless and untiring strength, and make him
so that the breath of the bulls could not wither him nor the horns of
the bulls pierce him. She told him also to sprinkle his shield and his
sword with the charm.

And then they spoke of the dragon's teeth and of the Earth-born Men who
would spring from them. Medea told Jason that when they arose out of
the earth he was to cast a great stone amongst them. The Earth-born Men
would struggle about the stone, and they would slay each other in the
contest.

Her dark and delicate face was beautiful. Jason looked upon her, and it
came into his mind that in Colchis there was something else of worth
besides the Golden Fleece. And he thought that after he had won the
Fleece there would be peace between the Argonauts and King Æetes, and
that he and Medea might sit together in the king's hall. But when he
spoke of being joined in friendship with her father, Medea cried:

"Think not of treaties nor of covenants. In Greece such are regarded,
but not here. Ah, do not think that the king, my father, will keep any
peace with you! When you have won the Fleece you must hasten away. You
must not tarry in Aea."

She said this and her cheeks were wet with tears to think that he
should go so soon, that he would go so far, and that she would never
look upon him again. She bent her head again and she said: "Tell me
about your own land; about the place of your father, the place where
you will live when you win back from Colchis."

Then Jason told her of Icolus; he told her how it was circled by
mountains not so lofty as her Caucasus; he told her of the pasture
lands of Iolcus with their flocks of sheep; he told her of the Mountain
Pelion where he had been reared by Chiron, the ancient centaur; he told
her of his father who lingered out his life in waiting for his return.

Medea said: "When you go back to Iolcus do not forget me, Medea. I
shall remember you, Jason, even in my father's despite. And it will be
my hope that some rumor of you will come to me like some
messenger-bird. If you forget me may some blast of wind sweep me away
to Iolcus, and may I sit in your hall an unknown and an unexpected
guest!"

Then they parted; Medea went swiftly back to the palace, and Jason,
turning to the river, went to where the Argo was moored.

The heroes embraced and questioned him; he told them of Medea's counsel
and he showed them the charm she had given him. That savage man Arcas
scoffed at Medea's counsel and Medea's charm, saying that the Argonauts
had become poor-spirited indeed when they had to depend upon a girl's
help.

Jason bathed in the river; then he anointed himself with the charm; he
sprinkled his spear and shield and sword with it. He came to Arcas who
sat upon his bench, still nursing his anger, and he held the spear
toward him.

Arcas took up his heavy sword and he hewed at the butt of the spear.
The edge of the sword turned. The blade leaped back in his hand as if
it had been struck against an anvil. And Jason, feeling within him a
boundless and tireless strength, laughed aloud.



III. THE WINNING OF THE GOLDEN FLEECE

They took the ship out of the backwater and they brought her to a wharf
in the city. At a place that was called "The Ram's Couch" they fastened
the Argo. Then they marched to the field of Ares, where the king and
the Colchian people were.

Jason, carrying his shield and spear, went before the king. From the
king's hand he took the gleaming helmet that held the dragon's teeth.
This he put into the hands of Theseus, who went with him. Then with the
spear and shield in his hands, with his sword girt across his
shoulders, and with his mantle stripped off, Jason looked across the
field of Ares.

He saw the plow that he was to yoke to the bulls; he saw the yoke of
bronze near it; he saw the tracks of the bulls' hooves. He followed the
tracks until he came to the lair of the fire-breathing bulls. Out of
that lair, which was underground, smoke and fire belched. He set his
feet firmly upon the ground and he held his shield before him. He
awaited the onset of the bulls. They came clanging up with loud
bellowing, breathing out fire.  They lowered their heads, and with
mighty, iron-tipped horns they  came to gore and trample him.

Medea's charm had made him strong; Medea's charm had made his shield
impregnable. The rush of the bulls did not overthrow him. His comrades
shouted to see him standing firmly there, and in wonder the Colchians
gazed upon him. All round him, as from a furnace, there came smoke and
fire.

The bulls roared mightily. Grasping the horns of the bull that was upon
his right hand, Jason dragged him until he had brought him beside the
yoke of bronze. Striking the brazen knees of the bull suddenly with his
foot he forced him down. Then he smote the other bull as it rushed upon
him, and it too he forced down upon its knees.

Castor and Polydeuces held the yoke to him. Jason bound it upon the
necks of the bulls. He fastened the plow to the yoke. Then he took his
shield and set it upon his back, and grasping the handles of the plow
he started to make the furrow.

With his long spear he drove the bulls before him as with a goad.
Terribly they raged, furiously they breathed out fire. Beside Jason
Theseus went holding the helmet that held the dragon's teeth. The hard
ground was torn up by the plow of adamant, and the clods groaned as
they were cast up. Jason flung the teeth between the open sods, often
turning his head in fear that the deadly crop of the Earth-born Men
were rising behind him.

By the time that a third of the day was finished the field of Ares had
been plowed and sown. As yet the furrows were free of the Earth-born
Men. Jason went down to the river and filled his helmet full of water
and drank deeply. And his knees that were stiffened with the plowing he
bent until they were made supple again.

He saw the field rising into mounds. It seemed that there were graves
all over the field of Ares. Then he saw spears and shields and helmets
rising up out of the earth. Then armed warriors sprang up, a fierce
battle cry upon their lips.

Jason remembered the counsel of Medea. He raised a boulder that four
men could hardly raise and with arms hardened by the plowing he cast
it. The Colchians shouted to see such a stone cast by the hands of one
man. Right into the middle of the Earth-born Men the stone came. They
leaped upon it like hounds, striking at one another as they came
together. Shield crashed on shield, spear rang upon spear as they
struck at each other. The Earth-born Men, as fast as they arose, went
down before the weapons in the hands of their brethren.

Jason rushed upon them, his sword in his hand. He slew some that had
risen out of the earth only as far as the shoulders; he slew others
whose feet were still in the earth; he slew others who were ready to
spring upon him. Soon all the Earth-born Men were slain, and the
furrows ran with their dark blood as channels run with water in
springtime.

The Argonauts shouted loudly for Jason's victory. King Æetes rose from
his seat that was beside the river and he went back to the city. The
Colchians followed him. Day faded, and Jason's contest was ended.

But it was not the will of Æetes that the strangers should be let
depart peaceably with the Golden Fleece that Jason had won. In the
assembly place, with his son Apsyrtus beside him, and with the furious
Colchians all around him, the king stood: on his breast was the
gleaming corselet that Ares had given him, and on his head was that
golden helmet with its four plumes that made him look as if he were
truly the son of Helios, the Sun. Lightnings flashed from his great
eyes; he spoke fiercely to the Colchians, holding in his hand his
bronze-topped spear.

He would have them attack the strangers and burn the Argo. He would
have the sons of Phrixus slain for bringing them to Aea. There was a
prophecy, he declared, that would have him be watchful of the treachery
of his own offspring: this prophecy was being fulfilled by the children
of Chalciope; he feared, too, that his daughter, Medea, had aided the
strangers. So the king spoke, and the Colchians, hating all strangers,
shouted around him.

Word of what her father had said was brought to Medea. She knew that
she would have to go to the Argonauts and bid them flee hastily from
Aea. They would not go, she knew, without the Golden Fleece; then she,
Medea, would have to show them how to gain the Fleece.

Then she could never again go back to her father's palace, she could
never again sit in this chamber and talk to her handmaidens, and be
with Chalciope, her sister. Forever afterward she would be dependent on
the kindness of strangers. Medea wept when she thought of all this. And
then she cut off a tress of her hair and she left it in her chamber as
a farewell from one who was going afar. Into the chamber where
Chalciope was she whispered farewell.

The palace doors were all heavily bolted, but Medea did not have to
pull back the bolts. As she chanted her Magic Song the bolts softly
drew back, the doors softly opened. Swiftly she went along the ways
that led to the river. She came to where fires were blazing and she
knew that the Argonauts were there.

She called to them, and Phrontis, Chalciope's son, heard the cry and
knew the voice. To Jason he spoke, and Jason quickly went to where
Medea stood.

She clasped Jason's hand and she drew him with her. "The Golden
Fleece," she said, "the time has come when you must pluck the Golden
Fleece off the oak in the grove of Ares." When she said these words all
Jason's being became taut like the string of a bow.

It was then the hour when huntsmen cast sleep from their eyes--huntsmen
who never sleep away the end of the night, but who are ever ready to be
up and away with their hounds before the beams of the sun efface the
track and the scent of the quarry. Along a path that went from the
river Medea drew Jason. They entered a grove. Then Jason saw something
that was like a cloud filled with the light of the rising sun. It hung
from a great oak tree. In awe he stood and looked upon it, knowing that
at last he looked upon THE GOLDEN FLEECE.

His hand let slip Medea's hand and he went to seize the Fleece. As he
did he heard a dreadful hiss. And then he saw the guardian of the
Golden Fleece. Coiled all around the tree, with outstretched neck and
keen and sleepless eyes, was a deadly serpent. Its hiss ran all through
the grove and the birds that were wakening up squawked in terror.

Like rings of smoke that rise one above the other, the coils of the
serpent went around the tree--coils covered by hard and gleaming
scales. It uncoiled, stretched itself, and lifted its head to strike.
Then Medea dropped on her knees before it, and began to chant her Magic
Song.

As she sang, the coils around the tree grew slack. Like a dark,
noiseless wave the serpent sank down on the ground. But still its jaws
were open, and those dreadful jaws threatened Jason. Medea, with a
newly cut spray of juniper dipped in a mystic brew, touched its deadly
eyes. And still she chanted her Magic Song. The serpent's jaws closed;
its eyes became deadened; far through the grove its length was
stretched out.

Then Jason took the Golden Fleece. As he raised his hands to it, its
brightness was such as to make a flame on his face. Medea called to
him. He strove to gather it all up in his arms; Medea was beside him,
and they went swiftly on.

They came to the river and down to the place where the Argo was moored.
The heroes who were aboard started up, astonished to see the Fleece
that shone as with the lightning of Zeus. Over Medea Jason cast it, and
he lifted her aboard the Argo.

"O friends," he cried, "the quest on which we dared the gulfs of the
sea and the wrath of kings is accomplished, thanks to the help of this
maiden. Now may we return to Greece; now have we the hope of looking
upon our fathers and our friends once more. And in all honor will we
bring this maiden with us, Medea, the daughter of King Æetes."

Then he drew his sword and cut the hawsers of the ship, calling upon
the heroes to drive the Argo on. There was a din and a strain and a
splash of oars, and away from Aea the Argo dashed. Beside the mast
Medea stood; the Golden Fleece had fallen at her feet, and her head and
face were covered by her silver veil.



IV. THE SLAYING OF APSYRTUS

That silver veil was to be splashed with a brother's blood, and the
Argonauts, because of that calamity, were for a long time to be held
back from a return to their native land.

Now as they went down the river they saw that dangers were coming
swiftly upon them. The chariots of the Colchians were upon the banks.
Jason saw King Æetes in his chariot, a blazing torch lighting his
corselet and his helmet. Swiftly the Argo went, but there were ships
behind her, and they went swiftly too.

They came into the Sea of Pontus, and Phrontis, the son of Phrixus,
gave counsel to them. "Do not strive to make the passage of the
Symplegades," he said. "All who live around the Sea of Pontus are
friendly to King Æetes they will be warned by him, and they will be
ready to slay us and take the Argo. Let us journey up the River Ister,
and by that way we can come to the Thrinacian Sea that is close to your
land."

The Argonauts thought well of what Phrontis said; into the waters of
the Ister the ship was brought. Many of the Colchian ships passed by
the mouth of the river, and went seeking the Argo toward the passage of
the Symplegades.

But the Argonauts were on a way that was dangerous for them. For
Apsyrtus had not gone toward the Symplegades seeking the Argo. He had
led his soldiers overland to the River Ister at a place that was at a
distance above its mouth. There were islands in the river at that
place, and the soldiers of Apsyrtus landed on the islands, while
Apsyrtus went to the kings of the people around and claimed their
support.

The Argo came and the heroes found themselves cut off. They could not
make their way between the islands that were filled with the Colchian
soldiers, nor along the banks that were lined with men friendly to King
Æetes. Argo was stayed. Apsyrtus sent for the chiefs; he had men enough
to overwhelm them, but he shrank from a fight with the heroes, and he
thought that he might gain all he wanted from them without a struggle.

Theseus and Peleus went to him. Apsyrtus would have them give up the
Golden Fleece; he would have them give up Medea and the sons of Phrixus
also.

Theseus and Peleus appealed to the judgment of the kings who supported
Apsyrtus. Æetes, they said, had no more claim on the Golden Fleece. He
had promised it to Jason as a reward for tasks that he had imposed. The
tasks had been accomplished and the Fleece, no matter in what way it
was taken from the grove of Ares, was theirs. So Theseus and Peleus
said, and the kings who supported Apsyrtus gave judgment for the
Argonauts.

But Medea would have to be given to her brother. If that were done the
Argo would be let go on her course, Apsyrtus said, and the Golden
Fleece would be left with them. Apsyrtus said, too, that he would not
take Medea back to the wrath of her father; if the Argonauts gave her
up she would be let stay on the island of Artemis and under the
guardianship of the goddess.

The chiefs brought Apsyrtus's words back. There was a council of the
Argonauts, and they agreed that they should leave Medea on the island
of Artemis.

But grief and wrath took hold of Medea when she heard of this resolve.
Almost she would burn the Argo. She went to where Jason stood, and she
spoke again of all she had done to save his life and win the Golden
Fleece for the Argonauts. Jason made her look on the ships and the
soldiers that were around them; he showed her how these could overwhelm
the Argonauts and slay them all. With all the heroes slain, he said,
Medea would come into the hands of Apsyrtus, who then could leave her
on the island of Artemis or take her back to the wrath of her father.

But Medea would not consent to go nor could Jason's heart consent to
let her go. Then these two made a plot to deceive Apsyrtus.

"I have not been of the council that agreed to give you up to him,"
Jason said. "After you have been left there I will take you off the
island of Artemis secretly. The Colchians and the kings who support
them, not knowing that you have been taken off and hidden on the Argo,
will let us pass." This Medea and Jason planned to do, and it was an
ill thing, for it was breaking the covenant that the chiefs had entered
with Apsyrtus.

Medea then was left by the Argonauts on the island of Artemis. Now
Apsyrtus had been commanded by his father to bring her back to Aea; he
thought that when she had been left by the Argonauts he could force her
to come with him. So he went over to the island. Jason, secretly
leaving his companions, went to the island from the other side.

Before the temple of Artemis Jason and Apsyrtus came face to face. Both
men, thinking they had been betrayed to their deaths, drew their
swords. Then, before the vestibule of the temple and under the eyes of
Medea, Jason and Apsyrtus fought. Jason's sword pierced the son of
Æetes as he fell Apsyrtus cried out bitter words against Medea, saying
that it was on her account that he had come on his death. And as he
fell the blood of her brother splashed Medea's silver veil.

Jason lifted Medea up and carried her to the Argo. They hid the maiden
under the Fleece of Gold and they sailed past the ships of the
Colchians. When darkness came they were far from the island of Artemis.
It was then that they heard a loud wailing, and they knew that the
Colchians had discovered that their prince had been slain.

The Colchians did not pursue them. Fearing the wrath of Æetes they made
settlements in the lands of the kings who had supported A Apsyrtus;
they never went back to Aea; they called themselves Apsyrtians
henceforward, naming themselves after the prince they had come with.

They had escaped the danger that had hemmed them in, but the Argonauts,
as they sailed on, were not content; covenants had been broken, and
blood had been shed in a bad cause. And as they went on through the
darkness the voice of the ship was heard; at the sound of that voice
fear and sorrow came upon the voyagers, for they felt that it had a
prophecy of doom.

Castor and Polydeuces went to the front of the ship; holding up their
hands, they prayed. Then they heard the words that the voice uttered:
in the night as they went on the voice proclaimed the wrath of Zeus on
account of the slaying of Apsyrtus.

What was their doom to be? It was that the Argonauts would have to
wander forever over the gulfs of the sea unless Medea had herself
cleansed of her brother's blood. There was one who could cleanse
Medea--Circe, the daughter of Helios and Perse. The voice urged the
heroes to pray to the immortal gods that the way to the island of Circe
be shown to them.



V. MEDEA COMES TO CIRCE

They sailed up the River Ister until they came to the Eridanus, that
river across which no bird can fly. Leaving the Eridanus they entered
the Rhodanus, a river that rises in the extreme north, where Night
herself has her habitation. And voyaging up this river they came to the
Stormy Lakes. A mist lay upon the lakes night and day; voyaging through
them the Argonauts at last brought out their ship upon the Sea of
Ausonia.

It was Zetes and Calais, the sons of the North Wind, who brought the
Argo safely along this dangerous course. And to Zetes and Calais Iris,
the messenger of the gods, appeared and revealed to them where Circe's
island lay.

Deep blue water was all around that island, and on its height a marble
house was to be seen. But a strange haze covered everything as with a
veil. As the Argonauts came near they saw what looked to them like
great dragonflies; they came down to the shore, and then the heroes saw
that they were maidens in gleaming dresses.

The maidens waved their hands to the voyagers, calling them to come on
the island. Strange beasts came up to where the maidens were and made
whimpering cries.

The Argonauts would have drawn the ship close and would have sprung
upon the island only that Medea cried out to them. She showed them the
beasts that whimpered around the maidens, and then, as the Argonauts
looked upon them, they saw that these were not beasts of the wild.
There was something strange and fearful about them; the heroes gazed
upon them with troubled eyes. They brought the ship near, but they
stayed upon their benches, holding the oars in their hands.

Medea sprang to the island; she spoke to the maidens so that they
shrank away; then the beasts came and whimpered around her. "Forbear to
land here, O Argonauts," Medea cried, "for this is the island where men
are changed into beasts." She called to Jason to come; only Jason would
she have come upon the island.

They went swiftly toward the marble house, and the beasts followed
them, looking up at Jason and Medea with pitiful human eyes. They went
into the marble house of Circe, and as suppliants they seated
themselves at the hearth.

Circe stood at her loom, weaving her many-colored threads. Swiftly she
turned to the suppliants; she looked for something strange in them, for
just before they came the walls of her house dripped with blood and the
flame ran over and into her pot, burning up all the magic herbs she was
brewing. She went toward where they sat, Medea with her face hidden by
her hands, and Jason, with his head bent,--holding with its point in
the ground the sword with which he had slain the son of Æetes When
Medea took her hands away from before her face, Circe knew that, like
herself, this maiden was of the race of Helios. Medea spoke to her,
telling her first of the voyage of the heroes and of their toils;
telling her then of how she had given help to Jason against the will of
Æetes her father; telling her then, fearfully, of the slaying of
Apsyrtus. She covered her face with her robe as she spoke of it. And
then she told Circe she had come, warned by the judgment of Zeus, to
ask of Circe, the daughter of Helios, to purify her from the stain of
her brother's blood.

Like all the children of Helios, Circe had eyes that were wide and full
of life, but she had stony lips--lips that were heavy and moveless.
Bright golden hair hung smoothly along each of her sides. First she
held a cup to them that was filled with pure water, and Jason and Medea
drank from that cup.

Then Circe stayed by the hearth; she burnt cakes in the flame, and all
the while she prayed to Zeus to be gentle with these suppliants. She
brought both to the seashore. There she washed Medea's body and her
garments with the spray of the sea.

Medea pleaded with Circe to tell her of the life she foresaw for her,
but Circe would not speak of it. She told Medea that one day she would
meet a woman who knew nothing about enchantments but who had much human
wisdom. She was to ask of her what she was to do in her life or what
she was to leave undone. And whatever this woman out of her wisdom told
her, that Medea was to regard. Once more Circe offered them the cup
filled with clear water, and when they had drunken of it she left them
upon the seashore. As she went toward her marble house the strange
beasts followed Circe, whimpering as they went. Jason and Medea went
aboard the Argo, and the heroes drew away from Circe's island.



VI. IN THE LAND OF THE PHAEACIANS

Wearied were the heroes now. They would have fain gone upon the island
of Circe to rest there away from the oars and the sound of the sea. But
the wisest of them, looking upon the beasts that were men transformed,
held the Argo far off the shore. Then Jason and Medea came aboard, and
with heavy hearts and wearied arms they turned to the open sea again.

No longer had they such high hearts as when they drove the Argo between
the Clashers and into the Sea of Pontus. Now their heads drooped as
they went on, and they sang such songs as slaves sing in their hopeless
labor. Orpheus grew fearful for them now.

For Orpheus knew that they were drawing toward a danger. There was no
other way for them, he knew, but past the Island Anthemoessa in the
Tyrrhenian Sea where the Sirens were.

Once they had been nymphs and had tended Persephone before she was
carried off by Aidoneus to be his queen in the Underworld. Kind they
had been, but now they were changed, and they cared only for the
destruction of men.

All set around with rocks was the island where they were. As the Argo
came near, the Sirens, ever on the watch to draw mariners to their
destruction, saw them and came to the rocks and sang to them, holding
each other's hands.

They sang all together their lulling song. That song made the wearied
voyagers long to let their oars go with the waves, and drift, drift to
where the Sirens were. Bending down to them the Sirens, with soft hands
and white arms, would lift them to soft resting places. Then each of
the Sirens sang a clear, piercing song that called to each of the
voyagers. Each man thought that his own name was in that song. "O how
well it is that you have come near," each one sang, "how well it is
that you have come near where I have awaited you, having all delight
prepared for you!"

Orpheus took up his lyre as the Sirens began to sing. He sang to the
heroes of their own toils. He sang of them, how, gaunt and weary as
they were, they were yet men, men who were the strength of Greece, men
who had been fostered by the love and hope of their country. They were
the winners of the Golden Fleece and their story would be told forever.
And for the fame that they had won men would forego all rest and all
delight. Why should they not toil, they who were born for great labors
and to face dangers that other men might not face? Soon hands would be
stretched out to them--the welcoming hands of the men and women of
their own land.

So Orpheus sang, and his voice and the music of his lyre prevailed
above the Sirens' voices. Men dropped their oars, but other men
remained at their benches, and pulled steadily, if wearily, on. Only
one of the Argonauts, Butes, a youth of Iolcus, threw himself into the
water and swam toward the rocks from which the Sirens sang.

But an anguish that nearly parted their spirits from their bodies was
upon them as they went wearily on. Toward the end of the day they
beheld another island--an island that seemed very fair; they longed to
land and rest themselves there and eat the fruits of the island. But
Orpheus would not have them land. The island, he said, was Thrinacia.
Upon that island the Cattle of the Sun pastured, and if one of the
cattle perished through them their return home might not be won. They
heard the lowing of the cattle through the mist, and a deep longing for
the sight of their own fields, with a white house near, and flocks and
herds at pasture, came over the heroes. They came near the Island of
Thrinacia, and they saw the Cattle of the Sun feeding by the meadow
streams; not one of them was black; all were white as milk, and the
horns upon their heads were golden. They saw the two nymphs who herded
the kine--Phaethusa and Lampetia, one with a staff of silver and the
other with a staff of gold.

Driven by the breeze that came over the Thrinacian Sea the Argonauts
came to the land of the Phaeacians. It was a good land as they saw when
they drew near; a land of orchards and fresh pastures, with a white and
sun-lit city upon the height. Their spirits came back to them as they
drew into the harbor; they made fast the hawsers, and they went upon
the ways of the city.

And then they saw everywhere around them the dark faces of Colchian
soldiers. These were the men of King Æetes, and they had come overland
to the Phaeacian city, hoping to cut off the Argonauts. Jason, when he
saw the soldiers, shouted to those who had been left on the Argo, and
they drew out of the harbor, fearful lest the Colchians should grapple
with the ship and wrest from them the Fleece of Gold. Then Jason made
an encampment upon the shore, and the captain of the Colchians went
here and there, gathering together his men.

