Jason stands one-sandaled before the king who killed his father.
The usurping Pelias sits on the throne overlooking the megaron. The skin on his face sags, painting hollows beneath burning eyes. He blanches when he sees Jason, as though the ghost of the murdered Aeson has come up from Hades to confront him.
But oddly, Pelias is not looking at Jason’s face when he makes this expression. Instead, he is looking at Jason’s feet.
It isn’t Jason’s fault. The missing sandal, that is. It was lost when Jason carried an old woman across the river on his way here. He couldn’t justleaveher there on the shore, but then he slipped in the water and the sandal unhooked itself, spiraling into the current. There was no retrieving it, so he continued on.
Jason is keenly aware of the river smell on his clothes and the cold floor against his bare foot. He knows that he looks a bit silly. But when he begins to speak, the watching nobles and even the king are so charmed that they forget his awkward appearance.
Jason claims his birthright with eloquence and assurance. He is the exiled prince returned to his kingdom, the rightful ruler claiming his inheritance. The assembly in the megaron murmurs and nods—young Jason, handsome and bright, makes a much more appealing ruler than withered Pelias.
Jason knows how to weave his words into a glittering cloak andsettle them upon his shoulders, taking on the mantle of a king’s authority. After his father’s death, Jason was sent to foster on Mount Pelion with Chiron himself, the son of ancient Kronos and the instructor of heroes. It was from Chiron that he learned the skills of speechmaking and rhetoric.
Strategy is just as vital as spears, and speeches even more so,Chiron told him once.The art of persuasion is a dangerous one, but you may be suited for no other. I would make you a bloodless hero who reaches heights untold.
By the time Jason finishes speaking, Pelias has recovered from his initial shock. His eyes move over Jason’s form, assessing, calculating. Jason doesn’t carry a weapon; he won’t be able to defend himself if Pelias orders one of the guards nearby to run him through with a spear. Jason finally allows the terror he’s kept at bay to wash over him. The idea that he will die here, half barefoot, is almost too much to bear.
“Very well, Jason,” Pelias says. “I will give you the throne of Iolcus...”
A stunned silence.
“...if you bring me the Golden Fleece of King Aeetes of Colchis,” King Aeetes finishes with a twisted smile.
Ah. There it is. Colchis is the land of witches and dragons, located beyond the edges of the known world. Its king, Aeetes, is said to be neither human nor animal, and renowned for his cruelty. The journey will be long, every part filled with danger. It is a fool’s errand at best, a suicide quest at worst.
“To show that you are worthy of the throne, of course,” Pelias adds, smug as a cat with cream, knowing it will be a show of the utmost cowardice for Jason to refuse.
The crowd in the megaron stares at Jason, waiting to see what he will do. A beast of many eyes, each burning like a brand intoJason’s flesh. They will not forget this day and will never accept Jason as a legitimate king without the fulfillment of this challenge.
Jason has no choice but to agree to this absurd quest, and thereby ensure his own doom.
That night, safe behind a locked door at an inn, Jason stares at the ceiling.
His mind spins around and around. He needs the Golden Fleece to get the throne, but he has no idea how to get the Fleece. He doesn’t even have a ship to cross the treacherous seas to Colchis. Yet he must do this for the sake of his father, Aeson, murdered by Pelias so long ago. And for his mother, Alcimede, who lives in a shepherd’s hut at the bottom of Mount Pelion. Jason remembers what she said before sending him off to his apprenticeship with Chiron so many years ago.
In the memory, his mother kneels so that they are eye to eye.Jason, my son,she begins.Three times have I givenyoulife. The first was when I birthed you in blood and agony. The second was when I hid you from assassins sent by the man who killed yourfather, andstood with my women around your bed wailing so that the murderer would think you were already dead. The third time was when I fled from the palace and brought you here to safety. Three times I have givenyoulife, and here is what you must do with that life: Avenge your father and take backIolcus!
Jason recalls a cold foreboding. He was only seven years old at the time, small and skinny, with less interest in battles and more in the poems sung about them. How was he supposed to take on a king and seize a kingdom, even if it rightfully belonged to him?
You will be a hero,his mother says in the memory.And I will bethe mother of a hero, with shrines and devotees who bring offerings to her, like Danaë, the mother of Perseus.
She looks dreamy for a moment, then snaps back to attention. As if sensing Jason’s hesitation, Alcimede grabs his chin, holding it firmly and forcing him to look at her.You will avenge your father, killed at the hands of Pelias, and gain fame as a hero. You will do your duty, and if you forget, then I will make sure that you remember.
Young Jason nods obediently. He does not forget his duty during his long apprenticeship with Chiron, even when he proves useless with sword and spear and instead must take training in rhetoric, so unbecoming of a man. But throughout the ten years Jason spends with Chiron, a question nibbles at the back of his mind like an insistent mouse:
If his mother wants to avenge his father and take back Iolcus so badly, why doesn’t she do it herself?
There is no use asking such things. Jason rolls over in his bed at the inn, squeezing his eyes shut. To soothe himself, he summons up the only memory he can recall of his father.
It is a clear evening many years ago, before the exile, before his training with Chiron. Jason’s father is sitting in the garden as the day winds to a close and shepherds come down from their high pastures. Jason runs as fast as his small legs can take him, and a smile comes over his father’s face when he sees the boy. Aeson lifts Jason up, whirling him around and around until the sky becomes like the earth, and they are both laughing, laughing, laughing.
Then Pelias kills Aeson, making exiles of both Jason and his mother.
If Jason had been born another man’s son, perhaps he could have become a rhetorician or a sophist, taking students for pay. Or the keeper of a ford, ferrying people to a distant shore where he himself cannot go. But as it is, he is his father’s only heir and he must take back his father’s throne.
Jason must find a way to go to Colchis and get the Fleece, even if it kills him.
In the morning, Jason wakes to a knock on the door.
