Jason and Medeia by John Gardner Page A

the
    panther-cape
    already famous for midnight strikes, unexpected attacks from rooftops, pits of dungeons. I bowed, most
    dignified—
    except, of course, for that one bare foot. He looked not
    exactly
    gratified that I’d made it. He looked, in fact, like a man who’s gotten an arrow in his back. Pelias threw out his
    hands,
    tiny chins trembling, and said, ‘J-J-J -Jason!’ And said no more. He’d fainted. It was three full days before I
    could see him.
    â€œWell, no reason to stretch it out. I sat by his bed, summed up my winnings, and waited to hear what he
    thought it all worth.
    I heard, instead, about the golden fleece. I had the
    m-makings
    of a king, he said. He continually squeezed his hands
    together,
    winking. I thought he’d gone crazy. ‘J-J-J-Jason, b-boy, you’ve got the m-makings of a king.’ He was gray and
    flabby, like a man
    who’s been sitting in a dimly lit room for a full
    half-century.
    His legs and arms were spindles, the rest of him loose,
    like a pudding,
    his large head wide and flat, wrinkled like an embryo’s. In his splendid bedclothes—azure and green and as full
    of light
    as wine falling in a stream in front of a candle flame-he looked like a slightly frightened treetoad, blinking
    its eyes,
    cautiously peeking out from a spray of peacock feathers. You would not have thought him a child of Poseidon
    the Earth-trembler,
    but demigod he was, nonetheless, and dangerous.
    â€œI waited, laboring to figure him out. I dropped the
    idea
    of craziness. He was sly, vulpine. The way he made his eyes glint when he mentioned the fleece, and wrung
    his hands
    and made me bend to his pillow, to let him poke at me, conspirators in a cunning scheme—I knew the old man was sane enough. He was pulling something. Yet this
    was the plan:
    Bring him the golden fleece, and he’d split the kingdom
    with me,
    half and half. I could see at a glance what he wanted,
    all right,
    though I wasn’t quite sure of the reason—not then.
    But half the kingdom!
    I looked down, hiding my interest, adding it up. I saids “You seem to forget the difficulties,’ and watched him
    closely.
    â€˜No d-d-d- diff iculties!’ he said, and splashed out his
    arms,
    then wiped his mouth. “None for a muh-muh-man like
    you!
    â€˜I waited. He grinned like a monkey. Then after a while
    he sighed,
    allowed that it might be a long way, allowed that there
    might
    be ‘snakes’ (he glanced at me) ‘snakes and suh-suh-so
    on.’ He sighed.
    â€˜And if I … refuse your offer?’ He sighed again, looked
    grieved.
    â€œYou’re young, J-Jason. P-popular.’ He looked out the
    window.
    And I understood. ‘You think I’ll reclaim my father’s
    throne
    despite all the horrors of civil war. But if, by
    mischance—’
    â€˜J-Jason!’ he exclaimed. His eyes were wide with shock.
    I laughed.
    He snatched my hand, and, sickly as he looked, his grip
    was fierce.
    He wept. ‘J-Jason, I wish you w-well,’ he said. And
    he did—
    as Zeus wished Kronos well when he had all his bulk
    in chains,
    or as Herakles wished for nothing but peace to the
    slaughtered snake
    or the shredded, mammocked tree when he tore off the
    apples of gold.
    â€˜Suppose you had the suh-certain word of an oracle,’
    he said,
    â€˜that a suh-certain man was going to k-k-k-kill you.
    What would
    you do?’ I nodded. ‘I’d send him to fetch the golden
    fleece,’
    I said. Old Pelias squeezed my hand. ‘Go and f-fetch it.’ And so I agreed. Pelias had known I’d agree, of course. What Pelias couldn’t know was that I’d beat those odds. It meant two things—the perfect ship and the perfect
    crew.
    I could get them. That very day I checked with the
    augurers,
    playing it safe. No signs were ever better; and though I had, like any man of sense, my doubts about how much a squinting, cracked