Jason and the Gorgon's Blood

CHAPTER 13

THE ANGER OF HERA

RAINDROPS FROM HIS WET hair and sweat trickled down Jason’s face, dampening his parched lips. He could not tell if the heart he heard beating was his own or Acastus’.

A yelp from behind made him start. His fingers almost slipped from the bowstring. A tremor passed down Acastus’ arm, and the sword point tickled Jason’s chin.

“Oh, it’s only you, Jason!” gasped Lynceus’ voice. “And you, Acastus. Thank the gods! I thought it might be harpies—or something even worse. Hoi, what’s going on?” Slowly Jason let the point of his arrow drop and eased off the pressure on the bowstring. As he did so, Acastus lowered his sword.

“For a moment we thought the same thing,” Acastus said. “Harpies or something worse. But we’re just friends here.” He smiled, but there was little warmth in it.

“Well, friends,” Lynceus said, “move aside and make some room for me.” He squeezed past them into the shelter of the cave. “Not much room in here, is there?” he observed. “Hardly bigger than a hen coop.”

“Better than a harpy’s nest,” Acastus said.

Jason gave a grunt of agreement, then addressed the two boys. “Give me your water skins. There’s no point in wasting this rain.”

While the other two dried off in the cave, Jason went out into the downpour and held out the skins until the rain had topped them up. He was still tense from his confrontation with Acastus, still wary that a harpy might find him again and attack.

But the longer he stood out in the rain unharmed, the more time he had to think. He knew Acastus didn’t like him, but surely he didn’t want to harm him. Or was it that Acastus was afraid of him?

He took the water skins back inside and passed them to the others.

Lynceus lofted his water skin in salute and took a grateful swallow. “Well, we may starve in this coop, but at least we won’t die of thirst.” He looked out into the rain and frowned. “I hope Idas is all right. He’d never admit it, but he needs me to look after him. I should go out there ….”

“I’m certain he’s fine,” said Jason, wishing that he were really sure. “We don’t dare go back.”

“I understand,” Lynceus said, but the hand holding the water skin shook, and his eyes were shining with unshed tears.

Acastus had not spoken. He was staring gloomily at the floor.

“What are you brooding about?” Jason asked.

“My first battle,” Acastus replied sourly, “and all we did was run away. We didn’t even kill one of those monsters.”

“I’m not sure they can be killed,” Lynceus said with a shudder.

“You fought bravely,” Jason told the prince, “as bravely as any of us. There was no victory to be won today, only survival.”

“And what do you know about bravery, Goat Boy?” Acastus burst out. “Nobody expects you to be a warrior or a hero. You can tend your goats and pick your berries and nobody thinks any the worse of you for it. You should be glad of that and stay where you belong.”

If he had not known better, Jason could have sworn that for an instant the prince had sounded jealous.

“Jason’s shown more courage and wits than any of us,” said Lynceus. “Without him we would never have made it this far.”

“You and I have made it, but what about Ademetus and Idas? Our guide has not served them so well.”

“We can still hope that they are alive and well and sheltered as we are,” Jason said.

“Is hope all you have to offer, Goat Boy?” Acastus sneered and turned his back to them.

Lynceus offered Jason a weak smile and moved away from them, mumbling something about sleep. Then he lay down and tucked his head under his arm, choking back a sob.

“We should all get some sleep,” said Jason. “Tomorrow we have to find the others and climb down off this mountain.”

No one bothered to answer him.

They made themselves as comfortable as they could in their cramped quarters. Acastus backed up to Lynceus, as if being anywhere near Jason would prove catching, like a disease.

Jason folded his arms under his head and wriggled about until there weren’t too many bumps poking into his ribs. He was so exhausted that sleep came quickly in spite of everything.

He had no idea what hour of the night it was when he began to stir. He only knew that he was aware of an unknown presence in the cave with them.

Keep still and play dead, he thought. Be ready to grab the advantage of surprise.

Without shifting his position he slowly opened his eyes. All he could see was the cave wall in front of him. Inch by inch he gradually turned his head toward the entrance.

What he saw made him jump up and step back.

Standing there, lit by some unknown light, was a beautiful, majestic woman. She seemed too tall to be standing upright in this tiny place, yet she did not crouch. She had a high, pale brow, above which a jeweled diadem crowned her black ringlets. Her eyes were large and dark as the night sky. Draped over her shoulders was a cloak made of peacock feathers that flashed and gleamed like a thousand multicolored eyes.

For all her beauty, she was as frightening as the harpies—yet there was something familiar about her.

“Jason, son of Aeson.” Her voice filled the cave like a trumpet blast.

Jason was astonished at the power in her voice, and even more astonished that the others didn’t waken. He nodded dumbly.

“Do you know who I am?” she demanded.

“I think I should,” Jason replied hesitantly.

“Then think harder.” Her voice, though cold, had a hint of humor.

He closed his eyes and thought hard. “I think … I saw a statue of you last night in a dream.”

