Chapter 17
Jason
It will be different this time, Jason assures himself as he sets off for the Colchian city of Aea the morning after their arrival. There will be no more unhappy
accidents with local kings or any deaths among his men. The Argonauts have instructions to stay put for now, though Zetes
and Calais are monitoring the situation from the air. Jason does not want to risk any more violence.
It will be different this time because Jason has the four sons of Phrixus in tow. King Aeetes’s grandsons, healthy and hale,
their appearance a gift from the goddess. Surely the king will be so overjoyed at their return that he’ll offer Jason whatever
he desires.
The path to the city of Aea unspools before them. Jason tilts his head back to enjoy the cool whisper of a Colchian breeze,
so much more refreshing than the hot climate of Greece, and for the first time on this journey he feels almost hopeful.
Until he sees the bodies.
At first, Jason assumes the wooden platform is a lookout post. Then he sees the decaying human corpse lying upon it. And then
another and another. His eyes bounce from tree to tree along the path, each adorned with these gruesome altars to rotted death.
He gives a little cry of shock, and the sons of Phrixus stop to look at him.
“This is just what we do for the dead here in Qulha,” Argus says when he ascertains the source of Jason’s horror, pronouncing the name of this land in its own people’s tongue, so different from the Greek.
“We bury the bodies of the men like this, so the birds eat them and bring their souls back up to the sky, Tengri. It is called ‘sky burial,’ and we borrowed it from the steppe people. We used to bury our dead in the Egyptian way with beautiful tombs, but Grandfather changed all that. Now, women go into the earth so that they might nurture the soil, and men go into the sky. And criminals go into the sea, but we don’t speak of that. ”
“I . . . see,” Jason says, though he doesn’t. The edge of the world is a strange, barbarian place.
He wonders what exactly he is walking into.
They soon arrive at the palace, a magnificent building held up by great pillars as wide around as trees. A commotion ensues
when the palace guards recognize the sons of Phrixus. A messenger is dispatched, and soon the atrium of the palace is teeming
with people as the royal family welcomes back their own.
A matronly woman, probably the boys’ mother, runs to embrace her sons. She weeps in sheer delight, as if her heart has come
back to her. Another woman joins her, strands of white woven through her dark hair. The boys’ grandmother, perhaps? At the
edge of the gathering loiters a young man with a doughy face, and running across the hall is a young woman only a little older
than Jason. She is wearing a long purple dress with fine embroidery along the neck and sleeves. She is very pretty, and Jason
finds his gaze lingering upon her.
A whirling cloak announces the arrival of the king, his hooked nose and pale gold eyes giving him a predatory air. It is impossible
not to recognize Aeetes; the chill that descends at his arrival is unmistakable. Aeetes is the only one who does not express
joy at the reunion. Perhaps he is not capable of such feelings.
“I see that you have my grandsons, stranger,” Aeetes says in lightly accented Greek.
Jason’s palms sweat. This is the moment he’s been waiting for, the culmination of his quest. His eyes sweep over Aeetes’s form; the king is not wearing the Golden Fleece on his person, but Jason can sense its proximity.
The throne of Iolcus is so close that he can almost feel its carved arms under his fingers.
“I do, my king,” Jason responds with a respectful bow. “They have been six months at sea, and I have brought them safely home.
I am Jason, prince of Iolcus, and—”
Aeetes cuts him off. “What do you want? I assume you expect some sort of reward. So tell me what it is.”
Stunned, but concealing it gamely, Jason nods. “I expect nothing but the satisfaction of reuniting kin. But if you wish to
show your gratitude, I would be honored to receive the Golden Fleece.”
As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Jason knows he has made a mistake. Previously he assumed that the Golden Fleece
was only one among the king’s many treasures—and, judging from the fact that Aeetes isn’t wearing it, not a favorite one.
Jason sees now how wrong he was.
“You dare,” Aeetes hisses, seeming to swell in his rage, “to demand the Golden Fleece?! How do I know that you did not kidnap
my grandsons yourself with expectations of ransom? Perhaps you are pirates, come to take what is mine.”
“Jason isn’t a pirate, Grandfather, he saved us.” It is Argus, standing next to his mother. “Jason found us and saved all
our lives.”
Aeetes ignores the boy. “You want the Fleece, Jason? You will have it—if you stand trial with my bulls.” A laugh like a bitter
bark. “When you are finished, I will sow the earth with your bones like the broken teeth of dragons.”
The members of the royal family lower their eyes. The only exception is the young woman in the purple dress, who is glaring
at the king with unbridled hatred.
“We will conduct the trial in the morning,” Aeetes says. “I want the benefit of full daylight to watch you suffer.” He smiles, the grin slashing across his face like a wound.
Suddenly, Jason is angry. He has not come this far only to die and give Pelias what he wanted after all. He looks at Aeetes
and sees only the greedy, usurping king who killed his father.
“Not only will I face your bulls,” Jason shouts as the guards seize him, “but I will triumph over them, because the world
is finished with cruel old men like you.”
One of the guards jerks Jason’s arm behind his back and bundles him out of the atrium none too gently. The last thing Jason
sees is the young woman in the purple dress, hands clasped together, peering after him.