Jason remembered the counsel of Medea. He raised a boulder that four
men could hardly raise and with arms hardened by the plowing he cast
it. The Colchians shouted to see such a stone cast by the hands of one
man. Right into the middle of the Earth-born Men the stone came. They
leaped upon it like hounds, striking at one another as they came
together. Shield crashed on shield, spear rang upon spear as they
struck at each other. The Earth-born Men, as fast as they arose, went
down before the weapons in the hands of their brethren.
Jason rushed upon them, his sword in his hand. He slew some that had
risen out of the earth only as far as the shoulders; he slew others
whose feet were still in the earth; he slew others who were ready to
spring upon him. Soon all the Earth-born Men were slain, and the
furrows ran with their dark blood as channels run with water in
springtime.
The Argonauts shouted loudly for Jason's victory. King Æetes rose from
his seat that was beside the river and he went back to the city. The
Colchians followed him. Day faded, and Jason's contest was ended.
But it was not the will of Æetes that the strangers should be let
depart peaceably with the Golden Fleece that Jason had won. In the
assembly place, with his son Apsyrtus beside him, and with the furious
Colchians all around him, the king stood: on his breast was the
gleaming corselet that Ares had given him, and on his head was that
golden helmet with its four plumes that made him look as if he were
truly the son of Helios, the Sun. Lightnings flashed from his great
eyes; he spoke fiercely to the Colchians, holding in his hand his
bronze-topped spear.
He would have them attack the strangers and burn the Argo. He would
have the sons of Phrixus slain for bringing them to Aea. There was a
prophecy, he declared, that would have him be watchful of the treachery
of his own offspring: this prophecy was being fulfilled by the children
of Chalciope; he feared, too, that his daughter, Medea, had aided the
strangers. So the king spoke, and the Colchians, hating all strangers,
shouted around him.
Word of what her father had said was brought to Medea. She knew that
she would have to go to the Argonauts and bid them flee hastily from
Aea. They would not go, she knew, without the Golden Fleece; then she,
Medea, would have to show them how to gain the Fleece.
Then she could never again go back to her father's palace, she could
never again sit in this chamber and talk to her handmaidens, and be
with Chalciope, her sister. Forever afterward she would be dependent on
the kindness of strangers. Medea wept when she thought of all this. And
then she cut off a tress of her hair and she left it in her chamber as
a farewell from one who was going afar. Into the chamber where
Chalciope was she whispered farewell.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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