The sunstruck expanse of water is pockmarked by dark rocks as far as Jason can see. Even if theArgomanages to free itself, it will be only a matter of moments before it crashes into more stones.
“Perhaps we can wait until high tide?” Jason suggests.
“Thisishigh tide,” Ancaeus replies, gesturing at the water.
The Argonauts take turns jumping into the shallows and pushing against the hull to no avail. Even Heracles cannot dislodge it, his great feet slipping on the rocks. Neither can the wind brothers, Calais and Zetes.
Jason begins to worry. The men are grumbling, just as they didafter Lemnos. Sharp glances are cast his way, as if he’s to blame for this current debacle. The crew of theArgois like a wild horse that bucks under him, balking at his control. Jason does not want another incident like the one with the Bebrycians, but he isn’t sure he can prevent it.
Or perhaps Jason will find their ire directed toward himself and perish at the hands of his own mutinous crew with the Golden Fleece around his shoulders.
No. The idea of being cut down so close to victory is unbearable. Jason must free the ship.
An idea occurs to him, and he calls out her name. “Medea!”
A head crowned with black curls turns toward him. Jason opens his mouth to ask her to use her witchcraft, then remembers she has lost it. How odd—Medea’s witchcraft is so central to his idea of her that he cannot picture her without it.
A melodic female voice cries out from somewhere in the water. “Medea! So it’s true that she is on this ship. Well, I cannot simply leave you there.”
The wood of theArgocreaks fiercely and begins to move. The crew careens around the deck as the ship rises into the air.
A sparkle of laughter fills the air and flashes of bare arms can be seen in the water. Sea nymphs, Nereids. They are lifting theArgoover the rocks like children balancing a ball on their fingertips, passing it hand over hand. When the ship is beyond the hazardous Planctae, it shudders to a halt and sinks back into the water. Jason sways on his feet.
“Greetings to theArgo!” calls the same mysterious female voice.
Jason joins the rest of the crew at the railing and is astonished at what he sees. Her hair is a dark shining mass that brings to mind underwater forests undulating in the current, and her skin is the color of foam. She takes the shape of a human woman, butJason has the sense that her true form is closer to that of the deep-sea fish sometimes caught in trawling nets, fang-toothed beasts that are mostly stomach and teeth. A squid killer, a dolphin eater.
A goddess.
“My name is Thetis,” the sea nymph calls. “Brine born, silver-footed, daughter of Nereus. Hera has sent me. Tell me, where is the woman Medea?”
Only faith in his divine patroness Hera keeps Jason’s terror in check as Medea steps forward and announces herself.
“Daughter-in-law!” Thetis calls, delighted. “Prophesized bride of my son, Achilles. When Hera asked my help, I was more than happy to—”
“Thetis!”Peleus crashes into the railing of the ship, rocking back a little at the force. His face is a rictus of hate. “Monster! Faithless wife, killer of children!”
As Jason tackles Peleus to prevent his friend from further antagonizing the goddess, his mind runs to the recent past. He recalls meeting Peleus at the cave of Chiron, where he had come with an infant son named Achilles to seek shelter from an unnamed threat. Now, the truth slides into focus. Jason understands what his friend was running from and who Thetis is to Peleus.
His wife.
Thetis draws herself up stiffly. Her nails seem to grow, and her teeth are suddenly longer. “Peleus,” she spits. “If I knew you were here, I would have let the ship crash on the rocks and spill out your life like the yolk of an egg. Though of course I would have scooped up my precious daughter-in-law first. My dear, are you sure you do not want me to take you away from these horrible men?” This last is directed at Medea.
Whites showing around her eyes, Medea shakes her head.
“Suit yourself.” Thetis turns back to Peleus. “Now tell me,you worm of a man, what have you done with my son? Where is Achilles?”
“He is with someone who will protect him from you,” Peleus snarls. By now, he has broken out of the hold that Jason and a few others held him in, and is once more leaning over the rail and glaring at Thetis. “Murderess! I saw you dangle my son over the fire. A moment more and you would have lowered him into the flames.”
Thetis laughs. She is monstrous but beautiful too, drawing the eye like mysterious lights flashing in dark water. “Is that what you think happened?” she says. “You fool. I was not trying to kill Achilles, I was ensuring his eternity. The sacred fire would have burned away his mortality so that only the god remained. Now I will have to watch my child die, alone among the endless goddesses.”
Peleus slackens, the color fading from his face. “You weren’t trying to hurt him?” He looks like a hunting dog who has startled a bird into flight and cannot quite tell where his quarry has gone.
“I would never hurt Achilles. By the River Styx, I swear it,” Thetis says, the binding oath of the gods. “The one thing we have ever agreed on, Peleus, is the love we both hold for Achilles. Whatever you think of me as a wife, do not insult me as a mother. Now, farewell! And go with the blessings of Hera, Medea of Colchis, until we meet again,” she adds.
Thetis begins to slide into the water, but a shout from Peleus makes her pause.
“I would make amends,” Peleus says, reaching out a hand. “Come visit me sometime on the promontory outside of Phthia, and we will talk of what has passed between us.”
