Jason was accused of being a pirate during theArgo’s first journey, but now he can become one in truth, taking whatever he wants from whomever he pleases. Maybe he’ll get himself a harem of captive women and spear-wives to breed more sons. Maybe he will make an empire, swallowing cities in blood. Cyzicus was the first king whom Jason killed, but he needn’t be the last.
Never again will anyone call him Jason Amechanos, Jason the Helpless. He is done trying to please the world. Now the world will have to please him.
So great is his excitement that he has forgotten about Medea’s prophecy. In his single-minded focus, Jason does not notice that the beam above his head, blackened with age and rot, has begun to come loose.
Part Four
74
Atalanta
The axe gleamed in the morning light as it fell, splitting the log apart. I gathered up the wood and threw it on the stack. The pile of firewood soared higher than my head, and yet I could not seem to stop; the only solace from my frantic thoughts lay in physical movement, though it taxed my weakened body. My shoulders bunched and released, and the axe-head cracked into the stump again.
I was furious at myself. To think I’d gone all the way to Corinth only to find myself unable to say what I’d come to say, the words dying on my tongue. Shame lay heavy on me; I was not a bear but a mouse, scurrying back into my hiding hole. The mention of Melanion had thrown me off, the memory of my spouse’s death reopened like a wound. In such a state I could not summon the words, and eventually I’d fled to the sanctuary of the forests.
The wind rustled through the trees, and I echoed it with a sigh of frustration. I’d failed and might never get another chance. I would die, and she would never know all that she meant to me.
In the distance, a thin column of smoke rose into the air from the city of Corinth. I paused to watch it, wiping sweat from my brow. Nothing unusual—there were fires in the city all the time—but for some reason the sight made the hair on the back of my neck prickle. I shook off my misgivings and went back to work.
It was not long after sunrise. The light was newly minted, thebirds singing. The beginnings of a clear and sunny day, it seemed. Abruptly, the sound of birdsong was interrupted by the clatter of wheels—not on the dirt path twining up the mountain, I realized with astonishment, but from the sky overhead.
Something large enough to blot out the sun flew over the tree line and landed heavily in the clearing of my little camp. I scarcely possessed the words to describe it. Great sunburst wheels gleaming with gold, and two creatures with long, sinuous necks and sharp-toothed jaws. Dragons! I staggered back in shock. Kastana whickered anxiously, and I took the axe in hand. It had been quite some time since I’d fought a dragon, but I was ready.
Someone moved behind the dragons—the driver of the chariot. The face of the stranger slowly resolved into that of Medea.
For a moment, neither of us moved. A hush fell on the world, and everything was silent with awe.
Against all odds, we’d found each other. She had come back to me at last.
A spasm of emotion came over Medea’s face. She’d held herself stiffly when she dismounted the chariot, her features blank. But catching sight of me, she was like a weary sailor who sees a safe harbor. She dissolved into tears as I ran to her, and when I came closer I saw why.
Mermerus and Pheres, or what was left of them, slung over the front of the golden chariot. I drew back, pierced with grief. Many nights had I stood above my son’s crib fearing that his breathing would stutter and stop, ending his life before he had a chance to live it. Here was my old terror realized.
Did Jason do this? No, the coward would never have the nerve.
What happened?I wanted to ask as I took Medea into my arms, but she was in no state to answer. She smelled of smoke and blood, and clung to me as though I were a raft in a tempestuous sea, burying her face in my shoulder.
One of the dragons leaned back to fix me with a baleful eye, hissing. I glared at him over Medea’s head, refusing to let her go.
She shook with sobs, and tears sprang to my eyes as well. It was as though I’d set down a heavy burden—or, rather, one had been lifted from me.
Our story was not over. I hadn’t doomed it when I slunk away from her house, unable to say what I’d come to say. She was here, she had come. I was not glad she was here, because it entailed her suffering. But I was glad that I had been given the chance to comfort her in her darkest hour, as she’d once comforted me.
The twining paths of life had brought us here to this moment, so that we did not have to face the unimaginable alone.
“Why does it hurt so much?” she gasped, voice muffled against my chest.
I held her tighter. “Love always does.”
Medea
For a long time, I waded through a darkness that never seemed to end. No mother should have to bury her children, but I buried mine under a great oak tree with Atalanta’s help. The proper thing would have been to leave their bodies on a high platform in the Colchian custom, but I could not stand the thought of birds tearing the flesh of my children. Better for them to sleep beneath the earth, dark as a mother’s womb.
Look after each other in the Underworld,I exhorted the boys, rending my clothes. I might have followed them into the realm of the dead if Atalanta had not been there to stop me, plucking the noose from my hands and enfolding me into a fierce embrace.
The sun and moon wheeled through the sky as I lay comatose on my bedroll. Now and then food and water were laid beside me.I was aware of a gentle presence as I wallowed in my sorrow, one that did not cajole or make demands but instead kept company with me, like another traveler walking the same path. A hand smoothed back my hair, tracing gentle circles on my back.
Grief was as thick as fog, and in it were flashes of memories. Mermerus’s first fumbling words as he learned to talk. Pheres playing with a toy in a sunbeam. Jason holding Thessalus’s hands as the child took his first steps.
