Orpheus finished his song, and the men cheered and banged their fists on the tables so loudly that it seemed like they’d bring the roof down in pieces. As for me, I kept my mouth shut and my arms folded. Orpheus noticed my frosty look when he sat back down. “You didn’t like it,” he murmured.
“They deserved better,” I replied stiffly. “They were brave fighters.”
“I thought I made that clear. Just look at Zetes over there, grinning ear to ear in spite of a nasty arrow wound that probably still burns like Hephaestus’s own forge-fires. It might leave him half lame for life, but he won’t mind, because in my song, he owns the sky.”
“You didn’t see the way he fought today,” I shot back. “He’s not worthy to own a mud puddle. They fought well, those women. They were as skilled and courageous as any man, so you turned them into monsters!”
Orpheus was silent for a little while. Then he took a sip of wine and said, “They attacked without warning, they destroyed good ships for the sake of destruction, they violated the sanctity of a sacrifice to the gods, and they would have cut down a blind old man, king or not, if we hadn’t come ashore when we did. I won’t argue with you about their valor or their mastery of weapons and horses, but see them for what they are, lad. You say I’ve made them monsters, yet you’d make them gods. They’re women, human women, as praiseworthy and as flawed as any fighting men I’ve ever known, but plain truth makes a poor song.”
5
THE CLASHING ROCKS
We sailed the next morning, after tending to the dead. Lord Phineas was a pious man who saw no reason to carry a grudge against fallen enemies. He gave full funeral honors to the northern women who’d died in the fighting. We should have stayed at least one more day to pay fitting tribute to our lost comrades at the funeral games, but Jason was itching to raise sail and be gone. As I hung back in Iolaus’s shadow, watching Herakles fulfill the rite of setting the torch to the pyre, I heard our leader telling the king he’d made a vow to Hera never to see more than one sunset from any harbor until we reached Colchis. Well, that’s news to me, I thought. Maybe liars do wear only one sandal after all.
Lord Phineas looked as doubtful of Jason as I felt, but all he said was “And will your vow permit you to accept a few gifts from a grateful king?” Of course it did.
One of the “gifts” came in the form of a captive, a young girl with black braids and dark blue eyes who returned every man’s glance with a hate-filled stare hot enough to peel skin from flesh. She wore the ragged remnants of a dress too big for her. Her hands were bound and there was a rope collar and leash around her neck. One of the Thracian guards put the tether’s end into the king’s hands.
One girl given over to a ship of so many men? I was appalled by Lord Phineas’s cruelty. Even if the king meant her to be Jason’s possession alone, what guarantee was there that our captain wouldn’t tire of her, or just toss her to the crew as a reward someday?
“You are too generous, Lord Phineas,” Jason said, his voice flat. “I couldn’t possibly accept this—” He waved one hand at the girl. “Not after everything else you’ve already given us.”
The king cackled. “Aren’t you the tactful one? Don’t be afraid, young man, I’m not asking you to take this little viper into your bed. By Poseidon, I swear that I never did. I wouldn’t have survived the night! If she was a virgin when I got her, she’s a virgin still, and you’d be wise to see that she stays that way. She’s the daughter of one of those northern tribes, kin to the raiders your men fought yesterday. One of my soldiers made the mistake of capturing her alive about a year ago. Her people command both sides of the narrow passage you must take to reach the Unfriendly Sea. Hereabouts we call that place the Clashing Rocks, because of how few ships escape without being crushed one way or another. Those savages cling to the cliffs like gulls and watch for prey on the waters below. If you’ve got a rich cargo, they’ll squeeze you for more than half of your trade goods. And if you don’t have a bribe big enough to please them, they attack with spears, arrows, even boulders rolled down from above. I’ve just given you the best bribe of all.” He turned his sightless eyes vaguely in the girl’s direction and gave her leash a playful twirl. “Haven’t I, my pretty dove?”
We sailed away with the pyre still blazing and our ship laden with gifts from the blind king, including his “dove.” Orpheus knew a little of the girl’s barbaric language. He assured her that no man would lay a hand on her, but her actions made it obvious that she didn’t believe him. The Thracian singer made the mistake of removing her leash, as a kindness and a gesture of good faith. She responded by dashing for the ship’s rail whenever he turned his back. I would have done the same, in her position. Orpheus literally had his hands full, holding on to her while she struggled to break away from him and plunge into the water, time after time. How the other Argonauts laughed!
Jason was exasperated. He needed Orpheus to keep the rowers working together and he was short by three men since the battle. He couldn’t spare anyone else from the crew to keep the girl from killing herself. When he ordered Herakles to grab her and tie her to the mast, our “dove” showed us that she spoke our language well enough to spew blistering curses and threats.
“Listen to that!” Herakles exclaimed with an exaggerated shudder. “She’s a witch’s daughter, sure enough. She’ll put a spell on me if I offend her.”
“Stop that nonsense and control the brat,” Jason snapped.
“Alas, beloved prince, I can’t.” Herakles sighed and hung his head with such a pathetic air that Milo, Hylas, and I stuffed our knuckles into our mouths to stifle snickers. “I made a vow to Hera not to touch a woman until we come to Colchis.”