Medea left Jason's side and hastened through the city. To the palace of
Alcinous, king of the Phaeacians, she went. Within the palace she found
Arete, the queen. And Arete was sitting by her hearth, spinning golden
and silver threads.

Arete was young at that time, as young as Medea, and as yet no child
had been born to her. But she had the clear eyes of one who
understands, and who knows how to order things well. Stately, too, was
Arete, for she had been reared in the house of a great king. Medea came
to her, and fell upon her knees before her, and told her how she had
fled from the house of her father, King Æetes.

She told Arete, too, how she had helped Jason to win the Golden Fleece,
and she told her how through her her brother had been led to his death.
As she told this part of her story she wept and prayed at the knees of
the queen.

Arete was greatly moved by Medea's tears and prayers. She went to
Alcinous in his garden, and she begged of him to save the Argonauts
from the great force of the Colchians that had come to cut them off.
"The Golden Fleece," said Arete, "has been won by the tasks that Jason
performed. If the Colchians should take Medea, it would be to bring her
back to Aea and to a bitter doom. And the maiden," said the queen, "has
broken my heart by her prayers and tears."

King Alcinous said: "Æetes is strong, and although his kingdom is far
from ours, he can bring war upon us." But still Arete pleaded with him
to protect Medea from the Colchians. Alcinous went within; he raised up
Medea from where she crouched on the floor of the palace, and he
promised her that the Argonauts would be protected in his city.

Then the king mounted his chariot; Medea went with him, and they came
down to the seashore where the heroes had made their encampment. The
Argonauts and the Colchians were drawn up against each other, and the
Colchians far outnumbered the wearied heroes.

Alcinous drove his chariot between the two armies. The Colchians prayed
him to have the strangers make surrender to them. But the king drove
his chariot to where the heroes stood, and he took the hand of each,
and received them as his guests. Then the Colchians knew that they
might not make war upon the heroes. They drew off. The next day they
marched away.

It was a rich land that they had come to. Once Aristaeus dwelt there,
the king who discovered how to make bees store up their honey for men
and how to make the good olive grow. Macris, his daughter, tended
Dionysus, the son of Zeus, when Hermes brought him of the flame, and
moistened his lips with honey. She tended him in a cave in the
Phaeacian land, and ever afterward the Phaeacians were blessed with all
good things.

Now as the heroes marched to the palace of King Alcinous the people
came to meet them, bringing them sheep and calves and jars of wine and
honey. The women brought them fresh garments; to Medea they gave fine
linen and golden ornaments.

Amongst the Phaeacians who loved music and games and the telling of
stories the heroes stayed for long. There were dances, and to the
Phaeacians who honored him as a god, Orpheus played upon his lyre. And
every day, for the seven days that they stayed amongst them, the
Phaeacians brought rich presents to the heroes.

And Medea, looking into the clear eyes of Queen Arete, knew that she
was the woman of whom Circe had prophesied, the woman who knew nothing
of enchantments, but who had much human wisdom. She was to ask of her
what she was to do in her life and what she was to leave undone. And
what this woman told her Medea was to regard. Arete told her that she
was to forget all the witcheries and enchantments that she knew, and
that she was never to practice against the life of any one. This she
told Medea upon the shore, before Jason lifted her aboard the Argo.



VII. THEY COME TO THE DESERT LAND

And now with sail spread wide the Argo went on, and the heroes rested
at the oars. The wind grew stronger. It became a great blast, and for
nine days and nine nights the ship was driven fearfully along.

The blast drove them into the Gulf of Libya, from whence there is no
return for ships. On each side of the gulf there are rocks and shoals,
and the sea runs toward the limitless sand. On the top of a mighty tide
the Argo was lifted, and she was flung high up on the desert sands.

A flood tide such as might not come again for long left the Argonauts
on the empty Libyan land. And when they came forth and saw that vast
level of sand stretching like a mist away into the distance, a deadly
fear came over each of them. No spring of water could they descry; no
path; no herdsman's cabin; over all that vast land there was silence
and dead calm. And one said to the other: "What land is this? Whither
have we come? Would that the tempest had overwhelmed us, or would that
we had lost the ship and our lives between the Clashing Rocks at the
time when we were making our way into the Sea of Pontus."

And the helmsman, looking before him, said with a breaking heart: "Out
of this we may not come, even should the breeze blow from the land, for
all around us are shoals and sharp rocks--rocks that we can see
fretting the water, line upon line. Our ship would have been shattered
far from the shore if the tide had not borne her far up on the sand.
But now the tide rushes back toward the sea, leaving only foam on which
no ship can sail to cover the sand. And so all hope of our return is
cut off."

He spoke with tears flowing upon his cheeks, and all who had knowledge
of ships agreed with what the helmsman had said. No dangers that they
had been through were as terrible as this. Hopelessly, like lifeless
specters, the heroes strayed about the endless strand.

They embraced each other and they said farewell as they laid down upon
the sand that might blow upon them and overwhelm them in the night.
They wrapped their heads in their cloaks, and, fasting, they laid
themselves down.

Jason crouched beside the ship, so troubled that his life nearly went
from him. He saw Medea huddled against a rock and with her hair
streaming on the sand. He saw the men who, with all the bravery of
their lives, had come with him, stretched on the desert sand, weary and
without hope. He thought that they, the best of men, might die in this
desert with their deeds all unknown; he thought that he might never win
home with Medea, to make her his queen in Iolcus.

He lay against the side of the ship, his cloak wrapped around his head.
And there death would have come to him and to the others if the nymphs
of the desert had been unmindful of these brave men. They came to
Jason. It was midday then, and the fierce rays of the sun were
scorching all Libya. They drew off the cloak that wrapped his head;
they stood near him, three nymphs girded around with goatskins.

"Why art thou so smitten with despair?" the nymphs said to Jason. "Why
art thou smitten with despair, thou who hast wrought so much and hast
won so much? Up! Arouse thy comrades! We are the solitary nymphs, the
warders of the land of Libya, and we have come to show a way of escape
to you, the Argonauts.

"Look around and watch for the time when Poseidon's great horse shall
be unloosed. Then make ready to pay recompense to the mother that bore
you all. What she did for you all, that you all must do for her; by
doing it you will win back to the land of Greece." Jason heard them say
these words and then he saw them no more; the nymphs vanished amongst
the desert mounds.

Then Jason rose up. He did not know what to make out of what had been
told him, but there was courage now and hope in his heart. He shouted;
his voice was like the roar of a lion calling to his mate. At his shout
his comrades roused themselves; all squalid with the dust of the desert
the Argonauts stood around him.

"Listen, comrades, to me," Jason said, "while I speak of a strange
thing that has befallen me. While I lay by the side of our ship three
nymphs came before me. With light hands they drew away the cloak that
wrapped my head. They declared themselves to be the solitary nymphs,
the warders, of Libya. Very strange were the words they said to me.
When Poseidon's great horse shall be unloosed, they said, we were to
make the mother of us all a recompense, doing for her what she had done
for us all. This the nymphs told me to say, but I cannot understand the
meaning of their words."

There were some there who would not have given heed to Jason's words,
deeming them words without meaning. But even as he spoke a wonder came
before their eyes. Out of the far-off sea a great horse leaped. Vast he
was of size and he had a golden mane. He shook the spray of the sea off
his sides and mane. Past them he trampled and away toward the horizon,
leaving great tracks in the sand.

Then Nestor spoke rejoicingly. "Behold the great horse! It is the horse
that the desert nymphs spoke of, Poseidon's horse. Even now has the
horse been unloosed, and now is the time to do what the nymphs bade us
do.

"Who but Argo is the mother of us all? She has carried us. Now we must
make her a recompense and carry her even as she carried us. With
untiring shoulders we must bear Argo across this great desert.

"And whither shall we bear her? Whither but along the tracks that
Poseidon's horse has left in the sand! Poseidon's horse will not go
under the earth--once again he will plunge into the sea!"

So Nestor said and the Argonauts saw truth in his saying. Hope came to
them again--the hope of leaving that desert and coming to the sea.
Surely when they came to the sea again, and spread the sail and held
the oars in their hands, their sacred ship would make swift course to
their native land!



VIII. THE CARRYING OUT OF THE ARGO

With the terrible weight of the ship upon their shoulders the Argonauts
made their way across the desert, following the tracks of Poseidon's
golden-maned horse. Like a rounded serpent that drags with pain its
length along, they went day after day across that limitless land.

A day came when they saw the great tracks of the horse no more. A wind
had come up and had covered them with sand. With the mighty weight of
the ship upon their shoulders, with the sun beating upon their heads,
and with no marks on the desert to guide them, the heroes stood there,
and it seemed to them that the blood must gush up and out of their
hearts.

Then Zetes and Calais, sons of the North Wind, rose up upon their wings
to strive to get sight of the sea. Up, up, they soared. And then as a
man sees, or thinks he sees, at the month's beginning, the moon through
a bank of clouds, Zetes and Calais, looking over the measureless land,
saw the gleam of water. They shouted to the Argonauts; they marked the
way for them, and wearily, but with good hearts, the heroes went upon
the way.

They came at last to the shore of what seemed to be a wide inland sea.
They set Argo down from off their over-wearied shoulders and they let
her keel take water once more.

All salt and brackish was that water; they dipped their hands into and
tasted the salt. Orpheus was able to name the water they had come to;
it was that lake that was called after Triton, the son of Nereus, the
ancient one of the sea. They set up an altar and they made sacrifices
in thanksgiving to the gods.

They had come to water at last, but now they had to seek for other
water--for the sweet water that they could drink. All around them they
looked, but they saw no sign of a spring. And then they felt a wind
blow upon them--a wind that had in it not the dust of the desert but
the fragrance of growing things. Toward where that wind blew from they
went.

As they went on they saw a great shape against the sky; they saw
mountainous shoulders bowed. Orpheus bade them halt and turn their
faces with reverence toward that great shape: for this was Atlas the
Titan, the brother of Prometheus, who stood there to hold up the sky on
his shoulders.

Then they were near the place that the fragrance had blown from: there
was a garden there; the only fence that ran around it was a lattice of
silver. "Surely there are springs in the garden," the Argonauts said.
"We will enter this fair garden now and slake our thirst."

Orpheus bade them walk reverently, for all around them, he said, was
sacred ground. This garden was the Garden of the Hesperides that was
watched over by the Daughters of the Evening Land. The Argonauts looked
through the silver lattice; they saw trees with lovely fruit, and they
saw three maidens moving through the garden with watchful eyes. In this
garden grew the tree that had the golden apples that Zeus gave to Hera
as a wedding gift.

They saw the tree on which the golden apples grew. The maidens went to
it and then looked watchfully all around them. They saw the faces of
the Argonauts looking through the silver lattice and they cried out,
one to the other, and they joined their hands around the tree.

But Orpheus called to them, and the maidens understood the divine
speech of Orpheus. He made the Daughters of the Evening Land know that
they who stood before the lattice were men who reverenced the gods, who
would not strive to enter the forbidden garden. The maidens came toward
them. Beautiful as the singing of Orpheus was their utterance, but what
they said was a complaint and a lament.

Their lament was for the dragon Ladon, that dragon with a hundred heads
that guarded sleeplessly the tree that had the golden apples. Now that
dragon was slain. With arrows that had been dipped in the poison of the
Hydra's blood their dragon, Ladon, had been slain.

The Daughters of the Evening Land sang of how a mortal had come into
the garden that they watched over. He had a great bow, and with his
arrow he slew the dragon that guarded the golden apples. The golden
apples he had taken away; they had come back to the tree they had been
plucked from, for no mortal might keep them in his possession. So the
maidens sang Hespere, Eretheis, and Aegle--and they complained that
now, unhelped by the hundred-headed dragon, they had to keep guard over
the tree.

The Argonauts knew of whom they told the tale--Heracles, their comrade.
Would that Heracles were with them now!

The Hesperides told them of Heracles--of how the springs in the garden
dried up because of his plucking the golden apples. He came out of the
garden thirsting. Nowhere could he find a spring of water. To yonder
great rock he went. He smote it with his foot and water came out in
full floe.. Then he, leaning on his hands and with his chest upon the
ground, drank and drank from the water that flowed from the rifted rock.

The Argonauts looked to where the rock stood. They caught the sound of
water. They carried Medea over. And then, company after company, all
huddled together, they stooped down and drank their fill of the clear
good water. With lips wet with the water they cried to each other,
"Heracles! Although he is not with us, in very truth Heracles has saved
his comrades from deadly thirst!"

They saw his footsteps printed upon the rocks, and they followed them
until they led to the sand where no footsteps stay. Heracles! How glad
his comrades would have been if they could have had sight of him then!
But it was long ago before he had sailed with them--that Heracles had
been here.

Still hearing their complaint they turned back to the lattice, to where
the Daughters of the Evening Land stood. The Daughters of the Evening
Land bent their heads to listen to what the Argonauts told one another,
and, seeing them bent to listen, Orpheus told a story about one who had
gone across the Libyan desert, about one who was a hero like unto
Heracles.



THE STORY OF PERSEUS

Beyond where Atlas stands there is a cave where the strange women, the
ancient daughters of Phorcys, live. They have been gray from their
birth. They have but one eye and one tooth between them, and they pass
the eye and the tooth, one to the other, when they would see or eat.
They are called the Graiai, these two sisters.

Up to the cave where they lived a youth once came. He was beardless,
and the garb he wore was torn and travel-stained, but he had
shapeliness and beauty. In his leathern belt there was an exceedingly
bright sword; this sword was not straight like the swords we carry, but
it was hooked like a sickle. The strange youth with the bright, strange
sword came very quickly and very silently up to the cave where the
Graiai lived and looked over a high boulder into it.

One was sitting munching acorns with the single tooth. The other had
the eye in her hand. She was holding it to her forehead and looking
into the back of the cave. These two ancient women, with their gray
hair falling over them like thick fleeces, and with faces that were
only forehead and cheeks and nose and mouth, were strange creatures
truly. Very silently the youth stood looking at them.

"Sister, sister," cried the one who was munching acorns, "sister, turn
your eye this way. I heard the stir of something."

The other turned, and with the eye placed against her forehead looked
out to the opening of the cave. The youth drew back behind the boulder.
"Sister, sister, there is nothing there," said the one with the eye.

Then she said: "Sister, give me the tooth for I would eat my acorns.
Take the eye and keep watch."

The one who was eating held out the tooth, and the one who was watching
held out the eye. The youth darted into the cave. Standing between the
eyeless sisters, he took with one hand the tooth and with the other the
eye.

"Sister, sister, have you taken the eye?"

"I have not taken the eye. Have you taken the tooth?"

"I have not taken the tooth."

"Some one has taken the eye, and some one has taken the tooth."

They stood together, and the youth watched their blinking faces as they
tried to discover who had come into the cave, and who had taken the eye
and the tooth.

Then they said, screaming together: "Who ever has taken the eye and the
tooth from the Graiai, the ancient daughters of Phorcys, may Mother
Night smother him."

The youth spoke. "Ancient daughters of Phorcys," he said, "Graiai, I
would not rob from you. I have come to your cave only to ask the way to
a place."

"Ah, it is a mortal, a mortal," screamed the sisters. "Well, mortal,
what would you have from the Graiai?"

"Ancient Graiai," said the youth, "I would have you tell me, for you
alone know, where the nymphs dwell who guard the three magic
treasures--the cap of darkness, the shoes of flight, and the magic
pouch."

"We will not tell you, we will not tell you that," screamed the two
ancient sisters.

"I will keep the eye and the tooth," said the youth, "and I will give
them to one who will help me."

"Give me the eye and I will tell you," said one. "Give me the tooth and
I will tell you," said the other. The youth put the eye in the hand of
one and the tooth in the hand of the other, but he held their skinny
hands in his strong hands until they should tell him where the nymphs
dwelt who guarded the magic treasures. The Gray Ones told him. Then the
youth with the bright sword left the cave. As he went out he saw on the
ground a shield of bronze, and he took it with him.

To the other side of where Atlas stands he went. There he came upon the
nymphs in their valley. They had long dwelt there, hidden from gods and
men, and they were startled to see a stranger youth come into their
hidden valley. They fled away. Then the youth sat on the ground, his
head bent like a man who is very sorrowful.

The youngest and the fairest of the nymphs came to him at last. "Why
have you come, and why do you sit here in such great trouble, youth?"
said she. And then she said: "What is this strange sickle-sword that
you wear? Who told you the way to our dwelling place? What name have
you?"

"I have come here," said the youth, and he took the bronze shield upon
his knees and began to polish it, "I have come here because I want you,
the nymphs who guard them, to give to me the cap of darkness and the
shoes of flight and the magic pouch. I must gain these things; without
them I must go to my death. Why I must gain them you will know from my
story."

When he said that he had come for the three magic treasures that they
guarded, the kind nymph was more startled than she and her sisters had
been startled by the appearance of the strange youth in their hidden
valley. She turned away from him. But she looked again and she saw that
he was beautiful and brave looking. He had spoken of his death. The
nymph stood looking at him pitifully, and the youth, with the bronze
shield laid beside his knees and the strange hooked sword lying across
it, told her his story.

"I am Perseus," he said, "and my grandfather, men say, is king in
Argos. His name is Acrisius. Before I was born a prophecy was made to
him that the son of Danae, his daughter, would slay him. Acrisius was
frightened by the prophecy, and when I was born he put my mother and
myself into a chest, and he sent us adrift upon the waves of the sea.

"I did not know what a terrible peril I was in, for I was an infant
newly born. My mother was so hopeless that she came near to death. But
the wind and the waves did not destroy us: they brought us to a shore;
a shepherd found the chest, and he opened it and brought my mother and
myself out of it alive. The land we had come to was Seriphus. The
shepherd who found the chest and who rescued my mother and myself was
the brother of the king. His name was Dictys.

"In the shepherd's wattled house my mother stayed with me, a little
infant, and in that house I grew from babyhood to childhood, and from
childhood to boyhood. He was a kind man, this shepherd Dictys. His
brother Polydectes had put him away from the palace, but Dictys did not
grieve for that, for he was happy minding his sheep upon the hillside,
and he was happy in his little but of wattles and clay.

"Polydectes, the king, was seldom spoken to about his brother, and it
was years before he knew of the mother and child who had been brought
to live in Dictys's hut. But at last he heard of us, for strange things
began to be said about my mother--how she was beautiful, and how she
looked like one who had been favored by the gods. Then one day when he
was hurting, Polydectes the king came to the but of Dictys the shepherd.

"He saw Danae, my mother, there. By her looks he knew that she was a
king's daughter and one who had been favored by the gods. He wanted her
for his wife. But my mother hated this harsh and overbearing king, and
she would not wed with him. Often he came storming around the
shepherd's hut, and at last my mother had to take refuge from him in a
temple. There she became the priestess of the goddess.

"I was taken to the palace of Polydectes, and there I was brought up.
The king still stormed around where my mother was, more and more bent
on making her marry him. If she had not been in the temple where she
was under the protection of the goddess he would have wed her against
her will.

"But I was growing up now, and I was able to give some protection to my
mother. My arm was a strong one, and Polydectes knew that if he wronged
my mother in any way, I had the will and the power to be deadly to him.
One day I heard him say before his princes and his lords that he would
wed, and would wed one who was not Danae, I was overjoyed to hear him
say this. He asked the lords and the princes to come to the wedding
feast; they declared they would, and they told him of the presents they
would bring.

"Then King Polydectes turned to me and he asked me to come to the
wedding feast. I said I would come. And then, because I was young and
full of the boast of youth, and because the king was now ceasing to be
a terror to me, I said that I would bring to his wedding feast the head
of the Gorgon.

"The king smiled when he heard me say this, but he smiled not as a good
man smiles when he hears the boast of youth. He smiled, and he turned
to the princes and lords, and he said 'Perseus will come, and he will
bring a greater gift than any of you, for he will bring the head of her
whose gaze turns living creatures into stone.'

"When I heard the king speak so grimly about my boast the fearfulness
of the thing I had spoken of doing came over me. I thought for an
instant that the Gorgon's head appeared before me, and that I was then
and there turned into stone.

"The day of the wedding feast came. I came and I brought no gift. I
stood with my head hanging for shame. Then the princes and the lords
came forward, and they showed the great gifts of horses that they had
brought. I thought that the king would forget about me and about my
boast. And then I heard him call my name. 'Perseus,' he said, 'Perseus,
bring before us now the Gorgon's head that, as you told us, you would
bring for the wedding gift.'

"The princes and lords and people looked toward me, and I was filled
with a deeper shame. I had to say that I had failed to bring a present.
Then that harsh and overbearing king shouted at me. 'Go forth,' he
said, 'go forth and fetch the present that you spoke of. If you do not
bring it remain forever out of my country, for in Seriphus we will have
no empty boasters.' The lords and the princes applauded what the king
said; the people were sad for me and sad for my mother, but they might
not do anything to help me, so just and so due to me did the words of
the king seem. There was no help for it, and I had to go from the
country of Seriphus, leaving my mother at the mercy of Polydectes.

"I bade good-by to my sorrowful mother and I went from Seriphus--from
that land that I might not return to without the Gorgon's head. I
traveled far from that country. One day I sat down in a lonely place
and prayed to the gods that my strength might be equal to the will that
now moved in me--the will to take the Gorgon's head, and take from my
name the shame of a broken promise, and win back to Seriphus to save my
mother from the harshness of the king.

"When I looked up I saw one standing before me. He was a youth, too,
but I knew by the way he moved, and I knew by the brightness of his
face and eyes, that he was of the immortals. I raised my hands in
homage to him, and he came near me. 'Perseus,' he said, 'if you have
the courage to strive, the way to win the Gorgon's head will be shown
you.' I said that I had the courage to strive, and he knew that I was
making no boast.

"He gave me this bright sickle-sword that I carry. He told me by what
ways I might come near enough to the Gorgons without being turned into
stone by their gaze. He told me how I might slay the one of the three
Gorgons who was not immortal, and how, having slain her, I might take
her head and flee without being torn to pieces by her sister Gorgons.

"Then I knew that I should have to come on the Gorgons from the air. I
knew that having slain the one that could be slain I should have to fly
with the speed of the wind. And I knew that that speed even would not
save me--I should have to be hidden in my flight. To win the head and
save myself I would need three magic things--the shoes of flight and
the magic pouch, and the dogskin cap of Hades that makes its wearer
invisible.

"The youth said: 'The magic pouch and the shoes of flight and the
dogskin cap of Hades are in the keeping of the nymphs whose dwelling
place no mortal knows. I may not tell you where their dwelling place
is. But from the Gray Ones, from the ancient daughters of Phorcys who
live in a cave near where Atlas stands, you may learn where their
dwelling place is.'

"Thereupon he told me how I might come to the Graiai, and how I might
get them to tell me where you, the nymphs, had your dwelling. The one
who spoke to me was Hermes, whose dwelling is on Olympus. By this
sickle-sword that he gave me you will know that I speak the truth."

Perseus ceased speaking, and she who was the youngest and fairest of
the nymphs came nearer to him. She knew that he spoke truthfully, and
besides she had pity for the youth. "But we are the keepers of the
magic treasures," she said, "and some one whose need is greater even
than yours may some time require them from us. But will you swear that
you will bring the magic treasures back to us when you have slain the
Gorgon and have taken her head?"

Perseus declared that he would bring the magic treasures back to the
nymphs and leave them once more in their keeping. Then the nymph who
had compassion for him called to the others. They spoke together while
Perseus stayed far away from them, polishing his shield of bronze. At
last the nymph who had listened to him came back, the others following
her. They brought to Perseus and they put into his hands the things
they had guarded--the cap made from dogskin that had been brought up
out of Hades, a pair of winged shoes, and a long pouch that he could
hang across his shoulder.

