Chapter 67
Jason
Jason bounces back and forth between his home and the palace, avoiding Atalanta at the one and Creon at the other. This balancing
act is made easier when Atalanta abruptly departs, though Medea falls ill shortly afterward and takes to her bed. Jason puts
Eirene in charge of the household, then returns to the palace before he can catch the fever himself.
This, unfortunately, puts him directly in Creon’s path.
“Where have you been, my dear boy?” the king booms, slapping him on the back. “No matter, you’re back now. Well, here goes.
I wish to formally extend a proposal that you marry my daughter, Creusa.”
The breath leaves Jason’s lungs. The king’s proposal is not unexpected but nonetheless leaves him stunned. It’s all he could
ever have wanted. The girl is beautiful and charming, and she brings with her a throne. As Jason well knows, Creusa is the
king’s only daughter and her husband will eventually rule. It’s not the throne of Iolcus, and he won’t hold it until after
Creon’s death, but Jason can still become a king. He will have power and something to pass on to his sons after he dies.
It is as though the scattered pieces of Jason’s life have drawn back together again. Everything that has happened to him—fleeing
the palace as a child, the voyage of the Argo, the monotony of the past two decades—has led at last to this, and all his suffering is finally given meaning.
There is just one problem. “I already have a wife,” Jason says, thinking of Medea, quiet and loyal. They have been stars in
each other’s orbit for the past two decades, a familiar pattern, though a largely silent one.
Creon’s face twists in obvious disapproval. “You have a foreign concubine with a shady past. Not a suitable match for my finest
advisor and future heir. It would be one thing if your wife were the daughter of a well-respected Corinthian family, or even
a girl of the town, but instead she is some barbarian from the ends of the earth.”
“But our sons . . .” Jason says, turning up his palms in a gesture of surrender.
Creon rubs his beard thoughtfully. “Your sons I will adopt as my own. They will be members of the royal family. Though, to
be sure, it is my trueborn grandson through Creusa who will inherit the throne,” he adds.
“As for Medea,” the king continues. “Send her away. Give her back to her family, and give her lots of gold, anything you please.
But she cannot remain here. I don’t trust her.”
Jason doesn’t disagree with this, but he won’t be giving Medea back to her family. That was the entire reason he took her
as a wife in the first place: to prevent her from being dragged home. He remembers the wedding on Phaeacia, the promises he
made to Medea in front of gods and men, and feels almost ill.
Before Jason are two paths. On one is everything he has ever worked for, stability, and safety. On the other is only his duty.
Creon clears his throat expectantly. “Well, what do you say? Truthfully, I thought it would be an easy choice. My daughter
is a beautiful woman, and her dowry comes with a kingdom.”
Jason dithers, sweat beginning to gather under his armpits. Breaking his vows means risking much; his patroness is the goddess of marriage, and it would not do to displease her.
“I must think on it,” he tells Creon, and flees.
Having nowhere else to go, Jason heads to the temple of Hera.
It is a beautiful place, with soaring marble pillars and colorful frescoes. The priestesses incline their heads respectfully
as he passes. Jason is well known here; he was the one to spearhead the building project that replaced the old wooden temple
with this marble magnificence. He did this to show his appreciation to the goddess Hera, who helped him survive the journey
of the Argo, and also to impress Creon with his organizational abilities. Although Jason’s plan earned him the favor of the king, the
goddess has remained stubbornly silent. Hera has not graced him with her presence since that day more than twenty years ago
on the docks of Iolcus, when she gave him the Argo.
“Help me, Hera,” Jason whispers, looking into the great face of the statue that soars up near the ceiling. “Patroness, lift
me above this roil of indecision as I once lifted you over a great river in flood.”
He keeps his voice soft, though it is customary to speak loudly to the gods. Jason does not want one of the worshippers to
catch what he is saying and spread rumors through the city. He has fought so hard for his good standing here, slowly earning
the trust of the king and the people. If he rejects the king’s proposal, he might lose everything he has gained.
Silence, interrupted only by the ordinary sounds of the temple: The voices of worshippers, the music. The air is laced with
the spicy smoke of incense.
Suddenly a gust of wind blows through the temple, fluttering the priestesses’ robes. The small lamps that illuminate the sanctuary are snuffed out, and darkness rolls in. Not frightening but lush, like the darkness of a wedding night.
All around Jason are cries of surprise, but he feels only exultation. Most human beings hesitate to interpret the will of
the gods, but not Jason. His heart is serene; the sign is clear. Hera approves of his choice, quieting all his doubts like
the wind snuffing out the lamps. Once Hera guided Jason to save Medea’s life through marriage, and now she is going to use
another marriage to give Jason a kingdom. Yes, all of this is the will of the goddess.
It’s only a coincidence, really, that the princess Creusa is young and beautiful, and will make a far better wife for him
than Medea.
Jason unfurls his stiff knees and rises to his feet. He and Medea have been like old furniture in each other’s way these past
twenty years; it is better for them to part. Besides, he has never really rested easy around her since the death of Pelias.
Jason makes a gesture of reverence to the statue of Hera. Though he will fight the decision a little longer, this is the moment
when he makes up his mind.