I accepted the gift gratefully, then said, “I hope I can hide this well enough, in case Medea decides to prowl my room again.”
Castor grinned. “She’ll be too busy making herself pretty for the feast.”
“What feast?” I asked.
“Word has it that Lord Aetes wants to give us our gold-laden fleeces tonight.”
When the sun was down and the moon climbed the sky, the king of Colchis offered us a banquet more spectacular than any I’d ever seen. The room was lit with oil lamps as numerous as the stars in the sky, and there were also torches held by patient slaves, flooding every crevice and corner of the place with flickering light. I smelled incense, and delighted in the songs Orpheus gave us so freely. He performed accompanied by the music of flute, lyre, hand drum, and sistrum, all ably played by young girls crowned with flowers.
The flowers were everywhere. Their fragrance mingled with the scent of burning incense and the aroma of roasted meat. Their bright colors glowed like embers in the firelight. Garlands spiraled their way up stone pillars and snaked down the length of the tables. Red, yellow, blue, and white petals drifted across the painted floor. Wherever I looked, I saw scattered wreaths of violets, ivy, and roses.
My brother Polydeuces came by to speak with me at the women’s table. “I’ve told Milo the plan,” he said softly. “He knows that he’s supposed to slip out of the palace before the gates shut at midnight and meet you on board the Phoenician ship. I still don’t like the idea of your making your way through Aea in the dark, alone.”
“I’ll be fine. But I’m going to miss you and Castor terribly.”
“And we’ll miss you. At least we’ll sail off with a memory of how happy you look tonight.”
“I am happy. You-know-who isn’t here.” I rolled my eyes in the direction of Medea’s empty chair. “I hear she’s got a headache. It must be a big one, to keep her away from seeing Lord Aetes honor her precious hero.”
“Orpheus tells me she approached him about making a praise-song recounting how Jason won the Golden Fleece. You should have heard the wild ideas she wanted him to include! Fire-breathing oxen with bronze hooves, dragon’s teeth that sprout into hosts of fully armed men, an unsleeping monster guarding the Fleece—”
“As if he needs her help with making imaginary monsters!” I smiled. “The closest thing I saw to a sleeping monster was one old priest, napping near the temple to Ares, where—” I caught my breath. All at once I realized exactly what Jason was planning to do and why he needed Medea so much that he was willing to woo someone so dangerously unpredictable. “The Fleece,” I muttered. “He’s going to steal the real Fleece.”
“What are you talking about?” Polydeuces asked.
I whispered the answer, telling him all about the glorious golden masterwork that hung above the war god’s altar. His eyes filled with dread. “Oh, no. No. He can’t even consider doing something like that. It’s worse than thievery. It’s blasphemy, desecration of Ares’ shrine, a violation of the sacred trust between host and guest. The gods will destroy him, if Lord Aetes doesn’t do it first.”
“Can you stop him?”
Polydeuces shook his head. “I’ve taken an oath of my own. On the night before we sailed from Iolkos, Jason made all of us stand before the altar of almighty Zeus and swear to follow him until the Argo either sank into Poseidon’s arms or returned successful. You know the fate of oath breakers.”
The Furies, I thought. I didn’t want to speak their name aloud. Terrifying goddesses who wielded whips made of snakes and scorpions, they punished crimes that lay beyond the reach of mortal justice, and they were merciless.
I clasped my brother’s hand. “If Jason violates Lord Aetes’ trust, he’ll be the oath breaker,” I said. “I pray that when the Furies punish him for it, they’ll spare the innocent.”
“Hey! Why the long faces? Tired of waiting for the food tasters to finish their work?” Argus burst in on our muted conversation in a gust of wine and a storm of falling flower petals. He tore the wreath from his balding head and tossed it at Polydeuces. “Here, put this on while you’re waiting. Or fill your belly with wine. Don’t worry, Grandfather makes sure that the wine’s safe long before he pays any attention to the food. By the gods, how I love that man!” He belched loudly and gave us both a huge, lopsided grin. The other women at the table squealed and tittered at him behind their hands.
“Better take it easy, Argus,” Polydeuces said in a friendly manner. “You drink any more and you’ll miss the rest of the banquet.”
“So what?” Argus shot back, sticking out his chin. “If I miss this one, there’ll be plenty more in my future. I’m finally in a safe harbor, and here I’ll stay. That for the Pythia’s prediction!” He snapped his fingers.
His words filled me with unease. This was the same man who’d resigned himself to death because he was convinced that the Pythia was never wrong. I didn’t know why he’d cast away his faith in Eunike’s infallibility, but why did he have to flaunt his new belief this way? Scorning the Pythia’s gift of prophecy was too close to scorning the powers of the god she served, and that could be dangerous. Apollo, pardon him, I prayed. That’s not Argus talking, but the wine.