And so with the shoes of flight and the cap of darkness and the magic
pouch, Perseus went to seek the Gorgons. The sickle-sword that Hermes
gave him was at his side, and on his arm he held the bronze shield that
was now well polished.

He went through the air, taking a way that the nymphs had shown him. He
came to Oceanus that was the rim around the world. He saw forms that
were of living creatures all in stone, and he knew that he was near the
place where the Gorgons had their lair.

Then, looking upon the surface of his polished shield, he saw the
Gorgons below him. Two were covered with hard serpent scales; they had
tusks that were long and were like the tusks of boars, and they had
hands of gleaming brass and wings of shining gold. Still looking upon
the shining surface of his shield Perseus went down and down. He saw
the third sister--she who was not immortal. She had a woman's face and
form, and her countenance was beautiful, although there was something
deadly in its fairness. The two scaled and winged sisters were asleep,
but the third, Medusa, was awake, and she was tearing with her hands a
lizard that had come near her.

Upon her head was a tangle of serpents all with heads raised as though
they were hissing. Still looking into the mirror of his shield Perseus
came down and over Medusa. He turned his head away from her. Then, with
a sweep of the sickle-sword he took her head off. There was no scream
from the Gorgon, but the serpents upon her head hissed loudly.

Still with his face turned from it he lifted up the head by its tangle
of serpents. He put it into the magic pouch. He rose up in the air. But
now the Gorgon sisters were awake. They had heard the hiss of Medusa's
serpents, and now they looked upon her headless body. They rose up on
their golden wings, and their brazen hands were stretched out to tear
the one who had slain Medusa. As they flew after him they screamed
aloud.

Although he flew like the wind the Gorgon sisters would have overtaken
him if he had been plain to their eyes. But the dogskin cap of Hades
saved him, for the Gorgon sisters did not know whether he was above or
below them, behind or before them. On Perseus went, flying toward where
Atlas stood. He flew over this place, over Libya. Drops of blood from
Medusa's head fell down upon the desert. They were changed and became
the deadly serpents that are on these sands and around these rocks. On
and on Perseus flew toward Atlas and toward the hidden valley where the
nymphs who were again to guard the magic treasures had their dwelling
place. But before he came to the nymphs Perseus had another adventure.

In Ethopia, which is at the other side of Libya, there ruled a king
whose name was Cepheus. This king had permitted his queen to boast that
she was more beautiful than the nymphs of the sea. In punishment for
the queen's impiety and for the king's folly Poseidon sent a monster
out of the sea to waste that country. Every year the monster came,
destroying more and more of the country of Ethopia. Then the king asked
of an oracle what he should do to save his land and his people. The
oracle spoke of a dreadful thing that he would have to do--he would
have to sacrifice his daughter, the beautiful Princess Andromeda.

The king was forced by his savage people to take the maiden Andromeda
and chain her to a rock on the seashore, leaving her there for the
monster to devour her, satisfying himself with that prey.

Perseus, flying near, heard the maiden's laments. He saw her lovely
body bound with chains to the rock. He came near her, taking the cap of
darkness off his head. She saw him, and she bent her head in shame, for
she thought that he would think that it was for some dreadful fault of
her own that she had been left chained in that place.

Her father had stayed near. Perseus saw him, and called to him, and
bade him tell why the maiden was chained to the rock. The king told
Perseus of the sacrifice that he had been forced to make. Then Perseus
came near the maiden, and he saw how she looked at him with pleading
eyes.

Then Perseus made her father promise that he would give Andromeda to
him for his wife if he should slay the sea monster. Gladly Cepheus
promised this. Then Perseus once again drew his sickle-sword; by the
rock to which Andromeda was still chained he waited for sight of the
sea monster.

It came rolling in from the open sea, a shapeless and unsightly thing.
With the shoes of flight upon his feet Perseus rose above it. The
monster saw his shadow upon the water, and savagely it went to attack
the shadow. Perseus swooped down as an eagle swoops down; with his
sickle-sword he attacked it, and he struck the hook through the
monster's shoulder. Terribly it reared up from the sea. Perseus rose
over it, escaping its wide-opened mouth with its treble rows of fangs.
Again he swooped and struck at it. Its hide was covered all over with
hard scales and with the shells of sea things, but Perseus's sword
struck through it. It reared up again, spouting water mixed with blood.
On a rock near the rock that Andromeda was chained to Perseus alighted.
The monster, seeing him, bellowed and rushed swiftly through the water
to overwhelm him. As it reared up he plunged the sword again and again
into its body. Down into the water the monster sank, and water mixed
with blood was spouted up from the depths into which it sank.

Then was Andromeda loosed from her chains. Perseus, the conqueror,
lifted up the fainting maiden and carried her back to the king's
palace. And Cepheus there renewed his promise to give her in marriage
to her deliverer.

Perseus went on his way. He came to the hidden valley where the nymphs
had their dwelling place, and he restored to them the three magic
treasures that they had given him--the cap of darkness, the shoes of
flight, and the magic pouch. And these treasures are still there, and
the hero who can win his way to the nymphs may have them as Perseus had
them.

Again he returned to the place where he had found Andromeda chained.
With face averted he drew forth the Gorgon's head from where he had
hidden it between the rocks. He made a bag for it out of the horny skin
of the monster he had slain. Then, carrying his tremendous trophy, he
went to the palace of King Cepheus to claim his bride.

Now before her father had thought of sacrificing her to the sea monster
he had offered Andromeda in marriage to a prince of Ethopia--to a
prince whose name was Phineus. Phineus did not strive to save
Andromeda. But, hearing that she had been delivered from the monster,
he came to take her for his wife; he came to Cepheus's palace, and he
brought with him a thousand armed men.

The palace of Cepheus was filled with armed men when Perseus entered
it. He saw Andromeda on a raised place in the hall. She was pale as
when she was chained to the rock, and when she saw him in the palace
she uttered a cry of gladness.

Cepheus, the craven king, would have let him who had come with the
armed bands take the maiden. Perseus came beside Andromeda and he made
his claim. Phineus spoke insolently to him, and then he urged one of
his captains to strike Perseus down. Many sprang forward to attack him.
Out of the bag Perseus drew Medusa's head. He held it before those who
were bringing strife into the hall. They were turned to stone. One of
Cepheus's men wished to defend Perseus: he struck at the captain who
had come near; his sword made a clanging sound as it struck this one
who had looked upon Medusa's head.

Perseus went from the land of Ethopia taking fair Andromeda with him.
They went into Greece, for he had thought of going to Argos, to the
country that his grandfather ruled over. At this very time Acrisius got
tidings of Danae, and her son, and he knew that they had not perished
on the waves of the sea. Fearful of the prophecy that told he would be
slain by his grandson and fearing that he would come to Argos to seek
him, Acrisius fled out of his country.

He came into Thessaly. Perseus and Andromeda were there. Now, one day
the old king was brought to games that were being celebrated in honor
of a dead hero. He was leaning on his staff, watching a youth throw a
metal disk, when something in that youth's appearance made him want to
watch him more closely. About him there was something of a being of the
upper air; it made Acrisius think of a brazen tower and of a daughter
whom he had shut up there.

He moved so that he might come nearer to the disk-thrower. But as he
left where he had been standing he came into the line of the thrown
disk. It struck the old man on the temple. He fell down dead, and as he
fell the people cried out his name--"Acrisius, King Acrisius!" Then
Perseus knew whom the disk, thrown by his hand, had slain.

And because he had slain the king by chance Perseus would not go to
Argos, nor take over the kingdom that his grandfather had reigned over.
With Andromeda he went to Seriphus where his mother was. And in
Seriphus there still reigned Polydectes, who had put upon him the
terrible task of winning the Gorgon's head.

He came to Seriphus and he left Andromeda in the but of Dictys the
shepherd. No one knew him; he heard his name spoken of as that of a
youth who had gone on a foolish quest and who would never again be
heard of. To the temple where his mother was a priestess he came.
Guards were placed all around it. He heard his mother's voice and it
was raised in lament: "Walled up here and given over to hunger I shall
be made go to Polydectes's house and become his wife. O ye gods, have
ye no pity for Danae, the mother of Perseus?"

Perseus cried aloud, and his mother heard his voice and her moans
ceased. He turned around and he went to the palace of Polydectes, the
king.

The king received him with mockeries. "I will let you stay in Seriphus
for a day," he said, "because I would have you at a marriage feast. I
have vowed that Danae, taken from the temple where she sulks, will be
my wife by to-morrow's sunset."

So Polydectes said, and the lords and princes who were around him
mocked at Perseus and flattered the king. Perseus went from them then.
The next day he came back to the palace. But in his hands now there was
a dread thing--the bag made from the hide of the sea monster that had
in it the Gorgon's head.

He saw his mother. She was brought in white and fainting, thinking that
she would now have to wed the harsh and overbearing king. Then she saw
her son, and hope came into her face.

The king seeing Perseus, said: "Step forward, O youngling, and see your
mother wed to a mighty man. Step forward to witness a marriage, and
then depart, for it is not right that a youth that makes promises and
does not keep them should stay in a land that I rule over. Step forward
now, you with the empty hands."

But not with empty hands did Perseus step forward. He shouted out: "I
have brought something to you at last, O king--a present to you and
your mocking friends. But you, O my mother, and you, O my friends,
avert your faces from what I have brought." Saying this Perseus drew
out the Gorgon's head. Holding it by the snaky locks he stood before
the company. His mother and his friends averted their faces. But
Polydectes and his insolent friends looked full upon what Perseus
showed. "This youth would strive to frighten us with some conjuror's
trick," they said. They said no more, for they became as stones, and as
stone images they still stand in that hall in Seriphus.

He went to the shepherd's hut, and he brought Dictys from it with
Andromeda. Dictys he made king in Polydectes's stead. Then with Danae
and Andromeda, his mother and his wife, he went from Seriphus.

He did not go to Argos, the country that his grandfather had ruled
over, although the people there wanted Perseus to come to them, and be
king over them. He took the kingdom of Tiryns in exchange for that of
Argos, and there he lived with Andromeda, his lovely wife out of
Ethopia. They had a son named Perses who became the parent of the
Persian people.

The sickle-sword that had slain the Gorgon went back to Hermes, and
Hermes took Medusa's head also. That head Hermes's divine sister set
upon her shield-Medusa's head upon the shield of Pallas Athene. O may
Pallas Athene guard us all, and bring us out of this land of sands and
stone where are the deadly serpents that have come from the drops of
blood that fell from the Gorgon's head!

They turned away from the Garden of the Daughters of the Evening Land.
The Argonauts turned from where the giant shape of Atlas stood against
the sky and they went toward the Tritonian Lake. But not all of them
reached the Argo. On his way back to the ship, Nauplius, the helmsman,
met his death.

A sluggish serpent was in his way--it was not a serpent that would
strike at one who turned from it. Nauplius trod upon it, and the
serpent lifted its head up and bit his foot. They raised him on their
shoulders and they hurried back with him. But his limbs became numb,
and when they laid him down on the shore of the lake he stayed
moveless. Soon he grew cold. They dug a grave for Nauplius beside the
lake, and in that desert land they set up his helmsman's oar in the
middle of his tomb of heaped stones.

And now like a snake that goes writhing this way and that way and that
cannot find the cleft in the rock that leads to its lair, the Argo went
hither and thither striving to find an outlet from that lake. No outlet
could they find and the way of their home-going seemed lost to them
again. Then Orpheus prayed to the son of Nereus, to Triton, whose name
was on that lake, to aid them.

Then Triton appeared. He stretched out his hand and showed them the
outlet to the sea. And Triton spoke in friendly wise to the heroes,
bidding them go upon their way in joy. "And as for labor," he said,
"let there be no grieving because of that, for limbs that have youthful
vigor should still toil."

They took up the oars and they pulled toward the sea, and Triton, the
friendly immortal, helped them on. He laid hold upon Argo's keel and he
guided her through the water. The Argonauts saw him beneath the water;
his body, from his head down to his waist, was fair and great and like
to the body of one of the other immortals. But below his body was like
a great fish's, forking this way and that. He moved with fins that were
like the horns of the new moon. Triton helped Argo along until they
came into the open sea. Then he plunged down into the abyss. The heroes
shouted their thanks to him. Then they looked at each other and
embraced each other with joy, for the sea that touched upon the land of
Greece was open before them.



IX. NEAR TO IOLCUS AGAIN

The sun sank; then that star came that bids the shepherd bring his
flock to the fold, that brings the wearied plowman to his rest. But no
rest did that star bring to the Argonauts. The breeze that filled the
sail died down; they furled the sail and lowered the mast; then, once
again, they pulled at the oars. All night they rowed, and all day, and
again when the next day came on. Then they saw the island that is
halfway to Greece the great and fair island of Crete.

It was Theseus who first saw Crete--Theseus who was to come to Crete
upon another ship. They drew the Argo near the great island; they
wanted water, and they were fain to rest there.

Minos, the great king, ruled over Crete. He left the guarding of the
island to one of the race of bronze, to Talos, who had lived on after
the rest of the bronze men had been destroyed. Thrice a day would Talos
stride around the island; his brazen feet were tireless.

Now Talos saw the Argo drawing near. He took up great rocks and he
hurled them at the heroes, and very quickly they had to draw their ship
out of range.

They were wearied and their thirst was consuming them. But still that
bronze man stood there ready to sink their ship with the great rocks
that he took up in his hands. Medea stood forward upon the ship, ready
to use her spells against the man of bronze.

In body and limbs he was made of bronze and in these he was
invulnerable. But beneath a sinew in his ankle there was a vein that
ran up to his neck and that was covered by a thin skin. If that vein
were broken Talos would perish.

Medea did not know about this vein when she stood forward upon the ship
to use her spells against him. Upon a cliff of Crete, all gleaming,
stood that huge man of bronze. Then, as she was ready to fling her
spells against him, Medea thought upon the words that Arete, the wise
queen, had given her that she was not to use spells and not to practice
against the life of any one.

But she knew that there was no impiety in using spells and practicing
against Talos, for Zeus had already doomed all his race. She stood upon
the ship, and with her Magic Song she enchanted him. He whirled round
and round. He struck his ankle against a jutting stone. The vein broke,
and that which was the blood of the bronze man flowed out of him like
molten lead. He stood towering upon the cliff. Like a pine upon a
mountaintop that the woodman had left half hewn through and that a
mighty wind pitches against, Talos stood upon his tireless feet,
swaying to and fro. Then, emptied of all his strength, Minos's man of
bronze fell into the Cretan Sea.

The heroes landed. That night they lay upon the land of Crete and
rested and refreshed themselves. When dawn came they drew water from a
spring, and once more they went on board the Argo.

A day came when the helmsman said, "To-morrow we shall see the shore of
Thessaly, and by sunset we shall be in the harbor of Pagasae. Soon, O
voyagers, we shall be back in the city from which we went to gain the
Golden Fleece."

Then Jason brought Medea to the front of the ship so that they might
watch together for Thessaly, the homeland. The Mountain Pelion came
into sight. Jason exulted as he looked upon that mountain; again he
told Medea about Chiron, the ancient centaur, and about the days of his
youth in the forests of Pelion.

The Argo went on; the sun sank, and darkness came on. Never was there
darkness such as there was on that night. They called that night
afterward the Pall of Darkness. To the heroes upon the Argo it seemed
as if black chaos had come over the world again; they knew not whether
they were adrift upon the sea or upon the River of Hades. No star
pierced the darkness nor no beam from the moon.

After a night that seemed many nights the dawn came. In the sunrise
they saw the land of Thessaly with its mountain, its forests, and its
fields. They hailed each other as if they had met after a long parting.
They raised the mast and unfurled the sail.

But not toward Pagasae did they go. For now the voice of Argo came to
them, shaking their hearts: Jason and Orpheus, Castor and Polydeuces,
Zetes and Calais, Peleus and Telamon, Theseus, Admetus, Nestor, and
Atalanta, heard the cry of their ship. And the voice of Argo warned
them not to go into the harbor of Pagasae.

As they stood upon the ship, looking toward Iolcus, sorrow came over
all the heroes, such sorrow as made their hearts nearly break. For long
they stood there in utter numbness.

Then Admetus spoke--Admetus who was the happiest of all those who went
in quest of the Golden Fleece. "Although we may not go into the harbor
of Pagasae, nor into the city of Iolcus," Admetus said, "still we have
come to the land of Greece. There are other harbors and other cities
that we may go into. And in all the places that we go to we will be
honored, for we have gone through toils and dangers, and we have
brought to Greece the famous Fleece of Gold."

So Admetus said, and their spirits came back again to the heroes--came
back to all of them save Jason. The rest had other cities to go to, and
fathers and mothers and friends to greet them in other places, but for
Jason there was only Iolcus.

Medea took his hand, and sorrow for him overcame her. For Medea could
divine what had happened in Iolcus and why it was that the heroes might
not go there.

It was to Corinth that the Argo went. Creon, the king of Corinth,
welcomed them and gave great honor to the heroes who had faced such
labors and such dangers to bring the world's wonder to Greece.

The Argonauts stayed together until they went to Calydon, to hunt the
boar that ravaged Prince Meleagrus's country. After that they
separated, each one going to his own land. Jason came back to Corinth
where Medea stayed. And in Corinth he had tidings of the happenings in
Iolcus.

King Pelias now ruled more fearfully in Iolcus, having brought down
from the mountains more and fiercer soldiers. And Æson, Jason's father,
and Alcimide, his mother, were now dead, having been slain by King
Pelias.

This Jason heard from men who came into Corinth from Thessaly. And
because of the great army that Pelias had gathered there, Jason might
not yet go into Iolcus, either to exact a vengeance, or to show the
people THE GOLDEN FLEECE that he had gone so far to gain.




PART III. The Heroes of the Quest



I. ATALANTA THE HUNTRESS

I

They came once more together, the heroes of the quest, to hunt a boar
in Calydon--Jason and Peleus came, Telamon, Theseus, and rough Arcas,
Nestor and Helen's brothers Polydeuces and Castor. And, most noted of
all, there came the Arcadian huntress maid, Atalanta.

Beautiful they all thought her when they knew her aboard the Argo. But
even more beautiful Atalanta seemed to the heroes when she came amongst
them in her hunting gear. Her lovely hair hung in two bands across her
shoulders, and over her breast hung an ivory quiver filled with arrows.
They said that her face with its wide and steady eyes was maidenly for
a boy's, and boyish for a maiden's face. Swiftly she moved with her
head held high, and there was not one amongst the heroes who did not
say, "Oh, happy would that man be whom Atalanta the unwedded would take
for her husband!"

All the heroes said it, but the one who said it most feelingly was the
prince of Calydon, young Meleagrus. He more than the other heroes felt
the wonder of Atalanta's beauty.

Now the boar they had come to hunt was a monster boar. It had come into
Calydon and it was laying waste the fields and orchards and destroying
the people's cattle and horses. That boar had been sent into Calydon by
an angry divinity. For when Oeneus, the king of the country, was making
sacrifice to the gods in thanksgiving for a bounteous harvest, he had
neglected to make sacrifice to the goddess of the wild things, Artemis.
In her anger Artemis had sent the monster boar to lay waste Oeneus's
realm.

It was a monster boar indeed--one as huge as a bull, with tusks as
great as an elephant's; the bristles on its back stood up like spear
points, and the hot breath of the creature withered the growth on the
ground. The boar tore up the corn in the fields and trampled down the
vines with their clusters and heavy bunches of grapes; also it rushed
against the cattle and destroyed them in the fields. And no hounds the
huntsmen were able to bring could stand before it. And so it came to
pass that men had to leave their farms and take refuge behind the walls
of the city because of the ravages of the boar. It was then that the
rulers of Calydon sent for the heroes of the quest to join with them in
hunting the monster.

Calydon itself sent Prince Meleagrus and his two uncles, Plexippus and
Toxeus. They were brothers to Meleagrus's mother, Althæa. Now Althæa
was a woman who had sight to see mysterious things, but who had also a
wayward and passionate heart. Once, after her son Meleagrus was born,
she saw the three Fates sitting by her hearth. They were spinning the
threads of her son's life, and as they spun they sang to each other,
"An equal span of life we give to the newborn child, and to the billet
of wood that now rests above the blaze of the fire." Hearing what the
Fates sang and understanding it Althæa had sprung up from her bed, had
seized the billet of wood, and had taken it out of the fire before the
flames had burnt into it.

That billet of wood lay in her chest, hidden away. And Meleagrus nor
any one else save Althæa knew of it, nor knew that the prince's life
would last only for the space it would be kept from the burning. On the
day of the hunting he appeared as the strongest and bravest of the
youths of Calydon. And he knew not, poor Meleagrus, that the love for
Atalanta that had sprung into his heart was to bring to the fire the
billet of wood on which his life depended.


II

As Atalanta went, the bow in her hands, Prince Meleagrus pressed behind
her. Then came Jason and Peleus, Telamon, Theseus and Nestor. Behind
them came Meleagrus's dark-browed uncles, Plexippus and Toxeus. They
came to a forest that covered the side of a mountain. Huntsmen had
assembled here with hounds held in leashes and with nets to hold the
rushing quarry. And when they had all gathered together they went
through the forest on the track of the monster boar.

It was easy to track the boar, for it had left a broad trail through
the forest. The heroes and the huntsmen pressed on. They came to a
marshy covert where the boar had its lair. There was a thickness of
osiers and willows and tall bullrushes, making a place that it was hard
for the hunters to go through.

They roused the boar with the blare of horns and it came rushing out.
Foam was on its tusks, and its eyes had in them the blaze of fire. On
the boar came, breaking down the thicket in its rush. But the heroes
stood steadily with the points of their spears toward the monster.

The hounds were loosed from their leashes and they dashed toward the
boar. The boar slashed them with its tusks and trampled them into the
ground. Jason flung his spear. The spear went wide of the mark.
Another, Arcas, cast his, but the wood, not the point of the spear,
struck the boar, rousing it further. Then its eyes flamed, and like a
great stone shot from a catapult the boar rushed on the huntsmen who
were stationed to the right. In that rush it flung two youths prone
upon the ground.

Then might Nestor have missed his going to Troy and his part in that
story, for the boar swerved around and was upon him in an instant.
Using his spear as a leaping pole he vaulted upward and caught the
branches of a tree as the monster dashed the spear down in its rush. In
rage the beast tore at the trunk of the tree. The heroes might have
been scattered at this moment, for Telamon had fallen, tripped by the
roots of a tree, and Peleus had had to throw himself upon him to pull
him out of the way of danger, if Polydeuces and Castor had not dashed
up to their aid. They came riding upon high white horses, spears in
their hands. The brothers cast their spears, but neither spear struck
the monster boar.

Then the boar turned and was for drawing back into the thicket. They
might have lost it then, for its retreat was impenetrable. But before
it got clear away Atalanta put an arrow to the string, drew the bow to
her shoulder, and let the arrow fly. It struck the boar, and a patch of
blood was seen upon its bristles. Prince Meleagrus shouted out, "O
first to strike the monster! Honor indeed shall you receive for this,
Arcadian maid."

His uncles were made wroth by this speech, as was another, the
Arcadian, rough Arcas. Arcas dashed forward, holding in his hands a
two-headed axe. "Heroes and huntsmen," he cried, "you shall see how a
man's strokes surpass a girl's." He faced the boar, standing on tiptoe
with his axe raised for the stroke. Meleagrus's uncles shouted to
encourage him. But the boar's tusks tore him before Arcas's axe fell,
and the Arcadian was trampled upon the ground.

The boar, roused again by Atalanta's arrow, turned on the hunters.
Jason hurled a spear again. It swerved and struck a hound and pinned it
to the ground. Then, speaking the name of Atalanta, Meleagrus sprang
before the heroes and the huntsmen. He had two spears in his hands. The
first missed and stuck quivering in the ground. But the second went
right through the back of the monster boar. It whirled round and round,
spouting out blood and foam. Meleagrus pressed on, and drove his
hunting knife through the shoulders of the monster.

