“Uncle, enough.” Iolaus came to my aid, plucking me free of Herakles’ grasp. “Run along, lad.” I heard the note of urgency in his voice as he gave me a shove away from the fire.
But Herakles wasn’t done having his fun. He lunged after me and dragged me back in two strides. “See, the problem is you go too easy on the boy. No discipline. Hylas! Hylas, fetch my sword.” Hylas stayed where he was, but his master didn’t seem to notice or care. He returned all his attention to me. “All right, Glaucus, let’s see what you can do with that little bee-sting blade you carry.”
Gleeful whispers speculated about my chances for survival in a bout against Herakles. Hoarse shouts proposed wagers as to how long I’d last before the Theban hero knocked the sword from my hand and beat me purple with the flat of my own blade. And above all the racket, the words that struck the most fear into my heart came from my brothers.
“‘Glaucus’?” Polydeuces’ wine-fuddled voice sounded loud in my ears. “Jus’ like our ol’ teacher, Castor. Say, that boy…He look familiar t’ you?”
Castor tried to push in front of the crewmen blocking his view of me, but some of them had been sharing Herakles’ wine as well. No one was willing to step aside for Castor, and everyone was more than ready to trade blows with him if he insisted on having his way.
“Stop, I forbid this!” Jason commanded. “Herakles, what have you done to my men, getting them this drunk? They’ll be useless in the morning.”
Herakles planted his fists on his hips in mock indignation. “Do I hear you right, Jason? Are you insulting these fine warriors, saying they can’t hold their wine? What kind of man can’t drink a bellyful by moonset and be ready for battle by sunrise?” The men muttered in tipsy agreement while Jason ground his teeth together and looked ready to bash Herakles’ brains out with the hero’s own club.
Hylas discreetly stepped between Herakles and me. “Master, I can’t find your sword,” he said calmly but quickly. “I need Glaucus to come help me look for it.”
It was a flimsy attempt at getting me to safety before Herakles’ words at Jason’s expense stirred things up any further. It failed. The Theban hero sidestepped his weapons bearer and threw an arm around me in a bear hug. “You might have better luck finding my sword if you actually went to look for it,” he said. “By my father, Zeus, if you get any lazier, Hylas, we’ll have to get you a ship of your own and a quest to go with it!” His rowdy guffaws half deafened me.
“You go too far, Theban,” Jason said. The flickering firelight turned his face into a mask of barely restrained rage. The crew cheered, sensing a real brawl about to happen.
I faded back into the darkness while the crew formed a ring around the two men. No one stopped me. I popped out of the rowdy mob like a pit from a squashed olive and immediately bumped into Milo.
“Your brothers saw you,” he said.
“They saw a boy,” I answered with forced calm. “And they’re drunk. They won’t remember what they saw, come morning. Milo, listen to me. We have to do something, and do it fast. Jason and Herakles must not fight. It’ll be the end of the quest if they do.”
“Then let it end,” Milo said. He seized my arm. I hadn’t realized how strong he’d become.
The cheers from the ring were getting louder. I jerked free of Milo’s grip and raced around the outside of the human barricade, craning my neck for a glimpse of Argus. When I caught sight of the familiar balding, sun-browned head, I plunged deftly back through the mob to his side.
“Stop them, Argus,” I said. “Jason will listen to you.”
“Herakles won’t, so why should I bother?” He was licking his lips in anticipation. “Let Jason take what’s coming to him.”
“Jason didn’t start this.” I spoke rapidly, frantically. “He’s no match for Herakles, and when he falls, he’ll take the Argo with him. A leader who’s beaten by one of his own men can’t go on commanding the rest. What happens to a ship without a captain, Argus, or without enough men to sail her safely?”
My words touched the one thing truly important to him. The Colchian strode into the center of the ring and boldly placed himself between Jason and Herakles. “All right, boys, the fun’s over,” he said jovially. “You gave the men a good show, but you don’t want it to be too good or they’ll be expecting the same every night.” He clapped them both on the back, then turned to Herakles and added, “Now listen to me, you ungrateful lout, I built the ship that’s hauling your fat behind halfway across the world. What d’you mean, handing out free wine and not offering me a cup? Afraid I’ve tasted too many good vintages to stomach the swill they make in Thebes, or are you just stingy?”
“I’ll show you who’s stingy, old man!” Herakles roared. But it was a friendly roar. He grabbed Argus, tossed him over one shoulder, and ran back to his own campfire. Grumbling, some of the Argonauts returned to whatever they’d been doing before they were cheated out of their spectacle. Others took off after the Theban hero, most likely in hopes of getting a little more of his wine for themselves. Jason was left behind. The look of surprise and relief on his face was comical, though I didn’t waste time laughing. I hurried back to Milo.
Hylas was with him. “Well, that was luck,” the handsome weapons bearer said. “Good thing Herakles didn’t have his heart set on fighting Jason. When he wants something, he’s not so easily distracted.”
“That had nothing to do with luck,” Milo responded proudly. “That was Glaucus’s doing. He went to Argus.”
“Starting the fight was his doing, too,” Hylas said. He sounded serious.
“Me? What did I do?” I demanded. “I was minding my own business when Herakles—”