“A dream I sent you,” she intoned. “Thus do we prepare mortals for our coming.”

His eyes sprang open. “You’re one of the gods of Olympus.”

The goddess’s eyes flared like pools of oil catching fire. She said angrily, “Not one of the gods, mortal. I am Hera, bride of all-powerful Zeus, queen of all the gods.”

Startled by her sudden anger, Jason pushed backward till he was up against the stone wall. But it was farther away than he had thought. Then he realized that the walls had expanded around Hera, forming a huge vaulted cavern, the sides of which reflected her gleaming peacock cloak.

Chiron had warned him that the gods demanded awe and respect and despised cowardice. He was already awed to the point of terror. He would try respect as well, and maybe that would disguise his fear. Drawing himself up, Jason made a respectful bow.

“I’m honored, mighty queen,” he said. “But why should you want to visit me? Here in this cave? I am no one of importance.”

“You are important to me, Jason,” Hera said. As she spoke he could see himself, small and fragile, reflected in the polished blackness of her eyes. “Did you think that storm”—and she flung her left arm wide to encompass all that was outside the cave entrance—“came from nowhere? It was I who rescued you from the harpies.”

“I d-didn’t know.” Jason was shocked to find himself stammering. “But if it was you, I thank you, mighty one.”

“You have a great destiny ahead of you,” Hera continued. “That is why I have watched over you. But to claim what is yours by birth, you must first kill the prince—Acastus!”

The words echoed about the cave like a crash of thunder. Jason’s ears rang with the sound.

He bowed his head and then looked up again. “I’ve no reason to kill Acastus,” he said quietly. “He’s done nothing to me.” Though he could not forget the look in Acastus’ face and the sword that did not shake in his hand.

“Aeson’s son, it is your fate to claim the throne of Iolcus, the throne Acastus believes is his by right.” Hera’s face was at once beautiful and terrible.

“Why does my fate matter so much to you, O great queen?”

“Not your fate, Jason. What matters to me is the fate of Pelias, Acastus’ father. All that I can do to bring about his downfall I will. Do you recall the dream I sent you last night?”

Jason nodded. “The woman in the temple, and the man who killed her,” he whispered.

“That dream was a true one. That man was Pelias.” Hera’s lips curled in contempt. “The woman was Sidero, who had cruelly mistreated Pelias’ mother. She fled to my alter and sought sanctuary there, but Pelias slew her anyway. I would have struck him down there and then for such a dishonor, but Poseidon, the sea god, stayed my hand. Pelias was under his protection.”

“Ah.” Jason shook his head.

“We gods must not war among ourselves. My husband, Zeus, brother of Poseidon, has decreed it. And so I need a human instrument to carry out my revenge.” She loomed over Jason, seeming to grow even larger.

“Me?” Jason’s voice squeaked, and he pressed back hard against the rocks.

“I have watched you these many years, Jason. I have seen Chiron train you in the arts of combat and hunting. You are the weapon I have been waiting for to visit my vengeance on Pelias and his house. In a few more years you will go to Iolcus, kill Pelias, and take the throne that is yours by right.”

Jason was horrified at the thought. The throne might be his by right, but would right be served by murder? He knew what Chiron would say. “No, there must be a way to become the king without killing.”

Hera’s laughter was brittle and mocking. “How little you understand your own mortal world.”

“Perhaps I could perform some feat of daring instead,” Jason said, “something that will win me the respect of the people of Iolcus. If they choose me as king, Pelias will be forced to stand aside and then—”

“Only a fool puts his trust in the mob,” said Hera. “You can injure Pelias now by killing his heir. That way he is but half a king. Easier to dispose of later.”

Jason swallowed and tried once again to meet Hera’s gaze. “Acastus may make fun of me, goddess. He may challenge me and call me names. But that’s not reason enough to kill him.”

“I command it. Is that not reason enough?” Her voice was cold.

“I’m no murderer, great one.” He held up his hands to her, pleading.

“I saw him draw his sword on you. I saw how strong his arm is. He will not always be stopped by others. Kill him now, while you have the chance.” Hera’s voice was pitiless. “Pitch his body down the mountainside. Lynceus will not awake and see it, I promise you. I can even make him forget Acastus was ever here in the cave. Everyone will assume the harpies caught up with him.” She smiled.

Jason turned his head away, unable to face Hera’s terrible gaze. “No. Never.”

Hera’s whole body was now ablaze with a crimson light. It seemed as if the very walls of the cave were catching fire.

“If you do not kill him now, he will surely try to kill you.”

“I can’t do it.”

“Spurn my advice and you may find you spurn my favor,” she cried. “No one lasts long, young mortal, without the gods’ protection!”

Jason fell to his knees. “I honor you, goddess, but I can’t kill a companion in cold blood.” Now he dared to glance up at her.

“I will remember that,” she said. In the fiery light her face was a mixture of anger and something else. He hoped it was understanding.

There was a sound like a thunderclap, and the goddess was gone.