His uncles, Plexippus and Toxeus, were the first to come to where the
monster boar was lying outstretched. "It is well, the deed you have
done, boy," said one; "it is well that none of the strangers to our
country slew the boar. Now will the head and tusks of the monster adorn
our hall, and men will know that the arms of our house can well protect
this land."

But one word only did Meleagrus say, and that word was the name,
"Atalanta." The maiden came and Meleagrus, his spear upon the head,
said, "Take, O fair Arcadian, the spoil of the chase. All know that it
was you who inflicted the first wound upon the boar."

Plexippus and Toxeus tried to push him away, as if Meleagrus was still
a boy under their tutoring. He shouted to them to stand off, and then
he hacked out the terrible tusks and held them toward Atalanta.

She would have taken them, for she, who had never looked lovingly upon
a youth, was moved by the beauty and the generosity of Prince
Meleagrus. She would have taken from him the spoil of the chase. But as
she held out her arms Meleagrus's uncles struck them with the poles of
their spears. Heavy marks were made on the maiden's white arms. Madness
then possessed Meleagrus, and he took up his spear and thrust it, first
into the body of Plexippus and then into the body of Toxeus. His
thrusts were terrible, for he was filled with the fierceness of the
hunt, and his uncles fell down in death.

Then a great horror came over all the heroes. They raised up the bodies
of Plexippus and Toxeus and carried them on their spears away from the
place of the hunting and toward the temple of the gods. Meleagrus
crouched down upon the ground in horror of what he had done. Atalanta
stood beside him, her hand upon his head.


III

Althæa was in the temple making sacrifice to the gods. She saw men come
in carrying across their spears the bodies of two men. She looked and
she saw that the dead men were her two brothers, Plexippus and Toxeus.

Then she beat her breast and she filled the temple with the cries of
her lamentation. "Who has slain my brothers? Who has slain my
brothers?" she kept crying out.

Then she was told that her son Meleagrus had slain her brothers. She
had no tears to shed then, and in a hard voice she asked, "Why did my
son slay Plexippus and Toxeus, his uncles?"

The one who was wroth with Atalanta, Arcas the Arcadian, came to her
and told her that her brothers had been slain because of a quarrel
about the girl Atalanta.

"My brothers have been slain because a girl bewitched my son; then
accursed be that son of mine," Althæa cried. She took off the
gold-fringed robe of a priestess, and she put on a black robe of
mourning.

Her brothers, the only sons of her father, had been slain, and for the
sake of a girl. The image of Atalanta came before her, and she felt she
could punish dreadfully her son. But her son was not there to punish;
he was far away, and the girl for whose sake he had killed Plexippus
and Toxeus was with him.

The rage she had went back into her heart and made her truly mad. "I
gave Meleagrus life when I might have let it go from him with the
burning billet of wood," she cried, "and now he has taken the lives of
my brothers." And then her thought went to the billet of wood that was
hidden in the chest.

Back to her house she went, and when she went within she saw a fire of
pine knots burning upon the hearth. As she looked upon their burning a
scorching pain went through her. But she went from the hearth,
nevertheless, and into the inner room. There stood the chest that she
had not opened for years. She opened it now, and out of it she took the
billet of wood that had on it the mark of the burning.

She brought it to the hearth fire. Four times she went to throw it into
the fire, and four times she stayed her hand. The fire was before her,
but it was in her too. She saw the images of her brothers lying dead,
and, saying that he who had slain them should lose his life, she threw
the billet of wood into the fire of pine knots.

Straightway it caught fire and began to burn. And Althæa cried, "Let
him die, my son, and let naught remain; let all perish with my
brothers, even the kingdom that Oeneus, my husband, founded."

Then she turned away and remained stiffly standing by the hearth, the
life withered up within her. Her daughters came and tried to draw her
away, but they could not--her two daughters, Gorge and Deianira.

Meleagrus was crouching upon the ground with Atalanta watching beside
him. Now he stood up, and taking her hand he said, "Let me go with you
to the temple of the gods where I shall strive to make atonement for
the deed I have done to-day."

She went with him. But even as they came to the street of the city a
sharp and a burning pain seized upon Meleagrus. More and more burning
it grew, and weaker and weaker he became. He could not have moved
further if it had not been for the aid of Atalanta. Jason and Peleus
lifted him across the threshold and carried him into the temple of the
gods.

They laid him down with his head upon Atalanta's lap. The pain within
him grew fiercer and fiercer, but at last it died down as the burning
billet of wood sank down into the ashes. The heroes of the quest stood
around, all overcome with woe. In the street they heard the
lamentations for Plexippus and Toxeus, for Prince Meleagrus, and for
the passing of the kingdom founded by Oeneus. Atalanta left the temple,
and attended by the two brothers on the white horses, Polydeuces and
Castor, she went back to Arcady.



II. PELEUS AND HIS BRIDE FROM THE SEA

I

Prince Peleus came on his ship to a bay on the coast of Thessaly. His
painted ship lay between two great rocks, and from its poop he saw a
sight that enchanted him. Out from the sea, riding on a dolphin, came a
lovely maiden. And by the radiance of her face and limbs Peleus knew
her for one of the immortal goddesses.

Now Peleus had borne himself so nobly in all things that he had won the
favor of the gods themselves. Zeus, who is highest amongst the gods,
had made this promise to Peleus he would honor him as no one amongst
the sons of men had been honored before, for he would give him an
immortal goddess to be his bride.

She who came out of the sea went into a cave that was overgrown with
vines and roses. Peleus looked into the cave and he saw her sleeping
upon skins of the beasts of the sea. His heart was enchanted by the
sight, and he knew that his life would be broken if he did not see this
goddess day after day. So he went back to his ship and he prayed: "O
Zeus, now I claim the promise that you once made to me. Let it be that
this goddess come with me, or else plunge my ship and me beneath the
waves of the sea."

And when Peleus said this he looked over the land and the water for a
sign from Zeus.

Even then the goddess sleeping in the cave had dreams such as had never
before entered that peaceful resting place of hers. She dreamt that she
was drawn away from the deep and the wide sea. She dreamt that she was
brought to a place that was strange and unfree to her. And as she lay
in the cave, sleeping, tears that might never come into the eyes of an
immortal lay around her heart.

But Peleus, standing on his painted ship, saw a rainbow touch upon the
sea. He knew by that sign that Iris, the messenger of Zeus, had come
down through the air. Then a strange sight came before his eyes. Out of
the sea rose the head of a man; wrinkled and bearded it was, and the
eyes were very old. Peleus knew that he who was there before him was
Nereus, the ancient one of the sea.

Said old Nereus: "Thou hast prayed to Zeus, and I am here to speak an
answer to thy prayer. She whom you have looked upon is Thetis, the
goddess of the sea. Very loath will she be to take Zeus's command and
wed with thee. It is her desire to remain in the sea, unwedded, and she
has refused marriage even with one of the immortal gods."

Then said Peleus, "Zeus promised me an immortal bride. If Thetis may
not be mine I cannot wed any other, goddess or mortal maiden."

"Then thou thyself wilt have to master Thetis," said Nereus, the wise
one of the sea. "If she is mastered by thee, she cannot go back to the
sea. She will strive with all her strength and all her wit to escape
from thee; but thou must hold her no matter what she does, and no
matter how she shows herself. When thou hast seen her again as thou
didst see her at first, thou wilt know that thou hast mastered her."
And when he had said this to Peleus, Nereus, the ancient one of the
sea, went under the waves.


II

With his hero's heart beating more than ever it had beaten yet, Peleus
went into the cave. Kneeling beside her he looked down upon the
goddess. The dress she wore was like green and silver mail. Her face
and limbs were pearly, but through them came the radiance that belongs
to the immortals.

He touched the hair of the goddess of the sea, the yellow hair that was
so long that it might cover her all over. As he touched her hair she
started up, wakening suddenly out of her sleep. His hands touched her
hands and held them. Now he  knew that if he should loose his hold upon
her she would escape from him into the depths of the sea, and that
thereafter no command from the immortals would bring her to him.

She changed into a white bird that strove to bear itself away. Peleus
held to its wings and struggled with the bird. She changed and became a
tree. Around the trunk of the tree Peleus clung. She changed once more,
and this time her form became terrible: a spotted leopard she was now,
with burning eyes; but Peleus held to the neck of the fierce-appearing
leopard and was not affrighted by the burning eyes. Then she changed
and became as he had seen her first--a lovely maiden, with the brow of
a goddess, and with long yellow hair.

But now there was no radiance in her face or in her limbs. She looked
past Peleus, who held her, and out to the wide sea. "Who is he," she
cried, "who has been given this mastery over me?"

Then said the hero: "I am Peleus, and Zeus has given me the mastery
over thee. Wilt thou come with me, Thetis? Thou art my bride, given me
by him who is highest amongst the gods, and if thou wilt come with me,
thou wilt always be loved and reverenced by me."

"Unwillingly I leave the sea," she cried, "unwillingly I go with thee,
Peleus."

But life in the sea was not for her any more now that she was mastered.
She went to Peleus's ship and she went to Phthia, his country. And when
the hero and the sea goddess were wedded the immortal gods and
goddesses came to their hall and brought the bride and the bridegroom
wondrous gifts. The three sisters who are called the Fates came also.
These wise and ancient women said that the son born of the marriage of
Peleus and Thetis would be a man greater than Peleus himself.


III

Now although a son was born to her, and although this son had something
of the radiance of the immortals about him, Thetis remained forlorn and
estranged. Nothing that her husband did was pleasing to her. Prince
Peleus was in fear that the wildness of the sea would break out in her,
and that some great harm would be wrought in his house.

One night he wakened suddenly. He saw the fire upon his hearth and he
saw a figure standing by the fire. It was Thetis, his wife. The fire
was blazing around something that she held in her hands. And while she
stood there she was singing to herself a strange-sounding song.

And then he saw what Thetis held in her hands and what the fire was
blazing around; it was the child, Achilles.

Prince Peleus sprang from the bed and caught Thetis around the waist
and lifted her and the child away from the blazing fire. He put them
both upon the bed, and he took from her the child that she held by the
heel. His heart was wild within him, for the thought that wildness had
come over his wife, and  that she was bent upon destroying their child.
But Thetis looked on him from under those goddess brows of hers and she
said to him: "By the divine power that I still possess I would have
made the child invulnerable; but the heel by which I held him has not
been endued by the fire and in that place some day he may be stricken.
All that the fire covered is invulnerable, and no weapon that strikes
there can destroy his life. His heel I cannot now make invulnerable,
for now the divine power is gone out of me."

When she said this Thetis looked full upon her husband, and never had
she seemed so unforgiving as she was then. All the divine radiance that
had remained with her was gone from her now, and she seemed a
white-faced and bitter-thinking woman. And when Peleus saw that such a
great bitterness faced him he fled from his house.

He traveled far from his own land, and first he went to the help of
Heracles, who was then in the midst of his mighty labors. Heracles was
building a wall around a city. Peleus labored, helping him to raise the
wall for King Laomedon. Then, one night, as he walked by the wall he
had helped to build, he heard voices speaking out of the earth. And one
voice said: "Why has Peleus striven so hard to raise a wall that his
son shall fight hard to overthrow?" No voice replied. The wall was
built, and Peleus departed. The city around which the wall was built
was the great city of Troy.

In whatever place he went Peleus was followed by the hatred of the
people of the sea, and above all by the hatred of the nymph who is
called Psamathe. Far, far from his own country he went, and at last he
came to a country of bright valleys that was ruled over by a kindly
king--by Ceyx, who was called the Son of the Morning Star.

Bright of face and kindly and peaceable in all his ways was this king,
and kindly and peaceable was the land that he ruled over. And when
Prince Peleus went to him to beg for his protection, and to beg for
unfurrowed fields where he might graze his cattle, Ceyx raised him up
from where he knelt. "Peaceable and plentiful is the land," he said,
"and all who come here may have peace and a chance to earn their food.
Live where you will, O stranger, and take the unfurrowed fields by the
seashore for pasture for your cattle."

Peace came into Peleus's heart as he looked into the untroubled face of
Ceyx, and as he looked over the bright valleys of the land he had come
into. He brought his cattle to the unfurrowed fields by the seashore
and he left herdsmen there to tend them. And as he walked along these
bright valleys he thought upon his wife and upon his son Achilles, and
there were gentle feelings in his breast. But then he thought upon the
enmity of Psamathe, the woman of the sea, and great trouble came over
him again. He felt he could not stay in the palace of the kindly king.
He went where his herdsmen camped and he lived with them. But the sea
was very near and its sound tormented him, and as the days went by,
Peleus, wild looking and shaggy, became more and more unlike the hero
whom once the gods themselves had honored.

One day as he was standing near the palace having speech with the king,
a herdsman ran to him and cried out: "Peleus, Peleus, a dread thing has
happened in the unfurrowed fields." And when he had got his breath the
herdsman told of the thing that had happened.

They had brought the herd down to the sea. Suddenly, from the marshes
where the sea and land came together, a monstrous beast rushed out upon
the herd; like a wolf this beast was, but with mouth and jaws that were
more terrible than a wolf's even. The beast seized upon the cattle. Yet
it was not hunger that made it fierce, for the beasts that it killed it
tore, but did not devour. Tit rushed on and on, killing and tearing
more and more of the herd. "Soon," said the herdsman, "it will have
destroyed all in the herd, and then it will not spare to destroy the
other flocks and herds that are in the land."

Peleus was stricken to hear that his herd was being destroyed, but more
stricken to know that the land of a friendly king would be ravaged, and
ravaged on his account. For he knew that the terrible beast that had
come from where the sea and the land joined had been sent by Psamathe.
He went up on the tower that stood near the king's palace. He was able
to look out on the sea and able to look over all the land. And looking
across the bright valleys he saw the dread beast. He saw it rush
through his own mangled cattle and fall upon the herds of the kindly
king. He looked toward the sea and he prayed to Psamathe to spare the
land that he had come to. But, even as he prayed, he knew that Psamathe
would not harken to him. Then he made a prayer to Thetis, to his wife
who had seemed so unforgiving. He prayed her to deal with Psamathe so
that the land of Ceyx would not be altogether destroyed.

As he looked from the tower he saw the king come forth with arms in his
hands for the slaying of the terrible beast. Peleus felt fear for the
life of the kindly king. Down from the tower he came, and taking up his
spear he went with Ceyx.

Soon, in one of the brightest of the valleys, they came upon the beast;
they came between it and a herd of silken-coated cattle. Seeing the men
it rushed toward them with blood and foam upon its jaws. Then Peleus
knew that the spears they carried would be of little use against the
raging beast. His only thought was to struggle with it so that the king
might be able to save himself.

Again he lifted up his hands and prayed to Thetis to draw away
Psamathe's enmity. The beast rushed toward them; but suddenly it
stopped. The bristles upon its body seemed to stiffen. The gaping jaws
became fixed. The hounds that were with them dashed upon the beast, but
then fell back with yelps of disappointment. And when Peleus and Ceyx
came to where it stood they found that the monstrous beast had been
turned into stone.

And a stone it remains in that bright valley, a wonder to all the men
of Ceyx's land. The country was spared the ravages of the beast. And
the heart of Peleus was uplifted to think that Thetis had harkened to
his prayer and had prevailed upon Psamathe to forego her enmity. Not
altogether unforgiving was his wife to him.

That day he went from the land of the bright valleys, from the land
ruled over by the kindly Ceyx, and he came back to rugged Phthia, his
own country. When he came near his hall he saw two at the doorway
awaiting him. Thetis stood there, and the child Achilles was by her
side. The radiance of the immortals was in her face no longer, but
there was a glow there, a glow of welcome for the hero Peleus. And thus
Peleus, long tormented by the enmity of the sea-born ones, came back to
the wife he had won from the sea.



III. THESEUS AND THE MINOTAUR

I

Thereafter Theseus made up his mind to go in search of his father, the
unknown king, and Medea, the wise woman, counseled him to go to Athens.
After the hunt in Calydon he set forth. On his way he fought with and
slew two robbers who harassed countries and treated people unjustly.

The first was Sinnias. He was a robber who slew men cruelly by tying
them to strong branches of trees and letting the branches fly apart. On
him Theseus had no mercy. The second was a robber also, Procrustes: he
had a great iron bed on which he made his captives lie; if they were
too long for that bed he chopped pieces off them, and if they were too
short he stretched out their bodies with terrible racks. On him,
likewise, Theseus had no mercy; he slew Procrustes and gave liberty to
his captives.

The King of Athens at the time was named Ægeus. He was father of
Theseus, but neither Theseus nor he knew that this was so. Aethra was
his mother, and she was the daughter of the King of Troezen. Before
Theseus was born his father left a great sword under a stone, telling
Aethra that the boy was to have the sword when he was able to move that
stone away.

King Ægeus was old and fearful now: there were wars and troubles in the
city; besides, there was in his palace an evil woman, a witch, to whom
the king listened. This woman heard that a proud and fearless young man
had come into Athens, and she at once thought to destroy him.

So the witch spoke to the fearful king, and she made him believe that
this stranger had come into Athens to make league with his enemies and
destroy him. Such was her power over Ægeus that she was able to
persuade him to invite the stranger youth to a feast in the palace, and
to give him a cup that would have poison in it.

Theseus came to the palace. He sat down to the banquet with the king.
But before the cup was brought something moved him to stand up and draw
forth the sword that he carried. Fearfully the king looked upon the
sword. Then he saw the heavy ivory hilt with the curious carving on it,
and he knew that this was the sword that he had once laid under the
stone near the palace of the King of Troezen. He questioned Theseus as
to how he had come by the sword, and Theseus told him how Aethra his
mother, had shown him where it was hidden, and how he had been able to
take it from under the stone before he was grown a youth. More and more
Ægeus questioned him, and he came to know that the youth before him was
his son indeed. He dashed down the cup that had been brought to the
table, and he shook all over with the thought of how near he had been
to a terrible crime. The witch-woman watched all that passed; mounting
on a car drawn by dragons she made flight from Athens.

And now the people of the city, knowing that it was he who had slain
the robbers Sinnias and Procrustes, rejoiced to have Theseus amongst
them. When he appeared as their prince they rejoiced still more. Soon
he was able to bring to an end the wars in the city and the troubles
that afflicted Athens.


II

The greatest king in the world at that time was Minos, King of Crete.
Minos had sent his son to Athens to make peace and friendship between
his kingdom and the kingdom of King Ægeus. But the people of Athens
slew the son of King Minos, and because Ægeus had not given him the
protection that a king should have given a stranger come upon such an
errand he was deemed to have some part in the guilt of his slaying.

Minos, the great king, was wroth, and he made war on Athens, wreaking
great destruction upon the country and the people. Moreover, the gods
themselves were wroth with Athens; they punished the people with
famine, making even the rivers dry up. The Athenians went to the oracle
and asked Apollo what they should do to have their guilt taken away.
Apollo made answer that they should make peace with Minos and fulfill
all his demands.

All this Theseus now heard, learning for the first time that behind the
wars and troubles in Athens there was a deed of evil that Ægeus, his
father, had some guilt in.

The demands that King Minos made upon Athens were terrible. He demanded
that the Athenians should send into Crete every year seven youths and
seven maidens as a price for the life of his son. And these youths and
maidens were not to meet death merely, nor were they to be reared in
slavery they were to be sent that a monster called the Minotaur might
devour them.

Youths and maidens had been sent, and for the third time the messengers
of King Minos were coming to Athens. The tribute for the Minotaur was
to be chosen by lot. The fathers and mothers were in fear and
trembling, for each man and woman thought that his or her son or
daughter would be taken for a prey for the Minotaur.

They came together, the people of Athens, and they drew the lots
fearfully. And on the throne above them all sat their pale-faced king,
Ægeus, the father of Theseus.

Before the first lot was drawn Theseus turned to all of them and said,
"People of Athens, it is not right that your children should go and
that I, who am the son of King Ægeus, should remain behind. Surely, if
any of the youths of Athens should face the dread monster of Crete, I
should face it. There is one lot that you may leave undrawn. I will go
to Crete."

His father, on hearing the speech of Theseus, came down from his throne
and pleaded with him, begging him not to go. But the will of Theseus
was set; he would go with the others and face the Minotaur. And he
reminded his father of how the people had complained, saying that if
Ægeus had done the duty of a king, Minos's son would not have been
slain and the tribute to the Minotaur would have not been demanded. It
was the passing about of such complaints that had led to the war and
troubles that Theseus found on his coming to Athens.

Also Theseus told his father and told the people that he had hope in
his hands--that the hands that were strong enough to slay Sinnias and
Procrustes, the giant robbers, would be strong enough to slay the dread
monster of Crete. His father at last consented to his going. And
Theseus was able to make the people willing to believe that he would be
able to overcome the Minotaur, and so put an end to the terrible
tribute that was being exacted from them.

With six other youths and seven maidens Theseus went on board of the
ship that every year brought to Crete the grievous tribute. This ship
always sailed with black sails. But before it sailed this time King
Ægeus gave to Nausitheus, the master of the ship, a white sail to take
with him. And he begged Theseus, that in case he should be able to
overcome the monster, to hoist the white sail he had given. Theseus
promised he would do this. His father would watch for the return of the
ship, and if the sail were black he would know that the Minotaur had
dealt with his son as it had dealt with the other youths who had gone
from Athens. And if the sail were white Ægeus would have indeed cause
to rejoice.


III

And now the black-sailed ship had come to Crete, and the youths and
maidens of Athens looked from its deck on Knossos, the marvelous city
that Daedalus the builder had built for King Minos. And they saw the
palace of the king, the red and black palace in which was the
labyrinth, made also by Daedalus, where the dread Minotaur was hidden.

In fear they looked upon the city and the palace. But not in fear did
Theseus look, but in wonder at the magnificence of it all--the harbor
with its great steps leading up into the city, the far-spreading palace
all red and black, and the crowds of ships with their white and red
sails. They were brought through the city of Knossos to the palace of
the king. And there Theseus looked upon Minos. In a great red chamber
on which was painted the sign of the axe, King Minos sat.

On a low throne he sat, holding in his hand a scepter on which a bird
was perched. Not in fear, but steadily, did Theseus look upon the king.
And he saw that Minos had the face of one who has thought long upon
troublesome things, and that his eyes were strangely dark and deep. The
king noted that the eyes of Theseus were upon him, and he made a sign
with his head to an attendant and the attendant laid his hand upon him
and brought Theseus to stand beside the king. Minos questioned him as
to who he was and what lands he had been in, and when he learned that
Theseus was the son of Ægeus, the King of Athens, he said the name of
his son who had been slain, "Androgeus, Androgeus," over and over
again, and then spoke no more.

While he stood there beside the king there came into the chamber three
maidens; one of them, Theseus knew, was the daughter of Minos. Not like
the maidens of Greece were the princess and her two attendants: instead
of having on flowing garments and sandals and wearing their hair bound,
they had on dresses of gleaming material that were tight at the waists
and bell-shaped; the hair that streamed on their shoulders was made
wavy; they had on high shoes of a substance that shone like glass.
Never had Theseus looked upon maidens who were so strange.

They spoke to the king in the strange Cretan language; then Minos's
daughter made reverence to her father, and they went from the chamber.
Theseus watched them as they went through a long passage, walking
slowly on their high-heeled shoes.

Through the same passage the youths and maidens of Athens were
afterward brought. They came into a great hall. The walls were red and
on them were paintings in black--pictures of great bulls with girls and
slender youths struggling with them. It was a place for games and
shows, and Theseus stood with the youths and maidens of Athens and with
the people of the palace and watched what was happening.

They saw women charming snakes; then they saw a boxing match, and
afterward they all looked on a bout of wrestling. Theseus looked past
the wrestlers and he saw, at the other end of the hall, the daughter of
King Minos and her two attendant maidens.

One broad-shouldered and bearded man--overthrew all the wrestlers who
came to grips with him. He stood there boastfully, and Theseus was made
angry by the man's arrogance. Then, when no other wrestler would come
against him, he turned to leave the arena.

But Theseus stood in his way and pushed him back. The boastful man laid
hands upon him and pulled him into the arena. He strove to throw
Theseus as he had thrown the others; but he soon found that the youth
from Greece was a wrestler, too, and that he would have to strive hard
to overthrow him.

More eagerly than they had watched anything else the people of the
palace and the youths and maidens of Athens watched the bout between
Theseus and the lordly wrestler. Those from Athens who looked upon him
now thought that they had never seen Theseus look so tall and so
conquering before; beside the slender, dark-haired people of Crete he
looked like a statue of one of the gods.

Very adroit was the Cretan wrestler, and Theseus had to use all his
strength to keep upon his feet; but soon he mastered the tricks that
the wrestler was using against him. Then the Cretan left aside his
tricks and began to use all his strength to throw Theseus.

Steadily Theseus stood and the Cretan wrestler was spent and gasping in
the effort to throw him. Then Theseus made him feel his grip. He bent
him backward, and then, using all his strength suddenly, forced him to
the ground. All were filled with wonder at the strength and power of
this youth from overseas.

Food and wine were given the youths and maidens of Athens, and they
with Theseus were let wander through the grounds of the palace. But
they could make no escape, for guards followed them and the way to the
ships was filled with strangers who would not let them pass. They
talked to each other about the Minotaur, and there was fear in every
word they said. But Theseus went from one to the other, telling them
that perhaps there was a way by which he could come to the monster and
destroy it. And the youths and maidens, remembering how he had
overthrown the lordly wrestler, were comforted a little, thinking that
Theseus might indeed be able to destroy the Minotaur and so save all of
them.


IV

Theseus was awakened by some one touching him. He arose and he saw a
dark-faced servant, who beckoned to him. He left the little chamber
where he had been sleeping, and then he saw outside one who wore the
strange dress of the Cretans.

When Theseus looked full upon her he saw that she was none other than
the daughter of King Minos. "I am Ariadne," she said, "and, O youth
from Greece, I have come to save you from the dread Minotaur."

He looked upon Ariadne's strange face with its long, dark eyes, and he
wondered how this girl could think that she could save him and save the
youths and maidens of Athens from the Minotaur. Her hand rested upon
his arm, and she led him into the chamber where Minos had sat. It was
lighted now by many little lamps.

"I will show the way of escape to you," said Ariadne.

Then Theseus looked around, and he saw that none of the other youths
and maidens were near them, and he looked on Ariadne again, and he saw
that the strange princess had been won to help him, and to help him
only.

"Who will show the way of escape to the others?" asked Theseus.

"Ah," said the Princess Ariadne, "for the others there is no way of
escape."

"Then," said Theseus, "I will not leave the youths and maidens of
Athens who came with me to Crete to be devoured by the Minotaur."

"Ah, Theseus," said Ariadne, "they cannot escape the Minotaur. One only
may escape, and I want you to be that one. I saw you when you wrestled
with Deucalion, our great wrestler, and since then I have longed to
save you."

"I have come to slay the Minotaur," said Theseus, "and I cannot hold my
life as my own until I have slain it."

Said Ariadne, "If you could see the Minotaur, Theseus, and if you could
measure its power, you would know that you are not the one to slay it.
I think that only Talos, that giant who was all of bronze, could have
slain the Minotaur."

"Princess," said Theseus, "can you help me to come to the Minotaur and
look upon it so that I can know for certainty whether this hand of mine
can slay the monster?"

"I can help you to come to the Minotaur and look upon it," said Ariadne.

"Then help me, princess," cried Theseus; "help me to come to the
Minotaur and look upon it, and help me, too, to get back the sword that
I brought with me to Crete."

"Your sword will not avail you against the Minotaur," said Ariadne;
"when you look upon the monster you will know that it is not for your
hand to slay."

"Oh, but bring me my sword, princess," cried Theseus, and his hands
went out to her in supplication.

"I will bring you your sword," said she.

She took up a little lamp and went through a doorway, leaving Theseus
standing by the low throne in the chamber of Minos. Then after a little
while she came back, bringing with her Theseus's great ivory-hilted
sword.

"It is a great sword," she said; "I marked it before because it is your
sword, Theseus. But even this great sword will not avail against the
Minotaur."

"Show me the way to come to the Minotaur, O Ariadne," cried Theseus.

He knew that she did not think that he would deem himself able to
strive with the Minotaur, and that when he looked upon the dread
monster he would return to her and then take the way of his escape.

She took his hand and led him from the chamber of Minos. She was not
tall, but she stood straight and walked steadily, and Theseus saw in
her something of the strange majesty that he had seen in Minos the king.

They came to high bronze gates that opened into a vault. "Here," said
Ariadne, "the labyrinth begins. Very devious is the labyrinth, built by
Daedalus, in which the Minotaur is hidden, and without the clue none
could find a way through the passages. But I will give you the clue so
that you may look upon the Minotaur and then come back to me. Theseus,
now I put into your hand the thread that will guide you through all the
windings of the labyrinth. And outside the place where the Minotaur is
you will find another thread to guide you back."

A cone was on the ground and it had a thread fastened to it. Ariadne
gave Theseus the thread and the cone to wind it around. The thread as
he held it and wound it around the cone would bring him through all the
windings and turnings of the labyrinth.

She left him, and Theseus went on. Winding the thread around the cone
he went along a wide passage in the vault. He turned and came into a
passage that was very long. He came to a place in this passage where a
door seemed to be, but within the frame of the doorway there was only a
blank wall. But below that doorway there was a flight of six steps, and
down these steps the thread led him. On he went, and he crossed the
marks that he himself had made in the dust, and he thought he must have
come back to the place where he had parted from Ariadne. He went on,
and he saw before him a flight of steps. The thread did not lead up the
steps; it led into the most winding of passages. So sudden were the
turnings in it that one could not see three steps before one. He was
dazed by the turnings of this passage, but still he went on. He went up
winding steps and then along a narrow wall. The wall overhung a broad
flight of steps, and Theseus had to jump to them. Down the steps he
went and into a wide, empty hall that had doorways to the right hand
and to the left hand. Here the thread had its end. It was fastened to a
cone that lay on the ground, and beside this cone was another--the clue
that was to bring him back.

Now Theseus, knowing he was in the very center of the labyrinth, looked
all around for sight of the Minotaur. There was no sight of the monster
here. He went to all the doors and pushed at them, and some opened and
some remained fast. The middle door opened. As it did Theseus felt
around him a chilling draft of air.

That chilling draft was from the breathing of the monster. Theseus then
saw the Minotaur. It lay on the ground, a strange, bull-faced thing.

When the thought came to Theseus that he would have to fight that
monster alone and in that hidden and empty place all delight left him;
he grew like a stone; he groaned, and it seemed to him that he heard
the voice of Ariadne calling him back. He could find his way back
through the labyrinth and come to her. He stepped back, and the door
closed on the Minotaur, the dread monster of Crete.

In an instant Theseus pushed the door again. He stood within the hall
where the Minotaur was, and the heavy door shut behind him. He looked
again on that dark, bull-faced thing. It reared up as a horse rears and
Theseus saw that it would crash down on him and tear him with its
dragon claws. With a great bound he went far away from where the
monster crashed down. Then Theseus faced it: he saw its thick lips and
its slobbering mouth; he saw that its skin was thick and hard.

He drew near the monster, his sword in his hand. He struck at its eyes,
and his sword made a great dint. But no blood came, for the Minotaur
was a bloodless monster. From its mouth and nostrils came a draft that
covered him with a chilling slime.

Then it rushed upon him and overthrew him, and Theseus felt its
terrible weight upon him. But he thrust his sword upward, and it reared
up again, screaming with pain. Theseus drew himself away, and then he
saw it searching around and around, and he knew he had made it
sightless. Then it faced him; all the more fearful it was because from
its wounds no blood came.

Anger flowed into Theseus when he saw the monster standing frightfully
before him; he thought of all the youths and maidens that this
bloodless thing had destroyed, and all the youths and maidens that it
would destroy if he did not slay it now. Angrily he rushed upon it with
his great sword. It clawed and tore him, and it opened wide its most
evil mouth as if to draw him into it. But again he sprang at it; he
thrust his great sword through its neck, and he left his sword there.

With the last of his strength he pulled open the heavy door and he went
out from the hall where the Minotaur was. He picked up the thread and
he began to wind it as he had wound the other thread on his way down.
On he went, through passage after passage, through chamber after
chamber. His mind was dizzy, and he had little thought for the way he
was going. His wounds and the chill that the monster had breathed into
him and his horror of the fearful and bloodless thing made his mind
almost forsake him. He kept the thread in his hand and he wound it as
he went on through the labyrinth. He stumbled and the thread broke. He
went on for a few steps and then he went back to find the thread that
had fallen out of his hands. In an instant he was in a part of the
labyrinth that he had not been in before.

He walked a long way, and then he came on his own footmarks as they
crossed themselves in the dust. He pushed open a door and came into the
air. He was now by the outside wall of the palace, and he saw birds
flying by him. He leant against the wall of the palace, thinking that
he would strive no more to find his way through the labyrinth.


V

That day the youths and maidens of Athens were brought through the
labyrinth and to the hall where the Minotaur was. They went through the
passages weeping and lamenting. Some cried out for Theseus, and some
said that Theseus had deserted them. The heavy door was opened. Then
those who were with the youths and maidens saw the Minotaur lying stark
and stiff with Theseus's sword through its neck. They shouted and blew
trumpets and the noise of their trumpets filled the labyrinth. Then
they turned back, bringing the youths and maidens with them, and a
whisper went through the whole palace that the Minotaur had been slain.
The youths and maidens were lodged in the chamber where Minos gave his
judgments.


VI

Theseus, wearied and overcome, fell into a deep sleep by the wall of
the palace. He awakened with a feeling that the claw of the Minotaur
was upon him. There were stars in the sky above the high palace wall,
and he saw a dark-robed and ancient man standing beside him. Theseus
knew that this was Daedalus, the builder of the palace and the
labyrinth. Daedalus called and a slim youth came Icarus, the son of
Daedalus. Minos had set father and son apart from the rest of the
palace, and Theseus had come near the place where they were confined.
Icarus came and brought him to a winding stairway and showed him a way
to go.

A dark-faced servant met and looked him full in the face. Then, as if
he knew that Theseus was the one whom he had been searching for, he led
him into a little chamber where there were three maidens. One started
up and came to him quickly, and Theseus again saw Ariadne.

She hid him in the chamber of the palace where her singing birds were,
and she would come and sit beside him, asking about his own country and
telling him that she would go with him there. "I showed you how you
might come to the Minotaur," she said, "and you went there and you slew
the monster, and now I may not stay in my father's palace."

And Theseus thought all the time of his return, and of how he might
bring the youths and maidens of Athens back to their own people. For
Ariadne, that strange princess, was not dear to him as Medea was dear
to Jason, or Atalanta the Huntress to young Meleagrus.

One sunset she led him to a roof of the palace and she showed him the
harbor with the ships, and she showed him the ship with the black sail
that had brought him to Knossos. She told him she would take him aboard
that ship, and that the youths and maidens of Athens could go with
them. She would bring to the master of the ship the seal of King Minos,
and the master, seeing it, would set sail for whatever place Theseus
desired to go.

Then did she become dear to Theseus because of her great kindness, and
he kissed her eyes and swore that he would not go from the palace
unless she would come with him to his own country. The strange princess
smiled and wept as if she doubted what he said. Nevertheless, she led
him from the roof and down into one of the palace gardens. He waited
there, and the youths and maidens of Athens were led into the garden,
all wearing cloaks that hid their forms and faces. Young Icarus led
them from the grounds of the palace and down to the ships. And Ariadne
went with them, bringing with her the seal of her father, King Minos.

And when they came on board of the black-sailed ship they showed the
seal to the master, Nausitheus, and the master of the ship let the sail
take the breeze of the evening, and so Theseus went away from Crete.


VII

To the Island of Naxos they sailed. And when they reached that place
the master of the ship, thinking that what had been done was not in
accordance with the will of King Minos, stayed the ship there. He
waited until other ships came from Knossos. And when they came they
brought word that Minos would not slay nor demand back Theseus nor the
youths and maidens of Athens. His daughter, Ariadne, he would have
back, to reign with him over Crete.

Then Ariadne left the black-sailed ship, and went back to Crete from
Naxos. Theseus let the princess go, although he might have struggled to
hold her. But more strange than dear did Ariadne remain to Theseus.

And all this time his father, Ægeus, stayed on the tower of his palace,
watching for the return of the ship that had sailed for Knossos. The
life of the king wasted since the departure of Theseus, and now it was
but a thread. Every day he watched for the return of the ship, hoping
against hope that Theseus would return alive to him. Then a ship came
into the harbor. It had black sails. Ægeus did not know that Theseus
was aboard of it, and that Theseus in the hurry of his flight and in
the sadness of his parting from Ariadne had not thought of taking out
the white sail that his father had given to Nausitheus.

Joyously Theseus sailed into the harbor, having slain the Minotaur and
lifted for ever the tribute put upon Athens. Joyously he sailed into
the harbor, bringing back to their parents the youths and maidens of
Athens. But the king, his father, saw the black sails on his ship, and
straightway the thread of his life broke, and he died on the roof of
the tower which he had built to look out on the sea.

Theseus landed on the shore of his own country. He had the ship drawn
up on the beach and he made sacrifices of thanksgiving to the gods.
Then he sent messengers to the city to announce his return. They went
toward the city, these joyful messengers, but when they came to the
gate they heard the sounds of mourning and lamentation. The mourning
and the lamentation were for the death of the king, Theseus's father.
They hurried back and they came to Theseus where he stood on the beach.
They brought a wreath of victory for him, but as they put it into his
hand they told him of the death of his father. Then Theseus left the
wreath on the ground, and he wept for the death of Ægeus--of Ægeus, the
hero, who had left the sword under the stone for him before he was born.

The men and women who came to the beach wept and laughed as they
clasped in their arms the children brought back to them. And Theseus
stood there, silent and bowed; the memory of his last moments with his
father, of his fight with the Minotaur, of his parting with
Ariadne--all flowed back upon him. He stood there with head bowed, the
man who might not put upon his brows the wreath of victory that had
been brought to him.


VIII

There had come into the city a youth of great valor whose name was
Peirithous: from a far country he had come, filled with a desire of
meeting Theseus, whose fame had come to him. The youth was in Athens at
the time Theseus returned. He went down to the beach with the
townsfolk, and he saw Theseus standing alone with his head bowed down.
He went to him and he spoke, and Theseus lifted his head and he saw
before him a young man of strength and beauty. He looked upon him, and
the thought of high deeds came into his mind again. He wanted this
young man to be his comrade in dangers and upon quests. And Peirithous
looked upon Theseus, and he felt that he was greater and nobler than he
had thought. They became friends and sworn brothers, and together they
went into far countries.

Now there was in Epirus a savage king who had a very fair daughter. He
had named this daughter Persephone, naming her thus to show that she
was held as fast by him as that other Persephone was held who ruled in
the Underworld. No man might see her, and no man might wed her. But
Peirithous had seen the daughter of this king, and he desired above all
things to take her from her father and make her his wife. He begged
Theseus to help him enter that king's palace and carry off the maiden.

So they came to Epirus, Theseus and Peirithous, and they entered the
king's palace, and they heard the bay of the dread hound that was there
to let no one out who had once come within the walls. Suddenly the
guards of the savage king came upon them, and they took Theseus and
Peirithous and they dragged them down into dark dungeons.

Two great chairs of stone were there, and Theseus and Peirithous were
left seated in them. And the magic powers that were in the chairs of
stone were such that the heroes could not lift themselves out of them.
There they stayed, held in the great stone chairs in the dungeons of
that savage king.

Then it so happened that Heracles came into the palace of the king. The
harsh king feasted Heracles and abated his savagery before him. But he
could not forbear boasting of how he had trapped the heroes who had
come to carry off Persephone. And he told how they could not get out of
the stone chairs and how they were held captive in his dark dungeon.
Heracles listened, his heart full of pity for the heroes from Greece
who had met with such a harsh fate. And when the king mentioned that
one of the heroes was Theseus, Heracles would feast no more with him
until he had promised that the one who had been his comrade on the Argo
would be let go.

The king said he would give Theseus his liberty if Heracles would carry
the stone chair on which he was seated out of the dungeon and into the
outer world. Then Heracles went down into the dungeon. He found the two
heroes in the great chairs of stone. But one of them, Peirithous, no
longer breathed. Heracles took the great chair of stone that Theseus
was seated in, and he carried it up, up, from the dungeon and out into
the world. It was a heavy task even for Heracles. He broke the chair in
pieces, and Theseus stood up, released.

Thereafter the world was before Theseus. He went with Heracles, and in
the deeds that Heracles was afterward to accomplish Theseus shared.



IV. THE LIFE AND LABORS OF HERACLES

I

Heracles was the son of Zeus, but he was born into the family of a
mortal king. When he was still a youth, being overwhelmed by a madness
sent upon him by one of the goddesses, he slew the children of his
brother Iphicles. Then, coming to know what he had done, sleep and rest
went from him: he went to Delphi, to the shrine of Apollo, to be
purified of his crime.

At Delphi, at the shrine of Apollo, the priestess purified him, and
when she had purified him she uttered this prophecy: "From this day
forth thy name shall be, not Alcides, but Heracles. Thou shalt go to
Eurystheus, thy cousin, in Mycenæ, and serve him in all things. When
the labors he shall lay upon thee are accomplished, and when the rest
of thy life is lived out, thou shalt become one of the immortals."
Heracles, on hearing these words, set out for Mycenæ.

He stood before his cousin who hated him; he, a towering man, stood
before a king who sat there weak and trembling. And Heracles said, "I
have come to take up the labors that you will lay upon me; speak now,
Eurystheus, and tell me what you would have me do."

Eurystheus, that weak king, looking on the young man who stood as tall
and as firm as one of the immortals, had a heart that was filled with
hatred. He lifted up his head and he said with a frown:

"There is a lion in Nemea that is stronger and more fierce than any
lion known before. Kill that lion, and bring the lion's skin to me that
I may know that you have truly performed your task." So Eurystheus
said, and Heracles, with neither shield nor arms, went forth from the
king's palace to seek and to combat the dread lion of Nemea.

He went on until he came into a country where the fences were
overthrown and the fields wasted and the houses empty and fallen. He
went on until he came to the waste around that land: there he came on
the trail of the lion; it led up the side of a mountain, and Heracles,
without shield or arms, followed the trail.

He heard the roar of the lion. Looking up he saw the beast standing at
the mouth of a cavern, huge and dark against the sunset. The lion
roared three times, and then it went within the cavern.

Around the mouth were strewn the bones of creatures it had killed and
carried there. Heracles looked upon them when he came to the cavern. He
went within. Far into the cavern he went, and then he came to where he
saw the lion. It was sleeping.

Heracles viewed the terrible bulk of the lion, and then he looked upon
his own knotted hands and arms. He remembered that it was told of him
that, while still a child of eight months, he had strangled a great
serpent that had come to his cradle to devour him. He had grown and his
strength had grown too.

So he stood, measuring his strength and the size of the lion. The
breath from its mouth and nostrils came heavily to him as the beast
slept, gorged with its prey. Then the lion yawned. Heracles sprang on
it and put his great hands upon its throat. No growl came out of its
mouth, but the great eyes blazed while the terrible paws tore at
Heracles. Against the rock Heracles held the beast; strongly he held
it, choking it through the skin that was almost impenetrable. Terribly
the lion struggled; but the strong hands of the hero held around its
throat until it struggled no more.

Then Heracles stripped off that impenetrable skin from the lion's body;
he put it upon himself for a cloak. Then, as he went through the
forest, he pulled up a young oak tree and trimmed it and made a club
for himself. With the lion's skin over him--that skin that no spear or
arrow could pierce--and carrying the club in his hand he journeyed on
until he came to the palace of King Eurystheus.

The king, seeing coming toward him a towering man all covered with the
hide of a monstrous lion, ran and hid himself in a great jar. He lifted
the lid up to ask the servants what was the meaning of this terrible
appearance. And the servants told him that it was Heracles come back
with the skin of the lion of Nemea. On hearing this Eurystheus hid
himself again.

He would not speak with Heracles nor have him come near him, so fearful
was he. But Heracles was content to be left alone. He sat down in the
palace and feasted himself.

The servants came to the king; Eurystheus lifted the lid of the jar and
they told him how Heracles was feasting and devouring all the goods in
the palace. The king flew into a rage, but still he was fearful of
having the hero before him. He issued commands through his heralds
ordering Heracles to go forth at once and perform the second of his
tasks.

It was to slay the great water snake that made its lair in the swamps
of Lerna. Heracles stayed to feast another day, and then, with the
lion's skin across his shoulders and the great club in his hands, he
started off. But this time he did not go alone; the boy Iolaus went
with him.


Heracles and Iolaus went on until they came to the vast swamp of Lerna.
Right in the middle of the swamp was the water snake that was called
the Hydra. Nine heads it had, and it raised them up out of the water as
the hero and his companion came near. They could not cross the swamp to
come to the monster, for man or beast would sink and be lost in it.

The Hydra remained in the middle of the swamp belching mud at the hero
and his companion. Then Heracles took up his bow and he shot flaming
arrows at its heads. It grew into such a rage that it came through the
swamp to attack him. Heracles swung his club. As the Hydra came near he
knocked head after head off its body.

But for every head knocked off two grew upon the Hydra. And as he
struggled with the monster a huge crab came out of the swamp, and
gripping Heracles by the foot tried to draw him in. Then Heracles cried
out. The boy Iolaus came; he killed the crab that had come to the
Hydra's aid.

Then Heracles laid hands upon the Hydra and drew it out of the swamp.
With his club he knocked off a head and he had Iolaus put fire to where
it had been, so that two heads might not grow in that place. The life
of the Hydra was in its middle head; that head he had not been able to
knock off with his club. Now, with his hands he tore it off, and he
placed this head under a great stone so that it could not rise into
life again. The Hydra's life was now destroyed. Heracles dipped his
arrows into the gall of the monster, making his arrows deadly; no thing
that was struck by these arrows afterward could keep its life.

Again he came to Eurystheus's palace, and Eurystheus, seeing him, ran
again and hid himself in the jar. Heracles ordered the servants to tell
the king that he had returned and that the second labor was
accomplished.

Eurystheus, hearing from the servants that Heracles was mild in his
ways, came out of the jar. Insolently he spoke. "Twelve labors you have
to accomplish for me," said he to Heracles, "and eleven yet remain to
be accomplished."

"How?" said Heracles. "Have I not performed two of the labors? Have I
not slain the lion of Nemea and the great water snake of Lerna?"

"In the killing of the water snake you were helped by Iolaus," said the
king, snapping out his words and looking at Heracles with shifting
eyes. "That labor cannot be allowed you."

Heracles would have struck him to the ground. But then he remembered
that the crime that he had committed in his madness would have to be
expiated by labors performed at the order of this man. He looked full
upon Eurystheus and he said, "Tell me of the other labors, and I will
go forth from Mycenæ and accomplish them."

Then Eurystheus bade him go and make clean the stables of King Augeias.
Heracles came into that king's country. The smell from the stables was
felt for miles around. Countless herds of cattle and goats had been in
the stables for years, and because of the uncleanness and the smell
that came from it the crops were withered all around. Heracles told the
king that he would clean the stables if he were given one tenth of the
cattle and the goats for a reward.

The king agreed to this reward. Then Heracles drove the cattle and the
goats out of the stables; he broke through the foundations and he made
channels for the two rivers Alpheus and Peneius. The waters flowed
through the stables, and in a day all the uncleanness was washed away.
Then Heracles turned the rivers back into their own courses.

He was not given the reward he had bargained for, however.

He went back to Mycenæ with the tale of how he had cleaned the stables.
"Ten labors remain for me to do now," he said.

"Eleven," said Eurystheus. "How can I allow the cleaning of King
Augeias's stables to you when you bargained for a reward for doing it?"

Then while Heracles stood still, holding himself back from striking
him, Eurystheus ran away and hid himself in the jar. Through his
heralds he sent word to Heracles, telling him what the other labors
would be.

He was to clear the marshes of Stymphalus of the maneating birds that
gathered there; he was to capture and bring to the king the
golden-horned deer of Coryneia; he was also to capture and bring alive
to Myceaæ the boar of Erymanthus.

Heracles came to the marshes of Stymphalus. The growth of jungle was so
dense that he could not cut his way through to where the man-eating
birds were; they sat upon low bushes within the jungle, gorging
themselves upon the flesh they had carried there.

For days Heracles tried to hack his way through. He could not get to
where the birds were. Then, thinking he might not be able to accomplish
this labor, he sat upon the ground in despair.

It was then that one of the immortals appeared to him; for the first
and only time he was given help from the gods.

It was Athena who came to him. She stood apart from Heracles, holding
in her hands brazen cymbals. These she clashed together. At the sound
of this clashing the Stymphalean birds rose up from the low bushes
behind the jungle. Heracles shot at them with those unerring arrows of
his. The maneating birds fell, one after the other, into the marsh.

Then Heracles went north to where the Coryneian deer took her pasture.
So swift of foot was she that no hound nor hunter had ever been able to
overtake her. For the whole of a year Heracles kept Golden Horns in
chase, and at last, on the side of the Mountain Artemision, he caught
her. Artemis, the goddess of the wild things, would have punished
Heracles for capturing the deer, but the hero pleaded with her, and she
relented and agreed to let him bring the deer to Mycenæ and show her to
King Eurystheus. And Artemis took charge of Golden Horns while Heracles
went off to capture the Erymanthean boar.

He came to the city of Psophis, the inhabitants of which were in deadly
fear because of the ravages of the boar. Heracles made his way up the
mountain to hunt it. Now on this mountain a band of centaurs lived, and
they, knowing him since the time he had been fostered by Chiron,
welcomed Heracles. One of them, Pholus, took Heracles to the great
house where the centaurs had their wine stored.

Seldom did the centaurs drink wine; a draft of it made them wild, and
so they stored it away, leaving it in the charge of one of their band.
Heracles begged Pholus to give him a draft of wine; after he had begged
again and again the centaur opened one of his great jars.

Heracles drank wine and spilled it. Then the centaurs that were without
smelt the wine and came hammering at the door, demanding the drafts
that would make them wild. Heracles came forth to drive them away. They
attacked him. Then he shot at them with his unerring arrows and he
drove them away. Up the mountain and away to far rivers the centaurs
raced, pursued by Heracles with his bow.

One was slain, Pholus, the centaur who had entertained him. By accident
Heracles dropped a poisoned arrow on his foot. He took the body of
Pholus up to the top of the mountain and buried the centaur there.
Afterward, on the snows of Erymanthus, he set a snare for the boar and
caught him there.

Upon his shoulders he carried the boar to Myceaæ and he led the deer by
her golden horns. When Eurystheus bad looked upon them the boar was
slain, but the deer was loosed and she fled back to the Mountain
Artemision.

King Eurystheus sat hidden in the great jar, and he thought of more
terrible labors he would make Heracles engage in. Now he would send him
oversea and make him strive with fierce tribes and more dread monsters.
When he had it all thought out he had Heracles brought before him and
he told him of these other labors.

He was to go to savage Thrace and there destroy the man-eating horses
of King Diomedes; afterward he was to go amongst the dread women, the
Amazons, daughters of Ares, the god of war, and take from their queen,
Hippolyte, the girdle that Ares had given her; then he was to go to
Crete and take from the keeping of King Minos the beautiful bull that
Poseidon had given him; afterward he was to go to the Island of
Erytheia and take away from Geryoneus, the monster that had three
bodies instead of one, the herd of red cattle that the two-headed hound
Orthus kept guard over; then he was to go to the Garden of the
Hesperides, and from that garden he was to take the golden apples that
Zeus had given to Hera for a marriage gift--where the Garden of the
Hesperides was no mortal knew.

So Heracles set out on a long and perilous quest. First he went to
Thrace, that savage land that was ruled over by Diomedes, son of Ares,
the war god. Heracles broke into the stable where the horses were; he
caught three of them by their heads, and although they kicked and bit
and trampled he forced them out of the stable and down to the seashore,
where his companion, Abderus, waited for him. The screams of the fierce
horses were heard by the men of Thrace, and they, with their king, came
after Heracles. He left the horses in charge of Abderus while he fought
the Thracians and their savage king.

Heracles shot his deadly arrows amongst them, and then he fought with
their king. He drove them from the seashore, and then he came back to
where he had left Abderus with the fierce horses.

They had thrown Abderus upon the ground, and they were trampling upon
him. Heracles drew his bow and he shot the horses with the unerring
arrows that were dipped with the gall of the Hydra he had slain.
Screaming, the horses of King Diomedes raced toward the sea, but one
fell and another fell, and then, as it came to the line of the foam,
the third of the fierce horses fell. They were all slain with the
unerring arrows. Then Heracles took up the body of his companion and he
buried it with proper rights, and over it he raised a column.
Afterward, around that column a city that bore the name of Heracles's
friend was built.

Then toward the Euxine Sea he went. There, where the River Themiscyra
flows into the sea he saw the abodes of the Amazons. And upon the rocks
and the steep place he saw the warrior women standing with drawn bows
in their hands. Most dangerous did they seem to Heracles. He did not
know how to approach them; he might shoot at them with his unerring
arrows, but when his arrows were all shot away, the Amazons, from their
steep places, might be able to kill him with the arrows from their bows.

While he stood at a distance, wondering what he might do, a horn was
sounded and an Amazon mounted upon a white stallion rode toward him.
When the warrior-woman came near she cried out, "Heracles, the Queen
Hippolyte permits you to come amongst the Amazons. Enter her tent and
declare to the queen what has brought you amongst the never-conquered
Amazons."

Heracles came to the tent of the queen. There stood tall Hippolyte with
an iron crown upon her head and with a beautiful girdle of bronze and
iridescent glass around her waist. Proud and fierce as a mountain eagle
looked the queen of the Amazons: Heracles did not know in what way he
might conquer her. Outside the tent the Amazons stood; they struck
their shields with their spears, keeping up a continuous savage din.

"For what has Heracles come to the country of the Amazons?" Queen
Hippolyte asked.

"For the girdle you wear," said Heracles, and he held his hands ready
for the struggle.

"Is it for the girdle given me by Ares, the god of war, that you have
come, braving the Amazons, Heracles?" asked the queen.

"For that," said Heracles.

"I would not have you enter into strife with the Amazons," said Queen
Hippolyte. And so saying she drew off the girdle of bronze and
iridescent glass, and she gave it into his hands.

Heracles took the beautiful girdle into his hands. Fearful he was that
some piece of guile was being played upon him, but then he looked into
the open eyes of the queen and he saw that she meant no guile. He took
the girdle and he put it around his great brows; then he thanked
Hippolyte and he went from the tent. He saw the Amazons standing on the
rocks and the steep places with bows bent; unchallenged he went on, and
he came to his ship and he sailed away from that country with one more
labor accomplished.

The labor that followed was not dangerous. He sailed over sea and he
came to Crete, to the land that King Minos ruled over. And there he
found, grazing in a special pasture, the bull that Poseidon had given
King Minos. He laid his hands upon the bull's horns and he struggled
with him and he overthrew him. Then he drove the bull down to the
seashore.

His next labor was to take away the herd of red cattle that was owned
by the monster Geryoneus. In the Island of Erytheia, in the middle of
the Stream of Ocean, lived the monster, his herd guarded by the
two-headed hound Orthus--that hound was the brother of Cerberus, the
three-headed hound that kept guard in the Underworld.

Mounted upon the bull given Minos by Poseidon, Heracles fared across
the sea. He came even to the straits that divide Europe from Africa,
and there he set up two pillars as a memorial of his journey--the
Pillars of Heracles that stand to this day. He and the bull rested
there. Beyond him stretched the Stream of Ocean; the Island of Erytheia
was there, but Heracles thought that the bull would not be able to bear
him so far.

And there the sun beat upon him, and drew all strength away from him,
and he was dazed and dazzled by the rays of the sun. He shouted out
against the sun, and in his anger he wanted to strive against the sun.
Then he drew his bow and shot arrows upward. Far, far out of sight the
arrows of Heracles went. And the sun god, Helios, was filled with
admiration for Heracles, the man who would attempt the impossible by
shooting arrows at him; then did Helios fling down to Heracles his
great golden cup.

Down, and into the Stream of Ocean fell the great golden cup of Helios.
It floated there wide enough to hold all the men who might be in a
ship. Heracles put the bull of Minos into the cup of Helios, and the
cup bore them away, toward the west, and across the Stream of Ocean.

Thus Heracles came to the Island of Erytheia. All over the island
straggled the red cattle of Geryoneus, grazing upon the rich pastures.
Heracles, leaving the bull of Minos in the cup, went upon the island;
he made a club for himself out of a tree and he went toward the cattle.

The hound Orthus bayed and ran toward him; the two-headed hound that
was the brother of Cerberus sprang at Heracles with poisonous foam upon
his jaws. Heracles swung his club and struck the two heads off the
hound. And where the foam of the hound's jaws dropped down a poisonous
plant sprang up. Heracles took up the body of the hound, and swung it
around and flung it far out into the Ocean.

Then the monster Geryoneus came upon him. Three bodies he had instead
of one; he attacked Heracles by hurling great stones at him. Heracles
was hurt by the stones. And then the monster beheld the cup of Helios,
and he began to hurl stones at the golden thing, and it seemed that he
might sink it in the sea, and leave Heracles without a way of getting
from the island. Heracles took up his bow and he shot arrow after arrow
at the monster, and he left him dead in the deep grass of the pastures.

Then he rounded up the red cattle, the bulls and the cows, and he drove
them down to the shore and into the golden cup of Helios where the bull
of Minos stayed. Then back across the Stream of Ocean the cup floated,
and the bull of Crete and the cattle of Geryoneus were brought past
Sicily and through the straits called the Hellespont. To Thrace, that
savage land, they came. Then Heracles took the cattle out, and the cup
of Helios sank in the sea. Through the wild lands of Thrace he drove
the herd of Geryoneus and the bull of Minos, and he came into Myceaæ
once more.

But he did not stay to speak with Eurystheus. He started off to find
the Garden of the Hesperides, the Daughters of the Evening Land. Long
did he search, but he found no one who could tell him where the garden
was. And at last he went to Chiron on the Mountain Pelion, and Chiron
told Heracles what journey he would have to make to come to the
Hesperides, the Daughters of the Evening Land.

Far did Heracles journey; weary he was when he came to where Atlas
stood, bearing the sky upon his weary shoulders. As he came near he
felt an undreamt-of perfume being wafted toward him. So weary was he
with his journey and all his toils that he would fain sink down and
dream away in that evening land. But he roused himself, and he
journeyed on toward where the perfume came from. Over that place a star
seemed always about to rise.

He came to where a silver lattice fenced a garden that was full of the
quiet of evening. Golden bees hummed through the air, and there was the
sound of quiet waters. How wild and laborious was the world he had come
from, Heracles thought! He felt that it would be hard for him to return
to that world.

He saw three maidens. They stood with wreaths upon their heads and
blossoming branches in their hands. When the maidens saw him they came
toward him crying out: "O man who has come into the Garden of the
Hesperides, go not near the tree that the sleepless dragon guards!"
Then they went and stood by a tree as if to keep guard over it. All
around were trees that bore flowers and fruit, but this tree had golden
apples amongst its bright green leaves.

Then he saw the guardian of the tree. Beside its trunk a dragon lay,
and as Heracles came near the dragon showed its glittering scales and
its deadly claws.

The apples were within reach, but the dragon, with its glittering
scales and claws, stood in the way. Heracles shot an arrow; then a
tremor went through Ladon, the sleepless dragon; it screamed and then
lay stark. The maidens cried in their grief; Heracles went to the tree,
and he plucked the golden apples and he put them into the pouch he
carried. Down on the ground sank the Hesperides, the Daughters of the
Evening Land, and he heard their laments as he went from the enchanted
garden they had guarded.

Back from the ends of the earth came Heracles, back from the place
where Atlas stood holding the sky upon his weary shoulders. He went
back through Asia and Libya and Egypt, and he came again to Myceaæ and
to the palace of Eurystheus.

He brought to the king the herd of Geryoneus; he brought to the king
the bull of Minos; he brought to the king the girdle of Hippolyte; he
brought to the king the golden apples of the Hesperides. And King
Eurystheus, with his thin white face, sat upon his royal throne and he
looked over all the wonderful things that the hero had brought him. Not
pleased was Eurystheus; rather was he angry that one he hated could win
such wonderful things.

He took into his hands the golden apples of the Hesperides. But this
fruit was not for such as he. An eagle snatched the branch from his
hand, and the eagle flew and flew until it came to where the Daughters
of the Evening Land wept in their garden. There the eagle let fall the
branch with the golden apples, and the maidens set it back upon the
tree, and behold! it grew as it had been growing before Heracles
plucked it.

The next day the heralds of Eurystheus came to Heracles and they told
him of the last labor that he would have to set out to accomplish--this
time he would have to go down into the Underworld, and bring up from
King Aidoneus's realm Cerberus, the three-headed hound.

Heracles put upon him the impenetrable lion's skin and set forth once
more. This might indeed be the last of his life's labors: Cerberus was
not an earthly monster, and he who would struggle with Cerberus in the
Underworld would have the gods of the dead against him.

But Heracles went on. He journeyed to the cave Tainaron, which was an
entrance to the Underworld. Far into that dismal cave he went, and then
down, down, until he came to Acheron, that dim river that has beyond it
only the people of the dead. Cerberus bayed at him from the place where
the dead cross the river. Knowing that he was no shade, the hound
sprang at Heracles, but he could neither bite nor tear through that
impenetrable lion's skin. Heracles held him by the neck of his middle
head so that Cerberus was neither able to bite nor tear nor bellow.

Then to the brink of Acheron came Persephone, queen of the Underworld.
She declared to Heracles that the gods of the dead would not strive
against him if he promised to bring Cerberus back to the Underworld,
carrying the hound downward again as he carried him upward.

This Heracles promised. He turned around and he carried Cerberus, his
hands around the monster's neck while foam dripped from his jaws. He
carried him on and upward toward the world of men. Out through a cave
that was in the land of Troezen Heracles came, still carrying Cerberus
by the neck of his middle head.

From Troezen to Myceaæ the hero went and men fled before him at the
sight of the monster that he carried. On he went toward the king's
palace. Eurystheus was seated outside his palace that day, looking at
the great jar that he had often hidden in, and thinking to himself that
Heracles would never appear to affright him again. Then Heracles
appeared. He called to Eurystheus, and when the king looked up he held
the hound toward him. The three heads grinned at Eurystheus; he gave a
cry and scrambled into the jar. But before his feet touched the bottom
of it Eurystheus was dead of fear. The jar rolled over, and Heracles
looked upon the body that was all twisted with fright. Then he turned
around and made his way back to the Underworld. On the brink of Acheron
he loosed Cerberus, and the bellow of the three-headed hound was heard
again.


II

It was then that Heracles was given arms by the gods the sword of
Hermes, the bow of Apollo, the shield made by Hephaestus; it was then
that Heracles joined the Argonauts and journeyed with them to the edge
of the Caucasus, where, slaying the vulture that preyed upon
Prometheus's liver, he, at the will of Zeus, liberated the Titan.
Thereafter Zeus and Prometheus were reconciled, and Zeus, that neither
might forget how much the enmity between them had cost gods and men,
had a ring made for Prometheus to wear; that ring was made out of the
fetter that had been upon him, and in it was set a fragment of the rock
that the Titan had been bound to.

The Argonauts had now won back to Greece. But before he saw any of them
he had been in Oichalia, and had seen the maiden Iole.

The king of Oichalia had offered his daughter Iole in marriage to the
hero who could excel himself and his sons in shooting with arrows.
Heracles saw Iole, the blue-eyed and childlike maiden, and he longed to
take her with him to some place near the Garden of the Hesperides. And
Iole looked on him, and he knew that she wondered to see him so tall
and so strongly knit even as he wondered to see her so childlike and
delicate.

Then the contest began. The king and his sons shot wonderfully well,
and none of the heroes who stood before Heracles had a chance of
winning. Then Heracles shot his arrows. No matter how far away they
moved the mark, Heracles struck it and struck the very center of it.
The people wondered who this great archer might be. And then a name was
guessed at and went around--Heracles!

When the king heard the name of Heracles he would not let him strive in
the contest any more. For the maiden Iole would not be given as a prize
to one who had been mad and whose madness might afflict him again. So
the king said, speaking in judgment in the market place.

Rage came on Heracles when he heard this judgment given. He would not
let his rage master him lest the madness that was spoken of should come
with his rage. So he left the city of Oichalia declaring to the king
and the people that he would return.

It was then that, wandering down to Crete, he heard of the Argonauts
being near. And afterward he heard of them being in Calydon, hunting
the boar that ravaged Oeneus's country. To Calydon Heracles went. The
heroes had departed when he came into the country, and all the city was
in grief for the deaths of Prince Meleagrus and his two uncles.

On the steps of the temple where Meleagrus and his uncles had been
brought Heracles saw Deianira, Meleagrus's sister. She was pale with
her grief, this tall woman of the mountains; she looked like a
priestess, but also like a woman who could cheer camps of men with her
counsel, her bravery, and her good companionship; her hair was very
dark and she had dark eyes.

Straightway she became friends with Heracles; and when they saw each
other for a while they loved each other. And Heracles forgot Iole, the
childlike maiden whom he had seen in Oichalia.

He made himself a suitor for Deianira, and those who protected her were
glad of Heracles's suit, and they told him they would give him the
maiden to marry as soon as the mourning for Prince Meleagrus and his
uncles was over. Heracles stayed in Calydon, happy with Deianira, who
had so much beauty, wisdom, and bravery.

But then a dreadful thing happened in Calydon; by an accident, while
using his strength unthinkingly, Heracles killed a lad who was related
to Deianira. He might not marry her now until he had taken punishment
for slaying one who was close to her in blood.

As a punishment for the slaying it was judged that Heracles should be
sold into slavery for three years. At the end of his three years'
slavery he could come back to Calydon and wed Deianira.

And so Heracles and Deianira were parted. He was sold as a slave in
Lydia; the one who bought him was a woman, a widow named Omphale. To
her house Heracles went, carrying his armor and wearing his lion's
skin. And Omphale laughed to see this tall man dressed in a lion's skin
coming to her house to do a servant's tasks for her.

She and all in her house kept up fun with Heracles. They would set him
to do housework, to carry water, and set vessels on the tables, and
clear the vessels away. Omphale set him to spin with a spindle as the
women did. And often she would put on Heracles's lion skin and go about
dragging his club, while he, dressed in woman's garb, washed dishes and
emptied pots.

But he would lose patience with these servant's tasks, and then Omphale
would let him go away and perform some great exploit. Often he went on
long journeys and stayed away for long times. It was while he was in
slavery to Omphale that he liberated Theseus from the dungeon in which
he was held with Peirithous, and it was while he still was in slavery
that he made his journey to Troy.

At Troy he helped to repair for King Laomedon the great walls that
years before Apollo and Poseidon had built around the city. As a reward
for this labor he was offered the Princess Hesione in marriage; she was
the daughter of King Laomedon, and the sister of Priam, who was then
called, not Priam but Podarces. He helped to repair the wall, and two
of the Argonauts were there to aid him: one was Peleus and the other
was Telamon. Peleus did not stay for long: Telamon stayed, and to
reward Telamon Heracles withdrew his own claim for the hand of the
Princess Hesione. It was not hard on Heracles to do this, for his
thoughts were ever upon Deianira.

But Telamon rejoiced, for he loved Hesione greatly. On the day they
married Heracles showed the two an eagle in the sky. He said it was
sent as an omen to them--an omen for their marriage. And in memory of
that omen Telamon named his son "Aias"; that is, "Eagle."

Then the walls of Troy were repaired and Heracles turned toward Lydia,
Omphale's home. Not long would he have to serve Omphale now, for his
three years' slavery was nearly over. Soon he would go back to Calydon
and wed Deianira.

As he went along the road to Lydia he thought of all the pleasantries
that had been made in Omphale's house and he laughed at the memory of
them. Lydia was a friendly country, and even though he had been in
slavery Heracles had had his good times there.

He was tired with the journey and made sleepy with the heat of the sun,
and when he came within sight of Omphale's house he lay down by the
side of the road, first taking off his armor, and laying aside his bow,
his quiver, and his shield. He wakened up to see two men looking down
upon him; he knew that these were the Cercopes, robbers who waylaid
travelers upon this road. They were laughing as they looked down on
him, and Heracles saw that they held his arms and his armor in their
hands.

They thought that this man, for all his tallness, would yield to them
when he saw that they had his arms and his armor. But Heracles sprang
up, and he caught one by the waist and the other by the neck, and he
turned them upside down and tied them together by the heels. Now he
held them securely and he would take them to the town and give them
over to those whom they had waylaid and robbed. He hung them by their
heels across his shoulders and marched on.

But the robbers, as they were being bumped along, began to relate
pleasantries and mirthful tales to each other, and Heracles, listening,
had to laugh. And one said to the other, "O my brother, we are in the
position of the frogs when the mice fell upon them with such fury." And
the other said, "Indeed nothing can save us if Zeus does not send an
ally to us as he sent an ally to the frogs." And the first robber said,
"Who began that conflict, the frogs or the mice?" And thereupon the
second robber, his head reaching down to Heracles's waist, began:


THE BATTLE OF THE FROGS AND MICE

A warlike mouse came down to the brink of a pond for no other reason
than to take a drink of water. Up to him hopped a frog. Speaking in the
voice of one who had rule and authority, the frog said:

"Stranger to our shore, you may not know it, but I am Puff Jaw, king of
the frogs. I do not speak to common mice, but you, as I judge, belong
to the noble and kingly sort. Tell me your race. If I know it to be a
noble one I shall show you my kingly friendship."

The mouse, speaking haughtily, said: "I am Crumb Snatcher, and my race
is a famous one. My father is the heroic Bread Nibbler, and he married
Quern Licker, the lovely daughter of a king. Like all my race I am a
warrior who has never been wont to flinch in battle. Moreover, I have
been brought up as a mouse of high degree, and figs and nuts, cheese
and honeycakes is the provender that I have been fed on."

Now this reply of Crumb Snatcher pleased the kingly frog greatly. "Come
with me to my abode, illustrious Crumb Snatcher," said he, "and I shall
show you such entertainment as may be found in the house of a king."

But the mouse looked sharply at him. "How may I get to your house?" he
asked. "We live in different elements, you and I. We mice want to be in
the driest of dry places, while you frogs have your abodes in the
water."

"Ah," answered Puff jaw, "you do not know how favored the frogs are
above all other creatures. To us alone the gods have given the power to
live both in the water and on the land. I shall take you to my land
palace that is the other side of the pond."

"How may I go there with you?" asked Crumb Snatcher the mouse,
doubtfully.

"Upon my back," said the frog. "Up now, noble Crumb Snatcher. And as we
go I will show you the wonders of the deep."

He offered his back and Crumb Snatcher bravely mounted. The mouse put
his forepaws around the frog's neck. Then Puff jaw swam out. Crumb
Snatcher at first was pleased to feel himself moving through the water.
But as the dark waves began to rise his mighty heart began to quail. He
longed to be back upon the land. He groaned aloud.

"How quickly we get on," cried Puff Jaw; "soon we shall be at my land
palace."

Heartened by this speech, Crumb Snatcher put his tail into the water
and worked it as a steering oar. On and on they went, and Crumb
Snatcher gained heart for the adventure. What a wonderful tale he would
have to tell to the clans of the mice!

But suddenly, out of the depths of the pond, a water snake raised his
horrid head. Fearsome did that head seem to both mouse and frog. And
forgetful of the guest that he carried upon his back, Puff jaw dived
down into the water. He reached the bottom of the pond and lay on the
mud in safety.

But far from safety was Crumb Snatcher the mouse. He sank and rose, and
sank again. His wet fur weighed him down. But before he sank for the
last time he lifted up his voice and cried out and his cry was heard at
the brink of the pond:

"Ah, Puff Jaw, treacherous frog! An evil thing you have done, leaving
me to drown in the middle of the pond. Had you faced me on the land I
should have shown you which of us two was the better warrior. Now I
must lose my life in the water. But I tell you my death shall not go
unavenged--the cowardly frogs will be punished for the ill they have
done to me who am the son of the king of the mice."

Then Crumb Snatcher sank for the last time. But Lick Platter, who was
at the brink of the pond, had heard his words. Straightway this mouse
rushed to the hole of Bread Nibbler and told him of the death of his
princely son.

Bread Nibbler called out the clans of the mice. The warrior mice armed
themselves, and this was the grand way of their arming:

First, the mice put on greaves that covered their forelegs. These they
made out of bean shells broken in two. For shield, each had a lamp's
centerpiece. For spears they had the long bronze needles that they had
carried out of the houses of men. So armed and so accoutered they were
ready to war upon the frogs. And Bread Nibbler, their king, shouted to
them: "Fall upon the cowardly frogs, and leave not one alive upon the
bank of the pond. Henceforth that bank is ours, and ours only. Forward!"

And, on the other side, Puff jaw was urging the frogs to battle. "Let
us take our places on the edge of the pond," he said, "and when the
mice come amongst us, let each catch hold of one and throw him into the
pond. Thus we will get rid of these dry bobs, the mice."

The frogs applauded the speech of their king, and straightway they went
to their armor and their weapons. Their legs they covered with the
leaves of mallow. For breastplates they had the leaves of beets.
Cabbage leaves, well cut, made their strong shields. They took their
spears from the pond side--deadly pointed rushes they were, and they
placed upon their heads helmets that were empty snail shells. So armed
and so accoutered they were ready to meet the grand attack of the mice.

When the robber came to this part of the story Heracles halted his
march, for he was shaking with laughter. The robber stopped in his
story. Heracles slapped him on the leg and said: "What more of the
heroic exploits of the mice?" The second robber said, "I know no more,
but perhaps my brother at the other side of you can tell you of the
mighty combat between them and the frogs." Then Heracles shifted the
first robber from his back to his front, and the first robber said: "I
will tell you what I know about the heroical combat between the frogs
and the mice." And thereupon he began:

The gnats blew their trumpets. This was the dread signal for war.

Bread Nibbler struck the first blow. He fell upon Loud Crier the frog,
and overthrew him. At this Loud Crier's friend, Reedy, threw down spear
and shield and dived into the water. This seemed to presage victory for
the mice. But then Water Larker, the most warlike of the frogs, took up
a great pebble and flung it at Ham Nibbler who was then pursuing Reedy.
Down fell Ham Nibbler, and there was dismay in the ranks of the mice.

Then Cabbage Climber, a great-hearted frog, took up a clod of mud and
flung it full at a mouse that was coming furiously upon him. That
mouse's helmet was knocked off and his forehead was plastered with the
clod of mud, so that he was well-nigh blinded.

It was then that victory inclined to the frogs. Bread Nibbler again
came into the fray. He rushed furiously upon Puff jaw the king.

Leeky, the trusted friend of Puff jaw, opposed Bread Nibbler's
onslaught. Mightily he drove his spear at the king of the mice. But the
point of the spear broke upon Bread Nibbler's shield, and then Leeky
was overthrown.

Bread Nibbler came upon Puff jaw, and the two great kings faced each
other. The frogs and the mice drew aside, and there was a pause in the
combat. Bread Nibbler the mouse struck Puff jaw the frog terribly upon
the toes.

Puff jaw drew out of the battle. Now all would have been lost for the
frogs had not Zeus, the father of the gods, looked down upon the battle.

"Dear, dear," said Zeus, "what can be done to save the frogs? They will
surely be annihilated if the charge of yonder mouse is not halted."

For the father of the gods, looking down, saw a warrior mouse coming on
in the most dreadful onslaught of the whole battle. Slice Snatcher was
the name of this warrior. He had come late into the field. He waited to
split a chestnut in two and to put the halves upon his paws. Then,
furiously dashing amongst the frogs, he cried out that he would not
leave the ground until he had destroyed the race, leaving the bank of
the pond a playground for the mice and for the mice alone.

To stop the charge of Slice Snatcher there was nothing for Zeus to do
but to hurl the thunderbolt that is the terror of gods and men.

Frogs and mice were awed by the thunder and the flame. But still the
mice, urged on by Slice Snatcher, did not hold back from their
onslaught upon the frogs.

Now would the frogs have been utterly destroyed; but, as they dashed
on, the mice encountered a new and a dreadful army. The warriors in
these ranks had mailed backs and curving claws. They had bandy legs and
long-stretching arms. They had eyes that looked behind them. They came
on sideways. These were the crabs, creatures until now unknown to the
mice. And the crabs had been sent by Zeus to save the race of the frogs
from utter destruction.

Coming upon the mice they nipped their paws. The mice turned around and
they nipped their tails. In vain the boldest of the mice struck at the
crabs with their sharpened spears. Not upon the hard shells on the
backs of the crabs did the spears of the mice make any dint. On and on,
on their queer feet and with their terrible nippers, the crabs went.
Bread Nibbler could not rally them any more, and Slice Snatcher ceased
to speak of the monument of victory that the mice would erect upon the
bank of the pond. With their heads out of the water they had retreated
to, the frogs watched the finish of the battle. The mice threw down
their spears and shields and fled from the battleground. On went the
crabs as if they cared nothing for their victory, and the frogs came
out of the water and sat upon the bank and watched them in awe.

Heracles had laughed at the diverting tale that the robbers had told
him; he could not bring them then to a place where they would meet with
captivity or death. He let them loose upon the highway, and the robbers
thanked him with high-flowing speeches, and they declared that if they
should ever find him sleeping by the roadway again they would let him
lie. Saying this they went away, and Heracles, laughing as he thought
upon the great exploits of the frogs and mice, went on to Omphale's
house.

Omphale, the widow, received him mirthfully, and then set him to do
tasks in the kitchen while she sat and talked to him about Troy and the
affairs of King Laomedon. And afterward she put on his lion's skin, and
went about in the courtyard dragging the heavy club after her.
Mirthfully and pleasantly she made the rest of his time in Lydia pass
for Heracles, and the last day of his slavery soon came, and he bade
good-by to Omphale, that pleasant widow, and to Lydia, and he started
off for Calydon to claim his bride Deianira.

Beautiful indeed Deianira looked now that she had ceased to mourn for
her brother, for the laughter that had been under her grief always now
flashed out even while she looked priestess-like and of good counsel;
her dark eyes shone like stars, and her being had the spirit of one who
wanders from camp to camp, always greeting friends and leaving friends
behind her. Heracles and Deianira wed, and they set out for Tiryns,
where a king had left a kingdom to Heracles.

They came to the River Evenus. Heracles could have crossed the river by
himself, but he could not cross it at the part he came to, carrying
Deianira. He and she went along the river, seeking a ferry that might
take them across. They wandered along the side of the river, happy with
each other, and they came to a place where they had sight of a centaur.

Heracles knew this centaur. He was Nessus, one of the centaurs whom he
had chased up the mountain the time when he went to hunt the
Erymanthean boar. The centaurs knew him, and Nessus spoke to Heracles
as if he had friendship for him. He would, he said, carry Heracles's
bride across the river.

Then Heracles crossed the river, and he waited on the other side for
Nessus and Deianira. Nessus went to another part of the river to make
his crossing. Then Heracles, upon the other bank, heard screams--the
screams of his wife, Deianira. He saw that the centaur was savagely
attacking her.

Then Heracles leveled his bow and he shot at Nessus. Arrow after arrow
he shot into the centaur's body. Nessus loosed his hold on Deianira,
and he lay down on the bank of the river, his lifeblood streaming from
him.

Then Nessus, dying, but with his rage against Heracles unabated,
thought of a way by which the hero might be made to suffer for the
death he had brought upon him. He called to Deianira, and she, seeing
he could do her no more hurt, came close to him. He told her that in
repentance for his attack upon her he would bestow a great gift upon
her. She was to gather up some of the blood that flowed from him; his
blood, the centaur said, would be a love philter, and if ever her
husband's love for her waned it would grow fresh again if she gave to
him something from her hands that would have this blood upon it.

Deianira, who had heard from Heracles of the wisdom of the centaurs,
believed what Nessus told her. She took a phial and let the blood pour
into it. Then Nessus plunged into the river and died there as Heracles
came up to where Deianira stood.

She did not speak to him about the centaur's words to her, nor did she
tell him that she had hidden away the phial that had Nessus's blood in
it. They crossed the river at another point and they came after a time
to Tiryns and to the kingdom that had been left to Heracles.

There Heracles and Deianira lived, and a son who was named Hyllos was
born to them. And after a time Heracles was led into a war with
Eurytus--Eurytus who was king of Oichalia.

Word came to Deianira that Oichalia was taken by Heracles, and that the
king and his daughter Iole were held captive. Deianira knew that
Heracles had once tried to win this maiden for his wife, and she feared
that the sight of Iole would bring his old longing back to him.

She thought upon the words that Nessus had said to her, and even as she
thought upon them messengers came from Heracles to ask her to send him
a robe--a beautifully woven robe that she had--that he might wear it
while making a sacrifice. Deianira took down the robe; through this
robe, she thought, the blood of the centaur could touch Heracles and
his love for her would revive. Thinking this she poured Nessus's blood
over the robe.

Heracles was in Oichalia when the messengers returned to him. He took
the robe that Deianira sent, and he went to a mountain that overlooked
the sea that he might make the sacrifice there. Iole went with him.
Then he put on the robe that Deianira had sent. When it touched his
flesh the robe burst into flame. Heracles tried to tear it off, but
deeper and deeper into his flesh the flames went. They burned and
burned and none could quench them.

Then Heracles knew that his end was near. He would die by fire, and
knowing that he piled up a great heap of wood and he climbed upon it.
There he stayed with the flaming robe burning into him, and he begged
of those who passed to fire the pile that his end might come more
quickly.

None would fire the pile. But at last there came that way a young
warrior named Philoctetes, and Heracles begged of him to fire the pile.
Philoctetes, knowing that it was the will of the gods that Heracles
should die that way, lighted the pile. For that Heracles bestowed upon
him his great bow and his unerring arrows. And it was this bow and
these arrows, brought from Philoctetes, that afterward helped to take
Priam's city.

The pile that Heracles stood upon was fired. High up, above the sea,
the pile burned. All who were near that burning fled--all except Iole,
that childlike maiden. She stayed and watched the flames mount up and
up. They wrapped the sky, and the voice of Heracles was heard calling
upon Zeus. Then a great chariot came and Heracles was borne away to
Olympus. Thus, after many labors, Heracles passed away, a mortal
passing into an immortal being in a great burning high above the sea.



V. ADMETUS

I

It happened once that Zeus would punish Apollo, his son. Then he
banished him from Olympus, and he made him put off his divinity and
appear as a mortal man. And as a mortal Apollo sought to earn his bread
amongst men. He came to the house of King Admetus and took service with
him as his herdsman.

For a year Apollo served the young king, minding his herds of black
cattle. Admetus did not know that it was one of the immortal gods who
was in his house and in his fields. But he treated him in friendly
wise, and Apollo was happy whilst serving Admetus.

Afterward people wondered at Admetus's ever-smiling face and
ever-radiant being. It was the god's kindly thought of him that gave
him such happiness. And when Apollo was leaving his house and his
fields he revealed himself to Admetus, and he made a promise to him
that when the god of the Underworld sent Death for him he would have
one more chance of baffling Death than any mortal man.

That was before Admetus sailed on the Argo with Jason and the
companions of the quest. The companionship of Admetus brought happiness
to many on the voyage, but the hero to whom it gave the most happiness
was Heracles. And often Heracles would have Admetus beside him to tell
him about the radiant god Apollo, whose bow and arrows Heracles had
been given.

After that voyage and after the hunt in Calydon Admetus went back to
his own land. There he wed that fair and loving woman, Alcestis. He
might not wed her until he had yoked lions and leopards to the chariot
that drew her. This was a feat that no hero had been able to
accomplish. With Apollo's aid he accomplished it. Thereafter Admetus,
having the love of Alcestis, was even more happy than he had been
before.

One day as he walked by fold and through pasture field he saw a figure
standing beside his herd of black cattle. A radiant figure it was, and
Admetus knew that this was Apollo come to him again. He went toward the
god and he made reverence and began to speak to him. But Apollo turned
to Admetus a face that was without joy.

"What years of happiness have been mine, O Apollo, through your
friendship for me," said Admetus. "Ah, as I walked my pasture land
today it came into my mind how much I loved this green earth and the
blue sky! And all that I know of love and happiness has come to me
through you."

But still Apollo stood before him with a face that was without joy. He
spoke and his voice was not that clear and vibrant voice that he had
once in speaking to Admetus. "Admetus, Admetus," he said, "it is for me
to tell you that you may no more look on the blue sky nor walk upon the
green earth. It is for me to tell you that the god of the Underworld
will have you come to him. Admetus, Admetus, know that even now the god
of the Underworld is sending Death for you."

Then the light of the world went out for Admetus, and he heard himself
speaking to Apollo in a shaking voice: "O Apollo, Apollo, thou art a
god, and surely thou canst save me! Save me now from this Death that
the god of the Underworld is sending for me!"

But Apollo said, "Long ago, Admetus, I made a bargain with the god of
the Underworld on thy behalf. Thou hast been given a chance more than
any mortal man. If one will go willingly in thy place with Death, thou
canst still live on. Go, Admetus. Thou art well loved, and it may be
that thou wilt find one to take thy place."

Then Apollo went up unto the mountaintop and Admetus stayed for a while
beside the cattle. It seemed to him that a little of the darkness had
lifted from the world. He would go to his palace. There were aged men
and women there, servants and slaves, and one of them would surely be
willing to take the king's place and go with Death down to the
Underworld.

So Admetus thought as he went toward the palace. And then he came upon
an ancient woman who sat upon stones in the courtyard, grinding corn
between two stones. Long had she been doing that wearisome labor.
Admetus had known her from the first time he had come into that
courtyard as a little child, and he had never seen aught in her face
but a heavy misery. There she was sitting as he had first known her,
with her eyes bleared and her knees shaking, and with the dust of the
courtyard and the husks of the corn in her matted hair. He went to her
and spoke to her, and he asked her to take the place of the king and go
with Death.

But when she heard the name of Death horror came into the face of the
ancient woman, and she cried out that she would not let Death come near
her. Then Admetus left her, and he came upon another, upon a sightless
man who held out a shriveled hand for the food that the servants of the
palace might bestow upon him. Admetus took the man's shriveled hand,
and he asked him if he would not take the king's place and go with
Death that was coming for him. The sightless man, with howls and
shrieks, said he would not go.

Then Admetus went into the palace and into the chamber where his bed
was, and he lay down upon the bed and he lamented that he would have to
go with Death that was coming for him from the god of the Underworld,
and he lamented that none of the wretched ones around the palace would
take his place.

A hand was laid upon him. He looked up and he saw his tall and
grave-eyed wife, Alcestis, beside him. Alcestis spoke to him slowly and
gravely. "I have heard what you have said, O my husband," said she.
"One should go in your place, for you are the king and have many great
affairs to attend to. And if none other will go, I, Alcestis, will go
in your place, Admetus."

It had seemed to Admetus that ever since he had heard the words of
Apollo that heavy footsteps were coming toward him. Now the footsteps
seemed to stop. It was not so terrible for him as before. He sprang up,
and he took the hands of Alcestis and he said, "You, then, will take my
place?"

"I will go with Death in your place, Admetus," Alcestis said.

Then, even as Admetus looked into her face, he saw a pallor come upon
her; her body weakened and she sank down upon the bed. Then, watching
over her, he knew that not he but Alcestis would go with Death. And the
words he had spoken he would have taken back--the words that had
brought her consent to go with Death in his place.

Paler and weaker Alcestis grew. Death would soon be here for her. No,
not here, for he would not have Death come into the palace. He lifted
Alcestis from the bed and he carried her from the palace. He carried
her to the temple of the gods. He laid her there upon the bier and
waited there beside her. No more speech came from her. He went back to
the palace where all was silent--the servants moved about with heads
bowed, lamenting silently for their mistress.


II

As Admetus was coming back from the temple he heard a great shout; he
looked up and saw one standing at the palace doorway. He knew him by
his lion's skin and his great height. This was Heracles--Heracles come
to visit him, but come at a sad hour. He could not now rejoice in the
company of Heracles. And yet Heracles might be on his way from the
accomplishment of some great labor, and it would not be right to say a
word that might turn him away from his doorway; he might have much need
of rest and refreshment.

Thinking this Admetus went up to Heracles and took his hand and
welcomed him into his house. "How is it with you, friend Admetus?"
Heracles asked. Admetus would only say that nothing was happening in
his house and that Heracles, his hero-companion, was welcome there. His
mind was upon a great sacrifice, he said, and so he would not be able
to feast with him.

The servants brought Heracles to the bath, and then showed him where a
feast was laid for him. And as for Admetus, he went within the chamber,
and knelt beside the bed on which Alcestis had lain, and thought of his
terrible loss.

Heracles, after the bath, put on the brightly colored tunic that the
servants of Admetus brought him. He put a wreath upon his head and sat
down to the feast. It was a pity, he thought, that Admetus was not
feasting with him. But this was only the first of many feasts. And
thinking of what companionship he would have with Admetus, Heracles
left the feasting hall and came to where the servants were standing
about in silence.

"Why is the house of Admetus so hushed to-day?" Heracles asked.

"It is because of what is befalling," said one of the servants.

"Ah, the sacrifice that the king is making," said Heracles. "To what
god is that sacrifice due?"

"To the god of the Underworld," said the servant. "Death is coming to
Alcestis the queen where she lies on a bier in the temple of the gods."

Then the servant told Heracles the story of how Alcestis had taken her
husband's place, going in his stead with Death. Heracles thought upon
the sorrow of his friend, and of the great sacrifice that his wife was
making for him. How noble it was of Admetus to bring him into his house
and give entertainment to him while such sorrow was upon him. And then
Heracles felt that another labor was before him.

"I have dragged up from the Underworld," he thought, "the hound that
guards those whom Death brings down into the realm of the god of the
Underworld. Why should I not strive with Death? And what a noble thing
it would be to bring back this faithful woman to her house and to her
husband! This is a labor that has not been laid upon me, and it is a
labor I will undertake." So Heracles said to himself.

He left the palace of Admetus and he went to the temple of the gods. He
stood inside the temple and he saw the bier on which Alcestis was laid.
He looked upon the queen. Death had not touched her yet, although she
lay so still and so silent. Heracles would watch beside her and strive
with Death for her.

Heracles watched and Death came. When Death entered the temple Heracles
laid hands upon him. Death had never been gripped by mortal hands and
he strode on as if that grip meant nothing to him. But then he had to
grip Heracles. In Death's grip there was a strength beyond strength.
And upon Heracles a dreadful sense of loss came as Death laid hands
upon him a sense of the loss of light and the loss of breath and the
loss of movement. But Heracles struggled with Death although his breath
went and his strength seemed to go from him. He held that stony body to
him, and the cold of that body went through him, and its stoniness
seemed to turn his bones to stone, but still Heracles strove with him,
and at last he overthrew him and he held Death down upon the ground.

"Now you are held by me, Death," cried Heracles. "You are held by me,
and the god of the Underworld will be--made angry because you cannot go
about his business--either this business or any other business. You are
held by me, Death, and you will not be let go unless you promise to go
forth from this temple without bringing one with you." And Death,
knowing that Heracles could hold him there, and that the business of
the god of the Underworld would be left undone if he were held,
promised that he would leave the temple without bringing one with him.
Then Heracles took his grip off Death, and that stony shape went from
the temple.

Soon a flush came into the face of Alcestis as Heracles watched over
her. Soon she arose from the bier on which she had been laid. She
called out to Admetus, and Heracles went to her and spoke to her,
telling her that he would bring her back to her husband's house.


III

Admetus left the chamber where his wife had lain and stood before the
door of his palace. Dawn was coming, and as he looked toward the temple
he saw Heracles coming to the palace. A woman came with him. She was
veiled, and Admetus could not see her features.

"Admetus," Heracles said, when he came before him, "Admetus, there is
something I would have you do for me. Here is a woman whom I am
bringing back to her husband. I won her from an enemy. Will you not
take her into your house while I am away on a journey?"

"You cannot ask me to do this, Heracles," said Admetus. "No woman may
come into the house where Alcestis, only yesterday, had her life."

"For my sake take her into your house," said Heracles. "Come now,
Admetus, take this woman by the hand."

A pang came to Admetus as he looked at the woman who stood beside
Heracles and saw that she was the same stature as his lost wife. He
thought that he could not bear to take her hand. But Heracles pleaded
with him, and he took her by the hand.

"Now take her across your threshold, Admetus," said Heracles.

Hardly could Admetus bear to do this--hardly could he bear to think of
a strange woman being in his house and his own wife gone with Death.
But Heracles pleaded with him, and by the hand he held he drew the
woman across his threshold.

"Now raise her veil, Admetus," said Heracles.

"This I cannot do," said Admetus. "I have had pangs enough. How can I
look upon a woman's face and remind myself that I cannot look upon
Alcestis's face ever again?"

"Raise her veil, Admetus," said Heracles. Then Admetus raised the veil
of the woman he had taken across the threshold of his house. He saw the
face of Alcestis. He looked again upon his wife brought back from the
grip of Death by Heracles, the son of Zeus. And then a deeper joy than
he had ever known came to Admetus. Once more his wife was with him, and
Admetus the friend of Apollo and the friend of Heracles had all that he
cared to have.



VI. HOW ORPHEUS THE MINSTREL WENT DOWN TO THE WORLD OF THE DEAD

Many were the minstrels who, in the early days, went through the world,
telling to men the stories of the gods, telling of their wars and their
births. Of all these minstrels none was so famous as Orpheus who had
gone with the Argonauts; none could tell truer things about the gods,
for he himself was half divine.

But a great grief came to Orpheus, a grief that stopped his singing and
his playing upon the lyre. His young wife Eurydice was taken from him.
One day, walking in the garden, she was bitten on the heel by a
serpent, and straightway she went down to the world of the dead.

Then everything in this world was dark and bitter for the minstrel
Orpheus; sleep would not come to him, and for him food had no taste.
Then Orpheus said: "I will do that which no mortal has ever done
before; I will do that which even the immortals might shrink from
doing: I will go down into the world of the dead, and I will bring back
to the living and to the light my bride Eurydice."

Then Orpheus went on his way to the valley of Acherusia which goes
down, down into the world of the dead. He would never have found his
way to that valley if the trees had not shown him the way. For as he
went along Orpheus played upon his lyre and sang, and the trees heard
his song and they were moved by his grief, and with their arms and
their heads they showed him the way to the deep, deep valley of
Acherusia.

Down, down by winding paths through that deepest and most shadowy of
all valleys Orpheus went. He came at last to the great gate that opens
upon the world of the dead. And the silent guards who keep watch there
for the rulers of the dead were affrighted when they saw a living
being, and they would not let Orpheus approach the gate.

But the minstrel, knowing the reason for their fear, said: "I am not
Heracles come again to drag up from the world of the dead your
three-headed dog Cerberus. I am Orpheus, and all that my hands can do
is to make music upon my lyre."

And then he took the lyre in his hands and played upon it. As he
played, the silent watchers gathered around him, leaving the gate
unguarded. And as he played the rulers of the dead came forth, Aidoneus
and Persephone, and listened to the words of the living man.

"The cause of my coming through the dark and fearful ways," sang
Orpheus, "is to strive to gain a fairer fate for Eurydice, my bride.
All that is above must come down to you at last, O rulers of the most
lasting world. But before her time has Eurydice been brought here. I
have desired strength to endure her loss, but I cannot endure it. And I
come before you, Aidoneus and Persephone, brought here by Love."

When Orpheus said the name of Love, Persephone, the queen of the dead,
bowed her young head, and bearded Aidoneus, the king, bowed his head
also. Persephone remembered how Demeter, her mother, had sought her all
through the world, and she remembered the touch of her mother's tears
upon her face. And Aidoneus remembered how his love for Persephone had
led him to carry her away from the valley in the upper world where she
had been gathering flowers. He and Persephone bowed their heads and
stood aside, and Orpheus went through the gate and came amongst the
dead.

Still upon his lyre he played. Tantalus--who, for his crimes, had been
condemned to stand up to his neck in water and yet never be able to
assuage his thirst--Tantalus heard, and for a while did not strive to
put his lips toward the water that ever flowed away from him;
Sisyphus--who had been condemned to roll up a hill a stone that ever
rolled back Sisyphus heard the music that Orpheus played, and for a
while he sat still upon his stone. And even those dread ones who bring
to the dead the memories of all their crimes and all their faults, even
the Eumenides had their cheeks wet with tears.

In the throng of the newly come dead Orpheus saw Eurydice. She looked
upon her husband, but she had not the power to come near him. But
slowly she came when Aidoneus called her. Then with joy Orpheus took
her hands.

It would be granted them--no mortal ever gained such privilege before
to leave, both together, the world of the dead, and to abide for
another space in the world of the living. One condition there would
be--that on their way up through the valley of Acherusia neither
Orpheus nor Eurydice should look back.

They went through the gate and came amongst the watchers that are
around the portals. These showed them the path that went up through the
valley of Acherusia. That way they went, Orpheus and Eurydice, he going
before her.

Up and up through the darkened ways they went, Orpheus knowing, that
Eurydice was behind him, but never looking back upon her. But as he
went, his heart was filled with things to tell--how the trees were
blossoming in the garden she had left; how the water was sparkling in
the fountain; how the doors of the house stood open, and how they,
sitting together, would watch the sunlight on the laurel bushes. All
these things were in his heart to tell her, to tell her who came behind
him, silent and unseen.

And now they were nearing the place where the valley of Acherusia
opened on the world of the living. Orpheus looked on the blue of the
sky. A white-winged bird flew by. Orpheus turned around and cried, "O
Eurydice, look upon the world that I have won you back to!"

He turned to say this to her. He saw her with her long dark hair and
pale face. He held out his arms to clasp her. But in that instant she
slipped back into the depths of the valley. And all he heard spoken was
a single word, "Farewell!" Long, long had it taken Eurydice to climb so
far, but in the moment of his turning around she had fallen back to her
place amongst the dead.

Down through the valley of Acherusia Orpheus went again. Again he came
before the watchers of the gate. But now he was not looked at nor
listened to, and, hopeless, he had to return to the world of the living.

The birds were his friends now, and the trees and the stones. The birds
flew around him and mourned with him; the trees and stones often
followed him, moved by the music of his lyre. But a savage band slew
Orpheus and threw his severed head and his lyre into the River Hebrus.
It is said by the poets that while they floated in midstream the lyre
gave out some mournful notes and the head of Orpheus answered the notes
with song.

And now that he was no longer to be counted with the living, Orpheus
went down to the world of the dead, not going now by that steep descent
through the valley of Acherusia, but going down straightway. The silent
watchers let him pass, and he went amongst the dead and saw his
Eurydice in the throng. Again they were together, Orpheus and Eurydice,
and as they went through the place that King Aidoneus ruled over, they
had no fear of looking back, one upon the other.



VII. JASON AND MEDEA

Jason and Medea, unable to win to Iolcus, staved at Corinth, at the
court of King Creon. Creon was proud to have Jason in his city, but of
Medea the king was fearful, for he had heard how she had brought about
the death of Apsyrtus, her brother.

Medea wearied of this long waiting in the palace of King Creon. A
longing came upon her to exercise her powers of enchantment. She did
not forget what Queen Arete had said to her--that if she wished to
appease the wrath of the gods she should have no more to do with
enchantments. She did not forget this, but still there grew in her a
longing to use all her powers of enchantment.

And Jason, at the court of King Creon, had his longings, too. He longed
to enter Iolcus and to show the people the Golden Fleece that he had
won; he longed to destroy Pelias, the murderer of his mother and
father; above all he longed to be a king, and to rule in the kingdom
that Cretheus had founded.

Once Jason spoke to Medea of his longing. "O Jason," Medea said, "I
have done many things for thee and this thing also I will do. I will go
into Iolcus, and by my enchantments I will make clear the way for the
return of the Argo and for thy return with thy comrades-yea, and for
thy coming to the kingship, O Jason."

He should have remembered then the words of Queen Arete to Medea, but
the longing that he had for his triumph and his revenge was in the way
of his remembering. He said, "O Medea, help me in this with all thine
enchantments and thou wilt be more dear to me than ever before thou
wert."

Medea then went forth from the palace of King Creon and she made more
terrible spells than ever she had made in Colchis. All night she stayed
in a tangled place weaving her spells. Dawn came, and she knew that the
spells she had woven had not been in vain, for beside her there stood a
car that was drawn by dragons.

Medea the Enchantress had never looked on these dragon shapes before.
When she looked upon them now she was fearful of them. But then she
said to herself, "I am Medea, and I would be a greater enchantress and
a more cunning woman than I have been, and what I have thought of, that
will I carry out." She mounted the car drawn by the dragons, and in the
first light of the day she went from Corinth.

To the places where grew the herbs of magic Medea journeyed in her
dragon-drawn car--to the Mountains Ossa, Pelion, Oethrys, Pindus, and
Olympus; then to the rivers Apidanus, Enipeus, and Peneus. She gathered
herbs on the mountains and grasses on the rivers' banks; some she
plucked up by the roots and some she cut with the curved blade of a
knife. When she had gathered these herbs and grasses she went back to
Corinth on her dragon-drawn car.

Then Jason saw her; pale and drawn was her face, and her eyes were
strange and gleaming. He saw her standing by the car drawn by the
dragons, and a terror of Medea came into his mind. He went toward her,
but in a harsh voice she bade him not come near to disturb the brewing
that she was going to begin. Jason turned away. As he went toward the
palace he saw Glauce, King Creon's daughter; the maiden was coming from
the well and she carried a pitcher of water. He thought how fair Glauce
looked in the light of the morning, how the wind played with her hair
and her garments, and how far away she was from witcheries and
enchantments.

As for Medea, she placed in a heap beside her the magic herbs and
grasses she had gathered. Then she put them in a bronze pot and boiled
them in water from the stream. Soon froth came on the boiling, and
Medea stirred the pot with a withered branch of an apple tree. The
branch was withered it was indeed no more than a dry stick, but as she
stirred the herbs and grasses with it, first leaves, then flowers, and
lastly, bright gleaming apples came on it. And when the pot boiled over
and drops from it fell upon the ground, there grew up out of the dry
earth soft grasses and flowers. Such was the power of renewal that was
in the magical brew that Medea had made.

She filled a phial with the liquid she had brewed, and she scattered
the rest in the wild places of the garden. Then, taking the phial and
the apples that had grown on the withered branch, she mounted the car
drawn by the dragons, and she went once more from Corinth.

On she journeyed in her dragon-drawn car until she came to a place that
was near to Iolcus. There the dragons descended. They had come to a
dark pool. Medea, making herself naked, stood in that dark pool. For a
while she looked down upon herself, seeing in the dark water her white
body and her lovely hair. Then she bathed herself in the water. Soon a
dread change came over her: she saw her hair become scant and gray, and
she saw her body become bent and withered. She stepped out of the pool
a withered and witchlike woman; when she dressed herself the rich
clothes that she had worn before hung loosely upon her, and she looked
the more forbidding because of them. She bade the dragons go, and they
flew through the air with the empty car. Then she hid in her dress the
phial with the liquid she had brewed and, the apples that had grown
upon the withered branch. She picked up a stick to lean upon, and with
the gait of an ancient woman she went hobbling upon the road to Iolcus.

On the streets of the city the fierce fighting men that Pelias had
brought down from the mountains showed themselves; few of the men or
women of the city showed themselves even in the daytime. Medea went
through the city and to the palace of King Pelias. But no one might
enter there, and the guards laid hands upon her and held her.

Medea did not struggle with them. She drew from the folds of her dress
one of the gleaming apples that she carried and she gave it to one of
the guards. "It is for King Pelias," she said. "Give the apple to him
and then do with me as the king would have you do."

The guards brought the gleaming apple to the king. When he had taken it
into his hand and had smelled its fragrance, old trembling Pelias asked
where the apple had come from. The guards told him it had been brought
by an ancient woman who was now outside seated on a stone in the
courtyard.

He looked on the shining apple and he felt its fragrance and he could
not help thinking, old trembling Pelias, that this apple might be the
means of bringing him back to the fullness of health and courage that
he had had before. He sent for the ancient woman who had brought it
that she might tell him where it had come from and who it was that had
sent it to him. Then the guards brought Medea before him.

She saw an old man, white-faced and trembling, with shaking hands and
eyes that looked on her fearfully. "Who are you," he asked, "and from
whence came the apple that you had them bring me?"

Medea, standing before him, looked a withered and shrunken beldame, a
woman bent with years, but yet with eyes that were bright and living.
She came near him and she said: "The apple, O King, came from the
garden that is watched over by the Daughters of the Evening Land. He
who eats it has a little of the weight of old age taken from him. But
things more wonderful even than the shining apples grow in that far
garden. There are plants there the juices of which make youthful again
all aged and failing things. The apple would bring you a little way
toward the vigor of your prime. But the juices I have can bring you to
a time more wonderful--back even to the strength and the glory of your
youth."

When the king heard her say this a light came into his heavy eyes, and
his hands caught Medea and drew her to him. "Who are you?" he cried,
"who speak of the garden watched over by the Daughters of the Evening
Land? Who are you who speak of juices that can bring back one to the
strength and glory of his youth?"

Medea answered: "I am a woman who has known many and great griefs, O
king. My griefs have brought me through the world. Many have searched
for the garden watched over by the Daughters of the Evening Land, but I
came to it unthinkingly, and without wanting them I gathered the
gleaming apples and took from the plants there the juices that can
bring youth back."

Pelias said: "If you have been able to come by those juices, how is it
that you remain in woeful age and decrepitude?"

She said: "Because of my many griefs, king, I would not renew my life.
I would be ever nearer death and the end of all things. But you are a
king and have all things you desire at your hand--beauty and state and
power. Surely if any one would desire it, you would desire to have
youth back to you."

Pelias, when he heard her say this, knew that besides youth there was
nothing that he desired. After crimes that had gone through the whole
of his manhood he had secured for himself the kingdom that Cretheus had
founded. But old age had come on him, and the weakness of old age, and
the power he had won was falling from his hands. He would be overthrown
in his weakness, or else he would soon come to die, and there would be
an end then to his name and to his kingship.

How fortunate above all kings he would be, he thought, if it could be
that some one should come to him with juices that would renew his
youth! He looked longingly into the eyes of the ancient-seeming woman
before him, and he said: "How is it that you show no gains from the
juices that you speak of? You are old and in woeful decrepitude. Even
if you would not win back to youth you could have got riches and state
for that which you say you possess."

Then Medea said: "I have lost so much and have suffered so much that I
would not have youth back at the price of facing the years. I would
sink down to the quiet of the grave. But I hope for some ease before I
die--for the ease that is in king's houses, with good food to eat, and
rest, and servants to wait upon one's aged body. These are the things I
desire, O Pelias, even as you desire youth. You can give me such
things, and I have come to you who desire youth eagerly rather than to
kings who have a less eager desire for it. To you I will give the
juices that bring one back to the strength and the glory of youth."

Pelias said: "I have only your word for it that you possess these
juices. Many there are who come and say deceiving things to a king."

Said Medea: "Let there be no more words between us, O king. To-morrow I
will show you the virtue of the juices I have brought with me. Have a
great vat prepared--a vat that a man could lay himself in with the
water covering him. Have this vat filled with water, and bring to it
the oldest creature you can get--a ram or a goat that is the oldest of
their flock. Do this, O king, and you will be shown a thing to wonder
at and to be hopeful over."

So Medea said, and then she turned around and left the king's presence.
Pelias called to his guards and he bade them take the woman into their
charge and treat her considerately. The guards took Medea away. Then
all day the king mused on what had been told him and a wild hope kept
beating about his heart. He had the servants prepare a great vat in the
lower chambers, and he had his shepherd bring him a ram that was the
oldest in the flock.

Only Medea was permitted to come into that chamber with the king; the
ways to it were guarded, and all that took place in it was secret.
Medea was brought to the closed door by her guard. She opened it and
she saw the king there and the vat already prepared; she saw a ram
tethered near the vat.

Medea looked upon the king. In the light of the torches his face was
white and fierce and his mouth moved gaspingly. She spoke to him
quietly, and said: "There is no need for you to hear me speak. You will
watch a great miracle, for behold! the ram which is the oldest and
feeblest in the flock will become young and invigorated when it comes
forth from this vat."

She untethered the ram, and with the help of Pelias drew it to the vat.
This was not hard to do, for the beast was very feeble; its feet could
hardly bear it upright, its wool was yellow and stayed only in patches
on its shrunken body. Easily the beast was forced into the vat. Then
Medea drew the phial out of her bosom and poured into the water some of
the brew she had made in Creon's garden in Corinth. The water in the
vat took on a strange bubbling, and the ram sank down.

Then Medea, standing beside the vat, sang an incantation.

"O Earth," she sang, "O Earth who dost provide wise men with potent
herbs, O Earth help me now. I am she who can drive the clouds; I am she
who can dispel the winds; I am she who can break the jaws of serpents
with my incantations; I am she who can uproot living trees and rocks;
who can make the mountains shake; who can bring the ghosts from their
tombs. O Earth, help me now." At this strange incantation the mixture
in the vat boiled and bubbled more and more. Then the boiling and
bubbling ceased. Up to the surface came the ram. Medea helped it to
struggle out of the vat, and then it turned and smote the vat with its
head.

Pelias took down a torch and stood before the beast. Vigorous indeed
was the ram, and its wool was white and grew evenly upon it. They could
not tether it again, and when the servants were brought into the
chamber it took two of them to drag away the ram.

The king was most eager to enter the vat and have Medea put in the brew
and speak the incantation over it. But Medea bade him wait until the
morrow. All night the king lay awake, thinking of how he might regain
his youth and his strength and be secure and triumphant thereafter.

At the first light he sent for Medea and he told her that he would have
the vat made ready and that he would go into it that night. Medea
looked upon him, and the helplessness that he showed made her want to
work a greater evil upon him, or, if not upon him, upon his house. How
soon it would have reached its end, all her plot for the destruction of
this king! But she would leave in the king's house a misery that would
not have an end so soon.

So she said to the king: "I would say the incantation over a beast of
the field, but over a king I could not say it. Let those of your own
blood be with you when you enter the vat that will bring such change to
you. Have your daughters there. I will give them the juice to mix in
the vat, and I will teach them the incantation that has to be said."

So she said, and she made Pelias consent to having his daughters and
not Medea in the chamber of the vat. They were sent for and they came
before Medea, the daughters of King Pelias.

They were women who had been borne down by the tyranny of their father;
they stood before him now, two dim-eyed creatures, very feeble and
fearful. To them Medea gave the phial that had in it the liquid to mix
in the vat; also she taught them the words of the incantation, but she
taught them to use these words wrongly.

The vat was prepared in the lower chambers; Pelias and his daughters
went there, and the chamber was guarded, and what happened there was in
secret. Pelias went into the vat; the brew was thrown into it, and the
vat boiled and bubbled as before. Pelias sank down in it. Over him then
his daughters said the magic words as Medea had taught them.

Pelias sank down, but he did not rise again. The hours went past and
the morning came, and the daughters of King Pelias raised frightened
laments. Over the sides of the vat the mixture boiled and bubbled, and
Pelias was to be seen at the bottom with his limbs stiffened in death.

Then the guards came, and they took King Pelias out of the vat and left
him in his royal chamber. The word went through the palace that the
king was dead. There was a hush in the palace then, but not the hush of
grief. One by one servants and servitors stole away from the palace
that was hated by all. Then there was clatter in the streets as the
fierce fighting men from the mountains galloped away with what plunder
they could seize. And through all this the daughters of King Pelias sat
crouching in fear above the body of their father.

And Medea, still an ancient woman seemingly, went through the crowds
that now came on the streets of the city. She told those she went
amongst that the son of Æson was alive and would soon be in their
midst. Hearing this the men of the city formed a council of elders to
rule the people until Jason's coming. In such way Medea brought about
the end of King Pelias's reign.

In triumph she went through the city. But as she was passing the temple
her dress was caught and held, and turning around she faced the ancient
priestess of Artemis, Iphias. "Thou art Æetes's daughter," Iphias said,
"who in deceit didst come into Iolcus. Woe to thee and woe to Jason for
what thou hast done this day! Not for the slaying of Pelias art thou
blameworthy, but for the misery that thou hast brought upon his
daughters by bringing them into the guilt of the slaying. Go from the
city, daughter of King Ætes; never, never wilt thou come back into it."

But little heed did Medea pay to the ancient priestess, Iphias. Still
in the guise of an old woman she went through the streets of the city,
and out through the gate and along the highway that led from Iolcus. To
that dark pool she came where she had bathed herself before. But now
she did not step into the pool nor pour its water over her shrinking
flesh; instead she built up two altars of green sods an altar to Youth
and an altar to Hecate, queen of the witches; she wreathed them with
green boughs from the forest, and she prayed before each. Then she made
herself naked, and she anointed herself with the brew she had made from
the magical herbs and grasses. All marks of age and decrepitude left
her, and when she stood over the dark pool and looked down on herself
she saw that her body was white and shapely as before, and that her
hair was soft and lovely.

She stayed all night between the tangled wood and the dark pool, and
with the first light the car drawn by the scaly dragons came to her.
She mounted the car, and she journeyed back to Corinth.

Into Jason's mind a fear of Medea had come since the hour when he had
seen her mount the car drawn by the scaly dragons. He could not think
of her any more as the one who had been his companion on the Argo. He
thought of her as one who could help him and do wonderful things for
him, but not as one whom he could talk softly and lovingly to. Ah, but
if Jason had thought less of his kingdom and less of his triumphing
with the Fleece of Gold, Medea would not have had the dragons come to
her.

And now that his love for Medea had altered, Jason noted the loveliness
of another--of Glauce, the daughter of Creon, the King of Corinth. And
Glauce, who had red lips and the eyes of a child, saw in Jason who had
brought the Golden Fleece out of Colchis the image of every hero she
had heard about in stories. Creon, the king, often brought Jason and
Glauce together, for his hope was that the hero would wed his daughter
and stay in Corinth and strengthen his kingdom. He thought that Medea,
that strange woman, could not keep a companionship with Jason.

Two were walking in the king's garden, and they were Jason and Glauce.
A shadow fell between them, and when Jason looked up he saw Medea's
dragon car. Down flew the dragons, and Medea came from the car and
stood between Jason and the princess. Angrily she spoke to him. "I have
made the kingdom ready for your return," she said, "but if you would go
there you must first let me deal in my own way with this pretty
maiden." And so fiercely did Medea look upon her that Glance shrank
back and clung to Jason for protection. "O, Jason," she cried, "thou
didst say that I am such a one as thou didst dream of when in the
forest with Chiron, before the adventure of the Golden Fleece drew thee
away from the Grecian lands. Oh, save me now from the power of her who
comes in the dragon car." And Jason said: "I said all that thou hast
said, and I will protect thee, O Glauce."

And then Medea thought of the king's house she had left for Jason, and
of the brother whom she had let be slain, and of the plot she had
carried out to bring Jason back to Iolcus, and a great fury came over
her. In her hand she took foam from the jaws of the dragons, and she
cast the foam upon Glauce, and the princess fell back into the arms of
Jason with the dragon foam burning into her.

Then, seeing in his eyes that he had forgotten all that he owed to her
the winning of the Golden Fleece, and the safety of Argo, and the
destruction of the power of King Pelias seeing in his eyes that Jason
had forgotten all this, Medea went into her dragon-borne car and spoke
the words that made the scaly dragons bear her aloft. She flew from
Corinth, leaving Jason in King Creon's garden with Glauce dying in his
arms. He lifted her up and laid her upon a bed, but even as her friends
came around her the daughter of King Creon died.

And Jason? For long he stayed in Corinth, a famous man indeed, but one
sorrowful and alone. But again there grew in him the desire to rule and
to have possessions. He called around him again the men whose home was
in Iolcus--those who had followed him as bright-eyed youths when he
first proclaimed his purpose of winning the Fleece of Gold. He called
them around him, and he led them on board the Argo. Once more they
lifted sails, and once more they took the Argo into the open sea.

Toward Iolcus they sailed; their passage was fortunate, and in a short
time they brought the Argo safely into the harbor of Pagasae. Oh, happy
were the crowds that came thronging to see the ship that had the famous
Fleece of Gold upon her masthead, and green and sweet smelling were the
garlands that the people brought to wreathe the heads of Jason and his
companions! Jason looked upon the throngs, and he thought that much had
gone from him, but he thought that whatever else had gone something
remained to him--to be a king and a great ruler over a people.

And so Jason came back to Iolcus. The Argo he made a blazing pile of in
sacrifice to Poseidon, the god of the sea. The Golden Fleece he hung in
the temple of the gods. Then he took up the rule of the kingdom that
Cretheus had founded, and he became the greatest of the kings of Greece.

And to Iolcus there came, year after year, young men who would look
upon the gleaming thing that was hung there in the temple of the gods.
And as they looked upon it, young man after young man, the thought
would come to each that he would make himself strong enough and heroic
enough to win for his country something as precious as Jason's GOLDEN
FLEECE. And for all their lives they kept in mind the words that Jason
had inscribed upon a pillar that was placed beside the Fleece of
Gold--the words that Triton spoke to the Argonauts when they were fain
to win their way out of the inland sea:--

THAT IS THE OUTLET TO THE SEA, WHERE THE DEEP WATER LIES UNMOVED AND
DARK; ON EACH SIDE ROLL WHITE BREAKERS WITH SHINING CRESTS; AND THE WAY
BETWEEN FOR YOUR PASSAGE OUT IS NARROW. BUT GO IN JOY, AND AS FOR LABOR
LET THERE BE NO GRIEVING THAT LIMBS IN YOUTHFUL VIGOR SHOULD STILL TOIL.